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imagineanime2022 · 1 year

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You Find Comfort In Their Demon Form

Lucifer X Reader Mammon X Reader Leviathan X Reader Satan X Reader Asmodeus X Reader Beelzebub X Reader Belphegor X Reader

Requested: @your-next-daydream

Request: I'm back with another obey me ask! Lol I know you might be getting tired of obey me, so if you want to skip this that's okay.

But if you wanted to I was wondering if you could write a MC that pulls at their demon parts (horns,tail, wings, ect) when they are anxious or stressed? With the demon brothers? Preferably just keep this gender neutral 😅

A/N: I had ideas for this the moment that you sent this in so I hope that you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Lucifer

📚 Lucifer took a little while to realise what you were doing by extension the reason for it. 📚 He’d usually have his demon form active when he could see that something was bothering you, that prompted you to hide behind him but it was only after the situation was dealt with that he realised that you were running your hands through the feathers of his wings. 📚 You might even have to tell him one day when you are in serious need of his wings and he is too busy to come out of his office. 📚 You're probably the only person that he lets that close to his wings, he might even teach you how to properly care for his wings so that he can benefit from your anxious or stressed habit.

Lucifer had already been in demon form when you walked into the office, you moved behind him with practice ease and started to run your hands through on of his wings, he waited to see if you would say anything but you didn’t instead you continued to sort through the feathers laying them properly and removing any loose feathers. “Are you going to tell me what is going on?” He asked as he continued to work through paperwork. “Nothing.” You answered as you continued your work, he folded his wings in to stop your finger working through them as he turned his head to look at you. “Try again.” He ordered. “It’s nothing, it’s just we turned in some assignments today and I’m nervous about this one.” You explained as you reached for his wings as he relaxed them again. “Why are you nervous about this one? Did you spend all of your time caring for my brothers again? Please tell me you didn’t write this one in one night.” He pleaded as he remembered the state that you came to him after that, exhausted and stressed, he had to hide you from his brothers for 24 hours so that you could rest properly. “No, I just worry that it isn’t as good as it could have been.” You shrugged and he sighed before pushing his chair back and inviting you to sit on his lap. “But you tried your best at the time?” Lucifer asked and you nodded, hand still reaching around to his wings. “Of course.” You mumbled. “Then there’s nothing that you need to worry about.” He said “take time to relax here, I’m sure my brothers can fend for themselves for a little while.” “You’ll regret saying that later.” You mumbled already far more relaxed than before. “I’ll never regret making the best decision for you.” He promised, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Mammon

💳 The first time that you touched his horns you nearly gave him a heart attack, any other time that his horns have been touched it’s been used to control him in some way and only ever resulted in pain. 💳 The same went for his wings so when you showed such care when touching them it confused him but was confused him more were the times that you chose to touch them. 💳 Mammon would pride himself on being the one that you came to or called when you needed reassurance or safety. 💳 Mammon doesn’t mean to distract you but he becomes a stuttering mess no matter how many times nestle into his side and thank him for being there.

You had called Mammon after getting home from RAD, you were a little later than he was so had time to get changed but when he walked into your room he saw that you were still laying in your uniform. “Hey what's wrong with ya?” He asked as he walked closer to the bed. You reached out dragging him onto the bed and curled into his side, the surprise itself caused him to change to his demon form, his wrapping around you as you reached up to touch and mess with his horns. “What are ya doin’?” He asked. “Had a bad day.” You mumbled as you buried your face in his shoulder. “What happened?” He asked. “Just some demons with too much time on their hands and nothing to do with it.” You explained. “Wait! What’s that got ta do with me?” He asked. “You always make me feel better.” You explained and he froze at the declaration. “I do?” He asked. “Mm.” You hum “thank you Mammon for being here, for being my first.” “Yeah, yeah, you have to show me who they are tomorrow, give ‘em a piece of ma mind for upsetting ma human.” He explained and you looked at him for a second and then smiled. “Thanks.” You finally say before going quiet, he glanced down to see your eyes closed peacefully and breathes a sigh of relief, he meant what he said he was going to get rid of anything that upset you.

Leviathan

🎮 Levi was pretty anxious himself, you were the only person that he allowed this close to him in any form but it did take a long time before he showed you his demon form consciously. 🎮 You were careful with him but one day you were more anxious then you had been in a long time and went to Levi to hide before either one of you noticed you were running your hands over the scales on his neck relaxing both of you. 🎮 Levi looked forward to the times that you’d come to his room and run your hands over his scales, at some point he redirected your hands to his stomach where more scales were located. 🎮 Well that is until he found out the reason behind it, now it made him worry a little bit whenever you came in and started tracing the scales while laying with your face buried in his neck, while he played whatever game.

Today was the same as every other day that you came into his room seeking comfort, you walked around the sofa and laid half across his body while your other hand loop under his shirt to rest over his scales, you slowly started tracing his scales, he glanced down at you his face a little red as he looked over your face. He waited a little while before he asked about anything, he knew that you wouldn’t be ready to talk for a little while. “What happened?” He asked. “Just some work things.” You answered. “Like what?” He asked, taking in a deep breath as your hand ran over a ticklish spot. “Oh just some annoying customers, I think I recognised them from school, probably just having fun ordering me around, and making me clean up after them.” You explained with a shrug. “Yeah? You know their names?” He asked. “What? No, it doesn’t matter even if I did, I wouldn't tell you.” You mumbled eyes falling closed. “What? Why?” He asked. “Because no one deserves what you call revenge.” You answered with a small smile on your face as your hand fattened out over the patch that you had been tracing. “Am I that bad?” He asked. “You are when you involve Lotan.” You sighed as you looked at him and he shrugged. “They deserve it for messing with my Henry.” He mumbled pressing a kiss to your forehead before swapping you to the other side of the couch where you could rest against the back, his tail wrapped around your waist to keep you close as he continued to play, he knew that Beel was with you today, so he’ll ask him at breakfast in the morning and then make those normies pay.

Satan

🐈 Satan was a little worried at first, he knew that his tail was dangerous but he realised that his tail provided comfort for you so instead of stopping you from touching it he got you a pair of gloves to protect your fingers. 🐈 He realised that you playing with his tail gave him a level of comfort as well, one he didn’t know that he’d enjoy. 🐈 You're the only person that’s allowed that close to his tail, that being said that’s only in the safety of his room. 🐈 He’ll often take this time to read something that he liked to you and take your mind off of whatever was happening.

Satan walked into his room where you were waiting with an arm over your face “are you okay?” He asked as he walked over, you lifted your hands making grabby hands in the direction that his voice had come from. “Where are your gloves?” You just whined and he raised an eyebrow, as he got closer he could see stray tears on your cheeks, he reached for your bag silently and grabbed specially made gloves taking your hands one by one and slipping the gloves on before allowing his tail to fall into your hands, you opened your eyes once you felt the weight in your hands. “What happened?” “Nothing just didn’t do as well as I wanted in one of the papers, I need to rewrite it as well as write the new one and there is an exam.” You explained and he felt the way that your hands tightened around his tail, you didn’t hurt him but he was worried that you might hurt yourself so he stood walking over to his book shelf, he heard you whine. “One minute, I’m coming back.” He promised, he just wanted to give your hand a brief break by pretending to look for a book to read, he chose one that was as far away from school work as he could get, a tale from the demon realm. He walked back over and held up the book “how about we forget about that for a little while? We’ll make a schedule and I’ll help you with the rewrite okay?” “You will?” You asked. “Mmm.” He hummed laying on his back letting his tail fall over your lap as he opened the book and started reading.

Asmodeus

💅 Asmo was probably the one that introduced you to using his demon form as a way to relieve stress. 💅 He told you about the way that his heart shaped birthmarks needed extra lotion because the skin dried out quicker and he couldn’t always reach them right. 💅 Or how his horns after constantly growing and he needs help filing them down and making sure that they didn’t grow weird directions or grow too long. 💅 While you're working he’ll use that time to slyly ask about your day and fish out any information or event that you need to vent about.

Asmo sat on his bed back leant against the headboard with a pillow for support and he manoeuvred you so that you were sitting on his lap, you started your work gently filing down his horns the way that he had shown. “So what did you do today?” He asked gently, rubbing his thumbs over your hips. “Me?” You asked. “Who else would I be talking to darling?” He asked. “Nothin much, just some annoying stuff.” You mumbled as you gently brushed some of the shavings away from the base of his horns. “What annoying stuff?” He asked. “Mammon got into some trouble with a witch, that I had to bail him out of.” You mumbled. “Are you okay?” He asked, you smiled on the concern on his face and nodded. “Promise I’m fine, Solomon helped me out and we managed to get what she wanted.” You answered. “Anything else?” He asked. “Had to stop Satan and Lucifer from killing each other after a misunderstanding.” You answered. “Those two need to learn how to communicate.” Asmo muttered as you shrugged. “They never will.” You mumbled all the while finishing off another perfect filing session. “How’s that look?” Asmo tapped your thighs signalling for you to get up so that he could get a proper look, he looked at you through the mirror and smiled. “Maybe we should start up a business.” He suggested. “You want me to sit on other demons' laps?” You asked with a smirk and he narrowed his eyes before turning back to you. “Would you?” He asked. “Would you let me?” You countered, there was silence for a moment before he dove at you pinning you to the bed. “You're my human.” He whined. “Yeah I’m your human.” You laughed finally in a better mood than when you had walked into the room.

Beelzebub

🍔 Beel realises the connection before you do, he’d usually be holding you in a stressful situation anyway so in the situations where his demon form was needed, he’d always feel your finger in his hair and around the base of his horns. 🍔 Beel would encourage the behaviour no matter what but he’d encourage it even more if it replaced a more dangerous nervous habit. 🍔 He’s always there and would be your personal stress reliever no matter what the situation was, he’d always focus on you first, there were others (Belphie and Mammon) that would get rid of the problem for the both of you. 🍔 Beel had always been good at seeing the way that a situation affected you and no matter where you were or who you were with he’d sit you on his lap and direct your hands to his head to calm yourself down.

Beel could feel you tense next to him as Satan and Lucifer started arguing, he frowned as he looked between the two, before looking at you, you had stopped eating, your hand fiddling with your trousers, he reach over moving you to his lap where he dropped his head to your shoulder, letting you run your hands over his horns “It’s okay I’ll keep you safe.” He promised. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled but he tightened his grip on you. “There is nothing to be sorry for.” He mumbled “they are scary when they start shouting, they used to scare me too.” He stood from the table completely unnoticed by everyone except for his twin and carried you back to his room. “Aren’t you hungry?” You asked as you looked at him settled in bed. “Don’t worry we’ll get a snack later when they all get lost.” He promised as he gently ran his hand up and down your back, you were still straddling his waist so you could reach his horns. “You sound angry.” You mumbled, you seemed to be relaxing. “I’m annoyed.” He answered honestly, “I don’t like that they make you feel unsafe.” “They don’t make me feel unsafe, your brother would never hurt me, I just don’t like them fighting.” You explained as one of your hands came down to the marks that peaked out of his shirt and started tracing them. “You want them to stop fighting?” He asked. “Mmm, we might have a better chance of uniting the 3 realms though.” You shrugged and he chuckled a deep sound that you missed when you didn’t hear it. “Well I’ll be here whenever you need me.” Beel promised.

Belphegor

💤 Here’s the thing, Belphie probably didn’t know what you were doing for the longest time, he was asleep whenever you played with the tuft at the end of his tail or along his horns. 💤 So you can be sure that he’d never know the situation that had caused you stress or anxiety. He’d always be able to sense the feelings though so he knew what you needed. 💤 Sometimes he doesn’t say anything. Instead he’ll pull you close and keep you there until he is sure that you are asleep, then he'll wrap his tail and arms around while intertwining your legs and that’s how you'll wake up. 💤 Belphie would spend hours trying to find out what happened to make you so tense or teary but the only person brave enough to tell him is Beel and when he does it’s game over for whatever hurt you.

This time he felt you climb into the bed behind him, he was hiding in the attic and it seemed so were you, you sat cross legged behind him and he felt you playing with his tail, he waited a moment to see what you were going to do and when he heard you sniffle slightly he turned immediately and pulled you into the a hug his tail wrapping around your waist as he run his hands through your hair, your hand reached down to catch his tail as you continued to play with it, he watched as your face changed from one of sadness, to relaxation and then you were asleep.

He pulled out his DDD, careful not to let the light shine on your face, he opened the chat with the rest of his brothers.

Belphie: Thought you were all supposed to look after them, why have they been crying? Mammon: Cryin’ who’s cryin’? Belphie: Y/N. Asmo: What happened? Belphie: I don’t know, they’re asleep, you should all know if you were doing your job right. Mammon: Woah someone’s protective of the human. Belphie: You better hope that you had nothing to do with it otherwise I’m going to flush that stupid credit card down the toilet. Lucifer: Belphegor please find out the reason that Y/N is upset and then report to me immediately. Belphie: Whatever.

Belphie glanced down at you and gently ran his knuckles over your cheek, he knew that his twin had been unusually quiet during that chat and he’d have to chase it up, then once he’s dealt with the problem the way that he saw fit and then he will report to Lucifer. However when he tried to move one of you hands moved to the base of his horns and the other other gripped the tuft of his tail and he stopped moving immediately, instead he decided to stay with you, you needed him more anyway.

Request Here!!

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ileaveclawmarks · 1 year

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An interview with Leslie Feinberg appearing in the Oct/Nov 1998 issue of On Our Backs.

Please click on image to read or find the transcript below:

Feinberg and hir activist peers have transformed the landscape of current queer politics: they have introduced "trans" (even into the mission statement of the National Organization for Women) as an umbrella term for transgender and transsexual persons. "Transgender" refers to any person whose gender expression appears at odds with his or ber biological sex, including transvestites, drag queens and kings, intersexed persons, "passing" men and women, feminine men, and masculine women. "Transsexual" refers to men and women who challenge the sex they were assigned at birth, whether they choose sex-reassignment surgery or not. Feminism popularized the distinction between "sex" (as biological sex) and "gender" (as the social expression of masculinity, androgyny, and femininity); the trans movement took this distinction to the streets.

Feinberg discusses her struggle with the health care system in hir new book, Trans Liberation: Beyond Pink or Blue. Released in October, Trans Liberation chronicles Feinberg's career as a public speaker and collects the addresses s/he delivered to a variety of groups, from Gay Pride organizers to straight male transvestites. We spoke with Feinberg about why sexual freedom is impossible without freedom of gender expression.

On Our Backs: Trans Liberation was released this fall. Can you tell us about what you're working on now?

Feinberg: I'm deep into a novel titled Drag King Dreams. It's about a working-class, Jewish trans person who has a foot in both the diverse trans communities and also the lesbian, gay, and bi communities. It's a book about figuring out what "home" means and who your people are. I'm also trying to write a fable titled "Tale of Two Hearts." it's really a love song to Minnie Bruce Pratt-my wife, my lover, and my friend. It's just one chorus of the love song I write to Minnie Bruce every day of my life.

On Our Backs: Your relationship with poet Minnie Bruce Pratt, thanks in part to her book S/he, is well known. What is your advice to those of us seeking a long term relationship as loving as yours?

Feinberg: I just know that for me, this is a relationship unlike any other I've ever had. I wasn't looking for a lifetime commitment when I met Minnie Bruce. I°d been dating nonmonogamously for quite a while, nothing serious. Minnie Bruce and I both did a lot of work individually to grow up, get sober and work hard at developing our political consciousness and activism. We were ready for each other. Ready to be loving, to communicate, and to listen.

On Our Backs: Pat Califia once wrote that she wishes there would come a time when we don't pick a sexual partner by his or her gender, but by other criteria, such as whether the person is a top or a bottom. In your ideal world, what would attract people to one another?

Feinberg: It's hard for me to hypothesize. In the world we live in, individuals do organize their preferences around gender expression. But a spectrum of sexuality existed in ancient societies that predated state. sponsored repression of human love. That leads me to think that these preferences might continue to exist in future societies in which no form of sex or gender is outlawed or demeaned. I don't think the problem today is preferences so much as prejudices. For example, I read personal ads in which people say "no druggies or butches need apply." Wow! That's preiudice. If you say in an ad that you're looking for someone feminine or androgynous or some other form of preference. that's very different from saving "no butches." As more and more prejudices are defeated, and in a world freed from divide-and-rule bigotry, people will be freer to explore their preferences about gender and about individuals.

On Our Backs: Do transgendered persons have sexual representation-pornography, erotic fiction, videos made for and by themselves?

Feinberg: Right now, there are many people trying to write erotica that bends gender. And I think it's very important. For many of us, it's very hard, never being able to identify with the sexuality we see everywhere in the dominant culture. [So] it was very important for me to write about sexuality in Stone Butch Blues. In the novel I'm working on now, I've been thinking a lot about how to write about sexuality that's not necessarily masculine or feminine, or gay or straight.

On Our Backs: What do you mean by "sexuality that's not necessarily masculine or feminine"?

Feinberg: I see masculinity and femininity as forms of gender expression. But a person's gender expression doesn't necessarily determine their sexuality. It doesn't determine whether you'll be attracted to someone of a similar gender expression or a dissimilar one. It doesn't mean you'll be sexually aggressive or submissive or both. That's what makes me so angry when I hear people derisively refer to someone as "thinks she's so butch but she rolls over in bed." It's an assumption that masculinity translates into being a top sexually. It limits the range of sexual expression of masculine females. And it's a sexual attack on someone who is, by virtue of their social oppression, already sexually wounded.

On Our Backs: Both sex scenes from Stone Butch Blues were excerpted for collections of lesbian erotica. Did you intend the scenes to be sexually arousing for readers - to be erotica - when you wrote them?

Feinberg: That's such an interesting question. I have to say that when I set out to write the sex scenes, I began to be aware of internalized censorship: "Can I or should I write about this or that?" So I consciously blocked out any thought of readers with this odd mental trick: I told myself that whatever I wrote, I didn't have to publish it. First write it, then decide. By doing that, I discovered that I could write about the kind of sex that i thought was true to the emotional makeup of the characters. If it was erotic for readers, I think it was because I was true to the characters themselves, so the sex was "real," if you know what I mean.

On Our Backs: Can sexuality exist without gender? Or is gender an essential component of sexuality?

Feinberg: Certainly everyone is gendered - quite complexly. And we infuse much of who we are, as gendered people, into our sexuality. But sexuality is so complicated by oppression right now that it's really hard to study it removed from its social soil. Jesse Helms defeated funding for a study that would have backed up much of what Kinsey revealed decades ago: that human sexuality is not two opposite poles- one normal, one not. Sexuality is on a spectrum, and many individuals move along that continuum during their lives. But lesbian, gay, and bisexual love is outlawed in the majority of states in the United States. So how can a truly objective, intensive study of sexuality even be conducted? It's like doing a study on religious beliefs and affiliations during the Nazi regime in Germany. So much of what we will learn about the relationship of gender and desire, as well as unraveling other questions about the matrix of sexuality, will be tied to the victories of our liberation of humanity from oppression altogether.

On Our Backs: In Trans Liberation you wrote about how frustrating it is voting for a two-party system when both parties are backed by big business. Do you vote? Should poor, queer, and trans people even bother voting?

Feinberg: Well, politics is about more than voting. It's also about finding ways to move people to action. In a particular situation, voting on an issue in an election or a candidate could help advance the movement. In general, though, I don't think voting for Republicans or Democrats - both supported by wings of corporate America, as are their parties - advances our struggle. I believe we need to build an independent liberation movement that's not tied down by waiting to see what happens in the next election. Everything our movement has ever won, including progressive legislation, has been won based on the strength of our struggle.

On Our Backs: Lesbians who accept transgender liberation in theory often balk at making alliances with transsexuals. Why is this so?

Feinberg: First and foremost, transsexual men and women helped build the modern lesbian, gay, and bisexual communities and movement. I know of at least one transsexual sister who fought the cops at Stonewall. They haven't always been recognized for their valuable contributions. But I believe strongly that those in the lesbian communities who are opposed to building coalitions with the diverse trans communities are just one current, and very often a minority current. The question is: Which current of any movement will lead? Those who seek to narrow the movement, or those who seek to broaden and strengthen its collective power?

*In this interview, On Our Backs refers to Feinberg with the pronouns "hir" (pronounced "here") and "s/he." We choose to do so because Feinberg has stressed that if society is to accept transgendered people, our language must expand as well. S/he gives as an example Ms., a common term now, but unacceptable before the women's movement.

Source.

#leslie feinberg #stone butch blues #transgender warriors #on our backs #lesbianism

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fozmeadows · 4 months

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As someone who hasn't read the works of radical feminists like Simone de Beauvoir, could you explain what's wrong and what bothers you about biological essentialism? I'm curious about your opinion after reading your post on radfems (and I'd like a perspective that isn't so based on biological gender essentialism, which I honestly have a hard time moving away from because I don't understand other perspectives well). 👀

The problem with biological essentialism is that purports to answer the eternally unanswered question of nature vs nurture in a wholly one-dimensional way - ie, with biological sex as The Single Most Important Aspect Of Personhood, regardless of any other considerations - while simultaneously ignoring the fact that biological sex is not, in fact, a binary proposition. We've learned in recent decades, for instance, that intersex conditions are much more common and wide-ranging than previously thought, not because scientists have arbitrarily changed the definitions of what counts as an intersex condition, but because our understanding of hormones, chromosomes, karyotpying and other physical permutations has expanded sufficiently to merit the shift. So right away, the idea that humanity is composed of Biological Men and Biological Women with absolutely no ambiguities, overlap or middle ground simply isn't true. Inevitably, though, if you mention this, people with a vested interest in biological essentialism become immediately defensive. They'll start saying things like, oh, but that's only a tiny minority of the population, they're outliers, they don't count, as though their argument doesn't derive its claim to authority from a presumed universality. To use a well-worn example, redheads are also a tiny minority of the population, but that doesn't mean we exclude them when talking about the range of natural human hair colours. But the fact is, even if humans lacked chromosomal diversity beyond XX/XY; even if there were no cases of cis men with internal ovaries or cis women with internal testes or people with ambiguous genitalia - and let's be clear: all of these things exist - the fact is, our individual hormones are in flux throughout our lives.

There are standard ranges for estrogen and testosterone in men and women (which, again, vary according to age and some other factors), but two cis men of the same age and background could still have completely different T-counts, for instance - meaning, even the supposed universal gender factor isn't universal at all. More, while our hormones certainly play a major role in our moods and cognition, so do a ton of other genetic and bodily factors that have nothing to do with the sex we're assigned at birth - and on top of that, there's nurture: the cultural contexts in which we're raised, plus our more individual experiences of living in the world. One of the most common, everyday (and yet completely bullshit) permutations of biological essentialism comes when parents or would-be parents talk about their reasons for wanting a son or a daughter. Very often, there's a strong play to stereotypical assumptions about shared interests and personalities: I want a son to play football with me, for instance, or: I want a daughter to be my shopping buddy. But even within the most mainstream channels of cishet culture, it's understood that these hopes are not, in fact, grounded in any sort of biological certainty. The dad who wants a sporty son might be just as likely to end up with a bookworm, while the mother who wants a little princess might find herself with a tomboy. We know this, and our stories know this! For the entirety of human history - for as long as we've been writing about ourselves - we have records of parental disappointment in the failure of this child or that to embody what's expected of them, gender-wise. More than that: if biological essentialism was real - if men were only and ever One Type Of Man, and women were only and ever One Type Of Woman, with recent progressive moments the sole anonymous blip in an otherwise uniform historical standard - then why is there so much disparity and disagreement throughout human history as to what those roles are? The general conception of women espoused in medieval France is thoroughly different to that espoused in pre-colonial Malawi, for instance, and yet we're meant to believe that there's some innate Gender Template guiding all human beings to behave in accordance with a set, immutable biological binary? And that's before you factor in the broad and fascinating history of trans and nonbinary people throughout history - because despite what TERFs and conservative alarmists have to say on the matter, our records of trans people, and of societies in which various trans and nonbinary identities were widely understood (if not always accepted), are ancient. We know about trans priestesses from thousands of years before Christ; the Talmud has terms describing eight different genders, and those are just two examples. All over the world, all throughout history, different cultures have developed radically different concepts of femininity and masculinity, to say nothing of designations outside of, overlapping with or in between those categories - socially, legally, behaviourally, sexually - and yet we're meant to believe that biology is at all times nudging us towards a set, ideal gender template? There's a lot more I could say, but ultimately, the point is this: people are different. While some aspects of our personhood are inevitably influenced by genetics, hormones, chromosomes and other biological factors, we're also creatures of culture and change and interpersonal experience. The idea that men and women are fundamentally different, even diametrically opposed, at a biological level - that the major separator in terms of our personalities and interests isn't culture, upbringing and personal taste, but what's between our legs - is just... so reductive, and so inaccurate.

We can absolutely have common experiences on the basis of a shared gender, but gender is not the only possible axis of commonality between two people, let alone the most salient one at all times, and the idea that we're all born on one side of an immutable biological equation that cannot possibly be transcended makes me feel insane. According to modern biological essentialism, intersex, trans and nonbinary people are either monstrous, mistakes or imaginary; all men are fundamentally predisposed to violence, all women are designed for motherhood, and we're meant to just hew to our designated places - which, conveniently, tend to echo a very specific form of Christian ideology, but which in any case manifestly fail to account for how variedly gender has been presented throughout history. It's nuts.

#foz answers things #gender #feminism #biological essentialism #history #sociology

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dresshistorynerd · 3 months

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Borderline begging you to not erase the gender non conformity of historical women by applying contemporary lenses of gender roles to them. Gender non conforming women existed then and still exist now. Wearing “men’s clothing” does not make me less of a woman and it’s incredibly insulting to see people in 2024 call women “they” and “he” because they wrote extensively about the misogyny they faced on a daily basis and chose to address and protect against by disguising their female form. Clothing does not a gender make—social roles do. Let’s respect historical women by referring to them correctly—not assuming what they would like to be called these days when we have long since dismissed European invert theory.

I'm assuming you are referring to that historical binder post and specifically this part:

Westner was also buried in men's clothing by their own request.

Firstly, I didn't call Ella Westner "he", not sure why you are implying that. I haven't read much about Westner, but I did try to look quickly if we have any record or second hand information of them talking or writing about their gender. I didn't find it, so I don't know what would be the correct way to refer to them. I referred to them with "them" since that is the pronoun in English language when you don't know someone's gender. By all means if you have any evidence to share how they liked to be referred, do share.

This is for all intents and purposes the same ask I got after my Julie d'Aubigny post so I'm going to link my response here (and the answer to the follow up ask) instead of rehashing the same points all over again. But I will rehash couple of main points since it seems they bear repeating. Firstly, I'm not talking about you, you are not Elle Westner and you have just as little access to her mind as I do. I don't have to assume your gender, you said you're a woman, and certainly I believe nothing you do makes you less of a woman. But I can't ask Elle Westner can I? For most historical people, I think it's fair to assume their gender to be the one assigned to them, but if there is evidence that might suggest otherwise, we should not assume. Of course we should neither assume it's not their assigned gender, it's entirely possible it is, but the possibility should not be discarded that their gender is different.

It's a little silly tbh to say I'm erasing gender non-comforming historical women, when literally in the same paragraph I mention how it was quite common for queer *women* to dress in masculine clothing. This is literally what I wrote:

Queer women and trans masc people, who dressed in masculine clothing, (which was pretty common) also sometimes bound their chests, but unsurprisingly that was not exactly celebrated like drag performances were, so there weren't binders made for queer people specifically.

(I admit I didn't mention the "mannish" feminists, who dressed masculinely, but they rarely bound their chests, and like many of them were queer also.)

What I will not do (even if you borderline beg) is to erase trans masc and non-binary people from history. Assuming all historical queer and gnc people were their assigned gender without extensive evidence to the contrary (for some people no amount of evidence is ever enough) effectively erases all trans and non-binary people from history, since the way gender was talked about, understood and allowed to express, was often so different from our current understanding and usually erased from historical evidence. That is in fact imposing our understanding of gender to historical people. Yes some women did cross-dress in order to escape misogyny, but that's certainly not the only reason people cross-dressed. Especially since many of them, those who couldn't or didn't try to pass, faced even more misogyny for cross-dressing, but they did it anyway because they had other reasons to cross-dress. The reason why cross-dressing can be evidence of queer gender identity (though of course as said, there are other possible reasons) especially in 19th century, is because in their culture the understanding of gender was heavily tied to gender expression. Even today, when gender and gender expression are seem much more as separate things, if you see a person who looks like a woman, but is dressed in men's clothing, you shouldn't immediately dismiss the possibility that they might not be a woman. Yes, they might be a woman who for one reason or another likes to dress in masculine clothing, or they might not be.

You say I shouldn't "apply contemporary lenses of gender roles" to historical queer people, but also that I should in this historical context dismiss sexual inversion theory, which was specifically a Victorian lens (shrouded in scientific essentialist terms) to look at queerness. Sexual inversion theory is not biologically true of course, like it was proposed, but really none of our sexuality and gender categories are. Because while there probably is some biological explanations for our feelings of attraction and towards our bodies (which we haven't really found yet), how we built gender and sexuality categories around those feelings is entirely cultural. So while sexual inversion theory is not relevant today, it is still relevant to understand the historical context, since it was an attempt to explain scientifically their cultural construction of gender and sexuality. And of course the flaw with all these cultural categories is that they can not contain and represent the whole breath of human feelings, and will always leave people out in their explanations, which is obviously true with sexual inversion theory (but also for example our identity based model). But the societal understanding of these things also shape how we understand and frame our own feelings.

So briefly, in 19th century queer identities were emerging (not seen as just behavior anymore) and first queer communities were formed. In the texts of Victorian queer writers the understanding of sexuality, expression and gender are all very fluid. Edward Carpenter (a Victorian gay communist) notably wrote about "the intermediate sex" and "transitional men and women" which he understood as a sort of third gender category. Basically his understanding of queerness was conceptually similar to sexual inversion theory, but he came from a non-medicalizing and queer liberation angle (though like his writings were not entirely free of internalized queerphobia but still very revolutionary for his time). He wrote about this third gender category as a sort of spectrum that goes from feminine men interested in men, and masculine women interested in women, to cross-dressing people and people living as opposite gender. Today we might see these ends of the spectrum as more or less gnc gay men and women and trans men and women, which to him were more or less extreme expressions of the same phenomena. This also aligns with broader Victorian understanding of gender and sexuality, as gnc queer people were generally seen as a separate gender category, often, especially in case of queer men and trans fems, called fairies. As said, certainly not all Victorian queer people would have agreed or felt represented by these ideas, but this does give us some understanding how at least some of the queer and gnc people might have understood their gender.

Maybe I will need to make a full post about how I think gender should be handled and studied in history, so I can just link it to when I inevitably get yet another one of these.

#i did end up writing more than i intended #and rehashing most of the same points as in the previous answer :')#queer history #history #victorian era #anon #answers

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fuxuannie · 1 year

Note

HIII I FOLLOWED U RECENTLY AND IM LITERALLY JUST BLOWN AWAY BY UR WORKS I LOVE THEMMN

okay listen listen listen. what are ur thoughts on enemies to lovers w dan heng.

OR OR OR WITH GEPARD (idk how thatll work but the idea is very appealing to me AHUEHDUE)

(also i saw it was ur birthday yesterday!! happy belated birthday 🥳🥳 stay healthy n safe, dont forget to hydrate and eat :D)

- idk can i be 😟 anon (my face 24/7 LMAO)

↳ pairing : (seperate) gepard landau & dan heng x gender neutral reader

↳ synopsis : request ♡

↳ authors note : dan hengs is more or less a joke bc i genuinely couldnt think of much for him im SORRYANSBDNS thank you smmm for the sweet messages they rlly warm my heart

☆☆ ONE BED TROPE ⁉️

When the peace between the Overworld and Underworld was established, you and Gepard both agreed that it didn't mean that suddenly you and him were buddy-buddy now. However, with Seele and Bronya becoming allies, it meant that you and Gepard were more often than not being assigned to work side by side.

And with that arrangment coming along, that's what brought you here. In an abandoned building, sitting on a bed with Gepard kneeling between your legs as he bandaged your bruises. "You know, if anyone sees this the angle looks really-"

"Shut up."

You smirk at his fluster, seeing the slight shade of pink that he tries to hide. In return, he not so nicely pulls on the bandages around you, tightening them in a way that was nearly suffocating. "Ow!-"

You won't deny that Gepard was an insanely pretty man, his soft skin and gentle features complimented his.. annoyingly kind soul for those who needed his assistance. He was loved by many, and you couldn't really blame people. Just cause you both were on opposite sides didn't mean you couldn't acknowledge his determination to protect others.

"Your injuries are fatal. We can move by morning, just rest for now."

You look around the room, mostly to ignore how he takes off his heavy armor to to rest properly. "You know it's.. there's only one relatively comfortable place to sleep in, right? Or in other words.. there's only one bed?"

Gepard nods with a sigh, your eyes finally turning back to him as he tries to lay on the floor and use his arm as a pillow. "Yeah. And you're hurt, so you can have it."

He ignores your pitiful stare, closing his eyes until he hears you clear your throat and opening one of them slightly. "It's.. cold. And there's.. enough room."

"Oh? And won't this look like a suggestive-"

"Shut up!"

You ignore his laughter as he stands up, feeling him ruffle your hair as you look up at him. "Asshole. Just.. sleep, will you?"

"Gladly. If it means I won't have to look at your face anymore."

"You know I'm pretty." "Maybe, but you're infuriating."

"Wait, what?"

☆☆ BITTER EXES WHO HUNTS THE OTHER DOWN

Maybe that description was a little detailed, but wouldn't it be funny if you were DAN HENG's ex and you were so pissed at him you joined the Stellaron Hunters. Blade himself started hating him a little more after hearing you rant about him for the 10th time in a day. (He's more pissed that he made you that way and now has to deal with it.)

So when you caught up to him in Luofu, even if you swore to Blade you wouldn't do anything until his business with Dan Heng was over, you just couldn't resist just having a little bite. Just for your own enjoyment.

"How have you been?" "I've been better, especially since you're holding a knife to my throat and pinning me against a wall."

You scoff at his remark while pushing the blade closer towards his neck, not quite enough to cut but grazing his skin to a point he can feel the cold metal. "Shut up."

"Good to know you're still angry at me."

"Why wouldn't I be? You left me with nothing but a poorly written note that had nothing but 'Goodbye.' on it."

That got a little reaction out of him which was him clearing his throat. "Seems like you haven't forgotten either."

"No it's more.. did you not see the other one I left you?" "There was another??"

You and him exchange awkward glances, you eventually pull the knife away from his neck and take a few steps back.

"If it matters at all, you're still really pretty."

"Seriously, now of all times I-"

You laugh a little, causing the familiar feeling of Dan Heng's heart skipping a beat as he looks off to the side. "..Whatever. Just because we had this.. whatever this was, it doesn't mean you're off the hook. You're still gonna be a dead man, I promise you that much."

Dan Heng watched you leave the shadows, until you were out of sight was when he laughed a little. "It's a little odd I found that stupidly attractive but.." He shrugs to himself, not like anyone will know.

#˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ bailu's candy stash #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng hsr x reader #gepard landau x reader #gepard x reader

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beanzfandoms · 2 months

Text

│Chapter One│

│Human! Alastor x Reader│

Ⓢⓨⓝⓞⓟⓢⓘⓢ: Alastor offers (Y/n) a job, and though they are hesitant, they accept.

Ⓝⓞⓣⓔⓢ: The reader is indicated to be biologically female as they will face certain challenges throughout this story due to the time period. Characters set in this will refer to the reader as she, but for the most part, it will be gender neutral. This is written to be platonic but will remain ambiguous. There may be inaccuracies to the time frame. This series may and will contain things such as sexism, classism, gender dysphoria, bullying, mentions of religion, and gore. Please read at your own risk.

〣Previous Part 〣

═══════════════════════════

"Alastor. Charmed to meet you! I must say, this is an awful lot of stuff you have here. Mind if I ask what you are doing?" The man speaks with glee.

(Y/n) notes a shine in his eyes they couldn't quite decipher, and a feeling of uncertainty washes over them. Very few people have shown interest towards them willingly, as the locals have made sure to blacklist them due to their unorthodox behavior, and (Y/n) mentally barricades themself for where this interaction will lead to. Surely, it won't end well.

"Just working on an assignment," (Y/n) replies, cautiously watching as the man permits himself to sit at the table.

"One for learning then! What does one such as yourself want to be?" Alastor hums, looking over the covered surface with curiosity.

"I'm currently enrolled for journalism. Nothing too grand..."

"I see, I see. Do tell about this fascination you have with the Bayou Killer then? Surely, the college doesn't speak of such things in a mere literacy class," Alastor casually remarks as he takes up one of the cut-out articles that (Y/n) made notes on in his hand, "My, what interesting theories you have! Do you really think this murderer has a vendetta against ill-willed men?"

"That's none of your concern," (Y/n) snaps as they tear their work away from the stranger's hold. The man's smile twitches slightly, his stare intensifying on them for a moment. (Y/n) would've been intimated if it weren't for the immediate regret they felt pull at their heart. Alastor's arms fall into his lap, and the grin he wore before falls as he leans back. Were they truly so standoffish as Joanne claims?

"I apologize..." (Y/n) sighs out, "That was rude of me, and though I cannot excuse my terrible behavior, it's been an off day for me. Please pardon my actions."

"That's quite alright, my dear. I've had a few days in the ditch myself, but my mother always told me that if you want something to happen, act as if you already have it," Alastor reflects with the wiggle of his finger. "Nothing a little music can't help either! Instead of working one's finger to the bone, why don't you come dance with me?"

"That's very kind of you, but you wouldn't want to dance with me."

"Nonsense! If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have asked."

"If you want to go home with a broken toe, then by all means."

"How farcical of you," Alastor laughs, "I'd like to see you try!"

Alastor's temperament returns back to a mirthful one such as before, an ever-growing smile etched on his lips and waggish gleam casting from his eyes. His slim fingers tap against the glass he brought with him from the bar, sipping from the alcoholic beverage periodically as his gaze drifts over to the bustling scene of the dancefloor. (Y/n) watches too, as pretty girls with short furling dresses and babydoll curls gather with their friends to dance with boys who bought them one to many drinks. The laughter that bounces throughout the building suddenly becomes too much for (Y/n), and though Alastor sat just beside them, a staggering loneliness weighs heavy on them.

"Please don't let me keep you," (Y/n) mutters, returning their focus back on the papers laid out in front of them. Not like they had the motivation to work now, but it was the only thing that would keep their mind from wandering too far. Scribbling away once more, (Y/n) couldn't help but to be curious of a soft creaking coming closer to their side, and peek over to see Alastor's watchful regard reading over their writing. "What are you doing?"

"Mere curiosity is all, sweet. You need it in my line of work, but I suppose you would understand where I'm coming from, wouldn't you?"

"It's not my job to be curious, I just simply am."

"Is that so?" Alastor asks with a raise of his brow, "I would've assumed a clever woman such as yourself would have a high standing occupation to go with her wit."

"And that would be a first for me being called clever instead of imprudent," (Y/n) laughs, "Sadly, your assumption is mistaken. I guess people just don't see anything else besides my gender. I can't be smart like a man nor curious like a man can. How lucky for you."

"I could care less," Alastor answers, "All that matters is that I see potential, a potential I can guide."

"What could I possibly give you that won't bite you in retaliation?"

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" He grins somewhat diabolically, "What could society possibly say about you that would bring down the best radio host in city? Trust me, you aren't the only one who's name escapes disquieting tongues. From one interesting person to another, I persist that we join forces. Come work with me at that radio station."

"You come off awfully fast. I don't even know you!"

"You can't race time, but you can be quick with it! You need a job, do you not?"

"I'll think about it," (Y/n) remarks, "I'm still in school after all. I will have to see when and if my schedule permits it. You cannot control time either, you know?"

"I understand completely, my dear! Take all the time you need. My radio isn't going anywhere if I can help it!"

"There you are!" The familiar sound of (Y/n)'s mother calls out over the live music. The fringes of their mother's dress shine under the fluorescents like gold as she walks over to the table, an ecstatic red painted smile expressing how she felt. She looked absolutely stunning, (Y/n) thought. Her aging has always been graceful, like that of fine silk, and a small sense of pride fills them as they think back on Mimzy's praise. (Y/n) never saw themself as beautiful, always opting to hide away from attention as much as they could, but the similarities they had with their mother was something they always liked. "I was worried that you didn't show up."

"I would never disobey you, Ma." (Y/n) comments as their mother sits across from Alastor.

"I see you've made a friend!" Their mom's eyes twinkle as her attentiveness casts over to the man, "I'm Lorraine, (Y/n)'s mother. Pleasure to meet you!"

"The pleasure is all mine!" Alastor greets, "I must say, what an excellent performance you put on earlier! I suppose talent runs in the family?"

(Y/n)'s mother surveys him quizzically, pursing her lips in thought, before her eyes brighten.

"Did (Y/n) let you read her writings? Marvelous, isn't it? I don't know where she got her smarts from, but it surely wasn't me! I have to say though, she normally doesn't get along quick with strangers. What did you do to be so special?"

(Y/n)'s cheeks heat slightly as their mother peeks at them, a smirk on her face. They quickly collect their papers with a pout, glaring from the eulogize words their mom practically sang. "Don't call yourself dumb, Ma. You are anything but," (Y/n) grumbles, "The only reason Mister Alastor here read anything is because he allowed himself to without permission."

"You wound me!" Alastor cries, clasping his suit where his heart should be, "Your work merely fascinates me is all. I offered them a job, you know?"

"Really?" Lorraine exclaims with a gasp, "Oh, (Y/n)! That's wonderful! What will she be doing?"

"Helping me write manuscripts for my broadcast. If she says yes, that is."

"You must say yes, sweetheart! This is a miracle to you from God!" (Y/n)'s mother pleads as she take her child's hands in hers. "It may not be exactly what you want, but you've been given a chance."

"I've been called many things in my life, but God is a first." Alastor bombinates with a tilt of his head.

"Oh! My apologize, Mister Alastor!" their mom remarks, "Thank you for seeing good in my daughter!"

"Why do I feel like I don't have a choice here?" (Y/n) mutters, watching the two adults go back and forth in chatter. Their mother, charismatic as ever, goes off on a tangent about (Y/n)'s greatest strengths that could be useful in the workplace. Her face beams with absolute gratitude and support; it makes (Y/n) feel off about their previous cumbersome comments. Alastor nods along with their mother's insistent information, his head leaning casually against his closed fist.

A sense of mystery surrounds this man, (Y/n) notes cautiously. Though his demeaner was nothing short of friendly, his eyes held unknown intent. The edge of his smile quirks slightly as he continues listening to their mother, but the tapping of his foot shows a sense of urgency. (Y/n) continues observing the stranger, even when his eyes connect with theirs.

All their life, no one besides their mother showed such fervent interest in their activities. On many occasions, they were told that their insistence on bountiful knowledge would only lead them to be fruitless. No one in this city would've told this man good things about their progressive exertion, and it only made (Y/n) want to build up their walls even higher. Their mother wasn't oblivious to people's intentions and wickedness, however. She's had her fair share of snakes, and she knows when to spot one, even with her honey-like spirit. It caused a sense of unsureness within (Y/n)'s own perception; were the things that they heeded true, or was there an underlining of their insecurities seeping through? If their mother didn't raise any alarm of what she thought of Alastor, why should they?

"Can I help you with something?" Alastor calmly asks as his stare bores into (Y/n)'s.

"I was just wondering..." (Y/n) declares, "When would you like me to start?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━☻━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(Y/n) vigorously taps their pencil against the desk, eyes glued to the hands ticking by on the clock above the professor's head. Time surely was testing (Y/n)'s patience today, as their history teacher had brought her lecture to a closing a few minutes ago, and opted the students to work on anything that needed to get done before it was officially time to leave. (Y/n), diligent as ever, made sure to be on top of their class assignments. There was really no reason for them to stay in class; however, the anxiety that bubbled underneath their skin prompted them to linger a little longer.

Very few students remain in the room, most taking the free time as a way of escape from their responsibilities. Though some moil over their own homework in silence, others gathered together leisurely in gossip. The boisterous laughter buzzed uncomfortably in (Y/n)'s ears like that of an unreachable itch, but the loudness of their own head distracted them more so.

With persistent persuasion from their mother after the encounter with Alastor, (Y/n) requested to start at the station the beginning of the upcoming week. The weekend went by before they could even process what they had accepted, and now that the afternoon of their first shift has presented itself in a cloudy manner, (Y/n)'s doubt sprouted in a messy briar of potency. But, the distraction of their own loathing couldn't even be dealt with in peace.

A sharp pain warms the back of (Y/n)'s head with great vehemence, as a strand of their hair is tugged on in an arbitrary manner. The audible hiss that escapes through their teeth causes an eruption of cackles behind them. (Y/n) swiftly turns to the obnoxious noise, icy vexation carrying their stare. Donald Raslo, a boy with slick auburn locks and a smile that would gain any clueless woman's trust, eyes (Y/n) with a look they could only describe as vile. His teeth tug at his bottom lip mischievously, hazel orbs casting over their body. An involuntary shutter of disgust travels down their spine as their fellow classmate reaches over to grab at their hair again.

"Don't touch me," (Y/n) growls in absolute rancor.

"I'm surprised you haven't just shaved it all off yet," Donald simply replies with a maniacal grin. "You know, since you want to be a man so bad."

"You are pathetic," (Y/n) responds coolly as they turn back in their seat to quickly gather their things. Another agonizing pull forces their head back as Donald watches from behind his thin-framed glasses.

"It's all just fun and games!" Donald chuckles, as if his insults were anything but cruel, "You get defensive so quickly. Relax a little, doll."

"What do you want?" (Y/n) bluntly asks, jerking the strand away that Donald curled with his finger.

"I was wondering if you would go to the dance with me. I've wanted to ask for a while now."

A scowl morphs onto (Y/n)'s face, and they rise from their sit. Anger boils throughout their body, their nails involuntarily digging at their palms. Without another word to the boy, (Y/n) excuses themself to their teacher, and flounces out of the room. The heels on their feet become unbearably heavy as they stalk throughout the halls, visibly shaking as the distant feeling of Donald's hand through their hair burns at their scalp. (Y/n) wanted to scrub their head raw as their discomfort taunts them.

The world around them spins, and tears catch at the edge of their eyes. Deep huffs of air exhale from (Y/n) as they try to calm down. They despised themself for letting such childish behavior bring them into such a vulnerable state, but the tightness in their chest was excruciating.

Sometimes, they wished that they weren't so different.

The smell of freshly bloomed marigolds ground (Y/n) back to reality as they push open an exit door of the school. The sky basks in a slate blue, caressing the earth in a rare coolness of spring. The wetness on their cheeks startles them; they hadn't realized they were crying. Wiping their cheeks with the sleeve of their overcoat, they settle themself on the pavement steps gliding down into town. They stare blankly ahead, a fixed frown on their face.

(Y/n) never let the bullying affect them too much, convincing themself that the others were too callow for their own good. They taught themself at a very young age to stifle their insecurities, and eventually, people would just leave you alone. (Y/n) isn't an emotionless robot, however. As hardened as they try to appear, wounds that are consistently probed at never truly heal.

"(Y/n)?"Joanne, small and quiet in tone, carefully settles herself down by them, sun hat in her petite white-gloved hands. Her eyebrows arch together in worry and a deep frown sits on her usually cheerful face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," (Y/n) remarks as their eyes remain ahead. They subtly wipe at their cheeks again, letting out a deep sigh. "What do you need?"

"I wanted to apologize, for what I said to you before. It was very unbecoming of me. I'm sorry."

"Water under the bridge, Ann..."

"Good," Joanne says after a moment, "I couldn't live with my best friend being upset with me."

"I'm not petty by any means. The most I would've done is never talk to you again," (Y/n) snorts.

"You call that not being petty?" Joanne laughs, "You and I have different morals on what that looks like then! Seriously though, are we alright?"

"We will be, (Y/n) replies, "There's still a lot I have to think on."

"I understand... I heard that Donald asked you to the dance. You rejected him."

"I'm guessing he told you that. I'm still not accepting his offer, if that is why you are truly out here."

"I won't pressure you into dating someone you don't like. I know my fair share in that," Joanne reflects as she pinches at the fabric of her skirt delicately, "Will you at least think about going still? Even if you go alone, I'll be happy that you're there."

"You know I don't do good at socializing," (Y/n) answers, "It's best if I just stick to myself."

"Could I maybe convince you over coffee? The cafe should still be open."

"I won't be able to today. I have plans already," (Y/n) acknowledges as they stand. Casting their gaze over to the girl, a smirk cracks onto their solemn expression. "I might take you up on the offer at a later date though. Our last get-together ended kind of sour, after all."

"Sure, but why the sudden leave?" Joanne questions as she stands herself.

"I got a job."

"Oh, (Y/n)! That's wonderful!" Joanne exclaims as she races to hug her friend. "Mind if I ask where?"

"A local radio station," (Y/n) simply remarks, rigidly patting Joanne on the back. Their friend pulls away soon after, hands firmly holding their shoulders and a big grin on her face.

"How long have been working there? Is that why you haven't been around?"

"Not exactly... I've been helping my Mom with her new job after my classes. That's where I met my boss actually; I start today."

"You'll have to tell me all of the details later! Promise you will!"

"I promise... Can you let me go now?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━☻━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Wheels squeal to life as the bus (Y/n) took to the far edge of town starts up again. The ground beneath them rumbles as the trolley continues back to civilization, and (Y/n) begins to venture across the street where the treeline of the marsh begins.

A dirt road trails off into the forest, a black tin mailbox posted alongside it. Glancing at the scrapped piece of paper in their hands, (Y/n) read over the address Alastor hastily wrote down for them a few days before, and confirm this was the driveway to the radio station.

Leaves, thick like smoke, hover over (Y/n) in shadowed agglomerations, and sweat begins to bead across their forehead as the coolness of the day begins to heat up once more. The muggy atmosphere felt almost suffocating, but they continued onwards with tenacious intent. Though anxiety still roared within their heart in fast palpitations, they'd be damned to show up late.

The forest rang with muffled silence, the chirping of crickets seeming to echo but a distance. (Y/n) follows along the wooden fence that barricaded the road from the woodland's depths, and soon enough, a scrupulous house and rustic barn are revealed as the narrow path opens up into a field.

As (Y/n) walks up to the porch, confusion entwines in their thoughts as they quickly notice how vacant this station seemed to be. They knock on the screen door and wait a few moments with furrowed brows.

Where was everybody?

"There you are, dear!" The charismatic voice of Alastor discloses his presence, his never-changing smile lining his pearly whites with thin lines. "I hope your travels gave you no trouble."

"Your station is a long ways from the city. I almost thought I got off at the wrong place. Where are the others?" (Y/n) asks curiously as they walk down to meet him.

"The others?" Alastor questions.

"Surely you don't do everything yourself? Where are your other employees?"

"I don't need a whole group to do tasks I'm perfectly capable of doing myself," Alastor comments as he leads (Y/n) towards the barn with his hand on their upper back. "I will say though, I'm ecstatic to see how you work. I sure do hope you do not disappoint me."

"Me either..." (Y/n) mutters, malaise injecting itself once again into their nerves.

As they enter, (Y/n) notices rather quickly that this isn't a typical barn house, but instead, it has been renovated in Alastor's image. The area was spacious and quaint, organized in a way that aligned with Alastor's schedule. Sound panels lined the wall, a table adjacent to them equipped with a microphone and headphones. Paper cabinets were stationed in the far corner and a cork board pinned with different notes and articles hung above them. A lounge area was arranged near the center, couches patterned with red and black circling a low rising coffee table. Along with the dim bulb lanterns that dropped from the ceiling, the atmosphere was quite cozy.

"This isn't what I was expecting," (Y/n) honestly reports, watching as Alastor casually sits on one of the sofas. "I was imagining a more... Claustrophobic environment to say the least."

"Oh, Heaven's no. I need my space to work," Alastor replies with a soft scoff. (Y/n) felt somewhat small compared to Alastor, his confidence burning like a rapid flame to wind. His knowledge on the world, though ostensibly coming off as arrogant at times, seemed to be too far-reached for the likes of (Y/n). However, a small spark of aspiration lit their need to learn, and a smaller part of them also hoped that Alastor would be patient in his teachings. Yet, (Y/n) also couldn't help but to remain cautious of this man's intentions. His ambitions towards them still remain unclear, and that caused an uncomfortable grip of fear on their heart.

"I'm still not fully sure on why you were insistent that I work for you. What can I do that someone else can't? You said it yourself you can manage perfectly fine on your own. I'm just curious on why," (Y/n) says, hesitantly walking further inside with their bag strap in a deathly grip.

"I've told you before," Alastor remarks in a deep timbered hum, his eye blown out and unwavering as he stares at them. "I want to experiment with your mind. See your ticks and how it responds to certain circumstances. I did my research more than you realize, sweet."

"You purposely sought me out because of gossip? You do realize you are feeding into a media man's stereotype, yes?"

"I never said I believed it! It is my job and passion, however, to create my own hypotheses. If it makes you feel any better, I do find that brain of yours quite fascinating so far."

"I don't really know what to say to that..."

"Let's make a deal then, shall we?" Alastor compels, "I'll let you cover any topic your heart desires while you work under me, and with the condition that you can leave at any time, I get to observe and test you in any way I please."

"And what makes you think I won't walk out of here right now? How can I guarantee you won't use anything against me?" (Y/n) tests with a grimace, hating the slight amusement they found in this position. They took pride in the work they do, knowing that every advantage they can access to achieve the truth should never be taken for granted. On the other hand, they despised needless societal gossip. Being on the receiving end of undeserved hate, they fully understand the need for veracity. Though, they don't fully commend Alastor at this point, the opportunity to disassemble the lies built in New Orleans overweighed any possible hesitations.

"You can't guarantee anything and I won't say if I will or if I won't. I know you won't walk away though," Alastor chuckles, "You are just like me; you won't turn down the possibility of destroying another."

"Is that so?" (Y/n) hisses out, a tempestuous glare keeping up with the puckish one their new boss held with them. "What do we start on first then?"

"Sit, dear." Alastor's smile widens as he gestures to the other couch, "We have much to discuss."

═══════════════════════════

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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hey is it alright if I send a request? Maybe comforting the reader when they are sad and feel inadequate and lonely? I don’t mind who you want to write for I just wanted to ask because I’m really struggling atm

Helloooo! I'm sorry you are feeling down. I also have been feeling down for a while, so this kind of took me some time to write. I didn't really know what to say to make myself feel better let alone someone else...but Vass just has a way of cheering people up I think ^_^

Drider (Vass) x gender neutral reader

Word Count: 1.2k

W: hurt/comfort fluff, little bit of angst and bathtime, sfw drider fluff

“What’s wrong (Y/N)?” Vass asked, looking down at you.

You weren’t your usual cheerful self, bouncing around his nest on the spongy floor as you worked on the little assignments he gave you to help him out with his business.

You sniffled and Vass gasped, scooping you up in his arms.

“Dumpling,” he murmured, pushing your tear streaked face up to his, “tell me what’s going on…”

You nodded to the mess you’d made on the floor. While working with the dyes you’d spilled the wrong color and then slipped in it, turning you and a whole pile of six beautiful shirts that were supposed to be red, blue. There was no way that was coming out and it was all uneven. You couldn’t save any of it, not to mention the blotchy blue streaks covering your feet and legs. You’d be dyed for weeks.

“I can’t do anything right,” you mumbled, lowering your head, “I just mess everything up.”

“(Y/N),” he cooed, trying to give you an encouraging smile, “you just made a mistake. I’m glad you didn’t hurt yourself falling but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Your eyes filled with tears.

“No,” you murmured, “I’m just a fuck up. I always ruin everything. That’s why they made me a trapper and wouldn’t let me back in the village. I was always knocking things over and breaking things. It’s like…I have a curse or something.”

On the word curse you let out a high pitched sob and tears tumbled from your cheeks.

“I’m cringe,” you wailed.

Vass tried not to laugh.

“Cringe?” he asked.

You nodded through your tears.

“My whole life is just cringe. Everyone else makes a mistake once in a while, but I can’t walk two feet without breaking something or knocking it over or saying something stupid.”

Vass clucked.

“I’ve never heard you say anything stupid, (Y/N)” he assured you.

You trembled in his arms.

“You don’t understand,” you sniffled, “you haven’t known me long enough. Once I told the chief of the village in front of the whole assembly that he “rode me too hard” and everyone laughed. I was always saying stupid stuff like that. I was the laughing stock of the whole village. I’m just…cringe…nothing comes out right. I can’t ever do anything right. It was better when I couldn’t speak at all. I just suck.”

You dissolved into your own pity party of tears and Vass sighed, pulling you to his chest, tucking you under his chin while he carried you to the bathroom. He didn’t speak or try to console you while he undressed you and then slid into the water with you. Sitting you on the little ledge of the large pool he carefully scrubbed the excess dye off of your feet.

It didn’t come off completely, but you were no longer dripping with it.

“You wanna know how my dad died?” Vass asked suddenly.

You blinked at him through your tears. It wasn’t the sort of thing you could say “no” to, despite how caught up you were in your own misery so you nodded.

“He was unabashedly a bastard,” he announced with a chuckle.

You blinked.

“What?” you asked.

Vass’s eight eyes flicked up to you and he nodded.

“He was. He was mean, drank too much and got meaner. He used to walk around the castle showing his dick to anyone he could catch just to prove how big it was and trust me it wasn’t that big. He almost bankrupted us on multiple occasions, almost dragged us into war by sleeping with the King of Verunia’s wife, and wrote really, really, really bad poetry about all of it, which he insisted our papers publish. He even wrote and forced the court to cast in movies he produced about his exploits, always painting himself as the hero.

“He died in a prison cell in Verunia, not from execution, but because he tried to eat a rat and contracted some kind of plague that gave him diarrhea. Can you imagine? The King of our land dying from trying to gnaw on a rat? The papers all published that he shit himself to death. The King. He was cringe, but you know what? The asshole had the most confidence of anyone I’ve ever met. It’s not fair.”

Your mouth fell open a little at his story.

“What’s not fair?”

He chuckled.

“That you’re in my bathtub crying over being the cutest little thing on the planet and he…spent his whole life informing anyone who would listen of what he thought were his many endearing attributes. I mean…anyone else would have been embarrassed, but not him. He held his head high every day of his life and I imagine he died with his head just as high.”

He shook his head.

“It’s not that you’re cringe,” he sighed, “it’s that the world doesn’t work right. The best people question themselves endlessly while the worst breeze through life like nothing around them matters. It should be the other way around.”

He gave you a small lopsided smile.

“You could spill a thousand vats of dye and you’d never be as cringe as my dad,” he said, “if you want more proof I’ll show you some of his poetry.”

You looked at him and blinked before a little giggle wormed its way past your lips.

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I shouldn’t laugh.”

He shrugged.

“It’s funny now,” he said, “but I can’t in good conscience let you sit here and beat yourself up and that’s what you’re doing. You’ve cornered yourself and now you are beating yourself down with your words. So you say silly things sometimes and you’re a little clumsy? You’ve never tried to hurt anyone. You’re kind to me and everyone else you’ve met.”

He chuckled.

“You try not to step on ants,” he said, brushing your cheek with his fingertips, “If that’s your brand of cringe then I will happily be cringe with you. You can be cringe all day and I’m just going to think you’re cute.”

You pouted.

“It’s not cute,” you said, crossing your arms.

He smirked at your defiance.

“I’m not allowed to think you’re cute anymore?” he fake pouted back at you with his handsome face, “dunno if I can do that.”

He pinched your blue toes.

“You’ve got cute little toes…”

Then he pinched your knees.

“Cute little knees…”

His fingers traveled up to your soft belly.

“Cute little belly…”

He gathered your hands in his and pulled them to his lips.

“Ten cute little fingers…”

His eyes focused on your lips and he bent down and pressed his mouth gently against yours.

“And a perfect, cute little mouth,” he purred into your lips.

You were too flustered to feel very upset anymore and your cheeks bloomed with heat. He pulled you into his arms and rested his head on your shoulder so you felt the heat of his breath on your neck.

“So stop beating up my cute little mate,” he said quietly, “I love you and I’ll fight you if I have to.”

You giggled at that.

“You’re gonna fight me?” you asked.

He nodded into your neck.

“I’ll fight anyone who tries to hurt my mate, even you,” he assured you.

You giggled a bit and leaned your head back into his chest.

“Well you’re a lot bigger and stronger than me,” you sighed, “I guess I have no choice but to surrender.”

He hummed happily in victory. You still felt a little cringe and maybe a little silly for even being upset to start with but tucked in Vass’s arms you felt like it might be okay anyway.

#drider x human #drider boyfriend #yandere male #monster x reader #x reader #drider x reader #yandere fluff #male yandere #monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster romance #human x monster #monster oc #spider #drider #sfw monster fluff #monster fluff #fantasy fluff

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