#“you make her feel like she's not a mistake at all-- like she's better for being different-- and that gives her the courage to fight on”

[applecath]

I agree with feminism-of-course, and I believe it is useful to have separate terms for men/boys and women/girls. After all, a girl can also be told that she "throws like a girl", but the underlying messages behind this are different.

For a boy, the message is "boys - children like you - are better at this, and you fall out of line. fix this". So essentially, he is told that he is too good to perform so badly.

While for a girl, the message is "children like you are bad at this, and you are bad at this also, because you are a girl, and being a girl makes you bad". She is told that she is too bad to perform well.

You can see that these are very different, even though both support the system of oppression of women.

One could say that the insult used towards the girl cuts deeper, because it references her intrinsic nature as a girl, and reinforces that it is what makes her bad. On the contrary, for the boy, his nature is held to a high regard, his failure is treated as more of a mistake than an inevitable conclusion. It would still feel bad, surely, but in a different, more superficial, way.

In any case, it is convention to call the forces of sexist system of power that are directed at women and girls, and are designed to keep them subjugated, "misogyny". We understand that, as men benefit from this system and enforce it, they come from men. If these forces are directed at men themselves, it shouldn't be called the same, because the context and effect are different. "Misandry", in my opinion, sounds too much like an analog to "misogyny", and would give a wrong impression (it is not women who oppress men, it's men's actions backfiring). Maybe we could call it "sexism", because it comes from the same source as misogyny, as feminism-of-course said. Or possibly there is a better, more specific, term.

I've been thinking about the one post that had some weirdo TIRF on it talking about how "men 👏 don't 👏 experience 👏 misogyny" and everybody just kind of skipped to talking about how ofc trans men experience misogyny but like

We can't just skip how fucking asinine that sentence is on its face. That is not ground that should be conceded, bc trying to state as if it's a plain fact that "men don't experience misogyny" should get you laughed out of any room you're in.

Every time a boy is told he "throws like a girl" or is called a "little baby girl" for crying, he's experiencing misogyny because he's being devalued for traits that others see as feminine, traits which those doing the mocking see as belonging to women. Every time a fat dude's "moobs" get mocked, he's experiencing misogyny. Every time a girl makes fun of a dude for enjoying something she perceives as feminine, he's experiencing a double whammy of misogyny and homophobia.

There is no other reasonable way to discuss what these men are experiencing. That's misogyny.

The longer I talk with people in all kinds of marginalized groups online, the more convinced I am both that it's very understandable that people want their experiences and their hurts and their oppressions to be totally unique and unable to be experienced by anybody who isn't part of their group and also that anybody who hammers away on the idea that "only [X] can experience [Y]" and devotes excessive time to guarding the borders of their little fiefdom is not just not helping the cause of liberation, but is actively degrading our chances of making meaningful change.

I would go so far as to say there probably isn't a man alive who has zero experience of misogyny. Misogyny is leveraged against men constantly as a form of social control. Just because it's "do X or we will devalue you by calling you a woman" doesn't make it not an experience of misogyny.

Is it exactly the same thing that women experience? No, but also what different groups of women and different individuals experience is also different. There is no flawlessly singular experience of oppression experienced only by women, experienced the same way by all women, and never endured by men.

With that very simple fact in mind, spending time endlessly trying to police the way that another marginalized individual speaks about the method and effect of their own oppression rather than finding solidarity and commonality is fucking fed shit. It does not serve us and actively sabotages all of us, serving only those who actively benefit from our subservience and our infighting.

So fucking stop it.

[antizenin]

𑁤 ROUGH AROUND THE EDGES ⋮ BAKUGO KATSUKI

you've made your way up the rankings and retired pro-hero, dynamite aka bakugo katsuki, couldn't be more proud.

( fic demographics. ) boku no hero academia, bakugo katsuki, sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact & 7.3k words !

➛ retired pro-hero!bakugo katsuki, sidekick turned pro-hero!reader (she/they), age gap (bakugo in his early to mid fifties/reader in their early thirties), alcoholic consumption, standing sixty-nine, playful banter, some bratty behavior, rough sex, unprotected sex (creampie), multiple orgasm, mating press, cum swallowing, slight slapping, dirty talk, etc.

Bakugo doesn’t quite remember when he started feeling so old. When did his hearing become so sensitive? Was it from the multiple times he had was an inch away from his own end— a ringing in his ear that was damn-near deafening? Or is it simply because he’s halfway to his sixties? When had his appetite become so bland? How come he can’t drink as much as he wants now that he’s retired from being a pro-hero? 

He thought the moment he finally received an actual break, things would get better, but he’s wishing to go back. Is there a type of quirk that’ll de-age him? It doesn’t have to last forever, just long enough where he can bask and reminisce in the feeling of being young and in his prime. Now he’s in his mid-fifties and he can’t move as freely as he wants to anymore. He was once a high-ranking hero working his ass off to be at the top and giving himself little time to enjoy it. Not that he could, danger was always a millisecond away. He got everything he ever wanted. He should be proud of it, and he is. He truly is, but God damn, sometimes does he have regrets. 

He’s still nursing this glass of whiskey that the bartender served him for ten minutes, sitting at the bar of a pristine place only open to pro-heros and sidekicks, active or retired. It’s a Thursday evening, a quiet night unlike its usual business. Bakugo’s always here on a Thursday, so much so that the moment he walks in, the bartender Akiri already has his drink waiting for him. Always cold and fresh, like it was served right in front of him. She has a weird quirk— everlasting ice— but it proves to be great in her line of business. 

The television is on and despite the music playing, he can hear the current news report. 

“This just in on Pro-Hero ranking, Spiderweb continues to climb the charts, their venomous webs seemingly seeping a new poison that makes every fall in love with her. Rumor has it that she’ll be the number one hero within the next month—”

Bakugo doesn’t hear your arrival, not hearing the jingle of the overhead bells the moment you walk in. He doesn’t even hear the moment you slide out the chair, its legs scraping against the tiled ground. You frown as his focus remains on the television, watching you when the real deal is right there. He really is getting rusty.

“You're losing your touch, Dynamite,” you slide on the stool, grabbing his drink right out of his hand the moment he falls out of his trance. “A villain could've walked right in and you would've been—” you snap your fingers. “—done for.”

He ignores your comment because he knows you're right. Can't argue that he still had the skills. He had some, but some wouldn't be enough. Instead he takes you, drinking you with his eyes. You're still in your hero suit that closely resembles everyday clothing to the regular eye, but Bakugo knows how you designed your hero fit, he helps you improve it after all. 

An ashy purple top that sucked you in, holding you in place. It had a dark gem-like pattern on it that people could mistake for rhinestones, but you were intricate with the design, using the same fluid you use to take down villains to help create the spider web pattern that runs down the top. Around your wrists, are smaller and more stylistic versions of his gauntlets, resembling bangles to help you store sweat. Similar to his quirk, you form the webs through your build up of yours with further additions. He remembered you explaining just exactly how your quirk works, but started to check out once it became too biological. 

Your black pants were baggy, helping with your own comfort as you had a fanny pack around your waist, holding them up. The boots you wore were another storage for your sweat, your clothes being a tool to absorb your bodily fluids, where you were able to experiment with yourself and further prove your usefulness. It definitely contrasted with your old sidekick uniform— a skimpy piece that you paid someone to have designed for you and you didn't have the heart to tell that you didn't like it. Considering that you're climbing the rankings now, he figures you've finally grown that backbone you used to lack when he first got you. 

“Well, if it isn't Spiderweb,” he turns in his seat to face you. It's apparent that he still works out, arms still bulging out, though he's gaining some chub in some places. But that scar on his face and his facial expression doesn't have you fooled, he's still rough around the edges. “I still prefer Deadly Spider, by the way.”

You roll your eyes with the tilt of your head as you scoff out sarcastically, “Of course, you do, Explosion Murder God— whatever it is.”

“Haha,” he feigns laughter, subconsciously scooting closer to you. “What're you doing here? Shouldn't you still be on patrol?”

“I'm not rumored to become number one for nothing,” you wink. I finished up early. Bakugo snorts. Finishing up early doesn't exist, and you know that. Hearing his snort, you stop the joking and become a little more serious. You technically weren't lying when you said you finished up early. “I was on a case for a while. I should still be out there, but I managed to crack shit down and I decided I needed to reward myself after a long day.”

He nods, bringing his glass to his lips finally. “You've gotten good,” he gestures to the screen.

“I had a good mentor,” you smile. He chuckles at that, “Damn right, ya did.”

You can't help but giggle as you slump in the chair. You can see him looking at you from the corner of his eyes, those vermillion eyes that used to always be set in a scowl now seem to be brighter. He lets out a breath as he downs the whiskey in one go. “‘m proud of ya, (Y/N). You're not disappointing me after all.”

“Have I ever?” You expect the answer to be yes. That there must've been times where you've disappointed him, especially in your early days of being a sidekick. A few UA graduates that had your tail between your legs and didn't know how you survived the lot of it. You made stupid mistakes and were chastised for it. Surely those were the moments where he was obviously disappointed in you, right? 

There's a long pause before he's shaking his head, beckoning the bartender over and asking for two more glasses. The bartender is quick, placing one in front of you and Bakugo. You're not a drinker, but you take a few sips from it. “Nah. Always knew I passed the torch to the right person.”

You snort, calling his blasphemy. “You're lying to me to make me feel good. What about that time I dropped that serum?”

“It was your first big case with me as a fresh graduate,” he remembered that day vividly. It was a month in of you being his sidekick. You were used to being by his side during patrols and smaller cases. He didn't expect to have you thrown in something like that so soon. He wanted to leave you behind, but others thought otherwise and in a rare moment, he didn't follow his intuition. “You were bound to fuck up after being thrown in with the wolves.”

Your eyes widen at his nonchalance, but they become serious in an effort to prove him wrong. Why would you want to? Bakugo can't understand as you start relaying moments where you messed up, whether it was a small accident or a huge fuckup. Stubborn as an ass, Bakugo still upholds his position. “Quit it, won'tcha? If I thought y’er a disappointment, you'd’ve been fired a long time ago.”

“Well,” you start to tear up. “That's refreshing to hear after all.”

“Now, don't make me change my mind!” He knows you all too well, seeing how the corner of your eyes start to water. “Here I thought ya finally grew a backbone, but y’still cry like a baby.”

“What?” You exclaim, not denying his claims. “I've never cried in front of you. How'd you even know?”

“Y’always were on the verge of tears, honey,” he smirks. “It wasn't hard to miss.”

The way honey fell from his lips with ease. His raspy voice sent something straight through you that it was hard to keep your composure. You're starting to remember your younger years where you'd ogle him, all while trying to not cry from him yelling at you. Despite how rough he seemed back then, you had developed a crush that you thought you grew out of. But, here you are, falling back into old ways. 

If Bakugo notices a shift, he doesn't mention it. Instead, swiveling back around to stare at God knows what. You clear your throat, taking a huge gulp of the whiskey. Your throat burns as you quickly question why Bakugo seems to like it so much. “I'm getting better though. At hiding my tears, and I do have a backbone, by the way. Just took me a while to find it, but it's all intact.”

“Good to know,” Bakugo says, dismissively, the atmosphere changing. You try to say something else, but you can't find anything to talk about anymore, despite your mind running with lots of stuff. You remembered a month into Bakugo's retirement that he started coming to Sakura's Blossom— the bar you're in now. A popular place for heroes to relax, somewhere Bakugo used to always avoid as a hero, becoming a favorite for him. When he pushed you to become a hero, your early days were close in its vicinity. You'd always see him walk in, but he's never seen you. It became a regular for him to come in on Thursdays, making it easy for you to find him.

You've always wanted to run after him, tell him how much you're grateful for his endorsement and that you'll make him proud. Because in the midst of it all, you had forgotten to and it was slowly eating at you. You had been raised to always give gratitude and you couldn't even thank the man that put you where you are today. But now, your throat is dry and you still can't. 

You can. You. Can. You can—

Bakugo pushes out against the chair, standing up as he pays for the bill— for both yours and his drinks. He nods towards the bartender before looking down at a speechless you. “Good night, Spiderweb.”

You should've said it then, but you don't. “Good night, Dynamite.”

—

You managed to change your schedule, so that you have Thursday nights free, managing to find another hero willing to switch with you. You start making regular appearances when Bakugo's there, and when he asks, you always lie. Though, you know that he knows you're lying. However, he never says your word. Simply just enjoying your company. 

You missed him, missed having him around. And he realizes that he's missed you. When he first became a pro-hero and as he grew comfortable in this dangerous career, he flew solo. Did everything on his own and didn't want a shadow that wasn't his own following him around. However, as he grew in age and realized that a second hand wouldn't hurt, he hired you to help make things easier for him. 

At first, you were a mere pain in the ass. Like you had said, you had messed up countless times and God, was he close to firing you at plenty of points in time. But, something was hindering him from doing so. He just couldn't do it. So, he kept you and trained you to be who you needed to be— helped shape yourself into someone he was proud of, as well as yourself. Sometimes when you'd seek his advice, your voice would get soft and he’d be reminded of that young woman you once were, but you've grown so much. You still might not believe him, but damn is he proud of you.

“Breaking News! Spiderweb has found themself in a web of her own. An elaborate plan on her part turned against her as a villain gives her a taste of her own medicine. Luckily, other pro-heros within her vicinity were able to help rescue them, but she was gravely injured and was brought to the hospital. Reporters have yet to hear about their condition—

Bakugo doesn't think twice before he's springing from his seat, dropping some cash and heading in your direction. He should've known from the moment that you were ten minutes late than when you usually drop in to chat that something was up. “Fuck,” he curses, climbing into his vehicle and speeding in your direction. If he's got it right, he knows exactly where you've been taken. 

You've been in and out of consciousness the moment an IV has been shoved in your veins from the joint of your arms and biceps. You were in an immense amount of pain, nearly every part of your body aching. When you squint your eyes open, you're greeted with white and you know you're in the hospital. It should be a relief, you're alive, but you feel the tears building up. You've failed. And you have before, but this time it's different. 

In the midst of finding your groove and truly feeling like yourself, you've been forced flat on your back and lost the upper hand, having to depend on others to rescue you instead of doing the rescuing. You were careless, wreckless, a disappoint—

“Where is she?” You recognize that voice. That gruff and raspy voice. It doesn't help soothe the pain, only making it worse as you begin to sob. The machine you're hooked up to starts beeping erratically. 

“Sir, we need you to calm down. She's just starting to become stable. She's in good hands—”

“Then why won't you let me see her?” Bakugo slams his fist into the desk. “She's not in surgery, is she?”

“No, but…” It goes silent from there, hearing a slew of voices and footsteps rushing towards you before Bakugo follows. “That's her! Let me see—”

“Sir, if you do not calm down, we won't have a choice in having you removed!”

You don't remember much from that point on, knowing that Bakugo didn't go down without a fight and probably finding some sort of loophole into seeing you again. When you open your eyes once more, you're more stable and not in and out of sleep. You're still in pain, but feeling slightly better. 

“Yer up,” a deep voice booms, filled with exhaustion as a huge yawn leaves Bakugo's mouth. “‘Bout damn time.”

You should be happy that he stayed to make sure you're in a stable condition and that he cares for you, but you aren't. Only reminded of your mistake. “You—you should go.”

You end up croaking and stammering on your words, but he makes out what you say and scoffs. “What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout? Didn't come rushin’ here and fight off a guard just to be told to leave.” 

“Dynamite—”

“Bakugo—”

“Dynamite,” you pause, expecting him to rebuttal, but he doesn't. “Please, I don't have the strength. And, I don't want you seeing me like this.”

“Seeing you like how?”

“Vulnerable.”

He snorts, crossing his arms as he stands over you by the bed. His big arms bulge as he doesn't take you seriously for a second. “Don't give me that shit. I'm stayin’.”

You don't even know why you tried arguing with a stubborn ass like him. You should've known it was pointless. He always seems to get his way, so instead. You do what you do best. Cry. 

And it's worse than he can ever imagine. You're in full-blown tears, sobbing heavily that your eyes will be bloodshot red by the end of it. He doesn't know what to do or what to say to get you to stop, leaving him speechless as he can do nothing but stand there. Why don't you want him there so bad?

“I… I failed you,” you finally sob out, clenching your fists as they crack. Your nails dig into your skin as you force your body to turn away from him.

“What are you talking about?” Bakugo asks, incredulous. “Failed me, how?”

“I got too ahead of myself,” you further explain. “Thought I could take that villain on my own, only to get a taste of my own medicine.”

Is this what this is about? Why you were in such a haste to kick him out of your hospital room? 

His uncontrollable laughter catches you off guard, having you spinning your head to look at him so hard that it hurts. “W-why are you laughing? It's not funny!” 

“Oh, honey.” There he goes, calling you honey in your horrible predicament. “But it is!”

His laughter dies down not too shortly after, a hand instinctively reaching to caress you, pushing away your braids that nurses lazily put in a ponytail. “It was bound to happen. You climb up the ranks, get a little cocky and then God strikes ya down. Happens to us all.”

“You make my near-death experience sound like it's normal,” you mumble.

“It is,” he points out. “For people like us. It's what we signed up for— it's what you signed up. Be grateful you're alive. From what I'm hearing, you'll make a great recovery. If Recovery Girl was working here, you'd have been out of here quicker than this.”

“I thought you were going to chastise me,” you admit. “It's what I wanted— what I needed.”

“If ya wanted it so much, you wouldn't’ve tried kicking me out.”

“Mmm, maybe you're right,” you give up. “You should still, though.”

His eyes grow dark in a teasing fashion, looking down at you. “And give ya what you want so easily? Not a fat chance.”

—

As Bakugo had said you would, you make a speedy recovery, getting back on your toes in no time. You take his advice, taking it easy and to not make the mistakes he made earlier on in going solo. Your ranking has dropped a few, having to live with the next month or so with people ridiculing and noting how you got full of yourself. They were right, you did, and you'll learn to be better— to accept help and ask for it. Being a pro-hero isn't a one-man gig, after all. 

You still have your Thursday nights free to spend them with Bakugo. Your accident seems to bring the two of you incredibly closer, and to the few onlooking pros that saunter inside, it's too close. You scrunch up your nose in laughter. You slap at his chest in your fit of giggles as his arms instinctively wrap around your waist and pull you closer, your head falling to his chest. You're laughing so hard that it's hard to breathe and you're nearly choking. “Woah there, honey. ‘M not that funny.”

You stop laughing, expression turning serious in a millisecond that it's nearly concerning until your voice is barely above a whisper, “Stop calling me honey. I don't think you're aware of what it does to me.”

For a moment, Bakugo’s eyes widen at your openness before they share the same darkness that yours have been growing. “I wasn't, but now that I am, I think I'll just abuse that little info.”

— 

Maybe Bakugo’s alright with this period in his life after all. Being able to say that he's an experienced man, where despite his long days of pro-hero work, he's managed to keep his dick wet through it all. It means he knows how to please someone of your caliber. 

He's a big man, despite the pudge that's grown on him. He can't workout as much as he used to, but picking you up? You're light as a feather. 

The moment he got you through his front door, he couldn't wait any longer. He needed you in a way he's never felt with any other woman. The taste of your lips don't compare to the plenty of one night stands he's had. He's got you in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist as he pushes you against the door. The tent in his pants continues to form, rubbing against you as slick sticks to the crotch of your panties. 

“Fuck,” he curses deliriously, pulling away from the kiss with a hiss. His eyes are low and hazy, filled with wanton lust. “Bet ya taste so good. Been wanting to try ya for a while.”

“Oh really?” You giggle, eyes sparkling in interest. You buck your hips into him, feeling his cock against your core. He's pulling at the hem of your shirt, helping you out of this damned hero costume. “Since when?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs with a pant. With the top of your suit gone, you do him the favor of kicking off your pants. Leaving you nearly bare and for him ogle. His eyes are glued to your chest, getting rid of your bra next to play with your dark and pert nipples. Your breasts are perky, ready to be sucked on. He takes a nipple in his mouth before remembering what else he wanted to say. “Since ya started stalking me at the bar.”

“Wait,” despite the sexual situation you find yourself in, your eyes widen at the sheer fear that he knew that you had watched him. That he had known the small fact that you had memorized his scheduled visits to Sakura's Blossom. You push against his chest, pulling him away from your breasts. “You knew that I knew all this time?” 

“Feel like we're no longer on the same page here,” he furrowed his eyebrows to clarify, fingers trailing to pinch at your nipples. “But since ya started yer regular visits.”

“Oh,” your breath of relief turns into a whine when he twists rather harshly. 

“Y’were watching me from before?” His gaze becomes stern in a teasing manner, moreso like he's bemused by the fact. 

“Used to patrol right next to Sakura's,” you shamelessly admit, gnawing on your bottom lip as you start to grind against his cock. It has him remembering why you're here, what he wants to do to you. “A hot spot for pro-heros— a villain's bound to hit some day.”

“Oh, shut up already,” he finally huffs out. 

“You're the one asking the—” You squeal as Bakugo flips you upside down, feeling his nose press into your mound. He takes a deep inhale that you can feel. His hold on you gets tight, a visceral grip that will have your sides aching by the morning. “Oh, gosh! Dynamite!”

Your damn dedication to calling him his hero name pisses him off, especially in a position like this. “Don't call me Dynamite when I'm tryna eat yer pussy.” The slap to your ass echos the room, you swallowing a breath of air in your shock. “It's Bakugo or Katsuki from this point on, got it?”

He slaps your ass again at your silence. “Ya got it?”

“Fuck,” you finally mewl out. “Yes, Bakugo.”

His cock twitches, loving the way you say his last name. He smirks. “I'll make sure that I have it engraved in your head when I'm done with you.”

“Didn't you tell me to shut up alr— oh…” 

You feel his tongue against your covered mound, pressing into the fabric before the sound of sucking. He can taste you through it. He can taste your juices through the cotton of your panties with no shame at all. His eyes flutter shut as he feels your hands reach for his hips and dig your nails into him. They go through his shirt and into his skin as you can't help but roll your pelvis into him. 

You can feel the blood rush to your head, but fuck are you enjoying this. His desperation to taste you at his front door, not bothering to get you down on a bed. More juices pool from you as you gain more stability in this position, bucking your hips up to his mouth as you feel his teeth graze your skin, catching the hem of your panties and tugging it to the side. The cold conditioned air that breathes down on your core is brutal and in the darkness, Bakugo can see your pussy shine in its wetness. “Shit, I’ve gotcha all to myself, don't I? You're just mine for the taking.”

Your hands traverse to his bottoms, unzipping it as you nod. “‘m all yours, Bakugo.”

You pull down his pants as best as you can, palming his cock through his underwear and hearing a slew of curse words fall from his lips. “Yer gonna be the death of me.”

Finally do you reach in his pants, pulling out his cock. He's been losing a lot of things due to age lately, and he's grateful that an erection isn't on the list yet. Hard and prominent and all for you, he can only see so much, trying to get a good look at your face from the position, but it's hopeless, he can only feel how good you are. With one hand, he uses it to wrap around your waist tightly before using the other to rub two fingers between your folds, hissing when he feels your tongue against his tip. He spreads your slick down your pussy, making your lips all messy of yourself while he tries to remain steady as you take him in.

You can't help but moan, feeling yourself pulsate at the idea of sucking Bakugo off. How the sheer thought of it makes your pussy pool with heat. Legs wrapped around his head, you yearn for more than just his fingers as they dance around your entrance, his middle and index digits a mess. Your heart races as your tongue swirls around his tip, tasting his precum against your lips. You salivate, letting your spit lubricate his cock as you use a hand to hold it up. You shuffle to get your tongue at the base, the tip of it touching the juncture of where his cock and balls meet. You feel a vein just right there and it seems to be a sensitive spot for dear old Bakugo, causing him to shudder the moment you touch it. 

“Keep doing that n’ I'm gonna cum like a little boy,” he warns you. And you were going to keep at it and play the part of a dirty little vixen until you feel his wet muscle at the center of your nectarine. Lips around your clit, Bakugo groans around it, tasting you from the fruit itself. It surely keeps you occupied as you momentarily lose focus. You grip around his base, squeezing it and causing his fingers to dig deep into you. Whimpering at the pain, it jolts you out of your haze as you bring his cock to your lips. It's a ravenous torture between the two of you, trying to bask in your pleasure while trying to grant the other some as well. 

Still, you mewl and moan around his length, eyes sparkling in delight as you swallow his shaft. Cheeks hollowing as his pink, cut top rests on your tastebuds. Pre continues to leak from him, a translucent mess that slides down with ease. He feels so good inside your mouth, and you can feel his legs flexing and contracting at what you're administrating. A true, dirty vixen you are.

But, Bakugo's no better to you. Lapping at your pussy like a starved man, both of you are so eager to give to each other. He tastes the intricacies of your pussy, mapping it out with his tongue as his grip around your waist tightens and his free hand is back to join the party. A thumb pressing down on your clit, building up pressure and has your legs tightening around his head. Around his length, your moans become more high-pitched at the overstimulation, feeling your legs tense then untense. 

Your face is a mess, saliva dripping down to your forehead due to this upside down state. Your head beginning to hurt but you don't have the heart to tell Bakugo to stop because you don't want to. It's bound for him to change positions soon, but gosh, you want to delve in this a little longer. You continue to bob your head, the wet sounds mixing with your slurps further sounding the room. You become daring, letting go of your other hand around him and putting all of your faith into Bakugo. Your upper body dangling upside down as your other free hand travels to cup his balls, shortly remembering that spot he oh-so warned you about. 

You fondle them, greeted back to that jerk of his leg as his waist’s now pressed to the door. He momentarily pulls off of you to curse, “Shit.”

However, he never corrected you or tried to get you to stop, simply speeding up his attack on your clit to receive a close response as well. It works, but you remain focus as your mouth is off him for a second as you stroke his length, finally taking in just how big he is and how you truly weren't able to fit all of him in. All this time, working with an aged cock that could destroy you. It has you whimpering out to yourself at the anticipation of your pussy being stretched out by him. His cock glistens even with such a lack of light, your spit being the work of that. Your strokes are quick and languid, mirroring his reign on your clit, causing your hips to jerk and twitch every so often. 

Your actions falter every once in a while, but you're so determined. You're always so determined, that's what Bakugo adores about you. Even as a sidekick that often fucked up, you had your own way of showing it. You were just like him in a way, stubborn as a mule to get what you want. You just needed to learn how not to give in to people when they bite harder. And here he is, gently nibbling down on your folds, but you refuse to back down, determined to make him come undone. 

You fondle his balls, adjusting his cock up, going to that dangerous place that he warned about. A chaste kiss before your lips are fully around it and you're suckling on one of his sacs. In this position, you can truly get a good whiff of him. There's a musk, but don't be mistaken, he's sure to clean himself. It's not overpowering as you can still smell the minty hint of whatever brand of bar soap he's using. The combination has your senses going to overdrive as your legs tighten immensely around him for a moment. 

That typical clench of your stomach goes ignored as you're determined to make Bakugo release. You're unforgiving and relentless, stroking his cock as mouth tries to fit his second sac of balls in. Your moan has become a melody to his ears as his head hits the door and he tries to remain focused on your pussy. She's so damn close, he grunts to himself. Don't give into her just yet. However, it's easier said than done when he feels his cock twitching in your hold and he moans. Sending vibrations straight to your core, your achievement and his response is enough for that band in your stomach to finally snap as he lets go. 

You both gift each other your essence. You, you're the forbidden nectar in the garden of Eden, your juices so natural that it tastes sweet. There's a tang to it that has him quickly intoxicated as he finds himself addicted. Him, he's like a refreshing taste of cold water on a hot summer day. You're feeling nothing but delight when his white cum shoots down your throat and you have no choice but to swallow everything— you wouldn't dare spit anything out. 

You both need a breather to come back to the present. You're still stuck in this now painful position as your head comes to throb and you have to croak out Bakugo's name to remind him. Slowly but surely does he get you back on the right side up before finally taking a step away from the door. His legs work like muscle memory as his lips plant on yours, swallowing away the pain as he makes a beeline for his bedroom. Pushing open the door and not bothering to have it shut, he hurries to put you down on the bed. He still has you in his arms when he does, grinding his still hardened length against your pussy. All traces of your release disappeared on his tongue, but you can still taste the remnants of yourself, as you both can taste each other. 

Now that you're on a bed, you feel yourself slowly checking out as the pain is slowly alleviated by your comfort. Bakugo mutters some stuff that you couldn't care less about, only mewling and nodding in agreement until you feel his hand grab your face, squeezing your cheeks. It's hard to focus on him, to stare right back into his eyes. 

“Awww,” he coos. “Is it all too much for my baby?” He noticed your disorientation immediately, planting a chaste kiss on your lips as his eyebrows knit with concern. “She doesn't want to stop, does she?”

Immediately comprehending that, you shake your head. “Mmm, no,” you squeak out. However, Bakugo's lips drop to your ears, whispering out, “are ya sure? We can always—”

“Yes— yes, I'm sure,” you persist. “I need you, Bakugo. Would you not help a woman in need?”

He doesn't like the way you stammered out that yes, still peering down at you. However, your eyes have significantly steadied now and that same brand of determination is back on your face to finally convince him. He finally caves with a barely audible ‘okay.’ He dives down to meet you for another kiss, hands roaming to grip your legs. So focused on the kiss, you're taken aback when he hikes on leg up, your knee touching your shoulder. His cock is perfectly slotted in between your folds before he does the same with your other leg. 

“Bakugo,” you groan at this change of position. He claims that you'll be the death of him, but you beg to differ. Your soiled panties are still on you, which Bakugo is sure to get rid of in a hurried haste, pulling so hard at it that it rips. You gasp, calling out his name once more, but he dismisses your complaint. “You'll be fine.”

You feel so exposed with your body pressed like this, in the dark with Bakugo looming over you. His cock slides in between your folds, wet sounds running through the air. You don't know what he's waiting for, so you do the work for him, wanting him to ravish you just as much as he does. That familiar grip returns to his cock and before you can press his head to your entrance, he slaps your hand away. You whine in protest, but he pushes you. “Have some patience, honey. Good things take time.”

The return of that damn nickname he's given you. Once used sarcastically, now one that he's going to use to his advantage because of you— all because you couldn’t keep in your attraction for him anymore. You should be grateful for it. It's landed up in this position, but now he always has the upperhand over you, knowing just how to make you cave. 

You clench around nothing, feeling his shaft go in a back and forth rhythm as it barely presses down on your clit how you want it to. You whine nonetheless, hoping that Bakugo will pity your desperation and give in. “Bakugo, please… I need you in me. Need to know how you feel.”

One hand comes to grab your face roughly, squeezing your cheeks to make your lips pucker up. “Oh, is that right? You need to know how I feel inside you? Or what, hm?” He challenges. “Ya gonna die without knowing.”

You nod, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. “I just might.”

He can't help but chuckle at that. “Yer cryin’, again? Yer tears don't work on me anymore, honey. They just egg me on. Love to see ‘em now. Know that I've got ya all desperate for me.”

“Don't care,” you mewl. “I want you inside me.”

He keeps up at it, gliding his cock between your folds and letting his shaft collect your juices. You're so fucking wet for him that all he wants to do is bury himself deep inside you and finish, but he practices what he preaches and holds himself back. “Is this how you are with all the men you sleep with? Such a whiny baby. Rumored to be the next number one hero, a crybaby for cock?”

He taunts and teases you, pushing out his bottom lip as he tuts. “It's almost cute.”

From all your whining and desperate begging, you don't realize that Bakugo’s now slotted the tip of his cock at your entrance. It's not until his head is inside and he's deep inside you that you fully register his intrusion, a loud sob coming from your lips as he stretches you out. But just as quick as you were shocked, moans slip easily from your mouth as you drag out just how you're feeling. 

Watching you—watching how your eyes are blazed with a fire that's filled with wanton lust. He's never seen it with everyone else and he quickly realized that you've gotten him under your spell and he's so deep in it that he doesn't want to retract. It's as though you're a succubus, a demon that feeds off of lust, with the way the corner of your lips turn upwards in a smile. Your hands come to wrap around his neck and Bakugo puts all his weight on you, causing him to go deeper in you. 

You feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix, pain mixing in with pleasure. Your back’s barely able to arch against the bed under Bakugo’s heavy weight, but your nails digging into the nape of his neck is enough to communicate just how you feel. As do your words.

“Ba— Katsuki, you feel so good,” that sudden shift from his last to his first name nearly has him cumming inside you too early. The creaking of the bed halts for a moment as his crimson red eyes look deep into yours. With his stillness, it makes you focus on the length that's against your walls, stretching you out. “Yeah, I think I prefer you calling me Katsuki better. Be a good girl and keep at it, will ya?”

It sounds like a request, but in this position, you know it’s a command. You don’t have a chance to respond, not that you were going to. He’s thrusting into you once more, but this pace is more brutal than before as he sits up and drills into your pussy without any remorse. He pushes down on your legs, making them ache as they press against your breast, making them more accentuated. Your moans become more high-pitched as you cry out his name— his first name. 

“That’s it,” he grins, maniacally. “Call my name out like the dirty little slut you are. Let my neighbors know who’s making you feel this good.”

One of your hands drag to cling to his bicep, making marks in a matter of seconds as your juices spill out of you. You’ve never had anyone else make you feel the way that Bakugo does. How he easily takes control and dominates you. With him, he lets you know that while you run the streets of Tokyo, Japan, you’ll always be underneath him. The stinging pain that runs through your lower body is delicious and while you know you’ll bear the consequences in the morning, you bask in the pleasure it secretes now. 

In this moment, you become delirious as your imagination becomes active as you can see a future with Bakugo, but is that what he wants? Hands back on his neck, you tug him down to you. “Katsuki… need you.”

“You’ve already got me, honey,” Bakugo kisses the corner of your lips, pace slowing by a pinch. “What more do you need?”

“Kiss me,” you whisper, eyes becoming glossy with wanton need. Something snaps within the both of you, a sudden shift that changes the trajectory of your relationship with him forever. Time stops for a moment before his lips are on you— lust turning into something more, something fatal. No longer is he pistoning inside you to oblivion, but holding you with more care. Precise thrusts that still get the work done to having you call out his name without a care in the world. 

He’s hitting that special spot inside of you, memorizing the sounds you make just for him. That familiar coil comes back and you bring Bakugo closer to you. “G’nna cum. Please make me cum, Katsuki.”

“Anything for you, honey.” He helps you ride out your orgasm, slowing down as he brings your legs to finally lay on the bed. Not too long after does he empty himself inside you, painting your insides white before pulling out completely. He makes eye contact with you. This. This is the perfect time, your mind tells you. 

Getting your breath steady, you peer up at him. “I never did thank you, y’know.”

“For what?” he grunts, sitting up on the bed, completely towering over you as you stay in place. Climbing over you, he’s reaching for something. Shortly after, he tosses you a water bottle that you catch with ease. 

“Just…” you sigh. “For everything.” 

—

FIVE MONTHS LATER 

Spiderweb has had such a spectacular come up. From working under retired pro-hero, Dynamite, as a sidekick to being endorsed into a hero. She’s climbed the roster faster than anyone else has and while she had her stumbling moments, she came back to kick butt and prove to Japan that she is the hero they need!

We’ve managed to get a video with the pro-hero themself about the announcement of her current hero ranking—” Shortly, they pull up separate footage of a next reporter before it shows you.

“Spiderweb, please tell us how it feels to currently be the number one hero of Japan!”

The camera pans to you, your eyes lighting up in delight. You’re panting heavily standing outside in the hot sun, evidently just finishing a case. You have to catch your breath before your attention is fully turned to the camera. “It feels… It feels unbelievable, y’know? I mean, I’ve heard the rumors about it, but for it to actually come true? It’s only been a couple years into becoming a pro-hero and it feels like it’s something I don’t deserve, but I know for sure that I’ve worked my ass off— sorry for the language, kids!

“I’m just really grateful,” you continue your rambling. “I’m really grateful for everyone who believed in me and put their faith in me, especially my old mentor, the man that endorsed me himself. Dynamite, if you’re watching this! I know I’ve already told you this already, but thank you! I couldn’t have gotten here without you. I love— I mean, I’m forever in your favor.”

It’s a Thursday night and he’s not at the bar this time. Instead, he’s at his place, getting ready to head to yours. He’s lucky he kept the television on to hear you say that. He’ll certainly tease you later for it, but now, a sense of pride washes over him.  “That’s my girl.”

[luxmainohno]

GF!jinx headcanons

A/n: i haven't posted forever here but arcane left me with a hole to fill so I wanted to come back and surround myself with ppl who like the things I do hahaha. Anyways if you like this plz like/reblog/share and feel free to send me some request for later! And happy Thanksgiving!

S2 arcane showed us that when Jinx is with someone she feels safe around she's very cool headed and rational. I'd assume she's the same around her partner

She has plenty of inside jokes with you, some you probably don't even know about and she definitely gets pouty when you don't get the joke.

Loves doodling you. They're bad and unflattering but they're drawn out of love and adoration

If she's a jinx you're the opposite.

She thinks you saved her and can fix or make better all her mistakes. She probably even is a little unhealthily attached to you

I love writing jinx bc she is just so mentally ill (me too) I really think jinx in a relationship is a study on its own!

At first i don't think she'd be too keen on physical intimacy and genuinely you'd have to initiate any touch.

In arcane the people she is physical with like hugging and closeness are silico and vi, touch is saved for her family. If she's touching you in anyway she means you're family.

So many random soft moments with her, she's genuinely not this manic awful person when she's left alone in a safe environment. She needs a safe environment to be herself, to be jinx and powder in one.

She loves private time between you two, its the only time she can take her time to be herself without any pressure, she's allowed to not think or worry about destroying something or someone

She's terrified of ever hurting you, so much so it'll be a genuine issue in the relationship. She's so scared of Jinxing this relationship, what if she makes you hate her? What if she accidently harms you or worse ?

You'd have to spend a lot of time reminding her she's not an awful person, and her existence isn't a burden. It will never be to you, you promise and she believes it. She holds on to it and to you.

Can be very paranoid about you. You're safety, loyalty, whatever it is she just has never had any sort of stability or constant, she will question everything, and you will have to be her rock

[rsventhesecondd]

insecurities , — Nagi Seishiro ! anon request :3

sypnosis whereas reader is feeling insecure about her body weight.

warnings . mentions of slight trauma, vulgar words, fluff, angst, nsfw, not proof read yet , all characters used are aged up. note ⧽ some parts may seem rushed or ooc in other peoples opinion. english isn't our first language, so please bare with oncoming vocabulary or grammatic mistakes. (๑°⌓°๑) authors note . the ending was kinda rushed, and sorry this was late. But hey, please enjoy reading !

You nervously stood on the scale, watching the numbers go up as your manager stood ahead of you. Your eyes widening slightly as the numbers went up from the usual limit. 

" Ms. [ last name ] , we've talked about this. Have you not been doing the... diet that we've told you to do? " She then said, stopping in the midst of the sentence to look at the scale, then to you.  

"I- " You stuttered to defend yourself , voice almost visibly breaking. You were embarrassed. Yes, you were nervous about checking your weight, yes you had doubts about your body; but there was a small glint that wanted you to atleast hope that you weren't doing anything wrong. 

" I think not. " Your manager said, raising a brow. " You will not be walking on the runway, and Miss Mikage will be taking your place " 

"But I worked hard for that position! I spent nights prac-" 

" You are dismissed. " Said your manager, cutting you off. 

You walk away in defeat, sadness washing all over you. You worked hard to be in this position, you've gotten rejected multiple times, cried over this multiple times, and the year you finally have gotten chosen to show the talent you've been working hard for— this is what you get? 

"She finally got woken up to reality." , 

"She thinks she's all better than us when the reason she got in here was because of her connections." , 

"I heard the only reason the company accepted her because she's the wife of a famous football player."

The people surrounding you murmured in a secretive tone, despite you hearing them loud and clear. 

Instead of lashing out your anger, you wouldn't want to risk your job even further. So you chose to be the 'bigger person' and walk away. 

You reached your house, opening the door as you found a pair of mens shoes placed hastily on the floor. You sigh, fixing them up as you took yours off and placed it beside neatly. 

You went to the sofa, not bothering to greet your now husband– Nagi since you were too stressed with all the things going on. 

I mean, you couldn't understand. Sure, you were the wife of a famous football player. But you worked hard for this position, you went through those interviews, questions, and so what if you were only accepted because of your 'connections' ? 

Is it so wrong that you eat like a normal human being? 

You DONT understand. Is this what you've been dreaming of? Is this the dream that you wanted so badly, is this the feeling of achieving the dream that you've worked your ass off? 

You started to overthink, you started to wonder— am I not enough? Is this what everyone thinks of me? Do I even deserve this life? Do I even deserve Na- 

"Baby?" A familiar voice questioned, his tone more of a hum. 

You know, Nagi really cares about his games. He'd choose to slump all day if he could. Actually, if you were to describe him– hell he'd probably care about nothing at all. 

But the moment he hears the front door creek, the sound of your shoes tapping as you place it  on the floor— even though your usual 'Nagi, I'm home' wasn't heard, he was sure it was you. 

His eyes perk up ever so slightly, still, he focused on his game; but this time, with the thought of you coming to greet him in his mind. He waited, and waited, but to no avail. And once he fully takes his headphones off, he hears– muffled sobs? 

Ah, that's it. It was your voice. But, why does it make him feel so.. so hurt? Getting up is a nuisance, greeting you is a nuisance, but what's this? The moment he opened the bedroom door to see your crying state, it was automatic. 

He walked towards you, sitting down the couch as he sees your heartbreaking state. "[Name] ? .." he asked, pausing– it was his first time seeing you like this. "Huh? What happened?" He said, reaching out his hand

As much as you wanted to bawl out crying into his arms, you couldn't shake the worried that echoed through your brain. "Go away." You retorted, voice almost breaking. 

'huh?' 

Was what Nagi thought at the moment. What'd he do wrong? Why are you being like this? Why are you acting like this? Why why why why? 

"I don't deserve you." You muttered out. 

"Huh? t're you talking about?" He said, in actual confusion — head tilting slightly to the side.

"I don't deserve you. Let's end this." You said, getting up.

Then a hand pulling you back down. 

"What are you—" 

Your eyes soften as he cuts you off with a kiss. 

You wish you could've resisted, but your body just reacted. The way his tongue slowly slid in your mouth, kissing you in that same lazy pattern. How could someone resist such thing?

"Ah, what a hassle." Nagi says, pulling away. 

" You don't have to console me if I'm such a hassle " You retort , looking away.  

"Mmm, you being sad is a hassle. I don't like it." He says, head snuggling to your chest. He stays silent for a quick second, thinking of a a way to have you feel better. "You can tell me what happened if you want, I don't think of it as a hassle when it comes to listening to you." 

Unknowingly once again, tears welled up your eyes from hearing his words. Do you really deserve someone like him? And when your tears stream, so did your feelings. You unconsciously let your mouth run about how shitty your boss was and your surroundings, how you felt, and everything else that bothered you. 

And there was Nagi. 

Nagi who would've fallen asleep if it were someone else speaking

Nagi who would've chosen to play his games and put on his headphones rather than to listen to some girl crying 

You know, ultimately — Nagi never thought he would be the type of person to really care. But when he saw you crying, talking about the things that bothered you; it bothered him too. 

Just as you thought he fell asleep listening your rants as you muttered 'what'd I expect' , you see him suddenly look up. "I'll tell reo to transfer you to a different company tomorrow.. but first, I need to remind you something, 'kay?"

He leans in once more, his lips lazily moving against yours as he almost effortlessly changed your positions, his slim hands holding your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

He suddenly stood up, a slight gasp leaving your lips as you felt him move. Nagi interrupts your attempt to speak once again with a following kiss as he made ilis way to your joint bedroom, carefully placing you down on the bed. 

He pulls away, finding you already unbottoning your blouse as he removes his shirt. And when you do take off your clothes, he stares at your body for a while— the thoughts of insecurity in your mind growing as you see his lips move to speak. 

" s' pretty.." He said, hands giving a quick run on your waist down your thighs as he spreads them. "Mm, I think you shouldn't listen to what they say. They haven't seen how pretty you are." 

Nagi added, his fingers slipping down your underwear as he puts two digits inside of you. You let out a strained moan, hand quickly covering your mouth as he  curled up his fingers, pushing them in and out swiftly. 

He takes your hand off your mouth, snuggling his face onto it slightly. " wanna hear you moan out my name " 

He says, removing his fingers as he pushes his tip against your entrance— then almost slamming it all in, causing you to jolt. "Sei—" You moan out, followed by another as he went on to steady his pace. 

"Need to remind you how perfect you are" He mumbled, lips on your neck as he leaves a mark, his free hand spreading your other thigh slightly further to angle his hips up to that spot. 

"Fuck. Y' feel so good." Nagi added, ramming into you continuously, his grip on your thigh. "Sei, 'm close!" You whimper out in response your head moving back as you gripped on the sheets. 

After a few final thrusts, you both reached your high as you lie restless. 

"I love you." You mumble out as Nagi basically collapses on you.

"Again."

"I love you."

"Again" 

"I love you."

And the cycle repeats until he falls asleep.

[eerna]

ab jinx's possible suicide (although i believe she's alive): I can't lie, i wasn't surprised at all. yes it feels shitty, yes it feels terrible. but by LoL Arcane archives (which riot DIDN'T release for everyone and i think that's fucking shitty bc i feel like some ppl didn't have access to that but it's very important Vi and Jinx), she unfortunately grew up creating this idea that dying and death aren't bad things. in Powder's diary she expresses how it feels weird to be killing all those ppl, how she didn't really get why would Silco kill them if killing is bad, and eventually she expresses how she can't see why ppl get sad and mad ab dying, because dying means going to a better place. for Jinx, dying is redemption. that's why breaking the cycle means killing herself, not as a bad thing, but as getting into a better place. which is tragic and terrible and fucking sad, but i can't say i didn't see it coming, i did.

but what i think it's worse ab that ending is that, if she doesn't kill herself and decides to live because she now sees she's not alone, that life is worth living, that she can get a good thing being alive, (and she's going away, there's this part of the theory) Ekko and Vi don't know she's alive. the people who want her the most, who love her the most, who didn't give up on her, don't know she's alive and can't reach her to then build a good life with her in some way. that's the part that pisses me off, because if you're not commiting to the tragedy of her death by her own hands because of her own ideas, you're also not giving a clear opportunity for the character to build a better phase. IT'S LIKE THE THING IS CUT IN HALF (both for her and for Vi) and I can't stress enough how that's pissing me off

Yeah, I think you are right :((((( I was an idealist dreaming of her finding a place with Zaunites... A few days back I was taking to a friend and she also pointed out that she knew Jinx was dying in the end simply because mentally ill characters who make that many mistakes AND stir civil unrest are never ever given an opportunity to be anything more than a tragedy. She is presented as too broken to be of any good to anyone, because her helping the people is not seen as something truly redeemable, the only thing that matters is the personal mistakes she made. Even in survival, she doesn't have the right to happiness. Oh I am tearing up a bit, it is very sad to think about, and very unfair. I can see the thematic resonance in her never speaking to Vi again but c'mon the entirety of Zaun was there to have her back, that must have counted for something

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

when you made a mistake of saying Rose isn’t straight on tiktok and now you have 250 people proving you she didn’t love Pearl:……..

you want to know something very ironic?

susan egan, the voice of rose quartz, brings up pearl + rose’s relationship every. chance. she can get. & she describes them as having a relationship! she brought them up in the recent livestream, she sang the rose with pearl’s va on youtube. so many people who work for steven universe have stated that the love between pearl and rose is mutual. voice actors and storyboard artists have portrayed the characters as being in a relationship. rebecca sugar even confirmed that they’re not unrequited. the people who made pearlrose, essentially, either ship them or at the very least see their dynamic as being one that involves mutual feelings that go beyond platonic.

“i don’t know if i would call it unrequited!” — rebecca sugar interrupting an interviewer who describes pearl + rose as unrequited

“if it’s not, then i’ve misunderstood the whole thing!” — storyboarder raven molisee, also responsible for rose’s scabbard, when asked if the relationship between pearl + rose is romantic.

“i LOVE these two so i was absolutely ecstatic to draw this scene. i remember being really pressed to pack all of their passion and pearl’s smugness into one moment that lasts the length of a guitar solo… and their fusion that’s just an embodiment of that into one giant, shamelessly beautiful dancer!” — katie mitroff about fusion in we need to talk

rose quartz is my comfort character & even that is an understatement. she’s so much like me and she’s so meaningful, and i wish that more of the fandom could see this.

the way that her character is perceived really reflects some of the issues that we see in real life as well.

she’s amazing for understanding mental illness & trauma and that responses to pain are not always pretty. things are complicated & so are people. some people in the steven universe fandom want to oversimplify things by often making her a heartless villain. on the other hand, i feel like some rose fans act like she’s done nothing wrong or they like to downplay her issues and mental health struggles. not necessarily here, but elsewhere. some people hate the idea that rose’s decision to give up her physical form was self destructive, but it absolutely was. she’s not a villain but she is a cautionary tale. she has a big heart but she’s absolutely flawed. she never wanted to hurt anyone, but she did.

she’s amazing for body positivity in ways that go beyond simple things like appearance, but people are… so weird about it sometimes. i still remember being twelve years old & reading comments about how rose was “pretending to be fat” the whole time after the pink diamond reveal. that was… really upsetting to read! six years later, i’m trying to help folks understand that this is not the case. there’s so much more depth and detail and comfort, really, than those silly reddit jokes and fandom hostility.

… and she’s amazing for sapphic representation. she’s canonically m-spec but the fandom can be so, so weird about that. as a bisexual girl myself, it bothers me so much that we need to convince so many people that she loved pearl while pretty much everyone validates her relationship with a man. not only validates… they see it as perfect and better and i don’t usually see people talk about the many flaws of that relationship. yes, pearl + rose’s relationship was flawed too. rose has a pattern of unstable relationships! but people can be codependent and genuinely in love at the same time. they can be in bad situations but they can still be… genuinely in love. & pearl and rose’s relationship is not less valid because people perceive their relationship as… more flawed than the other relationship (mainly because lots of people don’t think about the other relationship’s issues)

the biggest misconception of pearl and rose’s relationship is that their love wasn’t real

the biggest misconception of rose and greg’s relationship is that they got married

that’s very interesting to me.

if rose isn’t seen as a straight up villain, i find that lots of the fandom puts so much importance on two things: having a relationship with a man, and being a mother. & as a girl who relates to her, i think there’s so much more to her character and i’ll stop there because i have an entire thing i wrote about rose & the fandom here! /np/nf

i’m sorry about the fandom, anon. i’d go on tiktok and defend you but i don’t have a tiktok account because of my adhd (racing thoughts + a bunch of videos about different things at once = not my favourite app). you’re absolutely right and i wish more people understood that.

[void-ink-studios]

Rinse and Spit [Part 6] - A Mouthwashing AU

FINALLY, this chapter is written. Enjoy it y'all, there will be More Development next time.

The dynamics shift on the Tulpar as the crew carries on without a certain shadow. But where does Curly stand in these new dynamics?

And why can't he shake the feeling he's one mistake away from being next?

Content Warning:

PTSD episode is depicted

Word Count: 2,400

Anya had left after tending to his new injuries.  Curly almost found it funny that, by some cursed miracle, he could possibly get more hurt than he already was.

Presumably, she left to speak with Swansea and Daisuke.  That had been a long time ago.  He could hear, even through the heavy metal doors, that they were yelling.  Swansea raising his voice, Anya raising her voice, even Daisuke.

He knew what they were arguing about.

One Captain laid dead.  It was time to decide what happened to the other.

Curly had weighed in his head his chances.  Daisuke seemed to still like him, at the very least.  That’s one vote in his favor.  Swansea, on the other hand, didn’t seem like he’d spit on him if he was on fire.  That’s one vote against him.

That only left Anya.

Anya.  Who he utterly failed every chance he had to be a good leader for.  Who he abandoned to go save her attacker’s hide over protecting her.

He didn’t see the next few hours panning out well for him.

Take responsibility

So all he could do was wait.

And all the while, Jimmy was laying there.  A pool of blood had settled under his head and neck.  The entire room smelled metallic, with the stink of mouthwash mixing unpleasantly with it all.

It was at least easy for Curly to not look at him.  He’d learned to do that very well, not looking at Jimmy.

Instead, he could focus on what he was feeling.  The image of the scalpel so close to his eye burned into his mind.  The feeling of the saw’s teeth in his leg still radiated through his entire body.  The burn of vomit still sat sticky in his throat and mouth.

Maybe he should stop focusing on what he’s feeling.

He couldn’t look at the screen anymore.  He couldn’t listen to its buzzing anymore.

And yet, that’s all he could do.

That’s all he deserved to do.

When had this all gone so wrong?

Was Jimmy always a monster?  Curly didn’t know.  He knew that Anya and Jimmy’s relationship had started to fall apart, even before this hell of a voyage.  He had thought they were just arguing.

“There’s better nurses, you know.”

Jimmy played with the lighter in his hands, flicking it on and off, letting the lid make its little clicking sounds as he stared down at the floor.

“Excuse me,” Curly asked, looking up from the clipboard.  Jimmy had been silent for the entire inspection of the cockpit.  That was okay.  Curly had been doing this for years, he knew what to look for without his help.

“I’m just saying.  There’s gotta be better nurses working for Pony Express, right?  Ones who actually made it into medical school?  I mean, fuck, even school nurses need a degree, don’t they?  How come you don’t request one of those?”

Curly shrugged.  “I mean… It’s Pony.  I don’t think anyone with that much school debt is gonna be working in a dump like this, yeah?”

Curly tried to laugh.  Jimmy didn’t.  Curly clicked the pen uncomfortably.

“Plus, Pony offers medical school courses.  Don’t need a degree if they’re teaching you what you need themselves right?  That’s how you’re a pilot.”

Curly regretted it the second it left his mouth.

“Yeah.  I get it.  I owe it all to you.  Consider me fucking thankful.”

He didn’t look at Jimmy, but he could feel the glare burning into his head.  “...Sorry.  But, why bring this up anyway?  I like Anya.”

Jimmy didn’t respond, just huffed and leaned as far back as he could in his pilot’s seat.  Curly heard the click of the lighter, and Jimmy take a dragging breath.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“You know there’s no smoking on Pony property.  I’ve told you that a million times now.  It’s my ass they chew for that, you know.”

“You and Pony can bite me.”

Curly sighed, running a hand down his face.

“Look.  I’m sorry for what I said.  My point was Pony gives people chances.  It gave you a chance, and you like being a pilot, right?  So, it’s fair Anya’s got a chance too.  And she’s a damn good nurse.”

Curly finally looked at Jimmy.  He was never really good at reading the man’s expressions.

“I guess.”  Jimmy finally cracked a little bit of a smile.  “I do like being in control for once in my life.”

Curly turned that memory over in his head a lot.  That had to have been a hint.  He should have pushed more.  Should have questioned it more.  It was so obvious.  A red flag he missed.  One of many…

Even lifeless, Curly could feel Jimmy’s gaze burning him.

At least Curly wasn’t alone anymore.

He finally brought himself to look at Jimmy.  The color had completely drained from his face.  His eyes were unseeing, staring at nothing, yet everything at the same time.

He didn’t know how long he sat there until the door opened again.

He couldn’t look.  He wondered how they’d do it.  The ax?  The gun?  Something else?  He didn’t know.  But maybe a selfish part of him is at least glad it’ll all be over soon.

I hope this hurts

“...You got lucky.”

That was Swansea.  There was a sound of a thud, and something dragging over the metal floor.  He finally turned his head to watch Swansea drag Jimmy’s body away.  The older man didn’t look the Captain in the eye.

“Very lucky.”

Curly watched as Swansea dragged the former pilot away, Anya entering soon after.  That’s odd… She already took care of his injuries, didn’t she?  She looked tired.  And sad.

Anya looked at him.  For a very long time.  He looked away.

“...Try to get some sleep, Captain.”

She reached behind Curly’s head, fluffing up the pillow a little before she took her old seat next to him.

Curly didn’t move.  He didn’t look at her.  He tried to breathe as quietly as possible.  Because… Well, if he moved, it might break whatever spell has come over the Med Bay.

Anya was back…

The days carried on like that.  Anya was back at his side.  She wasn’t as chatty with him as she was at the beginning but… She seemed at ease.

You know why.

She carried on with her duties.  She changed Curly’s bandages, cleaned him, and brought him more IV calories… Curly didn’t know how she’d managed that, he had zero faith that Pony would have packed something that helpful. She had something about that, long ago.  Something about how Swansea rigged the fabricator.

She even started chatting with him again.  Just a little bit.  But it was something.  Something to listen to that made Curly feel like he wasn’t just a pile of raw meat on the table.

She even became the one to give him his pain killers.

When she first approached him with a pill bottle, Curly hated how much he flinched.  Anya just looked at him, her eyes full of sadness and regret.

“It’s… It’s okay now, Captain.  I can manage this.”

She was far more gentle in giving him the pills than Jimmy was.  She sat him up, she eased his mouth open, she was careful and delicate with her fingers.  She even gave him a glass of water to help it down.

Curly trusted her.  He knew he shouldn’t, knew he didn’t deserve to feel at ease around her, but he did.  She very easily could have made this all more painful than it needed to be, and she’d have the right.

But she never did.

She set him back down as gently as she lifted him up.  Yet Curly still felt ghosts of hands on his neck.  Of fingers probing the back of his throat.  Of nails digging under his bandages.  He watched her for movement.  For signs of vengeance.

But nothing ever came of his watching.

She read her books quietly.  Listened to her music and smiled.  She laughed when Daisuke poked his head into the Med Bay.  She didn’t tense up whenever the door opened anymore.  She looked happier than even before the crash.

Take responsibility

He wished he could feel as at ease as she seemed to.  Curly heard the metal doors slide open, a familiar, gruff voice filling him with dread.

“Anya, please, take some time to rest.”

“Swansea-”  Curly could see Anya standing a bit behind him.  She looked worried.  She was wringing her hands together, her gaze flicking between the older man and the captain.

“I promise.  You know I’m good for it.”  Swansea had his back to Curly.  He wished he could see the expressions on his face.  Or, maybe it was better he didn’t.

She held eye contact with Curly for a very long time before she finally nodded.

“...Okay.”

The door closed again, Swansea taking a deep breath, before finally turning around.

The two men stared at each other for a long time.  Curly was certain he could hear his own heart beat picking up speed.

“...Anya needs sleep.  You need meds.  I’m filling in for her.”

Please no…

Curly watched as Swansea strolled over to the desk with the pain killers.  He looked at the bottle intensely.

“Paracetamol?  This shit is for fevers.  Joint aches.  You can’t be getting much from this, can you?”

Curly waited a few moments.  For what, he wasn’t sure.  Maybe for him to dump the few painkillers he had down the drain.  Or maybe for him to threaten him.

But it didn’t happen.

“Whatever helps, I guess.  That’s what Anya said.”

Swansea turned back around, a pill in his hand.  His expression looked generally bored.  Maybe annoyed.

I hope this hurts

Curly couldn’t help but start to shake.

Swansea hated him.  Granted, for a good reason.  But Swansea hated him, and was now approaching him with a pill.

“You’re real lucky Anya has a soft spot for you right now.”  He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his free hand.  “You got us into this fucking mess.  And now we’re taking care of you.  Isn’t it the Captain’s job to take care of the crew?”

I hope this hurts

Swansea was standing over Curly now.

Curly knew what Swansea looked like.  He’d been looking at that tired face for almost 8 years.  He knew what he looked like.  He knew his receding hairline, his full face and thick neck, his pot belly and stocky limbs.

So why did his hair suddenly look longer?  Why did his face and limbs suddenly look thinner?

“Whatever.”

Why did his eyes look so empty?

“I hope these make you fucking feel better.”

I hope this hurts

Jimmy was standing over him.  He was smiling his empty smile and standing over him, reaching towards him.  Of course.  Of course Anya killing him had to be a dream.  He couldn’t escape it that easily.

He couldn’t dodge responsibility that easily.

Take responsibility.

There were hands on him.  A voice talking to him.

No, no, please no…

He flailed his limbs.  It wouldn’t help, it never did, it only ever made things worse, but he had to do something.  He couldn’t go back to this nightmare.  No matter how much he deserved it.  No matter how much he knew Anya’s gentleness was too good for him.  He couldn’t go back.

“...urly!  Curly!  Stop!”

Suddenly he was being held.  Tightly.  A hug?  Anya?

He could smell something metallic, something like oil and sweat.

Swansea…

Curly froze in Swansea’s grip.  The man was hugging him.  Or maybe he was trying to hold him together.

“Are you done?”

Curly couldn’t see his face.  And he wasn’t about to lift his head to check.

“Stop fucking staring at me.”

He couldn’t place the tone in Swansea’s voice.  He wasn’t sure when he got so bad at reading people.  Then he felt the ghosts of hands on his throat.  Maybe he was never good at reading people.

The captain then realized he was asked a question.

Answer the question, you won’t be hit as hard.

Curly nodded, his body still slightly shaking.

Swansea’s grip gently released, an arm moving to support his back to keep him sitting up.  The engineer seemed to be feeling for something.  His fingers traced along his side, feeling his ribs through the hospital gown.

“Jesus…”

Curly didn’t know if he was meant to respond to him.  He usually had to guess with Jimmy, but he at least knew what to expect from Jimmy.

He didn’t know what Swansea would have in store.

Gently, although not as gently as Anya, Swansea tilted Curly’s head back and opened his mouth.  The captain couldn’t help but flinch again.

“Hey.  Curls.  Look at me.”

Curly shook his head.

“Can you look at me?”

Take responsibility

Curly slowly turned his eye to finally look at Swansea.  The man’s expression was harsh but… something seemed tempered.  Softer than before.  Frustrated, maybe conflicted.

“Look, I don’t know what he did to you.  Fucked up shit, probably, if you were freaking out that badly.  But I’m not him.  Yeah, I’m pissed at you.  But I’m not going to hurt you.”

Curly still didn’t move.  The two looked at each other for a long time.

“Can I give you your medicine now?  It’s probably not doing too much, but hey.  It’s something, right?”

The captain waited for Swansea to move.  Get angry.  Say something about how ungrateful he’s being.  To do… Something. 

“Gotta give me a nod, bub.”

Curly hesitated another moment before nodding.  Swansea sighed, nodding back.  He tilted the captain’s head back, gently feeding the pill down his throat, and helping it down with some water.  Swansea wasn’t as delicate as Anya.  But it was probably due more to his broad and callused fingers than… malice.

Swansea set him back down softly, making sure his head reached the pillow.

“Goodnight.  Get some sleep.  Daisuke’s been working on something for you.  Won’t tell me what it is, but says it’s going to be ‘super important.’  Whatever that means.  So… I guess be ready for that.”

Curly was only half listening.  A part of him was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.  For Swansea to say that one last thing to make sure he remembered his place in the pecking order.

But he didn’t.

“...Jimmy’s not here anymore.  You can relax a little.”

And he left.

Curly listened to the static buzz for a long time.  He felt tears stinging the side of his face long before he realized he was crying.

He swallowed the sobs down, even though it hurt his chest.  He clamped his mouth as closed as he could manage, until his teeth hurt.

He had only just gotten this small blessing of peace.

He was not going to ruin it by bothering them anymore.

[risingsoleil]

Man, I can’t stop thinking about this ask you got a few days ago about Lin having a daughter that looks like Suyin and how much angst potential it has!

Little-suyin look-alike thinking her mom doesn’t love her, or at best love her least out of her siblings, because of potential bonding issues!

Lin and Su Look-Alike getting into a heated argument about something and in the heat of the moment Lin accidentally calls her daughter Suyin!

Lin and Su Look-Alike having a great time together and it makes Lin reminisce about happier times with her baby sister before their relationship fell apart

So many juicy scenarios to play with, I love it!

Yes, so much angst potential if Lin had a Su-twin kid

If we're gonna go angsty on this one, her daughter feels like Lin doesn't love her. It just feels like no matter how hard she tries to connect with Lin, there's something blocking that.

Her mom can't get into dancing too much

Her mom hasn't trusted her even though her daughter has proven to be extremely responsible

After that argument she has with Lin, she sits in her room and looks at all her things with tears in her eyes.

"I don't belong here..."

And so she makes her decision that night.

She doesn't take much with her and almost startles Oogi awake. Su-twin is an airbender (no tattoos yet) and has her own sky bison to slip away.

The next morning, Tenzin finds her letter and wakes up Lin at the crack of dawn.

"Lin, you need to wake up. Right now! She's gone!"

She's still sleepy. "What are you talking about?"

"She ran away."

Lin snatches the letter from him, not believing a single word he's said.

By the time you read this, I won't be in Republic City anymore. Please don't follow me or try to find me. I'll manage. I've finally learned that I simply don't belong in the family. I'm finally giving you your happiness. A life without me. I tried. I really did. I'm sorry for being a burden. For being a mistake. For being everything you never wanted. It's better if I'm gone. Life without me is better, and now I understand that. Goodbye.

Lin has tears streaming down her face, and she wastes no time trying to go after her daughter and figure out where she went.

Hours become days.

Days turn into weeks.

Weeks have become one month.

Lin is worried sick about her daughter. She's trying hard not to think about the worst possible scenario - death. As a mother, she would feel if something happened to her child. But her emotions are chaotically everywhere, perhaps she's overlooked her own intuition to hold onto a delusional hope.

Lin sent out a message across all nations to share to her daughter, and she hopes that she can hear the message.

"Please come back to me. I'm sorry. I love you."

[lost-inthemeadow]

Till I have no choice but to do us part - Agathario

Summary: A 4 part rewrite of episode 9 of Agatha All Along because we deserved so much better than what we got

Features Agatha Harkness and Rio Vidal

Chapter one: I stray not from the path, I hold Death's hand in mine

Word count: 2691

Alone in the woods, accompanied only by the corpses of the women who were once her family, Agatha Harkness trembled in the cold of the night.

After her coven had attempted to execute her—having nowhere else to go—she settled down under a tree by the river and tried her best for her sobs not to be too loud, afraid of any nearby animals hearing her.

She was supposed to be dead, gone, forgotten; her power—the one her coven was so scared of—had once again made her the villain. It was not her fault nobody ever bothered to teach her how to control it. From the moment she was born, her mother had been convinced that her existence was a mistake, a sin; all she knew she learned by herself, relying on books and ancient spells.

Now she was all alone, without a coven or anyone to care for her, and it was nobody's fault but her own. Still, under all the guilt, Agatha could not stop thinking about how good the other witches' magic had felt and how unsatiable her need for more was, being now more powerful than she ever had. It was a feeling that terrified her tremendously, but with the recent events, she swore not to let herself near another witch again.

As the sun rose once more, painting her dress with its yellow light, a nearby bush alerted her that she was no longer alone in the vast woods. Agatha sat down immediately, dreading the idea of fighting a wild animal, but instead, she saw a human figure emerge from the receding darkness. As the person approached, the sunlight lit them more and more, first revealing a long and beautiful green dress, then a pair of delicate hands, and then a face. The young witch had to shake her head, for the first thing she saw was a mere skull, but as she looked again and her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she found herself admiring a beautiful lady, with eyes as bright as the moon that looked at her lit with curiosity.

Lady Death herself—the mysterious figure—was hesitant at first, not wanting to scare the young woman away. But there was a certain pull, a certain need in her chest that urged her to get close and investigate why this young witch was alone in the woods, surrounded by so many corpses.

"Hello, little one." Death spoke her first words directed at someone who still breathed in decades. Her voice was soft, and her lips curved into a smile. "Say, what reason could you have to be alone in these woods at this early hour?"

“I could ask you the same."

"I've come for them, of course," she said, glancing at Agatha's breathless companions.

"For them?"

“It's my job to take them to the other side," Lady Death concluded. "Are you responsible for this mess?"

Agatha nodded, unable to look the woman in the eye as she did, ashamed of her actions.

"I like it. It suits you," she said with a complicit smile. Agatha couldn't help but look back at her, expecting everything but the answer she had received.

Lady Death had lost her heartbeat centuries ago—when the duty of death was bestowed upon her—but the moment she saw Agatha's big blue eyes staring at her, the faint feeling of the blood-pumping vessel appeared in her chest again, making it impossible for her to stay any longer.

As Death walked towards the shadows again, ready to collect the souls of the coven, Agatha stood up, quickly cleaning the dirt off her dress.

"Wait!" she called out.

"Yes?" Lady Death stopped for her.

"Will I see you again?" Agatha also felt that same pull in her chest.

"Eventually, everyone will," was the last thing Death said before disappearing into the last bit of night.

After tending to the corpses, Agatha moved deeper into the forest, for the leaves and the dirt were now her home. Try as hard as she did, she could not stray too far from the clearing where she had met Lady Death, afraid she would miss her when she returned.

But a week went by, and she found herself alone every night, sitting under the same tree by the river, waiting for the bushes to alert her of the enchanting presence again. She understood then that Death would only come if she were needed.

Initially, she tried with a decaying owl she found while scavenging, but quickly realized the victim had to be freshly dead, so the next night she offered a skunk she had extinguished that afternoon. Both nights she perked up her ears and squinted her eyes, waiting for the figure to emerge from the bushes, but, once again, she never did.

That's when the young witch finally understood that, if she wanted to see Lady Death a second time, she'd have to offer a human for her to take. The idea brought chills down her spine, but still, she made her way to the nearest settlement and found herself a victim. A simple potion was all she needed, having lured the man to the forest with her beauty.

Under the tree, as the river sang its usual song—with the stiff corpse waiting—Agatha waited impatiently, almost wanting to scream to the moon to call Lady Death to her. It was not until the sun started its trip in the sky that the bushes again rustled, making Agatha shake like the cold of the night never had.

Lady Death was intrigued, wondering what kind of impossible favor the young witch would ask of her, so she approached again. "Is this for me?" she asked, pointing at the dead man.

"Yes. You are Death, are you not?".

"I am. What is it you wish in exchange for this gesture?" she asked.

"Only to see you, m'lady."

"To see me?"

"I figured you needed the company as much as I do."

Lady Death smiled faintly, getting even closer to Agatha. "Speak your name, girl," she ordered.

"Agatha. Agatha Harkness."

"Well, Agatha, I thank you for this offering," she said, removing her hands from her dark green cape. Lady Death offered an empty hand, from which sprouted a beautiful Bearded Iris. "Can I?" she asked, and when Agatha nodded, Death's gentle hands placed the blossom in her hair.

"You are a witch, too!" squealed the young woman.

Seeing Agatha's bright smile warmed Lady Death's newly placed heart, so she made a bed of flowers for her, filled with astounding shapes and colors. They sat down together as Death told the young witch about each and every kind—having never had the chance to discuss her love for them before—until the sun tinted the whole forest alight. By then, her neverending task called for her again, and she disappeared into the bushes like she had that first night. This time, Agatha did not dare to ask if they would meet again, for she would make sure they would.

Every day she would slip into the town at dusk, determined to find a new gift for Death. First, it was the man who dared put his hands on his wife, the woman who tried to poison her daughter, and the two siblings who benefited from the poor's ingenuity. But then she took the old lady who sat alone in her house, the town's widow, and the farmer with only his crops to keep him company. With each kill, Agatha became increasingly enchanted with the art of taking lives, and her daily hunts became not only a treat for Death, but for her as well. Every night Lady Death would come to collect her gifts—each time earlier than the one before—and they would spend their time together laying in a freshly made bed of flowers by the river, where they would talk each other's ears off for hours. They bonded over their wrongdoings and deepest desires, enjoying the opportunity to be fully themselves in each other's company. Agatha told her all about her coven, her awful mother, and that surprisingly good feeling she got every time she claimed a life. Death would talk about her victims, the way she enjoyed staying for a little while when a widow wailed at the corpse of her husband, and the flowers she loved creating.

Lady Death grew fond of Agatha's curiosity, tending her queries with detail and care. She adored looking at the stars while letting the young witch into her secrets, appreciating the attentiveness she was given in return.

"Do you take animals?"

"They don't need it. Only humans have trouble crossing."

"Can you bring people back to life?"

"No. My job is the exact opposite."

"But you can create life," said Agatha, signalling at the flowers around them.

"I can, but only for you," Death replied, causing Agatha's cheeks to burn.

It was not until seven sunsets later that Agatha had been brave enough to ask for Lady Death's name.

"I don't suppose I was ever given one," replied the green witch with a furrowed brow.

"Whatever do you mean? Everyone has a name!"

"I must be the exception. I've had many nicknames, but never a name of my own."

"Well, we cannot allow that to be."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Why, we find you a name, of course."

And so she did. Agatha named her companion after the river that sang its symphony for them every night. From that moment on, Lady Death was not defined only by her duty. She was now Rio Vidal. She was someone. She belonged to someone.

That night, after Agatha made the name official by carving their initials in the tree they both so loved, Rio decided it was time to show herself, to reveal the form she feared Agatha would despise. Lit by only the moonlight, the skull Agatha thought was just her eyes tricking her that first night was in front of her again. Even without skin or muscle, the young witch could see Rio was nervous, so she took the time to trace every bit of bone with her fingers with the utmost care, offering a bright smile.

"Beautiful," Agatha said, taking Rio's face into both hands. Rio went back to her human form just in time for Agatha to join their lips together in a kiss that felt a thousand times better than taking a life ever would. The river beside their flower bed sang its song as they both gave in to each other, and the forest became the first witness of the time Death fell in love with a mortal.

Though the corpses were no longer needed, Agatha still took a life for her lover each day. Eventually, she had to move to a different settlement to find her victims, for her usual one had run dry. And find new victims she did, as a coven of seven witches dwelled near the next settlement she wanted to torment. She remembered her promise not to get near another sister in the craft again but was still overjoyed when she told Rio how the screams of the youngest member filled the air of the autumn afternoon as she took her power for herself.

“Does power feel as good as it looks on you, my love?" asked Rio, running her finger up and down Agatha's bare arm.

"It feels amazing," replied Agatha, her eyes closed as she enjoyed her lover's touch.

"Tell me more about this coven you found. Do they know it was you that took their sister?"

"They do not. She had been sent to gather in the forest, they did not see me take her."

"In that case, we will take their power for you, tomorrow after dawn."

"Will you stay the whole night this time?" asked the young witch, hope mixed with moonlight lighting her eyes.

"Not only this time. My duty is important, but I have no home besides your arms."

"We will have each other. We will be okay," replied Agatha.

The following morning—hands joined—they made the trek down their beloved river—stopping every few minutes so Agatha could pick the flowers Rio grew for her—until they found the witches' encampment. Before splitting up, Rio put all the blossoms together in a beautiful crown that Agatha made sure to wear, then she watched as her lover ran to the other witches—panting and huffing—to start with her deceivement. As the witches inquired about the reason for her troubled state, she apprised them about her coven having been murdered right in front of her eyes by a horde of angry townspeople, and her miraculous escape. The fellow craft practitioners clothed and fed her, offering her all their empathy and comfort.

Rio appeared after Agatha finished her broth, bony form deployed, and all the witches fell to their knees at the sight of her. They dared not look into her eyes and instead rested their foreheads on the dirt, so Agatha followed their lead.

"Fear not, for I have come not to take, but to notify," Rio announced. "Your youngest sister, with hair like corn and skin like syrup, is now with me. Her fret for her coven was so strong that I had no alternative but to come and bear the news to you."

She allowed them a few seconds of shock before she attempted to leave.

"Oh, almighty lady," called the eldest member, not daring to remove her face from the soil. "Is there anything we can offer in exchange for her life? Is there any deal you will take to bring our sister back where she belongs?"

"What is done is done. She is now mine," stated Rio.

"Please, ma'am. We will do anything."

"Look at me," Rio ordered, and all six witches obeyed. "The only way to bring your sister back is to trade her life for another. The balance must be maintained," she stated, her head tilted slightly.

The ruse worked perfectly, for all six of them took only a few seconds of exchanged looks before deciding that the life of the new, stray witch that had only just arrived mattered the least among them, and they all blasted Agatha simultaneously. The young witch received their magic with open arms, ensuring to take every last bit of it.

As their bodies decayed and their magic was drained, Rio's cackle filled the forest, enjoying the view as much as Agatha enjoyed the magic. "Yes, my love! Take it all!" she screamed with a malicious grin.

When Agatha's knees gave out, weak from the blast, Rio was there to catch her. The young witch's hands trembled, but her lips were curved in the biggest smile.

"How did you like that?" asked Agatha.

"I've never seen anything better," Rio replied, lost in the trance of her lover's beauty.

"Take care of this mess," Agatha ordered. Rio obeyed instantly, leaving to guide the witches to the other side.

From then on, Agatha and Rio spent their days hunting for witches to trick, finding new ways to give in to their lust, and loving each other like no other couple in history ever had. It was not every day they were together, for Rio's duty called for her every few days, but they cherished and made use of every second in which they were.

When autumn came to an end and the weather started to cool—despite witches usually living in open settlements—Rio grew the biggest willows, and with them, shaping them to her will, she built a crooked cabin for the two to spend the winter in. However, when the snow melted and spring came, they could not part from it. Death and love danced in harmony as they turned the place into their home, making it a sanctuary for all things they held dear. Unable to rip herself from her lover's embrace, Rio stayed longer each time, even if it meant more days absent, and she gifted Agatha the most beautiful garden to tend to while she was away.

[maddiethedogstories]

The Baby Doctor

Reposting this because it seems to have disappeared from this blog for some reason! Enjoy!

This wasn't supposed to happen! She was never supposed to be here. She was a smart, intelligent, capable woman. She had graduated from medical school for God's sake. But, she had pissed off the wrong nurse. Now, here she was, helplessly her diapers for the entertainment of the whole labor and delivery night shift.

It has been the third week of Dr. Bun's residency. She was on the tail end of a horrendous on-call shift. She was working through her charts and, in her delirium, got sloppy in her attention to detail. She accidentally ordered that one of her patients should be given a deadly amount of pain killers to deal with post-delivery pain.

Luckily for her patient, the doctor supervising the young doctor did not trust her yet. He caught her mistake, fixed it, then tracked down Dr. Bun to give her some aggressive constructive criticism. That's where Dr. Bun fucked up.

Rather then owning her mistake and promising to do better, Dr. Bun deflected the blame onto the nursing staff. Specifically, she alleged the nurse treating the patient, Nurse Angela, must have got in the system and messed up the order. Dr. Bun's supervisor was skeptical, but chose to trust his newest charge. He let the resident off with a warning and went to give the nurse a piece of his mind.

Unfortunately for Dr. Bun, the software the hospital used to treat patients kept careful record of precisely who made what orders. Fortunately for the girl, however, her supervisor had no idea that software has that capability. Nurse Angela, in the other hand, was very aware of it.

A couple of days later, when Dr. Bun was back in the hospital changing into her scrubs for the shift, Nurse Angela walked into the room holding two things--a print out from the record keeping software pinning the deadly medication order on Dr. Bun and a bulky, white adult diaper.

"Dr. Bun, I have a bone to pick with you. You pinned a potentially deadly mistake on me when, both you and I know I had nothing to do with it," Nurse Angela said. "That sort of dishonest, manipulative behavior is something I'd expect from a naughty toddler, not a doctor."

Dr. Bun began to feel upset at being challenged so directly by a person she considered beneath her.

"I didn't lie! You must have screwed up my orders, nurse," Dr. Bun, spitting out the word nurse as if it was the worst epithet imaginable.

Nurse Angela just calming walked up to the young, arrogant doctor and handed her the print out of the record confirming Dr. Bun's mistake.

"That is not what this says. Did you know dishonesty is a fireable offense at this hospital? One that the hospital reports to the medical board as well as any future employers?" Nurse Angela asked rhetorically. The older nurse smiled as the young woman's face dropped.

"I… uh… I'm so sorry! I'll do anything to make this up to you! Anything, just, please, don't tell anyone!" The resident pleaded.

The nurse's grin widened, becoming predatory. She motioned with the white, fluffy object in her other hand.

"Well, like I said Doctor, you've been acting more like a toddler than the responsible adult you are supposed to be. I think you need a reminder of that at all times from now on. Until I decide otherwise, if you want to keep your job here, you will wear and use one of these at all times when you are at work. The hospital's bathrooms are off limits to you, and, like the naughty toddler you are, you are not allowed to change yourself. If you want your wet or messy butt changed, you will have to track down one of the nurses in my labor and delivery unit and convince them to change you, understood?"

The young woman had no idea how to respond to that. Her eyes darted between the document in her hand and the bulky adult diaper being held by the nurse. Thoughts of being fired and her career being ruined darted through her head. She couldn't afford to pay back her student loans if she wasn't working as a doctor.

Backed into a corner, Dr. Bun did the only thing she could. She accepted Nurse Angela's offer.

Dr. Bun immediately found herself changed into the first of what would be many diapers by the nurse in the locker room. The next few weeks were full of humiliation and torment for the doctor as she adjusted to her knew position as the nursing units pet toddler, but, eventually her work days fell into a comfortable pattern.

She would use the restroom just prior to leaving work to minimize the risk of messy 'accidents.' She'd report to work where one of the nurses would help her get dressed for her shift. Then, she would proceed with her day as normal, seeking out a nurse for a change when she felt her diaper get too full.

Yes, it was humiliating to have the waistband of her scrubs pulled back or her crotch squeezed by another woman to have her diaper checked. Yes, it sucked laying on a locker room bench while her ass was wiped by someone she considered her subordinate. However, the human mind was resilient and could get used to anything once it happened enough.

Plus, her new situation has some benefits. She was getting praised by her supervisors for how well she worked with the nursing staff. Plus, not having to run to the bathroom all the time gave her more freedom to care for her patients. After a month as the hospital's diapered doctor, Dr. Bun would actually describe things as going well.

Nurse Angela was happy to see Dr. Bun's turn around, but noticed she was starting to get cocky again. The positive reviews from her supervisors lead her to once again become increasingly condescending towards the nursing staff. So, to remind the young doctor of her position, the nurse made Dr. Bun another offer she couldn't refuse.

That's how the young, professional woman with a medical degree found herself here. Nurse Angela has thrown a special, team building party at her home for all of her fellow labor and delivery nurses. The young doctor was also invited as entertainment.

When Dr. Bun arrived, she was stripped of her adult clothes. She was diapered, put in an childish shirt with padded mittens, and had a pacifier slipped in her mouth. She was instructed she was nothing more than a baby for the evening, not allowed to speak, walk, or care for herself in anyway. Worst of all, a suppository was shoved up her cute little bottom.

A baby blanket was laid in the middle of Nurse Angela's living room and she was instructed to stay on it. As her co-workers arrived and began to surround her, cooing at her like she was an actual baby, the babified doctor's stomach began to rumble and cramp. Once the last guest arrived, she couldn't take it anymore. Tears of embarrassment running down her face, Dr. Bun got onto all fours, sticking her diapered ass into the air as a wet fart escaped her butt cheeks.

Nurse Angela looked down and smiled. She drew everyone's attention to the scene. "Look everyone, I think the baby's about to make a stinky for us!"

Dr. Bun's coworkers laughed as they watched her lose control. Closing her eyes and grunting loudly, Dr. Bun pushed out a huge load of crap into her bulky diaper. She closed her eyes as she did it, pretending she was anywhere but here. While she had messed herself before, and many of these women had in fact changed one of her messy diapers, it had never been so public and so humiliated. The nurses cheered the doctor on as she debased herself like an infant for enjoyment.

When the doctor was finished, Nurse Angela beant down and whispered in her ear. "Remember doctor, no matter how good you are at your job or how many accolades you receive, to us, you will never be more than a stupid, untrustworthy little baby. Now sit in your mess and play with your toys. It's going to be a long night."

Dr. Bun could only do as she was told, suck on her pacifier and cry as she came to terms with the fact that she'd be these nurses plaything for the rest of her life.

[nerdishpursuits]

Today’s episode was hard to watch. No doubt about it. But, sadly, this continues to be a reality for many women and raising awareness is crucial to combatting ignorance. Does it ever get any easier watching a woman being abused? Never. Is it necessary to show how terrifying and traumatic such events are? Yes. Even as Fina was rescued before things escalated further, this will profoundly impact her sense of self: her mental health, her emotional landscape, her relationship with her own body. The Fina we know is a vibrant, confident, deeply sensual woman. I’m sure she’ll be all that again but, for now, she’ll most likely have some form of ptsd. It’ll be another uphill battle but Marta will be by her side, every step of the way (given they’ve chosen to walk this thorny path, I’m hoping they’ll treat it with more care than Begoña’s own story of abuse; if done right, this can be a rewarding journey portraying the healing power of love and friendship, triumphant in the face of bigotry, victorious in the face of adversity)

Circling back to Marta. I can’t begin to imagine her despair at discovering Fina was abused. That all she’d been so desperate to prevent from reoccurring, has been attempted again, more violently than before. The guilt she’ll feel will be immeasurable, no doubt. And it will consume her from the inside out if she allows it to take root. Nothing is more hateful than failing to protect the one you love. And Fina is Marta’s everything, her whole world, her raison d’être.

Therefore, yet again, I’m going to remember that their story is meant to be one of hope and light. Which is what they are to each other. They’ll heal together, they’ll heal each other and grow all the stronger for it. The show’s not let us down so far. I trust this will end up a catalyst for many rewarding scenes together.

Which brings me to the foul reason they need healing to begin with. Thinking on it, it’s probably a mistake to call Santiago a psychopath, even as he displays plenty of traits that merit said label. He’s very much aware of his actions and deserves no leniency. Ultimately, he’s the product of a regime that glorifies in the systemic oppression of women. One whose very ideas, and ideals, derive from a deep-rooted misogyny. In Santiago’s purposeful narrowmindedness, a man is the epicentre of a woman’s life. Not being treated as such is considered a grave error and needs correcting. He’s the prideful despot who cannot fathom, or accept, rejection. One who cannot conceive of a world where he’s not given his due, as per the teachings of a society that views and treats women as second-class citizens, deserving of less and inferior to their masculine betters.

It’s all too clear Santiago’s worldview is also profoundly narcissistic, which makes his continued harassment of Fina even more disturbing. He genuinely believes he’s being magnanimous and merciful, extending his goodwill to her, the proverbial biblical sinner, so she can atone for her mistakes and be saved. In his own eyes, Santiago is a good man. In his misguided vanity, patronising and emboldened by a system that favours him at every turn, he even declares himself as such: a self-proclaimed saviour and Fina’s only path to salvation from a life of sin. Her sole path to redemption.

Truly, this character is utterly despicable and I cannot wait for him to eat dirt. But I also suspect he’ll cause more trouble until Fina and Marta are free of him for good. And while I’ll celebrate his demise with bells and whistles, I think the actor portraying this vile, sorry excuse for a man, is doing a spectacular job. They all are. Alba and Marta especially. Which is why this drama hit so hard when it made landfall. You feel Marta’s anguish and hopelessness, you experience Fina’s abject terror, you rage against Santiago’s condescending abuse.

That being rambled? Do I hate what Fina went through this episode? Wholeheartedly. It made me sick to my stomach, even as I’m grateful it ended with an attempt only (which doesn't make it any less of a violation). And damn, do I hate it’s necessary to show this nowadays because 2024 might as well be 1958 for many women still.

Also. I’m glad Marta didn’t have to ask Jesús for help, because she’d have never lived it down. Ultimately, I’m sure she would have done anything to liberate Fina from prison, even asking her older brother for help. But I’m glad the chosen path didn’t involve him. In fact, I’m pleasantly surprised Damián rose to the occasion. He keeps learning how to support and love Marta and he’s one gray character whose evolution I’m quite enjoying.

And finally? Marta so at ease with Carmen and Claudia. They’ve come such a long way and it’s a joy to see. From Marta feeling like she didn’t belong, back in the day, to them all falling into a much needed group-hug, knowing they can always rely on each other. Fina’s friends are becoming Marta’s friends and I love, love, love their scenes together. Not to mention they’re all kinda related now too, which adds some much needed levity.

Remains to be seen how they deal with the stigma of this entire situation. Poor Fina might as well have been branded with a scarlet letter. Plenty more fires left to put out once she’s out of prison. On the bright side, they’ll know whom they can trust and whom they need to keep hiding from.

Hopefully though, on to greener pastures at some point. Preferably healing at the Mafinca. Slowly but surely. And always, always together.

[jellyskink]

A fish out of water. (Idk I wanted to make the title reference Stan's Cipher Zodiac symbol but I couldn't think of a witty way how. Is it even a fish?? Idk I see a fish lol.)

("Wherever we go, we go together alright bro?")

Light filled the room as Stan flipped the lightswitch to his condo. Soft white light filled the room, a mixture of trash and trinkets littered the room in front him.

(Right... I forgot I've been needin' to take care of that. Eh I'll get to it tomorrow. The twins won't be back here until a couple of days.)

Reaching up to scratch his chin, a sharp pain registered as his hand scratched his chin and lower lip.

(OW Ffff-french toast... Figures I'd forget about the number that guy did on the old kisser.)

Earlier that day another jerk had mistaken him for his twin. The usual routine, of course he made sure to return the favor with interest though. There's no way that guy would be seein' anything with his left eye for a good while after the mark he left on it.

(Welp, better get to trying to fix this up. Mabel and Ford'll definitely worry even more than usual if this gets infected.)

Saying that, the old man shuffled over to his bathroom, dodging the miscellaneous items that covered the floor.

(Aight let's get this over with...)

The bathroom was a little disorganized, but everything was more or less the same as it usually was. Still, it was a bit of an adjustment to get used to having Mabel (and to an extent Dipper's) stuff in the sink cabinet along with his own.

Searching through the wave of clutter in the cabinet, Stan eventually found the peroxide he was searching for, to his dismay he did find he was out of normal band-aids, so he was forced to use the box of band-aids covered with designs of puppies, kittens, and narwhals.

(Really hope Mabel doesn't mind I'm usin' one of her band-aids...)

Stan knew she wouldn't, heck she'd insist he use them, but Stan couldn't help but feel at least a little bit guilty for needing to ask for handouts from her, a kid.

Cleaning up the wound was about as fun as it could be, but it wasn't the worst. God knows he's had to clean up way worse.

After quickly slapping a kitten band-aid with the words "Paw-Sum Dude!" onto his wound, he found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror.

(Geez, I guess I'll never escape bein' pointdexter's shadow sometimes huh?)

It was to be expected with being a twin right? Especially if one was more famous than the other.

Although these days that "popularity" was more negative than positive.

(At least it wasn't the dog treats n' cat biscuits thing this time. I HATE when they do that.)

Geez what would Pa think with how they turned out, what would MA think?

Times like these he really wished he could literally beat some sense into people. If he could only make people understand Ford like he did, or at least, like he THOUGHT he did.

(Shoot, he started thinking like this again.)

Like a slideshow in science class, bits and pieces of memories of his youth flashed by in a blink of an eye.

Fond memories of their times on the beach, their first day of school, to the awkward start of learning to box.

To the less wonderful times, the fights between their parents or the family in general, times the two got hurt defending themselves from bullies, to all of the times the two fought.

...

"This was no accident, Stan; you did this! You did this because you couldn't handle me going to college on my own!"

(Crap, I'm dwellin' on this again? Why? It's been years since that dumb mistake!)

And yet it wasn't just a dumb mistake was it? It was THE dumb mistake. The one that cost Ford his dream college, the one that ruined their relationship for so many years, the one one that got Stanley kicked out onto the streets by their Father and was forced to survive all those years on his own.

(If only I had manned up and had told the truth about that dumb machine earlier, we probably could've fixed it. I could've prevented all of the junk that I caused to the family, I probably could've PREVENTED Ford from ever getting involved with that dumb triangle!)

But... was their any truth to that? In a perfect world where Stan didn't screw up once again, could he confidently say things would've been better?

(Why didn't he say anything that day? Why didn't he stand up against Pa that day? Did I screw up so much he hated me that much?)

The funniest part about that was he could'nt even ask Ford about it. If he did, Ford got this distant look on his face while havin' a 50/50 shot of either spacing out for a good while or freakin' out for what felt like AGES.

Stan began to feel a tight feeling in his chest, his throat starting to close as it started to become harder to breathe.

The very same man who had carried so much pride in himself and his work, that he was willing to leave Stan out to dry when Stan had screwed up his chances at getting into his dream school, was now a shell of his former self.

(You threw everything away for... for... some dumb triangle with an eye! Your self respect, your family, you gave it all up for what??)

Tears began to flow down Stanley's cheeks.

(Damnit, I shouldn't be crying. A man ain't supposed to cry over something as small as this!)

As Stan tried his best to try and rebottle his emotions again, something caught his eye as he looked out in front of him.

It was Ford. His spitting image stared back at him, looking just as upset as he was while wearing the same things as he did.

His previous sadness soon began to blossom into rage as Stan found himself grabbing the baseball bat he kept in the bathroom for emergencies.

"Y-YOU JUST HAD TO HAVE EVERYTHING DIDN'T YOU!"

*Crack*

"AND STILL YA GAVE UP EVERYTHING TA BE WITH SOMETHIN' THAT DOESN'T TREAT YA BETTER THAN A STRAY DOG!!"

*Shatter*

"I-I"

The words "Hate you" hung on the edge of this tongue. He wanted to say those words so BADLY. Wanted to believe em' too. And yet he couldn't.

The mirror in front of him was shattered beyond repair, pieces of it still hanging onto it's frame as the rest collected into the sink below it.

From those pieces, Stan was able to see the ball of anger that stood in front of him. Ford's reflection wasn't there anymore, it was him again, yet with the way he looked in the mirror, he also saw his Father's stern look staring back at him, his rage filled eyes reflecting back at him in the triangular piece of mirror that stubbornly held on to the mirror's frame despite what a majority of the other pieces did by just breaking off from it.

("All you ever do is lie and cheat, and ride on your brother's coattails.")

*Clunk*

The bat fell to the ground as Stan felt himself fall to his knees, tears flowing even stronger as he found his body doing the opposite of what his mind told it to do.

A bloodcurdling roar filled the night, similar to a hurt angry bear, the sound afterwards followed by sobs.

Stan would eventually get to collecting himself enough to clean up the mess in the bathroom, afterwards falling asleep at his armchair with the tv on as whitenoise. The framed pictures of his family watching over him as his only companions that night.

It was going to be "fun" to think up a lie to tell the neighbors the next day about the noise coming from his condo, but he was too exhausted to worry about that right now. Right now, he just wanted to sleep, hoping the cravings for certain substances would leave in the morning, he made so much progress for the twins already, he didn't want to lose all of it due to some "hysterical episode" of his.

Of course, when Mabel and Dipper called the next morning they'd be none the wiser of what ailed their Great Uncle, he'd be matching their excited energy as they told them what mischief they've gotten into lately.

Ford would still be none the wiser as he embraced his brother when they metup that afternoon, although he would find it strange Stanley had trouble looking him in the eye that day, although he'd be quickly brushed off when he'd ask Stan if anything was wrong and if he and his Muse could help with anything.

Stanley was going to make sure that nobody was going to see or know the fragile side to him.

Nobody was going to know that "Stanley Screwup Pines" was struggling with personal issue.

If luck wasn't on your side you kept trying until it was, even if you had to cheat your way to winning.

You didn't just accept defeat when you're knocked down.

If there was something wrong with a performance you just continued onwards, winging it and acting like nothing was wrong because the show must go on.

He wasn't ever going to cry in front of anyone.

Cause especially if he cried,

SHE would cry along with him.

And he wasn't ever going to let that happen as long as his lived.

In a way you could say this was the greatest con Stanley Pines ever did.

Convincing everyone, even himself, that he was infact, fine.

(HEY BESTIES! I totally lost some sleep writing this but after seeing the latest post my Jellyskink about Stan I knew I had to try writing some fanfiction for Stan!

The 14 year old girl that possessed me is happy to say it was fun to try writing more angsty fanfiction, especially since that's a specialty for the Gravity Falls Fandom when it isn't being silly or comforting lol.

I hope this turned out decently! As I writing this I was thinking of two Marina songs to recommend but I couldn't decide on one so I thought I'd share both of them.

"The Family Jewels"

"Teen Idle"

Both by Marina.

I hope I kinda captured Stan's essence! I always kinda thought he gave off the "Bruiser with a soft side" trope and stuff!

He's so bbg, I hope everyone enjoys the very girlypop and slaytastic fanfic I wrote for him! Geez I'm having too much fun talking like this lmao!)

THIS IS SO SADDD I LOVE IT 💔💔💔 POOR STAN!!!

(Pictured above: Ford's obliviousness has only gotten worse in his isolation from other humans)

(Also pictured above: the young twins are currently holding the family brain cells)

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Pt3

Where did you sleep last night?

The days blur together after I leave James behind in the cold, silent night. Each one is heavy with a suffocating emptiness, yet I force myself to keep going. Every hour feels like a battle against the memories that claw at the edges of my mind—his smile, the way his laughter used to light up a room, the warmth of his arms when the world felt too big. I hate myself for missing those moments because now they feel like lies, fractured pieces of something I'll never get back.

The nights are the worst. Lying awake, staring at the ceiling, I can still feel the ghost of his presence. But I remind myself of the betrayal, the sting of his words, and the image of his regretful face under the streetlights. I hold onto the pain because it's all I have left. And yet, somewhere deep inside, I wonder if he's feeling it too.

James sits on the edge of his bed, the same bed that now feels like a foreign place. The sheets are cold, the silence of the house deafening. He hasn't slept properly in days, haunted by the look on my face as I turned and walked away. The realization of what he's done consumes him like a slow, cruel burn.

He reaches out instinctively, his hand brushing the empty space beside him. It feels wrong. The bed's too big without her, and the coldness is unbearable. He stares at the ceiling, his chest aching, and for the first time in years, he cries. The tears come without warning, hot and relentless, streaming down his face as the weight of his mistakes crashes over him.

"I ruined everything," he whispers into the silence, his voice breaking. "I lost her."

Memories flood his mind, unrelenting. The way she used to laugh at his dumb jokes, the way she'd curl up against him on the couch, her head on his chest as we watched movies. The quiet moments where no words were needed, where just being together was enough. Those memories cut deeper than anything, a cruel reminder of what he threw away.

When the knock came late one evening, I almost didn't answer it. I was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, my eyes puffy from crying. But something made me stand, my feet moving of their own accord. When I opened the door, the sight of James hit me like a tidal wave.

He stood there, his shoulders hunched against the cold, his face pale and tear-streaked. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with dark circles, and he looked utterly broken. He clutched a crumpled piece of paper in one trembling hand, but it was the expression on his face that shattered me. He looked like a man drowning, reaching out for a lifeline he didn't think he deserved.

"Y/n," he choked out, his voice hoarse and raw. "Please... I need to talk to you."

I froze, my hand tightening on the doorframe. Seeing him hurt, and I hated that it did. Hated that part of me wanted to reach out, to touch his face and tell him everything would be okay. But it wouldn't be okay. Not after what he'd done.

"There's nothing left to say," I said, my voice cold and flat. "You made your choice, James."

"I know," he said, his voice trembling, "but I—I can't do this. I can't be without you. I don't deserve for you to listen, but I'm begging you. Please. Please let me explain."

His words cracked something inside me, the raw desperation in them cutting through my defenses. Against my better judgment, I stepped aside, letting him in. He hesitated before walking in, as if afraid to cross the threshold. The air between us was thick with tension, the silence oppressive as we stood facing each other.

"I haven't slept since you left," he began, his voice trembling. "I haven't eaten. I can't—I can't function, Y/n. Every time I close my eyes, I see your face. And it kills me, because I know I did that. I'm the one who put that look in your eyes."

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hold myself together. "You're right. You did. And now you're here, what? To tell me you're sorry? To beg for forgiveness? Do you think that'll make it better?"

He flinched, tears slipping down his cheeks. "No," he said, his voice breaking. "Nothing I say can fix what I did. But I need you to know... I love you, Y/n. I've always loved you. And losing you—it's tearing me apart."

"Don't you dare say you love me," I spat, my voice rising. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have done this. You wouldn't have lied to me, made me feel like a fool while you were with her!"

"I know," he whispered, his voice cracking. "God, I know. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for hurting you, for betraying you. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you if you'll let me. Just... please, tell me there's still a chance."

I shook my head, my throat tightening. "You don't get it, do you? It's not just about the cheating. You broke something in me, James. You made me question everything—whether I was enough, whether I was ever enough. I don't know if I can come back from that."

His face crumpled, and he dropped to his knees, the paper in his hand falling to the floor. "You were more than enough," he sobbed. "You were everything. I'm the one who wasn't enough—for you, for us. I let my insecurities, my stupidity, ruin the best thing that ever happened to me. Please, Y/n. Please don't let this be the end of us."

His words hit me like a hammer, the raw emotion in them making my chest ache. I wanted to stay angry, to hold onto my pain, but seeing him like this—broken and desperate—it made it harder to keep the walls around my heart intact.

"What is this?" I asked, picking up the crumpled paper.

"It's... everything I couldn't say before," he whispered. "Everything I've been too much of a coward to tell you."

I unfolded the paper, my hands trembling. His handwriting was shaky, the words uneven and raw. He'd poured his heart out in the letter, confessing his love, his regret, his desperation to make things right. By the time I finished reading, tears were streaming down my face.

"Y/n," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know that. But I'll spend every day trying to earn it if you'll let me."

I looked at him, my heart breaking all over again. "I don't know if I can forgive you, James," I said, my voice trembling. "You hurt me in ways I didn't think were possible. But... I need time."

His shoulders sagged with relief, tears spilling down his cheeks as he nodded. "Take all the time you need. I'll wait. For as long as it takes."

As he left, the door closing softly behind him, I clutched the letter to my chest. My heart was torn between the love I still felt and the pain he'd caused, but for the first time in days, I felt a flicker of something else—hope. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

It had been a week since James showed up at my door, broken and pleading. His words replayed in my mind like an unrelenting echo, threading through every quiet moment. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying to earn it."

I'd tried to push it all away, bury the memories under the crushing weight of his betrayal. But the harder I tried, the more they surfaced—his laughter ringing in my ears, his touch a phantom against my skin. The scent of his cologne, still faintly clinging to the blanket I had refused to wash, became my undoing. It was him, everywhere and nowhere all at once.

The nights were the worst. They stretched endlessly, the silence pressing down on me like a weight. I missed the sound of his even breathing beside me, the way he'd pull me closer in his sleep, murmuring soft words against my hair. I missed the mornings when he'd nudge me awake with that lopsided grin, calling me "babe" in that warm, teasing voice. God, I missed him—more than I wanted to admit.

But the pain wasn't gone. It sat in my chest, heavy and unrelenting, a reminder of the trust he had shattered. You don't fool me anymore. I had said those words to him, and I meant them. But now, the ache of missing him felt unbearable, like I was trying to breathe with half my heart missing.

It was late, the moonlight casting long shadows across my apartment, when I gave up pretending I could keep going like this. I threw off the blanket and stood, my heart pounding as I grabbed my coat. I didn't know what I was doing. All I knew was that I couldn't stay away anymore. The weight of the silence, the void of his absence—it was too much.

The streets were quiet as I made my way to his house, the night air biting at my skin. I told myself I was just going to talk, to find some kind of closure. But deep down, I knew the truth. I missed him. I missed him in a way that felt like my soul was aching, like the part of me that had been whole only existed with him.

When I reached his door, I hesitated, my hand hovering just above the wood. My heart was racing, a war raging inside me between my hurt and my love for him. Before I could overthink it, I knocked.

The sound of hurried footsteps on the other side made my breath catch. The door opened, and there he was, his eyes widening in shock. He looked just as wrecked as the night he had come to me—maybe worse. His hair was disheveled, his shirt rumpled, and his eyes... they were filled with so much raw emotion that it made my chest tighten.

"Y/n?" he whispered, his voice cracking.

I didn't give him a chance to say more. Before I could second-guess myself, I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. His arms flew around me, pulling me close, and he buried his face against my shoulder.

"Oh my God," he breathed, his voice trembling. "You're here. You're really here."

His body shook against mine, and I realized he was crying. His sobs were quiet but full of so much relief, so much pain, that they broke something inside me. I felt his tears soaking into my coat as he clung to me like I might vanish if he let go.

"I thought I'd lost you," he choked out. "I thought you'd never—oh, God, Y/n."

His grip tightened, his arms trembling as he held me, and I felt something shift in my chest. The anger and hurt were still there, but they were softened by the overwhelming love I still felt for him. I hated him for what he'd done, but I couldn't hate the way he made me feel like I was home, even now.

"I couldn't stay away," I whispered, my own voice thick with emotion. "I tried, James. I really tried. But I—" My voice broke, and the tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over. "I missed you."

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands cupping my face as he stared into my eyes. His thumbs brushed away my tears, even as his own continued to fall.

"I don't deserve this," he said, his voice raw and filled with anguish. "I don't deserve you. But I swear, Y/n, I'll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I can be better. I'll never hurt you again. I'll never give you a reason to doubt me."

I searched his face, my heart pounding in my chest. I saw the guilt there, the pain, but most of all, I saw the love—the same love that had once made me feel like I was the center of his world. And despite everything, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that we could find our way back to what we used to be.

"I'm not saying it's going to be easy," I said, my voice trembling. "I'm not saying I can forgive you right away. But I—" I took a shaky breath, my hands clutching his shirt. "I want to try."

The relief that flooded his face was like a sunrise breaking through the darkness. He let out a shuddering breath, his forehead pressing against mine as he whispered, "Thank you. Thank you, Y/n. You have no idea what this means to me."

He pulled me back into his arms, holding me so tightly it was almost hard to breathe, but I didn't care. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could finally exhale. His warmth surrounded me, his familiar scent wrapping around me like a comfort I hadn't realized I'd been craving.

"I missed you so much," he murmured against my hair. "The bed's been so cold without you. The house—it's been so empty. I've been so empty, Y/n. You're my everything."

His words melted the last of my defenses, and I let myself sink into his embrace, my tears soaking into his shirt. For now, it was enough. The hurt wasn't gone, but it was quieter, drowned out by the love that still lingered between us.

As we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, I felt the first flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, we could find a way to piece ourselves back together. It wouldn't be easy. It wouldn't be perfect. But for the first time, I felt like it was possible.

And that was enough.

[gallaghersgal]

Hii !! I saw that you came back im so happy ! I have a little request !

What do you think about Lip x fem!reader that love pampering him, especially after he says mean things about himself. Maybe they are in bed together and he say mean things about himself and reader can’t handle it, it breaks her heart to hear her bf talk about himself like that :( so she take his hands and pull him in front of the mirror of the bathroom and she says things like « look at your eyes, they are the same color of the ocean » and « look at your beautiful nose » while kissing each part of his body 🥹 it would be so cute !! I’m feeling angsty today

hi!! i took this a slightly different route, but thanks sm for the req!! so so cute, i love him so bad :(( rated mature for emotional angst & alcoholism mentions

it was the day after a relapse in lip's sobriety. the journey was never easy, you knew that from the beginning. but days like this one were hard regardless. you made it through most of the day, but now he sits next to you, trying to focus on his twelve-step book. you know he's engraining the methods and techniques he's learned back into his brain.

"baby?" you ask softly, and he turns to face you. "put the book down, let's go to bed?"

he shakes his head, "no, no. 'm a fuckin' idiot for falling back in. i-i have you, and a healthy baby girl, i can't be doin' this shit. not to her. and not to you."

his eyes turn back to the book, and you frown. you know his self-deprecating words come from a place of fear, he doesn't want to continue in his own father's ways. he wants to be better.

"lip, look at me." you reach out, taking the book and placing the old receipt he uses as a bookmark between the pages. you lift your hand to his chin and tilt his face towards your own.

"you are a good man. we all make mistakes," you tell him softly. "but you love our daughter and you love me."

"y'could be better off," he mumbles, "i know it."

there it is, the root of his fears. you know the courage it took for him to return to you, deep in his shame after spending the night at a bar ignoring your calls. he'd cried when he walked through the door, falling to his knees in his drunken state and wrapping his arms around your thighs.

you could've screamed at him for being so foolish, could have lashed out for his avoidance, but you just knelt on the floor at his side. his blue eyes were bloodshot when he looked at you, wide and worrisome. a firm kiss to his head smothered any fear in his mind, if only for a moment.

and now, tonight, you tell him, "you are one of the smartest people i know. you act all tough, but you have a big heart. you protect what you love. phillip gallagher you are all i need."

he cracks a smile at your use of his full name, strong arms circling your shoulders to pull you into his chest. "thank y'u baby, needed t'hear that."

[hearmeoutgirl]

Hey, guys! I hope you're doing well.... I thought of a new plot and wanted to write it! Enjoy reading!

(note: please write your suggestions, my brain has trouble producing them)

[Side note: English is not my native language, please forgive me if I make any mistakes🙏]

Subject: You See Your Ex At A Party

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was an ordinary night. You were looking out at the sea while the warm wind blew through your hair.

You were clearly overwhelmed. While the party inside was going on with all its might, you were leaning on the railings on the balcony, looking out. A few meters away, a few young people were kissing, more were having sex, they seemed to be having fun. You were startled when your phone vibrated in your pocket. You put the red paper cup in your hand aside and looked at your phone.

When your friend sent you messages one after another about finding her, you realized that she was drunk and that the possibility of you getting into trouble had increased. You had come to this party upon her request. "Lighten up a bit, Yn... Enough with this depressed-girl vibe," she had said to you when she came to invite you to the party.

You and your friend knew the reason why you were a depressed girl, as your friend called.

Damn Cameron....

You tucked your phone into your pocket and headed inside. You put the paper cup in your hand aside and entered the party. The noise around you made you wince, while the intense smell of alcohol and drugs made your stomach turn.

Damn Cameron. Yeah, damn.

Your gaze began to search for your friend under the high light. A lot of human bodies were touching yours, you could feel their alcoholic breath on your neck. You had better find your friend before you throw up. Your phone vibrated once more in your pocket and you saw that it said your friend was in one of the bathrooms upstairs. You headed for the stairs to go upstairs.

You grunted as you were looking at your phone when a body collided with you hard. It had to be a Pogue. You rolled your eyes at him as he looked at you and started walking up the stairs.

But it didn't take long. Right after I stepped on the first step, a body appeared at the top of the stairs. He was wearing one of his black polos. Black pants underneath. You thought he'd be a little depressed for a party, until you realized you were also wearing black shorts and a black crop top.

Damn Cameron.

When your gazes met, you looked into his blue eyes for a second. They were staring deeply. As if they were trying to see something. You looked away as you swallowed slowly. You always did that.

(back to the past)

You were giggling. You were giggling in the middle of the night in the arms of the man you loved. Even though it felt like a dream, it was real.

"Rafey...." you spoke between laughter. "Stop now..."

Rafe smiled without taking his lips from your neck, his hands touching your bare waist under your shirt. "No... I love your smile..." He looked up into your eyes and kissed your chin.

Your cheeks flushed slightly as your hands ran through his freshly cut hair. You smiled, but avoided his gaze. You always did this...

(now)

After staring at each other for what felt like more than a few minutes, you took a deep breath. When your phone vibrated once more, you remembered once again why you were here. For your friend.

Damn Cameron.

After looking at your phone, you quickly started climbing the stairs. Rafe was watching you with cold eyes. You felt like you were going to fall with every stair you climbed without looking at him. Rafe was looking at you with his arms folded across his chest. Since he was upstairs, he either went to the balcony upstairs to smoke or...

or to be inside a woman. And you hate this thought.

Rafe's large hand grabbed your bare arm as you passed him on the stairs. Before you could even open your mouth, he pulled you into a nearby room. Your eyebrows furrowed as the door slammed shut behind you and locked itself. "Rafe what are you doing?" You grew up but you couldn't see him. You couldn't really see. The lights were off. "Turn on the light." He knew he hated the dark.

You felt a sarcastic laugh coming from your throat. All the windows in the room were closed. There was no light coming from the yellow room either. You felt Rafe’s breath on your face as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Still scared of the dark, little girl?”

You paused. The sarcasm in his voice broke your heart. You averted your eyes. You really did this a lot. “Turn on the damn lights, Cameron.”

You felt a hand brush your hair behind your shoulders. There was no doubt who it was. Large hands were touching your hair with a familiar ease. "You must learn the darkness, little girl." The coldness in his voice frightened you. You didn't like it.

Although, judging by what he did after you left, it was true that he had turned into a complete psychopath. It didn't make sense that this man who had killed a police officer would touch your hair so gently.

"What do you want from me, Rafe? Leave me alone. I need to go to my friend..." you spoke nervously. You wanted to go to your friend.

And another mocking laugh... "Your friend? Oh little girl... you still don't get it, do you?"

You paused... what didn't you understand?

"Let me enlighten your tiny mind... I convinced your friend to bring you here tonight. The same thing about going upstairs... Because I wanted... I wanted you with me."

When his hands found your cheeks, your eyebrows furrowed, trying to see his face. "You... you're talking nonsense."

It probably wasn't true. Rafe couldn't have been that crazy.... Right?

"Yn... you don't understand... look at me..." you grumbled as his hand lifted your chin up.

"I'll see if I can... but there's no light." Rafe sighed in exasperation and turned on the light. His hands found your cheeks once more as you squinted at him.

“Now? Is there anything else wrong?” When you stayed silent, he sighed once more and looked at you. “I know I’m not perfect… but you know that we’re both ugly in our own right, but beautiful and perfect together.”

"Rafe...." just as you were about to object to him, a pair of lips touched yours.

When you got over your initial surprise, you moaned quietly and wrapped your arms around his neck. You couldn't stand it. You couldn't stand his absence. When you opened your lips for him, he happily stuck his tongue in and kissed you. His mouth looked like a crime scene. And even if you were guilty, he was a witness.

"You're mine, little girl... you've always been mine..."

This wasn’t right. It shouldn’t have happened. You shouldn’t have given in to him as his lips moved from your jaw to your neck. Be proud girl, be proud!

"Rafe.. stop! No... that's not true..." you placed your hands on rafe’s muscular chest, trying to push him away. But you failed. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around the back of your thighs and lifted you onto his lap. “Rafe… stop!”

But Rafe didn’t hear you. He was sucking on your neck like a hungry animal as he laid you down on the first bed he found in the dark room. His hands were everywhere. They wouldn’t stop. Your hands grabbed his thick biceps and tried to stop him. You wanted to do this right. Not like this . . .

“Rafe, stop!” Rafe paused as your voice grew louder. His face was buried in your neck. He looked up at you as he took a deep breath. You couldn’t see his face. And as if he sensed it, he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on.

"What?" his voice was muffled by the kisses he had just left on her neck. "You're mine, Yn... you know that, don't you?" his hand roamed her body. He slid between her legs and cupped her pussy over her shorts. "This beauty is mine too... this body... all of it..."

Your eyes looked into his blue ones. You pushed him off you as you sighed and leaned your back against the headboard. Rafe growled in annoyance and stood up. You saw the anger in his body grow and his body pace around the room in anger. “What the fuck do you want, Yn? Huh? Not enough of this whore stuff? What the fuck do you want.”

You swallowed slowly and looked away as Rafe rolled over and kicked the seat next to you, cursing. “Benj, you’re driving me crazy! You’re driving me crazy!” You pulled your knees up as you sighed in fear. You flinched when Rafe angrily punched the wall.

"Rafe..."

"What did you want that I didn't do, Yn?" There was pain and anger in his eyes when he turned to you with his bleeding hand. "Huh? I became a good man... just for you! I fucked the fucking drugs! For you! Fuck! I stood up to my father for you!" You looked at the blood dripping from his hand to the ground. Every word he said was driving the dagger into his heart even deeper. "I left everyone behind and came to you... I came here, Yn... for you! Fuck I disregarded my pride for you!"

You stayed silent as tears streamed down your face. Rafe continued to pace the room angrily. He continued to mutter as his hand rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation. “What happened to us? What happened, huh?”

You sighed but couldn’t answer. The reason you left was simple. You didn’t want to stay in a toxic relationship. Add Rafe’s constant tantrums and jealousy to that… you couldn’t take it. But now that it dawned on you, you stayed silent. Every word of what he said was true. He had broken things off with his father, for you… His friends made fun of him for still wanting you, but Rafe was still there for you. This man didn’t know what else to do…

Rafe paused for a moment as he paced the room and looked at you. “Anyone else… is there anyone else?” Your gaze shifted from the hardwood floor to his. You frowned at him as you sat there with your knees drawn up. “There is, isn’t there?” Rafe took a step towards you, his hands shaking with anger. You swallowed hard. “Who is it? Huh? What bastard?”

You shook your head quickly. But Rafe didn’t even see it. “N-no… no…”

"Which pimp touched you, huh? Which one fucked you like I did? Answer!" When he took another step towards you, your eyes widened quickly and you shook your head.

“Rafe no… there’s no one… I swear there’s no one… it didn’t happen…” Rafe calmed down a bit when he saw the fear in your eyes. But the anger was still palpable.

"and it will never, ever happen. do you hear me? I won't let you..." When you shook your head, he sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. His back was turned to you. He leaned his elbows on his knees as his shoulders slumped tiredly. "I can't let you, Yn... I can't let you slip through my hands... not again..."

Not again... oh... his mom. Not again...

You looked at his back, biting your lower lip. "There's no one left. There's no one left, Yn..." You hesitantly approach him. A hand touches his tense shoulder. His anger is still in his body, but he leans into your touch involuntarily.

He sighed nervously as you wrapped your thin arms around his shoulders, leaning your cheek against his broad back. “Still going on? I mean… your nightmares?”

He swallowed hard. He sighed as you nuzzled your cheek against his broad back, looking at the wall in front of him as your arms wrapped around his shoulders and touched the tiny stubble on his chin. “Sometimes. I can’t sleep at night.”

You knew why. It was you.

(Back to past)

"Looks like someone's late again..." Rafe was sipping his beer on the couch as he looked at your body entering the living room. It was one of those winter months. And you went to help your close friend because she had just given birth. Of course, you didn't know that this help would last until midnight...

You took off your jacket and bag, setting them aside and walked over to the fireplace, feeling your cold hands. “Looks like someone’s still not asleep…” you mumbled quietly. The house was silent except for the low sounds of Rafe’s boxing match and the crackling of the wood burning in the fireplace.

Rafe finished his beer, set it aside, and reached for the remote, turning off the screen. He lifted his large body off the couch and walked behind you. A pair of arms wrapped around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. When he surrounded you from behind, he took your hands, which were tiny compared to his, in his own and heard them. "You know I didn't..." his face rested on your neck. "It's so hard without you, baby..."

You smiled and leaned your back against his chest. You chuckled quietly when you felt the coldness of his rings in your hands. “I wonder what you’re going to do while I’m gone…”

Rafe sighed. His arms tightened around your waist as his lips kissed the line of your jaw. “I’ll always have you in my arms.” You smiled. That was what you wanted too. I

t wasn't certain whether you would go to heaven or not, but being able to taste heaven between these two pairs of arms was enough for you.

(Now)

I felt your back tense up against his cheek, and you remained silent.

“This is so shit, Yn.” He sighed and leaned back against you. You let him as your legs spread out to the sides. You accepted him. Like always. You slid back into bed and spread your arms, leaning your head on the pillows.

"Come here...." you mumbled quietly. His cold gaze softened as it met yours over your shoulder. Your big man couldn't bear you. He glanced at the door before approaching you. After he realized it was locked and no one could disturb you, he approached you. He got between your legs. His arms wrapped around your waist as his face leaned against the hollow of your chest.

“I hate you…” Rafe sighed in relief as you wrapped your arms around him, your hands tucked into his shirt, arching his back.

"At least you can feel something..." He grinned slightly and his eyes slowly closed. It was obvious that he was sleep deprived.

You sighed and stroked the hair on the back of his neck. “Topper said you’ve been on drugs for the last few nights.” There was disappointment in his voice. He promised you.

Rafe shrugged nonchalantly. He wrapped his arms around you tighter, leaning his face against the spot between your neck and chest that your shirt left exposed. He pulled your shirt down. “It’s the only thing that helps me sleep.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for the blanket next to you as Rafe finally rested his face comfortably against your skin, covering you with it. His huge body was already warming you. “You promised... you wouldn’t drink...”

Rafe said sarcastically. "You promised... you wouldn't go..." This situation caused you to remain silent. You leaned your lips against his hair as you sighed deeply.

"Rafe Cameron... I love you..." The issue between you was still unresolved but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your lips.

Rafe kissed her skin as he grinned against hers. "I'm dying for you, Yn. I feel like I'm living for you..." he mumbled before falling asleep. "Your smell... my home."

Hey guys! I hope you liked it! I don't know exactly how I feel while writing this chapter but I get a lot of Taylor Swift You're Losing Me vibes... even though they end up together...

Your suggestions are very important to me! Please don't forget to comment!

[greml1nb0i]

While hazbin premise is Intresting I feel it falls flat as the main cast is more on the less redeamable side and deserves to be in hell if you think about it more. As most of them enjoy killing and have killed and alastor Is just a cannibal. They literally had to make heaven more bad to just make the main cast look good.

That's what i hate about Viv's characters and story progressions.

The Best Example is Angel Dust.

Pilot Angel vs Viv's Angel:

Pilot Angel, is careless and crass but he still shows empathy when he realizes he's hurt someone he care about.

When he makes his one off joke about how no one is in the hotel, it makes Charlie sad, and we see Angel get upset by this, he attempts to console her but backs off the last min. Even how he talks to Vaggie feels like they have had prior conversations together, like they know each other.

Viv's Angel, is rude, sexually harasses everyone and has little empathy towards others.

He yells at Husk for just being there for him, [scene before loser baby] then again at Husk AND Vaggie for calling him out on his bullshit. [every scene with husk telling Angel to stop being fake and pushing Angel off of him, and the one scene in ep2 iirc where Vaggie tell angel he has literally never tried to be better and he walks away in self pity]

He definitely pretends to care about Nifty "not ending up in the gutter" She was stealing cleaning supplies, how is that comparable to being SA'd and abused in the workplace? He never apologizes to Husk for harassing him, and even goes so far as to excuse his own behavior towards others cuz "he's struggling".

Charlie is another example,

In the pilot yea she was naive but at least she had common frickin sense. She knew how to trick Alastor into working for her, without making a deal with him, cuz her dad taught her "you don't take shit from other demons". She and Vaggie actually had a dynamic in their relationship rather than Vaggie being an accessory to Charlie. She actually tries to gain understanding.

In Viv's show, Charlie doesnt even understand her own people, let alone how terrible they all are, and yet she wants to save them?? She doesnt understand how her own kingdom even works. Its even more frustrating when you notice that Charlie is literally a Viv self insert, in a way.

-when someone doesnt agree with Charlie, she gets mad and makes them the antagonist

-When someone doesnt agree with Viv, she gets mad and lets her fans harass people

-When someone agrees with Charlie their given this whole moment of "yay you finally agree with me" type scene

-When someone agrees with Viv they get a good ole pat on the back and "the big fucking owl, is fucking watching you, you fuck, don't disappoint me" [big brother is watching you] type comments.

Viv is passive aggressive af and so is Charlie, look at ep4. Angel is obviously upset about having to go to work, but to Charlie she doesnt care, to her Angel just wants to ditch her preschool esque exercises.

Charlie, everyone in your Hotel is an adult, why tf are you treating this like its a preschool babysitting program??

So what does she do, she invades her Angels private life and gets him abused in the process just cuz he's not doing what SHE wants him too. Then gets upset when she's told to leave after wrecking the studio AND GETTING ANGEL ABUSED.

If her Hotel was running by the rules of an actual rehab center, the Hotel would've been shut down and she would've been charged for HIPPA violations.

Honestly Adam is realistically a better person than her own people, for the simple fact the worst thing he does, is be vulgar and sexist. Whereas her people are actual rapists, serial killers and kidnappers, yet she wants these people to be seen as misunderstood.

Like if Viv wanted to critique Christianity, the whole "what's makes a sinner" idea. It would've worked way better if the sinners actually were just decent normal people trying to learn from honest mistake. Not fucking murder, but like shoplifting or something mundane. There needs to be a distinct way of saying "hey these sinners are the ones who are worthy of redemption, we will focus on them in the main plot, while these sinners will be the contrast and unworthy of redemption"

Then make some sinners actual bad people rather than edgy bad. Like yea being a rapist is bad, but there's more terrible things people can do to end up in Hell, that isn't just abuse.

For example, you could have legitimate historically bad people in the show, rather than a cast of random demons, she probably picked from a random demonology site. Or she could have used the opportunity to make modern day problems, like bigotry or extreme fascism, a topic to show for what makes an unredeemable sinner. Someone so stuck in their ways they have no chance of being a good person.

If she wants her adult show be taken seriously by adults, appropriate usage of the adult topics and shows maturity, need to sky rocket.

FFS Viv have a character punch a n@zi or something. BE FUNNY! Im tired of the fake ass "daddy issues", tasteless jokes, tonal whiplash and thinly veiled fetishes.

I have no hope for S2 getting any better