#I'll support every interpretation from now on

[class1akids]

BNHA 426 - First thoughts

I have mixed feelings:

My No 1 wish was Toya being able to talk, so I'm glad we got that. Though super-sad about the "slowly dying" thing. But he's not dead yet - so I'll consider that "open ending" for now.

Way too much focus again on Enji feeling bad - I'm glad Toya called him out for doing everything only when it's too late / doesn't matter anymore

I’m also glad that Touya reached his goal - he destroyed Endeavor, the hero fully. His body, his reputation, his legacy. Everything Touya was created for, he burnt to ash. (But at what price 😭)

it's also super-hollow to say he's sheltering the family from the fallout, after they've just talked about how Fuyumi lost her job (and got a new one through the connections she herself built). How is he going to do that?

What a contrast between Bakugou and Deku getting thanks from All Might and being called greatest heroes - while not a single person in this family thanks Shoto for the extraordinary efforts he made for them (not only in this war, but since his first visit to Rei) -> they never deserved my boy tbh...

The Shoto - Toya scene was easily the highlight of the chapter for me. I really wanted this for both of them. Everyone in the family is talking about how they will talk, but Shoto is the one actually asking a question to Toya; he still wants to know his brother after everything.

And I love how that's the final breakthrough for Toya -words supported by actions - to start crying and to say sorry. I think his inability to cry was one of the big reasons he could never move on, so I hope in whatever time he has left, he can get the emotional closure he needs. And I'm glad Shoto got at least one person in the family acknowledge his efforts, even if with just a "sorry".

It makes me super-sad though because you can see that Toya and Shoto's relationship had so much potential!!! They would have been the best of brothers.

Natsuo cutting off Endeavor is fine for me. I didn't expect a big group hug - all the kids are grown up with their own lives - like Toya said "why not sooner". Them becoming a big happy family was never on the cards. Though I'm more disappointed Natsuo had nothing to say to Toya. He's a lot like his father.

Is Rei sticking with Endeavor? I hope she's just escorting him to the agency car and not like moving back to the house with him.

I'm super disappointed that Shoto got no hug from his mom or even a line of direct dialogue. In 426 chapters, they never spoke directly!!!!! - Shoto is the only kid in the family Rei never had a dialogue with as a grown up. Hori really fumbled her too.

So Shoto - just like Izuku to Bakugou - never gets to respond properly to Endeavor's apology. Still, I interpret his line to Enji and Rei that even if the family doesn't get a dream ending, he's going to be ok because he has friends who support him and he's strong enough to shape his own identity. I'm glad we didn't get like a "it's water under the bridge" or an even worse "I'll restore the family's honor" kind of plot for Shoto. He did everything he could, he did the heavy lifting for every single relationship - he's more than earned his freedom (though I doubt that the public will easily forget that he's "Endeavor's son and Dabi's brother").

It's really bittersweet, but Shoto is still better off compared to where he started - he built some kind of relationship (however distant) with every person in his family and I guess he'll stay in touch without feeling like he has to carry all of them.

And more importantly has a safety net of friends, and he got out from under his father's thumb, away from the toxicity of his birth, forged a positive self-image, has clear goals, etc. He's an amazingly strong person, with a great mental fortitude and I hope in the 4 remaining chapters we'll see him smile at least once. He deserves it.

I'm glad Kiddo and Onima are alive. I would have hated it if they died from the copied Phosphor. I guess Burnin' is running the agency now? Though probably it gets closed down after Endeavor's retirement.

Hawks being the new prez of the HPSC was expected. Let's see what he can do.

Nagant "I want to stay in prison" is super-weird, but whatever. Hers always felt like a half-baked plot.

Gentle/La Brava is the first canon ship confirmed. I don't like them, but good for them I guess.

So next up: Spinner - Deku talk?

I need some processing time and some translations and the missing pages, but it's not the best or the worst. It delivered the thing I wanted most, though less talking from Enji and more talking from Touya and Shouto would have been better.

[iwonderwh0]

And once again, I started to like a ship that I used to despise because people made enough adorable art with it to melt mountains.

[ohproserpine]

iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

[reiderwriter]

🗝 Don't Back Down 🗝

Pairing: Unit Chief! Sub Spencer Reid x dom! BAU Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 24

Requested: Hello!! You are an excellent writer, and I hope you don’t mind a random request. :)!Basically, Spencer breaks protocol and endangers himself - runs after an unsub without backup, takes off his vest, etc. whatever it is - the reader is either there or finds out and is PISSED. She’s obviously not above him in the BAU, so she can’t punish him at work, but she can punish him in bed through toys/edging.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, brief mentions of details, minor gunshot wound, sex toys, punishment, BDSM themes, male sub Spencer, cock ring, dildo, masturbation (f), squirting, overstimulation (male), multiple orgasms, begging, messy sex, slight cum play, implied oral sex (f), boss/ subordinate relationship, partial established relationship, FWB dynamic. Implied switch x switch.

A/N: Hello! I really loved writing Unit Chief Spencer for my first Kink Bingo fic, so I've decided to bring him back a second time, and I'll be rounding out the challenge with a third part in the Unit Chief saga in July! You don't have to have read the first part, but if you want to, you can find it here~♡ I'm still enjoying the challenge of interpreting all the bingo challenges and this marks my very first bingo line! Let's see if I can get a full board!!

Masterlist || Bingo Board

His tenure as Unit Chief may have been temporary and wholly unwanted, but you admired Spencer's commitment to actually taking care of every member of the team he was left in charge of. 

He'd supported JJ in interviews, actually taking care of the press very effectively, and made sure Garcia was calm and stable. Hell, he'd even made Rossi feel better about his work on cases. And for you - well, he'd taught you to shoot straight. That and more. 

He'd held you in the middle of the night on the tougher cases, letting you sob into his bare chest the day you'd first killed an unsub. He'd distracted you from cases with his tongue, and his fingers and his dick, he'd given you pleasure where the job gave only pain and stress, and you loved him. 

You loved him, even if he was going to get himself killed. 

At first, it had been pulling Luke out of the way of a moving vehicle, being almost mowed down himself when on a case. Then he'd walked into a scene without his gun and had actually taken off his vest in exchange for JJ and Tara being able to back away to safety. He'd closed a door between him and Rossi and an active bomb that had only just been deactivated in time, and more recently, he'd taken two bullets for you. 

It was like he wanted to die. 

Th bullets, of course, had hit his vest, but a third had scraped his shoulder, and the cry out of pain had you nearly hysterical. Luke had taken down the unsub immediately, but you were a flood of tears already, panicking and having and dropping to your knees as you shook, the anxiety of almost losing him flooding your body with adrenaline. 

After all that, he was still the one comforting you. 

“Y/N. Y/N, shhh, it's okay, I'm here. I'm okay. Don't cry were both safe, I saved you. We're safe.” 

You pounded at his chest, but with the others surrounding you, there was nothing to do but stand and pull yourself together, even if you wanted to rage at him and tell and scream. 

He gave out orders and was escorted away to an ambulance, and you wiped your tears and got to work. You'd fucked Spencer, sure, you had been fucking him for months now, but it wasn't a relationship. It certainly wasn't anything your coworkers knew about, and you knew they'd have words if they did know. 

So you wiped your tears, and you put your head down and finished up your work. Then you made your way back to the jet, back to your home, back to your bed, and waited for him to make an appearance. 

You weren't in a relationship, but you knew he'd come. You heard his keys in your door, rolling your eyes at how naive you'd been handing it over - in case of emergencies, really, he had Luke and Penelope’s spare keys as well because they lived alone, it'd be safer. 

You sat up in your bed and waited for him to come in, scoffing when he knocked on your bedroom door.

“Was there a point to that, Spencer?” You asked, calling him in. 

He looked dishevelled, slightly worse for ware, but god did he look good. He wore a new shirt, a bullet hole ripped in the last one, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The top buttons were undone, and he discarded his jacket on your chair before stepping closer. 

“Y/N…” his voice was so tired you almost forgot how angry you were. Almost. 

“No. Don't come to me like that after you pulled that stupid shit today, Spencer.” 

“He was going to shoot you-” 

“He was going to miss. You're taller than me. And if I'd stayed where I was, I would have fired off a round before he could even get one shot in. But you pushed me out of the way and almost got yourself killed instead.”

He stood with his hands on his hips in front of the bed, a scowl on his face as he struggled with words to find next. 

“I won't apologize for saving your life.”

“No, you won't because you didn't save my life. You almost ended yours.”

“Y/N-” 

You knelt on the bed now and grabbed his shoulders, pushing him to his knees. 

“No. I'm done listening, and you're done talking. If you're not going to stop walking into near death experiences, you don't get to walk in here and fuck me.”

He sank to his knees easily, his eyes wide as you sat up on the bed in front of him. You thought of leaving him there the entire night, of kicking him out into the living room to sleep on the couch. If you hadn't been through so much that day, you'd just send him home. 

But sat there on his knees, you saw a flash of desire in his eyes, big and round and needy. 

His gaze flicked to your core, and you suddenly entertained different ways to punish him, to train him out of destructive behaviour. 

“Handcuffs,” you said, holding out your hands for them. He passed them up, and you left the bed, restraining his hands behind his back quickly and grabbing two items from your draws. 

You moved to the bed and knelt again as he looked at you with dark eyes, suddenly aware of what was happening to him. 

“Y/N-” 

“I didn't say you could speak,” you said as you quickly peeled off your nightdress, leaving yourself bare on the bed. 

Usually, you'd feel embarrassed being naked. Even when he undressed you, you felt the urge to cover your tits, to squeeze your legs shut so he couldn't see all of you, to let him pry your hands away, to coax your legs apart. 

Now, you sat confidently, spine straightening as you looked down at him. 

His eyes took in your body, and he winced as if pained when you touched yourself, knowing that usually he alone had that honour. 

“Y/N…”

“One more time, and you won't return to this bed for days. Do you understand?”

Learning, he nodded and sat up again to watch your fingers play with your nipples, twisting them either way as you moaned and sighed above him.

His breathing hitched as you let your hands trail lower and lower until they reached your cunt. You didn't touch yourself yet though. 

“Open,” You said, leaning forward and tapping his chin. He complied, opening his mouth and you shoved two fingers inside.

“Get them nice and wet for me.” 

He licked and sucked your fingers for two minutes, never breaking eye contact as his spit rolled down your hand. 

“Good boy,” you said, pulling them away as you began to touch yourself. Sitting back on your ass, you rubbed your clit, rubbing his spit into your sensitive button, letting him know how good it felt, how close you were to cumming with his spit on your cunt. You plunged one finger in and then another as you watched him bite his tongue, careful not to let even a small sound slip out. 

You didn't even have to glance down to know he was hard. It was in the set of his shoulders, the rapid breaths he took. It was the way he sat back on his heels, rocking back and forth to feel some goddamn friction. 

You couldn't have that. 

You placed your foot on his uninjured shoulder and tried to hold him in place. 

“Don't fucking move,” you said, slipping a second finger inside yourself ad you picked up the pace. Your hips bucked ad you watched him watch your cunt, paying attention to every twitch you made, every moan, breath, gasp, and shudder. 

“I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna- shit! Shit-” 

You came with a spurt, squirting your cum across his face as he leaned closer, desperate to taste you. You grabbed his hair and forced him backwards though, grabbing the two toys beside you as you dropped down to the floor. 

“You're not touching my cunt today, Spencer, not even for a taste. You're not touching anything today.”

You pulled his cock free from his pants and spat on it, not bothering to touch it properly before pushing the cock ring onto him and pressing the on button. 

In a minute he was a moaning mess and you smiled at the painful pleasure disrupting his features. 

“Eyes open, Spencer, you have to keep watching.” 

You kept your eyes locked with his, his mouth open wide in a silent moan as he tried not to cum, desperate to hold out for you as long as he could. 

You climbed back onto your bed and spread your legs again, this time accompanied by a translucent plastic cock. You teased your hole for a few seconds, grabbing Spencer's attention before pushing it in. 

His eyes were stormy as he watched you fuck yourself with your old companion. You hadn't used it in a while, basically since you'd started fucking Spencer. He had rules, and one of them was that you couldn't use the dildo without his permission. He'd never given permission.

The look on his face now was worth whatever punishment he'd had out in the future, a mixture of anger and pathetic arousal, his eyes never leaving your cunt even as his own dick started spurting.

He came quickly, splashing up his shirt, ruining his pants. 

You left him there like that, though, even as he winced from the overstimulation. 

He didn't make a sound still, even as his dick got hard again almost immediately after deflating the first time.

“Look at what a mess you made. You're such a little pervert that you just came all over your shirt and pants. I hope you bought a spare, Spencer.” 

His fight was gone as he looked at you again, only lust left as he panted and writhed beneath you. 

You kept riding the dildo, burying It between pillows so you could ride it easier without needing to hold it. 

He watched transfixed as his cock twitched again, vibrating still right on his balls. 

“Tell me how good it feels, Spencer.’

“Hurts… Y/N, so good…. it hurts.”

You smiled down at him and kept asking him questions, knowing he'd never be able to stay quiet now. 

“Do you want to cum again?” 

“Fuck…yes, please, Y/N, please.”

“Do you want to cum all over yourself one more time?”

“N-No… messy, want to cum…in you.”

“What a shame, Spencer, but that isn't allowed. I won't let you cum in me if you're going to try to take a bullet in the field.”

“Y/N… p-please,” he whined, and you heard his voice break, hips thrusting up into the air now as he watched you. 

“No. You're going to cum on yourself until you promise not to do it again.”

He shook his head, closing his eyes as he tried to resist cumming for a second time, so out of control. “Please-” 

“You can do it. Promise me.” 

“Y/N, p-please let me cum” he moaned again, his hands pulling at the restraints so he could get this infernal cock ring off of him and bury himself inside of you. 

But it was too late, and his second orgssm stretched out longer than the one before. 

You'd leaned in so close you'd caught a drop of cum on your face, but most of it pooled on him instead. He collapses backwards, his cum coating his stomach and chest, his shirt going translucent in places as the ring kept buzzing. 

His moans were loud now, and immediately, he knew it was too much to wish for round three. 

“I promise! Y/N, I promise, please fuck, I promise.”

You quickly fell to the floor, turning off the cock ring and slipping it off as you kissed him tenderly, thanking him and praising him for doing such a good job for you. 

You rolled him onto his side and removed the handcuffs, immediately pulling them into your lap and massaging them, feeling a bit guilty about the red marks. 

“Spencer?” You asked after a few moments when he seemed to have regained his breath and his senses. 

“Mmm?” 

“We should get you in bed. You need to rest.” 

He nodded and weakly sat himself up, falling into bed beside you. He threw the dildo across the room and nuzzled himself into you, head buried between your breasts. 

You pulled away and came back with a wash cloth, stripping his shirt and pants and cleaning the cum off him as best you could so he could sleep comfortably. 

“I prefer when you do that with your mouth, you know?” He joked, and you playfully hit his leg. He couldn't still be thinking about sex after that. 

But he was. As careful as you were to not overstimulate him again, his cock still rose again, and he pushed your hands away, pulling you up to him. 

“I came twice, but you only did it once,” he whispered between kisses. 

“It seems like we need to get even.”

With that, you knew that your turn being in charge was over, and he was the leader now.

"But only if you beg for it," you smirked, looking up at him, but he easily flipped you over, pushing you up so you were kneeling on the sheets above him again, him undernesth you. 

You happily followed him as he pulled your dripping core over his mouth, and he pulled you in for one last taste, begging you for forgiveness with his tongue again and again.

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug's interpretations on various 'Bad Batch' characters

So, it turns out my neighbor Doug, who lives next to me, is a MASSIVE Star Wars nerd. Hooray! Found this out earlier during a snow storm. He was thrilled when he found out my kids and I watch this show together, and had some...brilliant...insights on how he interprets the show. I'll be dropping some of the wildest descriptions here from time to time.

This was months ago, but damn it, it was so wild how this chubby Cajun Boomer described the show. I'm going to drop some of his best gems that he's texted me since January:

Crosshair: "So that there's Daddy Warcrimes. All you need to know is he lives on beer and Slim Jims, has more guns then Jesus got faith, and that he does your mom on the weekends, and then you thank him for his service."

Hunter: "Aw man, we got Rambo up in this place. Daddy Rambo. He looks like he's got some hot wife with a huge butt who makes amazing biscuits, but he only showers on the weekends for reasons he won't tell you."

Wrecker: "I know, I KNOW, he's got some cool Star Wars name, but in my head, he's Julio. He looks like a Julio, ya know? Every Julio's been the nicest guy with a truck and a million friends. I swear. I bet he's a contractor and lays pipe like you wouldn't believe." ::winks::

Tech: "Hm, yeah, I know him. That's Ryan-from-Accounting, somebody's hipster dad. You know, everyone knows a Ryan who works in accounting, he's quiet, only drinks IPAs, and has a bitch wife named Laura who drives a Kia and is always yelling at him. Poor man. I hope Julio saves him from his bitch wife Laura."*

Echo: "Eh, Toaster Strudel. Homeboy looks like his daddy had an affair with a convection oven on shore leave and forgot to pay child support."

Omega: "Little Orphan Blondie. I hope she gets real parents or something besides those freaky alien things running the mall on the ocean."**

Admiral Rampart: "I hate this smarmy jack-ass already. He looks like my asshole nephew who got some fancy degree but can't keep a job in corporate because he's such a little ass, he talks down to the janitors and always leaves at 2 pm 'to beat traffic'. He's MBA-Rob."

*=I can't emphasize the vitriol Doug had in his voice when describing 'bitch wife named Laura'. I am so deeply concerned for Ryan-from-Accounting, wherever he is.

**= 'The mall on the ocean' describing Tipoca City sent me. That is how I refer to it now.

[parappaadventure2q-a]

READ: @alex-silli-art-corner

tw: suicide, abuse

I'll start this callout by saying that most evidence has been deleted long ago. There is no way to recover most of it, but if I have found any more, I'll add them to this post later. My friendship with him/how it ended.

It started in March of 2024.

Alex had been a member of a discord server, and had a tumblr account where he answered asks as Katy Kat. (Keep this in mind, as sometimes he will be shown as Katy Kat rather than Alex) He then asked for a vent channel to be created in the discord, where he would post frequently about how he was going to kill himself. (this is important later)

He started to DM me about him killing himself, so I started to support him. He would then message me about normal stuff, with him telling me he was suicidal every now and then. I talked with him, because every time I didn't talk to him, he would say i'm ignoring him on purpose.

Around that time, someone else in the server was banned for drawing CP of him and Alex. (both him and Alex were minors at the time.) Everyone in the server told Alex that this person was not a good influence on him, but he ignored us.

As it turns out, he did not cut off this person, (the name that's in blue) and kept being in a relationship with them.

This would continue for a long time. Alex would tell me he would kill himself, I would try to talk him out of it, and he would be fine the next day.

He said he had epilepsy, but those claims are unconfirmed as he has watched the Um Jammer Lammy cutscenes multiple times, which have flashing lights most of the time. If I remember correctly, he would use this to guilt us even more, with us not even being allowed to send any gifs. That would be understandable, if he didn't refuse to turn on Discord's accessibility feature that pauses gifs.

In his Katy Kat ask blog, he drew a lot of gore of Katy Kat. Some of these are deleted, but you can still find some on his account of Katy missing an eye, with bruises and bandages on her. I am not okay with gore, but I kept talking to him because he was suicidal.

All of my friends cut him off though, except for a stray few who I assume didn't know what he did.

When I cut him off:

About a month ago if I can remember, one of my friends showed me screenshots of Alex saying that one of his suicide attempts was a lie. He had apparently made a joke about him killing himself, and the two people there were telling him it wasn't funny and to not say that. This screenshot was taken a while back, and I didn't see the convo back then. Seeing this, I decided to cut off Alex entirely, because I couldn't trust if what anything he said was true. On top of that, I looked back at everything he'd done, and decided that I wasn't going to talk to him, ever again. He kept trying to contact me.

I noticed how guilt trippy all of his messages were. In fact, most of the time, he was guilt tripping all of us.

This is his last tumblr message to me before I blocked him.

He kept trying to contact me on other websites, such as Reddit.

I had sent him a message telling him he was in the wrong, and that we would never be friends again. This message was deleted, as he threatened to share it with one of my closest friends.

As for the IP address thing, I had posted this meme to Reddit and Tumblr using a fake copypasta that was a lot of information. It's a meme about leaking someones info, but all of this isn't real. It's taken from a copypasta website. In fact, it's this one.

Alex interpreted this as me posting his IP address publically, something I would never do, (yet as you read, it's something he would do to someone else.)

I did not, and will not post someone's IP address publicly. Yet he thought I posted his, even though it isn't hard to look at your own address, and compare it to this meme.

What caused me to make this post.

This happened just today. I was sent an ask clearly written by Alex containing my personal information to me.

Alex. If you're reading this, which I know you are. This wasn't okay. You're putting my life in danger. You're putting other's lives in danger. You're putting my family's life in danger. Why would I want to be friends with a guilt tripper?

Why would I want to be friends with someone who leaks other's information?

Why would I want to be friends with someone who draws gore of my favorite characters?

Why would I want to be friends with a liar?

None of this is okay. You were, and still are, the worst thing that's happened to me.

You don't deserve happiness.

I ask anyone who's been affected by him, to please speak up. Don't sit there in silence like you have all this time. I know he's done awful things to you. Please, if you can, tell me what he's done to you. Nobody should have to go through what he's put me through, and I'm sure that he's done something similar to you.

Sorry for being a bit rude to him in this post, but I don't care.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt XIV good omens season 2 (still not traumatic) episode 2

Here we go. It might not have been traumatic, but it has made me utterly in love with a fictional character. Great.

While everyone runs around between episode 1 and 2 to use the loo or fetch emotional support fruit, in preparation for my inevitable gay panic for Crowley, I eat an emotional support banana as the intro sequence plays.

I realise too late that bananas remind me of fellatio.

The episode begins. There are incoherent screams of BILDADDY through the chat. The phrase religious fervour and ecstasy comes to mind. I do not say it.

God and Satan are betting on a poor bloke so his goats and kids are going to be dead, Crowley has a permit to wreak havoc, Aziraphale is scandalised.

Gabriel's angel hair is very Lord Farquaad. Everyone agrees.

Jimbriel is determined to make his new dad proud, and rearranges all the books in alphabetical order of the first letter of the first sentence. Aziraphale struggles to compliment him.

CROWLEY LIVES IN THE BENTLEY. I'M READY TO RIP THROUGH REALITY'S FABRIC TO GIVE THAT IMMORTAL SOME LOVE AND AFFECTION. AND OF COURSE HE STILL KEEPS ALL HIS PLANTS AND HAS THEM IN THE BACK. @neil-gaiman WHY MUST YOU CAREFULLY CRAFT BEAUTY THAT BREAKS ME.

Anyway.

NO NOT ANYWAY I'M STILL RAGING BUT WE HAVE A SUMMARY TO DO AND I'M A FUCKING PROFESSIONAL GODDAMN IT.

Angels are assholes. Jimbriel is very supportive bookseller's son.

The shit-job subtlety attempt last episode was very powerful because TOGETHER THEY ARE STRONGER! *unicorn music*

Aziraphale strokes Crowley's chest. The fandom sobs.

Crowley suggests getting humans wet to make them 'vavoom' and the apple falls from my slack jaw mid bite.

Aziraphale and Crowley are shit at interpreting human media.

Job storyline. If I open my mouth I'll start scream-crying about how Crowley didn't even kill the goats. He had both heaven and hell's permission, orders from God and Satan, and he didn't even kill the goats. Anyway no we're not doing this now thanks.

Crowley introduces Aziraphale to food. Aziraphale goes ham on the ox rib while Crowley has a little spring awakening about his kinks. I eat my other emotional support banana in honour of the blowjob angles.

Crowley didn't even want to reveal that he'd saved the goats to Aziraphale even though Aziraphale was looking at him with betrayal, because it was for the goats and he wanted to-

Sorry. I'm so fucking normal about goats.

David Tennant and his son are having a HECK of a time.

All Crowley wanted to do was ask questions and christ if he isn't angelic who is he put goats' safety over his-

Bildaddy is the best cobbler and obstetrician. Gabriel is an idiot.

Back in actual time, Crowley gives up on Aziraphale mid-flashback and they saunter off to facilitate some lesbian romancing.

OUR BOOKSHOP. OUR CAR. PLENTY OF USE.

Boundaries, Aziraphale, please. Someone reminds us that the Bentley is all Crowley has left. I fill with preternatural RAGE again.

Aziraphale poor baby has a crisis over betraying heaven. Crowley comforts him even though Crowley fell so every defence of heaven is an attack to himself. I'm totally normal and start eating my emotional support kiwi.

Still eating my emotional support kiwi when the episode ends. Crowley says Aziraphale is too pure and angelic looking to be a demon which means that she doesn't see how pure and angelic she was while making the stars, she thinks she was marked in some way, imperfect. It is okay for her to fall, not Aziraphale.

Anyway yes summary all done.

BUT THE GOATS. CROWLEY DEFIED HEAVEN AND HELL FOR GOATS. AND-

END END THE SUMMARY NOW.

[percheduphere]

It troubles me when fans find Loki in his own tv series "out of character". Since the first Thor movie, Loki has shown a certain sweetness, protectiveness, and level-headedness that was overcome and eventually self-suppressed by rage and tragedy. He didn't have an environment in which he could thrive and, in Frigga's words, succeed at being who he truly is.

Loki desperately needed a support system outside his immediate family. That support system simply couldn't have been built on Asgard because of:

1. Odin's political machinations, including the intentional creation of an environment rife with sibling rivalry and blatant favoritism.

2. The racist if not xenophobic views of Asgardians.

3. The inherent masculine-dominant, warrior society culture of Asgard.

To break Loki out of his self-destructive patterns, it took the empathy of 1 brainwashed and memory-wiped TVA analyst to rightly recognize that Loki as a person has incredible potential and that he could actively do something about it. That Mobius uses this reasoning for the advantage of the TVA (then under HWR's helm) is a plot point I'll discuss later, but the fact still stands: Loki was given a second chance to be who he really is because of the choice Mobius made to intervene. Loki would have been pruned before he would have had the opportunity to meet Sylvie, B-15, Casey, and OB. This is fact.

Mobius literally drops everything--the case he's actively investigating--to intervene. The fact a minuteman immediately reports the variant of Loki he is most interested in has been taken into custody suggests that Mobius has been planning this intervention for some time.

Some fans hate Mobius for his treatment of Loki in the first episode. It is, indeed, manipulative, condescending, and to a certain extent, emotionally abusive. I'm not denying any of this, but from a narrative perspective, Mobius, to be a fully well-rounded character, necessarily must have his own flaws and personal conflicts to battle. Loki's evolution as a character, and thus his positive impact on others, would be missing an emotional beat of mutual reciprocation otherwise. That emotional beat pays off in every episode of S2, culminating in the final scene of the final episode. This is to say nothing of the likelihood that Loki would not have been receptive to any form of gentleness at that point in time to begin with.

Crucially, Mobius gets Loki to admit that his villainous persona is exactly that: an illusion constructed in a bid for control. Some viewers might interpret this scene as a shortcut for getting Loki to behave "out of character" by S1E2, but Thor 2 proves otherwise:

This scene with Thor demonstrates that Loki has a high pain tolerance and is adept at hiding pain. His need to mask his vulnerability, and how that vulnerability is intrinsically tied with the misplaced shame of who he is, resonates deeply with queer, people of color, immigrant, colonized, and adopted fans, many of whom have intersectional lived experiences (including myself). I believe it is for this reason that so many of us are desperate for blatant representation in mainstream entertainment, and to shame us for the sin of hoping is disturbing.

But I digress. Frigga, Thor, and now Mobius are among the few who can see through Loki's deception. That deception has the unfortunate effect of hurting not only innocent civillians but his loved ones and himself (closeting, internalized racism).

Once Loki is able to drop that persona through admission, however, he is able to relax and be himself in the TVA. And in being himself, Loki is consequently able to love himself, which manifests through loving Sylvie. S1 shows Loki holding her up on a romantic pedestal: he chases after her, he sings a song for her, he wants her to be okay. He loves her, yes, and though it appears she does not reciprocate (in my opinion, your mileage might vary), Sylvie does love Loki enough back to buy him a drink and counsel him about what he really wants. This scene is critical in Loki's development in the same way Mobius sheds light on his potential to be whoever he wants.

Both Mobius and Sylvie are integral for Loki to arrive at his turning point, his ultimate sacrifice. Loki loves Sylvie. He therefore chooses to not kill her. Killing her, moreover, would not solve the issue of free will. Sylvie is right in believing free will, and thus the multiverse, is right and necessary. Sylvie's moral question and Loki sparing her life, answers Mobius's belief that Loki can be whoever he wants.

On the other side of this coin, watching Mobius in the final scene, hearing Mobius whisper, "Let time pass..." answers Sylvie's question of what Loki wants, and what he want more deeply than not being alone is for his friends, most especially Mobius (whom he also loves and cares for most, to LIVE.

The series ends with only 2 characters heartbroken with the outcome of Loki's heroism, which Mobius knew existed within him from the beginning. He saw those little but important moments: Loki comforting his brother, Loki protecting Jane, Loki giving up his life to buy Thor time, and so much more, he saw and he knew Frigga's words were right.

[feefymo]

The Rorchach Effect - Part 1

Jimmy Darling x fem! reader - NSFW • MDNI word count: 2757 author's notes: it was like a multiple birth but here we are. This is my very first attempt of a fanfiction (and it's not written in my native language) but I worked a lot on it and I hope you enjoy it. I tried to keep It simple. After mulling it over I chose to divide the fic in two parts and yes: the smut is in the second part! It's not proofread because I'm a kamikaze, yes. Little curiosity: I was partly inspired by Saltburn and this soundtrack. What else? I'll leave you to read! Be kind, pleaseee! My hashtag is #ficfymo ! summary: Elsa threw a party for Jimmy's birthday but no one knows where he ended up. Fem! Reader POV. warnings: mention of violence, and blood. I think that's it, for now. https://open.spotify.com/intl-it/track/6Huqy9WdEE3rMazEQgajn2?si=2105621ac0044260

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome.

I'm the one they call the Rorschach Woman; my real name is not important.

Do any of you know what vitiligo is? Vitiligo is a disease but in the maternal arms of Elsa Mars, nothing is bad. None of her adopted children are sick: we all have a gift, don't we, Elsa? I had a boundless love for ballet, I was busily studying psychiatry, I was a "prodigy girl" or, at least, I thought I was. Then, the vitiligo showed up. What I thought was my downfall, according to Elsa, represented the true miracle. I gave up dancing; I gave up on my dream of becoming a researcher. I lost the support of my real parents because my appearance had changed but hey! Now I have my own number in Elsa Mars Freak Show. I'm here to enchant you. To let you read the spots on my face. I'm here to interpret your minds. This is my personal test of Rorschach, offered to you, kind audience. A few dollars and you can study me, myself every night but not every night are like this. Tonight I want to tell you a story 'cause today is my best friend's birthday. The brother I've chosen. Tonight, a big party was thrown for him but there's no trace of him. Where did you go, Jimmy Darling?

Let's take a step back.

I've never seen the camp so packed. Never. If all these people showed up for every show, each of us would be filthy rich. I don't understand how it is possible and yet, Elsa must have performed one of her magics. She says she consider Jimmy her blood, so she claimed to organize everything herself. She chose a party theme: "Normal People". She call it "satire", a mockery towards those who are truly considered normal. Some of us believed her, others adapted to avoid getting into trouble. The truth is that, by disguising ourselves according to the canons, we appear even less credible. Grotesque. Ridicolous. I couldn't resist a subtle provocation, so I made my complexion uniform but with the white of French mimes. Like a pierrot. Totally painted in white, I wander around in a champagne dress. I look like a crazy moth until I find the flame. That flame is Jimmy himself, surrounded by a myriad of strangers who urge him to blow out the candles.

- Happy birthday… uhm… -

- Happy birt… Joseph? -

- Jack? John? -

- I think it's Jimmy. -

- Jimmy? Are you sure? -

- JIMMY! -

The music does not cover the murmurs nor the embarrassment that comes down like a curtain. I try to push and elbow to reach my best friend but I can't. He's standing there, nerves to edge: he looks around, clenching his teeth. He seems lost while he's trying to put an unconvinced smile on his Peter Pan face. Once the candles have been blown out, Jimmy disappears in the general disinterest. Nobody cares, the party continues as if nothing had happened, fueling an atmosphere that has nothing normal about it. It's something like a mesmerizing nightmare in the suffused lights that Elsa had placed everywhere. A luminous design that even turns into a labyrinth in the wild meadow near the main event. It should be a modern fairy tale for the privileged who want to escape from the routine. For us, scum, it's an illusion. A utopia, a warning of what we will never achieve but I don't give a fucking damn. Sincerely. If I'm still here it's not because of Elsa nor because I truly appreciate her Cabinet Of Curiosities. I'm still here for my "acquired family" and for the boy who should be the protagonist of the evening which no one cares about.

Driven by the chaos, I search for familiar faces in the dim light until I come across Ethel; she shaved her chin. She is holding a plate with a slice of cake that she has prepared herself and she's standing in the dancing crowd, with a worried and resigned look. We both knows who the cake is for: Ethel has seen his son, maybe talked to him but she won't chase him. I prefer to not disturb her but I don't give up: retreating into a slit of darkness I collide with someone and jump perhaps exaggeratedly. Paul emerges from the darkness, rubbing his side with a grimace. He wears a hideous, gigantic suit to disguise his condition. It makes it look like a sad parallelepiped. Doctor Frankenstein's Creature.

-Paul, sorry! Did I hurt you?! -

-Nah, no biggies! What about you? You're nervous, what's happening? -

-Well, uh, I'm… have you seen Jimmy? I've been looking for him all night. -

- First I saw him with a brunette, she was dragging him towards El-'s tent… hey, that's the one over there! -

But the brunette is not in Jimmy's company: laughing rudely with her friends, she passes by me in a sweet-smelling cloud of glitters. She carries with her a kind of old oil lantern lit on a gesture that makes my blood run cold: cheeky, she twirls a battered glove on her head and, in one breath of Pink Lady, she's already too far away. Even though I would like to, I'm not going to confront her and complicate things because I prefer to follow her steps backwards. An alarm screams wildly inside me and I have to comply with it by launching myself out of the tent. The humidity of the night sticks to my skin, kneading the white paint that I thought was dry. I'm a mess inside and out but it doesn't matter at all.

- JIMMY! - I call, shout and run. I run, run, run like a fugitive. A voice whispers the worst to me and maybe I'm crazy but I can't help it. - JIMMY! - I keep repeating myself but he doesn't answer. The throat burns, the feet go by themselves, swaying dangerously on the heels. I didn't even realize I had ventured onto the lawn until I felt tickles on my ankles. Fräulain Elsa's illuminations invite me to follow their aura like drunken fireflies and I, disaffected, accept. I'm not afraid that Jimmy is dead but, worse, that he's gone. That he left me alone, leaving suddenly and without me. He promised me that if we ever succeeded, we would leave together and one suitcase would be enough to move to Europe. He always kept his promises, he…

I stop, crystallized in the heaviness of the evening. I hear noises scattered throughout the maze of light bulbs: they come from a specific point but they echo and bounce in the air. It sounds like the clumsy moan of an animal that it would be better not to get close to but I obstinately follow the source to the center of the maze. Once I reach my destination I jump somewhere between horror and relief, putting a hand to my mouth so as not to be discovered immediately. Sitting on the ground is Jimmy Darling. Hunched over, he turns his back to me and fiddles with something I don't understand. He is surrounded by objects, some of which I cannot distinguish. There are a few bottles including one of vermouth still sealed, half a lemon, a shirt reduced to a pile of wrinkles in Granada Green, the other glove specially sewn for the party. Some salt, perhaps? The worst aspect, the most dramatic touch, is a pinata hanging over his skull. A lobster-shaped pinata. As I try to figure out whether or not I'm awake, a low, deep growl forces its way into Jimmy's lungs, flaying them with increasing violence. The growl is quickly turning into the pained cry of an already wounded beast. I won't respect his privacy any longer, so I walk over to him and kneel before him.

- JIMMY! JIM, STOP IT! STOP, DAMMIT! - Jimmy was on the verge of cutting off his left hand with a rusty knife but my arrival ruined his plans. He doesn't recognize me right away and his immediate reaction is to turn against me. He is much, much stronger than me but, even if he vehemently chases me away, I attack again in what turns into a blind scuffle. The moment Jim realizes it's really me, he drops his guard groggily. He is no less upset, nor willing to suddenly change his mind but he grabs me by the elbows and pushes me away roughly so that I don't end up hurting myself. Crawling on the ground, he steps back before pulling himself up and staggering but he isn't drunk. He's been drinking but it's not the alcohol that shakes him like this: I recognize the difference, also because I've never seen him in this state. In his big good eyes there is no freshly roasted coffee but boiling petrolium. His expression, a cracked mask of hatred and at the same time authentic desperation, reduced to its core. He trembles in his sweat-soaked undershirt and makes a gesture that he has never deemed necessary in front of me. He hides his hands, trying in vain to put them in his back pockets, like a child caught red-handed. Does he feel reassured by my presence? Is he bothered by it? He's gasping.

Jimmy what… what are you doing? Why?! - I ask him in tears, advancing slowly on my knees. - NO! - he spits out a scream, trying to freeze me in place. - Please… Y/N, no. Enough. That's enough. - I shake my head, I'm confused and I rub my now soaked cheeks. Gray due to the white mixing with the black of the mascara.

- What are you talking about, pleas st-… -

- SHE SCREAMED, Y/N! SHE SCREAMED IN GENUINE TERROR, I TELL YOU!-

- BUT WHO, JAMES?! FOR GOD'S SAKE, WHO?! -

He hates it when I call him James but that seems strangely to appease him. He stares at me like a madman and, in silence, seems to wonder how it is possible that I don't know the circumstances of his delirium but, gradually, lucidity returns and, at the same time, an atrocious sadness. - That… oh, fuck. She was one of the very few people to smile at me and make me sincere wishes. Did she really want to spend time with me… did I fall for it like an idiot? I do not know. It was her! She chose it, I warned her but… - while Jimmy tries to explain, he forgets to hide from me and gesticulates, so I notice a burn on the hand that he was seriously about to cut off. The living flesh fades from red to the paleness of the bladder. Grains of not completely dissolved salt outline the surface like grotesque lace. He must have poured it in. - She took off my glove, alluding to my skills as a pilot but then a heartbreaking scream and… and… I had to let it go. Instead, I tried to calm her down but she…how the fuck is that possible? How did she not know I'm a fucking freak? It was written all over the damn thing! But she knew it. She knew it very well. My attentions were the perfect excuse to defend herself. She called me a monster, a half-man, an abomination and so on, you know, what's new? But then… she burned me with her fucking lantern. You convince yourself that you have a zest, that you are used to it and yet it's not true. And, as with Meep, the day comes when insults are no longer enough. - he doesn't have the courage to look at me but what he says is intimate. Devastating. Shareable. - The bar of wickedness is raised. Of course! That girl wasn't defending herself. She squirted oil on me once, twice, three times. She was torturing me, only stopped because I raised my arms and… the fear came back. She's gone. -

I'm annihilated. Annihilated by what I see and hear, I undergo the hypnosis of Jimmy's pain which soon becomes mine too. His irises are diluted by a sea of ​​tears; suffering makes him unfairly wonderful. In the meantime I have reached him and, from the bottom of my position, I stare at him without embarrassment. I wrap one arm around his knees while the other grabs his good hand and places it on the back of my neck. He wants to take it away, he puts up a feeble resistance but he hears me sobbing and stops immediately. - Yes, Jimmy: her wish was to hurt you. This isn't a party, it's a visit to the slaughterhouse and we are the pigs. As always. - now I hold him with both arms, rubbing my face between his knees. The fabric of his trousers becomes stained white make-up until my skin is almost clean. I raise my head. My face's a palette used between stains that can be washed away and stains that my skin retains.

- Look at me. Are you looking at me? -

- I am. - he says, with the tone of someone who absolutely has to convince you. He hasn't noticed but he's stroking my hair. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth turned down. -The kindness with which you caress me has never belonged to anyone among the few who have touched me. Not even my mother. - I'm deadly serious. I look at him with watery eyes but it's his tear that rains down my forehead. - Not even to myself. - because I mistreated myself, inflicted physical pain and consequent signatures but he… - If those are really claws, everyone should have them. Maybe they would learn what kindness is. - if I wasn't the one talking to him, he wouldn't believe me. He would mock me, it would be bitter and biting. Instead he fights with the truth that I offer him and stares at me dazed. Almost angry, hunted. The problem is that he believes me, so he picks me up and it's as if he's looking at me for the very first time. His forehead is damp with sweat, so I free his unruly curls before rummaging through my clutch bag. I make sure he follows my gestures and I take out a box of matches: I choose one and place it under the perfect curve of his nose. He flinches but stays as I light the end and, solemnly, set the piñata on fire. While the papier-mâché lobster is devoured by the flames, little by little, melted sweets and chocolate perish in the meadow. Neither of us needs to introduce what's about to happen: just as I stand on tiptoe, he lowers his disheveled head and the tips of our noses meet. It's the last chance to retract before the soft "m" of his upper lip meets my lower lip, dehydrated from makeup. In the first friction there is the disbelief of all the years in which we have not allowed ourselves and then, surrounded by the smell of burning, the kiss intensifies in an unstoppable crescendo. Jimmy wraps his bare arms around my body with the eagerness of someone who must survive. For my part, I let out a moan and cling to his shoulder blades: I realize what I wanted and how much I needed to be satisfied. Jimmy and I share the thrill of the kiss, so much so that he murmurs something incomprehensible against my teeth before parting them with his tongue and searching for mine. He holds my head as if I were water and he was drinking and he doesn't care about the cosmetic taste I have on; his lips turn pale. He slides down my neck without any self-control and I understand that he would take me here, right now. In the midst of the fire. - Wait. - I try to stop him with a deafening smooch. We are out of breath and the air is irrespirable but he stares at me with an imploring look. - How much longer? - he plead. I feel his blood vibrate under his golden skin, between the vertebrae of his broad back. - You have to trust me: I have an idea. - The smoke screen rises towards the sky and us. We… dissolve in the middle.

taglist: @taintandviolent @silverzoomies @doll3tt33 @wh0re43van @fear-is-truth + PLEASE, If you want to be added or I forgot someone, let me know!

[agender-witchery]

I've noped out of the PM-sphere for a bit, is project moon still morally bankrupt?

That depends on your interpretation of what they've done since. Project Moon's official story is that VellMori left of her own accord, didn't want attention, and that they massively flubbed their announcement. Now, I don't fully believe that, but I'll take them at their word for a second and say that nothing should have gotten to a point of VellMori feeling the need to leave of her own accord, they absolutely could have taken steps to protect her, and Watson too.

That said, it's a thing that happened, and past the like... first week? She wasn't going to return even if they gave her the option. No sane person would. Have they done anything reprehensible since then? Not to my knowledge. Are they a company I will unconditionally support? Not anymore.

But are they a company that's worse than like, basically every other games company I give money to, with the sole exception of maybe Larian? No, not really. It absolutely shouldn't be the case, but unfortunately "fired a woman for being a feminist" is not a uniquely terrible thing in the games industry, and while I theoretically could only purchase video games from indie developers with no controversies, first off Factorio was made by an indie developer with no controversies until they weren't, Minecraft was made by an indie developer with no controversies until they weren't, like I'm not gonna escape shitty people making games.

Ultimately, Kim Jihoon is a bad person who makes good art and this wouldn't be the first and probably won't be the last time I enjoy something like that. I just also take care to acknowledge that he did a shitty thing and not brush that under the rug for my own comfort.

So like, I don't know if they have or have not atoned for their sins because the people who play their games are not the people they have an obligation to in that scenario, but I do know that they haven't caused any further public controversies.

[mclennonlgbt]

Riding to Vanity Fair

I know this song has been on the McLennon songs list for a long time, but I recently listened to it again and was struck by how much it is about John. And what a different perspective Paul takes here. He usually sang how much he loved John, and here he reveals his frustration, possibly in reference to the conflict from the 1970s.

The first verse goes:

I bit my tongue I never talked too much I tried to be so strong I did my best I used the gentle touch I've done it for so long

which reminds me of this quote:

“I always find myself wanting to excuse John’s behaviour, just because I loved him. It’s like a child, sure he’s a naughty child, but don’t you call my child naughty".

Paul continues singing and decides to stop suppressing his anger and resentment towards the other person:

I'll tell you what I'm gonna do I'll try to take my mind off you And now that you don't need my help I'll use the time to think about myself

which reminds me of:

There’s no hard feelings or anything, but you just don’t hang around with your ex-wife. We’ve completely finished. ’Cos, you know, I’m just not that keen on John after all he’s done. I mean, you can be friendly with someone, and they can shit on you, and you’re just a fool if you keep friends with them. I’m not just going to lie down and let him shit on me again. I think he’s a bit daft, to tell you the truth. I talked to him about the Klein thing, and he’s so misinformed it’s ridiculous.

This excerpt touches me the most:

The definition of friendship Apparently you're to be Showing support for the one that you love And I was open to friendship But you didn't seem to have any to spare While you were riding to Vanity Fair

What the "riding to Vanity Fair" would be? My interpretation is that this is what John was doing during his interview with Jann Wenner in 1970 (later released as Lennon Remembers): belittling Paul's talent, criticizing him for taking the initiative in The Beatles, and presenting himself and Yoko as True, Non-Commercial Artists.

Some people believe that the song is addressed to a woman. I think this is nonsense. Even if we ignore everything I wrote earlier, look at this:

There was a time When every day was young The sun would always shine We sang along When all the songs were sung Believing every line

This "believing every line" could be a reference to John and Paul's communications through music.

I don't think Paul hated or hates John (or vice versa). However, I think he had the right to be angry with him and feel sorry.

[libelelle]

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER. my opinion on Silver is by no means the single correct one nor do i think it should be, do what you do idc. we're all here throwing him at a wall repeatedly for fun

Ok so. whats the point i wanted to make. oh yeah right

SILVER THE HEDGEHOG!!!! FUCK!!!!

his character is so interesting this is a character for sure. im screaming and crying etc etc. the unfortunate part is NO ONE GETS HIM. i see a lot of interpretations that cherry pick his personality and experiences and it just! isnt it! he is a complicated character!

trying to simplify him down to 🥺innocent soft boi🥺 doesn't work, not only cause you're ignoring his DEBUT GAME (NEVER FORGET HE TRIED KILLING SONIC) but also because you just disconnected him from his entire backstory and motivations. i see people making Silver into a "cinnamon roll" guy and it always makes me grimace because... do you know WHY he is clueless. do you know why he doesn't get things or is too trusting or this or that. its because he grew up in the apocalypse alone. he hasn't experienced anything normal or healthy in his entire life. and since these traits, which are used to make him into the innocent cinnamon roll, are a result of growing up in a very abnormal environment, are symptoms of having never been in social situations and never had a normal day-to-day life. this means you can't ignore the OTHER characteristics that result from it. by this i mean hes very independent, very stubborn and aggressively mean (i recommend watching any of Silvers interactions in the Rivals games. he is extremely confrontational and a very good example of the kind of behaviour i'm talking about). but since this doesn't fit the bill for the character that you want him to be, you remove the context. him being clueless has nothing to do with his background. hes anxious cause hes a smol bean, not because hes been drowning in responsibility and trauma for as long as hes been alive. hes kind because hes innocent, not because he chose to be despite it all

"but linnea! what about IDW! hes very innocent in that!" INCORRECT BUZZER. IDW is not the same. i'll admit, the writing isn't always what i want or expect for Silver, but there's something important for you to note here

Silver is ✨Recovering✨

from my perspective at least. what i see is Silver, who has actively been working together with other people for MONTHS. he has friends, a support net, as well as hobbies. these are things he didn't have before, and being with these people, in both calm and hard times, helped him. So what we are seeing isn't the trauma responses, we're seeing the result of being acclimatized into a healthier and safer position. that's why there's a change in behaviour. this doesn't mean hes a soft boy now. AGAIN hes complicated. be careful not to boil him down to a single trait. in IDW we still see moments where he experiences difficulties because of his past. examples include when he met Whisper, Failed Social Interaction and said this:

he struggles with boundaries! of course he does! he's still getting the hang of being around people

then also recently when he came to help Sonic in 58:

he is struggling!! with nothing to focus on! his default is fight fight save the future fight!! he's not used to normal life and that makes him anxious and frustrated, unable to focus on things he cares about, as we see in the future growth comic in the 2022 annual

there are likely more examples but idc. need to finish this post. continuing, Silver is complicated, meaning that even when he is aggressive and tunnel visioning on a task, he has more going on. one thing i fucking lovee LOVE love about Silver is that he has hope. fuck if i were him i think i'd have given up. THOSE horrors? every day? no thanks

Silver feels anguish and frustration and fear. this being said even at his angstiest moments he has hope. you cannot look me in the eye and tell me that Silver fought through every horrible disaster, coming back to a newly devastated world every time and decided to continue with no hope for a better future. he is determined and he has hope, even if he has to fight tooth and nail for it. Usually when i think about Silver and his odd optimism, i go back to '06, when he's having his moral crisis over killing sonic.

"To kill someone to save the world... is that really the right thing to do?"

it would've been understandable if he decided it was the right thing to do, even if sonic was someone who was kind and loved, because that's just how bad the world is. maybe its just me, but the way this thought broke through in spite of his bull headed focus on destroying the iblis trigger speaks to me about his nature as a person. even coming from the bleak world he came from and even with the tunnel vision he had, he still considered this one persons life to be important too.

he is, at heart, a very gentle and kind person. he is, at heart, someone who is strong and who wants to help others. a version of Silver that is sad all the time, unable to see the good in the world (a phenomena i don't see much of thankfully) isn't true to Silver as a character because its missing that core trait to his character, that he wants to help because he cares.

Silver can't be one or the other. one way ignores his background and his trauma, which leaves out important parts of his personality, the other just abandons a very integral part of who he is.

the point really is to say that (slaps roof of Silver) this bad boy can fit so much layers!

[jazzy-man13]

g1 autobots x fem reader

Grrr I'm feeling a little bit silly and had a random burst of inspiration >:3 I'm working on requests, I promise I didn't forget yall!! I'll try to crank a couple of 'em out tomorrow

Reactions to reader coming out as transfem! Can be interpreted as platonic or romantic

Arcee: She's so excited! It's incredibly nice to have another woman around here, considering that she's one of the only fembots on Earth. She'll exclaim that you're "the fem to my femme" every time she gets the chance. If she wasn't already infatuated, she's definitely enamored with you now <33

Absolutely will not tolerate any self-deprecating comments if you're feeling dysphoric- she's your #1 hype girl!

Jazz: He's so chill about it and supportive of you. He uses his holoform to take you out dancing whenever he can, saying that he "needs to show off" his girl friend! Will 100% call you "babygirl" in an affectionate manner from now on.

Hot Rod/Rodimus: He doesn't completely understand, but his spark warms at the way you brighten after coming out and transitioning. He'll do his absolute best to use the right terms for you- sometimes going a little bit overboard with it. He buys you some rather stereotypical "girl" things every now and then- he's doing his best, bless his spark 😭

Bumblebee: He's SO happy for you! Absolutely thrilled to see you start to accept yourself. He'll take you shopping for new clothes if you need them, and he'll giggle and gossip with you about anything and everything fem related as you two learn to navigate your transition <33

Idk I'm just silly 🫡🫠

[zeno-zero]

Avatar's sexuality + gender headcanons:

What motivates me by making this is all thanks to this post! (<- love you op /p). I'll be sharing my own headcanons for all these avatars (excluding Salai, and Gun unfortunately - I don't know these guys that very well despite I already explored their wiki a couple of times TvT). However, there are some headcanons that doesn't exactly revolves around their sexuality and gender, and there could be spoilers as well. So beware of that!!

You can even share yours in reblogs or comment under my post! Happy pride month guys!! <3

Wan

Cis-male, He/Him/His

Bi, on the aro-spec (demiromantic)

Formed a beautiful, emotional bond with Jaya. Despite how different they are in personality departments, Wan has always adored him but has a hard time expressing his endearment towards him [Jaya relates as well].

In their short reunion, when they haven't seen each other for 2 years - Wan stiffened when Jaya hugs him tightly, he grins widely while a red blush slowly creeps in across his face.

They never get to spend time with each other as they used to though. Grief struck him greatly when he starts to bargain, there was so much time yet there's little he can do. There was once a man he knew, loved adored. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

While he does enjoy each company from different genders, he couldn't let his walls down and be completely vulnerable towards them. The slightest attraction is immediately met with suppression, leading the other party be confused towards his nervous and timid demeanor.

He would rather die alone than dragging someone with him in this war he has to fight against. He still hasn't accept that the fact Jaya is gone because of him, because he couldn't save them all in time.

Szeto

Demiboy, He/Him/His

Pan, on the ace-spec (apothisexual)

Known in front of the public's eye for being such a honest man, there are some things he always kept to himself that he couldn't bring those to let it be exposed [he finds it quite embarrassing].

His relationship with Firelord Yosor has always been strictly professional but there were also some unresolved romantic tension between them both, in rare occasions, Szeto would have his clipboard be pressed against his lips nervously while standing close to Yosor, who would rub the back of his neck shyly.

When subtly asking if he ever wants to be in a romantic relationship, he'll respond; "I'll consider it, sure. I wouldn't mind to be with someone who loves me just as I love them as well." with a tiny smile.

..Which is all up for interpretation since he never specified whether his romantic interest can be a man or woman [although, rumor says that the relationship between him and Fire Lord Yosor are so much more, then meets the eye].

But with a well crafted image, and story - he is intriguing as he is mysterious in a way. People can theorize all they want but what they all had in an agreement is that his literature is fantastic.

Yangchen

Cis-female, She/Her/Hers

AroAce (spectrum)

(I am unfortunately not that knowledge about her, so forgive me if all of these are mischaracterizations ToT) While yes, finding Kavik, well, indeed quite attractive - there wasn't a time or the right place to tell him that she loves him.

Uncertainty has always choke her, never the one to be keen in relationships. The thought of being one doesn't disgust her but she couldn't prioritize it, especially her position has people always constantly need her attention.

But Kavik? Her future is unknown, there could be a hassle after a hassle for all she knows but him being in hers - him being there for every step she takes? Him for supporting her on? Him to always have her bring up to her feet?

It would be really lovely, endearing even.

Similarly like Szeto's case, its all up for interpretation. The world only know her as a holy figure, this divine and graceful avatar - Kavik knew the real her. They're the only ones who knew what's their relationship heading towards to, even if it takes so much patience and trust to rebuild again.

Kuruk

Cis-male, He/Him/His

Bi, female lean

Actually, he's quite unsure of himself if he's even bisexual if you considered his up-bringings. However, he does travel and not only learn about the elements but even their culture differences. It took a long time for his mindset to reboot (although the internalized homphobia definitely left a huge impact on him).

But due to his fights against the spirits, spiraling himself in depression, and never has the time to find peace in his later life - not only this dude struggle a lot with his image but can't seem for the life of him if he actually likes men or not. It is left with "I enjoy the company." statement.

He is supportive and understanding of Ummi, who comes out to him as trans (mtf) before they could start dating and held the same love to her as before.

He was about to leave the past behind him, and start a new one with Ummi - he was gonna be grateful, he was gonna be better not only as a man but as the Avatar as well.. He relapsed once she's stripped away from his life, and couldn't be returned back.

He couldn't hug her and lift her off her feet to spin her around happily. So every once in a while, he gets comforted and be embraced by Yangchen who witnessed it all but she couldn't remove the pain that Kuruk still has deep down inside.

Kyoshi

Cis-female, she/her/hers

Bi (canonly), on the ace-spec (demisexual)

(I am not interested in Kyoshi at all, so again with the apology - theres gonna be mischaracterizations 😭) Because of the way she's treated especially while growing up, she never thought she could be loved by someone romantically. I mean, who would love a servant?

At least, not until Yun and Rangi comes to the picture..

And her life as a content servant who wanted to live comfortably morphs into as an Avatar she didn't want to become! Huzzah! /hj <- okay but there was never a day she thought she could be dating someone who not only wishes happiness only for her, not the avatar, but is willing to be by her side no matter what.

She loves Rangi with all of her heart but a part of it wishes that Yun didn't turn out the way he is. She always often visit his grave, and contemplates that things could've been different - there were so many what ifs, there were so many choices that could've been carefully chosen.. She always bring flowers with her, and place it on his grave everytime. She still held love for someone she lost.

In her later life, where Rangi couldn't keep up with her. Kyoshi is there to kiss her knuckles softly, tears rolling down across her face. She is her purpose to keep on living yet she's slowly dying in front of her. She'd spent the rest of her life, thinking about her constantly. Reminiscing the past she has with her. When Koko slowly adapts to become her daughter - she would tell her stories about her and Rangi which makes Koko fully believed that Rangi is her mother as well, just like Kyoshi is towards her.

Roku

Transman, he/him/his

Pansexual

Struggled a lot with gender dysphoria (doesn't help the fact his mind is plague by self-doubts). However, his parents were kind towards him, and doesn't dismiss it as "You're just a kid, it will pass." letting him dress himself masculine, which he finds himself most comfortable in. His journey to become a young man is easy, and its all thanks to his loving parents who were ready to lend an ear to listen carefully about his personal thoughts and doing the best they can to help him (the projection is crazy).

He comes out to Sozin about it, and Sozin is happy for him. Although, he did find it difficult at first since its a new change and there were a couple of accidental slip-ups - its good enough to know that Sozin actually wants Roku to be really comfortable within himself.

But because he is also a young lad, there was too much unresolved romantic tension between them both. The deja vu is insane, at least, for Szeto (who had to keep himself in check everytime Roku is oblivious towards Sozin's flirty tendencies. He was suffering every second of it).

While traveling, and understanding culture differences to not only enhance his bending - he had some couple of hook ups there, and there. Letting himself relax a bit, and savor the moment as he is gently taken care of (mind you, this headcannon alone is coming from someone who is aegosexual lol!!)

Coming back home, with his no-longer low self-esteem - able to finally ask Ta Min out, to which Ta Min agrees ecstatically. Those months of dating each other, Ta Min is the first one to propose and Roku accepts it with a delighted, tearful face. Both partners are fortunate, and proud to be each other's wife and husband.

But oh my gosh, the unresolved romantic tension he had with Sozin is finally resolved when Roku realized that Sozin is down bad for him. That their entire situationship is the sole reason why the 100 year old war started. /j okay, but after everything Roku gone through, he couldn't help but maybe, just maybe, he pondered that there could've been at least another situation where he and Sozin ended in good terms. Firmly gripping the once artifact that is dear to him, is meaningless in Sozin's behalf.

I can't do Aang, and Korra. The headcanons are already established by the canon sources.. So, I'm so sorry for those who are Aang and Korra enjoyers 💔 There is always next time if I can actually think uniquely. Also, this is so LONG oh my gosh 😭😭😭

[statementlou]

Maybe you can help me understand. The LATAM promo content has been great in my opinion in quantity and quality. Louis looks relaxed and his answers show thought, humility and maturity, and with his usual sass and humor. This is the most he has shared of himself since his solo career started.

So it's become a real surprise when I've read a few anons write to blogs saying they don't like the person Louis has become, and they like 1D Louis. Another said that they think his persona has gotten "progressively worse and worse". And I'm like, did you not see the years and years of being pushed aside, of being told he had a bad voice, of no support from radio, of stunts, etc fighting for his career. And did they not watch or read his interviews?? So many interviewers during this past week have complimented Louis.

Louis can never win.

I agree, it can really feel like people are just not actually seeing the same content as we are and it's hard not to feel like some of this is that they AREN'T seeing it, like people go way too much off blogs' (often very wild) interpretations of what Louis says and how he says it rather than just listening to him talk or watching him interact with fans. Or maybe it's that they have been believing in these made up versions of him when he hasn't been around for a minute and now that actual Louis reappears it doesn't match up with those ideas and they feel shocked and upset. But if people are saying he isn't the same as he was in 1D well, it's hard not feel like they were NEVER paying attention and are just talking about the made up image of him that was sold by 1DHQ (or saying they don't like him unless he's twinky and flamboyant.) Louis said he "were a lot sweeter back then" and maybe so but in all the core ways, I think he's just the same as he has always been. If people don't like how that looks now that's their right, but he's not gonna be 19 again and he's fought hard to get to decide for himself what image he wants to project and has said over and over that he won't be going back to the 1D version of that, so maybe go find someone else to follow, IDK. Me, I'll just be over here sitting back and admiring what he's like now. I think he's the same as every time he does promo (charming, chill, funny, introspective and smart and willing to share little glimpses of emotional honesty)! It's been a while since he's done so much promo and with so much content to enjoy just now I hope more people will tune into that rather than interpretations of it and discover that for themselves. I am gonna disagree with you about one thing though: Louis CAN and IS winning, 100%, right now in front of our very fucking eyes!!! So who cares about the haters :)

[hadesoftheladies]

FEMALE MOVIE/TV RECS (PART 7 / YA & COMING OF AGE)

got inspired from a recommendation post so decided to make a list of movies and shows with female-centric stories/female protagonists. since i can't post all of the genres in one post, i'll split it into multiple posts and y'all can save or add to the list as you wish. (disclaimer: i have watched most of these, but i only know about the existence of others. not every movie/show on these lists will be my recommendation. my recommendations will be beneath the list with reasons. also some of these are way better than others in terms of storytelling/performance--which is why i'll list my faves separately):

Common Themes/Tropes:

-Girls fighting with their parents

-Crushes and romance (and love triangles)

-Strong friendships

-Exploring sexuality (most of these have scenes of a sexual nature)

-Finding herself (or learning how to grow up)

-A lot of (oftentimes comedic) blunders

-Enemies/rivals to lovers

-Girls getting up to no good (or girls getting up to good but getting derailed)

ONES I HAVEN'T WATCHED:

Darby and The Dead

Girlhood

Blood & Water

Eighth Grade

I Am Not Okay With This

Skate Kitchen

The Sisterhood of The Travelling Pants

Ladybird

We Are Lady Parts

ONES I'D RECOMMEND

Derry Girls (9/10) (GOATED SHOW!)

Bottoms (9/10) (hilarious and insane in the best ways!)

Paper Girls (7/10) (the chaos that happens when adult you meets preteen you)

Everything Now (8/10) (actually deals with eating disorders appropriately, the most humanizing teen show i've ever seen)

PERSONAL NOTES

The Miseducation of Cameron Post is the more sober version of But I'm A Cheerleader, where two lesbians get sent to conversion therapy camps. I found both entertaining and refreshing, full of nuance and oftentimes clever about the writing. The performances were also quite good.

I remember My First Summer being bittersweet, but I think there was one scene that made me a little antsy (because the girls in this are pretty young). If it was done tastefully is better left interpreted by those who decide to watch it.

Do Revenge is a whole bag of everything. Mean Girls meets Bottoms. Funny, cruel and unhinged (yet also a little sweet). It was overall fun stuff.

Skate Kitchen has a spin-off show by HBO called Betty.

I barely remember the one episode of Blood & Water I watched, but I know there were things I found to raunchy too be tasteful, yet there was also quite a bit that was still pretty solid and sweet. Not sure I can recommend because I don't know enough except it's about sisters.

If you like sweet and simple teen love stories, Rafiki and The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love are right up your alley.

I only watched one season of Never Have I Ever to emotionally support my sister who had started it. I have never felt such visceral second-hand embarrassment in my LIFE.

First Kill is Romeo and Juliet with vampires and monster hunters. I liked the actors/actresses but you can tell that the budget for this show wasn't that big. If you like Warrior Nun, though, you may like First Kill.