#and there is certainly valid stuff to call him out for but that is not nearly the info they are running with

[discoblocks]

FUCK my irls refuse to bodyshame dream but are absolutely taking this opportunity to bring up his past shit and act like he’s the scum of the earth fuck my life

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I know it would probably bring a lot of hate comments but I am begging you to roast the hazbin character designs because I'd love to have someone properly articulate why they don't work so I could send it to people who won't believe me when I tell them. 🫠 Understandable if you don't want to get into it though.

I don't think there's that much there to roast, honestly?

Those designs are clearly an extremely specific stylistic choice, and because that style is consistent throughout the show, it ultimately feels coherent with itself.

There are trade-offs being made. Because Hazbin's design style is SO stylized and so heavy on decoration and detailing, because it puts a lot of emphasis on costuming, it isn't as good at communicating specific character storytelling as a more grounded style could be (it's kind of the same tradeoff that stuff like Genshin Impact makes).

Like, why does Sir Pentious' hat have an eye and a mouth on it that makes its own expressions? Apparently not for very much reason at all, except that Pentious has a bit of an eyes-motif going on in his design and it was one more place to put an extra eye. And that's a valid criticism of his design, but also the entire show is designed like that, so frankly it would be weirder and more out of place if his design alone didn't have that kind of overelaborate decoration going on.

It does create a situation where I have a hard time "reading" the character designs sometimes. For example, Vox, Alastor and Pentious all wear a similar style of suit with upwards-turned shoulders, butterflies and pinstripes. Now, am I meant to read that as Vox imitating Alastor due to his crippling need to replace and outdo him, and Pentious imitating the style of powerful Overlords because he thinks that possessing their level of power will finally give him relief from his paranoia and self-loathing?

Or is it just a design fixation of the creator who keeps putting their characters in suits because that's just what they like? I can't really be sure, because sometimes design elements are used to intentionally tell stories about how characters relate to themselves, their world and one another, but plenty of other times designs look the way they do Because Of Vibes.

But again, that lack of clarity is clearly an intentional trade-off - and the benefit of that trade-off is a design style that is extremely varied, wild, expressive and memorable. Hazbin Hotel seems like a very easy show to draw fanart of, and a very fun show to draw fanart of. Those designs (especially the hyper-expressive faces) are begging to be the subjects of traumatic headcanons, unbearably cotton-candy soft fluff fantasies and weird, taboo, homoerotic power dynamics. Slaps roof of character design, this bad boy can express so much vicarious emotional intensity.

It's very exuberant, very excited about itself and very self-indulgent, it's a style that prioritizes visual impact and visual interest over readability (something which the animators of the show navigate with real skill, props to them) and individual aesthetics over worldbuilding.

And I don't blame anyone for being turned off by that (I certainly was the first time I started seeing those designs going around), but I would struggle to call the show's designs "bad" when they are clearly achieving exactly what they want to achieve.

I have some criticisms, especially re: how the show treats skinny bodies as an unquestioned, desirable default, and employs fatness as a means of alienating and abjecting the audience. That sucks very badly, and is a serious disappointment, and one of the few places where the show feels like it is being cowardly in its design philosophy. But I don't have it in me to do some kind of Hazbin Hotel Sucks And Here's Why takedown, its problems are not unique or extreme enough to warrant it, at least not as I currently understand them.

[wandixx]

one-shot snippet

Duke was running out of fumes to run on. The last few days would be exhausting if it was just vigilante or just civilian stuff but no, he had to have it both. Because of Arkham break out, he had been called in three nights in a row, not for a whole patrol but he couldn't exactly sleep it off during the day like others did, especially not in a week when every teacher decided they needed to have test or quiz or what not. Naps meant he wasn't as sleep-deprived as he could be but he needed far more. But he couldn't because crime in Gotham never sleeps so he had normal patrol to finish and there were about two hours left.

Would something bad happen if he just stopped for a moment and laid on a roof? Ten up to fifteen minutes. It was a slow day too…

Yeah, no, he deserved a moment to rest and if something disastrous was to happen in the meantime he would shame other Bats for not giving him enough time to sleep.

It certainly said something that he found gravel covering this roof to be quite comfortable. He set a timer for ten minutes and let himself close his eyes.

When the loud screech of the timer jolted him awake, he was suddenly fully aware that he wasn't alone anymore. He sat up a little too quickly.

"Oh, you're awake" white white-haired girl around Damian's age chimed, sitting cross-legged just a few feet away from him. She wore something that could only be described as a lab safety hazmat suit, white and black with popping green accents. When had Gotham gotten a new vigilante/villain/whoever the girl was? "Good, I just returned from a snack hunt," she added, gesturing at a big textile bag lying next to her. Duke didn't have enough brainpower to do anything more than ask.

"What?"

The girl shrugged, take-out from BatBurger in her hand.

"You look like you have a bad day if not a few days, so I've got you my cousin's bad day combo or at least the closest thing I could. BatBurger burger isn't as good as NastyBurger but you certainly have better fries" As she spoke, a second take-out bag, 1 liter bottle of energy drink, juice bottle of the same size, and pack of convenience store brownies joined greasy paper bag sealed with a sticker.

"Is your cousin a speedster?" Excuse Duke, it was a totally valid question, he saw with his bare eyes both Wally West and Bart Allen when they visited Manor. No one else would be able to stomach the amount of food they inhaled during their stays.

"Nah, we're not that fast or that hungry. Though I think I may get closer to the speed of sound." So, clearly, a meta if white hair and weir aura that let his eyes rest weren't enough indication "My cousin when he has a bad few days often forgets to eat so this combo has to help with there too. But I'll steal your fries of course."

Duke was not going to look a gift horse in the teeth, so he grabbed one bag and tore it open. There was a classic combo with bigger fries and NightWings inside.

"Thank you…" he trailed off, hoping that the girl would take a clue and introduce herself but she didn't. She just drowned her fries in ketchup and started munching. She had her own juice.

"My cousin always said that each part of this combo has a different purpose." she explained instead, slightly muffled because of the fries in her mouth "This" she gestured towards the fast food meal "is to soothe your stomach. This "she tapped energy drink "is to soothe your brain and kick it back online. This "she raised a bottle of juice "is to soothe your taste buds because energy drinks are war crime against them and this "she nudged brownies "is to soothe your heart because Ancients damn it, this day is awful and you deserve it. At least that's what he told me when I had day bad enough to deserve that" she shrugged, licking ketchup of her finger. Suddenly she froze "You aren't allergic, are you?

"No, I'm not" he confessed bewildered.

"Good"

For a long moment, they sat in silence, devouring food the little girl brought. Duke distantly wondered if this was how the night shift spent their snack breaks. It felt nice.

He was finishing his part of the brownies when the girl spoke up again.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," he was a little surprised to realize that t it was true. He'll have to note down what she put in this 'bad day combo'. "Thank you"

"Don't mention it." she shrugged with a general gesture of dismissal "You're one of my cousin's favorite heroes because you're vaguely his age and handle Gotham alone during the day and I quote "She did honest or God air quotes at that" 'As only hero in Amity-' which is a lie by the way, Val is doing great and even if he suddenly got problem with how she feels about his alter ego, he still has Sam and Tuck even if they're usually more of moral support. And I helped when I visited, so no, he isn't the only one. Anyway as he said 'As the only hero in Amity, my heart goes out for anyone who deals with this type of bullshit so Dani if you absolutely have to prank heroes, leave them out of it, especially Signal, he can't be older than Jazz, he doesn't need any more mess to handle.' All aliens and lanterns are also off-limits because he is a space nerd. But you aren't space-related so I'm like 80% percent sure he has a celebrity crush on you" She slurped more juice, unbothered.

Duke was thankful he wasn't swallowing anything because for sure she would choke. He took a split second to consider addressing… this whole situation and choose against it. He was not ready to be anyone's celebrity crush.

"Your name is Danny?" he asked instead.

"Dani" she corrected" with an I"

"Ok. It's nice to meet you Dani-with-an-I" She giggled, nodding her head slightly.

"It's nice to meet you too Signal"

Duke stood up, stretching a little. Dani joined him after hastily putting all the trash in her bag. She was a little higher than expected.

"I have to get back to my patrol"

"Cool," she drifted back a bit, making him realize that she was floating a few inches above the ground. She fixed her bag on her arm.

"Hey, can I hang out a little bit more? My cousin will go green out of jealousy when I tell him" she added with a mischievous smirk but Duke could tell there was more to it. He took a moment to consider it, which apparently made the girl nervous "I can be invisible the whole time, like before." she offered, disappearing in the meantime. He could still tell where she was, because of her heat signature, and aura but for regular people, she would be no different than the surrounding air.

"Yeah, you can hang around and you don't have to be invisible. Just don't get in my way when I have to actually do some fighting."

She popped back to the visible spectrum and pouted like Damian whenever he got benched.

" I can fight, y'know? I stopped mugging on a snack run."

It was ten goddamn minutes, how could she get so much food and stop a mugging in such a short time?!

Oh, right, superspeed. Still, impressive.

"I haven't seen it" he started, channeling all Dick-trying-to-wrangle-Damian-into-socially-acceptable-activity' energy he could muster "So I don't know how you fight or even what powers you have. If we tried to fight together we would trip over each other" It was a bare-faced lie, Bat Training made sure of that but he knew for a fact that if he said anything else, the girl would be mad and probably did her own thing.

Was that what Bruce thought about all of them?

Oh no.

Dani still looked displeased but after a moment of consideration, she nodded with a defeated sigh.

Suddenly she straightened like she got struck by lightning and whipped around.

"Wha-"

She just shushed raising her finger to her mouth. Duke did indeed quieten.

"I have enhanced hearing" she whispered "There is a mugging somewhere this way."

"Let's go then" he shot his grapple, waving his other hand at Dani to come with him before he jumped off the roof. He heard the girl giggle as she flew right after him.

" After this, you'll show me the coolest gargoyles, okay? Sam asked for photos"

"Okay"

It seemed that the end of this patrol wouldn't be as bad as the start was. Hopefully.

And afterward, he was going to lock himself in his room until the sky fell or he was well rested.

Yeah, that was a good plan.

*******

how do you like it?

[jeonscatalyst]

Not Jimin lying about going snowboarding with Jk only for Jk to call is lying ass out. Like idol like fans no wonder jokers always want what taekook have.

Anon,

You know sometimes I really worry about tkkrs’ reading and listening comprehension skills because there is no way in hell y’all are this dumb fr.

You couldn’t drag Jikook with Jk being on his phone this time so you twisted moments to use to drag Jikook as usual huh? What insecurities are you dealing with that causes you to act like a butt hurt side chick anon? Well…….

As you can clearly see, Jimin was mistaken and it is understandable why he was. He went snowboarding for the first time ever with Jungkook’s friends and seeing as Jimin and Jungkook were always together doing alot of stuff together alone and with friends it makes sense that Jimin would have thought Jungkook was there. My man doesn’t have a single lying bone in his body so please don’t project ok?

But what is really eating you up anon? Is it the fact that now you know that not only has Jungkook been around Jimin’s friends multiple times but Jimin has been around Jungkook’s friends too? Did that bust your little delusional bubble of joy anon? Is that why you and your cult are raving mad as usual?

Also anon, please no! Neither I nor my idol Jimin wants what taekook have. I’m sure Jimin doesn’t want Jungkook abandoning him at a ski resort alone and I certainly would not like to hear from either Jimin or Jungkook that the other left them all alone at a ski resort and chose to go back home with friends. Those are things you celebrate and truly believe validate your ship but to me, that debunks your ship 100% and shows once again that Tae’s priority will always be his wooga squad not Jungkook whom you think is his boyfriend. He choose to follow his friends back home and left his “boyfriend” all alone at a ski resort, a day before his enlistment he had all his wooga friends with him physically and only caught up with Jk via a facetime call (which was probably to show him his shaved head), he would choose not to go see Jungkook on his birthday but will make sure not to miss Wooshik’s. He would spend an entire break traveling with his wooga squad and doesn’t even bother to see his “boyfriend” once and the list goes on, so no anon, I really, really, really don’t want what your ship has.

Notice how when Jimin said “I went with your friends” Jungkook didn’t look surprised or ask “which friends”? You wish that was you huh?💀

[girldreaming]

Lemon Color, Honey Glow

hiiii she’s so… honey… I couldn't stop listening to Lemon Glow by Beach House hence the title <3

pairing: service top!abby x afab!reader

summary: abby hangs out with her ex owen a little too long and reader gets insecure! (she will never escape him)

warnings: angsty, reader cries, established relationship, spit stuff, reader receives penetration via fingers and also receives oral, abby mouth fucks reader with her fingers? pet names used - sweetheart, doll, baby, (mama, slut, and champ are used once), alcohol mention, comfort and validation af

wc: 4.3k

minors do not interact fank yew

She’d been gone all damn day and you tried, really tried to distract yourself and relish in the alone time you’d thought would be used to self-reflect, pick up a new hobby, something! Anything productive actually.

But it just wasn't happening.

It’d been a slow morning filled with picking up the tiny apartment - if you could even call it that. You’d done all the laundry at least, gone to the cafeteria twice, and tried to read a book but still, you couldn’t stop spiraling.

Abby’s with Owen, Abby’s with her first love, Abby chose him to spend her day off patrol with, not you.

It was ringing in your ears like a gunshot every time you’d forgotten how alone you were. Like clockwork, whenever you'd found the perfect distraction, the conviction would just come barreling back. The feeling was no doubt due to the fact that Abby was your first love, almost your first everything and there was an unconscious possessiveness that came along with that. Which, of course, made it much fouler to think about, that there was a time in which she’d felt this for someone else and the fact that she would never feel it again, and certainly not for you.

Ergo, here you are, the moon barely grazing the skyline, getting ready for bed when you hear the unlocking of the front door, a flutter buzzing in your stomach. The heavy sound of it closing and the locks clicking back, however, makes your heart drop to the tile of the bathroom floor, the anticipation you’d been building all day coming to a grating boil. It would’ve been fine if it weren’t for the fact that you'd been thinking about this moment for hours. Fucking hours. Now that she was here it only filled you with panic, the blood leaving your head, hands freezing in motion kind of panic. What were you even gonna say to her? What if she smells different? What if she saw him again the same way she did when she was a teenager? Everything about it just made you sick.

All of the insecure shit you thought you’d gotten rid of was baring its ugly teeth. The jealous, nasty parts of you want to push her away so terribly that she has no choice but to go back, simply so you don’t have to look at her and act like you haven’t been pacing all day, imagining killing him in every way you could possibly think of.

Even though you know deep down nothing happened, the humiliating weight of the possibility was enough for you to beat her to the punch.

So, naturally, you leave your place in the bathroom, following the sound of Abby’s booted feet to the kitchen. I can do this, I was normal today, you hype yourself up, or try to.

“Hi, baby.” She coos, pulling you into a hug. You don’t want to punish her but you also can’t help the way your body tenses as she squeezes you, hands around your waist.

You pull away first and she moves back in for a kiss, your lips connecting for a mere moment before she’s stepping back. She smells the same, tastes like something slightly familiar - alcohol?

“What was that?” She laughs nervously, making a face. God, you were so transparent with her it wasn’t fucking fair, couldn’t hide anything.

“Nothing.” You shrug, the panic building back up in your chest, this time though, it felt like you did something wrong, the shame coursing through your veins. Your fingers instinctively fidget with each other, quickly moving behind your back to hide them from Abby, who would clock your nerves pretty damn quick.

“You sure?” She doubles down, bending over to unlace her boots, kicking them off into the middle of the room. It takes everything in you not to bitch at her, ask her to put them away, ask her don't you know better?

You hum a response, not giving her enough time to question you before you ask, “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, Owen’s still Owen.” She smiles at you, leaning back against the countertop. The dagger of delusion you stabbed into your own heart twists, and you’d like to fall to your knees and scream but you must keep up the illusion you’ve so poorly curated for her.

“Yeah? Y’all have fun?” You distract yourself, picking her boots up from where she left them in the middle of the kitchen and returning them to where the rest of the shoes live.

“We snuck out.”

A deep breath leaves you, body tensing. You shake your head, “Abigail, what the fuck is wrong with you.” and she just laughs.

The entire time she was gone today, the aspect of her safety not once crossed your mind, and that made you feel. so. much. fucking. worse. The all too familiar knot builds at the back of your throat, threatening to take all of your words and swallow them whole.

“You know I’m smart about it, baby, I’m fine. I’m here, aren’t I?” Abby grins.

“I trust you, I do. I just would’ve liked to have known.” You seethe, a frown adorning your face as you stare at her across the room. You huff as you walk back to the bathroom, needing a second to gather your thoughts.

Unfortunately, the only thoughts that come are images of them running around, giggling together as they sneak past the gates. You can already hear her socked feet following yours, causing you to hurry in and splash water on your face, it's fine. everything is fine.

“Don’t you wanna hear about my adventure? I found you somethin' doll, you’re gonna fucking love it.” She gushes - a rare and adorable occurrence - while leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom as you turn off the faucet.

“M’ really tired, Abs, can you tell me in the morning?” You sigh.

“I’ve got patrol tomorrow.”

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

“All day?” The dagger twists again, you'll be bleeding out soon, you think.

“Won’t get back until Friday morning, maybe Thursday night.” Abby shrugs, not too sure what the plan is.

It’s Tuesday. Yes. Definitely bleeding out now.

You try your hardest to look up, to stop the tears from forming but it’s not possible, the presence of her only making it more difficult to push down. Your signature lip quiver was the straw that broke the camel's back, Abby’s face instantly falling as she takes the two steps to be directly in front of you, grabbing your cheeks. It should feel comforting but you couldn't help but feel humiliated. You were trying so hard to regulate yourself and your emotions, but it was so difficult when you knew she was there to console you, regulate for you.

“Hey.” She breathes, your eyes squeezing shut, the tears falling with them and wetting her hands.

“What’s goin’ on with you, sweetheart?”

But you can’t speak, your throat feels like it was ripped out of your neck and you know no sound would come out even if you tried. So, you shake your head, and she hugs you again, the second time tonight you’re tense in her arms.

But she won’t let you go, so you relax, melting into her, your snot sticking to her shoulder where you bury your head.

She’s shushing your hiccups with a palm smoothing over the back of your head, holding you to her. You try to think about what you’re supposed to say next, if you should back down and go to sleep or have the conversation you’ve been rehearsing in your head for the past twelve hours.

“Are you drunk?” You sniffle into her shoulder, choosing neither. It’s quiet for a moment, a confirmation. She was too embarrassed to say, yes! My ex boyfriend and I drank too much of his homemade moonshine together, hope we don’t get botulism!

“Why are you so mad at me?” She whispers, her voice so fucking small. She sounds like a child who’s gotten into something they weren’t supposed to, meek.

It didn’t feel right, any of it. You can’t help the sob that falls out of you, shaking your head.

“I'm not.” you blubber, not very convincing.

“Do you want to be with him?” You utter, the delusions winning. They managed to take enough of your brain over to ask such a stupid, silly question that you already knew the answer to.

It was embarrassing, really, the way she pulled back, still holding you by your shoulders, a confused look on her face.

“What?” She blurts, her eyes moving around your features. You immediately look away, down at the ground, at the wall. Anywhere except her, the guilt eating you up and spitting you back out.

“You’re serious?” Abby snickers, covering her mouth, trying to control herself.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You croak, the tears slowing but your nose still running as you wipe it with your sleeve.

“I’m sorry, I jus-“ She starts, hands leaving your shoulders, going to her temple. Turning around, then turning back around, she looks at you. Long and hard.

“Is that why you’re upset? You think I cheated on you with Owen? Fucking Owen?”

“S’not funny.” You practically wail, your hands shooting up to your face, hiding yourself from her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She’s still laughing.

“Fuck you.” You spit, on a mission to get out of this small room with her. It wasn't because you’re that upset over her laughing at you, but the anger you feel at yourself has to go somewhere and you know you'll end up taking it out on her, which just wasn't fair.

“Hey, no, come here.” Abby's serious now, walking behind you as you sit on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m sorry I was gone all day, really, that wasn’t my intention.” She mumbles as she squats down in front of you, her elbows resting on her knees, hands hanging between them.

“Well, it’s what happened.” You look down at her, blue eyes wide, apologetic.

“Do-do you want me to leave?” She stammers, mouth sitting open.

“No, I don’t want you to leave, Abby.” You grimace, rolling your eyes. You were still being mean and didn't know why.

“Don't like it when you roll your eyes at me."

"Abby, please." You sniffle, tears threatening to spill once again, you didn't want that part of her right now, just needed the nice part that was obsessed with you, and just you.

Your stuttered breaths interrupt the silence in the room, Abby’s temple resting on your knee in response, snuggling into you. She was obviously finding it difficult to let you ride out your mood on her, but knew she didn't have much of a choice.

“Today was so fucking hard.” You squeak.

“M’ sorry, pretty. I kept thinking it was over and then Manny showed up with Leah an-“ She starts, head detaching from your leg to look back up at you.

“It’s fine, seriously, just haven’t felt insecure like that in so long. I feel so crazy.” You interrupt, hoping the more you let it out of your body the more it’ll actually leave.

“Sweet girl.” She sighs, pressing a soft kiss to the skin of your knee.

“I would’ve come home.”

“It’s so embarrassing.” You whine as you look up again, the ball in your throat reappearing, threatening. She’s still squatted before you, her hands beginning to rub the smooth of your thighs, shushes leaving her mouth as she tries to calm you down. You feel relief for the first time today, knowing she was here, choosing to be here.

"Shh, eyes on me." She directs, you tilt your head down to her, blue eyes studying yours. Her lips push out to a pout considering your state, puffy eyes, and red nose. She moves her head closer to your stomach, butterflies swarming.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby.” A peck to your inner thigh, which her palm is pushing apart.

“I’ve done worse without you.” She nods, breathing onto your exposed midriff, the hot air tickling, your own breath hitching. The memory of that instance comes flooding back. Your first and last four-day patrol without her.

She'd followed you around like a puppy as you were prepping, making sure you'd gotten first pick at the gun range. Not before having a long sit-down chat with those who you were being sent off with about you and your safety, the consequences that would follow had you not come back up in one piece. She'd followed you all the way to the car, a not-so-quick kiss and a soft "Be safe mama," farewell.

After you'd gotten back - with nothing more than a few scratches - you were told Abby hadn't slept the last two days of the trip and that she'd been an absolute menace to Isaac and anyone who had their hands on a radio. She'd gotten kicked out of the gym for hogging the equipment on top of the situation which supposedly had sent her into even more of a nosedive.

No one really likes to bring it up though, her face erupting in a tomato-red flush whenever you did.

"I know, my love." You sigh, hand reaching up to rest on her head, following her braid down to the band, pulling it out and placing the elastic on the bedside table.

"We should go to bed." You whisper. And you really wanted to, to end the evening as you did any other night, wanted to feel the same you did then. Wanted to feel like yourself again. It was obvious how tired Abby was, her eyelids falling after every word you spoke, her own body weighing her down.

"M' not done." She drawls onto your skin, nipping at the fat of your thighs, her hands planted on your hips, fingers kneading. The thought of asking her to take care of you had crossed your mind, but you shook it off in fear of demanding too much of her.

"Abs, you'll be exhausted tomorrow." Your hand still rests on her head, twisting the strands you set free around your fingers, pulling them until they untwine.

"Need to make it up to you, please." She groans, looking up at you, she was wide awake now, that's for sure.

"You don't owe me anything." You croon.

It's so hard, trying to shut down such an immovable force, and the fact she knows you need her just as badly doesn't help. Your legs are essentially spread for her, her palms pushing you apart, pinching at the skin of your inner thigh. Yet, it’s still surprising when you feel her fingers graze over your clothed core, the small wet spot causing her to groan into your skin, your face felt like it was glowing. When the fuck did that happen.

“You always get drenched when you cry, sweetheart?” She laughs as her eyes find yours.

“Only when it’s cause of you, Abby.” You practically purr, taking your hands out of her scalp and leaning on them behind you. The familiar coil begins to thaw inside your stomach, her body heat radiating, passing onto you.

"You are depraved." Leaves her with a chuckle, thinking for a moment, reading your face.

"Take your shirt off." She scoffs, climbing up onto your lap, straddling you as your hands reach the hem of your top, swiping it off. Her hands go straight to your face, holding your cheeks together, lips smushing with the wet, sloppy kisses she’s pressing onto them.

Your hands instinctively go to the back pockets of her cargo pants, pulling her impossibly closer, her ass taut in the tight fabric. She leans forward, the force of it putting you onto your back with an oof, teeth clacking together, kissing Abby through her smile.

Her covered knee slots between your thighs, the curve of her pressing against your thinly veiled clit. The cave of her mouth vibrates with your moans as she rolls you onto her thigh, hands rough, but steady. Your fingertips underneath her shirt, running along her abs seems to ignite the same fire that's living inside of you, her breath hitching when you reach the small swell of her breasts, palming and grasping at her, wishing it was feasible to tear her open and create a cavity the size of you.

“Got - fuck - gotta get these off, kay?” She rambles, eyes scanning your boxers, hers, she's just shy of drooling, or combusting.

You whimper at the loss of contact, hips instinctively lifting up as her hands wrap around the waistband of the shorts, tugging them off and tossing them to the ground. It was never balanced with her, you lying on the mattress bare while she hadn't taken off a damn sock.

She’s still straddling you, farther down over your knees. Her pants are somehow unbuttoned and her shirt messily skewed to the side. You just really couldn't get over her hair, god, it's frizzy and crimped from her braid yet framing her face so perfectly, draping over the expanse of her shoulders, golden threads cascading down her back.

"Can yo-" You start, hands fumbling with the bottom of her top but before you can finish she's already pulling it over her shoulders, bra following. Abby's mouth is immediately back on yours, palms pressing into the mattress at the sides of your head.

You whine when she leaves you again, weight on her knees as her fingers go to the roots of your hair, grabbing your scalp and craning your head up off of the bed. Her other hand sits at your chin, palm up as she looks down at you. Can't help but notice the look in her eye, the look she does when Abby knows she's broken down any bit of modesty you would've scurried away with and kept for yourself if it weren't for her sitting on top of you.

"Spit.”

Obeying, drool and saliva drip down out of your mouth, onto your chin, and then to her hand. Strings of your spit link the two of you until she breaks the cord, her palm connecting with your mound, barely moving, just enough to saturate you with your own saliva. Finally, she shifts, her middle finger sliding up and down your folds, circling slowly around your clit. She wants you to watch, you realize, her hand still in your hair, still holding you up. So you do, as two fingers sink into your aching slit, disappearing with a moan from you, and something of the sort from her.

Her other hand leaves your head, causing it to hit the mattress and your eyes to squeeze shut from the impact. She's already curled her fingers, squelching them in and out of you, hitting the spot that you could never reach, that you didn’t really know existed before Abby.

"That feel good? Feel full?"

mhm a little too good, you think.

"Little slower, Abs." You whimper, knowing how prone she was to getting ahead of herself and how easily you were gonna come like this. Wanted to take your time with her, make her work for it for a change. She crawls in between your knees, spreading your legs over her hard thighs.

"Shit - sorry you're fuckin' soaked." She pants, her pace slowing.

With her middle and ring finger still hooked inside of you, her other hand rolls under your back, shifting you farther up the mattress. She sets a new tempo, slowly surging.

"Better?" She asks, thumb dipping inside of your cunt, drawing out the wet and smearing it over your clit.

"Yes, f-uck," You moan, back arching, hips bucking up dying to feel her deeper and deeper. Her free hand scoops your leg up and rests behind your knee as she pushes onto you, now hovering over your limp frame. Her hand leaves your leg as it lazily hangs near her waist, her arm now inches away from your face as she supports herself. You can't look at her, you really can't, so you throw your head to the side and breathe into her forearm, your own wrapping around it, hand gently squeezing her flexed bicep.

"Did so good today, m' so proud of you." She mewls, adding a third finger. It's definitely a tight squeeze, your walls clenching around her, rejecting the speed she desires. "Gotta relax, sweetheart, it's just me."

You nod, trying to release the built-up stress you've been carrying all day, remembering that she was here, she was yours. Remembering what she taught you, deep breaths into your nose and out through your mouth. Even though it ached, you didn't want her to stop.

You feel her fingers leave you, your lips parting on instinct. As you anticipated, her fingertips run along the tip of your tongue, following the muscle back, farther and farther.

"That's it, just like that. You're so good." She purrs, eyes on your mouth, your lips closing around her. Can feel her fingers fucking your face, her other hand playing with your clit in incomplete, sloppy circles. She gives a final jolt, and you can’t believe you don't gag, but you’ll pat yourself on the back later. They’re back within you without missing a beat, the lubrication your spit provides allowing her to have her way, her speed.

"So fuckin' pretty takin' me, wish you could see yourself, champ."

"I believe you." You beam, grabbing her face to plant a fat kiss on her lips, trailing past her mouth to her cheek. A quiet "Jesus, fuck," spills from your throat without a second thought after her thumb bumps your clit just right.

“Whose fingers are these, huh?” She groans at the sight of you, wrapped around her, inside of you. Gotta make it better she thinks, gotta make it go away.

“Mine.” You breathe, clenching around her. You believe it too, at this point, they were fucking yours. But how couldn't you? The fingers you'd trace as you fell asleep, just to then have dreams of. The same ones that'd roamed every inch of you, threatening to kiss your organs if she went any fucking deeper, god.

“That’s fuckin’ right. There’s my girl.” She praises, the sweet sound dripping all over you like a syrup, coating, sticking to every cell. Her lips practically live on your jawline, your head back to being tilted, giving her full access. She's moaning like she feels it too, and maybe she can with the way your bodies are just about conjoined. Your hand shoots down to her wrist, holding onto it as she pummels you. A shiver tickles its way down your spine.

“Right there, please, s’so fucking deep, oh my god,”

“You think I’d fuck anyone else like this?” Is whispered into your neck, a moan of your own echoing off the walls. Your puffy eyes fill with tears again, though this time it’s from sheer satisfaction, pure comfort.

You shake your head no, "Just me, Abs."

It feels so nice to reassure yourself, so right, the validation from her beaming through you and the molten coil in your core threatening to burn.

"Only you, pretty." She smiles, punctuated by the lick of your nipple, the popping of it in and out of her mouth, and of course, teeth sinking into the flesh. She had quite the obsession with your chest, grabbing them often just to have something warm to hold.

“Ow,” You blush, your legs relaxing, spreading and making space for her as she scoots down.

“Fucking slut, you love it when I bite you, can feel it.” Another chomp, this time on your stomach. A nibble on your thigh. It was mortifying how much of you she recognized. So much of yourself you never thought would be shared with anyone else that Abby did next to nothing to get out of you.

All you can do is moan, clench around her, repeat.

Your eyes are closed when her tongue meets your core, moans being replaced with groans, her hand that was used to support herself now supporting you, wrapping around your thigh that's threatening to squish her head like a melon.

“Keep ‘em open, doll, you got it.” She breathes onto you, her arm realistically doing all the work.

“Abby, m’gonnacome,” You’re nodding, slowly, building up the courage to look at her, meeting her eyes as you do to find she’d been looking at you the whole time. "Please?" She mumbles into your cunt, sucking your clit inside of her mouth.

“God, please yes, fuck yes,” The rubber band finally snaps, your hands going to her scalp, to your thighs, grabbing, pulling. One of them settles on her hand on your thigh, which she grabs, holding you through your orgasm.

Your hips are grinding against her face and you use your leverage on her head to pull her off of you, quickly getting overstimulated. Abby’s got her pussy-drunk smile, eyes turning to slits from happiness being paired with exhaustion. She kisses the inside of your thigh, one last peck on your swollen bud before her fingers reappear, glimmering with you.

"Mmm, you gotta pee, sweetheart." Is all she says before she collapses onto her side on the mattress, a small huff following. You're still catching your breath, feeling your rapid heartbeat slug to its typical pace. She definitely wasn't asleep, but she sure as shit wasn't conscious.

"Baby, your pants." You heave.

Abby grumbles, fingers fumbling with her zipper.

"I'm gonna get you some water, don't move." You insist, feeling your body snap back together as you stand up, only slightly seeing stars. In the kitchen, you wet a rag for her and clean yourself up with one while you're there, before grabbing a couple of cups.

"Gonna show me what you got?" You speak up to reach the room, two glasses of water in hand as your bare feet shuffle along the hardwood floor. At the lack of response, you pick up your strides toward the bedroom. It was so quiet at this point in the night - or early morning. Hard to tell. So peaceful.

"Abs?"

As you peek your head into the doorway you're met with her, sprawled out on her stomach, naked, and softly snoring.

[nickssidewitch]

Chris’s Dilemma, Pt. 2

Following Chris and Layla’s “escapade” in the Cut The Cameras podcast room, Chris and Layla try to understand where they stand, leading to an interesting phone call…

First Part here: Chris’s Dilemma

Warning: SMUT with plot, Dom!Chris x Sub!OC, phone sex, some fluffy bits

***

Chris’s POV

So… that happened.

I don’t think I need to do a recap.

We all finished our food and hung out for a little bit. Layla taught Matt how to play around with her cat Knight, and even showed him the best places to scratch him, pet him, and all that stuff. The moment was heartwarming, until I heard her mention how he “had to remember those things for the next time she’d come back.”

She wants to come back?

Huh. She wants to come back. It took a second to really understand that. She wanted to come back? To my home? After all of what happened between us? Not that it was bad or anything. It’s just- I don’t know. I would feel pretty awkward to come back to the same house where the person I just had snuck to have sex with lives with his brothers. It was awkward enough to sit down and have lunch with them knowing what had occurred.

Matt offered to walk Layla to her Uber, which I was lowkey jealous about, but I didn’t want to make that too obvious. So, all I did was give her a hug right after Nick, a long one like we’d always done, and gave her a smile and a look into her eyes. I hoped that she could see through my eyes how I truly and deeply felt about her, on some telepathic shit.

As Matt and Layla walked through the front door, Nick grabbed the hood of my sweater and dragged me to the bathroom, shutting the door behind us. “Listen to me, listen to me, listen to me!!” He whispered with a raised tone. “You are despicable!!”

I scoffed as I heard Nick’s words and responded, “It was your plan!”

Nick groaned. “Yeah, well, I didn’t plan on you to fuck her the first time you even admit your feelings to her!!”

I was about to clap back at him, but I raised an eyebrow at him as I realized what he said. “Wait a minute- how do you know we had sex?”

I could hear Nick let out a deep sigh before he answered. “I might be an idiot, but I'm certainly not stupid!!” He answered as he smacked the back of my head and rustled my hair, the action pointing out the obvious post-sex hair that I now sported.

“Oh,” was all I could let out.

“What the fuck did you guys even talk about?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes as he processed (or at least tried to process) what happened. “And please omit the ‘sex’ parts. I don’t wanna hear about that shit.” Valid point.

“Okay, so,” I explained the situation, “Y’all left, she and I were left alone, we started playing 20 questions or something like that—”

“20 Questions??” He interrupted. “Who the fuck plays 20 Questions??”

“We did! We didn’t know what else to do without it being awkward.” I noticed him roll his eyes. “So, we played 20 Questions, told each other how we felt, and one question led to another and… we fucked.”

“That’s so-” He stumbled over his words. “You’re so fuckin-”

“I know! I know! It was a hasty move. I get it. But, I just-” I paused, trying to piece together the best way to put it. But I couldn’t. “It’s hard to even explain. It just felt right at that moment, I guess.” That’s a better way to justify it than anything else, I guessed.

Nick bit his lip as if he was holding back any sort of “buts” or “ands” that he could add to the already awkward conversation. He didn’t want to escalate anything further. It was obvious to us that we both needed time to think this over. So, he dropped the conversation. For now. “Alright, c’mon,” he said as he walked out of the bathroom, and I followed right behind him.

“What were you two doing in there?” Matt asked with a cheeky smirk and a chuckle as he looked down the small hallway and noticed us walking out of the bathroom together. I would’ve normally laughed at him hinting at some sort of incest joke, but his voice made me jump as I thought he was still outside waiting for the Uber with Layla.

Nick scoffed as he began to walk up the stairs. “Don’t be fucking weird, Matt.” And with that, he entered his room and shut the door, a click finalizing his exit from the conversation and the overall day.

I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water from inside.

Matt looked over and noticed the bottle, and the unusual drink choice puzzled him. “Water?”

Water, oh my god, he’s right. I didn’t even notice. I was just too deep in my own head, thinking about Layla, what happened today, and how the future would be. I walked over to one of the cupboards and took a bag of Cheez-Its as I answered him. “Yeah? What about it?”

“That’s new.”

Correct, yet again. I had to think of a rebuttal fast. Then, something clicked. “Remember what I said earlier? I’m changing. Evolving, like a Pokemon.”

“Oh God, okay sure,” he replied, and I could hear a small snicker as he turned the corner to his room. “It’s your turn to wash the dishes by the way.”

****

3rd POV

“So?”

“…So?”

“Tell us everything.”

Layla and her three friends Dawn, Destiny, and Malia were sitting at a random bar in the middle of LA, just having their little biweekly rendezvous as friends usually do. They updated each other about their respective workfields: Dawn with their music endeavors, Destiny and her similar influencer/content creator tasks as Layla, and Malia with her soccer- or sorry, football- wifey duties and sports research stuff that Layla didn’t really understand but supported nonetheless.

“So, I met up with the guy. Him and his brothers, actually.”

“Yeah, we know that part,” Dawn interjected as they took a forkful of their salad. “But, what happened during the meet-up?”

“We had a little moment before filming the podcast where we just spoke about little introductory stuff like ‘Where are you from originally?’ and ‘What’re your favorite things to do in LA?’. They played with Knight a little bit. I feel like they loved him more than me.”

Malia chuckled. “Don’t be modest, Layla. They don’t like your cat more than you,” she applied gloss on her lips as she continued, “And I feel like you’re saying that to stall.”

“Stall? I am not stalling,” Layla protested quickly as she felt her cheeks get warmer. Might as well just tell them, she supposed to herself. They would just constantly ask her about any sexual or romantic interaction she might have had with Chris anyway.

So she admitted, “We fucked,” quite nonchalantly, and ate some of her nachos as she braced herself for their reactions. She could feel their eyes widen and jaws drop without even looking at them.

“Oh my God?!” Dawn exclaimed, nearly dropping the martini glass in their hand. “Y’all did ‘the do’??”

Layla just continued eating as she responded. “Yep.”

Malia grabbed Layla’s container of nachos and dragged them towards herself. She scoffed, and it was clear to Layla that she wanted more details. “Um, excuse me? No more chips for you until you tell us more.”

“We did it in their podcast room.” She glanced at Destiny as she heard her gasp from across the table. “No, his brothers weren’t in the house when it happened,” she added, and she could see the relief take the weight off of Destiny’s shoulders. “They left to get some food for us from Chic-Fil-A. We had a good 15 to 20 minutes to do what we had to do.”

“Ooh, so how was he?” Dawn asked, obviously hinting at certain aspects of Chris that they were curious about. “Not trying to be invasive, you don’t have to tell me anything.”

Layla chuckled. “Good, because all I’m gonna say is that it was satisfying. He was satisfying. All of him.”

Malia let out a squeal of excitement. “Yes, bitch!” She get out of her seat and grabbed Layla in a tight embrace. I’m so fucking happy for you.”

“Nisha won the bet, oh brother,” Dawn said as they rolled their eyes. Nisha was another friend of all of theirs that was unfortunately not there for their little girl-chat due to a little business trip she had with her NBA boyfriend. “She bet me $50 that y’all were gonna fuck. She’s not gonna stop bragging about it.”

“Y’all are so unserious,” Layla said. “Betting on my sexual ventures.”

Dawn shrugged and laughed. “Well, your pleasure is of the utmost importance to us.”

“So, when are you gonna see him again?” Destiny asked.

Layla answered, “Hm, I don’t know. We haven’t spoken since that happened.”

“And when did that happen?” Malia asked, lifting an eyebrow as she started her point.

Layla replied, knowing where Malia was going with this. “It happened one day ago.”

Malia tapped on her wine glass with her nail, almost as if she was literally pointing out the obviously bullshit circumstances. “Exactly. One day ago. Honestly, men are weird. And he should have contacted you about it that same night about it. But, I’ll give him a one-day grace period, which ends in,” she looked at her phone’s time, “3 hours. So, if he doesn’t text you or something in 3 hours, I’ll personally drive to his house and whoop his ass for you.”

A chuckle left Layla’s lips as she nodded her head. “And I know you would actually do that.”

“I don’t like when men play games. Especially not little white boys,” she looked directly at Layla as she added, “No offense.”

“None taken ‘cause I understand,” Layla said with a grin. “Honestly, I think he’ll come to his senses tonight. I hope.”

“Layla, we got your back regardless,” Dawn reassured her. “Also, there’s someone else here who has a boy problem that we need to discuss.” All eyes at the table shifted to Destiny’s direction. Oh boy…

***

Layla arrived home after her night of girl-talk and gossip, laying herself onto her bed after taking off her heels and her dress. She laid with her bra and panties still on, wanting to calm herself down before getting ready for bed.

Suddenly, her phone dinged with a notification. She searched through her purse and unlocked the phone, and that’s when she noticed that she was sent a text.

And it wasn’t any text from any person.

It was from Chris Sturniolo. He passed the Malia test.

And the text read, “Hey, you up?”

A “you up?” text? Really?? Layla thought to herself and cut her teeth. He was really the type of guy to hit you up randomly with a “you up?” text? Was it out of boredom? Did he just want to have a little stupid chat? Or did he want to be serious? Did he want to talk about what had happened the day before? Was this a booty call? Fuck…

Layla texted him back. “Hey, yes, I’m up. You good?”

The speech bubble with the ellipses that indicated him typing appeared on her screen, and her anxiety gradually increased the more seconds she waited for his response. Until-

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replied at first, making Layla figuratively wipe the sweat from her forehead. But, the text bubble with ellipses popped up again, and Layla braced herself for his continuation. “I wanna talk about what happened the other day— not over text though.” There it was.

Layla could feel her heart speed up its tempo. He wanted to speak to her on the phone?? Like, hear her voice? Listen to the words coming out of her mouth? Oh, God, help her.

Despite her worries, she replied, “Ok, we can talk right now.”

A small thumbs-up popped up over Layla’s text bubble, indicating an unwritten “okay” from Chris, and within a second later, Layla’s phone rang. Thank God it wasn’t a FaceTime call, she sighed in relief. She was a bit nervous, and seeing his face would probably make her have a breakdown.

“Hey,” Chris said. His voice sounded so sexy over the phone, but not as sexy as in person. It was good to hear from him regardless.

“Heyyy,” Layla drawled out in reply as she brought the phone to her ear. “It’s nice to hear from you.”

A quiet chuckle came from the other side of the line before Chris said, “Yeah, you, too.” Silence. And then, “I missed your voice.”

Fuck… Layla said to herself mentally. He missed my voice? Should I tell him back? “I missed yours, too.” Silence.

And then his voice came on, “I’ve missed you. A lot.”

This man is fucking with my head. “Me, too. A lot.”

“Yeah?” Another chuckle. “What about me?”

Layla could hear his smug little smirk from the tone of his voice, and it lowkey pissed her off. Well, not really. This man has her by her neck. “Your face, your smell-”

“My smell?”

“Yes, Chris,” Layla rolled her eyes.

“Did I stink?” The sound of a sniff came from Chris’s side of the call, and Layla laughed as she could only assume he sniffed himself for comedic effect.

“No, you smelled rather pleasant. For a man,” She joked.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, actually. Men are icky,” he continued on with her joke, and it worked as he could hear her laugh. There was some more silence before he continued. “Have you been missing me in other ways since then?” His voice said with a slur as he thought about the many ways that Layla could reply.

“Yes,” she answered, her teeth taking a nip of her own lip as she held back a soft moan. If he knew what was best for him, he wouldn’t be talking to me with that tone.

“Yeah?” he repeated in a darker tone, intentionally egging her on as he noticed her voice holding back a note of lust. “How else have you missed me?” He spread his legs on his bed as he felt himself harden. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation would go, and even if he wasn’t ready, his dick sure was and he couldn’t deny it even if he tried.

As if she could see his actions, Layla spread her own legs and softly felt herself through her panties. She was warm, and felt her arousal start to seep through. “I thought of how you looked on top of me.”

Chris sighed, trying not to chuckle. He wasn’t trying to make fun of her, no. He was trying to toy with her, trying to make her flustered through the phone. You see, his initial plan for the phone call tonight was to talk to her about their little sexual endeavor. He wanted to get some things off his chest and clear the air about his true romantic feelings for her. But, when he finally dialed her number, something struck him– some sort of lust bug. Not a love bug, a lust bug, AKA his libido. So, he winged it and decided to speak to her with a hint of arousal in his voice. And it was working, obviously, as he could hear her hold back little moans and hear some hint of lust in her own tone of voice.

“What else, Layla?”

He sounds delectable, Layla thought to herself. It was like her mind wanted to slow down and really try to comprehend the encounter happening at the moment, but her mouth just spoke without restriction. “I thought about the way you would grip onto my body. Your hands felt so fucking good…” She rubbed her fingers over her panties with more pressure, stimulating her clit with the circular movements.

“They did, sweetheart? Nice and tight for ya, huh?”

A subtle mhm escaped from between Layla’s shut lips as she continued to please herself. Her left hand found some way to put her phone on speaker, and she placed it onto the nightstand beside her. She needed some more relief for the aching between her legs.

“What else, pretty girl?” The palm of Chris’s hand rubbed his dick over his trousers as he needed to relieve the ache in his body, too. This girl had a hold on him, for sure.

Layla struggled to speak as she began to slip the fingers of her left hand into her panties, yearning the feeling of something inside of her– something that mimicked the feeling of Chris’s dick inside of her. “I thought about the way you felt inside of me.”

“How did I feel?” Chris continued to palm himself as he spoke.

“So good,” she answered with a moan laced between her words, “so fucking good.”

“Are you touching yourself, Layla?”

Fuck. “Mhm…”

A beat of silence came with the subtle sounds of Layla’s fingers stroking inside her wetness in the background. And then-

“Good.” He bit his lip before adding on, “Good girl.”

“Fuck,” was all Layla could respond with as she continued her movements. Her fingers went as far as they could go, which wasn’t as far as Chris went, but it managed to help her somehow.

“Keep fucking yourself– make yourself feel good. Imagine it was me. Imagine I’m there, fingering you, making you feel good.”

Layla whimpered as the fingers on her clit fastened their pace, and the fingers inside of her were doing their best to satisfy her.

Chris continued, “Imagine I’m looking up at you, and my tongue is licking at your little clit. You’re not ignoring your clit, are you, Layla?”

“Nuh-uh,” was all she could let out as she went on with her movements. Her stomach started to warm, hinting at a climax building up.

“Gooood,” he slurred out, “keep thinking about me eating you up, just lapping at that pretty fuckin’ pussy. You got the perfect pussy, you know that, honey?” Chris could hear a moan from the opposite end of the call, which spurred him to start jerking himself off. Thank God, he lived on the lowest level of his and his brother’s house where they wouldn’t be able to hear any of the lewd acts happening in his room.

“Keep going, I know you’re close,” If he was correct with his discernment, he could hear Layla’s pussy make squelching noises. She was definitely getting close. “Keep going, that’s my good girl. Just imagine me.”

Layla’s back arched off the bed as she neared her orgasm, and her toes curled as the pleasure increased. “Chris…”

“I know, mama, I know,” he reassured her. “Just feel good, baby.”

As if on cue, Layla came around her fingers, clenching around them with a tightness she could say she had never felt before. It was like they'd been strangled and had fallen victim to that man’s voice.

Chris soothed her, trying his best to settle her down from her orgasm. “There you go, that felt good, yeah?”

Layla chuckled as her chest heaved. “Yeah…”

“Don’t move your hands from your pussy, though,” he said. The beginning of some sort of calming atmosphere was immediately snatched by the tone of Chris’s voice. It seemed to sound even darker than before, like it had some sort of malicious intent behind it. “Keep your hands right there.”

Layla followed his words immediately, resting her hands back onto her labia as she awaited for more of his instruction.

“I want you to slap it for me.”

If it was any other man, Layla would have laughed at this request. Slap her own coochie? It just sounded silly. But, with Chris, it was different. He had something commanding, nearly dominating, in his voice, and it kept her in a trance that she would only need an orgasm to break from.

“I didn’t hear you, Layla,” he said a bit impatiently.

Layla regathered herself and nodded as if he could see her, letting out a slap on her labia. Her body quivered at the sudden impact, which she could guess was Chris’s idea in the first place.

And her guess was correct, as she heard a low chuckle from his end. “Good. I would’ve done it myself if I was there– slap you silly to mess with you and get you all flustered again. Except I wouldn’t have just done it with my hand.” Chris pulled out his dick from being encapsulated under his pants. And no, he wasn’t wearing underwear because who the fuck wears underwear in their house? Definitely not him. And it was quite convenient for the situation occurring.

“Keep slapping your pussy, princess. Like how I slapped my dick on it a couple of times in the podcast room. You remember that?”

Layla sighed, and something sounding like a growl came from her throat as she got impatient, “Chris…”

Chris didn’t like her impatient tone. “Give yourself one final slap, but make this one harder. And I wanna hear it sting.”

Layla whimpered and gave her pussy a final slap just as he commanded and winced at the sting it gave her. A rush of arousal mixed with anticipation and the now stinging nerves on her pussy made her moan.

“Geez, I felt that one,” he said playfully, as if he wasn’t the one who told her to make it hurt. But, the show went on. “Put your fingers back inside– not deep, but just enough. Like I’m putting the tip in,” he continued, and his suggestion made him stroke the tip of his actual dick, going through synonymous motions with her.

Layla dipped her fingers inside of herself once again, only doing as he told, using a small bit of her fingers to stimulate herself.

“There you go… You feel me, baby? Feels so good?”

Layla nodded as she fell back into the trance he put her in earlier. She really wanted to focus on his voice to maximize her own enjoyment.

After a couple more strokes of his own dick and until he thought she had enough of her own movements, Chris instructed, “Okay, now I want you to go deeper. You can do that for me, right princess?”

“Mhm,” the girl answered and went deeper, curling her fingers which caused her to yelp a moan.

Chris tsked at her reaction. “If you’re curling your fingers, we’re not at that step yet, baby. Be patient. Just go in deeper and stop at your second set of knuckles. Go in and out, in and out…” His own hand motioned similarly, stroking only a small section of his shaft before going back to the tip again, repeating this every stroke.

And Layla followed, pumping only up to the second set of her knuckles at a decent pace.

Again, after a couple more strokes, Chris began his instructions. “I want you to finger yourself faster and rub your clit slowly, alright? Stay at the same length of your fingers and do not curl.”

Layla followed him again, speeding up her pace, and began to rub slow circles at her clit, which was still a bit sensitive from rubbing it earlier. She winced a bit loudly, causing Chris to notice.

“I know, mama, you’re still sensitive from earlier. That’s supposed to happen,” he assured her, “You’re supposed to feel sensitive. That’s why you hadn’t forgotten what happened the other day between us. It’s how you remembered the way I felt touching you, gripping you, fucking you…” Layla moaned as he continued, “I made your body so sensitive to me. That’s why you missed me, baby. That’s why you’re fucking yourself to the sound of my voice right now. You’re sensitive to me.”

“Chris,” Layla moaned with a drawl. Her jaw hung open a bit as she continued fucking her fingers into herself. The circles around her clit fastened, and her belly started to ache with bliss. She was close. Curse him for being right. Curse him for having this effect on her. Curse him for–

“I know, princess, shh..,” He cooed. “I want you to do something for me, okay?” Layla moaned, which was a thumbs-up for Chris to continue. “Bring your fingers as deeeeep as you can down that pretty pussy, okay? I want you to feel me right down there, by your belly. Just like when I put my dick so deep inside you. I want you to feel me,” Layla’s moans got louder, and he drawled out, “There we go… The tip of your fingers should be as deep as where the tip of my dick should be.”

Layla moaned, “Yes, fuck! Please…”

“You can curl your fingers and keep going, baby. Keep fucking yourself. Let me hear you clench around your fingers. I love the sound it makes when you’re close.” Chris continued to talk dirty to her as he gave himself longer and faster strokes, yearning for his own orgasm as it neared. “Fuck…”

Layla could hear the sound of him stroking his dick, and this was the final straw. She got so close to her orgasm- she could feel her heart galloping like a horse nearing the finish line of a race. When all of a sudden–

“Stop.”

Layla halted her movements abruptly, his voice immediately taking her out of her state of euphoria. She huffed in confusion. No one has ever stopped her from having an orgasm in their control before. Did he just edge her?

A chuckle sprang up out of the phone, followed by a loud guffaw as Chris seemed to get a kick out of this. “You thought I was gonna let you cum?”

Layla grunted, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Aht-aht! Don’t give me any attitude, young lady,” he started, “I don’t want you to cum until the next time I can actually put my dick inside of you again.”

Layla rolled her eyes as she heard another laugh from him. “You’re aggravating.”

“And ‘aggravating’ I shall be.” He laughed as he put his dick back in his pants. “This was just as hard for you as it was for me, y’know. I got blue balls now.”

“Good,” she replied deviously. “So, you can’t cum till we meet again either.”

“Wasn’t planning to, sweetheart. I’m saving these puppies for you.”

Layla’s eyebrow rose. “‘These puppies’? Are you referring to your-”

“Yes, I’m referring to my sperm as ‘these puppies’.”

‘Well, don’t do that again?” She faked a gag into the phone and heard laughter in response.

“Alright, alright,” Chris complied, letting out a sigh to regain his composure. “Layla, I hope you know I’m serious about you.”

Layla’s heart skipped a lub-dub or two as she processed what he said. “Serious?”

“Mhm. I’ve really been thinking about you all fucking day since we did the pod,” he explained. “I don’t wanna lose this, whatever this is. I don’t-” he paused as he battled with himself as to what to say next. But, he didn’t care if it came across as fast or forward. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

Layla couldn’t believe this. Seriously, she could not believe this. It’s not that she didn’t wanna hear what he had to say– she genuinely anticipated this. But, it was all so much. Just a whole sensory overload. “Chris… I feel like we should talk about this in person.” Chris gulped as he listened to her continue, “I thought the phone call would be enough, but we literally just fucked to the sounds of each other’s voices, and we’re still on that high.”

Chris sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

Layla quickly refuted his statement, “No, no that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that having a serious talk like this shouldn’t happen after sex. Look, let’s set up a date where we can have a proper conversation about this. Okay?”

“Okay. You’re making sense. You’re so smart,” he complimented her, and Layla swore she could envision him giggling and swinging his feet at his own words.

“Okay, buddy, relax. I know I’m smart,” she said with a laugh, which he followed with a laugh and smirk of his own. “Chris, I’ll text you tomorrow. We can set something up.”

He smiled. “Yeah, sure. I don’t wanna hang up, but I also want you to get a good night’s rest. Hm, what should we do about that?”, he teased her playfully.

“Ugh, goodnight, Chris,” Layla said with her own playful tone.

Chris let out an exaggerated groan and playfully replied with a tone matching hers, “Ugh, goodnight, Layla. Don’t let the bedbugs bite– that’s my job,” he said, followed by a few nom-nom-nom’s.

Layla laughed before hanging up.

This man got her hook, line, and sinker.

[yanderenightmare]

i want yandere bully bakugou but like redemption kinda? like, after becoming a pro hero he tries asking darling out and treats her nicely and stuff, trying to make up for being a bully, but still yandere and kinda toxic???

BNHA ! FIC

Bakugou Katsuki x darling

TW: yandere, NSFW, dubcon, bullying, manipulation WC: 3.5k

GIRLFRIEND

Normally, it would be strange to ask yourself why you’re someone’s girlfriend. But in your case, given who your boyfriend is, it would be weird not to doubt why. 

Part of the answer is that you wouldn’t know how to tell him no. 

But… more the question is,

why would he even ask you in the first place?

Try as you might, you couldn’t remember Kachan ever being interested in you in that way. Between calling you a quirkless flat-chested snot-nosed loser extra and telling you how your freckles made you look like you’d been rolling around in shit, he’d not once made you feel as though he was attracted to you in any way.

It had been nearly five years since your high school graduation. The last time you’d seen him. Other than on the news or posters on every corner of the city. Where in that time, he’d gone and made himself a renowned pro-hero. While you… 

Well… you’d made your own valid achievements. Though… not nearly amounting to anything as impressive as him.

Which was one of the big reasons why you felt so out of your depth. But not the only reason. And certainly not the main one.

You weren’t convinced it was Kachan when he’d first approached you. Something between meeting a celebrity and a ghost and some other thing you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Something that somewhat reminded you of the feeling of visiting someone in prison, you bet.

Granted, he, no doubt, still looked like Kachan. Though older, stronger, and taller now, he was still that ash-blonde red-eyed boy you used to know. 

It was still Kachan. With his signature straightforward thoroughness and, though more refined and with some resemblance of calm now, that same old brashness of his lurking beneath the trained attitude. It didn’t go unnoticed by you, nor did how his eyes demanded your attention, despite your wish to act like you didn’t recognize him.

You had expected him to growl at you, to laugh and mock you for working at a café, no mind to you being the assistant manager, as you were sure such a feat had no sway with someone as important as him. You’d in the least, if not the former, believed him to ignore you with a sneer. But, though he smirked, it wasn’t a smirk you were any used to. In fact, you’d actually go so far as to call it a smile.

He was still Kachan, but he'd become strange. A stranger, actually. A strange stranger who asked you out. Which is what made him so very strange a stranger to begin with. 

But not entirely a stranger as you were still, despite having grown up, a little afraid of what he’d do if you turned him down.

You thought he was joking at first. Playing his same old cruel schoolyard pranks despite being a full-grown man, not to mention one of the highest-ranking pro heroes in japan. But, for a mere joke, he sure seemed serious. Holding up the coffee line in wait for your answer, with fans recognizing him and looking at you as though you were insane for not answering and even more hardcore fans looking at him as though he was insane for asking you.

At least a dozen were filming. And the cardboard coffee cup ached more and more in your palm the longer you waited.

You didn’t really have a choice. 

Did you?

Your first date was a lot more expensive a taste than what you were used to. In fact, you realized you weren’t really used to being pampered at all. 

You felt underdressed even in the leather seats of his car and even more when the gold lighting of the restaurant dawned on you. 

Your breath thinned as you found yourself stared at by what felt like absolutely everyone as the two of you were led to your table overlooking the city.

Kachan noticed your flighty gaze and how you shared fluttering looks with the other people surrounding you and the marble floor, though never with him.

“You can’t blame them.” He said. And your doe-eyes finally returned his stare with an adorably puzzled look of your own. “Your own fault for looking like that.”

You paused, first instincts telling you how it in no way was a compliment, before realizing you were being silly before further deciding how it didn’t really matter. “It’s you they’re staring at. They’re just wondering who I am to be here with you.” You dismissed shyly, chewing the inside of your cheek. “And frankly, Kachan… so am I.”

He smiled, and you, without knowing how else you should respond, stilled in suspense until potentially prompted to move.

You were nervous enough around him from before without him acting so strangely, without him giving you those unfamiliar yet somewhat pleasant smiles you hadn’t even seen him use when addressing his fans on TV.

You would even go so far as to say he seemed to be admiring you. Or… you wouldn’t really know what to call it. 

A blush of drunkenness rouged his cheeks and sugared his eyes after the third glass of wine, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d noticed the same had happened to you.

You were a cute drunk, he thought. While a small quirk played in the corner of his lips on account of the heavy hoods pulled on over your eyes, and how your lips struggled to keep close and instead formed a pout so kissable, he was struggling not to reach over and take the offer.

But, not wanting to scare you away, he exercised restraint. On your behalf, because fuck knows you wouldn’t have done or said anything to stop him. He can see it on you even now. You haven’t got it in you. You never have. And you probably never will.

He asked you about your things. Knowing how you’ve heard about him from the news and every other channel and platform. Acting like your answers somewhat surprised him even though he’s been keeping close tabs on you as the media has on him. Probably even more so.

You’d put on a dress for him. It was nothing special compared to what he’d seen others wear at hero galas, but the thought alone was sweeter and more intoxicating than the wine in his glass. 

To think, he could just lift the frill and see you. Touch you. Feel you. He probably would have if he were still your bully, but over the expanse of his hero training, he’d realized he wasn’t any such silly thing as your enemy.

No… Pro-Hero Dynamight may have his admirers and his foes, but as for the man behind the mask.

Bakugou Katsuki,

is your number-one fan.

And he wasn’t embarrassed by it anymore. He wanted you to know it, wanted to smother you with it. He loved you. He wanted you. He needed you.

And he’d make sure no one else would dare even think about taking you from him. 

And he’d make sure the thought wouldn’t dare cross your mind either.

He announced your relationship in interviews, had it written on all his platforms, and told every single one of his pining fans. It hadn’t even been a week since you met, and he’d already claimed you before the world, and you…

Well, you didn’t really know what the fuck you were doing.

You’d been ambushed and stormed into surrender before you even knew what was happening. All that was left now was to try and… well… make peace with it. 

Kachan was like a new person. You were unsure whether that was a fact or just you trying to convince yourself you don’t feel his old self in how he brazenly puts his hands on you. Having you swallow your own shaky breaths as he wraps his heavy, hefty, muscled arms around your much smaller body.

Or how you fear being bitten, swallowing your heart, when he leans down to kiss you.

Even now, a week into your relationship, you’re still on edge. Awkwardly regarding yourself in his bathroom mirror. The one-week anniversary present he’d gotten for you lying open on the glass counter. 

Pretty shades of chiffon were still left inside the expensive box as you’d taken its primary contents and layered your naked self with them.

Dewdrops from your shower disturbed your reflection. Though within the streaks you’d made with your hand, anyone could see how clearly uncomfortable you were. Dressed in the new set of clothes he’d gotten you. 

Or… 

Clothes was a generous term for it as it was nothing more than silky lingerie. 

Rich red lined your skin in sexy floral patterns as the sheer lace perfectly caressed your curves in expensive designer you could never afford and transparent in a way you would never dare buy for yourself even if you could.

And along with the looming disorienting surreal understanding that your childhood bully was no doubt expecting to fuck you tonight, your chest felt tight, and your head was so horridly hot, reeling with memories, flashes in the reflection of the mirror staring back at you. Times you’d cry your eyes out for hours looking at yourself because the boy on the opposite side of the door had you convinced you were the ugliest thing in the entire world.

The dinner you’d shared together earlier must have made you sick since you could taste blood on your tongue, or perhaps it was just the hopeless situation. Nevertheless, you feared that if you left the safety of the bathroom now, you might just vomit from the fever. Or faint-

“You pass out in there?” Came a loud knock on the door, shaking you from your thoughts and reminding you to breathe again. “Come on out, I wanna see you. I don’t care if it’s a little tight.” He ordered, in a voice similar to the schoolyard punk that sometimes still haunts your dreams. Though now belonged to the man he’d grown into, the one waiting for you on his bed just behind the door.

You bit your lip, brows crinkling, a small sigh leaving you in the pitiful form of a whimper before you swallowed a mixture of pride and anxiety. Ripping your gaze from yourself, you made to unlock the door and reveal yourself.

You couldn’t look at him, but looking down at yourself was equally embarrassing, where you stood nearly naked in the nippy air of his bedroom while he, still fully dressed with suit and tie, sat patiently or impatiently waiting for you to come closer.

“Fuck-” He groaned, his tongue gracing the top row of his teeth as his eyes drank in the pretty sight of your perfect body all dressed up for him. 

You were too pretty to be this shy. But then again, that was probably his fault. 

“Come ‘ere.” He urged, wringing his blazer off and loosening his tie before throwing it to the single chair placed in the corner of the room, keenly watching as you took your small cautious steps until you were just within reach, where his hands hungrily pounced for you. 

His hot course fingers touched your skin with greed. Grabbing into your soft flesh, he pulled you to him. Having no reservations about what and how he touched, as his entire hand squeezed your ass like you were playdough.

“Sit.” He ordered while tugging you down on his lap. His thick arm wrapped around your waist as you sat on him like Santa. Fingering the straps of lace at your hip, he stared at your cute nipples through the see-through lace of your bra.

He popped open the first few buttons to his dark burgundy shirt, finding himself getting hotter, and you had to bite your lip at how tight the smooth silk of it was around his muscles and how warm he was against your naked skin. 

He hugged you closer against his chest, and your breathing thinned again into a tiny gasp, making him show teeth. “So skittish-” He chuckled, his voice softly amused while kneading your thigh in his toasty and textured palm. “You still afraid I'm gonna push you around like back in middle school?” He asked with a grin, his hot breath fanning against your neck while his lips ghosted the peachfuzz of your cheek.

You fidgeted with your hands on your lap, squeezing your thighs tighter together. Eyes bashfully staring down at the large bruise-knuckled paw petting your knee. Scars littered it like a cutting board.

“Come on…” He drawled as his hand lifted, leaving your thigh cold in its absence, where he made to handle your chin and cheek for you to look at him. “I ain't that shitty anymore, am I?”

You wiggled a bit on account of his raw ruby-red eyes connecting with your shy gaze. Ears on fire since teased by the smooth tone his voice had slipped into, surprised by how it slithered around your pounding heart and pooled in your gut and tickled your cunt where you sat on the bump on his slacks that only hardened the more you squirmed.

“No need to be scared, princess. I don’t bite like I used to. I promise~” He blew against your lips. “I've matured.”

The nickname princess sounded so similar to something else he used to call you. The memory of it taking an equal toll on your body as his touches, further making you shiver on goosebumps while his hand dipped from caressing your face to stroking the soft skin of your neck. Slipping between the valley of your breasts until he settled for cupping one of the two in his hand. Playing with the lace while teasing the visible nipple beneath, smiling once it perked beneath his fingertips.

“You've matured too, huh?” He added, his lips at your ear, ticklish and warm, making your head drum, a tiny squeak leaving you once he flicked your earlobe with his tongue. “You used to look like a little boy before.” He laughed, and you bounced and swallowed thickly as his hand dropped down to your lap again. This time close to your panty, where your thigh was fattest and most sensitive.

The other hand remained at your hip and pulled you even tighter against him while the former stroked the plush chunk of flesh, visibly getting drunk on your softness where his breath had become rugged with restraint.

“I mean, I didn't even think of you as a girl before you started wearing those cute little school skirts.” He reminisced. 

Elementary school…

When new uniforms separated boys from girls and you from him. 

“You fucked us up with that, y'know?” He scolded, giving you a harder squeeze. “You were one of the guys, and then, boom-” He tsked. “Suddenly, such a tease.”

Your brows furled as your lips pursed into a pout, while your stomach started to fold in all types of uneasy ways by the even darker shift in his tone. 

“Too pretty to play in the mud.” He scoffed in a whisper, his nose bumping your temple as you bowed your head even lower, swallowing thickly while suppressing the familiar urge to cry and beg him to stop. Almost expecting him to bite you. “Too pretty for me.”

“Ow-” His hands pinched you just a bit too recklessly, and you popped up from your seat on his lap with a jolt and a wince. 

“Sorry.” He offered lazily, keeping his hold on you. 

Spreading his thighs, he pulled you between them. 

“It’s hard to control myself.” He excused, his hands lowering on your waist as he leveled his head with your belly before crouching forward to cuddle you with his cheek. “You're just so fucking perfect.” He mumbled while giving the pinch mark on your thigh a kiss, his stubble scratching the delicate skin found there.

His words made your head ache, splitting you between contradicting emotions for him, tormenting you to the point that tears pooled in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks, dripping onto his shirt.

“Don’t cry.” He murmured while his warm worn thick fingers snaked about in between your spread legs and dragged heavily up the thin fabric protecting your cunt.

And despite everything, you still moaned out, though a somewhat feeble whine. And he voiced in another rumbling tone soaked with lust he no longer could contain.

“Let me make it up to you.”

You were a second later thrown down on your back with a bounce on the bed, where he undid the intricacies of your lace-up in a matter of split-felt moments like the single beat of your galloping heart. 

“I know you don’t trust me.” He added amidst the heat of his actions. “But I love you, princess-” He urged while kneeling near the bed-end, throwing your thighs over his shoulders. “And I’m gonna prove it to you.”

No part of you was ready for him, but at the same time, all of you were too accepting. With the moan that spilled from your chest like overfilled honeycomb and how your hands stilled in surrender at the feel of his hot eager tongue meeting your cunt.

His spikey ashen hair tickled your thighs as the stubble on his chin and cheeks lightly scratched you with every word of worship his lips mouthed into your core. And your chest arched off the bed as you lost your mind to what you’d gotten yourself into.

Torn between fear of him and lust for him, wondering if you had any pride left in you whatsoever or if he’d finally tightened the chokehold and squeezed it free of any life.

His tongue focused on your clit as he raised a hand between you, filling you with one of his thick fingers. Smirking against your heat at the feel of you clenching on him.

He saw you grip the sheets in tiny fists and looked up to see you trying to hide your embarrassment in his pillows. Chuckling, he added another finger and listened to you whimper out a moan with an involuntary buck of your hips.

He began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt with his free hand, bottom to the top, wrestling it off with somewhat of a handicapped struggle. Growing impatient as he moved down to unzip himself, pulling down the restraints before tugging on his own needy arousal. With precum spilling in pearls from his head, the pent-up beast sprung with a surge against his abs as he jerked himself and continuously gorged on you. 

He dropped his pants and boxers entirely as he made to crawl on top of you, sloppy kisses laid in wet trails up your body while his fingers slipped from your cunt so both hands could grab into your soft thighs and spread them to each side of his torso until you felt the weight of his throbbing cock bob against your belly.

You looked down to see it blushed red and wet with arousal, swollen into a threat and pumped to attack you. He noticed your stare and how he made you squirm, prompting him to grab your chin and have you look up at him instead.

You were the tiniest thing beneath him. And under the shade of his dark red eyes, you had your heart in your throat as well as a never-ending thrum of whimpers.

“You ready for me, princess?” He asked with a kiss to your lips, smeared wet across your cheek to nip at your neck.

And though you were anything but certain, you still made to tell him what he wanted to hear. But, with his hot mouth softly biting all the weak spots on your throat, you could only hum in return. However, managing to give a slight nod while your hands lifted from the sheets. Caressing the warm toughness topping you, your gentle fingers slid over the toned muscles of his back, tangling themselves into the short ashen locks at his neck while your legs wrapped around his torso. 

All in an effort to tell him yes, as you were all but rendered speechless by the delicate way he handled you. 

You were as cute and timid with humility as always, he thought, like a breath of fresh air and clear blue skies after breaching the rubble and smoke of battle.

He cupped your breast in one hand, teasing your nipple between his thumb and index, and grabbed himself with the other. Rubbing his cockhead over your pearl and dipping in between your folds. 

He pushed inside, and you whined, tensing at the stretch, and he stopped as though worried. 

“You okay?” He asked, and your heart leaped while he messaged your hip in encouragement until you relaxed again before continuing.

He dug his hands into your thighs, spreading you wider as he bottomed out inside you. And your toes curled with your moan as you clenched around him, his teeth gritting at the tight fit while groaning right at your ear.

“Fuck-” He sighed, his lips ghosting your cheekbones as his eyes scanned your pretty face. Hugging onto him with your hands, with your legs pulling him closer. Moaning so sweetly, small little mews just for him.

He could never get enough of those sounds.

He was going to wait at least a month. He figured that would be enough time. Enough time to make all the right moves. He was going to date you, breed you, reunite you with his parents, reintroduce himself to yours, have you move in with him, and then endgame.

But with the ring box in the drawer right next to the bed, he thought he might as well…

There was no way you’d say no anyway. 

You’ve already let him get this far. 

There is just no way…

No way you’d dare. 

tip-jar: Kofi

[shaunashipman]

Pardon if you've already discussed this specifically! This has just weighing on my mind again because I keep seeing unjustified points in posts of fans (stans) trying to provide evidence to validate their hate 👀

I get canon vs. fanon. I know we (all) see something happen once or repeatedly and think it has more significance than what it probably does, and it's fun to fantasize. I also understand in fandoms, generally as a whole, we'll (all) be like "ehh yeah let's pretend that didn't just happen!" Like when a character dies or when trying to bleach our brains from seeing something inappropriate. You know, coping with a loss or trying to make the show watchable/toleratable still. Right? My confusion these last 5 months or so is people wanting to use "it's implied" because of personal feelings and not factual reasonings based on the episodes or "I didn't see it so it didn't happen!" to disregard one side but then will use those same points to prove they're right because they're upset about what's canon. Does that make sense? I know they don't care about the hypocrisy, but they can't be serious... personal feelings still don't make it canon 🤨

Strongest example(s) being "whether Tommy apologized" split between "it's repeatedly implied as they all hung out outside of work and had continuous contact throughout the years and they more than likely wouldn't befriend him if he didn't or still acted the same given their standards" against "we never saw him say 'sorry' so he wasn't actually forgiven since... WE didn't see it" leading us to "the 118/fam don't like Tommy because of their facial expressions and how they responded to him." As they said before, if it wasn't aired, it's not canon... unless it fits their agenda. They seem to mix and match and decide what's appropriate for canon to fit their needs. I see them choosing which particular bts, unused promo, or deleted scenes as they please because it's "good" for their ship/character, but turning around and saying the opposite, if it wasn't aired during an episode it didn't happen, if it challenges their desires...

Why is it that they'll use the HenRen/Tommy deleted scene as an "interpretation" of HK questioning or as they say "not approving" of Tommy as something canon because it "proves" whatever they're making up about anti TK/BT, but won't accept and even denied the implication Tommy's "maybe apology" because it wasn't seen? And at the same time, they also want to say Eddie only strictly "emotionally cheated because they didn't air the kiss," but Ramon canonically said "He (Christopher) said he came home and caught you kissing his dead mother" and Eddie said "it's a little true" not in regards to the kissing but to it being "Shannon" but still they'll swear up and down Kim and Eddie NEVER canonically kissed because it wasn't seen?? Like neither was the "shovel talk" so 🤦🏾‍♀��

Dumbfounded... 😅

So let me get this straight. HenRen/Tommy scene wasn't aired, but it's still canon... Kim/Eddie kiss edit version wasn't aired but verbally confirmed during airing also not canon... and Tommy's apology that was not scripted but implied, most definitely, not canon... ???

I know there's no logic, but I can't wrap my head around it no matter how hard I try to comprehend it 😂 I honestly try to not to think negativity about shippers and stans but wow I'm confused lol

so, I'm actually writing a meta right now that touches on a lot of what you're saying, so I'm gonna leave that for now, but I will talk about the deleted kiss

I've said before, I don't consider deleted scenes canon, I call them "schrodinger's canon". we can certainly treat them as canon for fandom stuff and also spec, but if the show contradicts them, it's not a ret-con. so to me, the henren tommy scene is not actually canon. it seems like it was probably just cut for time, so I have no problem with people treating it like canon, so long as they understand that it can be discarded very easily.

so in that vein, the eddiekim kiss isn't canon to me. it was cut, and probably not for time, but because they felt it didn't fit. I don't see ramon's line as contradicting that in any way. the doylist explanation is probably that they intended to have them kiss, as it was filmed, but then decided against it after having already filmed the finale

the watsonian explanation is, chris could very well be embellishing, OR it's that he's a traumatized teenager who walked in on his dad embracing a women who looks like his dead mother. in between seeing that and calling his grandparents, it's very possible his brain distorted it and he really does think they were kissing.

but emotional cheating is still cheating. I wouldn't even put a qualifier on it, it's just cheating. idc that you never kissed, the other woman was clearly under the impression you were in a relationship, however chaste of one, it's cheating. you think if kim hadn't shown up at the firehouse and buck went to talk to eddie, that it wouldn't have ended with them fucking? eddie was fantasizing about sex within a day, they would have fucked and he would have called her shannon, and it would have been gloriously messy, and much better than what we got.

also, I feel like comparing the deleted kiss to the deleted henren tommy scene is uneven. let's talk about the kiss and the potential eddie/tommy pairing. cause either deleted content matters or it doesn't. if them cutting the kiss means it didn't happen and eddie "only" emotionally cheated, then any possibility of eddie/tommy is also irrelevant. cause they got far enough to film the kiss, while eddie/tommy was only talked about, and we don't even know how briefly.

anyway, this is a little disjointed, but I'm gonna go work on that meta that'll hopefully be clearer

[please-someone-give-me-love]

There's always the same debate about Gear 5 and the seriousness of a fight and I can get both point of views. I think it's valid to want Luffy be serious when it came for a fight with enemies but at the same time y'all have to remember that being serious hasn't even being the main point of fights in one piece, Oda has always showed Luffy being goofy around enemies with their respective serious moments but it wasn't always 100% serious, now, with the Gear 5, which Oda choose to focus on an especific theme of joy and freedom, it seems more coherent to be even funnier and goofier.

I don't think he is not gonna be 100% playing, we have seen in some previous chapter how he was able to be serious but the effects in Gear 5 on him are another stuff.

I think right now we are seeing a really key point on tje story on which type of direction Luffy as a character is going on, not only in the storytelling but in his fiction. A lot of characters in anime came to a point when they need to be stronger and when they get to be stronger the work became bland or they purposely got nerfed to benefit the storytelling and I think Oda has come to that key point in which he can't do Luffy being super stronger because it would lose the point of the story and make him some mc more or made him super weaker which will basically make people feel that everything wasn't worth it.

I remember people being upaet because they believed that Luffy got nerfed at the befinning at the arc when he uses the Gear 5 to fight Lucci and now some people are upset he is not getting any harm or looking 'too godly' playing around the elders

I think some people forget that the Gear 5 makes Luffy happier than ever, not only as a fighting method but as a part of himself, Luffy's main goal is to be the freest and the Gear 5 is making him be free as he wants, him fighting Lucci in G5 wasn't as a way to be afraid but to recognize his opponent and enjoy the fight. Gear 5 makes Luffy possible to survive to elders until now and to gave Bonney hope, one of the most impactful quotes that I think it defined certainly what's going on was when Zoro called Luffy out in Punk Hazard, when he told him that they weren't playing around anymore after Luffy being defeated for not giving his 100% effort on his fight.

I think it shows here that Luffy is giving 100% of himself no matter if the opponent could be weaker or stronger, he is recognizing the danger of them and fighting with everything he got.

For other part, while I understand wanting certain seriousness, let's not judge a battle for so little time even that we had got serious moments with the Gear 5, I doubt all the battle is gonna be like serious or goofy.

[jamiesfootball]

📓

CONGRATULATIONS. YOU ARE THE LUCKY WINNER OF THE LONGEST RESPONSE. I'M SO SORRY.

Welcome to my Jamie can have more than 1 2 3 4 best friends agenda starring Isaac McAdoo From Isaac’s perspective See the one thing Isaac always had a thing about is people seeing him on his own merits. He knows all too well that his image fits a stereotype—there’s nothing he can do to change that—but what he can do is put the effort in to make sure the other parts of him shine through. So he studies up: on fashion, on kinesics, on Shakespeare. Anything he’s interested in, he puts the effort in. So it’s not enough for Roy to give him the captain’s band- he has to earn it. He has to put the effort in, or it doesn’t count as his.

Then there’s Colin. Colin came to Richmond during the same transfer period as Isaac, and from day one they've been getting scolded for talking during video review. Colin is easy; they share a wavelength. A silliness. Colin is judgy and a bit hot tempered, but also completely easy-going with whatever Isaac suggests. He’s never had to try hard with Colin. When Jamie shows up at Richmond the first time there’s a bit of that too. He’s got some of their silliness and humor, though it’s shrouded in dickish overtones. He’s more willing than Colin is to push back if he doesn’t like something, but there isn’t much he isn’t willing to go along with when Isaac suggests it. Plus Jamie thinks it’s funny when Colin gets into a proper bitch session (Isaac agrees). But Isaac thought Jamie appreciated him for the other stuff. He never came at Isaac the way he came at Sam about the football stuff, so he always assumed that Jamie could see that Isaac was putting the work in. That he respected the effort of trying to do well on a team that wasn’t doing well, but was certainly trying to do better. That he respected Isaac. Then Isaac was throwing a chair through a tv, and more fool on Isaac then- Jamie never respected any of them at all. But Roy gave him the captain's band and Isaac McAdoo always earns what he’s given, so when Jamie comes back to Richmond he knows it’s on him to set an example.

He lets the other lads take the lead, but mentally Isaac’s prepared to have it out if he needs to show Jamie who’s in charge this time around. It doesn’t come to that. Jamie comes sulking back in like a puppy who’s new and nervous to play with the big dogs. He stands there and apologizes. He takes it when the lads throw at him the same complaints that Isaac’s been fielding since he took on the armband- from the valid (Sam’s stewing anger) to the less valid (Richard deserved it) to the….Isaac isn’t sure (‘he unfollowed all of us on Twitter, Dani. It wasn’t just you’).

Jamie never challenges Isaac’s claim to leadership. It irks something awful, and something in Isaac suspects that Jamie still doesn’t respect him.

Then the gaffer goes mental one day, yelling at them like a Loony Tunes character, and Jamie’s the only one of them to say anything about it. Isaac should’ve said something. Someone needed to call the coach out and he should’ve done it. He keeps telling himself to do better as a captain, but then these situations crop up and he doesn’t know what to do until after the thing has happened.

But Jamie didn’t look at him after like he was trying to steal Isaac’s lead. If anything he looked confused, bewildered when the team gave him props for standing up for them. No, it wasn’t a power move on his part. He was just doing the right thing. The right thing that Isaac should’ve done.

Isaac games it out with Colin, the Jamie mess. Colin reassures him that it was a funky situation and that the lads knows Isaac is trying his best. Colin wouldn’t lie to him.

So Isaac figures ‘you get what you give’ right? If Jamie’s going to make an effort, then so is he. If he wants Jamie’s respect, he’ll give a little first. Isaac makes an effort to grease the way on Jamie coming back into the fold. He’s got a handshake with everybody on the team and he makes of point of showing everyone on the pitch that Jamie’s got one too (had one before the rest of them, if he’s being honest; had one since back when they used to hit the clubs together). It’s easier than he thought it’d be, folding Jamie back in to club nights, movie nights, the occasional cheat day brunch.

One morning they’re sipping on cheat-day mimosas at Colin’s (and watching the highlights from the game from the night before in a time-honored tradition of not even pretending they don’t have egos) and Colin finally cracks and tells Jamie his stupid gelled back hair last year made him look like a luge runner. Isaac is proud—that’s the longest Colin’s ever kept his opinion to himself. Jamie snorts orange juice on himself; Colin yells about his couch. Jamie tells them that he was just revisiting old haunts and the mood struck him, yeah? Swear I won’t do it again.

Isaac tells him he better not. Reflects poorly on him as captain if one of his crew shows up looking like a twat. He throws it out without thinking. It’s the first time he’s given voice to the new hierarchy between them and he’s not sure how Jamie will respond.

Jamie responds by complaining that the orange juice burned his nose. Then by texting Isaac the next morning, a photo of himself in the mirror rocking one of those puffy vests he likes and a stiff collared button-up shirt Isaac wouldn’t be caught dead in. His hair is gelled back, but it doesn’t look too awful with the halfway decent fade he sports these days (Isaac could do better, he’s just saying).

The text says, “all good cap??”

Isaac texts back a photo of himself. “needs work bruv”

He’s not sure if its respect, but it’s something good. Something that makes him crack jokes, and hang off of Sam’s shoulders, and defend Isaac’s artistry with the razor to Jan like it’s his own honor at stake. (This in spite of the fact that Jamie has never, not once cashed in his free yearly haircut).

It’s all good and then Wembley happens and Isaac thinks that maybe the real issue is that Jamie’s never seen what respect looks like in his life. Maybe the flaw was never in Isaac as a captain or a player, if this was the man who should’ve taught him what it looked like in the first place.

He tests the waters when Jamie comes to him and Colin panicked after the funeral and tells them he pulled some stupid shit with Keeley (‘the funeral got to me. I don’t know why I said that—Roy’s going to murder me’). Jamie’s got himself all worked up that Roy’s going to talk to the gaffer and they’re going to send him packing—as if—and Isaac tells him full stop that the only way through it is to be responsible for his actions. Tell Roy the truth. Tell him you didn’t mean to step on his relationship, and that you respect him.

Because Jamie does respect Roy. Isaac knows that much. He can see it in the way Jamie followed him around like a lost duckling when Roy first came back to coach. Now that he knows what he’s looking for, he can see it a lot in how Jamie looks at Ted when Ted is doing one of his Ted-talks. He can see it in how Jamie looks at Sam when Sam talks about how Twitter still won’t lay off about the Dubai Air thing but he refuses to let them treat him with disrespect but he also refuses to stoop to their level. Jamie’s respect looks a lot like awe and wonder with just a hint of confusion. Jamie never looks at Isaac like that.

Jamie does take his advice though, and by the end of the season him and Roy seem square. Isaac’ll take the win.

Colin complains that when Roy headbutted him, he got a concussion, but when Jamie gets headbutted he gets a hug.

Isaac and Jamie both go in for a very sarcastic hug at the same time. Maximum silliness reinstated. All is right in the world.

Zava arrives and Isaac, for a while, finds himself swayed and forgetting his purpose as a captain. It’s something he’ll look back at and regret, like the Loony Tunes situation, how he got so caught up in the flow of things that he forgot to ask himself what he should be doing as a captain.

Zava sticks around and Colin gets moved to second string. That, Isaac notices. He may not be the captain he should be, but he knows how to be there for his best friend.

Zava leaves. Isaac, faced with his shortcomings, doesn’t handle it well. He over-corrects and insists on everybody bonding in Amsterdam. He keeps half an eye on the hotel door so he can flag Jamie over when Roy’s done with him, but the night comes and goes and the two of them never show up. When they catch the bus the next morning, the two of them seem better, settled and relaxed the way Roy hasn’t looked all year. Isaac puts that down as another thing to learn: bonding ain’t just about the team. Sometimes the coaches need it too. A year ago he might’ve been worried about Jamie stepping on his heels. He hasn't worried about that in a while.

When Total Football goes awry, he over-corrects again but in the opposite way. Lashes out at Jamie for not scoring goals at his end of the pitch, while Isaac hasn't been holding up his half of the job either. But Jamie's the one with the strategy, and he explains it in a way that makes it seem so obvious to Isaac afterwards.

Jamie has respect now. From the team. From the coaches. From Isaac.

And there's Isaac, and he's still missing shit that should be so obvious.

“I told you boyo. You’re seeing things that aren’t there. You don’t have nothing to worry about,” Colin tells him one week.

The next week finds Isaac footing it after his best friend because Colin's a judgmental arsehole when he wants to be, but this time he's off the mark. The ladies who sent photos to their fellas didn't do anything wrong. Whatever girls sent photos to Colin, Isaac will sort it out. He's not happy that this is the side that Colin’s come down on, but they’ll work it out. He’s his best friend; they’ll work it out. He doesn’t have anything to worry about.

It takes holding Colin's phone in his hand for Isaac to realize he's never seen his best friend with a girl.

It’s like he’s the epicenter of an atom bomb, the way the world fizzles away to nothing in his ears, thoughts blown far from the radius until all he could do is hand the phone back and walk away.

Another one of those things he should’ve noticed, but didn’t. Except worse.

He tells Colin everything, and it feels like Colin’s lied about everything.

It hurts. It’s a ball of rage so deep it takes him out at the knees, and it makes him want to do worse than throw a chair at the TV.

For the next month there’s no cheat-day mimosas. There’s no impromptu late-night FIFA matches and avoiding Roy’s wrath when he catches them yawning the next morning. Colin slinks around him in the locker room and makes jokes with the other lads and looks to Isaac for a sign of a smile like this is just a tiff. Like any day now Isaac’s going to roll his eyes and say ‘okay I’m over it we’re square now.’

Isaac doesn’t know how to be over it. He feels himself tearing up just thinking too hard about it. When he doesn’t say anything back and Colin looks away in disappointment, Isaac wants to do worse than throw chairs.

Isaac’s always tried to make sure he gets what he deserves, but he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this.

If this were anybody else it wouldn’t be happening, he’d call Colin and game plan that shit. But it is Colin, and given the potentially sensitive nature, what Isaac really needs is someone who won’t ask too many questions.

That’s what he tells himself when he hits up Jamie to see if he can carve out some time to grab a drink with Isaac, between Roy’s insane extra workouts and the team’s new everyday insane workouts.

He needn’t have worried about spilling any secrets. Jamie wasn't Colin. Colin had an unassuming way of under-reacting that makes you feel like you could tell him anything and he wouldn’t bat an eye. Which is false—what he actually does is he lets you pour your heart out and then tells you you’re being an idiot (judgmental prick).

Jamie on the other hand finds a bone to pick and then natters you into fighting over it, and before Isaac knows it they’ve spent two hours arguing about the end of Inception and he hasn’t once thought about Colin and the huge, stupid secret Isaac’s got locked inside his chest.

Isaac invites Jamie out again two nights later, when the breathing gets tough. Then again on the weekend, when its starting to dawn on Isaac how a Colin-less life makes a calendar feel like an empty hallway after the party’s over.

He spends a month patching over the Colin-holes with Jamie-shaped gauze.

For a shit month, it's pretty enjoyable.

Around week two they go on a shopping spree. An honest to god break out the champagne full fucking wardrobe shopping spree. (Colin doesn’t really like shopping; Jamie isn’t Colin). When they finish ransacking the first store, Jamie lays down his card and tells the shop assistants, "It’s on me." Isaac gets the tab at the next place. He talks Jamie into expanding his pallet to include more summer colors – sneaks a sky blue hoodie into the pile when Jamie isn’t looking – and in return Jamie hypes him up to hell and back, saying he looks mad fit every time he comes out of the dressing room while daring Isaac into trying some basic color blocks ("Not everything needs a print, mate"). He even finds Isaac a pair of pink-tinted sunglasses that are surprisingly tasteful.

The thing is it's become a habit, Jamie hyping him up. Going on a year later, most days him and Jamie are still swapping pictures of their outfits each day. Slowly but surely, Jamie's style has stopped looking like ‘DSQUARED2 but only the lame parts.' His style now is fresher, more dialed in. Occasionally, Isaac will admit, he looks fucking fly. Not as fly as Isaac, but the effort's there.

(Colin’s fashion choices are atrocious—if he ever complimented him, Isaac would burn the outfit on the spot.)

When they finally split afterwards, Jamie pulls him into a tight hug and thanks him like Isaac’s the one who’s done him the big favor, instead of Jamie being the one anchoring Isaac to sanity.

After a month he's mad at Colin, and he’s mad at himself for still being mad at Colin. He doesn't know how to fix it.

But no one, absolutely no one, is allowed to throw hate at Colin.

The damn breaks when Isaac isn’t ready, and then Roy's pulling him back and he's in the locker room yelling and all the unfairness and the anger and the guilt and the missing-Colin boils to the surface, and Isaac is gonna cry if he doesn’t get out of there.

Isaac isn’t so far gone that he forgets about the armband, the weight of the thing he’s earned but certainly doesn’t deserve right now. He leaves with Sam, with his steadiness and grace and discernment. He'll either keep it safe or give it back, depending on which way the scales tip for Isaac when he leaves the room.

Roy sets him straight. A year ago Roy’s lessons were sharper, lessons under streetlamps that you had to fight through yourself. Since Amsterdam, he’s been as soft with the team as Isaac’s ever seen him. He doesn’t know what Jamie did to bring that out, but he feels a similar softness in himself when Jamie corners him after the game to tell him what went down in the locker room after he left.

Colin came out to the team.

Colin came out to the team for Isaac.

“Everyone was really supportive about it,” Jamie reassures him. He’s tugging his ear, an awkward tick he’s picked up from Sam, and he’s not quite looking Isaac in the eye but Isaac can’t look anybody in the eye right now either so that checks out. “About him, but also about you, in case it were you too.”

That'd be a new level of drama even for this team. Isaac snorts. “Nah, it wasn’t me.”

Jamie huffs, “Yeah. Didn’t think so.” Then he pauses for a second and adds, “But if it ever was something, you could let us know, yeah? We’re here for Colin. We’d be here for you too. If you're upset about something, you can just tell us. You don't got to spend a month making excuses to hang out.”

It’s Isaac’s turn to instigate one of those crushing hugs. Jamie hugs back just as tight.

There’s too much going on for one day, a red card and Roy Kent telling him to calm down and sort himself out and Colin—fuck he’s got to talk to Colin—but one of these days—

—it’s been poking at the back of his mind, the way that Jamie sometimes is a bit like a can of Lynx. It smells like Lynx and it looks like Lynx but sometimes Isaac suspects he only thinks that because he saw the label first. Another one of those things that he learns that'll make more sense after Isaac figures it out, he’s sure. That's for another day.

For now Colin hears him out. Colin lets him talk. Colin says something about one-percent uncertainty feeling like ninety-nine percent terror, and it strikes a chord, harmonizing with the uncertainty he’d felt over the idea that if Colin lied about one thing, then Colin lied about everything.

Colin doesn’t lie to him. Isaac should’ve remembered that. He should’ve let the ninety-nine percent truth bury out the one-percent lie.

Colin does that thing where he lets Isaac talk himself into numerous dumb dead-ends and only sort of mocks him for it afterwards. Judgmental prick. Lighthearted arsehole. Isaac missed him.

He’s so fucking grateful for the return of Colin-time that a good month goes by. Issac doesn't clock the fact that he’s not hung out with Jamie for a while until fucking Roy Kent side-swipes him with it out of nowhere. Roy had been looking for Jamie, and Isaac quips without thinking, "why would I know where he is? I thought you two were attached at the hip these days?"

Roy grits his teeth and says, "Would’ve thought you’d know, you being best friends and all."

He says it with emphasis, like he’s quoting something. Someone. Jamie. Like he’s quoting Jamie.

He says it as if it’s not news to Isaac’s ears.

He says it and Isaac feels like a fucking idiot. He'd replaced his actual best friend with Jamie for like a month, and Jamie had let him even though Jamie knew Isaac was full of shit and making excuses to hang out. And Jamie was being supportive, stepping back and skipping out on cheat-day mimosas while Colin and Isaac re-navigated years’ worth of late-night conversations, now with the pronouns flipped over.

Colin was Isaac’s best friend. But if Jamie thought Isaac was his best friend—

Well.

Isaac wasn’t in the habit of keeping things he hadn’t earned. If Jamie thought Isaac was his best friend, then Isaac was going to earn it.

Maybe he could convince him to start with a haircut.

[frangipanilove]

Señor Dixon Goes To Spain?

Let’s indulge in some wild speculating, based exclusively on hypotheticals and wishful thinking.

Well well well! Daryl might be going to Spain! Excellent choice, it’s a beautiful country, I highly recommend, 10/10. And while it seems to have been officially confirmed just now, it’s not entirely surprising for people who’ve been paying attention.

We heard a reference to Spain already back in TWDDD 1x1 L’âme Perdue, when Isabel showed Daryl around the convent, and they came across a radio. Isabel mentioned that the last person she’d been in contact with was a Spaniard a few months ago:

When seemingly random stuff like this gets brought up, it’s normally fair to assume it’s symbolism or foreshadowing, and I felt pretty certain Spain would come up again sooner or later.

Then later, we meet Losang. He’s the leader of the Nest, and he first came in contact with the nuns and Laurent on his way back from a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. "Compostela" refers to "the field of stars" under which the pilgrims traveled, a reference to the Milky Way.

That certainly tickles my TD brain, concidering how many astronomical references we have had around Beth, such as Sirius and Venus, satellites and eclipses to name a few.

Camino de Santiago to Santiago de Compostela is one of the world's most famous pilgrimages, and can be reached through a number of different routes. Isabel's convent was situated relatively close to the starting point of the French Way:

I have a whole theory in my drafts on potential references to El Camino de Santiago from years ago, which I might have to revisit now. Also, keep in mind that the working title of TWDDD was "Pilgrim":

But the most compelling thing about filming in Spain is an absolutely brilliant discovery made by @galadrieljones back when the final season of FTWD aired. We see Dwight, Morgan and Sherry share a scene, and a series of coordinates were given, supposedly to a P.A.D.R.E repeater station.

In reality, the coordinates corresponded with an area of the Atlantic Ocean near an archipelago called the Canary Islands. The islands, though situated off the coast of west Africa, are Spanish territory, and are famous (and slightly infamous, to be honest) for hordes of pale, vitamin D-deficient, sun-deprived north Europeans like myself as a holiday destination.

The part of it that’s particularly interesting for TD is that the etymology of the word Canary/Canarias shows it is derived from Latin “Canis”, meaning dog.

And as we know, that’s Sirius symbolism. Sirius means return/rebirth/resurrection. It refers to Sirius the Dog Star, who returns to the sky one morning right before dawn, after having been “just gone” for some time. I've written many posts on that, here's one.

There’s even a particular type of dog breed that’s associated with the Canary Islands, Presa Canario:

As a fun fact, in TWDDD season 1, Daryl’s original plan to get home involved getting on a boat that would eventually take him to Newfoundland, Canada. That’s also a dog reference, it refers to Newfoundland dogs:

As I’ve been saying, dog symbolism is Sirius symbolism, we learned that from 4x13 Alone. It means return/rebirth/resurrection. Daryl’s plans to return via Newfoundland fell through when he had to save Laurent from walkers, but the symbolism of it is still valid.

And as an extra fun fact, there’s even a location on Newfoundland, Canada, with the name Canary Islands…

…do with that what you will...

Another really interesting thing about the Canary Islands is that they provide an excellent starting point for transatlantic crossings. This is due to the consistent trade winds that blow from east to west, and sailors have taken advantage of this phenomenon for centuries.

Of course, we don’t know if Daryl will make it to the Canary Islands, and even if he doesn’t, I’m still exited about Spain, for the reasons laid out above. But the potential reference to the Canary Islands through the coordinates from FTWD is a super interesting clue, and it involves dog/Sirius symbolism, which makes me very happy.

Also, the coordinates from FTWD supposedly led to a repeater station, which is a radio reference. That means, the repeater station is a Sirius symbol both as a radio reference, as well as a dog reference, in that the coordinates in reality points to a stretch of ocean near the Canary Islands.

Whatever the coordinates were meant to signify, they sure as hell didn’t point to no repeater station in Georgia.

So yeah. Might be nothing, but could be something. The off-season is for speculating.

[dreamalittledreamofcopia]

rain -- cardinal copia x reader

the weather was gloomy, rainy, and cool today in northeastern illinois and it was the perfect condition to write about warm and cozy cuddles with copia ☺️

this takes place during his cardinal days because i cannot get enough of the sweet gentle careful copia // 2.7k words, slightly nsfw banter

The forecast called for days worths of showers after a time of relative drought. The abbey was shrouded in overcast skies and the windows reflected the rain drops on the marble walls. The consistent pitter patter of rain, the constant howl of the wind, and the occasional clap of thunder and flash of lightning dominated what could be heard in the totality of the ministry. Even the click of your heels against the tile floor was hidden within the sounds of the storm.

You made your way down the halls of the ministry, smiling and waving at some of your acquaintances as you passed by. You had your reasons for joining the ministry, for leaving your old religion behind and following the Dark One. You didn't know quite what you expected, but you certainly did not expect an interesting partnership to develop between you and the Cardinal. If people wanted to meet with the Cardinal, they knew they had to speak to you, which is why you were going to his office today. Sister Imperator had blessed you with the task of showing Copia how to access the ministry’s shared hard drive, both because she didn’t want to and because she knew he would receive the tutorial better if it came from you.

You gently knocked on the door to Copia’s office, not wanting to disturb him despite the task you were given. After a few beats, you heard his chair move and his boots tread across the floor beneath the rain before the door slowly creaked open. Copia looked out above your head before turning to look down at you, a way he loved to tease you about your height. Before a word was exchanged, you huffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest. Copia was validated in your response and smirked, his mismatched eyes shining down affectionately at you.

“Ah, sorella,” he almost cooed, his voice thick with relief, as if he was expecting someone else, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

You blushed and bit the inside of your cheek to hide a smile, “Sister Imperator wants me to show you something on the ministry I Drive.” You knew your words meant nothing to him, this was confirmed by the gentle cock of his eyebrow and his confused expression. But he did enjoy listening to the sound of your voice. “Don’t worry,” you began to reassure him, “it’s easy computer stuff, you’ll get it.”

Copia let out a long sigh, as if he didn’t quite believe you, but stepped aside to let you into his office regardless. He was secretly happy to get to spend time with you, an observation you were able to glean from the rising blush on the shells of his ears. You smiled sweetly up at Copia as you walked past him into his office. He caught a whiff of your scent as you glided below him and he sighed softly, imaging what your hair looked like beneath your habit. He shut the door gently and turned towards you, “So this computer thing…?”

You nodded and began to walk towards his desk, beconing him to follow. He obliges, sitting down in his chair whilst looking up at you like he was a child waiting for his parent to do their math homework. You shook your head, amazed at how the Cardinal could be so technoligcally inept at his age. Maybe it was the years of seclusions in the Italian Alps, or his aversion form the general marketplace of ideas that kept him offline. Either way, in his new role he would have to learn how to work a computer. That was unavoidable, and you had spent hours attempting to convince Copia of this. At this point you were genuinely unsure if his ineptitude was real or if he was faking it just to have a reason to keep you around.

You leaned over his shoulder to watch his computer screen as he logged on. “Wow, Cardinal! Look how good you’re getting.” you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm and fake praise.

“Grazie, mio cara.” Copia looked up at you with a smug look on his face. He laid his hand on your bicep and ran his thumb along your arm. “There’s better things we could be doing than fussing with a computer, eh?”

You rolled your eyes and grumbled at the growing blush on your cheeks. “No, Copia, I’m teaching you how to get to the goddamn I Drive.”

“Okie dokie,” he said, a huff in his voice as he moved his hand from your arm and turned back to his computer. You leaned over his shoulder and instructed him, your cheek radiating by his, and he found it difficult to follow your guide as your sweet smelling voice wofted across his face.

Your relationship with the Cardinal was funny, to say the least. You were the only one in the abbey who could keep him on track and focussed on the task at hand. Professionally, you complimented him well. His productivity had gone up since you two had gotten closer, and you certainly made his transition and settlement into the role of Cardinal easier. There was talk of appointing you as his official assistant, as of now you remained in your role as a Sister of Sin with no changes sanctioned by Sister Imperator or Papa Nihil. It didn’t quite matter to you as you resolved to stay faithful to the Cardinal no matter status or position in the ministry. You saw how much he needed you after your first few days of randomly helping him, and it was beyond you how anyone could do the job alone.

Personally, you complimented him well. He enjoyed being around you. You had quickly became his best friend and your presence always put him at ease. He didn’t know if it was your aura or your personality or what, but something drew him to you and he began to depend on you to get through his day. He thought about you at night, when the bathroom was steamed over him his shower and he leaned his flustered head against the wall, low groans mixing with the sound of water falling down the drain. Unbeknownst to you, the Ghouls had a bet going to see when Copia would crack and confess his all-consuming feelings for you.

The dynamic and banter you shared wasn’t just confined to his office, but people were beginning to take notice all across the abbey. The lost look in his eyes when he was without you, the gentle smile that came over him when you sought him out. You made him feel special, adequate, whole, and the adroation that was born out of that was evident in the air around him.

You noticed it. You basked in it, reveled in it. His reliance on you made you feel important. You nursed the fallacy in your head that the papacy would fall apart without you, but the truth was it very well could have. Imperator knew that, so she avoided discussing the potential romance with you completely. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and she didn’t want to know what was going on until it became a problem. You assumed that Imperator was assuming that you and Copia were together and you never bothered to correct her. Nothing ever did happen though, despite a few close encounters, but it was nothing that a few cold showers couldn’t fix.

After a frustrating twenty minutes, Copia knew how to access files in the drive that was shared on all of the ministry computers. He could access anything he had to, and he promised you that he would review the documents Imperator wanted him to see in the first place. He tucked his nose into your hair and kissed your cheek in thanks, a gesture that always left him satisfied and left you flustered.

Today was no different. You rolled your eyes to act like that little kiss didn’t mean anything to you, but you knew Copia knew you well enough to tell it was an act.

“Sorella,” he spoke softly, turning in his swivel chair to face you, “the rain’s reflection in your eyes is absolutely captivating.”

“Thank you, Cardinal,” you blushed as he moved to hold both of your hands in his, “you’re far too kind.” That was your default response to his flirtation and compliments. It drove him quickly.

“Do you think the abbey is cold today?” Copia tilted his head to the side and kept smiling, soft and sweet. “I think it’s cold today.”

Copia’s office had a few giant windows on the same wall, all of them letting in a tender glow from the rain and allowing the cooler air seep in through the glass. The pseudo wind did chill you to your bones and you moved to sit on the Cardinal’s desk to gaze down into his pretty face.

“I think the rain is throwing off the heat, yes. Why?”

Copia wore a mischevious grin on his face as he lazily wrapped his arms around your waist. “You’ve helped me so much today, I should give you something in return, yes?”

“Cardinal, no, whatever it is no.”

“Oh, come on now. Trust me,” he cooed as he stood up, keeping his arms around you. He was considerably taller and he looked down at you affectionately, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Fidati di me.”

Hearing him speak Italian always gave you butterflies and you couldn’t help the smile that lit up your face. You kicked your feet gently as they dangled off the desk, humming softly as you pretended to consider his offer. “Trust you with what?”

“Let me hold you,” he spoke softer, lower, as he leaned down to your level more. His voice and his breath fanned across the apple of your cheeks, causing your face to flush adorably. Copia smiled as he contineud to speak to you. “Let me wrap you up and hold you in my arms. Holding you is the only thought that puts me to sleep at night, and there’s nothing better than cuddles and a nap in the rain.”

“You’re very wise, Cardinal,” you smiled, tilting your chin up to meet his precious gaze.

He grinned, gently laying his hand on your cheek. You leaned into his touch and the movement melted his heart. “I’m the Cardinal for a reason, cara.”

“I suppose so,” you smiled and laid your hands on his arms.

“Let’s take this veil off, yeah? Cuddling wont be very comfortable in that.” He mused as he gently moved his hand beneath your veil and into your hair. You sighed softly and shut your eyes as he gave your scalp a gentle massage your with the pads of his fingers. After a moment he slipped the bobby pins out of your hair and laid your veil on his desk, smiling as he watched your hair settle around your face. He ran his fingers through it for a moment and you smiled sweetly up at him when he tucked it behind your ear. He was still too shy to kiss your lips but he wasn’t too shy to gaze down at yours longingly, causing your cheeks to burn.

Copia grinned wickedly and picked you up, holding onto your bottom as you squeaked and wrapped your legs around his waist. You felt his lips turn up into a smirk seconds before his hand squeezed and smacked your ass.

“Cardinal!” Your voice was somewhere between a shriek and a laugh as you started to wiggle, trying to break free of his grasp.

“Oh please, I’ve read your mass notes,” Copia smirks, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, “So che lo volevi, so che mi vuoi.”

You shuddered and held onto his shoulders as he carried you over to the couch in his office, sitting down with you still on his lap. The friction between your bodies was delicious but Copia’s goal right now wasn’t sex, it was cuddles, no matter how much his body betrayed his mind. He swivled your hips off of his as quickly as he could, covering his groin and his hips with a blanket, but the damage was already done. You knew what was happening and your cheeks burned at the thought.

His hands moved to your shoulders as he laid down on his back, turning his hips to kick his feet up on the couch, cradling you with him as he held you flush against his side. You were tucked between the Cardinal and the back of the couch, your head nestled between a throw pillow and his shoulder. He sighed, probably exagerating the relief he felt when he laid back.

You looked up at him shyly but smiled after a moment, watching the reflection of the rain on his face. His eyes met yours and they were rain soaked and beautiful, the palor of his skin turning blue in the light from the window.

Copia turned towards you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Oh, I’ve made a mark,” he chuckled absentmindedly as he swiped his thumb across your skin to pick up the black lipstick left behind. You giggled and rolled your eyes playfully, your brain a flustered mess of electicity and lust and affection and passion.

“What if Imperator finds us like this?” You asked softly, reaching to take your black heels off and dropping them behind the couch. When you thought it was safe, you intertwined your stockinged legs with his, and arm wrapped behind you and his hand subconsiously moved to rest on your thigh.

“She wont. And if she does she has nothing to complain about, yes?” He stroked your cheek with his other hand. Nothing yet, at least.

You just smiled and nodded, leaning into his touch. “Okay, I trust you. Even though I know I shouldn’t.”

Copia chuckled, a low rumble that complimented the thunder outside. In a quick moment of remembrance, he took off his hat and placed it haphazardly on your head before turning to look up at the ceiling. He kept his eyes on you and smiled as your cheeks changed color to match the fabric hue. “Sei così carino,” he cooed softly, thankful that you let him speak his mother tongue to you.

You just smiled like Mona Lisa and nudged your nose against his cheek before kissing it softly. The Cardinal hummed happily and shut his eyes, leaning his head towards yours as you settled in besides him.

The warmth that radiated from Copia was trapped in by the blanket, and your body relaxed as you soaked in it. His gentle hands never stopped moving completly, either he would be rubbing your back with his palm or dragging his thumb across your collar bone as his fingers rested on your shoulders. He would find tiny ways to remind himself that he was still holding you, a preoccupation that continued even as little snores rose up from both of your lips.

Loving him would be so easy, you thought.

A few hours later Copia was consious enough to return to sentience. His eyes darted around the room but he was careful to keep his body and his head still as not to wake you. His hat had fallen onto his stomach, and there were some new papers and files littering his desk, evidence that Imperator did stop by, but his hypothesis was correct. For the time being, as long as you kept the Cardinal on task and continually adjusting to his unfamilliar postition, she would maintain that she had no idea what was brewing (or more affectionately, blossoming) between the fresh Cardinal and the Sister of Sin.

Copia stroked your cheek softly and smiled at the way your cheek was jello beneath his touch. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on the corner of your lips, close enough to feel your mouth against his but still far enough to leave the title of First Kiss open for the taking.

“Amore mio, sei il mio angelo,” he whispered before snuggling your sleeping form a little closer and tucking his face into the crook of your neck.

Outside, rain was still falling. The room was still cold and sounds of droplets hitting the abbey and thunder echoed off the walls. After one particularly loud boom, you stirred, clinging to the Cardinal for safety. He cooed your name into your ear, turning onto his side and pulling you closer. He brought the blanket closer to your heads, rubbing his cheek against yours as he protected you from the storm raging outside.

[wandixx]

Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies

All work words count: 14 593

Words in this part: 2 224

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: First meeting and training discussions Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

Duke was running out of fumes to run on. Last few days would be exhausting if it was just vigilante or just civilian stuff but no, he had to have it both. Because of Arkham break out he had been called in three nights in a row, not for a whole patrol but he couldn't exactly sleep it of during the day like others did, especially not in a week when every teacher decided they need to have test or quiz or what not. Naps meant he wasn't as sleep deprived as he could be but he needed far more. But he couldn't because crime in Gotham never sleeps so he had normal patrol to finish and there were about two ours left.

Would something bad happen if he just stopped for a moment and laid on a roof? Ten up to fifteen minutes. It was a slow day too...

Yeah, no, he deserved a moment to rest and if something disastrous was to happen in the meantime he would shame other Bats for not giving him enough time to sleep.

It certainly said something that he found gravel covering this roof to be quite comfortable. He set a timer for ten minutes and let himself close his eyes.

When loud screech of timer jolted him awake, he was suddenly fully aware that he wasn't alone anymore. He sat up a little too quickly.

"Oh, you're awake," white haired girl around Damian's age chimed, sitting cross legged just few feets away from him. She wore something that could only be described as an unholy mix of lab safety hazmat and skintight workout jumpsuit, white and black. When had Gotham gotten a new vigilante? "Good, I just returned from snack hunt," she added, gesturing at a big textile bag lying next to her. Duke didn't have enough brainpower to do anything more than ask.

"What?"

Girl shrugged, take out from BatBurger in her hand.

"You look like you have a bad day if not few days, so I've got you my cousin's bad day combo or at least closest thing I could. BatBurger burger isn't as good as NastyBurger but you certainly have better fries," as she spoke, second take out bag, 1 quart bottle of energy drink, juice bottle of same size and pack of convenience store brownies joined greasy paper bag sealed with a sticker.

"Is your cousin a speedster?" Excuse Duke, it was a totally valid question, he saw with his bare eyes both Wally West and Bart Allen when they visited Manor. Noone else would be able to stomach the amount of food they inhaled during their stays.

"Nah, we're not that fast or that hungry. Though I think I may get closer to speed of sound," So, clearly a meta if white hair and weir aura that let his eyes rest weren't enough indication "My cousin when he has bad few days he often forgets to eat so this combo has to help with there too. But I'll steal your fries of course."

Duke was not going to look gift horse in teeth, so he grabbed one bag and tore it open. There was classic combo with bigger fries and NightWings inside.

"Thank you..." he trailed off, hoping that girl would take a clue and introduce herself but she didn't. She just drowned her fries in ketchup and started munching. She had her own juice.

"My cousin always said that each part of this combo has different purpose," she explained instead, slightly muffled because of fries in her mouth, "This" she gestured towards fast food meal "is to sooth your stomach. This "she tapped energy drink "is to sooth your brain and kick it back online. This "she raised bottle of juice, "is to sooth your taste buds because energy drinks are war crime against them and this "she nudged brownies "is to sooth your heart because Ancients damn it, this day is awful and you deserve it. At least that's what he told me when I had day bad enough to deserve that," she shrugged, licking ketchup of her finger. Suddenly she froze "You aren't allergic, are you?

"No, I'm not," he confessed bewildered.

"Good"

For a long moment they sat in silence, devouring food the little girl brought. Duke distantly wondered if this was how night shift spent their snack breaks. It felt nice.

He was finishing his part of brownies when girl spoke up again.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah" he was a little surprised to realize that it was true. He'll have to note down what she put in this 'bad day combo'. "Thank you"

"Don't mention it," she shrugged with general gesture of dismissal, "You're one of my cousin's favorite heroes because you're vaguely his age and handle Gotham alone during the day and I quote, "she did honest to God air quotes at that" 'As only hero in Amity-' which is a lie by the way, Val is doing great and even if he suddenly got problem with how she feels about his alter ego, he still has Sam and Tuck even if they're usually more of moral support. And I helped when I visited, so no, he isn't only one. Anyway as he said 'As only hero in Amity, my heart goes out for anyone who deals with this type of bullshit so Dani if you absolutely have to prank heroes, leave them out of it, especially Signal, he can't be older than Jazz, he doesn't need any more mess to handle.' All aliens and lanterns are also off limits because he is a space nerd. But you aren't space related so I'm like 80% percent sure he has celebrity crush on you," she slurped more juice, unbothered.

Duke was thankful he wasn't swallowing anything because for sure she would choke. He took split second to consider addressing... this whole situation and choose not to. He was not ready to be anyone's celebrity crush.

"Your name is Danny?" he asked instead.

"Dani" she corrected" with an I"

"Ok. It's nice to meet you Dani-with-an-I," She giggled, nodding her head slightly.

"It's nice to meet you too Signal"

Duke stood up, stretching a little. Dani joined him after hastily putting all the trash in her bag. She was a little higher than expected.

"I have to get back to my patrol"

"Cool," she drifted back a bit, making him realize that she was floating a few inches above the ground. She fixed her bag on her arm.

"Hey, can I hang out a little bit more? My cousin will go green out of jealousy when I tell him," she added with a mischievous smirk but Duke could tell there was more to it. He took a moment to consider it, which apparently made girl nervous "I can be invisible the whole time, like before," she offered, disappearing in the meantime. He could still tell where she was, because of her heat signature and other waves she excluded but for regular people she would be no different than surrounding air.

"Yeah, you can hang around and you don't have to be invisible. Just don't get in my way when I have to actually do some fighting."

She popped back to visible spectrum and pouted like Damian whenever he got benched.

"I can fight, y'know? I stopped mugging on a snack run."

It was ten god damn minutes, how could she get so much food and stop mugging in such a short time?!

Oh, right, superspeed. Still, impressive.

"I haven't seen it-" he started, channeling all Dick-trying-to-wrangle-Damian-into-socially-acceptable-activity energy he could muster "-so I don't know how you fight or even what powers do you have. If we tried to fight together we would trip over each other" It was a bare faced lie, Bat training made sure of that but he knew for fact that if he said anything else, the girl would be mad and probably did her own thing.

Was that what Bruce thought about all of them?

Oh no.

Dani still looked displeased but after a moment of consideration she nodded with a defeated sigh.

Suddenly she straightened like she got struck by lightning and whipped around.

"Wha-"

She just shushed, raising finger to her mouth. Duke did indeed quietened.

"I have enhanced hearing," she whispered "There is a mugging somewhere this way."

"Let's go then," he shot his grapple, waving his other hand at Dani to come with him before he jumped off the roof. He heard the girl giggle as she flew right after him.

"After this you'll show me the coolest gargoyles, okay? Sam asked for photos"

"Okay"

It seemed that the end of this patrol wouldn't be as bad as the start was. Hopefully.

And afterwards he was going to lock himself in his room until sky falls down or he was well rested.

Yeah, that was a good plan.

********

"Hey kid," Signal started, dropping from fire escape to cuff weirdo in clown mask who Dani just fought. He did it deliberately slowly to show her how to do it like he always did. She choose to not be to annoyed at being called kid again and noted to herself to come up with good codename later. All her previous ideas apparently weren't cutting it and she couldn't keep going by Dani because reasons.

"Yes?"

"Who gave you a combat training?" he asked getting up from a crouch and gesturing towards roof. So it's going to be longer talk, okay.

"My cousin," well, Flashes in Central taught her some stuff but it was more rescue and reassure type of deal not punch and kick, Sam tried to get her through basics of psychological warfare in activism, Tucker sweared he would teach her some programming and hacking but never got around to it, Jazz did some emotional training and Val offered to teach her Red Huntress skills when she got back, but yeah, all in all, Danny was the one to show her how to punch people. Even though it was more of 'shit we have to fight, observe maybe, idk' most of the time. She picked some tricks from Vlad too now that she thought about it, not that she planned to give him any credit for it, like, ever. "Why?"

"I have a bone to pick with him," vigilante announced, melting with the shadows. Dani sped as much as she could to beat him to the roof. She was competitive spirit like that.

Unfortunately he was first. She made another note to herself (she was so going to forget them in next five to ten minutes) to train her speed a bit more. She got tips from the guy with the title of The Fastest Man Alive for crying out loud, she shouldn't loose with the person who technically doesn't even have superspeed!

Signal sat cross legged on the gravel and tossed her a healthy granola bar. He kept doing it for some reason.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but almost everything in your fighting technique is horrible. Your cousin did shitty job as a teacher" he started in warm slightly teasing tone. Dani felt attacked anyway.

"It's not like he has any sort of training either," she started, trying to sound nonchalant, rolling her eyes. "Cut him some slack," She bit a snack in attempt to cover her furry. It had chocolate and raspberries, was quite tasty and she was kinda hungry anyway. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how Signal knew it though "Everything he learned is from the trial and error by crashing through a few walls. Quite hard to care about 'technique'. I at least got his mistakes to learn from so don't you dare to speak about him like that!" alright, she lost it, she can admit it. But, Signal might be cool and Danny may or may not like him (she hoped he didn't, Val was much better option) but Gotham's hero had no right to say anything bad about her template. He didn't know anything. He didn't understand.

Signal looked like he was going to say something so she put her ghostly vocal cords to use and growled.

Don't-harm-family/will-fight/ protect-mine/don't-you-dare

She didn't stop to consider how unlikely it was for him to understand her. She crossed her hands on her chest, glaring.

Turned out, growl was enough of the warning. He carefully picked his next words.

"Sorry, it's not the way I should've phrase it," he started, his mouth doing the thing it did when people were embarrassed with themselves but in an uncomfortable, a bit angry way. He understood his mistake, good. She calmed her glare a bit. "I wasn't aware of you circumstances. If you want, I can show you some tricks, Batman is very throughout with his training"

"No, thank you, I'm good" she was still mad. So mad. And she was not pouting.

"Of course you're good but you can be better, more efficient."

"No." Whatever Signal would propose to her, she wouldn't agree. He said mean things about Danny not even a minute before. She couldn't let him have it on a principle!

"I'll give you a cookie after every training," he pleaded "The homemade, tasty one"

Well, that changed things. A lot of things.

"Yes please!"

He apologized anyway.

********************

Second part

I know democratic winner in poll for now is "publish all at once" and believe me, I respect democracy, especially now that I finally have rights to do things, but Tumblr wouldn't let me. Too long or something. So, it'll be in parts, sorry guys. I'll try to post all of the parts this weekend though (or one each day, I'll see).

Yes, I didn't have a name for this fic until five minutes ago, how did you know? It's quite alright though, I think. If you have better idea I may reconsider

[thespineoftherighteous]

to address the Thea stuff. the reasons ppl don't like her kinda matched to what I said at the end about ppl being more willing to forgive the white characters for things:

1. the age gap. it's only 4 years, and any relationship only begins after kevin is 18. and he was the one who had a crush on her when he was younger, not the other way around. People tend to spread lies about this, things that weren't said in the ec such as saying they're relationship started when he was 14 and she was 18, which I mentioned in my original anon.

2. the 'agression'. I don't think she's aggressive. she was angry yeah, which she had every right to be after kevin ghosted her. he was obviously going through a lot, but of course given he didn't communicate this, she didn't know. she can only work off what she knows. again I just see this as the fandom being very uncharitable to her. kevin chokes neil when he's angry so I really don't think she's the aggressive one in this relationship. and if she is, she's not alone.

3. devotion to the ravens. again, so is kevin. People forgive him for this because he's obviously been brainwashed by them. but so has she. again, just seems like people forgiving other characters for things they wouldn't forgive her for.

4. randomness of relationship with kevin. I don't think it's random? I'm not a fan of their relationship, but people love to ship kevin/Jean primarily cause they were ravens together. kevin and Thea were ravens together, it makes sense they'd grow close. they're both also very dedicated to exy, a common reason people ship neil/kevin. so idk? to everyone's taste ofc, but it still isn't a valid reason for her to get the hate she gets.

idk necessarily about people liking her more if she was a fox. probably? she's very similar to kevin, and people like him. and I can imagine people not liking him if he stayed a Raven and we saw him through a fox perspective. so you're probably right.

on her only having a scene or two and not being very likeable in them. I guess again, it asks the question of why she's not likeable in these scenes? I think people don't want to view things from her perspective, and there can be a lot of reasons for that ofc.

Jean has more scenes than her, but he's not 'likeable' in many of them. He's rude, just like Thea was. He holds Neil down when he's getting tortured. He arguably should be more disliked, but he's not. I think people are more willing to offer him understanding because they're more willing to see things from his perspective. He acts this way because he's a traumatised cult member, and that's exactly why Thea acts the way she does.

It's hard to describe the hate people have for her if you haven't seen it much, but more often than not it goes far beyond 'this character just doesn't show up much so idrc'. People tend to hate her with a passion similar to the hate they view Riko with. Again, people call her abusive and a pedophile semi-reguarly. It goes beyond her just being a little unlikeable.

There was a motivation for a decent number of fans to spread these lies about her character, and I'm curious what that motivation was I suppose? cause I certainly don't do that for characters I just find unlikeable. Or characters that didn't have many scenes. Even if most fans aren't actively racist, they've bought into and fueled lies that were likely spread with racist motivation.

i honestly don't really disagree with you on anything (like the age gap wasn't something I personally ever paid attention to, I was saying that's what other people have a problem with. and honestly I do think that's fair for them, it just never stuck out to me) except for the fourth point bc I will maintain that their relationship is random. not random in a 'these two people are incompatible' way but in a 'the first time we hear Kevin even has a girlfriend is like 2/3 into the last book of the series and the chemistry (to me at least) seemed incredibly lacking but we're supposed to assume they're in love'

but I think you just might be overestimating how much people think about her. again: she's a very very minor character and I don't think people will necessarily go out of their way to see things through her perspective because of that. honestly I feel like what you said about Jean explains it p well: he does worse things than Thea but, even though he's also minor, we see way more of him than Thea we see him vulnerable and at his worst and there's more there that shapes him as a complex person. I genuinely think that if she had even as much screen time as Jean it'd be a different conversation.

but however, out of all the minor characters in the series she is one of the ones that gets the least mercy from the fans and that definitely feels racist to me. i don't think people need to explain and dissect why they dislike a character (especially characters as complicated as Nora's) but the fact that it's so easy for fans to just jump on a hate train for the only canon WOC is deeply unsettling.

I think the complexity of Nora's characters actually make aftg fans really weird and intense when it comes to defending/attacking characters. I remembered being rlly taken aback by the Aaron and Nicky and like Allison hate that I saw when I first started engaging with other fans because so much of it just seemed not true and wayyyy overexaggerated??? idk if it's the fans themselves or the content that makes them so intense but.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

I think it's time for me to come clean with something I've never admitted to anybody before. And it's not something I've done or anything like that. It's not an action I've taken. It's an opinion I have that I know is something that would cause a lot of...let's say strife with most people if they knew I had it. It's not a controversial opinion I'm particularly proud of the way I'm proud of my opinion on John Lennon being a boring hack, or my opinions on YouTube content creators being, by default, talentless nobodies compared to literally any other professional creative, or my opinion that sport hunting journalists and politicians should be, if not actually legal, than at least one of those victimless crimes that never actually get prosecuted. This opinion I'm about to share is something that my own parents would never understand if I were to admit it to them, which, to be honest, does sting a bit when I let myself think about it too much.

I know most of you don't follow me for personal BS, and I respect that, so I'm going to put a cut before I state this opinion so people who don't really care to learn more about me as a person can easily give it a skip. For the rest of you, all I ask is that you try to keep an open mind, and understand that this is as hard for me to admit as it is for you to read.

George Carlin is a terrible fucking comedian.

I know. I know.

But hear me out.

I'm not saying he's not funny, because he can be. Certainly he was hilarious to 12 year old Little Me who would watch clips of his acts on Comedy Central long after my parents went to bed. But as I got older, I started to notice something. It wasn't that I was "growing out" of George Carlin. That's silly to say. That's like saying someone grew out of watching Eddie Murphy's Raw. You're not even supposed to be watching that stuff until you're grown.

No, the thing I noticed was that he isn't actually a comedian.

He's a blogger.

Again, he does tell jokes, but telling jokes does not a comedian make. Everyone tells jokes. What makes a comedian a comedian is that they are so funny that people will pay money to laugh at their jokes. And that's not George Carlin. That's not why people go to see George Carlin. They might think it is, but it's not. No, they go to see him for the same reason he stands up in front of them and speaks.

They want to hear their own opinions parroted back at them, and then they want to cheer. Just like George doesn't really want to make people laugh. He wants to give his opinions on social issues and politics, and then he wants everyone to clap and validate those opinions. The laughter is completely secondary. It's not even necessary past the point of telling just enough jokes to both get people in the door, and to allow those people the illusion that they're at a comedy show and not reading a blog.

And Carlin isn't the only blogger pretending to be a comedian. You probably know quite a few already. The Jon Stewarts, John Olivers, and Jimmy Kimmels of the world who just want to be cheered for stating their, often idiotic, opinions on things. I used to call this "Applause Comedy", and I've always hated it with a passion. But these days I just call it blogging, because that's what it is. And George Carlin is its grandfather. His entire career is based on "telling it like it is" instead of "telling jokes". And let's be fair, some of his opinions are right. Of course, these days the people he roasts are usually not on the same side of the political divide as the ones he was intending on roasting. He is another terminal victim of the 60s, so don't ever mistake him for being even remotely right wing.

(I wonder if, were he still alive, would he be one of those few boomerlibs that actually recognize how batshit insane the left has become? Or would he be one of the ones that now supports all the things they railed against 40+ years back because their identity as a leftist is more important than their supposed principals?

I could speculate, but I won't.)

But being able to comment intelligently or eloquently on political or social issues isn't a skill one should look for in a comedian. And getting cheered for stating an opinion isn't something a real comedian should look for in their audience. A comedian tells jokes. He makes people laugh. He tells stories and weaves tales and creates an atmosphere of joy. He allows us to keep the outside world at bay for an hour or so, and leaves us with a small shield against that world when his show is over in the form of fond memories and shared enjoyment.

You're more likely to come out of a George Carlin show more angry at the world than when you went in.

And that's not comedy.

That's not entertainment.

That's blogging.

[vavuska]

I'm sorry that Vivian - Elon Musk's daughter - is dealing with an oppressive father sharing inaccurate details about her life and spreading false medical information to invalidate trans kids right to self-determination. But I love the fact she is strong enough to call out Elon's lies and persevere, despite his billions of minion around the globe still supporting his bullshits.

I want to give more space and attention to Vivian, who chooses Threads (over X) to mock her father for his lies, hypocrisy, transphobia and bigotry.

To Vivian I wish she cal find all the love and happiness a person can have in this world. I hope we will build together a better place for every queer kid. A special hug to everyone who is struggling with oppressive parents who force them into the closet.

Be proud of yourself. 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️❤️

There’s a lot of stuff I need to debunk which I will get to don’t worry, but I want to start with what I find the funniest which is the notorious “slightly autistic” tweet. This is gonna be a bit so just bare with me

This is entirely fake. Like, literally none of this ever happened. Ever. I don’t even know where he got this from. My best guess is that he went to the Milo Yiannopoulis school of gay stereotypes, just picked some at random and said “eh- good enough” in a last-ditch attempt to garner sympathy points when he is so obviously in the wrong even in his own fucking story.

I did not have a “love of musicals & theatre” when I was four, because y’know… I was fucking four. I did not know what these things were. My earliest real experience with musicals was when my twin brother had a hamilton phase in 8th/9th grade and overplayed it so much in the car to the point where for a long time I swore off the entire genre.

I never picked out jackets for him to wear and I was most certainly not calling them “fabulous” because literally what the fuck. I did not use the word fabulous when I was four because once again I would like to reiterate… I was four. Like this is so obvious I don’t even think it warrants explanation but apparently people believe this nonsense so here I am.

This entire thing is completely made up and there’s a reason for this. He doesn’t know what I was like as a child because he quite simply wasn’t there, and in the little time that he was I was relentlessly harassed for my femininity and queerness. Obviously he can’t say that, so I’ve been reduced to a happy little stereotype f*g-ing along to use at his discretion. I think that says alot about how he views queer people and children in general.

As for if I’m not a woman… sure, Jan. Whatever you say. I’m legally recognized as a woman in the state of California and I don’t concern myself with the opinions of those who are below me. Obviously Elon can’t say the same because in a ketamine-fueled haze, he’s desperate for attention and validation from an army of degenerate red-pilled incels and pick-mes who are quick to give it to him. Go touch some fucking grass✨

Credits: vivllainous - Vivian Jenna Wilson.