#i’m always the fucking outsider in these conversations because they’re always so… personal?

[teethgnashing]

i need to stop talking abt body image issues with people who don’t have a double chin

[velvetvexations]

you’ll see a trans boy be like “i dont personally have the power to oppress you” and then later the same day 3 of their little trans boy friends will start calling you out for making the first trans boy cry so hard he almost died (by disagreeing with him) and then all the cis women in the space will instantly side with the fragile little boys against the scary big [t-slur] who uses intimidating words like “transmisogyny” and thats how the whisper network against you starts, leading to far reaching professional and social consequences that never leave you

This didn’t happen.

Not this way, at least. All marginalized people are at all times at risk of being canceled unfairly. Their marginalization tends to play a major part in that, obviously. Trans women get hit with it a lot and that fucking sucks, and some transmascs are in TERF-y circles and can theoretically use that against transfems should they feel the need to.

This that I’m quoting, however, is a fantasy. It’s a page from a dream journal. People are giddily imagining things like this happening because they live in a world where trans women are feared and have their reputations ruined by lies, and they want to exploit that for their own benefit. The best way of doing this is putting themselves above other trans people, because cis people don’t give enough of a fuck to care or get involved with these bullshit arguments, but if you whine about other marganalized people they will actually be affected by it and forced into the conversation you created out of thin air. It’s not so much a victimization complex as it is a death cult fascination with the misery of transfemininity identical to the TERF obsession with fymyl suffering, defining ‘trans woman’ as 'the thing that feels pain always and forever.’

It’s disgusting and I can’t imagine identifying with such a sniveling and pathetic vision of what being a trans woman is like. It’s so undignified it makes my skin crawl. It’s embarrassing. There’s nothing in this crying little effigy covered in pins and needles I can relate to. I can’t tell if these people need more self-esteem or less. I’m so fucking tired of this wounded gazelle shit.

But for the TRF, transfemininity is all about the abuse. Just look at the beyond absurd assertion, made over and over again, that trans women are maliciously called the t-slur by other trans people. That’s just. No? No. But in claiming that the t-slur can only ever refer to trans women, and that transfeminine suffering takes priority above all else because everyone forever at all times hates trans women more than anyone else, it again becomes necessary to construct this false vision of intercommunity dynamics where “scary big t-slur” is a stereotype that exists within the community in the first place, and which trans men are constantly using against trans women.

It’s just so blatantly selfish for one to act like a transfeminist when all one does every single day is bitch about other trans people. We’re all about to get fucked harder than ever and there are people who profess to sincerely believe they’re fighting the revolution by making up lies about their siblings. I’m easily triggered by transphobia outside of the community and yet even I manage to engage with actual transphobes and make them considerably less transphobic, yet people who don’t even know enough about what TERFs believe to understand they hate men too will fritter the day away on how they could theoretically be canceled if they did something bad ,and wouldn’t that be the worst thing ever? Oh, what if I broke up with someone and our mutual friends believed I was the jerk, because that’s a situation that exclusively happens to poor helpwess twans women and the mere suggestion I could possibly be a jerk in the first place is unthinkable? Hate to keep saying this, but trans women are being actually murdered and this obsessive fixation on “social murder” within the trans community exists purely to spice things up with a feeling of danger because the spaces we’ve managed to carve out for ourselves are otherwise a little too safe and it feels more authentic to the Laura Palmer Ultimate Victim narrative. Massively popular transfems with over ten thousand followers will happily sic them on people for the most upsettingly asinine reasons and then cry-type about how they’re the underdogs in every possible social situation.

But most obnoxious of all is the implication here that, because this can only happen to trans women, gossip and slander does not happen to other trans people, or other marginalized people in general.

That’s fucked, considering how much this discourse has attacked specific targets. It’s most maddening to see that “the coiner of the word transandrophobia has dykebreaking+detransitioning-of-transfems kink” has evolved to “most people who believe in transandrophobia have those kinks” because I constantly see TERFs making huge compilations of transfem blogs engaging in cis dykebreaking kink from the dom perspective. Just transfem dom blog after transfem dom blog enthusiastically into cis dykebreaking, which TERFs use to paint us in a way that fits their narrative.

Literally the only example they can ever give of a transandrophobia-connected person* being a dom for dykebreaking with transfem subs is someone who was being paid by a transfem. Detrans kink is overwhelmingly non-transfems, but almost exclusively as subs to either transfems or cis men, and those transfems aren’t getting paid for it, they actually are just in it for the love of the game. There’s nothing wrong with that, but people want to act like there is when it’s anyone else, and that’s not only weird but also setting up a bear trap to step in later.

Which gets to the point that, hey, wow, I’ve noticed a lot of cis women in particular who self-identify as TME are super into anti-shipping. You cannot possibly imagine you’re safe for trans women if your big issue with trans men articulating their oppression is “they masturbate evilly.” Popular transfem blogs will talk at length about how you shouldn’t judge transfems for their kinks but cis women are so eager to kinkshame transmascs that they not only make shit up out of thin air, but specifically copy and paste kinks almost entirely made up of transfems onto transmascs. Someday very soon a TERF is going to show them it’s much more convenient to be a general transphobe and not make special exceptions for the ones that use the same pronouns as you. They’re going to show your anti-ship cis lesbian friend one of those transfem dykebreaking blog compilations and she’ll take Trans Rights Are Human Rights out of her bio within the hour.

Like, even if you didn’t care about being monstrously inhumane to others, all of this is so against transfem self-interests in the long run, but people who consider themselves the most transfeminist transfeminists there are, of a radical nature, one might say, care more about notes than helping anyone, least of all the transfems they’re feeding into a grinder of paranoia and isolation. Especially the isolation.

It’s a little hard to take it seriously when I get accused of calling all trans women groomers for thinking it’s bad when people talk about “curing” other trans women’s “comphet,” how “TMEs” are obligated to bottom for them to compensate for transmisogyny, and writing long treatises on why it’s one’s moral responsibility to throw forcefem kink at random men because they may like it. Like, am I saying trans women are groomers, or am I saying some people use being members of a marginalized community to be kinna gross? People somehow find it in them to be angry at gay men who cross boundaries in spite of the messaging that they’re all sex abusers for the past two hundred years. Especially since 90% of the concern is for other trans women.Like, sorry, but I care enough about trans women that I’m going to say something if I think you’re putting them in a bad situation, and someone being a trans woman doesn’t make them immune to that. But oh, it does if you assume that this is all just common sense transfeminism, and I am in fact making this accusation of most trans women instead of an extremely niche group.

Never mind that in the screencap people use to accuse me of calling trans women “rapists” I was saying something a self-identified TME said was coercive, and whose identity as a Not a Trans Woman I explicitly noted.** Never mind that I’m the not the one telling people to name their blogs after the original transbian separatist group that famously fell apart after resulting in heavy sexual abuse. Never mind that I have said over and over again that TRFs act no more entitled to people’s bodies than lesbian TERFs who treat people they perceive as women the same way.

But I’m supposed to believe that those cis anti-shippers who post things like “every time someone says kinks are fine they’re just protecting predators in the LGBT community” is a great ally and I’m a traitor because they hate men and I don’t?

Sorry, no, not a traitor. A “pickme begging to be beaten to death with hammers.” Who’s probably not even actually a trans woman. Great transfeminism, yall. You’re really fighting transmisogyny.

It’s especially galling now that TRFs have taken to calling transandrophobia “reactionary,” the most bullshit possible way to call a group that includes a huge number of PoC, who they constantly accuse of tokenization, a pack of Nazis. What is transandrophobia reacting to? Bigotry? Golly gee, I guess so! Or maybe it’s “reacting” to transmisogyny as part of the completely absurd idea that trasnmascs steal everything from transfems. Like, yeah, sure girliepop, and we stole misogyny from cis women, right? Sorry you failed to not sound exactly like a TERF yet again but maybe try again tomorrow and you’ll finally earn not being called a radfem.

But isn’t it sooooo mean of me to compare a small amount of trans women to radfems? Like their oppressors? Well, first of all, they regularly refer to Jewish people as Nazis, discourse aside that they do that is simply a true fact which shows they indeed think it’s possible to justify comparisons like that, although in their case it’s just because it feels like getting off a sick burn and rhetorical W to go “ah, but what if this Jewish person…was a Nazi? Checkmate, Zionists.”

Secondly, for as much as TRFs want to claim TERFs only hate them, that’s simply not true and I have conclusively proven this with basic use of Tumblr’s search function and the tag “radblr.” Twice. If you believe they love transmascs and only want what’s best for them, congratulations dipshit, you fell for their propaganda so hard I’m surprised they haven’t managed to convince you you’re not a woman. Or is it only an obvious lie when it’s about you?

Most annoyingly, just on a personal level, is the way TRFs get pissed off at non-transfem feminine AMAB people for daring to exist. The idea that femboy is a slur for trans women would be laughable if it weren’t grotesque in it’s ignorance. The things I’ve read people say about how transmisogynistic it is for an anime character to be a crossdressing man instead of a trans woman are just infuriatingly racist. Not everything is about you and it’s not actually a big deal if people talk about others once in blue moon.

The constant posts about how non-transfems are evil for not making more transfem headcanons, or for headcanoning the TRF’s favorite canonically male character wrong, are particularly childish. I can’t even go into MY favorite blorbo’s tag without seeing people call transmasc headcanons of him inferior literary analysis completely without irony, and every single time they shit like this, they do it while making up the most convoluted and nonsensical explanations for why the character can only be transfem instead, as though the hostility is defensiveness born out of their particular blorbo requiring a lot of creativity to headcanon that way, necessitating going to war to prove they can’t really be a man to assert it as The One Truth. Then they’ll complain until the fucking heat death of the universe about how everyone loves transmasc headcanons because of transmisogyny.

It’s the same unbearable on-sight hostility as when a TERF sees a child on the subway and goes home to type up a novel of a post on how he had the eyes of a future wife-beater, and it’s so irritating to see it spread from one corner to another. Literally, TRFs say that trans men will always turn on trans women and eventually detransition to wield their wymbnly power against us, and I’m expected to not see that as having severe hang-ups about people born into what they want to transition into and have denied to them by society’s transphobia?

What about the fact that they constantly mock AFAB trans people in ways specifically targeting that trait, calling non-binary people “theyfabs,” joking it’s easy to misgender trans men when they have large breasts, and reduce transmasc stereotypes to feminine “soft bois?” Like, yeah, okay, you’re not projecting any gaping insecurities you may have about assigned sex and gender roles when you say transmasc music is ukuleles and transfem music is heavy metal, next tell me about how transmascs all enjoy tea parties and transfems all go to football games.

But it’s not even mostly trans women who keep this shit alive in the first place. A higher percentage of total trans women on this site are into this framework, but the total number of non-transfem trans people and cis women so outweighs them in the first place that it cancels that out. Like, if x is higher than y, and x% of trans women on Tumblr agree but only y% of “TME” people do, that’s still a movement mostly consisting of “TME” people. The full separatist angle would very quickly reveal how little air it has to burn if trans women truly only had themselves to watch out for each other. Unfortunately, self-identified TMEs are much more likely to get TERFier rather than simply less TRF-y when the spell breaks and they realize how fucked up this shit is, while the people who’ve been batted at continue to exercise the patience of a saint and continue to fight for trans women anyway.

And that! Is what hurts! The most! The fact that people do not care about transmascs and in particular the ones who believe in transandrophobia are constantly tripping over themselves to defend and help trans women as much as they possibly can. I wish people saw that. I wish that mattered. It’s like watching a black hole suck up an endless font of goodwill and love. And then going “lol reactionary transandrobros hate trans women.”

That’s it, though, the great irony of it all is that if it were true, it’d never have become popular in the first place. It’s kept aloft by self-identified TMEs who are well-meaning if not especially good at critical thinking, except for the the contingent that are convinced trans men are all misogynistic because they personally are, or even outright seem to get gender euphoria from the idea they have male privilege. But for whatever reason, if “TME” folks didn’t care? The people making up elaborate tales of their potential (social) murder would have to find some other way to get attention.

I suggest throwing on a big red nose and joining a circus.

*and I specify “transandrophobia-connected” but you’d have a hard time rustling up transmasc doms in general from those scenes

**also, despite it being something I saw with my own eyes, I notably did not even feel it hit the level of needing to directly name someone as being who I was basing my assessment of sexual coercive behavior on as being sexually coercive, because I think it's much more a prevalent attitude of pressure in sexual contexts than individual behavior

[grippingbeskar]

old partners, new plans

— joel miller x fem!reader

—warnings: explicit content minors dni (oral m receiving, mxf) swearing, very minor dom!joel but it’s like not an established thing

—a/n: back at it!!! hope you guys enjoy! i love writing for joel sm. he so sexy <3

“That was not the deal.” You growl, squaring your shoulders.

“Deals change.” Is all the reply you get, Joel still leaning against the frame of your door. You can hardly see him there, the dark of night shrouding him in something akin to mystery— at least, he would be mysterious if you hadn’t already seen every inch of him.

“You know that’s not fair, Joel. I’ve waited ages for this opening, and I’m fucked without the pills to trade.” You take a step towards him and lower your voice, knowing people have been hung in the centre of town for even thinking about leaving, let alone having an entire plan like you did. Or had. “I need to get to them.”

“You don’t even know they’re out there.” You bite back a laugh, turning away from him. You hear the click of the door behind you, and Joel sounds louder as he finally steps into your house. “This is a bad idea— always has been. You got no proof, no solid plan… you’re fucked with or without the pills.”

“Oh, because you’re so sure Tommy’s still alive? That plan is so well thought out— huh?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not! My family is out there, and they’re waiting for me. I know they are. I’ve had this plan for months— months, Joel! You know what this means, and you choose now of all times to hold out on me?!” You shout now, head under his chin staring up at him.

“I’m not holdin’ out, there’s nothin’ I can do about it. My guy ain’t getting back for a week, and I can’t just pull strings I don’t have.” Your heart plummets. The look in his face seems genuine— broken, sad… but it doesn’t make you any less angry. “I can’t help you.”

“But you were fine taking my batteries and tools. And my route to the outside for the last six months. All that you were happy to take me up on, but now it’s time to pay and you’re suddenly empty? I don’t buy it, Joel.” You say his name harshly, with none of the need and honey-like sweetness you remember from those few months of bliss before you told him you were getting out. Before he iced you out completely. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. As what— some kind of pay back?”

“You know that’s not—“

“Why? Because I’m not sleeping with you anymore? That’s fucking low, even for you. And you are the one that stopped that, not me, so don’t blame your blue balls on me just cause you can’t deal with the inevitable.” You suck in a quick breath, wishing you could take the words back.

Oh, he’s fucking angry now. Before he was letting you rant, letting you yell at him because he knew he was in the wrong but something about your comment made him flip.

Neither of you had mentioned what happened. How that night, when you told him you were leaving, he just got up and left your bed, never coming back. Sure, you were blunt and maybe a little harsh when you told him you were going, but he didn’t even look at you for a week. Only when you went to him to ask for the last piece of your escape plan, he managed to look at you, but even then he was short and harsh like you had been. Like you’d done something to him personally— left him cold and alone in a giant bed, words you never got to say still stuck in your throat. How he never gave you a chance to finish, to explain, to ask him to come with you. Find both of your families.

It was the first time you’d really spoken at all since then— conversations that used to be never ending and comforting turning to surface level communication, only speaking when necessary. Sure, you were shouting at each other right now but at least you were talking. Anything was better than silence.

“Don’t you ever fucking say that to me. Don’t you dare tell me I had anything to do with you leavin’. You did this to yourself— to us.” He didn’t yell, but you sort of wish he had, because the low, growling tone of his voice was somehow ten times worse. “You were the one who wanted to leave. I never—“

“You don’t have to remind me.” You don’t let him finish the thought, instead cutting him off and diverting your eyes to the fists at his side, straining with fury. His knuckles were bruised, either from work or a side gig he didn’t tell you about. He never told you about anything anymore.

“I got no pills. I’ll dump ‘em in the old spot when they come in. Try not to get yourself killed ‘til then.” He turns to leave, and you feel your stomach flip. This will be the last time you see him if he comes through. The last time you spoke.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “Hey— I didn’t meant that, alright? You really want to leave it like this?”

“You’re going. Probably gonna die out there. What’s the point in talking about it?” You want to yell, want to fight him on it but he wouldn’t even listen— “You’re signin’ your death sentence outside of these walls alone. Don’t blame me for not giving you the push.”

“Joel, just wait a second.” His hand stills as it moved to grab the door. “I don’t… I don’t want to leave you like this. I never wanted to leave you. If you just let me—“

“You made that bed weeks ago.” He stares ahead, never letting you finish and still not turning around to look at you. Your heart freezes at the thought of him walking out that door. You want to leave— but you never wanted to do it alone. Even after weeks of silence and rough edges, you’d take any time with him over… well, anything.

“Let me unmake it. Just… please don’t walk out on me, Joel.” You take a few tentative steps, gauging the progress you’ve made. His spine straightens when your fingers dance up his back, gentle and slow. You catch the bottom of his shirt and slip under, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palm and the way he sighs— as if your touch relieves him. “I hated how I went about… things. I never meant to have it turn out like this. Us ignoring each other.”

“Well, that’s what happened.” His head turns ninety degrees, eyes looking over his shoulder as you walk your fingers higher. His shoulder blades, always full of tension, relax under your hand, and you trail your other hand up to find the other, watching his eyes flutter closed as you dig your palms into the muscle there.

“I know. It was unfair of me to spring it on you that night, and I shouldn’t of said the things I did. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t say anything, but he sighs again as you continue to manipulate his muscle. You wish he’d take his shirt off so you could do it properly, but this would do for now. “But you never let me finish— that day.”

“I heard…fuck. I heard what I needed to hear.” His head drops down, chin to his chest as you step up on your toes and massage him in slow, steady circles. You hadn’t touched him in so long, you were nearly burning with just this intimacy alone, but you had to bide your time. Coax him in slowly, like a scared lone wolf— tempt him closer with paced, quiet movements until you could get your chance.

“Let me fix it. Fix this.” You say softly, your heart slamming against your chest.

“You’re still leaving. Can’t fix that.” His voice strains, and you run your hands lower to dig into the muscle of his back.

“Yeah.” He sighs again at your answer. “And you still hate me for it.”

“Yeah.” He copies you, and you try to ignore how much the simple word affects you.

“But we still have right now.”

“What’s the— shit, that’s good.” He shuffles back into your touch. “What the point?”

“Cause I can make you feel so much better than this. Don’t you remember?” You are nearly begging, but if memory serves you right, a few ‘pleases’ seem to make him do just about anything. “This is just my hands, but my mouth… my—“

“Yeah. Yeah, I fucking remember. Think about it every night.” You run your hands up again, but this time take his shirt with you and bring it up over his head. He moves, finally, grabbing the collar and shucking it off his shoulders, letting the fabric pool at his feet in front of the door.

“Let me make it up to you. Please, Joel.” He groans when you press harder, feeling how his muscles have gone nearly placid under your touch now. “Even if it’s just tonight. If you still hate me, you can leave and not look back, but I… I can’t stand this thing we have going on. The quiet. I can’t do it. Please.”

He turns around, towering over you as a mass of unkept, wild curls and a burning need in his eyes. It makes you smile, that look in his eye— because it’s been so long since he’s looked at you with anything other than hatred. Now, he needs you. Needs what only you can give him, and even if this could be the last night of it, you couldn’t help but think it would last forever with how heavy his gaze was.

“You wanna make it up to me?” He’s tilting his head in question, watching your hands move up and down his torso in teasing strokes.

“Please, Joel.” You see it splinter, his final plank of resolve shredding and dispersing on your floor under the weight of your words. Your voice nearly cracks with desperation— you need it as badly as he does.

“Get on your knees.” You blink at him, your fingers trailing down his toned chest before nodding and obeying his command readily. Joel was always a giver— always spending hours on you and you alone, and he fucking loved it— but tonight you had all but begged him to take. Lose a little bit of that control he clings so tightly to, watch the tension loose from his shoulders as he forgets about everything but you.

You trail your lips along his lower stomach as you sink to your knees, eyes never leaving his— ones that have practically turned onyx black as he watches your path, chest rising and falling rapidly. He moves his leg before you hit the ground, and it’s not until your bare knees settle into something a little softer than hard wood floor that you realise he’s kicked his shirt under you.

Even when he acted the part of hating you— he never stopped thinking of you.

Your fingers shake as they fumble with his belt, Joel making no move to help you as you struggle with the loops. When you finally break it free, Joel’s hand reaches down and threads your hair through his fingers. His thumb trails the highest point of your cheekbone, and your eyes flutter as you involuntarily nuzzle into his touch. It’s comforting and warm, and the intimacy of him knowing how you like to be touched even on your face has your cheeks burning. You think you catch him smile at you, and then your focus snaps back to the sight right at your eye-line when you pull his boxers and jeans down in one go.

“Missed your cock, Joel. Fuck.” You are nearly mesmerised at him in front of you, words spilling out as he stands in front of you completely naked while you remain fully clothed. He groans, head rolling back as you wrap your hand around his base.

“I bet you did. Can remember how loud you used to be— I fucking loved that.” Even if the compliment is purely physical, compared to how little you’ve gotten from him it boosts your ego through the roof. You can’t wait any longer, wrapping your lips around the tip of his straining cock. “That’s it, darlin’.”

You don’t tease him, but you do start slow. Despite how much you want to suffocate on him, have him fuck out any of that hate he’s still holding so he can’t think of anything but your mouth, you know he likes it to start slow. It’s like he’s denying himself, even here, that he doesn’t deserve the instant gratification. Like he wants to suffer through it first— a little bit of pain to accompany the overwhelming pleasure that follows.

“Fuck, you’re good. Just like that.” He praises, his hand sneaking back to the nape of your neck. Not pushing, but instead gathering your hair and using his fist as a make shift ponytail. “Missed your mouth.”

“Mm?” You make a muffled noise, hoping to God he keeps telling you how much he missed any part of you. Like he dragged through the last few weeks as poorly as you did. You were already fizzling in your stomach, your thighs clenching together with every swirl of your tongue around the head of his cock.

“Thought about you every day. Every— fuck. Nothin’ gets me off like you. Ha-ah, shit.” You take him to the back of your throat, gagging a little but loving every choked sound sound that stutters out of Joel’s mouth. “Had to fuck my fist thinkin’ about your pretty little face. Fuckin’ hated myself for it.”

You speed up, wanting nothing more than for him to yank you upwards and bend you over the counter, but you’ll take what you can get. The salty taste of him mixes on your tongue, and it’s always so messy giving him head, but he goes feral for it. He’s watching you now, the words punched out of his chest as you move your hand to match your mouth, and you know the tears in your eyes and strands of hair across your face just send him wild.

He says your name how you remember, with all the sweet and drawn out inflections his accent gives it. You take him deeper, indulging a low and dormant urge to please him clawing it’s way to the front of your brain. He groans again, the hand at the back of your head pressing just slightly— a sign he’s losing that last bit of self control.

“Fuck— stop, baby. Stop.” He splutters out, and you draw yourself back slowly. He keeps his hand in your hair, looking down at you possessively. His chest is moving rapidly, trying to catch his breath from where you had him so close. Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to why he didn’t let you do the one thing you really wanted to right now. Make him feel good.

“What’s wrong?” You say softly, and he hauls you upward, barely giving you time to find your footing before he surges forward and kisses you.

It nearly knocks you off your feet, the hunger behind it making you stumble a few steps to where you know the bed is. He wastes no time, tasting himself on your tongue and taking you with him down onto the mattress. He pulls your shirt off first, kissing his way down to where your hips are still covered by sweat pants.

It’s here he takes his time, watching you writhe with impatience as he slowly draws the fabric down. He kisses your hipbones as they are revealed, the gentle touches making your head spin. He was meant to hate you— meant to be fucking you hard and fast just one more time to get it out of his system, so that you felt like what you two had could end on some kind of high. You owed him that much.

But this? The way his hands were so soft and gentle— practically caressing along your sides and over your thighs. The care behind his movements, the way he looked at you… it wasn’t how you used to fuck. This wasn’t hard and dirty, not scratching an itch or quenching a thirst— this had something more behind it. You knew it, and by the way he smiled over you, he did too.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispers against your skin, the rough hair on his cheeks tingling the softness of your inner thighs. He says it quietly, like you weren’t supposed to hear it, but you do, and your body floods with heat.

“Joel.” You whimper, your underwear dragging down your legs before he crawls back up your body. “Joel, I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby. Just focus on me, okay?” You feel him against you, the head of his cock dragging up and down causing your hips to twitch every time. “You always get so wet from doing that, don’t you?”

“Just from you. It’s just you, Joel.” You whimper, and his face crumbles in front of you. He bends to kiss you again, the air in your lungs sucked out leaving you breathless. He’s handling you with such care— like he still does. Care.

When he pushes into you, you both sigh, Joel dropping onto his forearms caging you under him. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck— teeth dragging along your collar bone with each slow thrust.

“You always feel so good. Can’t live without this, baby.” He’s almost whining, grinding into you with so much strength you hear the bed creak with each move. He’s reaching every nerve you have, crackling each one with a searing pleasure that’s only ever associated with him.

“N-neither. Please— please, Joel.” You beg for something, anything he’d give you, and his head moves to press his forehead to yours. His hips stutter, eyes half lidded but focused on you.

“Don’t leave. I’ll… god, so good. Don’t go.” He fucks you a little harder, like he’s trying to prove a point. Trying to convince you— but he doesn’t have to.

“Come with me.” You whisper, hands threading into his hair. You tug hard, making him groan.

“Baby.” He says lowly, voice grating and strained. Every thrust of his hips hurtles you closer to release, one of his hands snaking down your body to circle your clit. You can’t talk anymore, the only noises you can make are loud moans followed by choked out versions of his name. “Fuck— fuck, I can’t last. I can’t..”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pleasure rolling over you from your fingertips to your toes, the weight of Joel’s body keeping you firmly secured on the mattress. It’s like the heavy press of his warm skin multiplies the feeling, nails digging into the flesh of his back.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, and it only takes a few more strokes of Joel’s cock and he’s cumming with you, both of you clinging to each other as you try to draw out the others high. Even when you’re supposed to be fighting, each of you are doing anything and everything for each other.

Joel still feels warm above you, keeping himself inside as long as he can stand before he pulls out slowly. You whimper from the loss, but he shuts you up with a deep, desperate kiss. It’s lazy and meaningful— teeth and tongues clashing from how hard he’s pressing on top of you.

Both of you are sweaty and out of breath, but neither can find the strength to pull your mouths away from each other. You know once you do, it was meant to be over— but it couldn’t be. There wasn’t going to be a version of this story where you missed out on the only good, real thing you’ve had in a long time just because you didn’t have the guts to repeat yourself. You pull back from his mouth as hard as it is, and he groans a little in frustration of having to chase you.

“Joel…” Your hands find their way up to his face, holding him so close that your noses bump together. “I meant it. Come with me.”

“Darlin’, I gotta… Tommy needs me to find him. I…” He looks you up and down again, eyes catching on the little hickeys he’s left over your chest and neck, and you think he might be considering the possibility of leaving everything behind and just following you despite it.

But you’d never ask him to. You had this thought out— and if he’d just listened to you the first time, he would already know.

“I know. We can find him. The pills— I’m trading it for a full tank of gas for a car I repaired. It’s just outside the safe zone.” He shifts up, thighs still straddling over your waist. “We can find him, find my family.”

“You fixed a… of course you did. Fixed a fucking car right under their nose.” He shakes his head, laughing before leaning down and smothering you in a suffocating kiss. He’s still smiling when he pulls away, tucking your body into his chest. “Jesus. You’re unbelievable.”

“I would of told you.” You say, not having the nerve to look up at him. “That night— I tried to tell you. We have people that need us, but I need you, too.”

“Mm.” He says, burying his face into your hair. You can feel the smile in the way he hums, his hands grabbing at your sides and holding you closer. “Need you, too.”

“What was that?” You try to turn and look up at him, a teasing smirk on your face but he doesn’t let you. “The Joel Miller— needs me?”

“Need your car.” He grumbles and you laugh harder, your legs tangling together in a comforting knot of limbs. “When do we leave?”

“When you get the pills.” He hums again.

“Tomorrow. I’ll get ‘em tomorrow.”

“Oh, you fucking asshole. You were getting them the whole time, weren’t you?” He still refuses to let you move, strong arms keeping your bodies together. He doesn’t say anything, just laughs and nods before his breathing starts to slow.

You wanted to turn and see his face when he said that— that he needed you. But as you feel him go limp behind you, you figure you’ll get enough time to stare at his face when you drive across the state to get Tommy, and whatever comes after that. You might not know what comes next, but whatever it is, you feel a hell of a lot better knowing it’ll be with him.

[puppetwoman17]

I’ve been wanting to talk about this but I thought it would sound weird and kinda Mary Sue like! Glad to hear that I’m not the only one.

I’m very adamant on Cap being a pillar in not only the magic community(cause of his Champion role obviously) but the hero community as well. He’s well-known for his heroics and impossible stories about battling sentient worms and being diplomatic with alien dinosaurs.

He’s also loved for the advice he gives. All Billy wants to do is bring smiles to these peoples’ days. He dishes out advice like it’s candy and always sees the good in people. He’s great at looking at situations through multiple viewpoints and understanding everyone’s thought processes. This in particular helps with the Superman and Superboy problem. He tells both of them individually that both of their hardships are valid. Clark is allowed to feel violated because his DNA was stolen and mutated in a way that was against his consent. Connor never asked to be created, always wanting Superman’s love but never receiving it.

They reconcile, and Billy doesn’t think much of it, because it’s what anyone would do, right? No biggie. He even does something similar with Red Arrow, convincing him that he’s not just a clone. He’s his own person. He built his own life. He has his own achievements. He shouldn’t feel bad for any of this because none of it was in his control. And Roy is so damn grateful because it feels like a weight has been taken off his shoulders.

Marvel just shrugs. No biggie.

He talks Leaguers through both personal and professional problems and guides them onto a simple, honest path because adults make everything so damn complicated so why can’t you just sit THE FUCK DOWN—

Ahem.

So he helps with that too. No biggie, right? Just another good deed.

He expands his one-way business to other teams too, like the JSA, the YJ team, the Teen Titans, etc. Spends time with each of them, helps them solve their own problems whether they’re big or small.

No biggie, right?

Fucking. Wrong.

The world of heroes absolutely adores him! The other hero teams look to him like he’s the cool uncle. Despite no one knowing jackshit about his personal life, they trust him wholeheartedly. They know he’s got their back.

That’s actually what hurts, tho. Whenever anyone asks him about his life outside the cape, he gets tongue-tied. Panicked. Silent. Doesn’t say a word until a new topic is brought up and then changes wheels like it’s nothing. It hurts, knowing he doesn’t trust them. They know it’s stupid, he never had obligations to tell them anything about the real him, but it stings. Where does he go when he isn’t Cap? Does he have family? A lover? Hobbies? Pets? Why is he like a brick wall with them? Did they do something wrong?

Things get especially annoying when characters like Booster Gold(from the future) and Doctor Fate(Lord of Order, basically on the same pedestal as the Champion) know his identity and don’t even bother to hide that fact. Leaguers will frequently catch Booster making knowing jabs at the Captain, winking and saying strange things that get the Captain riled up and shaking his head profusely. Nabu is no help either, with Leaguers catching him and Marvel quietly conversing. When someone, say, Barry, shows up, Marvel stops talking.

It fucking hurts. A lot. And Billy doesn’t even notice the looks of jealousy cast at his future teammate and fellow Lord by his coworkers. The YJ team is not taking that shit because that is their den dad. Diana doesn’t appreciate that these strangers know more about her brother than she does. Flash is all confused and slightly annoyed because when are they gonna play another prank on Hal? Is he just gonna keep talking to those weirdos all day? And the next?

Billy’s honestly just happy to be here. He never thought he’d get past the age of ten, so doing all of this, helping these heroes while learning more about himself, is just great. He’s speedrunning his way through every moody, self-righteous, hurt, traumatized hero with no sweat on his back.

So yeah, he is beloved and he doesn’t even know it. You betcha that when Cap’s identity is revealed, everyone goes full mama bear/papa bear/protective older brother or sister on him. No way is he leaving without supervision.

Nabu and Booster are rolling their eyes cause hello? That’s the Champion of Magic. If anything, he’s the one they should be worried about.

Yeah, they are politely asked to leave after that. Anyhow Billy, wanna go get some hot chocolate 😘😍

Excuse the word vomit.

[foodtruckery]

y’all i’m thinking about stan’s hearing aid and i have FEELINGS.

yeah, yeah, yeah, i know it shows up exactly once and is pretty clearly written off simply as “old man has hearing aid” because that isn’t unusual at all at stan’s age. and sure, if we consider that filbrick, caryn, and ford are never shown with any hearing devices, we can assume this isn’t hereditary hearing loss.

BUT WHAT IF IT WAS. stan is only 17 when he gets kicked out, and we don’t have canonical ages for filbrick and caryn. so it’s very possible that if hearing loss does run in one of their families, it may not be showing up noticeably yet, or it might not be obvious enough that’s what’s happening. it's really easy to just think "ma is loud" or "pa doesn't pay attention" and that's that.

so i’m thinking about a stan who doesn’t know he’s at risk of losing his hearing early. stan who has so much more to worry about than something like that and who probably wouldn’t even notice it was happening until it got bad enough. stan who gets really fucking good at reading body language and facial expressions so he can grin and saying the right thing at the right time or redirect a conversation where he wants it to go because he can’t admit that he has no idea what the fuck someone said to him. stan who’s so goddamn loud all the time, and sure that’s partially his personality, but that’s also what happens when your hearing starts to go — you get loud and you don’t even realize you are until people start pointing it out.

stan who already has to look over his shoulder all the time being woken up in the middle of the night by a sound like a foghorn that makes him think oh, fuck, rico’s goons found me, they’re outside, i’m fucked, i’m fucked. only to slowly realize….the foghorn isn’t outside, it’s not some guy’s truck. in his head. it’s a horrible sort of tinnitus he didn’t know could sound like that. and it scares the shit out of him every time it happens, cause it’ll keep happening, completely at random, for years.

stan who i refuse to believe has insurance, and even if he did, do you have any idea how expensive hearing aids are??? this motherfucker won’t go and get his vision rx updated, and that’s not difficult insurance to come by, generally speaking. meanwhile, hearing aids aren’t even covered by a lot of plans, and these bastards cost several thousand dollars each. so where the fuck did he get his hearing aid?? is it even programmed for his hearing loss???? and if by some miracle it was, originally, when the hell was the last time he had a test done to get the settings adjusted?? we only see him wearing one — does he only NEED one or is that all he could afford??

when i think of stan and ford out at sea together i always think about stan’s fucking hearing aid. you can’t get that fucker wet, they aren’t waterproof! if he has a battery operated model, how many batteries did he bring with them?? you’d be appalled how often you have to change out a hearing aid battery, and that’s assuming you actually take it out and open the battery door every night — would stan??? or would he try and sleep with the thing in more often than not because even after all these years he can’t stand the idea of not hearing someone coming to hurt him while he’s got it out.

did you know that hearing loss can fuck with your brain if you were a hearing person? if you go too long without being able to make out/understand sounds like speech, your brain can eventually stop trying to parse it. that can increase your risk of things like iterations of dementia. do y'all ever think about how stan’s hearing loss might exacerbate the effects of the memory gun??????

[sugar-crash]

🍬King Candy (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader👑

(Love Language Edition Pt. II!)

(Man the more I think about this song the more it just SCREAMS🔑 King Candy, “I’m that perspective you cannot doubt, see how I look! :D”. THAT’S LITERALLY SOMETHING HE’D SAY)

His love language: Quality Time, Gift Receiving, and Words of Affection

Gift Receiving:

- Yeah so, same gist of how it is when he is Turbo, but with some key differences that make the two really contrast.

- More willing to actually give you things for one, and his gifts are nowhere near as subtle as they used to be.

- It’s like he wants his love to be more apparent, have a kind of flair to it that radiates that goofy aura he’s keen to display for Sugar Rush and you especially.

- As mentioned in a previous post, almost everything he gives you is edible… Mostly because Sugar Rush itself is edible, kind of comes with the territory I guess.

- But he also gives you every opportunity to wander Sugar Rush with him if he isn’t too busy being a king, basically almost full access pass with him gently leading you away from places he deems not important enough to see or simply too dangerous.

- Whenever you give him something in private he practically swoons, overwhelming with his reaction to what you give him, especially when it’s from outside of Sugar Rush entirely— Gives him a small glimpse of what’s out there still.

- In private it’s more personal and accurate, thanking you happily before starting up where you left off last night with your shared conversation.

- He’s very good at keeping what you give him out on display for others to see, always ready to brag about how you care about him so much to the point where you consider his likes and interests when you get him something… And it’s like a little red racing kart keychain or something.

- With how defensive he is over the color of the castle walls, claiming they’re salmon and such, I feel he most certainly shared his distaste for the color to you in private—- Meaning if by some miracle (probably Fix-It Felix if y’all are pals) you get him wall paint to fix it… He’s over the fucking moon for it.

- And maybe you guys can make an activity out of it, painting over it bit by bit, getting rid of all that pinkness— Further cementing his place as king in Sugar Rush.

(Tda qnltifbdt rsk lkiy el ql jurd)

[princessbrunette]

https://www.tumblr.com/princessbrunette/738865892895735808/i-love-the-idea-of-the-innocent-reader-but-with?source=share

I’m here for the drama so

imagine if one of the people JJ and John B were talking about you to snitches to you and makes it seem like they’re both just using you to “do dirty things to you” and that they don’t actually like you or think of you as a friend😭

and even though your pure ass brain doesn’t have a clear or precise idea of the dirty things they’re talking about you still know what being used is and omg the angssst

and then the next time you’re with them you’re very avoidant and subtly snappier and they’re both very taken aback because what happened to their sweet little girl like :(

Eventually you can’t keep ignoring them and being closed off because it’s just not your nature and you end up bursting into tears and angrily warbling to them about it all after they try to confront you about your unusual attitude towards them for the millionth time😩

idk what’s wrong with me I’m just in a silly goofy mood tonight woopsie

-🌙

ohhhhhh the angst.

᧔o᧓⊹ ࣪ ˖

no because a close friend of theirs wouldn’t stir things up like that, they understand — it’s just conversation between dudes, they’ve all been there… no, it would be that the conversation was overheard, somewhere by the docks whilst an outsider was preparing their boat… perhaps, rafe cameron.

he’s never bothered with you in the past. he’s a bad guy, but he’s self aware enough to know you’re actually innocent and not causing anyone harm, so you pose as no threat to him. he’s not going to just pick on random naive girls, even he knew he was too grown for that. you were super pretty though, and he’d always taken a bit of intrigue in you, wondering why you hung out with those lower-class dirtbags. he figured trying anything with you would be useless, jj and john b feeding you lies about the ‘big bad rafe’ enough to keep you glued to their side and docile. that was, until he had a leg up.

the hulking 6’4 cameron approaches you when you’re at the juice bar by the water all alone one day, spotting you on the rare occasion that you’re by yourself. he sidles up to your side, smiling down at you. “hi there.”

you turn, blinking up at him as you take your juice from the cashier, eyes wide and frightened like a baby deer. it made rafes dick jump a little.

“hi?”

“y’know i uh— usually know not to bother you, know you probably heard some pretty not nice things about me n’i’d hate to just… scare you, or something…” he begins, a small crease forming between his brows as he scratches his cheek. you listen to him, sucking your juice through the straw, waiting for him to get to the point.

“i just overheard something… and i think you might wanna know, i mean— if someone was talkin’ about me like this, i’d definitely wanna know.” he touches his chest, staring into your eyes with wide innocent eyes, trustworthy almost. you tilt your head.

“what happened?”

“that john b, and jj… they’re… well, i heard them talkin’…” he stares off at the water, shaking his head like he’s trying to remember the details despite knowing exactly what he’s gonna say. “braggin’ to some other pogue about you… something about how…” he leans in closer, talking quieter as you hang onto every word, straw still caught between your lips. “how bad they wanna fuck you… take that innocence from you…” he acts scandalised and your eyes widen, looking around to see if anyone heard. only they knew you were still a virgin. well, so you thought.

“and look, me personally…” he leans back, holding his hands up in the air. “i just wouldn’t wanna be disrespected like that, you— you’re a young n’dignified woman… shouldn’t let those pogues take that from you, a’ight?”

“it can’t… you must’ve overheard wrong.” you shake your head, brows furrowed, in denial despite that bad feeling in your stomach.

“and what would i gain from randomly making this up, hm?” he tilts his head like you’re dumb before shaking his head, stepping back. “just thought i’d let you know. you have a good day, alright beautiful? i’ll see you around.” and with that he’s striding away, leaving you dumbfound. he figured soon enough you’d find out the truth and come running right into his arms.

you head back to the chateau slowly, deep in thought. you think back on all the interactions you have with the two boys, how touchy they were, the laughs they share when they say certain things you don’t understand. you hated that rafe was right, and it was starting to make sense.

by the time you reach the chateau, you’re in a foul mood. just seeing the two boys there lounging on the couch filled you with emotion. knowing you’d usually go and unknowingly plant yourself between the two of you them and get touched affectionately almost everywhere. you head straight past them to the kitchen, figuring you’d make yourself a sandwich and then go back to your own house for a while.

the boys heads follow you, smiles faltering a little as they watch you uncharacteristically head through the house without even saying hi.

“uh, hello to you too, doll.” jj hops off the back of the couch, following you through to the kitchen where you grumpily pulled bread out of the bread bin.

“how you doin’, pup? you were gone awhile…” john b is close behind, leaning against a table as he observes the back of you.

“m’fine. was at the juice bar.” you deadpan, fumbling the butter knife slightly as you angrily butter the bread.

the two of them sense the tension and share a glance, jj piping up again trying to ease the mood.

“yeah? didn’t bring anything back for papa j?” he chuckles uneasily, and you’re quick to bark a response.

“no. i was busy talking to rafe.”

the atmosphere in the room suddenly changes, john b standing up straight as he looks to jj. “r—rafe? why were you talking to rafe? he’s a lunatic.”

“is he?” you tilt your head, feeling yourself get more mad. they were still just staring at the back of you, wondering what has occurred.

“uh, yeah— are we forgetting his unprovoked attacks on us, orrr when he tried to drown his own sister? i mean the dude is balls to the wall insane, kiddo—”

“well he actually seemed kind of truthful, which apparently is harder to come by than i thought.” you let the knife clatter down on the side, resting your hands against the counter as you give up on the sandwich completely. you hear john b carefully step closer.

“whats going on, sweetheart…”

you turn around, and they’re met with your quivering lip, two streaks of tears down your cheeks as you angrily sniff. jj goes to step closer to comfort you but you hold out an accusatory finger, stopping them both in their tracks. “he heard you! he�� he told me about you two. what you said— what you plan to do to me… you’re just using me aren’t you? just wanna get my pants off when— when all this time i thought we were friends!” you warble, letting out sad sob, the both of them shrinking a little in guilt.

“hey, let’s just talk about this okay?” john b requests calmly, his hands held up infront of him trying to ease you.

“oh i am gonna kill rafe cameron.” jj grits his teeth, beginning to pace, john n instantly striking out an arm to try and keep him cool, the freak out not needed.

“jj. let’s just… deal with this okay— yes, we might’ve said some gross things. we’re— we’re stupid guys and we do stupid things like think with our dicks and — and that’s wrong okay. i fully hold my hands up. if you wanna leave, i understand. but i need you to know, we really, really do care about you. okay? hey—” he comes closer and you let him this time, letting him fuss over you and wipe your tears. “have we ever tried to make you do anything you don’t wanna do?” his eyes are wide, desperate even.

“…no, but… i just didn’t know… you know i don’t know about that kinda stuff.”

“i know, i know okay and we took advantage of that. which is wrong.” he reaches his arm back, smacking jj blindly who’s rubbing his nose bridge with his fingers, making him jump a little. “jj…” john b attracts his attention, trying to get him to help.

the blonde approaches with a sigh, taking your chin between his fingers and gently tugging your gaze to him. “look at me, ‘kay? i’m a total fuck up, i mean everyone knows that but i am really royally fuckin’ up here. you know i really hate that you just willingly listened to rafe, but he… god, can’t believe i’m sayin’ this— he wasn’t lying. we did kinda brag about you. but look at you, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, okay? doesnt make it right— but that’s why. we like you, like actually like you and i swear, swear on my mamas life we are not using you.”

there’s a pause in the air, before john b speaks. “you don’t even know your mom.”

“yeah well the point still stands.”

you sigh, unable to deny the two boys you love. you had to admit, you’d felt things down below for them before, wondering what the feeling was and whether or not they’d help you explore it, so you guess you couldn’t really judge them for feeling that energy too. you shrug, looking at your shoes.

“okay. i believe you.”

you feel the both of them relax, nodding as they crowd your space, john b at your front and jj at your back. “we love you, puppy. like actually. not gonna let anything happen to you, alright?”

“what he said.” jj repeats, hands tucking themselves into your waistband, something he usually did when he said his hands were ‘cold’. you slap his hands and he removes them quickly, nodding. “yep, too soon— got it.”

᧔o᧓⊹ ࣪ ˖

[bad-surprise]

i find many people in fandom incredibly annoying. that is not a secret and it is not a sin. it is far better, in my opinion, to talk through these feelings privately than to approach said individuals because being annoying is a) not a crime in any way, shape, or form, and b) fully subjective. i am sure other fans find me annoying, and they have every right to talk through their frustrations privately with trusted friends. they also have every right to block whoever they’d like or to share whatever i’ve posted that’s upset them with their friends in order to provide context for their emotions. it might hurt my feelings sometimes and i may not like it, but that doesn’t make it wrong.

as a queer black woman, i find it extremely upsetting when the language of social justice is used in bad faith by those looking to evade accountability for shitty behavior. that is the context of those remarks.

everything i said in that conversation i would state publicly. i didn’t, though, because it seemed pointless at the time. conversation with those involved (not any of the accounts who have centered themselves in this discussion) had already been attempted and the deliberate misrepresentation of events, warping of words, and bad faith tactics that followed rendered the situation hopeless.

fandom is not a monolith. we are allowed to have different opinions on everything, and i really enjoy productive conversations with those who have differing views, so long as they’re rooted in a genuine desire for mutual understanding. people i am friends with are free to be friends with people i dislike, i have never policed that and never will.

i am always open to conversation and will offer clarifications if they’re requested in good faith. i would also point out that the screenshots being shared are very carefully selected excerpts of a broader conversation— it might be wise to ask why those specific quotes (which were poorly worded at times, sure— that makes sense considering that they were part of private conversations between supportive friends who understood each other’s context, values, and intent) were decontextualized and used for this purpose.

initially, this fandom was a very creative place, filled with diversity of thought and opinion, characterized by a sense of curiosity, imagination, and collaboration. the occasional bad actor popped up, yes, and there have always been issues with antis (which i define as those who believe there is a moral component to shipping, though it seems like in this case it is being applied to people who simply have differing opinions about a ship beloved by both parties) and those outside of the fandom who dislike the ship, but generally it was a pleasant space in which to exist alongside others. that has slowly diminished to the extent that it’s now very difficult to find reasons to remain involved. i worry that the point of all this is to push people out, but i also hope that isn’t the case.

there is no right or wrong way to ship sauron and galadriel. there is no right or wrong way to ship, full stop.

i’m so fucking exhausted by this conversation and by the fact that accusations of racism or homophobia in this fandom so often target black and queer individuals, misrepresenting our response to circumstances where our lived experiences are repeatedly decontextualized, devalued, disregarded, or manipulated in the service of something as petty as a ship war. it’s not leftism, it’s not social justice— it’s tone policing as an attempt to stoke moral outrage, and it feels a hell of a lot like an effort to dictate the rules of participation in a ship.

but i genuinely believe there’s enough room here for all of us, including those individuals i personally find disingenuous and/or annoying.

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

(im)perfectionist

vinny hong x jo!reader

jay jo's imperfectionist sister meets the flawful vinny hong.

part 8

part 7 | part 9

part warnings: fem!reader, jo!reader (jay is reader's 1 year older brother, but they're in the same class), second person's pov (you, you're, your), wb main story SPOILERS

—

“The fuck is wrong with you?!” Vinny kept spewing strings of curses while holding Sung by the back of his shirt’s collar. He was fuming mad. Furious.

“Ow, Ow! That hurts! I’m sorry! Let go of me already!” Sung, despite being held roughly, still had the balls to unremorsefully laugh at Vinny's pissed face, even enjoying angering him more. “It’s because you move too slow! I’m getting impatient, just talk to her already!” 

“I swear I’m gonna wring your neck–”

Sung released himself from Vinny’s hold on the back of his shirt’s collar by force, and once again saw it as an opportunity to escape and dash outside in the hallway. Now they’ve caught other students’ attention because of the commotion they’re making.

“You little shit, come back here, motherfucker!” Vinny chased his friend down the hall paying no mind to the stares they got and people they bumped into.

After a while, the two eventually got tired from all the running. Panting and sweaty, Sung slid down the wall near the classroom window. Vinny held his knees and fell beside him. When Sung turned to his friend he let out another breathy laugh.

“Not a word.” Vinny hissed to warn him to shut his up. His nose was almost fuming smoke from anger, and at the same time exhaustion. 

The reason for their little immature chasedown? Well… Vinny went out to get some fresh air for a while near the end of the class. And Sung, being Sung, suddenly decided it was a good idea to get ahold of his friend’s phone that was left unattended on his table to suggestively text you by the number he got from Minu’s phone.

“What? I did you a favor y’know. You can just deny you sent the text and she’ll believe you, obviously nobody would believe you’d text like that! You’ll have your first conversation through text.” Sung bowed his head while still catching his breath.

“You fucking–” Vinny cursed under his breath and decided to leave it. He was already tired from their little chasedown, he can’t hide Sung’s body if he murders him now. “I’m not interested in her. And I told you, she’s not one to fool around with.”

“I know that, but really? Nobody will settle with just friends after all that. I mean a girlfriend, as in a female friend is always cool, but I just wish you’d have a girlfriend. It’s enough already that I don’t have one, I’m saving you from the same fate.”

“Friends your face.” Vinny was the first to stand up and reach for his backpack, hanging it around one of his shoulders. “Who do you think you are, playing cupid? If you want to fool around you go talk to her yourself. I’m practicing with the crew tomorrow, and I’m giving back her glasses. If everyone else finds out about your little prank, I swear I will drag you all the way from wherever you are and slaughter you in front of everyone.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Once again Sung made it a laughing stock, “I'm still consistent with my prayer so you can finally get a girlfriend. Preferably a medical rookie.” he maliciously mumbled his last words and patted Vinny’s shoulder, prompting Vinny to threaten to hit him again, which Sung dodged before he picked his own bag up and exited the classroom first, his laughter echoing even outside.

—

“What’s that?”

“Calculus.”

Dom, who couldn’t find anyone to talk to, because the others were busy and won’t pay attention to him, squatted in front of you to watch you while you were sitting on the bench, doing your homework.

“Really? Studying? I thought you were here for us?” Dom pouted, you stifled a grin as you realized, Sometimes, Dom really does resemble Jordan. You were here as a bystander to their practice this afternoon.

“I can prioritize both at the same time.” You got back to solving the equation at hand. You need to finish this thing off so you can start writing your resignation letter and the two, or three remaining notes Jay lent you after you skipped school for a week because of your “flu”.

Dom kept watching you with doe eyes, amazed at how quickly you were jumping from one equation to another, his eyes can’t even catch up and follow your hand movements anymore.

You closed your notebook, startling Dom.

“All done.”

“What? That fast?!” Dom looked at you and then your notebook while you stretched your torso. “Can you teach me? Pretty please?”

“Another time. Not in the mood. Just copy mine.” You flung your homework to him, which he caught, great reflexes.

“Sweet! Thanks.” Dom took pictures of your homework. “By the way, have you completed your notes? I think I have the notes you missed during your absence, I can lend them to you as a token of thanks.”

“I'm done with them already. Thanks.” 

After being bedridden for weeks because of the stitches on your back, you were so bored so copied Jay’s notes, which he sent without you having to tell him to. You cannot help your bedriddenness, though. Not when your wound stings and travels from the wound to the back of your legs whenever you stand up even only to go to the bathroom.

“Okay, suit yourself!” 

Dom happily wiggled sitting on the floor and taking pictures of your homework placed flat at the seat of the bench. You left the bench to him and walked towards Jay, who seemed to be zoning out.

“Hey, how’s home these past few days? Is Kay eating well?” 

If there’s something you were worried about back at home, it’s him. You weren't worried much about Jay, you were more worried about Kay. Unlike you and Jay, he’s more vulnerable because he doesn’t know how to operate the stove to cook for himself. So looking out for his health is one of your concerns especially since he’s prone to starving himself to watch cat shows without interruption and forgetting to eat while doing his homework.

“Yeah. He started eating vegetables when you told him cats are attracted to vegetarians.” You laughed, he really believed that. Regardless, you were glad that you made him eat healthy. “He’s starting to overwork himself, though.”

Worry etched on your face, “Why?” 

“Mom keeps telling him she’ll throw Jack away from the house if he slacks off. You know how much he loves Jack.”

You thought hard. You can’t suggest Kay to live with you in the apartment instead. And besides, it’ll be a miracle if your mother ever agrees to that. She’ll see that as you recruiting Kay to rebel against her, too.

“Speaking of mom, is she trying to… patch things up with you?” Jay hesitantly asked. He knows what’s up. Even if he doesn’t show, he’s observant. You know he does.

You didn’t have to ask him what he meant. You knew exactly what he was referring to. You thought hard if you’d tell him the thing about the arranged marriage. The cause of your anger on the night you got stabbed and Vinny found you. You chose not to, come what may. Maybe another time.

“Yeah. Small talks.”

“Oh.” Jay chose not to ask further. He knows you’re not ready to talk about it even after all the years that have passed. He knows you’ll talk about it when you’re ready to talk about it.

Discomfort etched on your face as you remembered that feeling, but you shook your head and shrugged the thought off. You and Jay talked about some other things like snacks and light school stuff, until Mia called Jay to teach her how to bike. Jay excused himself and you got back to your seat on the bench a while ago.

“Okay, time to work on this.”

You began composing your resignation letter, as your Student Body adviser told you to pass your resignation letter within this day for the void to be effective the next day. What a pain. Instead of resting you’ll head back to the school after. You shouldn’t have come here if Vinny won’t show up to give your glasses back. 

Speaking of him though, where the hell is he?

You vividly remember this morning, while you were getting ready for school, he texted you unexpectedly while you were drying your hair with a towel.

—

“Damn it, I still have to write my resignation letter later. I guess I won’t be able to come to Hummingbird’s practice.” you mumbled to yourself. You messaged your Student Council adviser in advance and that's his reply.

Having that new knucklehead President as a replacement for Jay was impactful. Not a good impactful. A bad impactful. You were doing the important paperworks alone because he’s always missing in action, and council work became hectic. Your undereyes were darkening.

You pulled out of your drawer to use some concealer, but you were distracted when your phone beeped.

Angry tomato head: come by later at practice.

Angry tomato head: your glasses.

Well, guess the universe is telling you to come to their practice, after all. You can’t tell him to just hand it to anyone, even Jay. They’re already suspecting something between you and Vinny.

—

“There he is! Over here!” Yuna announced while waving at the redhead.

While dragging his bike, he accidentally laid eyes on you for a second but averted his eyes. He looked mad about something… as usual. He always looks like that. It’s obvious that’s his default face. He looks like a rottweiler practicing his scary face.

Minu immediately called the crew members to practice, so you didn’t get the chance to ask him for what you needed from him, and he was blocked by the others from your sight so he wouldn’t be able to pass through. You can’t interrupt their practice, looks like you’re going to have to stay for a while. Nevermind, you needed a place outside school to write the letter, anyway. You continued writing your resignation letter. 

A few corrections, crumpled paper, scribble, toss. Corrections, crumpled paper, scribble, toss, repeat. Corrections, crumpled paper, scribble, toss, repeat.

Finally, you raised the paper containing your final output, also hearing Minu’s voice in the background yelling, “good work, guys!”. You guess they finished their practice at the same time. You took that long to compose a resignation letter? You folded the paper loosely and sneakily looked for an opportunity to initiate a subtle close proximity as the others including Yuna and Mia. 

You were going to leave to pass your resignation letter, so you must approach Vinny now.

While everyone was busy yapping, you sneaked up behind Vinny—who seemed uninterested in what the crew were talking about, and stood almost beside him. Almost, because although close, not close-close. You lightly nudged Vinny, who didn’t notice you at first. He immediately got the signal and fished out from his jacket’s pocket. 

His hand was so close to discreetly handing over your glasses without a case, not until Dom creeped on the both of you from behind, peeking at the object on your hand. “Hey, why does he have your eyeglasses? Are you not telling us anything?”

Now all eyes were at you two. Even Minu, who was talking about random shit, stopped to look at you two, and Jay. You can tell from their looks that your not so secret transaction raised their suspicions even more than the first time they sensed something going on between you and Vinny.

Now you want to kill Dom.

***

© reesespeanutbutterfuck 2023, don't forget to support your creators by reblogging !!!

[britcision]

New day new conspiracy to be unhinged about woooooo

SO.

This right here.

The moment where Kabru reveals he’s Milsiril’s baby boy (and more relevantly the last survivor of Utaya)

Kabru telling them that he actually wanted to enlist in the Canaries directly, but couldn’t because of the racial barrier. How true that is……. Well let’s say I’m sure he wanted to when he was little, buuuuut by the time he left it wasn’t that they wouldn’t let him

And tbh the reason why is very much the next panel:

The Canaries learn he’s Milsiril’s little boy and immediately fucking claim him as theirs, asking if he’s been eating well, if he wants cake, telling him to cheer up and smile sometimes

It is notably the convicts, especially Otta and Fleki although Cithis has been leading the conversation; Pattadol is not in frame and Mithrun ruins all their fun by staying on track

Kabru is not 30 seconds out of saying he was raised by their vice commander before he is being babied, and there’s a fun read of just “well this is our child now we must care for him for Milsiril hello new nephew”

But. Given what we later learn Milsiril’s care is actually like. The room where Kabru could eat all the cake that he wanted, that he never ever wanted to return to even when freezing and starving.

Where she gave him such arduous and extensive sword training he thought he would die, with the stated intent of showing him how bad it could be to make him give up and stay with her forever.

“Wanna eat some cake” is suddenly a much darker comment, and doesn’t have a directional bubble, so I’mma pin it on Cithis on general Sketchy Bitch vibes

Now, that only makes sense if these folks know Milsiril directly, or have some way to know what her home life is like for her adoptees

(Or Cithis can read minds which let’s be honest absolutely no one needs to be true but she deserves it)

But. So does that immediate tonal shift

“Oh, you’re Milsiril’s kid. Now we care about you beyond being an interruption.”

We know Pattadol is on her very first mission. We know Cithis has been responsible for Mithrun’s care for long enough while he’s back on active duty that she gets bored of her new doll.

(And that she only started respecting him after they acquired Pattadol, whiiiiich. He got back to active duty 14 years ago. None of the other Canaries got their own timeline, but he’s also had long enough to have an established track record of getting his warden partners killed

When Flamela assigns Cithis to his wellbeing, she pretty clearly knows the extent of his caretaking issues, and this whole section of the timeline is fuzzy, but it is specifically Pattadol who is the first to tempt Cithis into telling Mithrun to hurt her

And specifically not until after he refuses that she begins to respect him)

Milsiril has been retired for the same 14 year period, taking Kabru and for some reason one of her own Canary convicts home with her, but she served with Mithrun when he initially became a Dungeon Lord 40 years pre series… and most of that squad died in Mithrun’s dungeon

(Also his lover became a snake person at some point for some reason sooooo monsterfucker ahoy)

(We know that’s the lover from both Mithrun’s initial vision and his Adventurer’s Bible comic which identifies his brother as the one with the short hair. Presumably they were not always a snake?)

None of the names he gave Kabru in his backstory refer to any of his current party members

Otta and Fleki mention Milsiril in Otta’s comic when teasing Otta about being a pedophile because she only dates halffoot women and breaks up with them when they turn 30

(This being past middle age for halffoots, who become adults at 13 and live to around 50; Chilchuck is 29.

One might expect… say… visible signs of aging to show up around 30. Reminders of how little time they have left. Although, frankly, how much free time does Otta actually have to be dating outside of work???? They’re so shorthanded Mithrun made captain the minute he could serve after Utaya)

Ahem. We digress.

Otta’s reaction (directly saying Milsiril treats shorter lived people like pets while she loves them as individuals, which Kabru Does Not Deny) might be because she’s seen Milsiril’s behaviour directly, or just being sick of the comparison. Hard to say, but Milsiril already doesn’t like elves

No, the conspiracy theory today is that CITHIS in particular has worked with Milsiril between Mithrun being rescued and Utaya’s destruction, possibly with Fleki and Otta

They’re all close to Mithrun’s age so there’s a very real possibility they were serving when Utaya fell, and either were lucky enough not to get sent there (there are so many dungeons in the world) or unlucky enough not to retire in the aftermath

Dumping Mithrun with Milsiril’s survivors makes perfect sense - the two had served together as wardens and Milsiril Barest Possible Minimum took a personal interest in Mithrun returning to duty after Utaya

She’s the one getting him to take his first steps and tells him she’ll get him back in a dungeon

Milsiril, known hater of elves, left the Canaries on good enough terms with her convicts to take one with her (Helki, shown in Mithrun’s story and Kabru’s training flashbacks - the only other survivor we know of from Mithrun’s dungeon)

And these particular convicts immediately brighten up knowing that Kabru is one of Milsiril’s; he’s in a very different position from Mithrun, who basically has direct power over their lives and deaths, but if you have a potentially unstable new captain who’s gonna be extra dependent on his convicts coming in…

Well, it’d be nice if the convicts have a reason beyond “well if both of our wardens die we can’t use magic so we will too” to keep him alive and moving

Note: they did at some point hand him directly over to fucking Cithis, who has an established track record of wrapping her captains around her little finger and doing whatever the fuck she wants anyway

(To the point that she’s left and “rejoined” the Canaries multiple times, and her behaviour with Mithrun is considered her having calmed down… while actively trying to have him hurt his subordinate wardens and plotting to kill Pattadol)

So. Not. Y’know. Convinced that anyone necessarily was thinking that particular assignment through. Although you could argue that they were just heading off the inevitable and letting her know this one is high maintenance

ANYWAY.

Tl;dr: Mithrun’s a monsterfucker, this is established fact and not a conspiracy theory

Kabru’s been adopted by the Canaries the second they know who his mom is, which may explain why no one actually tries to stop him when he grabs Mithrun later despite him not having a weapon

(Fear of Milsiril finding out they’ve hurt her boy > rescuing Mithrun or later even stopping Kabru from helping Laios repeatedly)

And Cithis, Fleki, and possibly Otta worked directly with Milsiril at one point before Utaya, which is why Mithrun was given them specifically - he was one of Milsiril’s projects too, Milsiril’s personal involvement unclear

How much this has to do with Mithrun getting all his warden comrades killed but apparently not his convicts: unclear

(Still bet Cithis “helped” with the warden before Pattadol)

[hazbinbossbrainrot]

Hazbin Hotel Headcanons:

- Bee & Angel would be best friends (the common denominator being that they’re both insects and have musical abilities)

- Angel Dust doesn’t know the rest of the Seven Deadly Sins except Asmodeus the King of Lust (cuz go figure 🤭) which is his favourite

<> His least favourite Deadly Sin is Mammon (because he reminds him too much of Valentino)

- Angel & Husk have private conversations in Italian because no one else understands

- Husk has reading glasses (boat-shaped) but refuses to use them 😂

- Anthony (Angel Dust) definitely watched RuPaul’s Drag Race when he was alive

- Emily is actually Charlie’s half sister (staying here until confirmed otherwise 🤭)

- Despite being annoyed with Angel Dust (as a person); Alastor gets taught the “gay language” like ‘that’s the tea' etc

- Angel Dust definitely now sings “Loser, Baby” all the time to himself (like the rest of us 🤣)

- Cherri Bomb feels inferior to Husk because 1. She’s Angel’s best friend first and 2. He stops him from being “fucked up”

- Angel Dust has characteristics of ASD (considering that his personality is based on Alaska Thunderfuck who’s definitely on the spectrum with a combination of Trixie Mattel) and also ADHD

- It was stated that Husk was/is family oriented so I definitely have a hunch that he’d would have a family before he died

- Angel Dust (due to the abuse from Valentino) would have a praise/validation kink with a significant other

- Husk’s room is a representation of Las Vegas and has a poker table (for sure!) and a scratching post to file down his claws 😂

- Angel unofficially dated (?) Valentino before things started going downhill (increasingly fast & really bad)

- Alastor had a passion for dad jokes (and annoys everyone with it 😂)

- Husk was definitely friends with good Bee back when he was an overlord (common denominator being their passion being honesty and authenticity)

- Angel habitually locks his door (even at the Hazbin Hotel) because it makes him feel safer

<> Because of this Husk either respectfully knocks on the door or leaves his gift (a bottle of alcohol) outside

- Frank (one of the Egg Boiz) becomes roommates with Angel after he saved his life in 1x08 🥹

- Angel Dust ironically has arachnophobia 🤣 (AKA “fear of spiders”)

- Husk is a gentleman (more implied than HC) in a 101 ways and definitely would be the “old-fashioned” type

- Alastor forces Husk to keep his “overlord attire” to as a reminder of what he had lost

- Angel Dust’s best feature of his body (canonically implied) is chest however — outside of work — will only let certain people touch it

<> Which kind makes sense since he shows off his chest (proud) but keeps his feet hidden (insecure)

- Charlie and Angel Dust have a sibling relationship (definitely canonically implied) but extended of that she’d ask for his opinion or ask him to do her makeup for a big event or something more significant

- When drunk and angry Angel definitely rambles in Italian but no one else understands (except Husk)

- The Seven Deadly Sins are all best friends (except for Mammon)

- Angel Dust has age regression (which is very common victims who have PTSD)

- Husk always makes gambling idioms ~ ie: “I keep my cards to my chest” (translation: I’m a private person)

- Angel Dustdied on his birthday date which is why he doesn’t like to celebrate it anymore

- The minute Charlie learns that Angel is Italian; she goes out of her way to learn the language (as any good surrogate sibling would 🥹)

- Husk doesn’t enjoy card games that don’t involve gambling (so ie Blackjack which is more about getting the numbers than betting money) but sometimes would do it for fun ~ very rarely though

- Niffty & Charlie are actually huge “Huskerdust” fans and would do anything to get Angel and Husk together

- If Husk ever drank coffee he’d have a short or long black without sugar or milk (which often shows maturity)

- Once Angel Dust is comfortable with someone he’d constantly lay on the dad jokes (especially the 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 fruity 🏳️‍🌈 ones)

- Husk waits up for Angel Dust — whether it be 5 AM in the morning— before packing up the bar

- Every 🩷 motif on Angel Dust are the places he’s most sensitive area (so technically his sweet spots)

- Despite Husk being an alcoholic he has actually has a high tolerance of alcohol and would take a lot to get to that point (something emotional related)

- Husk’s real name is either a “Henry” (most likely), “Huxley” or a “Henrik”

<> Henry means “estate ruler” which I thought made the most sense because he owned a casino at one point 🤔

- Adam admires Angel Dust and his porn videos so much he copied his eyeliner (same shape and everything 🤣)

- Alastor cheated when he challenged Husk to a game of cards (there’s no way he wouldn’t have)

- Husk’s casino is called “The Lucky Cat” (or something like that) which is funny because it’s the opposite of him

- Vaggie mistakes Huskerdust’s flirting (who are clearly dating) as Angel sexually harassing Husk 🤣

- Husk zodiac sign is a Leo ♌️ (🐱)

- Angel definitely teases Husk about his age despite being 12 years younger than him (or supposed to be if he hadn’t died in his 30s)

- Husk hates cats which is why he hates his sinner form so much and hates the animal noises that comes out (particularly when matching with the right mood)

- Niffty definitely “ships” Huskerdust and definitely makes fanfiction about them 🤭

- Angel Dust would definitely get triggered by Alastor if he pulled Husk’s chain in front of him (because it mentally brings the former right back to Valentino again)

- Whenever Cherri Bomb and Husk argue Angel Dust is quick to diffuse the situation (not canon but definitely implied in 1x06 “Welcome to Heaven”)

- Husk can read nonverbals not just because it’s necessary for a bartender but also necessary for a gambler (literally need exceptional body language skills to see if someone is bluffing etc)

- Angel Dust becomes “Anthony” whenever he’s severely intoxicated or drugged up

- Fat Nuggets acts like a emotional support animal which is why Angel Dust doesn’t have the heart to rehome him (despite being gifted by Valentino)

- After watching Princess and the Frog for the umpteenth time Angel officially calls Husk “Shadowman” (IFYKYK 🤭) much to his annoyance 😂

- Husk was a bouncer before he died (he definitely had that “bouncer” energy in episode 1x04)

- Angel Dust doesn’t have Voxflix so he has to sometimes miss RuPaul’s Drag Race (and gets irritable when he has sacrifice missing it 🤣)

- Lucifer brings in the other Deadly Sins to help out with Charlie’s hotel as a side job thing and make them become “teachers” for their respective sins

- Angel Dust’s Italian surname would either be:

<> Romano - (inside joke of his VA’s surname)

<> Soprano - (classic Italian surname 🤣)

<> D'Amico or D'Angelo

- Husk was/is also very good friends with Beelzebub (back when he was overlord) because of their common interest in authenticity and alcoholism 🤭

- When Angel said “Gawd Niff why you being such a mess?!” in 1x06 he was probably quoting off something that Henroin, his father, said to him

- Viv may have based Husk, ironically, on her cat called “Valentino” (minus the wings obviously 😂)

- Angel swore off dating after what happened with Valentino (albeit may potentially think about starting dating again with the right person demon *coughs* — Husk)

- Husk always talks / texts — depending on how Angel feels like doing — until he falls asleep whether doing it via platonically or romantically 🥹

- Angel often catches Husky singing to himself (either “Too Sweet” by Hozier or “Loser Baby” and would watch him for a moment 🤭

<> In other words he enjoys just listening to him sing and watching him be in his own world as he gets more and more into it

- Husk has poker-themed songs on Spotify — who definitely has '60s - '70s music — (but he doesn’t know how to separate them into playlists so he has them in the “Liked Songs” category 🤣)

- Alastor messes with Husk’s Spotify playlist (despite not enjoying technology but likes watching him suffer)

Huskerdust / Anthusker edition:

- Angel is terrified of horror movies (however picks them out regardless for the sake of jumping into Husk’s arms when picking out movies 🤣)

- Husk is definitely “forced” (metaphorically) to watch RuPaul’s Drag Race with Angel Dust and would be the type to get upset if he watched it without him 🤣

- Husk & Angel call each other “baby” and “loser” (affectionately) because it reminds them of their duet

- Fat Nuggets, Frank (post 1x08 🤭), & Niffty are definitely Angel & Husk’s “children” 😂

- Husk due to being the “King of Consent” always fusses about being able to touch Angel even when given the okay 🤣

- Angel goes to Husk’s room whenever he has PTSD / nightmares about Valentino (platonically)

- Husk keeps the “Huskerdust dynamic” with Angel Dust in front of other people; but in private he’s more laidback towards him

- Husk is actually sensual and clingy within the relationship with someone (which is why he’s so emotionless before getting intimate with someone)

- Angel & Husk sing/dance to each other when feeling down to make each other feel better

- Husk definitely watches Angel Dust’s porn movies in private in his spare time (mainly at bedtime where there’s no one around 🤭)

- Angel uses the white noise of Husk’s saxophone to help him sleep (especially after a nightmare about Valentino)

- Husk sings / whistle “Loser, Baby” constantly to himself (and sometimes Angel Dust joins in)

<> Huskerdust have a sort of “pact” that if Angel wants any sort of physical contact with Husk he either has to make the first move or give him a “green light” (because Husk won’t take initiative until allowed )

- Anthony first fell in love with Husk (who fell harder) — since the pilot episode 🤭 — but didn’t know how else how to react so he relied on “Angel Dust’s” personality

- Husk is the “take it slow” type of person (implied) and not the one to always rush into a relationship

- Angel & Husk would definitely go for midnight flights with this soundtrack in the background:

- Husk always gets roped into cuddles & purring (particularly when Angel has one of his rough nights of being SA'd 💔😭)

- Angel is obsessed with Husk’s tonality and gets all sorts of worked up (in a good, sexual way)

- Huskerdust constantly argue about whether Angel should go to Heaven or stay in Hell with Husk ~ which often lead to a heated make out session 🤭

- Angel goes to Husk’s room whenever he has PTSD / nightmares about Valentino (platonically)

<> Husk cuddles Angel — for the umpteenth time — he’s had any sort of nightmare & or PTSD (intimately)

<> Husk’s favourite part of Angel’s body would be his chest and his gold tooth every time he smiled

- Angel always sends acronyms to Husk which irritates the latter in frustration not knowing what it means (ie BAE etc) 🤣

<> Huskerdust would come to an agreement of having an “open relationship” (practically polygamous) due to the fact that Angel Dust is a sex worker & pornstar

- Angel Dust is foreign to lubricants (or if he does know he’s used to it in a very little amounts) and might need a “reintroduction” to a brief sex-ed lesson with the right person

- When in a very drunken state Husk always subconsciously finds himself in front of Angel’s door and knocks on it without thinking 🤭

- Even as Anthony — Angel Dust — will make occasional dirty jokes or sexual innuendos (even in front of Husk) but it’s genuine rather than OTT hypersexuality

- Husk always thinks (internally) that Angel is beautiful every day but really falls hard when he’s just woken up with disheveled hair and no makeup on

Credits to: @a-schmoozer-and-a-dummy

- Even when dating Angel Anthony gets a little anxious about the topic of sex when talking to Husk (and quickly shuts it down)

- Husk always puts planning his dates with Angel 200% effort and goes to great lengths (also always thinking of the best romantic spots to take him)

- Angel always end up falling asleep against Husk’s chest (especially when the purring starts 🤭)

- Post episode 4+ (hopefully gonna happen in S2) Husk lets Angel rest his legs over his lap

Credits to: @huskerdustfanart for giving me this idea

- Angel tries to teach Husk how to use his phone and what certain apps actually do 🤣 (much to his irritation of being able to use it)

- Husk doesn’t like other people sitting on the counter of his bar however will let Angel do it (which is saying a lot in itself 🤭)

Credits to: @triona-tribblescore for giving me this idea

- Angel often suggests Husk to give him a massage after he’s finished working (knowing full well he loves them) which the other always consents to and ends up sighing with absolute satisfaction 🥰

- Huskerdust actually met as humans (since their timeline is roughly within each other) but forgot they met by the time they arrived in Hell — what with being 12 years apart — and chose different names for themselves entirely

- Angel teaches himself how to read non verbals (by being around Husk so much 🤭) and roast people

- Husk loves Angel Dust’s New Yorker accent but enjoys his Italian one even more — even when he rambles in fluent Italian — because he likes to think that was his “real self”

- Huskerdust often do slow dancing together (like Sway with Me or the Tango)

- Despite being a bottom Angel will rarely suggest he becomes a top with Husk once he starts to see the other get slightly exhausted 🥰

- Husk takes care of Fat Nuggets for Angel Dust whilst he’s at work (bonus points if he ensures their “children” are safe and looks after them as well)

- Angel doesn’t like anyone else using the term “loser” (takes it as an insult) unless it’s Husk as if it’s one of those inside joke things

- Husk always gives Angel a piggy back ride when he’s either really drunk or emotionally exhausted after work

- Angel boasts to everyone that he’s in the one in “charge” (as a top) of his and Husk’s relationship 🤣

- Huskerdust would definitely be the type of couple to always be in their “honeymoon phase”

- When Angel gives cuddles to Husk he always gives him head scratches and rubs his ears (where cats like it the most in real life)

- Husk always gives Angel a “Sex On The Beach” cocktail ad an inside joke about their past relationship

- After work Angel always gets escorted at night by Husk (like the minute his shift ends 🥰) to protect him from both Valentino and any unsavoury people

- Husk puts music on and starts to dance around (ie dramatically impersonating Elvis Presley) just to make Angel Dust even if it meant he gets to mock him for it

- Angel loves everything about Husky (although he’d love him 10x more when he’s his usual grumpy self)

- Husk would be the type of dad to build stuff from scratch for his kids (besides Angel loves his men with a tool; so it’s a win-win situation 😜

Angel pulls a “Gloria” (from Modern Family ) when it comes to refusing to take his heels off — even when they start to hurt his feet

<> Which makes Husk — being the gentleman he is — go and buys something comfortable for him 🥹

- Husk buys a pink set of cards for Angel (so he can play against him for fun 🤭)

- Angel sneezes mouse-like (small and feminine) and Husky sneezes whale-like (large and loud)

- Husk gets ferally overprotective particularly when unsavoury comments are made about or to Angel 😏

- When Husk goes to Angel’s shows the latter puts 200% extra effort into his performance

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

TMA/TME is like woke misgendering wtf are these people on about. Someone’s agab is absolutely none of your business and the fact that people will treat each other differently based on it is so fucked.

Oh HOW DARE transmasculine people use language to talk about their unique experiences with discrimination and whatnot, clearly oppressive and hurtful to transfems /s

it’s just such a weird hill to die on that comes down to oppression olympics. Trans women are more likely to get a attacked in public than trans men, but trans men do in fact still face conversion therapy, assaults, and corrective rapes if they’re outed. Applying the TME label to other people has always come off as very othering in an “I’m more oppressed than you so sit down and don’t discuss TERFs or any trans rights issue that affects more trans women than men” type of way. It’s also a conversation non-binary people are left out of because there is a very narrow scope of who these sorts of people believe are able to experience transmisogyny. Like is a non-binary amab only capable of experiencing transmisogyny if they personally align with a feminine identity? Or is it decided by what an outsider interprets them as being?

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Im not too sure if I am too late for the error and killer debate, but as someone who also thinks they'd get along I wanted to add my thoughts into the mix AKJSHD (as a hardcore error fan.... om btw sry for the wall of text). Even though error wants to destroy anomalies, he literally considers himself as the biggest anomaly (he even calls himself "#1 anomaly"). His entire shtick is being a hypocrite and he contradicts himself constantly. So while killer might be a huge anomaly in his eyes, if they'd meet under normal circumstances (aka error is not actively trying to destroy AU's) i think he'd just talk with Killer normally because yes Error is extremely lonely. And regarding errors emotional outbursts, those mostly happen when he is being extremely paranoid. Which might be an issue with killer on occasion? But I think error would realize that killer has no ulterior motives with him(i think?), which would calm him down for the most part. Either way, error is mostly calm though.

Also I think they are similar in ways too, that error, even though he wants his boundaries to be respected, has no idea how to treat other people and their boundaries (he literally kidnaps people and has no clue how to react to people who are also being emotional). Error is kind of rly selfish in that way lol. Not to mention, error most likely has schizophrenia/psychosis himself, considering he is delusional and hallucinates too (he literally "initiates" physical contact with his hallucination). Which is why I think, that once error would deal with his haphephobia and be more aware of his mental state, he would most likely be craving touch as well (because one he has been in isolation for a long time, and two to also make sure that the person he is talking to isn't just in his head).

Honestly for the most part, I like to imagine that they'd get along really well once they both kinda dealt with their major issues.UGH IDK THO??? (I rly have minimal knowledge of killer but lots of error sooo any more thoughts on this?).

Don’t worry, you aren’t too late. Anyone’s always welcome to add their insights whenever they want!

And I’m glad to hear your views on this, it sounds pretty reasonable and realistic. And the only time I can see Killer having any ulterior motives when interacting with Error specifically would be if Nightmare sends him to get something from Error, he gets bored and starts attempting to provoke Error just to see what happens, or possibly if he thinks Error could help him with his codes.

That last one, however, is something I feel is unlikely to actually happen even if Killer considers the notion a bit; simply because Killer would not want to ask for help from someone he hardly knows or trusts with something so vulnerable about himself. I’m sure he’s aware that Error is aware of his reprogrammed/altered codes, but I doubt he’d tolerate it being brought up outside of “you’re a fucked up little anomaly aren’t you?” type of thing.

I’m sure the two of them would have a lot of meta conversations that would make anyone else who overheard believe they’re absolutely insane and delusional. Voices? Players? Creators? It sounds insane to anyone who doesn’t know.

[communistkenobi]

I'm not gonna lie Nick, I've been following you for a long time and I almost always agree with what you say so this isn't in any way meant to be polemic or hostile and you don't have to answer if you don't want to. But, as a trans person myself, I don't understand how genital preference can be transphobic? I mean, the way people declare it can be transphobic, or the reason for it - but preference itself? isn't it, for most people at least, an intrinsic thing? Again I'm not asking this to bait you into discourse or anything I just. Genuinely trust your judgment on things. that's all, love <3

If you don’t want to sleep with someone because they’re, for example, fat, or disabled, or intersex, or have some other physical characteristic that would alter a sexual encounter in a way you wouldn’t expect with a “default” or “normal” body - is that not on some level bigoted? If you tried to sleep with a cis guy but found out he had a micro penis and decided against sleeping with him, or you tried to hook up with a cis woman with large labia and got turned off, is that “just an intrinsic preference”?

Yes people have preferences and preferences do not carry inherent moral judgement. But it’s worth asking: where do my preferences come from? if you meet a trans person, and you are attracted to them, and the only reason you don’t want to sleep with them is because you don’t want to interact with their genitals, because you believe a trans person’s genitals are universally unattractive, then like, why lol? “Transphobic” is a flat descriptor for bigoted beliefs or assumptions about trans people, and in the pantheon of transphobic things to believe or say or do, that’s not like super high on the list. I don’t think you’re an irredeemably bad person or whatever. You are also not doing activism by having sex with people you’re not attracted to or don’t want to have sex with, I’m not suggesting anyone do that because that would be bad for everyone involved. But attraction is socially mediated and explored - fetishes, kinks, turn-ons and turn offs can have embedded social values in them, some of them good and some of them not - and if your only hang-up with fucking a trans person is because they have “incorrect” or “incongruous” genitals to what you normally expect, then I think that’s a shitty hang-up to have. Is it “intrinsic” to find a trans person’s body a turn off? Are we intrinsically programmed as human beings to find transgender people’s genitals unsexy? I think any appeals to intrinsic nature quickly get into essentialistic territory, because whatever is intrinsic or “human nature” is necessarily outside of the social, incapable of change, and I don’t think it does any good to insist that the domain of sexual preferences exists outside of the social and political realms.

Yes sex will be different with a trans person who hasn’t had full bottom surgery than it would be with a cis person, and yes you will need to have conversations about what feels good or look shit up online (which you would do with a cis partner anyway!), but unless you’re solely interested in like, missionary reproductive PIV cishet sex catholic style for the rest of your life, I think it’s worth interrogating why trans genitals are a hard no for someone, especially when “genital preference” is such a handy shorthand for cis people to articulate their deep seated rage, disgust, and fear of trans people in a “polite” or inoffensive way - and, often, in a violent way, and that violence is rationalised on the basis of the “common sense” belief that trans people trick cis people into having sex with us despite our “bad” genitals.

I don’t want to have sex with anybody who thinks my body is disgusting and I’m assuming most people don’t want that either lol. But a lot of cis people find my body disgusting because it’s a trans body, and a huge part of that disgust is because I don’t have a dick - worse, I have a “mutilated” “grotesque” version of “female anatomy” because of T. None of those evaluations of a tran’s guys genitals are intrinsic, nor do they exist outside of social values about what “normal” or “beautiful” bodies look like.

And again to use the fat example, it took a lot of personal work for me to properly admire fat people because of how ingrained fatphobia is, and part of that fatphobia was directed towards myself - it took years for me to find myself even remotely attractive, especially as I progressively gained weight into adulthood. And that is not for “activist” reasons, it’s not activism to find fat people hot - but I am consciously working through some of the shit society tells you is gross or bad about human bodies and it’s made my life better lol, and as a consequence I can fully allow myself to admire other fat people. I think any state of mind that allows you to find beauty in more places, find pleasure in a wider range of human forms, is generally a good thing. I once dated a guy who hated his nipples being touched because he thought it was gay to enjoy that, and like, sex with him sucked lmfao. he was incredibly homophobic and that homophobia directly impacted the amount of pleasure he was willing to engage with, both with himself and with a partner.

So yes I do think it’s transphobic. It’s not end-of-the-world transphobia, you’re not a permanently shit human being, but anyone who refuses to have sex with trans people on the basis of us having the “wrong” genitals is not worth pursuing because we deserve to sleep with people who find us hot and don’t need to “rationalise” away touching our genitals. I don’t want to have sex with those people and no trans person should either. But I’m not giving cis people an out with “oh it’s just a preference” because I think that’s a very lazy and unserious way of engaging with your own desires

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

And finally we’ve got the retolds with a twist! The ones where you’re utilizing your epic talent to revisit all the biggest Buddie moments from a slightly different angle that breathes new life into them! It’s so fun!!!

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖 (they’re friends! Buck’s bi! They’re gonna fall in love! How do I always forget about them dealing with covid before it comes back up in these stories?! Lol you’d think that one would be a bit harder to forget considering i actually went through it too but 🤷🏻‍♀️)

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨 (I’d apologize for how many emojis that is except YOU JUST SHOT EDDIE! WHILE HE AND BUCK ARE ENGAGED! Like was that really necessary? (yes it was i love the angst) Can’t wait to see how this plays out especially with them already having the will and “you’re not expendable” conversations! Perhaps they’ll be replaced with an elopement conversation….)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (i really love your shannon characterization! She’s such a real person and i love her! Also i just realized we’re approaching tsunami territory!!!! I have no idea how that’s gonna go down here but I can’t wait to find out!)

I hope you have fun answering all these and HAPPY PREMIERE WEEK!!! 22 million killer bees incoming!!!

- PCA <3

AWW thank you! You're literally always so kind and I want you to know it genuinely does mean a lot and is very validating.

48 for 📖 (omg I know covid is always SO ANNOYING to write around? I gotta do an au where it doesn't exist sometime):

---

His eyes begin to sting. Fuck. Fuck. He’s crying. 

“I’m just really glad you’re okay,” he blubbers. “I don’t know what I would’ve…”

He shuts his mouth. Stops himself. He barely manages to hold it all back. But he can’t finish his sentence. It feels far too much like a confession. 

I don’t know what I would have done if you died, because I love you, and I need you to always be okay. 

Eddie’s eyes widen a little. Even in their tired, droopy state, the realization in them is clear. He sees it. Fuck. Buck is screwed. 

“Uh,” Buck leans back in his chair, putting space between himself and Eddie. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Eddie rasps. “Buck…”

Buck stands. “Uh… I’m going to call Carla. Make sure our plans for tomorrow are still… Yeah.”

“Buck, wait a sec,” Eddie tries.

But Buck is already leaving. His hands are shaking. He doesn’t think he wants to be alone in the room with Eddie again. 

xx.

Buck makes sure Carla is with Chris when Ana brings Eddie home from the hospital. He leaves beforehand. Goes right to Maddie’s. He can’t be around Eddie right now. He doesn’t trust himself not to completely spill over. He feels badly about it, but it’s better this way. And he can’t burden Eddie with any of this right now. Not with the recovery ahead of him.

“Oh, Evan,” Maddie says when he tells her everything. “It’s okay that you got emotional. You care about him. He knows that. It doesn’t mean he knows how you feel outside of that.”

“I don’t think I can pretend anymore, Maddie,” Buck sniffs. “He almost died. He almost died and his girlfriend thanked me for stopping by. You were right. I need space.”

---

96 for 🚨( Lol two snippets of shooting angst in a row I'm so sorry):

---

Basically, Buck does his best to keep things together in this looping, daily hell. He must be doing an okay job of it, he thinks. No one says he’s falling apart, even if he feels like he is. 

iv.

Eddie’s first thought when he can think again, is that death feels heavy and sluggish. Sore. Not at all what’s promised. It takes him longer, and the slowly regained ability to hear the beeping of hospital machinery, to realize that he isn’t dead at all.

He survived.

Somehow, he survived. 

Well, not somehow. He doesn’t remember a lot, but he remembers one thing. Buck. It’s not by chance that he survived being shot down in the street. It was Buck. Buck saved him. Which makes Eddie realize. Oh god. Buck had to save him. After everything that’s happened to him…

Eddie tries to open his eyes. It’s not easy. Each eyelid feels weighed down and the lights are blinding. He makes a hoarse, uncomfortable noise in the back of his throat. The most he can manage at the moment.

When his vision clears - at least as much as his dry, stinging eyes will allow - he tilts his head a little to the side. The motion sends a ripple of pain across his right arm, concentrated most acutely in his shoulder. He ignores it, trying to get his bearings. 

Beside the bed Eddie is stuck in, is Buck. He’s slumped back in a stiff plastic hospital chair, fast asleep. His neck is craned at an awkward angle, head leaning against his shoulder. There’s a thin blanket over his torso, like someone gently placed it there, afraid to disturb him. A nurse, maybe? 

Buck’s forearm, opposite to the shoulder he’s leaning on, is outstretched onto Eddie’s bed. His hand rests inches away from Eddie’s. Like maybe he was holding it when he drifted off. With his uninjured arm,, Eddie stretches his wrist and fingers to brush against Buck’s hand. It hurts. It’s laborious. But he manages contact. 

Buck jolts a little, eyes flying open like he’s been shocked. Eddie watches, eyelids drooping a little, as the realization smacks Buck, full-force. 

“E-Eddie?” Buck stammers. 

“Hi,” Eddie manages to rasp. 

“Oh my god,” Buck cries, squeezing Eddie’s hand so much it hurts. “Oh god, Eddie. You’re awake.”

“Hardly,” Eddie mumbles.

Buck doubles forward, crying and pressing his lips to Eddie’s hand. 

“You’re awake. You’re really awake.”

“Didn’t die,” Eddie says. 

“No,” Buck runs a hand through his hair. Kisses his forehead. “You didn’t die. You’re alive. You’re going to be just fine.”

“M’okay?”

“You’re okay,” Buck promises. “You held on. You fought like hell.”

Eddie tries to smile. He’s not sure if he manages it.

“Couldn’t stand you up… For the wedding…”

Buck laughs a little wetly. “I love you so much. Fuck.”

“Saved me,” Eddie mutters, eyes fluttering shut. 

“I sure tried,” Buck whispers. 

Eddie means to tell Buck how much he loves him, too. How thankful he is. But his jaw feels too heavy. The effort feels like too much. 

“You go back to sleep,” Buck says softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up again.”

So Eddie lets himself be carried back under, knowing that he’s safe. Buck has him. He always has. 

🔹🔹🔹

When he wakes up again, it isn’t Buck he sees, but his father. Which throws him for a loop. For a moment, he’s sure he’s dreaming. 

“Dad?” He asks groggily.

“Hey-hey! Son! You’re awake!” Ramon exclaims happily. His eyes look a little wet.

“DAD?” He hears the sweetest voice in the world from the other side of the room. 

“Chris?” Eddie asks. He shifts to sit up, but winces in pain.

“One second,” Ramon says, reaching for the hospital bed’s controls. “Let me fix this.”

---

30 for 🔼 (THANK YOU! I'm trying to do her justice. And yesssss tsunami on the horizon):

---

Her hair is half brushed, her shirt might be on inside out, and she is nowhere near ready to leave. She’s going to make them late, for sure. 

“Hi,” she exhales when she throws the door open. “Sorry. Running behind.”

“Hey, no worries,” Buck says, shrugging. 

“How’s um…” Shannon blanks. God, her brain is all over the place today. “Your health?” 

Buck snorts. “The blood thinners? Terrible. Otherwise, I’m fine. That’s what’s frustrating.”

She frowns sympathetically. “Sorry, Buck. That really sucks.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs again. But this one feels more forced than the first. “Hey, where’s Chris?”

“Brushing his teeth,” Shannon says. And yeah, she’s aware of the time. “Like I said, we are running behind.” 

“Seriously, it’s fine,” Buck insists. “I’m just the chauffeur.”

Shannon smiles gratefully. “Thank you. Give me ten minutes?”

He nods. “Sounds good.”

[sighonaraa]

🌹🌹 I don’t know where the ask game is. But if you’re asking for roses, you get roses!!

(And if you were not asking that and I misread bc I am squinting at this half-asleep in my bed. Well, then, please feel free to ignore 😂😅)

i am absolutely always asking for roses THANK YOU MY LOVE!!!! here's a bit from far, far, far down the line in the sun is only a God if you learn to starve (thinking about. the amsterdam of it all):

They’re sitting in the fucking kebab restaurant, of all the stupid places to have any conversation much less this one, when Jamie abruptly puts his pita back on his plate and says, “D’you want something from me, Coach?” Roy pauses, half of a Doner kebab hanging out of his mouth, and says, “The fuck?” “D’you want something from me?” Jamie repeats. It sounds almost rehearsed, every word molded into shape, his hands tucked beneath the table. Like they’re at an interview. Like they’re at an interview in the middle of Roy’s fucking synagogue. It’s jarring, not least because it had all been going so well. Jamie’s been better, lately. Less of a ghost. “’Cause I’ll do it. I just want to know, in case.” “In case of what?” Roy says, afraid of the answer though he’s not sure why. Belatedly, he pulls the kebab out from between his teeth and sets it onto the plate. The buttery rub of spices feels suddenly viscous in his mouth: bloody, tacky. He can’t swallow it away. “I don’t want anything from you, except for you to finish your fucking pita. Hus will be insulted if you leave it like that.” Jamie doesn’t seem to care very much for Hus’s feelings on the matter. He’s single-minded, focused with a sort of intent that Roy rarely sees on him outside of the pitch. “You’ve been… nicer,” he says after a pause. Usually when Jamie talks he’s fidgety, constantly looking over the other person’s shoulder. But now he’s meeting Roy’s eyes directly, as if he’s daring him to attack. As if he knows it’s coming anyway and is getting ahead of it so that he can run. “Like, to me, you’ve been nicer. So I were wondering what’s the catch.” “There is no catch,” says Roy. It’s flimsy, but he’s on autopilot, mouth issuing statements before his heart can intervene. What he wants to say is: I’m being nice to you because you fucking deserve it, because you’re my player, because I love you and want you to be okay. What he says instead is, “Why the fuck are you asking me this, Jamie?” “Dunno,” Jamie says, evasively. “Just, usually there’s a catch.”