#rehabilitate left-wing ideas

[chlochette-sunde]

Let's talk about the Overton window

What is the Overton window?

It’s a sociological concept that represents the range of policies considered politically acceptable to the mainstream population at a given time.

This range can widen, narrow, or shift over time, depending on the political discourse presented to the public.

For example:

If a person of influence suddenly starts publicly endorsing far-right ideas, like suggesting the police should be allowed 'one really violent day, one rough hour,' then the notion of mass deportation of migrants may start to seem more acceptable, and the Overton window shifts to the right.

If multiple influential people begin calling for mass deportations, the Overton window shifts further in that direction.

If influential voices stop discussing far-left ideas, such as anti-colonialism, then the Overton window broadens in a way that pushes topics like health coverage for immigrant populations to the ‘far-left’ and thus to the margins of acceptability.

According to this concept, if you want socialism to be heard again, you first need the more radical leftist voices—anarchists, anti-colonialists, communists, and others—to speak up loudly. These voices help stretch the boundaries of the window and make more moderate leftist ideas, like socialism, part of the mainstream conversation. From there, it’s crucial for all leftist ideas to be as vocal and visible as possible to continue shifting the window and expanding what is seen as acceptable.

The concept explained in other words:

[revelboo]

Just dropping by to compliment your writing. Seriously, at this point your posts have basically adopted me. I LOVE everything you write! (Especially because you It made me obsessed with transformers again.) .... anyway, kisses from a Brazilian 😈😘😔💗👍👍

Aww! Thank you so much!

I felt bad and went ahead to type up the second half. The tags you guys add when you reblogged the last bit were making me feel a bit guilty.

Everything is Alright Pt 32

Starscream x Reader-guardian

• Hidden among the clouds, he circles. Can’t make himself leave you there alone, tethered to his own worries. To you. Still watching over you, because you’re so small down there standing right where he left you. Like you’re waiting on him to come back for you. Finally, you begin to walk. But you keep looking up, looking for him and it hurts more than he’d thought it would. Breaks him wide open as he wonders what you’re thinking. That he doesn’t want you anymore? That you’re not needed? He knows that feeling all too well. Hates it.

• You have no idea how far it is to town walking, but you’re already soaking wet and cold. Moving at least might keep you warm since you’re still in that stupid, thin dress. He’s not coming back. You weren’t sure what was going to become of you with him, but just being let go? Maybe to him it’s been like rehabilitating a wild animal and he’d finally decided you could be released back into the wild. Maybe he just really had gotten bored with you. Those maybes are driving you crazy. Because you’re hurt that he just threw you away.

• Because you cared about him. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you shudder as lightning crackles across the sky, the wind whipping your soaking hair across your cheek in little, stinging lashes. When exactly had it stopped being a game you were playing to survive? Agreeing with him, pretending interest in his day at first, but when had you genuinely started to care? The same time you’d started smiling when he returned from his duties, because you were really happy to see him and being greeted made him happy. Made his wings lift up higher at being acknowledged. Making him happy had made you happy.

• There’s a truck approaching on the road below as he rolls through the clouds, condensation slicking him. Too high above to hear what’s said when that truck slows beside you. When you turn. Tension winding him tight when you don’t keep walking, but pull open the door and get in. Someone you know? Someone looking for you? To take you home? A friend or something else to you? It doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t care, but he does.

• Shivering, you reach to angle the vents on the passenger side more directly on you as the driver cranks the heat. He’s older than you, old enough to be your dad and he’s frowning at you. Not buying that you’re okay. “Everyone thinks you’re dead. It’s been a month,” he says, tone clearly saying that he knows you haven’t just been wandering through the woods that long. That lie isn’t going to work. Apparently you’re famous in town, your face on missing persons flyers and they’d even swept the woods and had divers checking the small lake for your body.

• “I’m okay.” You’re not, but you just want to go home. Not to the police station or the hospital. Home. Your empty home. That fact has never bothered you before, but now it does. There’s no one waiting there, no one to talk to. He’s frowning at you, but he agrees to drive you home after making a call to the police, making you let them know you’re alive and found. Making you agree to go in tomorrow to explain what happened. Where you were. You don’t even have the energy to think up a lie right then.

• The guy even walks you up the drive and watches as you root around in the dirt of a very dead hanging basket of what had been impatiens a month ago to find the spare key and let yourself in. Only then does he relent and leave. You never think to ask his name, too numb and oddly empty. Around you the house is achingly silent.

• The intruder leaves and he still circles. No other vehicles. Does that mean you’re alone? No. How could you be? He transforms and lands a safe distance away, keeping low as the lights come on in the house, watching your shadow pass the windows as a dark smudge. And eventually the lights go back out. No one coming for you, because there is no one. His spark aches. He doesn’t mean to stay all night, but he can’t leave you there alone. Unwanted.

• Even if you believe he’s abandoned you, he can watch over you. Knows it’s not safe for you, but can’t make himself go. If he keeps returning here it’ll be noticed and questioned. You’ll still be in danger because of him. He knows this. And he still can’t force himself to leave you, because he is selfish. You don’t need him. But he does need you.

• Wrapping your robe around yourself as you head into the kitchen to get some coffee going, you stop short as the house creaks on its foundation. Eyes lifting to see something blocking the window. Familiar colors. Chest tight, you head outside and stare up at Starscream. He’s leaning against the house, wings drooping and optics shuttered in recharge. Like he’d spent all night outside watching over you. “You big idiot,” you sigh affectionately, your eyes burning as you reach out to touch the back of his huge hand. He hadn’t left you.

Previous Next

[lewmagoo]

I love the idea of the blurbs, Leah! What do you think about Rhett + "You’re the best decision I’ve ever made" (fluff)? ❤️

rhett never really paid attention to the calendar that was on the fridge in the kitchen. it had been a fixture there since you’d moved in together, and over time, his brain sort of tuned it out, and he never stopped to observe the notes and reminders you wrote upon it. but for whatever reason, on this morning in particular, he paused to look at the calendar when he went to grab his lunch box out of the fridge.

today’s date was significant. when he saw the number circled in blue ink, he knew. you’d marked the one year anniversary of the day you left wabang together. a pivotal moment in rhett’s life. the day he finally gained the courage to spread his wings and find himself outside of his family. in just one year, so much had changed. he worked at a horse rehabilitation center, and he enjoyed going to work every day. he lived in a safe, comfortable environment that he looked forward to coming home to every evening. and most importantly, he had you.

you were everything. his biggest cheerleader. his anchor. his soulmate. you were patient and understanding as he navigated those first few months of life away from his family. it was difficult for him, because he struggled to rid himself of the guilt he felt for leaving. he knew it was the right decision, the necessary decision, but it broke him to say goodbye to his young niece, amy. her tearful eyes as he kissed her on the head never left his mind. yes, he could visit her and the rest of the family any time he wanted, but it was still hard to leave.

but he had made it through those first few months, and after that, the healing process began. you held his hand through it all. supporting him in everything that he did. encouraging him to take a leap of faith and apply at that rehabilitation center. buying him a congratulatory cake when he got the job. telling him you were so proud of him. he wasn’t sure how he got so lucky to be blessed by someone like you, but he was deeply grateful.

“mornin’, handsome,” your voice carried across the kitchen, pulling him from his reverie. his chest warmed at the sight of you, sleepy-eyed, still in your pajamas. you were smiling at him. and you were so beautiful. suddenly, he was overcome, and his eyes grew misty as a wave of tears came forth. concern creased upon your brow as you noticed this. “hey, what’s wrong?” you asked as you approached him, already reaching out to tilt his face toward you.

he shook his head, bottom lip quivering. “i…uh, i just noticed it’s been a year since we left wabang,” he managed to speak. “and i was just thinkin’…” god, he could hardly get the words out. he reached for you, hands resting gently upon your hips. “i’m so glad we did. it was the best decision i ever made. you’re the best decision i’ve ever made.” because without you, he wouldn’t have made it.

your own eyes grew soft with emotion, and you leaned in to kiss him sweetly. “oh, rhett. i’m glad we left, too. i’ve never seen you so happy. it does my heart good.” you hummed as he bent his head so that he could rest his forehead against yours.

“i’m a better man, because of you,” he confessed.

“we bring out the best in each other,” you echoed. another kissed pressed to his lips. “i love you, cowboy.”

with a smile, he nuzzled his nose against yours. “love y’ more.”

[hussyknee]

International news outlets are predictably parroting whatever they see the government-run news media propagandizing, so the foreign commentators who have never met a Sri Lankan even by accident are announcing that we have elected a Marxist leader. We have not. It's a coalition of mild social democrats lmao. Even the main JVP entity hasn't really been Marxist in decades. It's all neoliberal hysteria.

Here's some necessary context for what's going on, and by far the best summation of the situation as it stands. I've highlighted the parts that the leftists of other countries will probably find salient and deeply relatable lmao.

It was always going to come to this. The first Sri Lankan election in generations where even a remotely leftist party stood a chance of winning was always going to end with an almighty Red Scare. So it is that the presidential campaign of National People’s Power (NPP) candidate Anura Kumara Dissanayake (AKD) is inspiring lurid visions of an impending violent, dystopian regime, splayed across news and social media. This is the prophecy of the Sri Lankan elite establishment, a select cross section of the country’s businesspeople, policymakers, professionals, journalists and academics who have been proximate to state power, especially in the last two years. Scrutiny of them and their crescendoing hysteria reveals much about how power and privilege work in Sri Lanka, and what happens when their wielders are threatened. Mythmaking

The pre-election Red Scare is the culmination of a two-year-long project by the elite establishment to sustain the regime of Ranil Wickremesinghe. This project is founded on a number of myths which rewrite recent history, chief among them the idea that the Aragalaya suddenly turned violent due to its ‘infiltration’ by the NPP’s lynchpin party the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) and other leftists. This myth, just like the one that Wickremesinghe stepped in to become Prime Minister then President “when no one else would”, only serves the elite establishment’s attempts to justify and sanitise Wickremesinghe’s power-hungry scheming.

Wickremesinghe was the only person shameless enough to accept Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s offer to become Prime Minister without any conditions. Likewise, the question of violence only became a problem after Wickremesinghe used the Aragalaya to manoeuvre himself to the Presidency. As always for elites, the spectre of left-wing violence is more serious than actual right-wing violence. Thus, NPP politicians standing on the banks of the Diyawanna is apparently far more alarming than the security forces ruthlessly dismantling GotaGoGama and brutalising its inhabitants on the very same day Wickremesinghe was selected as President by Parliament.

In the mythologisation of Wickremesinghe, we are further meant to forget that he has presided over a striking series of rights violations and undemocratic measures. Recounted partially and briefly: arbitrarily detaining multiple Aragalaya activists; violently repressing numerous protests by student and trade unions; passing the Bureau of Rehabilitation Act and Online Safety Act; deliberately preventing scheduled local authorities elections; continuing to obstruct memorialisation events by Tamils; and the ongoing Sinhala colonisation of the north and east.

As Wickremesinghe completed his transformation from supposed champion of liberal democracy to illiberal autocrat, establishment elites, especially the self-styled liberals among them, found themselves tongue tied about these issues for more than two years. If Ranil Wickremesinghe violates a human right, does a Sri Lankan liberal make a sound? ‘Stability’ and ‘Recovery’

It is not that these establishment elites merely promote Wickremesinghe’s government; it’s that they have been deeply and intimately involved in crafting and enforcing its policies, whilst often passing themselves off as impartial commentators. This particularly pertains to the Government’s economic agenda, and the idea that it has created ‘stability’ and rescued the country from the abyss to lead it to ‘recovery’. From the start, ‘stability’ and ‘recovery’ have been built on the backs of working class and poor Sri Lankans, who have literally paid for it with increased taxes, deteriorating public services and severely slashed welfare under the extravaganza of austerity mandated by the IMF.

The elite establishment’s espousal of this ‘stability’ and ‘recovery’ turns on a rabid, evangelical belief in neoliberal economic ideology. This tethers the unconditional acceptance of the IMF and its dictates, with any deviation from them held as ruinous. Similarly, neoliberalism manifests as identity through a strict belief that all wealth and success within a capitalist economy is gained through personal virtue (discounting inheritance, aid or luck), and inversely, anyone who is unsuccessful must be lazy and stupid. Such thinking is an apt glaze for the naturally patrician worldview of most establishment elites’ social class.

As a result, establishment elites are indignant that working and poor Sri Lankans are not grateful enough for the ‘recovery’. In truth, the only real inconveniences they suffered were the fuel shortages and power cuts of 2022. So, they cannot and do not genuinely contend with suffering of many over the past two years—including the still unbearable cost of living, rising child malnutrition, falling school attendance and millions still disconnected from electricity to name but a few ongoing calamities. Consequently, working and poor Sri Lankans must be too stupid to understand the ‘recovery’, the necessity of the IMF’s ‘bitter medicine’ forced upon them and to even vote. In the same breath, of course, these elites ignore and obscure the fact that corporates and the wealthy—which is often to say they themselves—are spared any similar medicine, and get to freely evade taxes, enjoy generous state subsidies and concessions and hoard their wealth offshore.

Contours of a Scare

All this exposes such deep contempt by establishment elites for working and poor people. This is what fuels their wholesale disgust at anyone voting against Wickremesinghe, or not even settling for the Samagi Jana Balawegaya’s Sajith Premadasa (to the great dismay of many elites, the two could not set aside their blood feud and combine forces). Buried within this is a deep fear of a political reality they do not know and cannot control. Thus, the maniacal scaremongering about how democracy would be subverted by an AKD regime due to the internal intricacies of communist parties—as if the JVP and particularly the NPP qualified as such. (And as if Premadasa and the SJB, and especially the unelected, election-cancelling Wickremesinghe, were paragons of democracy.)

The Red Scare is also founded on bringing up the JVP’s violence during the two insurrections it led, particularly the second. Certainly, there needs to be a complete accounting for the horrendous violence the JVP instigated, which the JVP has failed to do itself. But it cannot be done in any honest sense by the elites who ignore or deny that the UNP government and its death squads (under Premadasa’s father) killed and disappeared far greater numbers of people than the JVP (by estimates of three to up to ten times as many), or that Wickremesinghe oversaw an actual torture camp.

In addition to these many hypocrisies, the Red Scare is also founded on the elite establishment’s striking political illiteracy. Words like ‘Marxism’, ‘socialism’ and ‘communism’ are thrown about with wild abandon without any serious evaluation of them against the NPP. Elites regularly conflate the JVP and Frontline Socialist Party, despite them actually being mortal enemies; and believe all trade unions are controlled in hivemind-fashion by the JVP, despite the wide range of trade union political allegiances. Acknowledging spiralling social deprivation in the country is “cosplaying poverty” and any critique of the government’s economic agenda and neoliberal dogma in general inspires a virulent derision for “commies”, in dizzying, barely-coherent invective and memes imported straight from the US and the gutters of far right social media. These ignorant, imbecilic displays would be amusing if they weren’t being bandied about by actual adult journalists, lecturers and professionals, speaking to the country’s depressing level of intellectual discourse. The Endgame

The real irony here is that the NPP does not warrant any of the elite establishment’s hysteria. Certainly, it stakes out an actual difference with the existing political hegemony by physically embodying change. AKD, just like his government in waiting, promise a halt to the endless game of musical chairs that characterises government-making in Sri Lanka. This contrasts with Premadasa and Wickremesinghe’s politics which evince more of the same, in the latter’s case even more nakedly and shamelessly with the most corrupt and criminal figures on offer. (This, too, is another inconvenient fact shrugged off by establishment elites as necessary realpolitik.)

Of course, many of those prospectively voting for the NPP to “give them a chance” reveal the Sri Lankan predilection to go with the ‘rella’ or wave. But embedded in there, too, is the idea that this chance is being given in desperation, against a political system which has brought them nothing but economic ruin. That system could not be characterised more effectively than by Wickremesinghe himself, who makes little attempt to hide his disdain for ordinary people.

Yet it’s easy to overstate such change. In substance, even a cursory glance at the NPP’s manifesto reveals not a plan to usher in full-throated communism but a milquetoast, deliberately vague social democratic program. Most tellingly, it promises to maintain the country’s economic settings, including the current IMF program, as well as its deeply majoritarian state structure. The establishment should in fact be thrilled that the supposed biggest threat to its existence accepts the very core tenets of its modus operandi.

What this also means is that if and when any substantive change fails to materialise for many people—particularly in living conditions, as will certainly be the case under continued adherence to the IMF program—any NPP government risks spectacular collapse. That will leave ample space for any new, reactionary force to step in, including Wickremesinghe who will be waiting, cockroach-like, or another dispiriting shuffling of the current deck. In such a scenario, the elite establishment could find multiple avenues to attach their hooks to, for they are nothing if not the most talented grifters.

This election is unlikely to spell a definitive end to the political establishment or the deranged elites who uphold it. But for anyone sickened by the elite establishment’s hypocrisy and degeneracy, one night of them losing their collective minds over the Red Scare they have convinced themselves can only be a fleeting, pleasurable treat.

[blitzor0de0]

The jealous St Peter prompt caught my eye. Especially the idea of him wrapping his wings around redeemed!reader, so I have a suggestion, instead of jealous St Peter, how about protective St Peter?

Maybe Lute confronts redeemed!reader and it gets ugly? The confrontation possible brings up redeemed!reader's pstd, maybe even making them think they were going to be killed again, only for St Peter to appear with Sera/Emily, and he just wraps his wings around them, blocking out the chaos around them, comforting them with soft words and kisses.

I have no excuse for not putting this out sooner I've just been refixating on obey me </3 but this was rlly fun to write despite writers block eating my ass

listened to way too much blur and gorillaz doing this

cw: ptsd, fluffy, I forgot how to write mid way through, reader is always going through it aren't they, biblical Peter, reader confesses finally, kiss!!! Emily cucking lowkey

word count: 1.5k

part 1 part 2 part 3

Safe & Sound (Saint Peter x Redeemed!Reader)

You were just minding your business, you swear you were! Delivering a parcel to Emily. But it wasn't supposed to go like this??

Backed into a wall in the Plaza, the package clutched to your chest. Your mind was swirling with emotions as your heartbeat rapidly increased, finding it harder to breathe.

Former lieutenant of the exorcists, highly feared amongst sinners, yet highly respected amongst the blind sighted angels. You had already known Heaven was a lie at that first meeting, seeing how all the higher ups hadn't a clue about the exorcisms down in Hell. If angels could fall regardless of their ‘sin’ why wouldn't a sinner be able to redeem themselves?

The logic of Adam and Lute was incredibly flawed, and since yours and Pentious’ arrival in Heaven, you had felt a murderous gaze upon you each time you left your home.

It wasn't difficult to tell it was Lute, but since Adam's death you could tell she was a little lonely despite trying to avoid her gaze at every chance you got. She was always quite outspoken in the few times you met her, but the quietness of the Plaza, and Heaven in general after Adam's death.. The silence was borderline deafening.

But today, Lute must've decided enough was enough, if she couldn't kill you, she would gladly find a way to send you back to Hell.

“You filthy scum.” She scowled, venom lacing her words. She wasn't secretive about this confrontation either, causing a small crowd to quickly appear around the two of you, mimicking a petty school fight.

But this wasn't a fight, it was a one sided dispute.

You couldn't bear to face Lute, her mask being too much of a trigger to stare at for too long, especially in a situation such as this. You opted for clenching your eyes shut, but this only infuriated the angel more.

“I have lost EVERYTHING because of you sinners… Adam. My job. My subordinates. My fucking arm. How did you do it, huh? You and that snake you both made it up here. What sort of magic did Lucifer pull, huh?”

You felt your mind spin, knees going weak as you fought to keep yourself upright, lip quivering as tears threatened to spill as you gained the courage to speak.

“..He didn't do anything. It was just as Charlie told you all… It's just rehabilitation, Sir Pentious sacrificed himself for us all, I just wanted to better my soul..” God you were about to cry, your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Bullshit.” Before Lute could threaten you further, some gasps and whispers emerged from the audience. You dared open your eyes, peering behind the Executioner to see the commotion, only to be faced with the two Serafim parting the crowd.

You gasped, causing Lute to finally turn around. With Adam gone, Lute didn't really get a ‘get out of jail free’ card, so the growing look of fear upon her features was evident.

Sera was quick to whisk Lute away as Emily held your arms gently as all you could do was crumble to the ground, tears finally being free to fall.

You couldn't exactly understand all what Emily was saying, everything seemed like ringing in your ears, but you appreciated Emily's attempt to ground you.

“Oh, Peter there you are!” Emily gasped, turning to face the angel who had a worried expression upon his face.

The ever so smiley angel for once held a look of disgust towards the crowd still whispering and murmuring about your fragile state.

“I got here as soon as I could.. Are they okay??” He seemed panicked, he'd never been in a situation like this, especially with someone he cared so much for. He couldn't think straight.

“I'm not sure..” The Serafim replied, “They haven't responded to me once, I'm not even sure if they can hear me at all.. You two are..” She hesitated, “close, you should deal with them, I'll see what I can do about the crowd..” She frowned, rubbing Peter’s shoulder comfortingly before grabbing the parcel and approaching the crowd.

Peter on the other hand unveiled his wings without a second thought, shielding you from the looks and whispers. Giving you a little bit of privacy was the least he could do right now.

“Hey.” He spoke softly, almost in a cooing manner, caressing your face as if you were made of porcelain.

In a room of a thousand people, you would be able to recognise every aspect of Peter’s being. His voice, his scent, his touch.. Everything. With the delicate caress upon your cheek, you'd be foolish to not know who it was, even in such a fragile state.

Still, you couldn't bear to look up at him. Though he had seen you in such a state before, your consciousness of the situation as opposed to your exhaustion from the previous time weighed on your shoulders.

To acknowledge his presence, you simply leaned into his touch. Your ears were still ringing, probably for the better since the whispers and chatter amongst the slowly dispersing crowd weren't doing you any favours.

Peter gently lifted your head up to face him, a soft, yet pained smile upon his face. You wanted to look away so desperately, but the way he looked at you so tenderly, you couldn't stand to pull your gaze away. A shaky “I'm sorry..” left your lips before you could realise it.

Peter gained a small sense of déjà vu from that, you always did seem to apologise for things that weren't even remotely your fault.

“Don't be silly. It's not your fault. You're safe now..Okay?” You nodded slowly, taking his words in. “Lute’s being dealt with by Sera and,” He glanced behind him “everyone else is more or less gone. You wanna stay here or move somewhere else?” Just at the thought of moving, an ache spread through your legs, the weakness growing once again.

“Here please.” You replied, reaching up to turn Peter's face towards yours, you needed his attention, his gaze, his essence. He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your nose.

“I thought she was going to kill me..” You murmured, finally regaining some stability. “I.. I couldn't do it all over again.. I didn't exactly think there was an afterlife in the first place.. let alone the possibility of dying twice.. I don't think God would approve of me dying a third time.. right?”

Peter grew silent, what could he possibly say to that. To be frank, when he was alive, he had a tumultuous relationship with his belief. Of course he believed in Jesus’ word, but he was also one of the first to betray him. Being disowned from Heaven before he had even passed. How he managed to get up there and still be held in such high regards by the Lord still surprised him centuries later.

Noticing his prolonged silence your eyes widened slightly, “That was a joke, I swear.. Peter..?”

Shaking his head he snapped out of his thoughts, “Oh! Of course it was, right!.. Either way, I think I'd be able to convince God to keep you around, I am an esteemed patron saint after all!” He winked.

After such a traumatic experience, you had cracked your first smile of the day which only caused Peter to mirror a smile right back at you.

“I feel like I'm always thanking you for looking out for me. You're so pure of heart, it's no wonder I fell for you-” You paused, realising what you said.

You and Peter had shared many intimate moments together, kissed on many occasions and even slept in the same bed together but you two had never established any actual feelings or relationship, until now it seems.

You panicked “Wait Pe-”

“I love you too.” He cut you off, stars in his eyes. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as he finally confessed.

Oh.

Your shoulders relaxed as you breathed a sigh of relief. “Cool.. Wait! No! Erm I love you, oh I'm such a mess just kiss me.”

With a laugh, Peter gladly obliged, pressing a small teasing kiss to your lips before indulging in all his sins with an intimate kiss.

You wanted to savour this moment forever, Peter's hands cupped your cheeks as he pulled you impossibly close, the scent of his lightly floral cologne infiltrating your senses, quickly changing from intimacy to desperation — fearing as if this kiss may be your last.

Neither of you wanted to part, continuously pulling away for a split second before either one of you pulled the other in for ‘just one more’.

Though, the unfortunate parting would come from an awkward throat clear from the younger serafim.

“Um..Guys.. Super! Happy for you two but.. You're still in public..” Emily smiled down at the two of you.

Flushed and breathless, the two of you blinked up towards her before her words finally dawned on you.

“Oh.. Oh my, Emily I'm so sorry. Um!! Peter let's go!” You rushed to stand, pulling Peter up with you who’s uniform looked a little dishevelled, bowtie lopsided as well as some hair stuck to his forehead. He was both literally and figuratively on Cloud 9.

Emily could only giggle at the sight of Peter, “I'm glad you're feeling better, have fun you two lovebirds.” She called out as you and your now boyfriendddddd departed.

[luciferlightbringer]

Talk to Me

Chapter 3

Lucifer x Fem Fallen Angel Reader Word Count: 3.5k CW: Angst, trauma, swearing, slow burn, enemies to lovers(ish?), mistrust, lies, curiousity

Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4 (Updated through Chapter 5)

Before long, it was time for Lucifer to teleport back home for the night. He hugged his daughter and Vaggie goodbye, and gave a quick glare to Alastor before teleporting back home in his usual swirl of red smoke.

Once he was home he flopped on the bed and let out a long sigh. Lucifer was happy to be rebuilding his relationship with Charlie, the awkwardness of their reunion a few weeks ago had been slowly melting away, and he was really feeling like they were starting to get to know each other again. He just wished it was not on the brink of a war with Adam and his exorcists.

He had worried that Heaven would try retaliate at Charlie’s rehabilitation idea like they had with his many many years ago… but not like this. He felt the anxiety and frustrations start to rise in his body. Feelings of wishing she had just listened to him and not tried to push things with Heaven… but it was no use. He knew she was right. Things needed to change but he had just been too scared to fight, Heaven had beaten the passion out of him, leaving him with the fear of losing more. But, somehow, Charlie had been reigniting that spark in him. It was beautiful and utterly terrifying.

This upcoming battle put a new stressor on him that replaced the old stressor of how much he had missed his daughter, which somehow felt easier to manage, but in many other ways left him struggling within his mind in new ways. For so long he had be plagued by his past, watching sinners abuse the gift of free will he had given them, the separation of him from Lilith over the past seven years, the estrangement of his own daughter for what felt like most of her live. It left him dazed and disconnected from the world in general. Had left him with a growing void between himself, his kingdom, and the sinners he ruled. Sinners that he was ashamed to admit he despised at times. Having Charlie in his life again made it a little more tolerable, but if this upcoming battle did not pan out well, he was running the risk of losing her and everyone else for good, which would send him even deeper into the pit of his own mind.

But, in a way, that was another small new blessing in his life though, finding others to care about. Sinners even. He had been working on getting to know the other residents and staff at the hotel, and he enjoyed… most of them. He had been worried about that pornstar, Angel, trying to get up on his daughter, but he didn’t seem to do anything outside of a few pet-names for her, and him for that matter. Lucifer had also noticed Angel put a lot of their focus on Husk, the bartender. Lucifer crackled a small smile, he liked Husk, he was a no nonsense kinda guy but seemed to have a good heart, and a soft spot for others at the hotel. Sir Pentious was… interesting, an intelligent fool, which he could relate to. Niffty was… well she was good at cleaning, and a little terrifying. And Alastor… ugh, he couldn’t stand the guy, he clenched his fists at the thought of him. Lucifer knew that guy was up to something, and was not fond of how close his daughter had gotten to him… but he had to admit that he had been a big support to Charlie. He just knew that his actions were not selfless and it was all a fun little game for grabbing power.

Lucifer shook his head, he needed to be careful, he could get heated and obsess over his distain for Alastor if he was not careful. But the resident he was most curious about, was his daughter’s girlfriend, Vaggie. A fallen angel. It was odd because their falls had both been very different, his a physical fall from Heaven, her’s in an instance on the grounds of Hell themself, her status torn from her in a moment. But the mental pain of it all still the same. To have her wings torn off by those monsters, Adam and Lute, disgusting how they can be in the highest ranks of Heaven while people like her suffer, for sparing a fucking child!

Lucifer took another breath to slow down his thought process. That was a topic he needed to be careful about, his fall. That was a panic attack waiting to happen, a trauma he could never full process, even with Lilith even though she also fell with him. He pushed those thoughts away, as he always did, and decided it was probably time to get ready for bed. He went to go wash his face and change into pajamas.

His thoughts drift back to the hotel, then to what Charlie had mentioned about you, the newest addition to the hotel. His heart hurt to hear you had barely just arrived in Hell before getting attacked by other sinners so brutally. He had been curious about you, but understood that you might need some time to acclimate to Hell. He was just glad that you had found the hotel so soon after getting here. What sort of soul would be so keen on redemption soon after arriving in Hell? He tried hard not to immediately jump to thoughts of suspicion. All he knew is what Charlie told him, that you arrived sounding scared and hurt, and he hated that. He hating that he had created a realm that did that to people. He sighed, whenever you were ready to meet him, he wanted to do something nice to welcome you. He didn’t know what, but he would figure it out. For now, it was bed time.

——————————————————————

The next day, you were awoken by a knock on your door. You stretched and hobbled your way over to the door and opened it to find Charlie.

“Evening! How are you feeling?” She asked with a perky smile.

You cocked an eyebrow and yawned “A little better. Oh, is it dinner time?”

“Yes… but like… of the next day… it’s been over 24 hours since I last saw you… I left notes but you didn’t come out. I just wanted to make sure you were ok,” Charlie gave you an anxious grin.

Your eyes went wide, “24 hours?!” You looked at the ground and saw the few notes on the floor, “Oh Heav- I mean… Hells! Charlie, I’m sorry, I was asleep that whole time.”

Charlie laughed and swatted a hand “Oh gosh, it’s no trouble. If that’s all it was I’m just glad you were resting and healing, that’s all. I didn’t want you to miss out on eating so I just thought I would knock this time. Are you hungry?”

You were about to answer when your stomach did with a loud gurgle that was loud enough for both of you to hear. You both looked at your stomach, then at each other, then laughed.

“Is it uhh… is it ok if I eat in here though? I’m… still not ready to be out with others,” you asked sheepishly.

“Of course! We are having the last big rally before the battle downstairs so, it would probably be a bit overwhelming out there anyway. Let me go get you some food,” Charlie closed your door and ran down to the kitchen to grab you some of the food. You hated to admit it, but you were growing more tolerant of Charlie, possibly even enjoy her, though parts of your brain still worked to warn you about her. She seemed really genuine, and she couldn’t help but remind you of Emily. She seemed like someone who wanted to care for people and make them feel happy and safe.

Charlie came back with a bowl of soup and some bread, “Here we are!” She handed you your food.

“Thanks!” You said, taking the bowl and plate from her and going inside your room to set it down on a small table.

“Hey so… the extermination is tomorrow… will you have your place set up for you to be safe at during that time? If you don’t have a place, I always have my dad…”

“No! No, please, I have it taken care of, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, I have a place to go. I’ll… probably just eat this, get some more sleep and be out of here early before the angels come. Ok?”

Charlie nodded, “Ok, if you aren’t up by like 8 am, I’ll come kick you out.” She gave you a wink, “Stay safe, ok?” then closed the door.

You let your curated smile deflate as you started to eat alone in your room. You didn’t realize you had put on a mask for her until she left. You couldn’t deny how much you were still working to keep up appearances around her, how much you fought with the idea of trusting her. On the other hand, you lied to her, about several different things, and that definitely did not make you feel good. Most currently, on the full belief that you had a place to stay during the extermination. You were hoping that Claire would let you hide in the Embassy, but that’s only if it is even open that day. It was all a gamble.

The next morning you woke up early and snuck out of the hotel and down to the Embassy, where one again you found Claire sweeping. She looked up to see you enter and smiled.

“Well good morning! You are looking a bit better I see, didn’t expect to see you back so soon. You doing ok at the hotel?” Claire asked as she continued to sweep.

“Uhh… ya! It’s been just fine. I’ve been asleep most of my time there. Got some actual wraps for my broken bones that have helped a lot. But, I’m here because… well…” you took a moment to collect your thoughts “The Princess’ hotel has gained the negative attention of Heaven it seems… and I am in no place to fight… so I need to hide… can I stay here? Please? I promise I won’t cause any trouble and you can kick me out at any moment if I do,” you pleaded. You hated having to beg to a hellborn, but Claire had already earned some amount of your respect and you were desperate. You knew she had probably already broken several rules when it came to you.

Claire looked around and smiled before whispering “If someone were to ask, you have a complaint and are personally coming to talk to me, got it?” She winked. You cracked a small smile, nodded, and winked back. Claire then led you back further into the Embassy, past elevators, meeting rooms, all empty, until you got to a small office with a sign that said “Clarisee Emberstone, Facilities Manager”. You were curious who else was here to even comment, but you knew Heaven had eyes everywhere. Claire opened the door and you both stepped in. It was small and cramped, full of tools, cleaning supplies, papers, a desk with a chair, and a small couch. Claire gestured for you to take a seat, and you did.

Claire sighed, ��It’s not much but-“

“No no! It’s perfect. Thank you…” you smiled at her. “Thank you for being so nice to me. How can I ever repay you?” You asked.

Claire shook her head, “Nothing, I want nothing from you. I just don’t want people to suffer more than they already do.” Claire thought for a moment, “Tell you what… if you can find a way to make the most of your time in hell, to make the lives of other sinner’s a little more tolerable so that they don’t get hurt in the way you have, that’s how you can repay me, ok?”

You blinked, and nodded. That made sense, you would have to think about that, but that was an idea. An idea that tugged and churned your stomach at the thought of helping sinners, but still a good one.

Claire smiled and nodded, “Now I must get back to my cleaning, I’ll come get you when the dust settles.” You nodded and Claire closed the door behind her, leaving you once again alone with your thoughts.

You sighed and lounged on the small couch, you were thankful for the well hidden room, but your mind still had plenty to leave it cloudy and worried.

Swirling emotions that still lacked names engulfed your thoughts and the pit of your stomach. It almost hurt. You understood the fear and worry, but not worry for yourself, worry about others. You were worried for Charlie and Vaggie, worried for the sinners that you had been in hotel with that you had yet to get to know, worried about the angels that came down for them, worried about Adam and Lute, worried about how Emily was feeling, but you also hated feeling worried about them. You felt like you were worried and hated that you worried about everyone. This felt like pure madness inside your head. Nothing made sense anymore and all you knew was confusion and fear. Is this how sinners always felt? Is this what it’s like to live through an extermination? Is this what Heaven was doing to people? At least you had a place to hide, how many others didn’t?

Your head ached, you tried to focus on your breathing. And then you started to feel it, the rumbles. The angels were here. You were helpless to do nothing besides desperately sense for any tremor, any sound or shift, though you didn’t know what any of them meant or how close they were. They didn’t feel like they ever got much closer to the building you were at, but they felt more powerful at times. An occasional beam of holy energy and you could still sense from all the way over where you were.

The biggest shock came from another holy blast, and a large earthquake that felt as if the ground was cracking apart, followed by a few quick shakes… and then.. stillness. It was so still and quiet that you could hear your own heartbeat, loud as a drum, your breathing quick.

There was a knock on the door, and you jumped. Claire opened the door and gave you a smile, “Relax, we are all clear.”

“All clear?”

“Ya… the angels are gone. Portal opened back up and they all high tailed it out of here,” Claire said “Come on I’ll show ya.”

You got up and followed Claire back out to the lobby, you looked out the window, and gasped. All you could see was the rubble and remains of the building you had been sleeping in hours before, along with patches of golden blood littered along the hillside. The blood of dead angels.

You got close to the window and look for any signs of movement. You had to really squint, but you were able to make out a few figures, one with long blonde hair and one with white. You sighed with relief, Charlie and Vaggie were ok. Your attention was then also caught by another individual that was flying around, with red and white wings… six of them?! You pressed your face against the glass to try to get a better look, did an angel survive?!

“You see him too? Pretty magnificent huh? He doesn’t come out in public much,” said Claire.

“Who? The angel?” You asked still looking out the window.

“Yes, Lucifer.”

You looked at Claire with shock and then back out to the seraphim outside, then put a finger to the glass in his direction.

“That? That seraphim is Lucifer? But I thought he was a demon?” You asked.

“Oh he is, he’s both, in a way. I don’t know his story super well but I just see the bits about him in magazines. Factly, from most of what I have seen of him, he looks more like an angel than a demon most of the time.”

You were mesmerized and drawn in by the slight of those wings, how he dipped and dived with them. You have never seen a seraphim with white and red wings, and you guys you never really connected the idea that he was a fallen seraphim until now.

You continued to stare out the window as the small image of him landed in the distance. You could not pick out any details about him other than the wings and a hat of some kind. You hated how much your curiosity continued to grow when it came to him. You were starting at hate a lot of things. Well hate was a strong word… feel conflicted was probably a better term.

You were about to start thinking about what you should do now that the hotel was destroyed, when you saw the distant angel soar back into the sky and start to zap the ground with magic. Soon the beginnings of a new building were starting to form. Was he rebuilding the hotel?!

That was exactly what he was doing, and with the help of the other hotel residents, it was not long before a brand new Hazbin Hotel stood atop the eastern hill of the Pentagram. Bigger and brighter than the last. You just stood and stared out the window as it formed, dazzled and enchanted by its creation.

Eventually, you felt ready to head back to the hotel. You thanked Claire and said goodbye before you made the journey back home. The streets of hell were filled with parties and debauchery, singing the praises of the King and his Princess for fighting of the “angel scum”. Normally a comment like that would make you mad, but now… it made sense. Their view of Heaven and angels made sense.

You made it back to the hotel, and found Charlie standing outside, marveling at her new hotel with Vaggie. You walked up behind them a ways.

“Room for one, please?” Charlie and Vaggie turned around at the sound of your voice, Charlie’s eyes started to water as she ran to you.

“(Y/fn)! You are ok!” She said, enveloping you in a tight hug, “I was so worried! I’m glad you are safe.” You smiled and hugged her back.

“I’m glad you guys are ok too. What all happened?”

Charlie and Vaggie went over the summary of the battle, the dome Alastor made, Adam being Adam, Sir Pentious, who was another resident you did not get to meet, was killed, Charlie’s guardian, Dazzle, being killed, then Lucifer showing up at the end to put a stop to Adam, but that it was Niffty that killed Adam.

You blinked, “Adam, the first man, is dead?” Charlie nodded. Some thing in your heart was both broke and soared hearing that, you grabbed your shoulder when you still felt the pain of your missing wing, and furrowed you brow.

“Good… that piece of shit had it coming…” Charlie and Vaggie were surprised by you words, so were you, “I mean… look at all this trouble he has caused! He sounded like a complete asshole!”

“Yes! He was!” Charlie proclaimed. You all laughed.

You looked around, “Your dad still here?”

Charlie shook her head, “No, he went home. Fighting and using as much creation magic as he did makes him tired very quickly. Look at all he made!” She said gesturing to the hotel.

“It really is marvelous, you’ll have sinners knocking door these doors to get in for sure!” You looked around. Something about this magic felt familiar someone, but you couldn’t quite pin how it felt familiar.

Charlie laughed, “I sure hope so!”

You looked over at her, it’s wild how much of a beacon of hope she was. You grabbed her hand and she looked at you with surprise.

“Charlie… thank you, for everything. How can I ever repay you for your kindness?”

Charlie smiled and held your hand back “Just do your best while you are here, for yourself and others. I still don’t have proof that rehabilitation actually works… but if it does, I want us all to support each other as best we can!”

That sounded very similar to what Claire had said earlier. You didn’t think it was possible to redeem sinners, but even if they couldn’t, you all can work to make Hell a better place. You smiled “I will Charlie, I’ll be the best that I can, and I’ll figure out what I can do you help others too. I’ll just need to time to figure out what that is…”

“It sounds like a great start” Vaggie added, “Now come on! It’s dinner time and Alastor is breaking in the new kitchen.” You followed Charlie and Vaggie inside, ready to fully start your new life inside the hotel.

______________________________________________________________

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[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Dr. Ludwig Guttman 

Dr. Ludwig Guttmann was a Jewish-German neurosurgeon who had the radical idea that patients with spinal cord injuries could be competitive athletes. He created the Paralympic Games and forever changed the way society views disabled people – and the way they view themselves.

Ludwig was born in Germany in 1899 to a religious family. At age 18, he volunteered in a hospital that treated mining workers. One day, a young man was admitted who had broken his back in a mining accident. The patient was paralyzed from the waist down, but the rest of his body was strong. Ludwig was shocked when the hospital staff told him there was nothing to be done for people with spinal cord injuries but wait for them to die. They wrapped this vigorous young man’s body in plaster and moved him to an isolation wing, where he developed sepsis and died five weeks later. “Although I saw many more victims suffering the same fate,” Ludwig said, “it was the picture of that young man which remained indelibly fixed in my memory.”

After attending medical school in Freiburg, Ludwig worked with Europe’s leading neurologist Dr. Otfrid Foerster. In 1928, Ludwig started a neurosurgical unit at a hospital in Hamburg, and by 1933 he was considered one of the top neurosurgeons in Germany. When the Nazis came to power Jews were banned from practicing medicine and Ludwig lost his job. In 1939 he left Germany with his family and moved to Oxford, England, where he worked as a researcher.

In 1943, Ludwig was asked by the British Government to direct a new Spinal Injury Centre at Stoke Mandeville Hospital. He agreed to take the job, but only if he was free to treat patients as he saw fit without any outside interference. Ludwig was determined to change the medical establishment’s defeatist attitude toward spinal cord injuries. He believed that patients could lead full, independent and happy lives. At Stoke Mandeville, Ludwig instituted educational programs so that patients could learn new skills to make them employable. These programs included carpentry, typing, and watch repair.

A crucial part of the Stoke Mandeville rehabilitation program was athletics. Since there was virtually no precedent for wheelchair sports, Ludwig and his staff had to make them up. The first sport was wheelchair polo using walking sticks and a puck, soon to be replaced with wheelchair basketball. The first athletic competition at Stoke Mandeville took place on July 28, 1948 – the same day as the London Olympics. Fourteen injured service people competed (12 men and 2 women) in one sport, archery. A trophy cup was awarded to the winner.

Only one year later, the competition had grown to include more hospitals, more participants, and more sports. Ludwig said, “I foresaw the time when this sports event would be truly international and the Stoke Mandeville Games would achieve world fame as the disabled person’s equivalent of the Olympic Games.” In 1952, a group of disabled Dutch veterans became the first competitors from overseas. By 1954, there were athletes from Canada, Australia, Finland, Egypt and Israel. In the late 1950’s, Ludwig reached out to the Olympic Games Committee to see if the Stoke Mandeville Games could be scheduled to coincide with the 1960 Olympics in Rome. The Olympic Committee agreed, and disabled athletes came to Rome from 21 countries, playing in the same facilities and sharing the same accommodations as the able-bodied athletes.

The games became known as the Paralympics. Ludwig died in 1980, but his dream continues to grow. The Paralympics now features over 4000 athletes competing in 28 sports.

For refusing to accept the status quo, and giving hope and inspiration to generations of disabled athletes, we honor Dr. Ludwig Guttmann as this week’s Thursday Hero at Accidental Talmudist.

[simpforpeterp]

lucifer morningstar x reader

CHIP ON MY SHOULDER

summary: based on the song with the same name from legally blonde the musical. the reader, an angel, driven by love, follows their partner into hell, only to face betrayal and mockery. they then encounter a mysterious and charismatic man who offers surprising insights and advice.

warnings: not necessarily a warning but gender neutral reader, no use of y/n. also the partner is gender neutral and described with they/them pronouns. use of the word pretty to describe reader.

word count: 1.03k

"How did it come to this? All I wanted was to be with them, to follow them, to be by their side. And now... I'm here." You mumble under your breath, kicking brimstone as you walk.

You walk over and sit on a broken bench, your wings are tattered and dirty. As you look up at the dark sky, you begin feeling the weight of your choices. Following someone you loved all the way down to Hell was stupid. You were blinded by how they made you feel, you followed them as they fell from Heaven despite being in good standing up there.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? An angel far from home?" A man steps out in front of you, stopping his walk.

"Look, man, whatever gross things you have to say about me being an angel, I've heard it all today. So just...forget it." You cross your arms.

"I wasn't gonna say anything gross. It's just...you- uh, look out of place. To say the very least," He tries and you finally look up to see him. He's not very tall, he's very pale but he has this nice blonde hair that keeps you looking at him. "May I sit down?"

"Go for it. It's not like I'm...high priestess of where people sit in Hell." You say tiredly.

"New here?" He asks.

"I guess. Not really. I'm not...I'm not one of you people, I'm not meant to be down here." You tell him.

"If you're in denial, that's fine but at least-"

"No, really! I didn't fall, I'm on a shitty visit," You insist. "And I know, I just said a bad word, whoop-dee-frickin'-doo."

"Why would you ever want to visit here?" He laughs.

"Love."

"What?" He turns his attention to you.

"I followed where love led me and it apparently brought me to my very own personal circle of Hell," You play with your fingers as you look ahead. "And I made a big show of it too, coming down here. Now I have to go home, hat in hand. I wish I were dead at this point."

"You've gotta be more specific, babe." He sighs.

"I came down here because my dumbass partner broke too many rules and started saying these crazy things! So, of course, I'm an idiot and I follow them down here. Instead of the tragic love story I thought I was gonna get, they go and make friends instantly and turn into a completely different person. And here I am, just someone they mock with their friends. I wanted a Greek tragedy and got...whatever the opposite is."

"Did you seriously come down here to follow 'love' of all things?" He laughs before clearing his throat and covering his mouth.

"Oh, what got you here?" You wave it off.

"I'm an angel too," He sighs and you immediately turn to face him. "I was an angel."

"But you look so different."

"I've been down here for a while."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I had this idea they didn't like about rehabilitating sinners to bring them to Heaven. I was young and I was dumb and instead of persisting and trying to convince them, I got mad and slept with a human. And then I did it again. But then I fell in love with the first human and we got sent here together. We're not together anymore, messy divorce. So I'm not a big fan of love. Love is what got me here, alone and unfulfilled. I loved her more than anything, she gave me my daughter. But this place changed her for the worst and she left both of us. I wouldn't trust love for anything."

"I'm sorry but that's highly negative. Just because you have some kind of chip on your shoulder about how love hasn't worked out for you in the past doesn't mean it can't in the future. And you didn't think you'd go down the same path as Lucifer after doing the same thing? They practically have street signs up there that say not to sleep with humans." You laugh.

"Do you even know what Lucifer looks like?" He smirks.

"No, they have no pictures up there. Why?" You laugh.

"Hold on, I've got a picture," He sighs as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out something you can't quite see fully. "This is one of him sitting with some weirdo on a bench."

Before you can fully process what he just said, he scoots the slightest bit closer, showing you a mirror with the two of you sitting together on full display.

"Oh my-" You choke, falling backwards and almost slipping off of the broken bench.

"You know, people down here aren't usually real with me because I'm King but this was a nice talk. A breath of fresh air," He smirks before standing up. "And just a warning, these people are really awful, I'm sure you haven't even met the worst of the worst. If I were you, I'd just go home and sacrifice your pride. Actually, no I wouldn't. But you probably should. That asshole who left you is an idiot; an angel as charming and steadfast as you should be cherished. This was fun."

"Wait!" You say as you lift yourself to stand beside him. "How did you...how did you get used to it down here? In case I don't feel like swallowing my pride."

"Love." He chuckles.

"Oh, you're an asshole," You point a finger at him before laughing. "I like you, Your Highness."

"Haven't heard that in a while. And drop the formalities, you've insulted me too much to not be on a first-name basis." He jokes.

"Alright, Lucifer," You say, a hint of a smile forming. "Thank you for your advice or lack thereof. I think I'll stay a while longer."

"One thing I will say is, that chip on your shoulder can be your greatest ally. Let it drive you to be stronger, and fiercer. In Hell, that's the only way to survive. Especially for an angel as resilient and honestly, as pretty as you are."

[sataniquepanique]

The Fallout

Angel Dust x Platonic!Soulmate Reader

WC: 2k+

Summary: You wake up in Hell, struggling with your choices made back on Earth. A spider-demon manages to crack through your tough exterior.

Warnings: talk of suic!de and self-harm, mention of drugs.

A/N: I've had a rough few months, and the Hellaverse has become a little light in my life. Angel (almost immediately?) became a comfort character for me, and I just wanted to write about him. This might turn into an Alastor x Reader fix because I've grown to love that weird little dude, but that's still up in the air. Reader is a crow-demon in this btw, and I tried to write them GN.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sighing softly, you carefully run fingers through the set of wings protruding from your back. In this light, the inky-black was iridescent; a feature that almost brought a smile to your face. There’s no way you’d get used to this any time soon.

It’d been a little over two weeks since you arrived in hell, a few days since you had shown up on the doorstep of the dilapidated hotel on the outskirts of Pentagram City. You had known ending up in Hell was a possibility, one that wasn’t ideal but overall a thought that hadn’t deterred you. The deed was done, and you’d now have to deal with the consequences. 

After roaming the streets for a few days, squatting in whatever abandoned building or sheltered alleyway you could find, a news segment caught your attention in the window of an electronics shop. The Hazbin Hotel: a place for sinners to be rehabilitated. The entire idea was ludicrous, but the overly-chipper blonde pitching the cause was adamant that they would provide accommodations for anyone interested, no questions asked. 

So that’s how you ended up here, standing in front of the floor length mirror in your new bedroom, completely avoiding the presence of any of the other fellow inhabitants of the hotel. 

Charlie (the even-more-cheery-in-person blonde from the TV) had tried to get you to join them in the lobby for the past few days for “exercises”, which basically included trust falls and other weird bonding techniques. You had ignored her pleas from beyond the other side of the bedroom door, pretending to be asleep. 

It’s not that you didn’t belong here, you probably did, it’s the permanence of it that was becoming debilitating; the solitude of it all. You were alone here.

You missed your family.

You missed your friends. 

The thought of their faces brought an onslaught of tears, obscuring the sight of your new demonic body in the mirror. 

You had fucked up. You definitely deserved to be here. 

After what you assumed was dinnertime, Charlie came back to your room and knocked softly.

“Hey!” She chimed gently from outside, “We’re all going to watch a movie in the lounge, figure I’d extend an invite! We’d love to have you—“

Another voice cut her off from down the hall, more stern but still with a gentle undertone. “Charlie, babe. Leave them alone, they just needs time to adjust.”

Vaggie. You had felt a weird draw to her the moment the hotel doors had opened. She had seemed to understand better than the rest about what you were feeling. She was one of the only people you had considered talking to.

Curling up on the bed, you begged sleep to consume you entirely. 

———

The darkness was alive. 

The void humming and vibrating with movement and emotions that you couldn’t grasp. Calling out, your voice wouldn’t ring true, only a choking gasp emitting from your throat. Crawling on all fours, you frantically felt through the blackness for something, anything to help. Your left hand landed in a wet puddle, fingers brought to your face for further inspection were only met with blindness. That’s when you heard it: the screaming.

Rising to your feet, you began to stumble through the abyss towards the sound of the guttural sobs, trying to scream back to whoever it was know that you were here. The voice was obscured, yet somehow familiar. A sudden obstacle had you tumbling back onto your knees. Unlike before, the darkness was beginning to fade, showing the outstretched limb that had tripped you. Following the arm upwards, you were met with your own vacant eyes, staring unseeingly toward the heavens. 

Waking with a violent sob, you choked on every gasping breath. Dim red light filtered through the window, a mocking reminder of where you had ended up. This bedroom was beginning to  suffocate you. Looking over at the clock on the bedside table, the witching hour assured you that everyone was fast asleep. 

The hallway was silent as you crept on socked feet, destination unknown. Everything that had happened over the past few weeks played on a loop in your brain. You began to run, desperate to get to somewhere that you knew no longer existed; the screaming from the earlier dream becoming deafening. The sound of an opening door sent a wave of electric panic shooting through your veins. At the far end of the hall, an out-of-use dumbwaiter sat half rusted shut, but the opening was big enough to slide through. You ran as quietly as possible, squeezing through the cracked steel door. The metal contraption was oddly secure, though the space was tight. Bringing both knees to your chest, you took a deep breath. The shakiness of the exhale triggered another sob, followed by another, until the material of your pants was soaked by tears. 

The metal door of the dumbwaiter groaned slightly, making you jump. A pair of wide mis-matched eyes gazed back; Angel. Charlie had introduced you both upon arrival, though the spider-demon had seemed too pre-occupied with his phone to actually give a shit about your presence. 

“Oh shit—“ he was halfway into the dumbwaiter, recoiling slightly upon seeing your curled form, “Sorry toots, I uh…wasn’t expected anyone to be in here.”

You wiped both cheeks with a sleeve, “It’s okay, I should—“

“What’re you doing in here anyways?” Angel’s gaze swept over your face, “Sick of the luxurious suites we’re all so graciously given?” 

You knew he was trying to make a joke, but the last thing you wanted to do was laugh, let alone with a complete stranger. 

“I couldn’t be in that room anymore…I needed some air.”

“So you settled on a rusty metal box?” Angel cocked an eyebrow. You shrugged, avoiding his stare.

He sighed, and you heard the metal door groan again. Looking up, Angel was crawling his way into the dumbwaiter, settling in across from you. 

“What’re you doing?” You pulled both knees closer to accommodate his long legs.

“Joinin’ ya.”

“I can see that, but why?”

Angel fished for something in the pocket of his blazer, “‘cause I’ve got nothin�� else better to do right now, and it looks like you could use some company. And who’s better company than yours truly?” He grinned devilishly, one gold fang glinting in the dim light. 

You watched as he continued to dig in his pocket. “Why were you looking in here?”

Angel pulled a plastic bag out of his jacket, reaching up to unlatch a small compartment at the top of the dumbwaiter. “Oh, well you seem to have stumbled upon one of my many secret hiding spots.”

“And Charlie doesn’t mind you stashing drugs around the hotel?”

“This is Hell, dollface. No one cares what you do, as long as you play the game.” There was a bitterness in his voice, one that left as soon as it emerged, covered up by a sultry wink. “Besides, no one’s been able to find any of my hiding spots yet.” 

You hummed noncommittally, falling into a companionable silence. For as cramped of a space as it was, it was he most comfortable you’d felt since arriving in the afterlife.

“So…” Angel examined his nails, “Are you going to tell me why you was cryin’ or…?”

Something about this fluffy pink demon soothed your soul, more than even Charlie Morningstar: Queen of Hospitality had been able to do. You found your expertly-built wall cracking.

“I just…I fucked up.”

“We’ve all fucked up, toots. How else d’ya think we ended up here?” 

You shot him a glare just to find Angel smirking back. 

“I mean I fucked up by leaving everyone. My friends, my family. Now they’re stuck cleaning up my mess.”

Angel cocked his head to the side, a tendril of white hair falling over an eye, “Got yourself into a li’l trouble? Been there—”

“I ended it. It all got to be too much: life, working a dead-end job, and the constant pressure to put on a composed persona, so I ended it myself.”

You felt his body go rigid against your leg.

“Oh…shit.” Angel whispered, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah…shit.” The two of you sat in silence for a few more minutes, both unsure of what to say. You shifted slightly and sighed, “I dreamt of it earlier tonight, the aftermath of it all. I saw my body, I heard—“ You swallowed audibly, “—I heard my mother’s screaming.”

Angel was watching intently as you looked up, “I miss them. More than anything.”

His leg brushed against yours as Angel scooted towards the opening into the hallway, sliding his lithe body through the gap in the door. Your heart sank a little. Of course you had scared away the one person you were just beginning to feel comfortable with in this god-forsaken place. The burn of fresh tears pricked behind your eyes, until you saw Angel peering through the opening again.

“You comin’ or what?” 

You wiped a hand over your cheek, “To where?”

“Just trust me, I’ve got somethin’ to show you,” Angel held a hand out to help you slide through into the dark hallway. 

———

The door at the end of the corridor was covered in small polaroids and pink lights. The most personality you had seen since arriving in Hell.

“Is this your room?” You felt stupid the moment it came out of your mouth.

Angel smirked as he shouldered the door open, “What gave it away?”

The interior of his bedroom was bathed in neon pink light. Clothes in various fabrics and colors were strewn about, while a bed with numerous overly-plush pillows sat pushed against one of the far corners. There was life in here. There was personality and a sense of belonging. 

A loud squeal emanated from somewhere beneath the bed, startling you out of the mental tour of Angel’s room. A soft nudge of something against your ankle had you staring back at a tiny demon-pig, it’s little beady black eyes blinking curiously up at you. 

“Oh my god…” you breathed.

Angel reached to pick up the little pig, “Sorry about him—“

You were on the floor quicker than he could move, holding out both hands to let the little creature get used to your scent. The piglet snorted softly as it trailed sniffs up your palms, the feeling making you giggle slightly. Your laughter caused him to cease the exploration and instead launch into your lap, nuzzling against your body.

“He reminds me of my dog from home,” you looked up at Angel while stroking the velvet ear of the little pig. 

“I’ve never seen Fat Nuggets take to someone so quickly before,” he smiled, walking towards the bed, “C’mere, this is what I wanted to show you.”

You rose from the floor still clutching Fat Nuggets, who was now beginning to fall back asleep. Joining Angel near the headboard, you followed his gaze to the smattering of polaroids adhered to the wall behind the bed. Dozens of photos of himself with various people, some of which you recognized from the hotel, all of them smiling or laughing. 

“I fucked up too.” Angel’s voice was low, the undertone of sadness unmistakable, “In the living world, I spent years alone in a miserable existence of my own making,” He took a glance down at you, “So I know exactly what you were feeling back on Earth…trust me.” 

You leaned closer to him, feeling a familiar tightness in your throat.

“These people,” He motioned towards the photos, “They didn’t give a shit who I was, or where I came from, or what baggage I had. They accepted me, the real me, and became more of a family than I could ever ask for.” He turned to you fully, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder, the other petting Fat Nuggets snoring body. “I know they’d do the same for you, you just gotta give them a chance.”

The tears came freely now, and against all better judgement you stepped closer to lean against Angels chest, careful not to squish the sleeping pig in your arms. Four slender arms embraced you, and for the first time since you’d arrived in Hell, you could breathe. 

[honeesucker]

Three -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count: 4,670

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start... Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

*Not proofread.

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Bakugo watched as the Director turned to see where he was motioning toward, watching as your form disappears down the hallway until you and the staff member turned a final corner at the end, completely leaving view. She stood silent for a moment, worrying Bakugo as her eyes were trained on the now empty hallway. Her silence stretched on and made Bakugo’s skin itch, until she turned to him with such a thoughtful look it stunned him.  

“The puppy hybrid?” She questioned him, and he confirmed with a nod.

“Yes,” he stated simply, “she’s fond of Red Riot and his hybrid TetsuTetsu and I enjoyed her company during the event tonight – though I didn’t catch her name,” and as he trailed off the Director’s mouth quirked up in a slight smile.

“She doesn’t have one she has ever cared to share,” she mused. “Mostly she just accepts when people call her ‘Puppy’ or whatever else, honestly.” The sigh the Director let go at whatever thought was in her head left Bakugo curious, but he wanted to tread carefully. “I’m not opposed to this idea; she did just get sent back to us about six months ago which has been easy enough to navigate though she has gotten returned to us a total of seven times in the last five years since her initial rescue,” Bakugo waited for the Director to go on, watching with bated breath as she seemed to gather her thoughts. “She is well-mannered and easy to handle but she has been through some tremendously heinous things before her rescue five years ago, and it appears something happens in the homes she's adopted into where a precipice gets reached that cause the adopters to return her... we’ve been trying to uncover more of what may be causing this issue but haven’t been successful,” the Director’s voice trailed off into a whisper as she mouthed something to herself, Bakugo not able to pick up on the words. Her eyes seemed far away as she put her hand to her chin, massaging the skin thoughtfully before continuing. “I agree her being around TetsuTetsu would be a positive to have in a new home as they became quite close while he was here with her, she also did take a liking to Red Riot, and she seems to have gotten comfortable around you quickly. Yes, I wouldn’t be opposed to this at all but given her background you’re going to need to be more prepared – I would like for you to meet with her rehabilitation counselor, Hana, to go over her background and ensure you’re ready to take on this responsibility. I won’t tell you no, Mr. Bakugo, but I want you to have the full picture beyond this day so you can make an informed decision for yourself – and of course per our policy the hybrid will have the final say.”

Bakugo only nodded along to the Director’s speech, agreeing to meet with your counselor, he wanted to know more about you and be the best he could be for you. His thoughts were at war with himself wondering if what he would learn would somehow change his mind in taking you on, and the competitive drive to be your last home – to not fold like the weak extras before him who returned you.  

Fucking cowards.

Bakugo was led by the Director to a different wing of the facility where he was going to have an initial meeting with Hana - your rehabilitation counselor - to discuss your past, habits, temperament and his prospective adoption of you. He waited on a small, uncomfortable chair outside of Hana's office as she had an existing appointment already. Five minutes turned to ten, turned to twenty before Bakugo's leg ceased to bounce with the opening of the office door.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Bakugo,” Hana was a stout woman in her mid-thirties, Bakugo assessed, with shoulder-length mousy brown hair and equally kind brown eyes. Her smile crinkled her eyes, and puffed her cheeks in an endearing way that reminded him of how some grandmothers were drawn in his favorite manga's – always smiling, radiating kindness. He was instantly put at ease.

“No problem,” he responded, his tone of voice always coming off slightly confrontational no matter how he tried to soften it, “I appreciate you seeing me on short notice.”  

“Please come in,” Hana motioned for Bakugo to enter, and he did. Her office was brightly lit by the large windows taking up a full wall, with a view of one of the many expansive and breathtaking gardens that seemed to surround the facility itself, like the one he spent time with you in the center. Bakugo was motioned to a seat, and he gladly fell into the plush chair across from Hana, who had a thick file on her desk with your photo pinned to it. “So, I understand you’re interested in our little Puppy,” Hana began, staring Bakugo down but in the least confrontational way.

“Yes,” Bakugo cleared his throat, words almost getting stuck with his nerves. “I’ve been able to spend some time with her, and I have regular contact with Red Riot and TetsuTetsu who she’s friends with – I feel like the benefits outweigh anything else...” Bakugo’s voice trailed off as she noted Hana thumbing through your file, red eye straining to see whatever was in there he could before he realized it was being presented to him. He took it, admiring the adorable photo of you on the front of the folder, before he thumbed it open and was stopped in his tracks.

Bakugo could hear Hana speaking but his ears flooded with white noise, her voice sounded faraway as he eyed the photos that appeared to be dated from your initial rescue.

So many of the photos documented your face and body, sunken cheeks, deep, dark circles and matted hair, blood dried and flaking on your skin and in your hair and fur. Tail matted and bloodied, nothing like the plush little cloud that followed you now. He thumbed through more photos as the bruises and lacerations across your body worsened, evidence of your malnutrition and abuse painted on your body and in your eyes.

Your eyes.

They looked so empty, so far away, compared to the glistening little jewels he could get lost in now. The way the light shimmered from within you through them, compared to the photos he was looking at, astounded him. A small scribble in red ink, in the margin of your first physical check-up stopped his heart.

Bait hybrid.

He could see the wounds across your body transform to fit the picture now the closer he examined them. How so many of them showcased the outline of different sized jaws, deep-set wounds from teeth that tore into you. Bruises that bled out into the shape of hands. In a few of the photos you had bruises consistent with being bound by the wrists and ankles, even a close-up of a deep burn around your throat where a rope would have once been. He read over the extensive notes, one of which being a transcription from a recording:

2:03 A.M. Entered the suspect villa through the front and rear entrances, encountered hostile human guards as well as trained fighting hybrids – all wolves – taken down alive and handed over to the OPS Team.

2:07 A.M. Descended into the basement area and found a hybrid chained to a wall with a rope tightly pulled around the neck. Appears to be a puppy hybrid, unmoving, possibly deceased?

2:09 A.M. Confirmed puppy hybrid alive. Signs of serious abuse, suspect bait hybrid within a larger hybrid fighting ring, released the puppy hybrid from the bindings, examined and took photos for records.  

2:13 A.M. Puppy hybrid attacked one of the OPS Team, confirmed attempted head touch, possible sensitive area as demeanor has changed once the area is avoided.

2:34 A.M. Have confirmed residence cleared of all human and hybrid residents. All humans detained by OPS Team for arrest and conviction, all aggressive wolf hybrids detained by OPS Team for evaluation by hybrid specialists to assess for rehabilitation. Puppy hybrid sent with the Musutafu Rehabilitation Rep for assessment and consideration for foster program.

Bakugo had continued to read through your file, through the different times you were adopted and sent back – your interviews upon re-arrival regarding what happened in the homes was a topic you avoided speaking on. There were notes that you always ended up biting someone in the household but would never delve into the details of what triggered the event. Bakugo read in the interviews with the adopters that the incidents all happened when they would go to pet you, they had mentioned being able to have physical contact with you before, so they weren’t sure what had changed when it came to petting your head.

When Bakugo finally shut the file, he found Hana’s kind eyes regarding him carefully. He swallowed hard, the lump of anxiety lodged in his throat after seeing and reading the details of your past, it was all weighing heavily on him. You didn’t act like someone should after having gone through so much. He’s surprised even in your earlier interviews with Hana no notes were made mentioning any anger – why weren’t you raging at everything those bastards did to you? It almost appeared like you simply accepted it.  

Accepted that life was filled with things like that.

“As you can see, Mr. Bakugo, our little puppy has been run through quite the gamut,” Hana started, accepting the file back from Bakugo’s shaking hand. “Her temperament is quite agreeable given the circumstances, but she does have habits that have caused issues in her previous homes,” Hana paused to regard Bakugo some more and continued. “Given what I have read regarding your situation and the needs for your foster pair based off what the Director has observed I agree with her assessment that you would be a good fit for our puppy – even more so with your ties to two others who would greatly help her transition back into a home. I would only ask that you give me weekly updates on her progress as she encounters new things in your home, that she still meets with me on a monthly basis until it is decided it is no longer needed, and I would appreciate you setting up some visits with Red Riot for her to spend time with TetsuTetsu – those two were thick as thieves when they were both homed here.”

Bakugo only nodded along, agreeing to any and every caveat needed to move the process forward with you. For someone so independent, so brash and unforgiving of himself and others, who prided himself on only needing to rely on himself, his instincts when it came to you were screaming at him to protect you. To show you a life beyond the scope of what you’ve been subjected to. To be the last home you would ever have, ever need, ever want. Something about your looks initially caught his eye – how precious, and tiny, you looked curled up in Kirishima’s arms, how easily he could imagine holding you the very same way. Something in him was inexplicably pulling him to you, and he only hoped you enjoyed talking with him enough to consider coming home with him.

Bakugo left the facility with high hopes, but an equally heavy heart.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Three weeks had passed. Three long, insufferable weeks but Bakugo busied himself with all the required classes on hybrid rehabilitation and ownership; he even went to all his own therapies and treatments without so much as a grumble. Today was one of the days he was returning to the hybrid center to see you, under the guise of attending the center’s bi-annual adoption introduction event as a Pro Hero endorsement liaison – an event where the community members interested in adopting a hybrid can come and meet those up for adoption in a friendly and open environment, not unlike a picnic or  field day.

He was dressed up in his hero gear, gauntlets heavy against his chest as he stood with his arms crossed. He was already briefed by the center Director, who stated that while you weren’t officially up for adoption at this time you would be attending the event in the interest of giving him more time with you in an informal setting, and as a test of your social abilities with strangers. Presently, Bakugo had been here since the first hour of the event set-up. He has seen a variety of citizens and Pro Heros alike come through and spend time alongside the adoptable hybrids, eating, chatting, playing games and listening to different informative chats with the staff as they set up spread out around the park on the center grounds they currently set up on. He hadn’t yet caught a glimpse of you but there’s no certainty you were brought down with the rest of the adoptable hybrids first thing this morning. The day was about halfway through as he waited impatiently, Bakugo assessed by the Sun’s position, red eyes scanning the area around him cautiously – he didn’t anticipate any trouble but given that the Director asked him to be here on an official capacity first, he knew there had to be a reason.

Bakugo began to walk around, his arms now at his sides, though still buzzing with ready energy. His demeanor relaxed, although you couldn’t tell from his features with his mouth set in a hard line and his eyes narrowed and sharp. He took in the sight of happy hybrids interacting with people unafraid of what the interaction would bring, could see how their eyes sparkled and crinkled with laughter as they ran around. His heart was filling up with such a light feeling seeing how happy everyone was to interact, and his hopes only lifted at the thought of at least one of the hybrids here finding a good match, and forever home. He wondered how it felt for them, to still have such hope and trust in others after what they each had gone through. He was staring fondly at some hybrids and humans playing a game of hacky sack when the back of his neck prickled with an odd feeling. His eyes darted around swiftly, taking in everyone as he tried to identify the cause of this uneasy feeling, his damaged hearing causing everything that he was once zoned in on to become muffled white noise – the high-pitched ringing becoming worse as the panic rose in his chest. The edges of Bakugo’s vision blurred as he tried to take in steady gulps of air, spinning around to see more of the area around him. That’s when he caught it – caught sight of you.  

Or rather, you while stood in an uncomfortable lean away from a man who deemed it appropriate to hover so closely over you. Bakugo’s blood boiled as his palms popped and sizzled, his quirk threatening to activate, but he simply clenched his fists and stalked over to where you were, and for such a large and imposing man Bakugo certainly didn’t lack stealth as he quietly approached you both.

“You really are something special, a delectable little cutie,” this absolute piece of trash extra had the nerve to learn in and smell the hair on your head. “You know you're exactly what I’ve been looking for! The shelters and breeders in my area just don’t have any cute female hybrid companions,” the whiney tone of the off-putting man caused Bakugo’s anger to flare but he wanted to see where this was going and where you’d take it before he made a move he’d regret. “Society has moved into acceptance of human-hybrid relationships, but they just don’t offer any that are cute enough to fuc-! Aughgk!” Bakugo’s hand wrapped around the man and cut off his sentence with a gurgled choke the same moment you had turned on the man and sunk your canines into his forearm. The man’s hands came up to scramble and tried to pull Bakugo’s grip off his throat but to no avail, his arm where your teeth were still buried wiggled weakly to get you to let go.  

“Release, Puppy,” Bakugo’s voice wasn’t harsh as it was directed toward you, but his tone left no room for disobedience and you let go, flattening yourself against the nearest tree to where you were stood. “Y’know, it’s people like you that make things harder for hybrids, scum like you make things unsafe for those who’ve already been through enough,” Bakugo’s anger was boiling to the surface, but it wasn’t a moment after he tightened his grip on the guys throat that security for the event came and gently touched the Pro’s shoulder, stating they would handle it from there. Bakugo relented only when he saw you still standing frozen in place, hiding against the tree a few feet away from the scene. Bakugo gave the pathetic man one last toothy, evil grin which caused the man to cower before he turned to you, kneeling on one knee to not look so imposing in all his Pro gear.  

“Hey Puppy,” to anyone who knew Bakugo, they wouldn’t recognize the man who softened just as he did. Kneeled in front of you with a breeze-soft tone, cooing and holding his hand out for you to take; even when he rescued women and children he was as hard as ever, a regular criticism he was met with from the tabloids, and his own agency.  “You were ready to fight, huh pup?” Bakugo’s voice held a humorous lilt, and your ears perked toward him as your eyes finally met his. “You did a real good job there, Puppy, didn’t need my help at all huh?” Your ears twitched like they wanted to flatten against your head, given your crestfallen expression, but they didn’t budge – cute little fluffy triangles Bakugo desperately found himself wanting to reach for if he didn’t already know your past triggers.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled out, slowly taking the hand Bakugo still had extended and when his fingers closed around yours, he pulled you gently to him. “I didn’t mean to bite,” your voice was small, and you began to shake in his arms, and he only pulled you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin and wrapping his arms tightly around you until the shaking subsided.  

“It’s okay Puppy,” Bakugo assured you, “it’s okay to bite someone when they’re trying to hurt you. Standing up for yourself is okay.” Bakugo could feel you relax completely in his arms as he finally looked around him, seeing the Director, Hana and a couple other staff standing back from the two of you by about ten feet.

“I was told not to bite though,” you mumbled again, sighing as you rested your head against Bakugo’s arms.

“Listen to me Puppy,” Bakugo argued, “biting someone is okay when you have a reason – like defending yourself or someone else.”

“Have a reason...” you murmured more to yourself, but Bakugo caught it, just giving you a reassuring pat on your shoulder before standing with you in his arms, your nose nuzzling against the column of Bakugo’s throat sending an involuntary shiver down his spine as the cold touch ignited something within him.

“Mr. Bakugo, can you and our little Puppy come with me? The police who arrested the man want statements,” The Director spoke softly as she watched you, remaining silent as she lead you both back into the building.

“You up for that, Puppy?” Bakugo watched as you gave a small nod, still nosing at his throat and taking in small, rapid breaths. “What’cha doing there, hm?” Bakugo raised his eyebrows as he heard you whisper, ‘smell different’, and just continued with whatever it was you were doing rubbing against him, and he had to admit a certain comfort came from your cold nose against his warm skin. No more than an hour had passed with you and Bakugo giving your individual statements, he was waiting on a lounge sofa situated in one of the common rooms while you were in a closed office with the officers. Bakugo’s anxiety was back in full force with his leg bouncing a mile a minute, his heart beating furiously against his chest wall and his palms were sweaty and ready to set off, the acrid smell of blackened sugar giving hint to the quirk activation. Bakugo hadn’t realized he was disassociating until he felt a light pressure on his lap. His eyes refocused and brought him back to reality when he noticed you were sitting on his lap, straddling his legs as you laid your body against his, your arms wrapped tightly around him as far as you could go. “What’cha doin’, Puppy?” Bakugo grumbled, heart still hammering in his chest.

“TetsuTetsu used to hug me tight tight tight when I would have a bad dream,” you stated simply, “and you smelled like you needed to be hugged tight tight tight, too.” You just laid your head against his chest over his heart and Bakugo soon found his heartrate slowing down, even though he was certain you were too light to apply what he knew to be deep pressure therapy, his cheeks burned with a cherry tinge and his heart swelled at the sight. Though you lacked enough weight to successfully do what you were trying to do, your proximity to him calmed him all the same.

“S’good, Puppy,” Bakugo mumbled out softly and you beamed up at him as you tilted your head against his chest to meet his gaze, your fluffy tail thumping away happily behind you. “Did such a good job f’me.” Without thinking Bakugo had reached up of his own accord, and rough palm went soft against the silky top of your head, ears splitting away where his hand patted the crown of your head.

Snap!

A soft, almost indiscernible sound was heard, but even Bakugo picked it up as he zeroed in on you in his lap. Your body had frozen in its place, you weren’t even breathing as he took in the sight of you.  

A small, broken rubber band was lying on the lounge sofa just beside you both, your breathing going from zero to a hundred as you began to take in panicked gulps of air. Bakugo looked up and saw one of your ears, normally cute little sharp triangles above your head, but now one was lying flopped against your head, folded over although he could see irritation and fur loss where the rubber band had been, presumably for a very long time. You went to scramble out of his lap, but Bakugo grabbed you and anchored you down against him, you were panicking and even tried to bite his forearms where you could reach but your little fangs couldn’t penetrate his Pro Hero costume, the gear made for battle and hits much stronger than your little bite force quotient*.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorryI’msorrym’sorrysorry,” your eyes were glazed over, far-away and deep in a memory as you shook in his arms, fighting to get out of his grip with an admirable strength even though it didn’t compare to the little force he was exerting to keep you in place. Bakugo could see the Director and Hana, who had still been standing nearby dealing with the police officers from earlier, frozen and watching the scene, Hana was stopped by the Director before she had a chance to intervene – the Director watched on with an intent gaze. Bakugo held you with one arm, holding you against him as he used his other hand to reach up and head toward the ear still standing up tall – you snapped and bit onto the guard that usually seated itself beneath his gauntlets, fangs trying hard to tear flesh enough to get him to release you, you shook your head gently but it didn’t do much to stop Bakugo as he touched your other ear and soon heard a similar snap with the small plastic ring, now broken, falling to the floor. You were growling now, not releasing his wrist guard as you glared at him, but he could see it in your eyes: fear.

“Puppy,” Bakugo warned, tone deep and steady. “Release.” You gave an indignant snort through your nose, the gentle puff of air hitting Bakugo’s face as he held you in front of him, a quirk to the corner of his lips giving away his amusement at your fight. His eyes soon narrowed, sharp and deadly, and soon you found yourself slowly unlocking your jaw as he pulled his arm away from you. With all the fight drained out of you at his command, Bakugo watched as your eyes began to well up with tears, which clumped your lashes and fell down your cheeks in fat streaks, your nose moistening as you sniffled and relaxed against the iron grip still holding you in place against him. Bakugo released his grip on you, and you just fell forward against him, sniffling and letting the tears fall unhindered. Bakugo’s arms wrapped around you loosely as he brought both his hands up around the back of your head, fingers normally clenched in fists or pointed at villains and firing off deadly explosions now gently rubbing the soft fur of your ears as he got a closer look at what irritation he caught sight of earlier and what he saw made his stomach turn. “Why did you have rubber bands on your ears, Pup?” His tone was so marshmallow-y soft it melted away what remained of your fight or flight and left you just feeling surrounded in the best of ways. Made you feel like you hadn’t felt quite enough before...  

Safe.

“They said floppy ears were for filthy, cheap mutts, and they had spent too much money on me,” your voice got small as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, tiny fang drawing a pinprick of blood. “They sent me to go get them cropped because Master would pull my ears too hard whenever he saw them, but I didn’t wanna go-” a choked sob cut off your sentence, but you drew in a breath as Bakugo carded his fingers through your hair, occasionally reaching back up to gently rub your ears between his fingers. “I didn’t wanna go again because the first time they put me to sleep I woke up hurting so bad, so instead I went to the market and took rubber bands from the flower bouquets and wrapped my ears with bandages to look like I went... the other hybrids who got their ears cropped were in so much pain I didn’t wanna be in any more pain, I’m sorry I bit you I didn’t mean to I-” your rambling cut off as Bakugo pulled you tightly against his chest, face smushed against hard muscle as he just applied all-over pressure and soon you found yourself relaxing in his lap.

“Nothing about you is filthy, or cheap, or wrong.” Bakugo stated simply.

You didn’t anticipate the reaction you had when you heard those words, but the second they left the blonde’s mouth you were sobbing against his chest, fisting his hero costume and shaking as he simply let you sit with all you were feeling. Bakugo had continued to look up and check in with the Director and Hana; Hana, who Bakugo noted, was recording the pair with her phone – probably for records and research purposes. Bakugo didn’t mind one bit if it helped you in the end to be understood more. The Director was watching the whole scene unfold, taken back by the days' events already and hardly expecting what came of it – but she knew it more certainly than she did the weeks before when Bakugo first mentioned his interest in you.

You two were meant for each other.

*Bite force quotient (BFQ) is a numerical value commonly used to represent the bite force of an animal, while also taking factors like the animal's size into account.

[phenphoenix]

Who wants to cry?!

--

[Vaggie bursts into the hotel, taking everyone by surprise.] Husker: Oh, hey Vagg- (gets knocked down as Vaggie goes right past him( Nift: You ok, furrball? Husker: (blank cat stare) Anthony: (sees this sh!t happen) Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can't just-. Vaggie: Don't start with me, Tony! (stops up to her room) [Everyone looks stares where Vaggie just was, falling silent. Charlie raises an eyebrow and sinks into the floor. Vaggie enters her room, slumps into her chair and starts hyperventallating, clearly having a panic attack as Velvette's words echo in her mind.] Charlie: (apperates behind) Vaggie? Vaggie: (in shock, turns to look at Charlie) Ch-Charlie. I… You get out of my-! [Charlie grabs Vaggie by the face, turns her head to the side and brushes her hair away to see a mark Velvette left] Charlie: Oh, Vaggie… Vaggie: (bats her hand away) It's nothing. (walks to he boudoir) Charlie: No, it isn't. Overlords can be bad… but that little-. Vaggie: You have no idea what you are talking about [Charlie raises an orb similar to Nift's eye, playing back Vaggie's confession to her about why she allows herself to get drugged {Masquerade}] Charlie: I do, Vaggie. Vaggie: I don't want to talk about it. Charlie: It isn't right. Perhaps I should pay her a visit. [Charlie partially assumes her demon form and heads to the door, only for Vaggie to grab her arm.] Vaggie: Don't! Please, Charlie. Charlie: You know I can take her, you are clearly suffering, why won't you let us, me, help? Vaggie: BECAUSE I DESERVE IT! [Charlie is taken aback by the outburst] Vaggie: (fights back against the tears) I don't deserve happiness, or redemption, or love. I have hurt… killed… so many people. One little choice cast me down here, and I now have to live with it. I am the most deserving of Hell, because (ripps the back of her shirt off and reveals whats left of her wings) THIS IS WHO I AM!!! (slumps to her knees) Now you know… and you have every right to hate me, to hurt me… to kill-. [Charlie hugs Vaggie, Vaggie is flabbergasted] Charlie: You're wrong. You don't deserve this. You are a kind soul, you've shown how far you've come in rehabilitation. So what if you were an exorcist and killed who cares how many? I mean, I ended a few myself... But the fact you have seen the error of your ways is a step up from those self-righteous, hoity toity bitches. Besides, I doubt any are as cute as you. (boops Vaggie) Vaggie: (sniffs and cries a bit) Th-thanks… [the two hug] Vaggie: Listen… can you… keep this between us? I will come clean. Just, on my own time. Charlie: Not my secret to tell. [The two hug again. Razzle and Dazzle look on with smiles. Dazzle takes out a small paper and adds Velvette to the list]

I'm gonna eat your brain-

More Swap!Vaggie and Fizz parallels my beloved,,,,

[d8tl55c]

y ' a l l . it took me multiple weeks to start working on a pony town skin <- real <- i made SIXTEEN other ones before the one i wanted

so now you're gonna look at them :D

behold! i bring you: disheveled TCO & rehabilitated TCO

it was a long journey to get here and every freaking detail has some personal lore about it- so if you want to see some progress shots ive chronicled them below X3

ok so 💕✨\o_🎉

the original plan was to: 0. go for a cho post-Showdown and pre-Box 1. use my existing spacescug colors (so i wouldn't get overwhelmed and stop) to create interesting gradients with the black, 2. dress them in.......... WHATEVER seemed cool at the time, and 3. have fun.

SO! i did. ~

(fun facts: the spacescug is one of the 16 skins i crafted while anxiety-ing over ava/m (sometimes ill use it to SNEAK AROUND and admire people (pls say hi lol <3 )))

features. i went with the fluffiest hair i could find, a starry mask for privacy, a comfy sweater, and my two pride and joys: firetail and transparency-skirt.

see look look it's supposed to be showing the legs on the other side of the fabric :D :D :D !!! and, if you look close, it's discreetly distracting from the big shackle i added to the left hind leg. (if you look REALLY close, you'll see i drew some grass in the "hole" of the head. this is why im so excited about this i went ALL IN ;v;;;;) (transparency-skirt ruled as a concept, but in the end it didn't make it any further through my TCOs)

okay so then i spot this character.

i instantly fell in love with the way they did their head (never before seen by me), and was inspired to refine my own work a little,,, so i would fit in more with them when we hung out.

i tore the sleeves off of the cozy sweater, added a Rocket-Brand™-lookin collar, and retired transparency-skirt.

i enjoyed this version so much i didn't change it until fall rolled around....

in which, while re-doing my whole catalog of fav skins to match the new ground color, i changed like 7 entire pixels of the design which i am not going to waste your scroll bar with. <3

now it's getting real.

one day, i needed a break from a thing and decided to dev some more accessories. i had an idea to strap down the wings with one of the feather outline colors and a Waist item, and that quickly spiraled into changing several many, many, more things.

speed round! extra features include:

firetail upgrade! ++shiny

+detail on right hind leg: scars? a tracking device maybe?

aforementioned wing restraint

right cozy sleeve ripped further to install the

Rocket™ wristband: that can't be good

hair accents match accessories and each other better

Back Mane changed for ++disheveled points

Ear accessory added for ++disheveled points

Ear type changed for more fluff back there

and as you can see i bit the bullet and tried to make an homage to my new friend's head style, and i found that these closed eyes (left) look like frowny cho-eyes. :3

AND THAT WAS AWESOME. i felt great. stylish, even. i sat there with an extra 10% deduction to needless social anxiety in my new threads.

and i thought, huh. i've made this little guy suffer, mentally and physically, for fifteen outfits now. what changes if they escape The Situation? and heal?

i pondered this for a while, but i didn't get the boost to act on it until i met this MVP.

they taught everyone on that day cool and funny pony-making tricks! and they're sweet.

from them i was inspired yet again ☝

and this time, i mixed in EVERYTHING. slowly untying the ropes, healing the scars, repairing the hair. the glasses trick that TDL taught me to get the more expressive eyes. the colors and patterning i learned from making a troodon skin (another of the 16) to re-dye the hair and add a new layer of striped pattern to the clothes. yellow with the red so it nods to TDL AND represents more fire. thE SLEEVES ripped ALL THE WAY OFF!!! YEAAAH SHUCK THAT ANGST I MADE THE MARKS BASED ON HOW YOUR CURSOR INVERTS IN WORD

WHAT IF INSTEAD OF RETURNING TO GREYS THEY START DRESSING IN LITTLE EXPLOSIONS OF COLOR •-|,=-||-•|-',=•-|"/, |'['-•-|_|<,['- [,-|'"/,/_',= '////////

and

that's it.

except for ofcourse the :V s :3333333

SO THAT'S THE STORY OF THIS

WOW, haha, thank you for coming on this journey with me. if you know more about pony town than me i am so taking suggestions- i am still learning and having a great time doing it!

TOODLES 💕

[dreamwreaver]

Vaggie would really benefit from having a long break from being Charlie's girlfriend and take the screentime for herself WITHOUT involving Charlie. Honestly, for the sake of keeping her a compelling character, they should have focused on her past as an exorcist and had her reflect on her actions, having an identity crisis because all she was made for was war and now that she's left that behind, what else is there for her? Who is she? Too bad she's designated as the love interest and nothing more.

Though I wonder what's your full thoughts on Vaggie since you seem to have a lot of valid arguments to say about her. Is it okay to ask for a critique on her character, if it's not too much trouble?

I couldn't resist lol.

No but for real, Vaggie could be such an interesting character on her own. She was an Angel created by the first man who ascended and proceeded to become a massive fucking dick. Her whole purpose is to be a weapon. From the way adam talks vaggie was possibly only second to lute. So what could have changed; we see the exorcists can go out and about in heaven proper without issue. They have normal lives. Heaven is allegedly perfect; so why did Vaggie change? Is it possible that (solely from a callous perspective) there was some inherent defect in her design? Like, it's very weird and considering we don't really know the strict parameters of the extermination it's cause for concern.

My basic knowledge is that so long as Lucifer allows them to come and purge sinners the rest of hell will remain untouched, including his family. That may in fact be why he showed up in the final battle. Adam was going to kill Charlie, we see his mask glitch which might have been a visual cue for the audience that the deal was broken. But back to Vaggie; without going on a whole other tangent about the possible classification of Rosie and the rest of her cannibals Vaggie spared someone and was mutilated and left for dead because of it. Why? Honestly the issue could really just be that Lute and Adam are dicks and saw this one act of mercy as weakness that needed to be culled. Whatever the reason, vaggie lost her halo, her wings, and her eye and was left to bleed out in an alley.

All of that is honestly a good setup for Vaggie wanting vengeance on those that abandoned her. But it really doesn't mesh with her being around Charlie if it is. We know from dialogue in the show Vaggie still has a lot of bloodlust in her heart and I don't think that's necessarily bad since it's all part of her makeup. But why, then, go along with a hotel to rehabilitate sinners? Honestly most of the things Vaggie does seem to be just because she's going along with what Charlie wants. Very much like Lucifer even in her "disgraced" state lets say, she still clearly sees herself as above the other sinners around her. She doesn't really do most of the hotel activities aimed at self improvement, she made 1 commercial to try and promote the thing, mostly she tends to just sit around and frown or threaten people with her spear. Again, not a bad character in and of herself but when paired with Charlie the energy is just completely antithetical to one another.

And again notice how the fallen Angel who doesn't seem to care for sinners ended up with someone half angel and half demon. Isn't that just... so convenient? And sure, it could be paralleling Charlie's parents as so many chaggie shippers are wont to claim. But tbh? Charlastor fits that bill more. A divine being falling for a mortal and willing to face down their own creator to be with this person.

I think my biggest issue is that shippers treat it like peak wlw rep. In an adult animated show? In 2024? No. You could replace most of Vaggie's scenes with a lamp and it wouldn't change a thing. The very fact that so many casual people who joined when the finished series aired had NO IDEA they were a couple until episode 5? Right, meanwhile Rebecca sugar in 2015 on Cartoon Network had an episode of steven universe where ruby and sapphire couldn't stop being gay long enough to not sabotage a mission. We got lesbian softball, we got neck kisses, we got a goddamn marriage proposal and this was at a time where the gayest rep we'd gotten before that was the korrasami handhold as they wandered into the spirit dimension.

In your ask you mentioned a really good question nonny; who is vaggie without being an exorcist? What are her goals, her ambitions, her hobbies, ANYTHING? What does she like to do in her spare time? What secret love does she have that she'd be mortified if anyone found out about? What food can she not stand? And no amount of "sexy songs" in future seasons will fix the fundamental thing broken in this relationship; vaggie is an object, not a partner.

Even if I don't ship it personally I see the appeal of ships like cherrimoth or velvette moth. They pair vaggie with strong personalities who would take serious offense to anyone thinking they're too fragile to handle a harsh truth. They don't want someone to be their armor, they want a partner.

And honestly, that's why I like Emily for Vaggie. Yes, she's basically Charlie in true angel form, but think about what she said when Sera tried to gaslight her about why she kept Emily in the dark about the exorcisms;

"I don't need your condescension, I'm not a child to protect"

And that right there is the same thing Vaggie needs to hear. Charlie is a grown ass woman hundreds of human years old. The notion that just because she's an optimist, just because she's positive and emotionally sensitive doesn't mean she couldn't handle something that weighed on her partner like this. But truthfully? Vaggie might have never let Charlie in, but Charlie never really thought to knock, now did she?

But that's a discussion for another ask, now isn't it? ;)

[sophelisticated]

I know nobody follows me yet… but I made… someting for @bamsara, they don’t like being idolized but they are so cool to me they are my INSPIRATION. Shakespeare hangs its head in shame at how good Bam’s writing is

Anyway I made dis, it’s a oc insert in bam’s rehabilitation of death fanfic! It’s not very good, but I awoke in the night and brain exploded in ideas.

Word count: ~1.2k

(SPOILERS FOR THEIR FIC, PLEASE BE WARNED)

-Sleep Like the Dead-

The One Who Waits is patient. It’s in his title. Even so, ever since the entrapment of being in this mortal, lowly body, his… ‘nightmares’ have become more than a mere nuisance. Narinder has awaken with more bile in his throat, more of his godly blood spilled from his eyes. And most importantly—he has grown more irritable. The lamb had noticed that the god of death’s patience for their silly rants have been shut down sooner than usual. Though Lambert has pressed Narinder for information, the vessel is met with a sneering cat showing it’s back to them.

It was a night such as all the others. The former god of death sat in his bed, meditating, but found himself distracted. He did not want to go to sleep, but he felt tired. His ego already shattered from being in a mortal body, he felt himself even more pathetic. A god being scared of some mere ‘nightmares’? It made him cringe at himself. But he knew that even if he slept, he wouldn’t gain anything out of it. His mind cannot escape the traitor. The lamb. That wretched, awful excuse for a vessel.

But the exhaustion tugs at his eyes. And he complies quietly, though irritably. He lays down, and lays there with a grimace. Simply waiting until he falls unconscious.

He lays down at the trunk of the tree.

“Do not wander.” Narinder says firmly to Baal and Aym. They nod and go scurry off. They have been adapting well to the cult. The flock have been teaching Baal and Aym routines, but today? They get to wander. Narinder looks up at the beautiful tree he lays up against. The purple bark complimented its leaves and flowers. This year, it has exploded in color, more than it usual would. White leaves paired with multicolored flowers. The grass is warm underneath him. And strangely enough, it doesn’t decay. And he’s actually happy about that fact.

He looked out into the distance with a small hum of relaxation. He sees Baal stuffing flowers in Aym’s collar, and they go running off into a chase. But not too far. Just as Narinder asked.

“Is it nice?” A soothing voice comes from his left. Narinder doesn’t jump, nor get surprised. Like he somehow knew she was there.

It was a bird. A peacock. Her white plumage glittering in the sunlight, but glowing more on the rainbow feathers on her tail and the primary and secondary rainbow feathers on her wings. The flowing white dress she wore went further than her feet, but she walked with grace. The white dress did not get any grass stains as she walked from behind the tree. She nestled next to Narinder at the base of the purple tree. Her caring, rainbow eyes scanning his form. Whatever the peacock is thinking, the cat cannot place it. Her wings fold at her sides. He answers back in a casual tone. “I enjoy it. I get to have some privacy from the lamb.” He scoffed. The peacock chuckled softly at his words. “It must be frustrating. Even having him plague your dreams. Thankfully, he is not here.” She speaks gently, tilting her beak at him. Narinder opens his mouth to respond, and he feels a lot heavier as he processes her words, and then becomes aware of his surroundings. He narrows his eyes at the peacock, but finds his body too fuzzy and warm to move away.

“This is not my memory. Who’s memory is this? I don’t-“ “Tis no memory. Never was, my dear.” The rainbow stranger cuts him off with a gentle wave of her wing.

“I am Oneiros. I am the representation of dreams, imagination, and creation.” She says calmly. Narinder notices that his body had relaxed, and his mind calmer. Something about her voice. It just made him calm. He stared at her for a long minute. And she simply stared out at the fields.

“Have you come to torture me in my sleep, as the lamb has?” The god of death glowers at Oneiros, but the glare doesn’t have the fierce energy he wants it to. It doesn’t particularly matter though. She just hummed softly at his words. “No, One Who Waits. I believed you needed a fulfilling rest, a rest filled with softness and warmth.” She spoke patiently, plucking a couple of flowers and beginning to make a little banquet. But gods cannot dream. He knew that for certain. This woman spouts lies, manipulating me into getting me think I can trust her, until-

“I do not lie.” She interrupts his thinking. He snarls at the reminder that his thoughts aren’t safe in the dreamworld.

“Yes, gods cannot dream. But in special circumstances, i can bless them with a dream. The circumstances I will not share with you, little cat.” Oneiros booped his nose with a rose. Narinder snarled, swatting the flower away. “Are you mocking me?” He sneered, and Oneiros made a squawk of laughter. “No, dear. I like giving my dreamers nicknames. Little cat will be yours.” She hummed, her eyes upturned with light humor. The god of death sneered again. He bristled, his tail spiking in irritation. “I shall pluck your feathers out, one by one, if you ever call me that again.” He snarled, his tail whipping back and forth with attitude. She chortled in amusement. “I have worse nicknames, my dear. But I will just call you ‘cat’.” Oneiros hummed. He huffed, but didn’t comment any further. His usual malicious tendencies were toned down more in this realm, he felt less argumentative, he noticed. The peacock then handed him a mini banquet of multicolored flowers. Flowers of such bright colors, he assumed they were exotic.

“I will come again when you are at your lowest. For this safe haven will always look different each time you are here.” She cooed. Bowing her head to Narinder. He took the flowers, and they didn’t wilt, even if he wanted it to. The peacock huffed at his attempt. Not upset, but a tad disappointed at his attitude.

He then heard the yelling of voices familiar. He had seen them earlier, but now that he is more aware, he stills at the sight of Baal and Aym playing in the flowers. He is silent for many heartbeats. The pair stare at The One Who Waits, confused.

“Are they here?” He asked gruffly, but there was a tone of longing in his voice, which he cursed at himself for letting slip out. The question didn’t make much sense, but Oneiros understood. The rainbow peacock took notice of Narinders uncertainty. Almost desperation. At this, her eyes softened in pity.

“No, sweetheart.” She said gently, a motherly air. She put a wing on his shoulder, the softness of the feathers slightly against his cheek making him swivel his head to look at the bird.

“Nothing in this realm is real. I’m sorry, dear. Wake up, and be refreshed.” Oneiros commanded, blessed. Brushing her rainbow wings against his forehead, and his insides felt fuzzier. The warmth of the grass becoming unfocused as he felt his body drop.

He slowly sat up, and he checked his face and sheets. No bleeding. And he felt better than he had in weeks, probably even months.

He didn’t find the company unpleasant, Narinder just wasn’t used to it. He felt like he could handle 20 hours of the lambs rambling, and 10 minutes was already straining it. So to say he felt better was an understatement.

He’d be hoping to visit that realm again soon. Maybe see if the rainbow peacock has any insight on what to do when godly power is shared between two people.

[mariacallous]

Last weekend, U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken visited Israel, Jordan (to meet with Arab foreign ministers), Ramallah (located in the West Bank), Iraq, and Turkey. With the war between Israel and Hamas now entering its sixth week, U.S. diplomacy has kicked into high gear. As Blinken works to secure humanitarian relief for Gazans caught in the crossfire, he has been signaling where he and the White House would like things to go once the fighting stops: a “revitalized” Palestinian Authority (PA) that would administer the West Bank and Gaza and a temporary international force to help provide security in the latter.

These ideas are probably the only ones that satisfy U.S. political, diplomatic, and geo-strategic concerns as well as those of some Arab governments. Yet they are likely to fail.

The Biden administration is embarking on a path that it studiously avoided during its first three years—and for good reason. It is now going to discover that, despite its efforts, when the war between Israel and Hamas ends, the region will look more like a version of the status quo that existed on Oct. 6 than a new Middle East.

As Blinken crisscrossed the Middle East, he seemed of the mind that this war is a paradigm-shifting event. This is a misplaced hope, however. No doubt there is a place for U.S. diplomacy in the conflict, but the secretary of state is approaching it with a set of assumptions—about the likely effects of the war on Israeli and Palestinian politics, the interests of regional actors, and Washington’s influence—that are defective.

It is not a bad assumption that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s days are numbered. He presided over the single greatest security failure in Israel’s history, which undermined the entire logic of his long tenure as the country’s leader. Netanyahu told Israelis that he was uniquely capable of providing them with the security and normalcy that they so desperately craved. It would be an extraordinary demonstration of political skills for him to survive this crisis.

But his likely political demise does not portend the resurrection of the Israeli peace camp. Even before Hamas murdered around 1,400 Israelis on Oct. 7, the standard-bearers of the two-state solution had become marginal political actors. Israel’s left-wing Meretz party, which commanded as many as 12 (out of 120) seats in the Knesset in the mid-1990s and most recently was a member of Naftali Bennett’s anti-Netanyahu government coalition in 2021, failed to win a single mandate in the Israeli parliament in the November 2022 elections—a loss of six seats. The Labor Party—the party of Israel’s founders and builders—sits in the Knesset with a mere four seats.

Elections will not happen until after hostilities in Gaza come to an end. But it seems likely that after Hamas wrought so much death and destruction on Israel, Israelis will again rebuff those peddling a peaceful coexistence with Palestinians. A postwar government could very well end up being a Netanyahu-less center-right-right coalition.

During the second week of the war, polls showed that Benny Gantz—the former defense minister and leader of National Unity alliance—enjoyed broad political support. He is a centrist only by Israeli standards, however; he ran to Netanyahu’s right on Gaza in previous election cycles and remains coy about Palestinian statehood. All of this suggests that if Blinken and his advisors believe they can resurrect the two-state solution, then they misapprehend Israeli politics.

Central to the U.S. day-after approach is the rehabilitation of the Palestinian Authority for it to take responsibility for the Gaza Strip once again. It is not at all clear what the goal of revitalizing the PA means in practice, though. Pouring money and guns into PA President Mahmoud Abbas’s coffers has helped him build a corrupt national security state.

Perhaps Blinken intends for there to be new elections in the Palestinian territories. Yet Abbas could lose, which is why the PA has not held parliamentary elections since 2006, when his faction—Fatah—lost to Hamas.

Even if Abbas could overcome the PA’s corruption, dysfunction, and lack of legitimacy with U.S. help, it is unlikely that he would want to be the U.S.-Israeli proconsul in Gaza. After all, that is at the heart of Hamas’s critique of the Palestinian Authority: that it advances Israeli—and by extension U.S.—interests at the expense of Palestinian rights. On this, the Hamas leadership is not wrong.

Presumably, the United States will enlist the so-called international community to help the Palestinian Authority get on its feet. This is not a bad thought, but Washington needs willing partners—and no leader in Europe, Asia, the Middle East, Latin America, or Africa has raised their hand to help with either providing security in Gaza after the war or helping to reenergize the PA. It is almost certain that there will be a conference in Geneva or Istanbul, where countries will pledge billions of dollars for the reconstruction of Gaza—most of which will never arrive.

But don’t expect foreign troops to materialize to keep peace. The Europeans will resist out of fear, the Egyptians will balk because they do not want to be responsible for Gaza, and the rest of the Arab world lacks the capacity for such an important mission. One can imagine that Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan might dramatically offer Turkish troops, claiming historic responsibility and Muslim solidarity, but the Israelis will never agree to Erdogan’s aggrandizement at their expense.

Let’s play a thought experiment: Suspend reality and suppose that the United States can renovate the PA, European and Arab countries step up with peacekeeping forces for Gaza, and the Israelis produce a moderate centrist coalition. This would be good news, but the bases of the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians would remain. Israelis will still not want to share Jerusalem, they won’t accept Palestinian refugees in their midst, and they will not agree to live within the boundaries set on June 4, 1967, at the end of that year’s Arab-Israeli War. For their part, the Palestinians will not give up a capital in Jerusalem, cannot forsake the refugee issue, and must have a territorially contiguous and fully sovereign state.

There is nothing about the war in Gaza that will encourage Israelis and Palestinians to alter these positions. The world always expects the two parties to walk right up to the abyss and pull back, but instead they always join hands and jump.

The appetite for destruction that has played out in Israel and Gaza over the past month reflects the fact that the underlying conflict between Israel and the Palestinians is not yet ripe for resolution. And there is little reason to believe that when the current round of fighting is over, the situation will be any more propitious for diplomacy. Hamas needs to not lose, and even if it does, it will have burnished its resistance credentials to the extent that the cost of the conflict will be worth it for the group’s leaders.

The Israelis are bloodied, but not enough for them to seek a different path. This is especially true as long as the Lebanon-based militant group Hezbollah sits on the sidelines and takes shots at Israel without triggering a full-scale war.

In addition, Israel’s relations with Arab states remain mostly intact. The Jordanians have recalled their ambassador and told the Israelis not to send one back to Amman until after the fighting has stopped, but King Abdallah has not severed relations. The lower house of the Bahraini parliament issued a statement suspending relations that did not actually suspend relations. The head of the foreign affairs and defense committee of the United Arab Emirates’ Federal National Council said: “From the United Arab Emirates perspective, the Abraham Accords are there to stay.” Saudi Arabian Minister of Defense Khalid bin Salman, who also happens to be the crown prince’s brother, reportedly indicated in Washington last week that the kingdom remains interested in normalization with Israel.

Breaking ties or putting potential ties on ice might get Israel’s attention, but Arab leaders don’t seem willing to take that step.

Taken together, all of this suggests that after all the death and destruction, and all of Blinken’s shuttling, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict will end up no closer—or, more likely, even farther away—from a settlement than before Oct. 7. The only difference will be whatever security regime Israel devises for the Gaza Strip—a territory that Hamas cannot be allowed to continue governing, but which no international power is willing to take responsibility of.

It is true that the Israel-Hamas war seems cataclysmic, but it is not a paradigm-shifting event like Egyptian-Israeli peace, the end of the Cold War, or the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. It is a local conflict—the stakes of which have been magnified many times because of passionate partisans on both sides, far away from the bloodshed.

It will remain as it was before: unresolvable, no matter how much mileage Blinken clocks between Washington and Middle Eastern capitals.

[shadecrux]

On The Wing - Chapter 2

https://open.spotify.com/track/0RLwgks1gHQzXeIkaJIpHr

Previous Chapter  ┃Next Chapter

˚ * •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙* ˚＊------💜 💚 💜------＊* •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙ *

°•★Pairing: Bucky Barnes x femaleartist!reader

°•★Rating: NSFW 

°•★Tags: strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, romantic AND sexual tension, flirting, pet names (doll, sweetheart), a little bit of steve!, k.i.s.s.i.n.g., metal arm (i consider that a warning), grumpy!bucky if you squint, bucky being a dork, promises of more lewdness

°•★ Words: 2275

°•★ Notes: Chapter two!!  Uhh uhh only thing I can really think to note here is that while I will be writing a bit about Bucky being a soldier any resemblance to real world wars or history is accidental, as I intentionally left it vague to keep the story from veering in a different direction. I know we haven’t reached smut yet but it is coming I promise!!  

~All writing unless otherwise noted is my own. Please do not post or reupload my work to other websites without my express consent. I do not consent for my fics to be used in AI creations. I do not own any of the characters featured in my works unless they are stated to be OCs.~

All of my fanworks are intended for adults aged 18 and up only! Minors please DNI. ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48744160/chapters/123378907

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I wish the rocket stayed 

Over the promenade 

Cus I would make a hook and eye 

And fish them from the sky 

My darling she and i 

We’re hangin' on to take us high 

And sing the world goodbye

It had been almost a year since Bucky had returned to civilian life. He had joined the army, looking to serve his country, to make the world a better place and in doing so secure for himself a better future in a life that had fallen stagnant.  He was sent home halfway through his first tour of duty with an honorable discharge, several medals and awards for his acts of heroism, and one less arm for the troubles. Bucky sometimes wondered still if some of those rewards weren’t just “We’re sorry we blew your arm off” flattery, but he shrugged it off. They were gonna keep taking care of him, getting him into the best hospitals they could for treatment and rehabilitation from his injuries. The blast that took his arm would have killed his entire squadron if not for his fast actions - after saving a dozen lives it was the least they could do for him. Eventually, that meant getting him into a clinical trial for a new kind of prosthetic on the utmost cutting edge of technology. One that could fully articulate and respond to electrical impulses that controlled one’s nervous system, that could even simulate something resembling a sense of touch. It wasn’t difficult to sell the story of the war hero to get him into the clinical trials, and due to his excellent health, he was a perfect candidate for the experimental procedure. And though the surgeries left him with deep, jagged scars surrounding the connection where metal met flesh - it worked. It was celebrated as a second chance for a deserving man and as hope for a future where more people might be given their lives back after grievous injury.  Despite his unique circumstances that could have easily landed him in the public eye, Bucky kept a low profile. He had insisted on a certain degree of anonymity when partaking in the trial, avoided press and requests for interviews, and even took to wearing a tight-fitted pair of leather gloves and long-sleeved shirts to hide his arm from prying eyes.  He moved back to New York to try to reintegrate himself back into civilian life. Physical therapy and therapy therapy once a week, job training, cheap studio apartment in Brooklyn… His time in the army had changed him, leaving him with scars, and nightmares, jumping at loud noises and punching at shadows.  He could likely have used his connections to find some more gainful sort of employment, discharge or not, but… after the things he had seen, Bucky just couldn’t stomach the idea. Not so soon, at the very least. 

Still, the soldier worked on and off, odd jobs mostly, nothing with any sort of regularity. His mind and body were still healing, and the military pension he was on was enough to keep him comfortable, even if it was just making ends meet. He was just sort of… drifting, without any real cause or purpose. 

It didn’t seem as though anyone could reach him to pull him out of that darkness, though that didn’t stop his childhood best friend from trying, every chance he got.

“Come on, Buck. It’s been ages since you’ve gone out - just this once, humor me?” Steve asked, giving Bucky his best sad puppy dog face.  “M’ just tired, Stevie…” he muttered, unconvincingly, scrubbing a hand through his hair that was starting to grow out again.  “You’re a terrible liar.” “Am not.”  “You’re thinking about her again… aren’t you?” Bucky said nothing for a long moment before grunting in frustration and tossing a couch cushion at his slightly too persistent friend.  “Where’d ya get so damn insightful anyway?”  “Buck, it might surprise you to learn, but… you’re not a great liar. And you’re not the best at hiding your emotions, either. You know I’m always here if you need a shoulder to lean on, right?” “I know Steve. I know.”  “So, should I tell the guys you won’t be making it this time?” Bucky nodded, giving Steve an apologetic half-smile.  “Next time. I promise I’ll come out next time.” ——————

He’d hardly believed that you had accepted his request to join you, that you seemed to be expressing interest in a guy like him. You were different, he could tell just by looking at you - the way you dressed, the way you moved through the crowds, the way you seemed to observe the world around you with a more dedicated eye than most. You stood out in a subtle sort of way that intrigued him immediately.  It had been fortunate, in a strange way that he had been gawking at you when he had been - it’s the only reason you didn’t end up squished between the roof and the side of the building. 

Now that he had your company, he would do anything he could to keep it. 

Bucky had taken it upon himself to act as your tour guide since you had never been to Coney Island before. He talked up the history of the park, gave his suggestions for what rides were best, and in general went above and beyond to make sure you were enjoying your time there.  Coasters were your favorites, and Bucky, always fond of the more thrilling rides himself was all too happy to show them all to you. As time went on, he found himself taking your hand in his more often, under the guise of guiding you from place to place. He knew he was lying to himself, that in truth he just wanted to touch you, to feel that electric tingle each time your skin brushed his… but based on the way you clutched his hand in his, the way you sometimes chased his touch when he moved away from you, it seemed that you and he were on the same page. Conversations flowed easily, he talked about his life, and you talked about yours. He was truly blown away, hearing about all the places you had been, all the things you had done, and listened raptly to you every time you spoke. You left out the heavy stuff, of course, your history, your family… and while Bucky noticed, he wasn’t about to bring it up. It wasn’t his place to pry. He talked about his own life, his family, the interesting things he’d seen or done in all his years in the city. Sharing his love of literature and fiction, talking about his favorite sports teams or the swing dancing classes he had taken. He didn’t consider his life, or himself very interesting compared to you, all the things you’d done and exotic places you had been. Still, you gave him just as much focus as he gave you, and Bucky wondered once again just what you saw in him… but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Bucky remembered trying to convince you to ride the water rides - and you refusing as you hadn’t brought anything to change into. Eventually, though, the heat of the day had gotten to you, and with a boyish grin, he had dragged you to wait in line for their flume ride. The entire time it wound its way up the hill you were cursing silently under your breath, and he just laughed at the way your face scrunched up in annoyance.  “Has anyone ever told you how adorable you are when you’re annoyed?”  “Fuck you.” 

Your profanities only made him laugh harder - he swore he could hear an undertone of affection there, his chest swelling with warmth. You really were just too damn cute. As it made its final descent you grabbed him and tried to hide behind him looking to avoid being hit by the splash.  “Oh no you don’t!” he laughed, easily grappling you and wrestling you back in front of him just as the white spray flew up around you, drenching you both in cold, chlorinated water. “Ahhh, you bastard!” You had sputtered, frantically brushing the water out of your face. “Oh come on sweetheart… you didn’t think I was gonna let you miss out on the fun, didja?” He smirked.  “Mmm… you’re lucky you’re cute.” You dared to say, muttering it in frustration.  You couldn’t help but laugh, though as he helped you up to your feet and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, the two of you giggling all the way to the exit gates and beyond. He spent the next hour preening from your praise, and the next time he took your hand you held his tightly, stepping in closer to his side as you walked. For the rest of the day, any chance he could find your hand was in his, or his arm was slung lazily around your shoulders.  The sky was beginning to fade into twilight, the lights of the midway all coming on, the park a bright glowing presence to contrast with the darkening skyline when you, at last, found your way back to the games, having ridden everything at least once. He had insisted on trying to win one of the giant animal toys for you at the games - you explained to him how most of them were rigged to be deceptively difficult, but that didn’t dissuade him. In the end, he didn’t manage to win the giant dragon plush he was aiming for - but instead, you walked away with a surprisingly soft unicorn plush, all blues and purples and little spots of silver making its fur look like a sky just filling with stars.  

You had tried to play it cool when he was selecting a prize for you, but Bucky was observant enough to see your eyes continually flicking toward it, and he had the worker reaching out to grab one before you could muster a word of protest. Your singular muttered comment as you walked away about it being “too girly” made him smirk. He could bring up how he saw you hug it the moment he looked down to put his wallet away… but he decided to keep that piece of information to himself, for now. 

Not one to be outdone, you insisted on staying there on the midway until you had matched or bested him - and while in the end you did no better, by the time you were walking away, arm in arm he had a prize of his own clutched to his chest - a floppy white wolf plush made in the same style of yours. Was it stereotypical to cap off the day with a big, romantic Ferris wheel ride?  Maybe a little - but Bucky always had been a little traditional, at least when it came to romance. Sometimes cliches are cliche for a reason.  And as you rode the bucket up to the top to take in the surrounding view, you could see why he had insisted. You could see the whole park, the white sand beaches trailing off into the distance on either side of you.  On one side was the darkness of the sea, and on the other the twinkling lights of Brooklyn in the distance. It was beautiful… but not nearly as beautiful as you, he thought, watching your eyes light up with wonder at the scene. A burst of color from down the beach startled you both, and the two of you looked up in unison to see fireworks bursting in the night sky, high overhead. It wasn’t a holiday, as far as he knew - but he wasn’t about to complain, seeing your eyes light up at the colorful display overhead. He slid an arm around you, and you nestled into his side, wrapping both arms around his waist while Bucky willed his heart to stop beating so loudly in his chest. You were somewhere near the top when the ride came to a stop, just in time for the finale of the show, a final bright series of bursting golds and pinks and greens that lit the entire night sky. He looked over at you to find your eyes already on him. You looked so beautiful, and he had been holding himself back all day long… Bucky slid a hand up to your face to cup your cheek, gently lifting your head towards his. He felt his heart all but stop as you leaned into the touch, your eyes trailing back and forth between his eyes and his lips. He had to go for it - but he had to do it right.

“May I kiss you?” he whispered, and you responded with a small nod, already leaning in, as was he, pulled by a magnetism that neither of you could deny any longer. It was explosive, that first kiss, bursting in his brain just as the rockets burst in the sky above you. Your lips felt so soft against his, your grip around his waist tightening. His head was spinning when he broke away from you, far too soon for his liking as you were brought back down to the ground to disembark. He held you clutched tightly to his side as you wound your way back to the exit through a throng of people leaving as the voice over the loudspeaker announced that the park was closed.  Outside of the gates, you surprised him again, throwing your arms around his neck and leaning up for another kiss which he eagerly returned. “Come home with me…” you murmured against his lips, and his hands tightened on you in response, a heated sensation tugging at his stomach. “You sure, doll?” Your next kiss, hungry and full of promise was all the answer Bucky needed. He called for a cab and off the two of you went into the night.