#shame doesn't serve

[sparxaf]

Shame never serves, it's true. I'm not sure about cringe though. I think being comfortable in your skin and confident enough to let yourself be cringe sometimes DOES slay. But I definitely agree about fear. It's okay and normal to be afraid, but living in fear isn't cunty at all.

[uncanny-tranny]

Reminder for those who need it: fun is a human need - yes, you read right, a need. Fun as a concept will, of course, look different for everybody, but fun is a need. This is regardless of age. We conceptualize "fun" as something only children are allowed to do, that growing up is to ditch everything "fun" for practicality. Fuck that noise, you are alive. Fun is a need, you can (and should, even) treat "fun" as being just as important as sleep - so, something you build into your schedule wherever you want or can.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

*grabs the Vanguard Vaggie idea and scuttles back under her goblin rug*

OKAY BUT

Imagine, like after they retreat back to heaven, the other exorcists...start talking. They start talking *behind Lute's back*.

At first it's pain and bitterness and betrayal at Vaggie fighting them. 'How could she do this? How could she hurt us?!'

Then, maybe during some hit and run nonsense that Lute has them doing, the conversation shifts. They start noticing that Vaggie doesnt go for the kill unless she has to. Doesn't maim. She always gives them the chance to run, to go home... And they start talking. They talk about those better times with the Vanguard. They wonder aloud why she fights for hell. And maybe, just maybe, they talk about how they miss her. They miss Vaggie. They miss having that feeling of her looking out for them.

I wonder how long it might take for one of them to linger. To lower their weapon. To take off their mask.

Even then, it takes a long time for the first exorcist to *stay* after they should have retreated. For them to ask for a place to stay. But as more and more start to come to Vaggie, to the *Vanguard*, and ask for a home...charlie cant help but be grinning as she holds Vaggie's hand.

ayyyyeeeeeee!!!!

what if there was that slooooow realization that when Vaggie was around, their vanguard, they all felt more like a team together. she liked things done Right and done Well- wasn't bothered with competing- took training and exterminations Seriously- kept them all sharp sure but also turned something that was just Adam's shits and giggles, just a GAME, into a purpose and a duty again. something to be proud of and do their BEST at (while still having fun)

so yeah when Adam and Lute come back with her halo saying she's sided with hell, betrayed them all, damned herself and gets to rot there with them- there's that anger. oh they HATE her for doing that-

because they miss her

and things were better, they all felt better, when she'd been around, and that's gone now and it's her fault

or adam and lute say so anyway

can you IMAGINE in this au, the shift when Lute 1v1s Vaggie... and doesn't come back to heaven with her head?? DOESN't beat her? and Adam's DEAD?

and so are so many of them actually- dead exorcists that vaggie helped kill, that vaggie helped fight off

why?

three years her being in hell and she'd never fought any of them or hurt any of her sisters when they came flying down- (and she COULD have) (used to be one of the BEST after all) it's only when they're sent after her HOME that she fights, almost as if-

as if killing isn't what she wants to do anymore, if she can help it

thats. not the same as turning against them. not the same as her siding with hell- even so lute and adam still wanted her dead, and even then, she'd let lute LIVE...

is that weakness and betrayal?

but she's not weak, if lute couldn't kill her. and she never killed any of them until they came after her. is that still betrayal?

or is it something else

is there anything kind of betrayal here. are they on the wrong side of it...

im not sure, if any of them would take off a mask willingly- risk hell-

i KNOW that even ONE moment of hesitation would get lute turning on them, just like she did with vaggie- worse maybe, now very aware of the danger of letting fallen angels live- HER mistake, not killing vaggie when she had the chance all those years ago

and if a wounded and abandoned exorcist staggered to the gate's of the hazbin hotel? if some of her other sisters went looking for her- KNOWING this time what the supposed 'betrayal' and 'sin' had been?

(a moment of hesitation)

(before one of them drops her weapon to knock on the hotel door)

yeah. they'd find charlie running to help them inside. probably already pulling out bandages- a demon with first aid gear in her pockets, always carried just in case, nothing like they were expecting-

they'd find their Vangaurd waiting there too, having gone ahead and made things safe for them to follow, just like always

that'd be pretty sweet

[silusvesuius]

g*lmar rly has to be the best skajrim character on the real like even if you don't like him he just is . literally The best one i think......... on dat note i also imagine that he and ulfr*c despite being fairydust BFFs for lyfe genuinely have the worst communication skills ever seen

[abrillustrated]

literally as Soon as i left my boyfriends apartment this morning i got hit on. like dude. guys dont walk around looking disheveled with a pillow imprinted on their faces at noon just because 😭

[cepheusgalaxy]

ughhhhhhhhhhh why am i so prone to complaining

[autistichalsin]

Periodic rent-lowering-gunshots:

Fiction is not reality.

You can enjoy things in fiction that would be awful in the real world. Like playing a murderhobo in a game! In the real world, being or supporting a murderer-thief would be pretty damn awful, while in the game it's just good fun. Same with anything else you choose to do with the pixels on the screen, like kinks that don't affect anyone real, so they're okay in fiction, but would be pretty damn bad in real life.

No one else is responsible for your online experience. They are required not to harass you, but they are not and never will be obligated to not post about ships, kinks, or tropes you dislike just to avoid you seeing them. It's up to you to blacklist words or phrases, block tags, or even block users as needed to avoid seeing content that upsets you.

No one can force you to read anything against your consent. Any content you don't like seeing can be instantly avoided by closing out of the offending post/fic.

You are not owed an online experience free of discomfort.

Nothing that happens in your imagination can ever make you a bad person. Words you write or read about fictional characters will never make you a bad person.

The claim that media consumption influences real-life behavior is intellectually dishonest and serves only to excuse the behavior of real offenders.

Fiction is a safe way to explore horrifying or confusing concepts. Therapists agree that fiction, even (or especially) about taboo topics is a good coping mechanism, especially, but not exclusively, for trauma survivors. Fiction is to adults what play therapy is to children. This doesn't stop being true if the work in question is of a sexual nature.

Sex isn't an inherently worse or better motivation than anything else. A work written to create feelings of arousal isn't dirty, shameful, or in any way less pure than works written to entertain, provoke moral questions, or for other reasons. And worth noting is that multiple purposes can exist in the same story, especially fanfiction.

You aren't entitled to an explanation for why someone reads, writes, or otherwise enjoys certain works, kinks, tropes, ships, etc.

[grungekitty-77]

My post got traction again. Help. My notes have some rancid takes again!

[rememberedbyamark]

I know it's not forever with him and I've known that since the first month of talking to him, but like....it's suddenly very clear to me that we exist only as a temporary bubble of time in each other's life and could not possibly be permanent. There's no version of the future where we make it, that doesn't exist.

Not because either of us have some fundamental personal issue, but because i will never understand the deepest part of him and he will never be able to reach that part of me.

It sounds crazy to stay together when I put it like that. He means so much to me and it does not matter, so why would I do that to myself? You see though, I want this bubble of time so bad that I will burn for it. I want the texts, laughs, secret looks, hidden touches, late night conversations, sex, waking up in his arms, forehead kisses, and history lessons. I want all of it so bad and I can have it! I can have it, and I can have him in my life and he can have me in his, and we can do all of that until the end. We'll be a bad movie montage of young reckless people, and I want every single part of it until the credits roll.

I'll hate myself when it's over but I don't think I'll ever hate him. I think it would've ended that way anyway though

[teethcore]

guy i was trying to be friends with who completely ignored me and brushed me off when i shared something vulnerable has sent me this long paragraph about some stuff he's dealing with in his life rn and every time i see the preview of the unread message i see red.

[genderkoolaid]

as someone with ARFID i really couldn't care less about the distinction between "picky eaters" and "genuine eating issues." if you are an asshole to someone you see as "just picky" i will never, ever trust you. i've lived through the trauma of being shamed and humiliated for my eating needs.

frankly i think a LOT of "picky eaters" have some kind of sensory problems– autistic or allistic– and shame is never useful. i don't fucking care how annoying you think we are. if you've never lived through the humiliation of being the only one not eating at a dinner table, or having to choke down something disgusting you already know you hate because other people insist you don't know your own body, or getting a hunger migraine in a house full of food because none of its edible to you? you don't understand how awful it is to have food issues.

whenever i see people draw this distinction between being "just a picky eater" and "having a real problem" all i think is, who does this serve? most people don't even know ARFID exists. there are so many undiagnosed autistics, or just people with a variety of issues that aren't officially diagnosed. why do we need a medical label in order to be treated with respect and compassion? why did i need to be diagnosed as autistic for my family to realize the abuse they put me through for years because of my eating habits?

it's such an easy habit for neglected groups to fall into– the idea that a medical diagnosis can save us. that by appealing to the medical/psychiatric industry, we can be protected from abuse and given basic respect and resources. but the truth is that it should never have come to this in the first place. dignity doesn't come from an abled doctor telling you that there's a medical reason for your symptoms. it comes from being a person. once you accept that you need a Good Reason to have your needs respected, you doom yourself to neglecting and abusing those who have your same struggles because they aren't lucky enough to access medical recognition.

tl;dr solidarity with all "picky eaters" stop guilting people for having varying food needs, if we make you irrationally angry that's YOUR problem not ours, and abolish "children's menus" & replace them with simple-food menus for people of all ages

[edgarallen-foe]

i got in a lot of fights in school. it wasn't until i really hurt someone that i realized i'm a big guy who doesn't have to try very hard to do a lot of damage, and i have to try even less to scare people. i'm big, and strong, and loud. my presence is enough to threaten. i don't like it, don't like hurting people, so i stopped. when i hit james, i let him goad me into doing something i didn't want to do. his broken nose wasn't a victory. it didn't feel good. it felt like i was being ruled over. it was scary. for a second, i thought i'd killed him. i don't think i'll ever forget that.

[uncanny-tranny]

Actually it's pretty fucked up that other people's only concerns about skin conditions like acne is "be glad you don't ACTUALLY look like that" or "it's so hard to look at [you]"

This applies doubly so for people who have disabilities, such as mobility aids or prosthetics. Beauty culture is a fucking poison.

[terven--godess]

I've developed so much fatigue over online radfem spaces to be honest, like yeah I still align with the politics and I don't think that'll ever really change, but I'm at a point where I can't get over the inaction of online political spaces…not saying that there's none of this happening but, we have to organize, we have to venture into the material world. There's risks that have to be discussed and addressed sure but there's more risk to staying silent & also strength in numbers. Being crypto is reasonable, but how can we move forward? These are things that need to seriously be considered for any sort of real societal shift or activism to happen, or even for us to just have irl connections which are so, so invaluable and so different from digital ones. The notion that women somehow "ruin" men's happiness through their interests and passions is a projection of men's own insecurities. From making fun of female-dominated hobbies to invalidating their emotional experiences, many men seek to undermine what women value. This pattern of behavior reflects a deeper discomfort with allowing women their own agency, especially when it doesn't align with traditional male ideals of what's important or worthy of respect. Instead of uplifting women, these actions serve to keep them in a subordinate position. Feminist fatigue with online spaces stems from the lack of real-world action. While digital platforms have allowed for the spread of feminist ideas, many activists feel that the movement has stalled. Without organizing in physical spaces, there is a risk that feminist discourse will remain theoretical and disconnected from the tangible change needed to challenge oppressive systems. Reproductive violence is a widespread form of control used by men, religious institutions, and governments to limit women's autonomy. Through the denial of birth control or abortion access, women are forced into unwanted pregnancies or childbirth, reinforcing male control over female bodies. The way internalized misogyny often manifests within certain marginalized groups is striking. frieza: Im derpy, but even I wouldnt crimb LIC. Me:

LIC…DIK…KIB… All sleping. Why is Donkey Kongs banana horde always full of sklebby Super Saiyan Forms? Go to Links kitchen of shame, and dont look back.

[poguehearted77]

Hi!! I saw that your requests were open and I'm a big fan of your work and I was wondering if you could write something for rafe where reader is a pogue and they need to steal something from tanney hill but Rafe comes home unexpectedly and reader is supposed to distract him but they end up fucking >.< tyyy!!!

Oooh this is freaky. I love it.

My requests are still open.

smut!! -> >.<, penetrative sex, rafe gets flashed, dom! rafe, missionary, size kink, tummy bulge, rafe doesn't pull out..

In and out. That was the plan you and Sarah had agreed on. She would search through the office while you guarded the halls to make sure the coast remained clear.

Things got complicated. Plans changed when Sarah realized that Rafe had taken the liberty to add locks onto the cabinets where the files are kept. Your heartbeat drummed through your ears as you noticed the flash of headlights from Rafe's truck shine through the glass windows.

"Shit. Sarah, Rafe's back early. ETA on the files?" you panic, scurrying through the tiles halls until your feet take you into the office where the blonde crouched, picking the lock with a bobby pin. "I've almost got it. Distract Rafe, keep him as far from here as possible."

Your legs carried you as fast as they could, hoping to meet him outside the front door but he was already inside, your head bumping into his firm chest at full force, sending you tumbling to the ground. "Holy shit. What the-" He's mid-curse when he notices the face of the intruder. Your face.

"Y/n? What the hell are you doing in here?" His thoughts beat your lips to the answer as they geared the possibilities. His jaw locks as it dawns on him, "Where's Sarah, huh? Is she in here? You helping her steal from me now too?"

His steps are powerful as they begin to clear the premises but you desperately grab onto his bulging biceps. "No, Rafe! Stop." Not expecting him to obey so easily, he whips around, startling you.

Just over his shoulder, you see Sarah's head peek out of the office. She gives a wave with the needed files in hand. You had to make sure Rafe didn't turn around, at all costs.

"I thought you were different, y'know? I always thought you were too good to be hangin' with those pogues-" He's about to turn around while Sarah sneaks out the back. You do the first idiotic thing that comes to mind. Your fingers are hooking under the fabric of your top and heaving upwards to flash him your tits.

His sentences break off into chopped, undecided stutters and his hands slowly reach for your round mounds. His hands were hesitating until you gave him a slight nod. "H-holy shit. Most fuckin' perfect pair of tits I've ever seen." His mind is racing to catch up with his hands that gently massage your breasts and you let out a soft moan.

That's the last time either of your clothes were still draped across your bodies. The interaction was quickly followed by uncalculated steps and heated kisses toward the couch where he'd laid you down and fucked you dumb.

"You feel that?" Rafe relishes in the depths of your soaked cunt that sucked in his generous length. Summoning him to a state of bliss, serving a sentence he wished would last the rest of his lifetime.

His hand is placed arrogantly on your lower abdomen where the outline of his girth could be seen pushing up against your insides. Surely, the question is rhetorical as you'd been reduced to a whimpering mess under his touch.

"My dick's splittin' you open. You fuckin' like that shit?" His hips snap, and you squeal, your whole body jolting with every moment of his much bigger one. The sight of you beneath him was more than enough to get him riding along the edge of ecstasy.

"You got the best fuckin' pussy on the island, goddamnit." His lower lip is tucked between hiss teeth, doing his best to hold himself back.

Rafe wouldn't deny any allegations of previously imagining having you in this very position, but the reality puts the products of his imagination to great shame. "R-rafe!" You moan, unbelievably turned on by your 'sworn enemy'.

"Yeah-- shit. Me too." It's not long before his thrusts begin to falter with strained grunts but added force, and he cums not long after you do. He slowly pulls out, admiring the stringy white cum that kept you connected before he realizes what he's done.

"Rafe..." You slowly sit up, dreading the consequences of his actions. "Fuck--I know, shit. I jus' got so caught up- and your pussy jus' felt so good. I wasn't thinking straight." You're both scavenging to get your clothes on as he rambles on.

He reaches into his back pocket and grabs a wad of cash, "Go get a plan B, and we can both act like this never happened, okay?" With a cold gaze, you pocket the money before rushing outside where the Twinkie is waiting for you around the corner out of sight.

"Y/n! Oh my god what took you so long? We thought Rafe had done something to you." Sarah gasps once you finally pull open the doors of the van. Your head shakes, "Nothing. Just Rafe being Rafe, let's go."

[shotmrmiller]

(secret lovers but simon will not be kept a secret.)

you hadn't liked him from the get go. amongst the regulars that frequent the place you work at serving drinks, had been him; a burly, massive figure that commanded attention even though his clothes were nondescript and blended into the shadows created by the sickly, flickering lights overhead. his broad shoulders were squared, imposing, the fabric of his faded jeans stretched taut over his knees, tapering down to his scuffed sneakers.

him appearing a menace isn't what made him stand out. it doesn't even make him special, to be honest. one too many rowdy oafs call this hole in the wall a haven, seeking solace at the bottom of a thick glass.

it's the very air around him. it's heavy, muted, as if absorbing sound and movement. that one time you had the displeasure of personally handing him an beer, it'd felt suffocating, pressed down on you, made it hard to breathe. the stillness had been almost palpable, the usual hum of the bar nought but a distant buzz, even the clank of the chilled glass on the table had seemed muffled.

you'd felt the drink slosh over the rim in your haste to get away, retreat, escape. he hadn't even glanced your way and you'd been overwhelmed.

fucking hell.

and that's not the worst of it. the way he looks at people is unsettling. his beady eyes glint with a manic, rabid hunger, fixated on any bare legs that come into his field of view, as if he sees nothing but prey. that turns the discomfort that pricks at your skin into disgust.

revolting bull of a man is a pervert to boot.

(sometimes he comes in with others, 3 much more approachable, charismatic men that pop that personal bubble of oppressive silence he brings with him with their boisterous laughter and lively chatter. they're good folk except for when they want to act like your eyes are on your chest.)

so it's a true shame you spent weeks snarking about how foul he is when he's one of the best lays you've ever had in your life. (and continues to be.)

it's all discreet, of course. you can't be caught having a thing with the man you'd cursed up, down and sideways because he wouldn't stop staring at the tits you let him come on that same week.

you wouldn't even know how to explain how all of this started. that'd he'd been a surprised you and strong armed a belligerent drunk off the property for you a while back? that he'd happened to be around when your car got a flat, pulled out a jack from the bed of his truck and told you to sit your 'pretty arse' inside while he changed it? or that after the nth night of him being the very last patron, you realized he'd only leave after you were done with restocking and ready to close up shop?

you kept it all of it on the down low. pretended you couldn't feel his eyes on you, boring holes into the side of your head while at work then garble out his name through the fingers you're drooling over after work.

and it stayed that way for a while. he never stayed longer than you let him (not like that meant anything, he barely let you out the bed to pick up the door dash before he sat you on the countertop and lapped at your sore cunt until you came.)

he rarely used his phone so there was no worry about sudden texts while you had friends around.

it seemed a fine thing at the time. but then he started sitting at the bar top instead of his usual corner haunt, occasionally calling you over with a curl of his fingers (the ones he had you lick clean last night.) he stopped being a total lech, keeping his eyes glued onto you and you only, being so blatant about it that your co-workers offered to walk you to your car later.

embarrassing. you'd meant to give him a talk about laying off the intensity of his stare but it slipped your mind when he slipped into you from behind while fisting your hair.

when your boss is the one that gives you the stranger danger talk, even though you have said strangers love bites mottling the junction of your shoulder, you decide that enough is enough. so after your shift, you ask to speak with him.

only to have him snort in your face.

"don't think so."

before you get to say anything else, he's sitting you on the hood of his truck, legs hooked over his shoulders, eye level with your bare pussy because he'd stuffed your knickers into his pocket before work.

the first glide of his tongue between your folds is deliberately slow, tip catching the bundle of nerves at the top. your palm stings from digging your nails into it.

the second sends a shiver licking up your spine, his hands dimpling the soft of your thighs to keep you from squirming.

"look at me."

your body reacts instinctively at the low, grating tone of his voice and you're peering down at him before your mind can even catch up.

he nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "best get used to 'avin' me 'round." this was no conversation.

the tips of his fingers grazing over your wet heat, gently prodding the entrance. when he sinks them in, scissoring, thrusting, you realize he's not going to let you come.

this isn't a reward. this is about to be your punishment.

slick glistens on his knuckles under the streetlight as he undoes the zipper of his jeans, the sound of the metal teeth deafening in your prickling ears.

simon puts his hand close to your mouth like he's done in the bedroom, and you spit on it, like you've done in the bedroom.

the searing (but oh so good) burn is both familiar and not when you take him to the root, a shuddering breath escaping your quivering lips at the sensation of him filling you until the seams feel like they're becoming undone.

he lowers his head to nose your sweat-slick temple, large hands flat by your sides. his breaths warm your throat as he speaks.

"i won't be your dirty little secret, pet."

a hand creeps up to the nape of your neck, claiming a fistful of hair. simon pulls a sibilant hiss from you when he tugs hard enough to ache.

ouch.

"can't shove me in a closet and pocket the key." he rolls his hips once, twice before widening his stance.

oh.

oh no.

"now be good and let me take what's mine."

there'd been no arguing with him before he fucked you in earnest, and certainly not after when he takes you home, spend dripping onto his seat on the way there, where he makes you ride him on the driveway, only letting you go inside once he felt he got his message across.

(message understood.)

the next morning you wake to sore thighs, a throbbing pussy, a dry mouth and a text from your boss.

i've got cameras outside the place, by the way. go home next time.

at least you didn't get fired 🥴