#sorry for this long ass rant it could have been worse

[localgardenweed]

Im in a constant war with myself on changing my persona cause i wanna get a haircut this summer cause little fact i have wavy/curly hair and i always struggle to maintain it cause i dont have the energy to brush it when its long and its hard for me to wash it properly cause im stupid as fuck so i wanna chop it Dora style maybe get some form of those curtain bangs of my dreams or like a thin block bang thing going on, o used to have a thick ass full one as a kid but it kept poking my face so we had to cut it. Which also sucks cause I HAVE A SENSITIVE FACE I used to cry if my parents put too much lotion on me at a time i have to be dry, my body is a dessert but my face wants to be soft so we had to do it in layers. For this im and constantly peer reviewed for autism by my autistic friends. Also on my hairline i have “baby” hairs and dude when you meet me irl or hell dig deep enough online or just ya know look thru a few of my tiktoks idk though if its noticeable but MY HAIR LIKE SHOOTS OUT ITS FORMABLE. I dont know how to describe it or hell take care of cause it wont stay down it always dries quick and sticks out after a few hours. The only way to tame it is by soaking it and shaping it cause like i made a Lupin Cosplay and i needed that hair tamed so i soaked it in water and conditioner and curled it around my fingers and let it dry and had to constantly rewet and recurl all day

IF I DONT DO SHIT TO IT I COME HOME FROM SCHOOL LOOKING LIKE THIS

ITS EMBARRASSING ITS AGONIZING ITS SHITTY WHY WHY WHYYYY When i was going into middle school i fully believed i was gonna start getting out right bullied for that but no i got a bit of that up and coming psychological bullying but i was so fucking stupid to notice and usually just didn’t get it or noticed it immediately and just pushed through. Victim of the Oreo Game ✊. Holy shit ive been getting so off track with this post BACK TO THE PERSONA THING. So yeah if i change it i wanna like shop off her hair go Dora Style OR a very tiny itty bitty ponytail. Maybe add more hairclips to her hair cause im getting back into those to calm the demon “baby” hairs, it kinda works it saves me from looking crazy at work but the issue is i weirdly have more hair on one side that the other so they always slip and slide and look uneven at the end of the shift. But in drawings that doesn’t have to happen!!! I like a-lot of star clips cause im a loser and gold cause il a gold gurly idc if it doesn’t make my skin tone or anything I DO WHAT I WANT, i was predestined gold with my earrings i basically popped out the womb with and i will stay gold IMMMA STAY GOLD JOHNNY PONYBOY STAYING GOLD. Also may give a her a new outfit cause shes had a new outfit the persona i have in my intro is a little old cause now she wears jeans and sneakers instead of sweatpants and combat boots which i still wear i live and breathe in sweatpants but my persona doesn’t have as much sensory issues so she gets to wear whatever. I can wear jeans jut not certain ones or i die and kill myself. I wanna experiment and maybe give her seasonal outfits too but idk i just UGHH i need her to be the epitome of swag. SWAGGGG swag.

[thebearer]

what about reader coming to the restaurant before family cause she had a bad day and carmen was pissed off about something wrong that happened but when he sees you looking up at him pouting, his demeanor switches so fast

"Fuck, Richie, can you quit fuckin' with me!" Carmen roars, slinging the bowl with a hard shove.

"Cousin, I'm not doin' shit to you, alright?" Richie seethes, rolling his eyes as the other chefs- the new hires- avoid eye contact. Carmen doesn't act erratically often, tried not to for his reputation's sake, but today was a bad day.

"Hey, cousin, you need to chill the fuck out, alright? Get it out of your fuckin' system now before dinner rush because those people," Richie pointed through the window, where there was an empty dining room- for now. It would be filled by six o'clock. "Will fuckin' see you actin' like a jagoff."

"I wouldn't act like a fuckin' jagoff if you would do what I fuckin' ask you to!" Carmen roared, eyes bulging and vein by his neck protruding.

"Hey, relax, alright." Richie grit, breathing deeply out his nose. "Go fuckin' take a break. We got it. Go see your girl or somethin'. Get that stress out, for fucksake."

"The fuck are you talkin' about-"

"Your girl has been in your office for this past twenty minutes while you were actin' like a moron." Richie snapped, Carmen's demeanor suddenly faltering. "Yeah, get embarrassed, cousin. She heard all that shit."

"Just- shut the fuck up, alright? Fuck you." Carmen huffed, stomping towards the office.

"Don't fuck me. Go fuck her. Get some of that fuckin' attitude out, holy shit." Richie snarled, rolling his eyes.

Carmen ignored him, walking through the door of the office. You sat at his desk, mindlessly scrolling though your phone, barely looking up when he walked in. "I swear to God, Richie's a fuckin' pain in my ass." Carmen started in, ignoring your solemn expression. "Fuckin' wise ass. Thinks he knows fuckin' everything, and you know what? He- What's the matter with you?" Carmen stopped his ranting and pacing, skidding to a stop to look at you. Your sad eyes and long face.

"Nothin'." You muttered, looking up at Carmen gently. "What did Richie do?"

Carmen shook his head, sitting on the desk in front of you. "Not important. Tell me what's wrong, hm? What's goin' on?"

You faltered for a moment, deciding to shake your head and ignore your emotions. "It's nothing, Carm-"

"-You're lyin' to me." Not a question, a fact. Carmen's raised brow to you that. "Why are you lyin' to me?"

"I'm not, it's just..." The shaky breath you took in, a strangled, watery gasp had Carmen's heart lurching. "I just had a really bad day." You hated the way your voice cracked, wobbling and wavering with emotions. You'd cried all the way here, the freshness of the tears coming back to you again, flooding your waterline.

"What happened, baby?" Carmen's tone dropped into a coo, a soothing balm over your teary demeanor.

"It's just... I don't know, I felt like I couldn't get anything right today, and-and I just... I'm really tired." You admitted with a small quake in your tone. "I just want this day to be over."

"Did someone say something to you?" You'd bitched a few times about a coworker making off handed remarks to you, and Carmen was more than happy to say something to him. He didn't mind at all, insisted on it, in fact.

"No, it wasn't Toby." You rolled your eyes at the mention of him. "He wasn't bad today, actually, which made it worse. I just, I don't know, my mind was all over the place today and I-I'm just stressed."

"I'm sorry, baby." Carmen rasped, hand on yours, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

"It's ok." You pouted, exhaling deeply. "I just want to go home and not have another fucking thought for the rest of the day.

"Wish I could help you with that." Carmen grinned, playfully, proud to see that you smirked, shaking your head at him. "'m serious. You need me to do anything?"

"No." You shook your head. "I'm starving, so I'm gonna eat and then go home. Sit in the bath until I dissolve." You grin lightly up at him.

Carmen smiled, leaning over to kiss you sweetly, hands cupping your face, tasting the saltiness of your tears still lingering on your lips. "Are you hungry now? I can get you somethin' to eat real quick, baby. What do you want?"

"No, Carmy, I'll be alright-"

"Hey, Marcus," Carmen was sticking his head out already. "You got any focaccia ready?"

"Yes, Chef, I have a few prepped-"

"-Gimme one, please. Thanks, Marcus." Carmen nodded, taking the bread, and passing it over to you.

You frowned at him. "I was fine, Carmy. Could've waited until family." You pouted, but you were already tearing the bread basket open, mouth watering at the sight.

Carmen grinned. "I know, but I don't want you to go hungry. Had to taste tonight anyways. Tell me what you think." He muttered, watching you tear off a piece.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

are you ever going to continue the buddy daddies series? There’s barely any Yandere buddy daddies content and less platonic Yandere buddy daddies

anyways I got an idea lol so it’s been a couple months and reader is bored and they really want to go outside not essentially escape just go outside and one day is perfect her dads are out on a business trip and they won’t be back till the next day the only problem is Miri it’s the weekend and reader is on baby sitting duty good for reader Miri is a child and the promise of ice cream she’ll keep quiet but the problem comes when readers on her walk she spots a puppy and makes the mistake of staring at it to long so the dog gets attached and follows them back home and to make it worse Miri saw the dog and now she has to figure out how to get rid of the dog before there dads come home but Miri is now obsessed

sorry for this long ass rant and the horrible grammar

You're absolutely fine, Love! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

New Addition | Platonic Yandere Buddy Daddys x Teen Delinquent Reader

I love the idea that you just so happen to have this trait about you that has helplessly weak and clingy little creatures gravitating towards you

And it just sucks that you have this dog constantly following you 

After your elaborate plan to have Miri sleep for just a couple hours

You hate to admit that it’s not so bad living with the weirdos in their fancy condo

ignoring Miri and the occasional smothering

But you can be sure that your fairly peaceful life is going to get a lot more hectic if you come home with this dog

You didn’t mind as you visited some of your old hangout spots and your other runaway buddies you could find

But it is a problem as your four hours of freedom is ending and this dog hasn’t stopped trailing after you

Undeterred by your hopping fences and scaling buildings

The stray pup is incredibly determined

Eventually relenting to sit eagerly on the doorstep of the condo

“Get outta here you crazy mutt!”

“*Yawn* (Y/n) where’d you go I was looking all over for–PUPPY!”

With just enough luck you might be able to convince Miri and the happy pup to get inside and pretend you didn’t leave the house for hours

“Where did you get that?! A Puppy?!”

“Well I–”

“(Y/n) found her and brought her home! Her name is Cupcake!” 

Rei puts it together immediately and is more angry that you left

Kazuki on the other hand is pulling at his hair because the puppy is already chewing at the carpet

Rei-papa is going to try and interrogate you about your little outing

But he’ll be unsuccessful because Kazuki and Miri desperately need your help to bathe and clean this rowdy puppy

When Kazuki and Rei are finally able to get Miri and Cupcake to sleep 

Rei’s finally able to interrogate you but after seeing how helpless they were when the puppy was awake you figure you’ll have some leverage

“Sure you can lock the doors and ban me from leaving…but I hope you’ll be happy living in this place when it’s covered in dog pee.”

“WHAT!?”

“Cupcake is an unpotty-trained puppy, who needs to be walked often to avoid accidents. You two work a majority of the time so it’ll be my job buuutt if you’d rather I stay inside–?”

“No! No! I will not have Cupcake destroy everything in our home!”

“Grrrr.”

You just have to play the game with these two 

And a puppy is a variable that’s plenty confusing 

[iitsarss]

╰ㅤ₊ㅤ๋࣭ㅤreader x gr13f3r　 old friend　᠀

ꔛ word count: 834 or smth⠀╱⠀established friendship (?) 。

(¬_¬")⠀⠀⠀note ⠀╱⠀kms yall ive been soo unmotivated + school be kicking my ass,, plus not been on my best recently. request for anon hope u dislike it!!/J no but actually sorry this is shit,, I like making griefer a nervous mess that’s cute..anyways byee

When his dad had said, “We’re going to visit an old friend,” Griefer thought they’d end up at some elderly guy’s house, maybe some high school buddy his dad hadn’t seen in years. What he didn’t expect was to walk in and see… you.

He stood there, staring at you, frozen for a couple of seconds. And then he realized you were staring right back, which somehow made it worse. Awkward. But he couldn’t look away. Those eyes… you’d changed a lot since he’d last seen you. The quiet kid he remembered was gone, and in their place was someone he barely recognized but felt he’d known forever.

Your mom was still as sweet as ever, just like he remembered, chatting away with his dad like they’d never stopped. Even when you all sat down in the living room, they kept on, talking and laughing like they had endless stories to catch up on. Occasionally, your mom would ask Griefer a question or two, and he’d stammer out a reply, nerves on edge. And when his dad and your mom got up to make some tea, leaving the two of you alone in the room, the silence grew thick. It felt impossible to start a conversation—it was never this hard before.

Memories flooded back. You two had met when you were just six years old. He’d liked you right from the start; you were a good friend, someone he could count on to sit with at school, to meet up with after class. He remembered the way you’d climb trees together, daring each other to go higher. He remembered how you’d get quiet and a little shy whenever he brought his friends around. He remembered you almost getting expelled together on the first day of high school.

But what he remembered most was not wanting to let you go the day you left. You’d both cried, clinging to each other as you got in the car to leave town, and he could still feel the ache from that day, the hollow feeling that settled in his chest. You hadn’t told him why you were leaving, but he knew you were going to miss him just as much as he was going to miss you.

It had taken him a long time to get used to you being gone. And now here you were, right in front of him again. Taking a deep breath, he finally blurted out, “S0? H0W’VE Y0U BEEN..?”

The words tumbled out awkwardly, and he immediately cursed himself. Was that too casual? Should he have said something else? Something deeper? But his internal ranting stopped the moment you answered with a simple, “Fine.”

"Fine?" he thought. Was that a “fine!” with excitement, or just a flat “fine”? Damn, he was overthinking every little thing, and he hated it. But then the conversation found its rhythm, and soon, he was laughing with you again like no time had passed at all. He forgot how easy it was to talk to you, how natural it felt. He told you about his life—maybe not the whole Venomshank thing, and he left out the endless hours gaming—but he filled you in on enough to say he was “doing fine.” And he listened to your stories, dropping little jokes here and there just to make you laugh. God, he’d missed that laugh, the way it lifted at the edges, the way your smile always seemed to reach your eyes, making them light up.

Before he knew it, hours had passed. Time flew by with you, and he barely realized he had to leave until your mom was gently ushering everyone out the door. But, luck was on his side: she’d arranged to meet again next week.

Later, as he sat on the stairs that led to your house, you sat beside him, still smiling from the day. “IT’S B33N- UH, G00D T4LKING TO Y0U, Y’KN0W? W3 SH0ULD S33 EACH 0TH3R MOR3 0FT3N.”

You chuckled, giving him a playful look. “You missed me, huh? I missed you, too.” He felt his throat go dry at that, coughing to hide his embarrassment as he looked away.

“Y34H… 1 DID. M1SS3D MY FR13ND.”

...

When Griefer finally got back home after the long drive, he went straight to his room, kicked off his shoes, jacket, and shirt, and crashed onto his bed. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the day in his mind. He’d had so much fun, laughed more than he had in months. He’d missed that—missed you. Maybe he’d forgotten just how much he’d liked you back then.

As his thoughts drifted into more dangerous, cheesy territory, he rolled over, burying his face in his pillow, kicking his feet a little like an embarrassed kid. The feeling was undeniable, and it made his heart beat a little faster. He missed you—he really missed you.

And he knew it, especially from the way his heart skipped a beat every time he pictured your smile.

[s-u-g-a-r-rush1997]

Could you do turbo x reader where reader is a background racer from turbo-Time?

I kind of got a bit carried away with this one just a bit. I enjoyed writing it too much, maybe. It's not angsty, per say, but it's kind of a little sad. I tried to write it with a more romantic pairing, but it kind of came out as an unrequited crush.

Sorry, Turbo's too focused on Roadblasters and is fucking oblivious.

Pairing: Turbo x reader

Rating: safe for work

Warnings: None, though Turbo is kind of an ass in this one What else is new

Turbo-Time background racer reader and Turbo

If the Turbo twins were a pair, then you and Turbo were too, just with opposing dynamics. Or, well, you’d like to think so. You did share his colors, after all – though perhaps that was more a product of a limited color palette than anything.

Where the twins were programmed to be identical, to have the exact same level of skill when it came to racing, you and Turbo had an opposing dynamic. That is to say, while Turbo’s skill in racing was excellent, yours left something to be desired. You were, quite literally, designed to fail. A third place prize isn’t a prize at all if there’s no one worse off – it’s just last place.

Perhaps that’s why he was so attached to you. It seemed counterintuitive at first glance; he was so full of himself, so confident in his popularity and skill, that associating with someone who was designed to have none seemed beneath him. But you weren’t a rival like the twins. Sure, Turbo was programmed to be the best, but during the opening hours of the arcade, his skill was dependent entirely on the player. While an awful player could mean a victory for one of the Twins, it meant nothing for you.

So you were his only companion; by his choice, of course. It clearly had nothing to do with how insufferable people thought he was. How loudly he talked. How he craved attention more than anything.

You hated to admit it – you didn’t want to think of him that way – but you were starting to see why people thought that.

“I don’t understand,” he’d shouted the moment the arcade closed for the night, “I’m the greatest racer this arcade has ever seen. Why would anyone want to play Roadblasters?” The name was spat from his tongue like it was something sour and unpleasant.

You sighed and leaned against the side of his car, tired. You’d heard this rant repeated over and over for the past three days now. Even still, you listened, draping an arm across his back and pulling him close.

You squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “They just want to see the new game, that’s all.”

This jealousy would pass, just as it always did. He was more worked up than you’d ever seen him, but it would all be okay in the end. He’d go back to his normal self. Soon, you’d be back to hanging out at Tappers. Maybe he’d show you more of his drawings he so carefully hid from everyone else. Maybe he’d take you for a ride in his Kart – you hadn’t done that together for a long time now.

“They’ve already seen it!” Turbo argued, arms flailing wildly, shattering the illusion, “it’s been days now. More than long enough! Roadblasters isn’t new anymore. Players should be coming back here by now.”

You catch his wrist, and his attention, wrapping his hand in your own. “The players love you, Turbo.” He laces his fingers with yours. His palm is a little sweaty, but you don’t mind.

He grins wildly, his lips pulled back so far it almost looked more like a grimace. “Of course they do!”

“Of course they do,” you repeat, smiling warmly, “you’re the greatest racer in the whole arcade, you said so yourself.” He preens under the praise. “So, let’s just forget about them, at least for tonight.”

Turbo grits his teeth. His fingers dig into your hand just a bit too firmly to feel comfortable. He sucks his teeth with a hiss. Just when you think he’s going to start arguing again he, somehow, manages to bite his tongue.

“How about one last race?” he finally offers with that same wild, grimace of a smile.

“You’ll just lap me!” you argue. But there’s no bite in your words. You don’t actually mind losing.

Turbo looks at you with this stupid, arrogant smirk – but it’s a genuine smile. It meets his eyes, and they crinkle at the edges. “You’re just a sore loser.”

“Fine,” you scoff, “one last race."

You adjust the straps of your helmet. You rev your engine loudly as the countdown begins. And for good measure you turn to look at him.

“Eat my dust, Turbo!” you call out to him, just before you speed off together. You don’t get much time to look at him, but he was smiling. Brows furrowed, lips pulled back almost as if he was snarling. And he cackles when he passes you. It’s no surprise when he does lap you. Of course he boasts. But you don’t mind. He’s happy. He’s forgotten Roadblasters.

And maybe come morning, when the arcade opens and players come flooding in, his rivalry would stay forgotten.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

I see the post about the Master(s) caring for a sick reader and raise you: reader having to care for sick Master(s)

if you think they're a lot to handle before just wait until they have the timelord equivalent of the flu kicking their ass

The reader taking care of the Masters when they're sick

Characters included: Simm, Missy/Gomez, and Dhawan

Warnings: being sick (obviously), pretty sure that's it

Simm! Master

He's not sick, he can't be sick. He's a Timelord, and Timelords don't get sick

That's what he insisted to you over and over again, but it was a bit hard to take him seriously with how nasally and congested he sounded

At first he wants you to leave him alone (because he's not sick, thank you very much) but once it becomes clear whatever he's got isn't going away anytime soon he very begrudingly allows you to care for him

Acts like he wants to be left alone but then whines very loudly if you're gone for too long, so you're basically stuck watching him the entire time

He has terrible manners in general, which are made even worse when he doesn't feel good, so don't expect him to say please or thank you unless you press him for it

Complains about something every two minutes without fail. He's cold, so you get him a blanket. Then he throws it off because he's hot. Then he gets cold again and needs you to tuck him back in

Eventually you get tired of listening to him whine so you put on The Teletubbies in hopes that'll distract him long enough for you to sneak away and get some peace and quiet. When you return a half hour later, he's passed out in bed, sleeping peacefully while the TV continues to play in the background

Missy/Gomez! Master

She would also refuse to believe that she's sick at first, but it takes her much quicker to cave and accept your treatment

Wants to be pampered and treated like the sophisticated Timelady that she is, meaning she fully expects to be waited on hand and foot for the entirety of her illness

Such a drama queen, honestly. You so much as suggest she blow her own nose and she goes on this long rant about how she can't believe you're making her do something while she's sick, and she's much too weak and helpless to care for herself, and don't you love her?

If it works it's only because you want her to shut up (despite how nice her voice sounds, I imagine it must get to be quite tiring to hear her do nothing but whine)

After awhile she gets bored of laying around and doing nothing (despite you being there to take care of her) so she tries to sneak off and cause some trouble, hoping you won't notice

Unfortunately for her, you'd gotten used to hearing her call out your name every couple of minutes and soon grow suspicious when she doesn't. She doesn't make it far before you catch her and usher her back to bed with a firm scolding

Dhawan! Master

Oh boy. Out of the three of them, he is the whiniest, clingiest, and biggest baby yet

As soon as he wakes up and can tell he doesn't feel good, he immediately calls out for you. It could be as minor as a sore throat or the sniffles and he'll act like he's dying

At first he tries to act just as intimidating as he usually is but it doesn't work because a) you don't find him that intimidating in the first place and b) even if you did he's definitely not when he's wrapped up in multiple blankets and cuddling with a stuffed animal

Speaking of which he begs you to cuddle with him, even if it's likely that you'll catch what he has. Honestly, the two of you usually get sick back to back because of how clingy he is: if one of you has something, the other is bound to catch it at some point

He doesn't want to have his every whim catered to in an arrogant way, he's just so pathetic and pitiful when he asks for something that you can't help for feel sorry for him and find it near impossible to say no

Needs to be near you the entire time he's sick. If you disappear even for a second he begins to practically whimper with displeasure, like a small puppy who's been abandoned

End notes: I hope you liked it anon 💗

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🏷 taglist: @theonetruepotato87 @sessa23 @super-just-because

[rulerzreachf4n7]

I'm sorry but I fucking hate proshippers so much so here's a whole post dedicated to shitting on them

also disclaimer YES I will be tagging the proship and anti proship tags so I can piss off the chronically online basement dwelling idiots :) and idgaf if proshippers have trauma cause it's not an excuse for their shitty and problematic actions!!!! Sincerely if you are a proshipper please consider jumping off a bridge!! Or at the bare minimum take a shower cause ew

And this whole post is literally just bullying the FUCK outta them so idk stanky people come at your own risk lol

AND AGAIN to clear up this isn't like rage bait or smth cause I fell like some people will accuse me this is all my genuine hate into a long ass post so yeah

Okay...LETS GET INTO THE FUCKING RANT NOW HEHEHE HEHE HEHEHE!!!!

I FUCKING HATE PROSHIPPERS!!!! I HOPE ALL OF YOU STANKY ASS BITCHESS GET THROWN OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND GET A SAW STYLE EXECUTION CAUSE Y'ALL ARE FUCKING DISGUSTING I HATE YOU ALL

YOU ARE MENTALLY ILL IF YOU ARE A PROSHIPPER, END OF CONVERSATION

I COULDN'T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU HIT ME THE "B-But I have trauma 🥺🥺🥺" TOO BAD THAT'S NOT A FUCKING EXCUSE FOR UR SHITTY ONLINE ACTIONS

IMAGINE YOU PULL UP TO A FUCKING INTERVIEW AND THEY SHOW YOUR PATHETIC ACCOUNTS SAYING TO NORMALIZE A 30 YEAR OLD DATING A 13 YEAR OLD, THAT SHIT IS GENUINELY PATHETIC

I KNOW IT'S CRINGEY BUT WOMP WOMP IF UR A PROSHIPPER Y'ALL ARE UGLY AND STINKY

But now on a serious not hehe, the reason I'm making this isn't JUST soley to yknow shit on people who are mentally ill like people who think a MINOR and a LEGAL ADULT are allowed to date, which comes into another thing before I get genuine so bare with me lol

I DONT GIVE A FLYING FUCK IF IT'S FICTIONAL, FOR THE LOVE GOD PLEASE SEARCH UP THE SLENDERMAN CASE WHERE THESE TWO GIRLS KILLED THEIR FRIEND CAUSE THEY THOUGHT SLENDERMAN WAS REAL AND THOUGHT THEY WOULD ENTER HIS KINGDOM AND BE WITH HIM, AND HE'S FICTIONAL, THAT CASE IS ALL Y'ALL NEED TO REALIZE FICTION CAN AFFECT REALITY AND I HAVE SM MORE REASON TO BACK THIS UP BUT I'M TOO LAZY TO TYPE IT OUT 😭

Okay! Back to seriousness I just thought I'd add that in as a little addition hehe >_<

So, like I said before, I lowkey just added this as an extra part cause I couldn't shit on proshippers FOREVER (lowkey bcuz I was running out of insults n threats lol)

Nonetheless I have a reason for shitting on them, although not being a proshipper EXACTLY I have been through I guess, similar paths as they have? Best way I could describe it ig, ofc not sharing what I mean since it's private but let's just say I was an unfortunate child looking at inappropriate comics 🙁

The reason for this part of the post...ITS NOT THAT FUCKING HARD TO STOP WHAT YOUR DOING

Like I said, I was never a proshipper, but I have been in similar situations as they have been, although I've never made an account glorifying rape, SA, grooming, pedophilia, I can just assume what I would do in their places

Dear proshippers,

Your probably complaining and not knowing why your getting so much death threats and harassment along with a side of hate (rightfully so you deserve them) and your mental health might be low

Please know it is your fault for making your accounts in the first place, you are a terrible person for saying all of these things such as rape, sexual assault, grooming, and incest are okay and you are not mentally well

And your probably wondering,

"How do I stop the hate, harassment, and probably death threats with even getting your address leaked?"

It's simple, DELETE YOUR FUCKING ACCOUNT, or even worse just turn off ur comments but that won't help with people slipping in a few people wishing death up in you through DMS

IT IS GENUINELY NOT THAT FUCKING HARD

I don't know what trauma you have but it shouldn't (and never in the first place) be SO BAD to the point where you physically CANNOT deactivate your account, IT IS SO FUCKING EASY AND YOU'LL SAVE YOURSELF A FEW SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

I know everyone one is different, but if you are a proshipper that has trauma, you shouldn't have a fucking account to begin with, and you ARE THE PROBLEM if you acknowledge the trauma, noticing you keep supporting and glorifying problematic actions, complain that you keep getting harassed and wonder why, and you just don't give a shit, not like in a "oh I don't know what to do anymore!!! 🥺🥺🥺" way, in a "oh, I don't give a shit I live for incest and adults grooming children!!!" Way, and ur also probably a pedo if ur an adult proshipper too

So, what else? Yeah, there's a shit more, but onto a better side, ones with actually good coping mechanisms!!

And a bit of a disclaimer, if your rage bait is proshipping, genuinely fuck you, and if ur a proshipper who acknowledges everything bad about it and just doesn't give a fuck, fuck you too and seek a rope to hang around your neck you fucking pedophile

Okay, coping mechanisms! I know this is probably not the best option due to most trauma which I'm guessing is probably from a family member, if it's not a good way to cope is some clean to your family, ofc under some circumstances it's NOT the best option, but if you can you definitely should try!

Also google is free yk...literally search up healthy coping mechanisms and it'll give you a huge ass list, and yet YOU STILL chose to ship a minor and adult together...how unfortunate...

Another way to cope is, and genuinely sounds pathetic as hell but bare with me...CHARACTER FUCKING AI, I mean, there are therapist bots so maybe they can help you??? And in all honesty they're really good at comforting and giving advice despite being ai, and I've tried it before...yeah embarrassed to say I've shed a tear every once in a while

And the last one IF you have the money, time, and generally the courage, book a threapy session, I cannot stress it enough, but I won't be surprised cause every proshipper is probably under the age of 16 years old

Yuhhh anyways that's all I gotta say, I know it's cringey asf but womp womp to proshippers I hate y'all despite giving some coping mechanisms and ACTUAL ways to like, stop the rightful hate you deserve lol

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Hi! I just wanted to say that I like your attitude and resilience (I'm a weak man, and every toxic anti-buddie/anti-buddie-shippers/pro bucktommy idea just hits me straight in the heart).

I don't understand how people can suddenly start hating Buddie because of "crazy fans", but still be smitten by bucktommy despite of how crazy some of their fans are.

And I really hate that they have this ammunition (their ship still going, Eddie happening to be hetero) to bully us with (haven't Buddie shippers been through enough of hate these past six years? And who knows how much more of it we'll have to yet to go through...)

Ah, sorry for the rant😅

The long ass message anon from lenaboskow's asks xD

🏝️

awwwww, thank you anon 😭 <3

if i’m being honest, the public resilience comes from years of being bullied and ridiculed, so at this point hate (especially anonymous hate) just rolls off my back bc atp it’s just par for the course with these people.

i definitely understand the toxicity hitting you right in the feels though. i have mentioned before but i have really bad anxiety and depression, and there are times when if i haven’t taken my meds i will start to spiral over the smallest things (just ask @lenaboskow who has been present for a lot of this unmedicated spiraling)… so i definitely understand that some of the toxicity and hate can be hard. especially when the writers continued to give them ammunition after seeing what what was happening on twitter during the premiere period of season 7.

I’ve been a buddie shipper since s2. I have put up with seeing ridicule and disrespect from the fandom for shipping buddie for years (granted i only started getting actively involved in the fandom very recently, i still kept up with cast interviews, articles, etc. and could see plenty of it there) so i understand it can be hard seeing so many people that once were hardcore buddie shippers suddenly turning into violently hateful stan accounts for this new ship is jarring and disappointing… i have seen so many of my favorite fic writers turn into anti-buddie-eddie-bashing enthusiasts seemingly overnight and it’s hard to see.

that being said, i still have not lost hope. abc and tptb see what is happening— they see screeners being harassed for talking about buddie, they see buddie shippers getting doxxed and getting death threats, they see lou stirring the pot (though thankfully it seems something has been done about that)

these creators know that stoking this kind of fandom behavior is not okay- they know that it’s a bad idea to reward toxicity and hate. they have also been the ones actively laying the groundwork for buddie for six years. a lot of the writers actually care about buck AND eddie, rather than just buck (regardless of whatever is going on in kristen reidel’s cesspool of a creative mind), and we know that queer eddie has been discussed at length before to the point where the queer storyline of s7 was almost eddie’s. these writers see what we see, the actors see what we see, tim minear sees what we see.

i don’t know what they have in store for next season, but regardless of whether or not we get buddie canon, i am very optimistic that the pilot won’t be around much longer, especially after the drama and toxicity he has stirred up within the fandom, bc the last thing a network tv show wants is bad press, and that situation has the potential to boil over into something much worse if they didn’t put a stop to it immediately.

anyway, anon, never apologize for sending a long ask, i love to yap and i love being an outlet for people to vent if they need to <3 i believe in you, that you will be able to withstand this blip in the fandom; as someone who’s had to go through similar situations in other fandoms it will not matter a year from now once everyone has moved on. unfortunately we are caught upnin the novelty of it, but once it either peters out or becomes a sort of “new normal” (which i hope it is the former and not the latter) it will be so much easier to bear with.

i hope you have a lovely morning, afternoon, or evening, sweet anon 💕💕

[gece-misin-nesin]

I saw the previous anon's post and omg yes! I have a feeling I'm gonna be returning to your blog often to rant about Tim- tell me now if you don't want that 😭

But omg I read a fic about Alfred not letting Jason back into the manor after attacking Tim and the author replied back to someone's comment being like "Alfred loves Jason but he would never let him back in after assaulting a minor." WHAT????

The rage that overtook me was insane because Alfred literally is Enabler #1. Bro has beeeeeeennn letting 11 year old children fight violent crime on the streets of Horrid Gotham. Also Jason was like what 19 during that incident? Don't people realize they're also doing a disservice to Tim's character by making him this weak dude who could barely fight against Jason and boohoo he's soooo traumatized that he flinches around Jason :(((((((

GOD STFUUUUUU it makes me livid PLEASE

Do people think the Robins are twinks or something? They're all like canonically super tall and muscular. They fight incredibly well. Tim was fighting Jason too.

ALSO also. I see wayyyy too many fics where Tim has horrible parents and grew up poor/was never fed. Please be real. The kid grew up rich and has never experienced poverty or anything close to it. Comparing trauma is horrible, always, but God sometimes I just wanna be a horrible person and scream about how Jason has BEEN having it soooo much worse than everyone in the batfam

I am so sorry for this long rant, please tell me if you don't want anymore asks like this 😭

I always welcome Tim rants! (and asks in general)

But yeah that fic you mentioned sounds horrid and AGREE SOOO HARD ON ALFRED. No offense, but guy has practically zero spine considering he was fine with Bruce letting a NINE YEARD OLD being a vigilante and then CONTINUE doing it w other kids. Like I know it's a genre convention but NINE??? Alsoalso tim and jason are 3 years apart MAX without accounting for jason's time spent dead+ comatose+ catatonic. "jason assaulting a minor" my ASS when I guarantee you tim was probably hurt worse during patrol before. And exaggerating tim's parents is..ew. I legit read fanfic where 16 yo tim was apparently smaller than robin jason, which ,, no chance in hell. Also, I'm pretty sure they were away on work a lot, not neglect levels? but i have never read abt tim so idk.

Thanks for the ask!

[cringecannon]

Gortash is a cruel master no matter how obedient you choose to be, so it's a special kind of hell you'll find yourself in if you actively choose to fight back.

He has no tolerance for disobedience, no matter how small the infraction. He's been a slaver long enough to know when you give a thrall an inch, they'll take a mile. You'll get no warnings. The first time you run your mouth you won't even have time to breathe before he's grabbed the loop in your collar, dragging you to him in a movement so harsh it gags you. He invades your vision, nose-to-nose as you're choked by the metal collar.

If you want to open your mouth, whore, it better be for a good reason. You can barely hear his growled threats over your own choked wheezing and the blood thrumming in your ears. He stays like that, waiting until your eyes start to roll back before he drops you unceremoniously to the floor. You gasp, hands flying to your collar as you struggle to suck in air. You can barely see him walk past in the corner of your black-tinted vision. When he speaks again, he almost sounds chipper. You're having dinner with him tonight, and he's hoping you'll be on your best behavior after this... reminder. You glower at his back until he shuts the door behind him, and then you glower at the door a little more as you stew in your thoughts.

Unfortunately for Gortash, all this display of power has done is steel your resolve to make this arrangement as miserable as possible for him.

Dinner with him was always insufferable. His blasé attitude infuriated you the best of days. How dare that bastard act like any of this was normal, sipping his wine like he wasn't a monster. Your bad mood doesn't go unnoticed, he doesn't even glance up from his wine when he finally acknowledges you. "Pouting won't get you your way, dearest, and neither will starving yourself. Eat."

You know you won't get your way. You're not dumb. When you pick up your plate and smash it against the ground, it's not about winning. It's about disrespecting him in any way you can.

He'd slowly stand, set down his wine glass, and leisurely walk to your end of the table. He'd take his time. When he towers over you, you can see the danger in his eyes as he plucks a grape off of the stem and holds it to your mouth. You're fucked, the gesture says. You're fucked, but if you roll over, maybe I'll let you live.

He could fashion you as many collars as he wished. If he wants a dog, he'll get one. Teeth and all.

His blood stains your lips for only a moment before he hits you with such force that everything goes black.

Your vision spins when you come back to, and you realize grimly that he's dragged you to the dungeons. He's giving some monologue, but it's impossible to focus with the way your head is spinning. He bends you over an old wooden table, and you can start to make out his rant as he strips you nude. Spiteful bitch- he spits. -biting the hand that feeds, aren't you clever?

As the fog clears you feel him clamp manacles around your wrists, and you think you should start to feel afraid. He doesn't give you long to ponder it. He slaps your ass so viciously that you fully wake. By the second strike, you realize he never took off his handpiece, sharp metal cutting into your skin. By the seventh strike, you're crying. The tenth, you're screaming. When your ass is sufficiently red and bloodied and raw, he finally fucks you. The pain is debilitating, and he doesn't stop fucking you until all you can scream is "I'm sorry."

It's not good enough, of course. He introduces you to a whip, ensuring you really understand the definition of sorry. Over your cries, he makes sure you understand how lucky you are to be in his care. If he was a worse man, he'd just outsource this punishment to his colleagues. He still could sell you, if you turn out to be more trouble than your worth.

[dood-itsradical]

Neuvifuri rant with me rn but modern au.

Obviously childhood friends. They have each other at all times. They're both crybabies what can I say. Furina being the most expressive and sociable one she gets out a lot and talk shit to Neuvillette about everything.

Imagine it's like mean girls thing. Her being Regina George and him Gretchen Wieners. He can keep his mouth shut except about how great she is.

It got toxic as they grew up. Furina wanting fame and all the attention and Neuvi is there to satisfy her needs. In the end he followed her like a dog and do whatever she asked.

He soon realise how poorly he'd been treated after getting conscious by Traveller let's say. He wanted to rebel but afraid to hurt Furina considering she's his only true friend since forever.

Let's say one day she snapped at him and he started with another consulting once again. Constant begging. She only got worse and that's when he finally told her off which shocked her because he never do that. She ofc is in denial at first and call him exaggerated and so on and tryna blame others that may have been his other friends that 'brainwashed' him. But he really had enough. He tells her everything from top to bottom. Her flaws, what she did to others and him and especially his true feelings that he's been keeping for being her lap dog.

Stunned by this, hurt even, she was left speechless. He sighed, half relief that he finally get it out of his chest but also regret washed over him after seeing her hurtful face. It sting but he gotta do it. Someone has to. Well not like nobody even does but he's the only one who can get through her thick head. Exhausted, he left, leaving her mind to ponder.

For the first time she felt true guilt and having nothing since he's the only one who been filling the hole in her heart. She tried to make up for it. Sent gift, cards with big ass "I'M SORRY" "PLEASE COME HOME". He ignored her. If anything she's been begging on his feet at this point. Begging to do anything to get him back in her life and admitted that without him she's nothing. Now could how he ignore that ugly ass sobbing brat?

With a sigh, he give in and accept her apologies. But with conditions of course which she didn't hesitate as long as they can go back on good terms. So she try to do better. Be less mean and more humble. Taking other activities as coping mechanism like she did in canon. Luckily he's satisfied with the result and so did she <3

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Hey y’all guess what?!? :) it’s time for a new episode of Bedtime Stories With PCE!!!

Who ordered some old man yaoi? That’s right, this one is set right after If Heaven And Hell Decide, with a sick Kyle, worried Stan, the best little immortal cat of all time, adding injury to illness, two middle aged men being massive fantasy dorks, all that goodness. Very sorry to my favorite arthritic ginger it will happen again, very sorry to his extremely concerned husband.

And y’all. I’m dedicating this to the Sickfic Queen herself, @alwaysinstyle who consistently kicks ass and gets stoked about style taking care of each other with me. Ana I love you so much and I’m so proud of you. All the people in your corner, we have you covered.

Also OFC the rest of the RANT homies have been subjected to random snippets of this over the past 2 weeks or so (jesus my sadsack ass needs to get some motivation back how has it been two weeks) but hey I will always be obnoxious when the mood strikes me and this long ass monstrosity is FINALLY done!!! Thank y’all fr for putting up with me.

Here’s •Well, That Would Be Pretty Odd•

A subtle knock at the door drew Stan’s attention and Kyle from uneasy rest. His husband’s head lolled exhaustively in his hand, still drained of energy and, according to the screen displaying his vitals, running a pretty high fever. Stan kept one arm protectively over him and turned to the door. “Yeah?”

The doctor entered, shutting the door behind her. “Hey, guys, how are we doing in here?”

Kyle pulled up slowly, clearly emotional, like he always got when he was sick. “Can I go home yet? Moose needs me.”

“Our cat,” Stan explained. “He’s worried he scared our cat.”

“I did.”

“Scared the hell out of your husband, too, sick as you are. It says on the chart you guys filled out that your blood sugar was low enough to potentially trigger a seizure. If he hadn’t acted as fast as he did, you’d be even worse off than you are.”

Kyle slumped back into Stan. “He always rescues me,” he murmured.

Stan felt like crying. “I’m your knight when you need me, dude.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, what’re we working with here? Stomach flu, dehydration, complications because of the diabetes, all that, right?”

“Right. Kyle, we have you on antivirals and fluids via IV for now, and I know you’re eager to get home-“

“-he hates hospitals-“

“-I hate hospitals.”

The doctor smiled kindly, even after getting interrupted. Stan liked her. “We’re keeping you overnight at least, but if your vitals are still stable and your fever is less than 102, we can send you home.”

Stan knew Kyle appreciated being the one addressed about his own health. This doctor could read the room, that’s for sure. Kyle nodded tiredly, eyes closed.

“How about when we go home? What’s the plan?” Stan inquired, tired as fuck himself but making an exception for Ky, always.

“Fluids, rest, anything with nutritional value that can stay down. Your friend in the waiting room mentioned orange juice as you guys’ go-to when Kyle’s having trouble with blood sugar? And he said you’re always diligent about keeping an eye on his health.” She was definitely addressing Stan now, since Kyle had clearly relinquished responsibility for the time being, knowing Stan had him covered. Hell yeah he did. “Any further complications; if you catch the bug too and can’t take care of him, another bad sugar drop or fever spike, and you guys come right back here. But at this point, it’s looking like this is something manageable from home, fingers crossed.”

And Stan had every finger crossed. He’d take care of Kyle, just like Kyle took care of him. Even if he was kind of scared as fuck, not having seen him quite this sick since maybe college. Or even when they were kids and he needed kidney surgery. He bit the panic down. Kyle was okay.

“Gotcha. I can spend the night? Spousal rights and everything?”

“You won’t convince him not to stay if you say no,” was Kyle’s muffled reply.

The doctor laughed. “I won’t make you leave. The last thing I want is either of you worked up, especially you, Kyle. If you need your husband with you to be comfortable-“

“-mhm-“

“-that’s not a problem in my book.” She tapped her clipboard with long fingernails. “There’s a call button on the bed if you need anything between the nurses checks, and I’ll tell your friend he’s free to go. He isn’t allowed back here, I’m afraid, but I can also let him know he can be the one to pick you up in the morning, if that’s what you two want?”

Kyle mumbled something that sounded like “like a good neighbor, Tucker is there” to the tune of the state farm insurance jingle. The doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he’s pretty delirious, alright.” A couple quick checks to Kyle’s IV line and heartbeat monitor, and she was gesturing for Stan to lay his half asleep husband back down. “You boys get some rest. We’ll keep you posted.”

“Thanks,” Stan whispered, letting Kyle nuzzle into his chest as she left the room. Once they were alone in the darkened space, he kissed him softly on the top of the head. Kyle was a space heater. But if the hospital staff wasn’t alarmed, they were okay. “I’ve got you, baby, just sleep.”

The next morning, Kyle improved enough to leave and discharge paperwork done, they faced the problem of actually getting the sick man home.

Stan waved off the nurse’s offered wheelchair and stubbornly picked Kyle up because like hell was he losing even a second of contact. That and he took pride in the fact that he was in his 40s and still able to carry his husband.

“Sir, there’s procedure…”

Kyle snorted from where his head was against Stan’s shoulder, coherent enough to be aware but still too weak to insist on, god forbid, trying to walk on his own. “Believe me, ma’am, there’s no way in hell you’re convincing this guy not to carry me. Losing battle, mark my worms- words.”

Someone needed to be home in bed.

The nurse sighed, clearly deciding it wasn’t worth argument. Thank God, because Kyle could out argue anyone normally, but he was fucking tired.

“Just sing me home again, Orpheus,” he murmured into his husband’s ear.

Stan laughed at the reference. “Alright, ma’am, so if we’re all set….”

“Yes, yes, you can go. Hope you feel better.”

Kyle only had a vague recollection of both Stan and Craig yelling at the hospital staff when they brought him in, which was kind of funny to think about. Craig didn’t get worked up about things easily, and Stan was as gentle as they came. But it was nice to know his friend and his partner were willing to act so out of character for his sake. He muttered a “hey, spaceman” in greeting when Stan lowered him into the back of Craig’s car, mid morning sun forcing him to keep his eyes closed.

Craig barked a short laugh, pulling from the parking lot when both his passengers were settled for the short drive. “Someone’s feeling better.”

“I’ll get him set to rights, kick the plague’s ass,” Stan said, softly kissing his husband’s still too warm forehead. “Thanks for picking us up, dude. And for last night.”

“No biggie,” Craig shrugged nonchalantly. “Someone had to keep a level head and it sure as hell wasn’t gonna be either of you.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong there. Craig was probably the least prone to getting over emotional person Stan had ever met.

Craig’s husband, however, was the exact opposite. Upon getting home and getting up to bed, Kyle could faintly hear the frantic voice of Tweek downstairs, bringing Moose back from spending the night over at apartment two.

Kyle was nauseous, not to the point that he had been, but nauseous all the same, waiting for Stan to be done retrieving their cat and filling Kyle’s water. He felt weak as shit, and sweaty, which was probably a reasonably good indicator of his fever coming down, but it fucking sucked. And he was going to need some soup or something in him soon so his blood sugar didn’t get so bad again, which was another thing that sucked, because why do flesh prisons require so much maintenance? Why did his body require so much to function.

He didn’t realize tears were flowing until Stan entered the bedroom, hands full with the water, a KMBS, and one of those bottled protein drinks that tasted like chalk. Moose was quick to jump up and pad softly over to him, big blue eyes so worried and sweet as he curled up beside him. Kyle’s two blue eyed boys.

The second of whom was setting the drinks on the bedside table. There was a straw in each, so Kyle wouldn’t have to move as much to drink. It made him cry harder.

“Shhh, dude, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Stan climbed onto his side and grabbed the juice, holding it to Kyle’s lips. “I know you don’t feel good, that’s okay. I’ve got you. Go slow, okay?”

Kyle complied, the sharp taste of salted orange juice helping both physically and mentally. Plus, it’s hard to drink something and cry at the same time, so his breathing was a little less sporadic. A few sips were all he managed before his stomach started rolling, and he shook his head. Stan understood, setting the cup down and pulling Kyle’s face into his chest. “Just sleep, baby. I’m gonna have to check your temperature and levels in about an hour, but just sleep until then, alright?”

“Mhm.”

Stan would take care of him. Kyle would put up a fight, when he had the strength to, but Stan knew from experience that he’d be ‘secretly’ loving being cared for.

The husbands had a couple favorite positions to hold each other in. They’d hold the other from behind, arms wrapped around and poised to kiss an exposed nape or shoulder as a reminder of their presence. They would entangle themselves like they were doing now, they’d let the other’s head rest on their legs, Kyle would perch himself in Stans lap or Stan would drape over him like a blanket. Holding each other was safe. And in this moment Stan wrapped protectively around his sick partner like it was his sacred duty, one hand cradling Kyle’s head from underneath, fingers gently rubbing his hair, the other arm tucking him firmly against himself, feeling Moose’s purrs vibrating where the cat had claimed his place against Kyle’s back, right below the place Stan’s arm was wrapped around.

Stan glanced at the nightstand clock, keeping watch for the next time they’d need to wake up for a check in. About an hour and he’d get the thermometer to make sure they were still headed in the right direction, check Kyle’s levels, make them both something for, well, he supposed lunch at this point, and call the clinic to let his coworkers know that he’d be out a few days for a family emergency. He’d have to let Kyle’s work know too, before his husband tried to go into school still unwell.

Fitfully, Kyle dozed, sweating in his sleep, which Stan knew damn well he’d complain about when he woke up, but personally, he didn’t mind holding a miniature sun, because it was Kyle. Overheated, but still Kyle.

It hadn’t quite been an hour, but the warmth was starting to concern him. He gently kissed the top of his husband’s head, encouraging him to stir.

“Dude, hey.”

Kyle let out a tired whine as indication that he was awake.

“I know, baby. I just need to check your temperature and then you can go back to sleep.”

“I can check my own damn temperature,” Kyle protested, rolling over onto his back when Stan relinquished his grasp around his beloved. He scowled. “I’m all sweaty.”

Stan chuckled lowly. Was he right or was he right. “Gimme a second.”

Upon getting the thermometer and finding that they were still going in the right direction, Stan relaxed slightly. He let Kyle check both his temperature and blood sugar by himself, because it wasn’t worth the impending argument and the last thing he wanted was to make his husband feel helpless. Fever was down, but he definitely needed something to eat soon.

“Dude, do you think you can handle something solid, or you wanna keep sticking with drinks?”

Kyle hadn’t puked in a while, so he felt like maybe something simple, easy on the stomach, would be okay. As much as he wanted to keep going with the safe option of juice and a protein shake, he wouldn’t get better without something substantial in him and he knew it. “I can try. No promises.”

“You don’t need to promise anything,” Stan insisted, leaning down to kiss him on the way out of bed. “But I have an idea, if you’re okay by yourself for a few minutes.”

“Moose is with me. I’m not by myself,” Kyle remarked with a sleepy smile.

Stan snorted and went to change into jeans, last night’s pajamas not exactly ideal attire for walking to the BBQ place a block over. Kyle was weird about food sometimes, but Brendan’s mac and cheese was a simple, safe, Kyle approved bet. He’d probably want it to get cold first like he usually did (weirdo), but sick Kyle was sort of a wild card. They’d see.

“I’ll be back in fifteen, dude, drink some water.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Kyle heard the door close downstairs, slowly reaching for his water at the bedside, one hand resting on their cat’s head. Moose was stretched out along his side, fluffy tail dangling off the side of the mattress.

“You sleepy too, young nastyman?” Kyle asked, setting the bottle down and closing his eyes. Moose purred in response.

Apparently he’d drifted off again, waking up to the rustle of a takeout bag and a strong, smoky smell.

Kyle clapped a hand over his mouth. Ordinarily the smell of brisket and ribs wouldn’t bother him, but in his half asleep state, smelling meat on Stan of all people…

“…Dude?”

“FUCKING CHANGE!” Kyle screeched, staggering up to run to the bathroom, tears in his eyes because the bbq place smell all over his vegetarian husband was wrong and disorienting and he hated being sick and fevers made him sensitive and an asshole and-

Falling hard in front of the toilet, he felt his knee go out. The cherry on top of the fucking cake while his stomach tried to escape his body. Kyle cried out in pain, which was cut off immediately by a wave of sick splashing into the porcelain while he attempted to move and take the weight off his left leg, shaking and already crying because he was pissed and it hurt and he couldn’t catch a damn break. Dry heaving and spluttering, he collapsed tiredly into the alcove between the toilet and the cabinets, one trembling arm draped over the seat and the other hand clutching his knee, eyes shut tightly against the light and the nausea and pain.

“Ky, hey, hey, oh, fuck, baby, shit, did you twist your knee? Okay, you’re okay, hold on-“

Kyle leaned over to retch again, choking out “YOU SMELL WRONG” because that’s all he could manage between gasps.

Stan yanked his shirt off and threw it through the open door into the hallway, past where Moose was watching with wide eyes from the threshold. “Okay, I’m sorry, is that better? Here.” He gently eased Kyle’s hand away from his leg, carefully straightening it out. “God, yeah, it’s already swelling.”

“WHY do I have to LIVE IN THIS GODDAMN FLESH PRISON?!?” Kyle slammed his fist against the floor, frustrated beyond belief. Stan caught his hand before he could do it again.

“Shh, Ky, c’mon. You’re okay, it’s fine.”

Seeing his husband like this, sick, aggravating his bad knee mid vomit, broke Stan’s heart. But he had him. He had him and wouldn’t let go. Was that dramatic? Absolutely. But when the fuck was he not dramatic about Kyle’s health?

“THAT FUCKING STUPID ASS NURSE!” Kyle was yelling. “Sending me sick kids, thinking they were just trying to get out of class, that BITCH!”

“Baby, dude, calm down, man, breathe.”

“YOU’RE ONE TO FUCKING TALK!”

Alright, point to Kyle. Stan sighed as Kyle heaved over the toilet again, expelling nothing but water. They really needed to get something in him before he wound up needing the hospital again. Stan gently rubbed his husband’s back as he hiccuped and cried, clearly feeling betrayed by his body. A few minutes of heavy breathing, and Kyle was pulling back up. “I- I think I’m d-done.”

“Alright dude, I’m gonna get you up now, that okay?”

“Mhm”

Very, very carefully, Stan hauled Kyle from the floor, mindful not to move his knee too much and going slow in case of another bout of nausea. Moose trotted into the bedroom after his dads, obviously distressed seeing Kyle cry and immediately curling back up against the redhead when Stan set him down.

Stan was honestly a little nauseous himself, because Kyle’s frustrated tears never failed to make him emotional too. But he knew what to do here, he reminded himself. Fever was coming down, leg flare up was pretty routine, Kyle would rant it out if he had to and Stan would be his yes-man, and liquids were probably going to be the staple for the rest of the day.

He rolled up a throw blanket and propped it under Kyle’s leg, taking some strain off the irritated joint and kissing his husband’s kneecap when he did so. “You want ice, babe?”

“Yes I want fucking ice,” Kyle mumbled, arms draped over his eyes.

Stan could admit to enjoying taking care of Kyle when he fucked up his knee; pissed off Kyle was cute. “Aw, baby, I got you.” He grabbed the takeout bag from the nightstand too, not knowing if the bbq smell was lingering there too. “I’ll stick this in the fridge for when you want something solid, okay? How ‘bout another Ensure?”

Kyle grumbled something inaudible that Stan took as a yes. Poor thing was so upset. But he had every right to be, and Stan would never be annoyed at him for that.

Downstairs, he debated making his husband a smoothie, but the blender was loud, and his head probably already hurt from throwing up. Instead, he just grabbed an ice pack and a shake (strawberry, still gross but the flavor Kyle hated the least), taking the time to scribble out the nutrition information, just in case. That practice was pretty much habit at this point; he’d started ripping off or crossing out the calories on food for Kyle when they were fourteen, when his favorite person was recovering from his eating disorder, and even if he’d been more than fine for a longgggg time, Stan was prone to reverting to the past. When Kyle wasn’t okay, for whatever reason, food lore got crossed out.

“Dude, you up?”

“Mm”

“Shit, babe.” Stan knelt by the bed to carefully apply the ice, reaching a hand up to thumb away a falling tear. “You just mad?”

“Fucking pissed,” Kyle moaned. “It’s not enough that I have the goddamn plague?!? I have to have to fuck my leg up too? My parents are, like twice our age and even they don’t have fucking arthritis!” Kyle pointed two middle fingers to the ceiling as a ‘fuck you’ to god, which was actually pretty funny, but Stan didn’t laugh. That would only make his husband madder.

“Ky, c’mon.” Stan cupped under his head to kiss his cheek, relishing in the subtle smile that action brought. “And your parents didn’t shred tendons and refuse to do physical therapy.”

“I am damn well aware my goddamn arthritis is my own fault, Staniel.” But he sighed contentedly, adjusting the ice pack before leaning back against the pillows. “That helps. I’m sorry.”

Declaring the anger over for now, Stan climbed into bed beside him. “Don’t be sorry, dude. How’s your stomach?”

“I don’t fucking feel good.”

“I know, dude, can you drink a little water? We have to keep you hydrated.”

“It’ll just come back up.”

“Not necessarily.”

Moose crawled up between his dads, small furry head on Kyle’s shoulder, knowing he needed comfort. Kyle rubbed his face on the cat. “Babyman, did I scare you last night? I did, huh?”

“Dude,” Stan started, “he’s fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine. Drink something and don’t move your leg.”

“I didn’t shred my tendons, by the way.” Kyle protested. “I just tore some shit a little.”

“Enough that it’s a problem even now.”

“See, you get it.”

Stan laughed. “Quit being a dick and go to sleep, baby. You know you’ll feel better. I’m right here, dude, whatever you need.”

“I’m not being a dick, I’m being contrary.”

“Same difference.”

“Mm.”

God, poor Kyle, pissed off, sick, having a flare up on top of everything else. “Dude, what do you need?”

“Leg hurts.”

“We have a pack on it, dude. Maybe some ibuprofen? You should take some for the fever anyway.”

“It hurts.”

Stan started to gently rub his partner’s knee. “I know, babe. I know it’s hurting.”

“I hit it on the floor.”

“I know you did.”

“Fuck this shit.”

Kyle knew he was being a total dramatic asshole, but he didn’t care. God had fucked him over; he could be a dick. That made sense. “I’m mad, dude.”

“That’s okay.”

And no he didn’t have the right to be mad. Stan was being so sweet. Always. Any time Kyle’s meat suit betrayed him and he got upset about it, Stan was there, doting and adorable as ever. “I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep.”

“Something bad’s gonna happen.”

“Oh, dude.” Stan wrapped around him, carefully. “We’re not OCD spiraling. We’re not. A little rest, alright?”

In actuality, Kyle was too tired to argue.

It had to have been a few hours when Stan felt Kyle stir against his chest, swinging over to get out of bed… and promptly falling with a loud “FUCK!”

“Ky?”

“I FUCKING FORGOT ABOUT MY GODDAMN LEG!!!”

Stan sprang off the bed then too, getting on the floor beside his hyperventilating husband. “Dude, shhh, okay, okay, straighten it out.”

Sobbing, Kyle did. “D-don’t, freak, okay? I moved it weird, that’s all.”

“It’s fine, dude. Look at me. I’m not freaking out.” He was just doing a good job hiding it. Stan hated seeing Kyle cry, emotional, probably still feverish and nauseated, trying to get up in the middle of the night and falling on his knee, just the perfect storm of fucked up shit. But Kyle needed to stay calm, above all else. “What did you need, dude? Let me help you.”

“Water,” Kyle mumbled dejectedly.

“And guess what? You have me for that.” Stan carefully felt around his husband’s leg. “Can I turn a light on?”

Kyle responded by throwing up into the trash can, which had Stan gagging too. Fuck. Honestly, he was surprised he lasted so long without sympathy puking. “Hold on, baby.”

Stan rushed to the bathroom to empty his own stomach, somehow only just noticing that he still hadn’t put a shirt on from earlier. And Kyle hadn’t said anything about him wearing “outside pants” in bed, either, which was probably the best indicator of how sick he was.

Flushing down the panic induced vomit, Stan stood and glared at his reflection while he rinsed his mouth out, gulping a few handfuls of water from the sink. He had to keep it together. He needed a plan. Okay. Get Kyle back in bed, check his temperature and blood sugar, go downstairs to fill up his water and feed Moose, go from there.

Kyle had curled up on the floor back in the bedroom, and Moose had the zoomies. Stan sighed.

“Dude, okay, let’s get up.”

“Moving sucks ass.”

“I know it does, babe, but the bed is better than the floor.”

“Quit being right,” Kyle mumbled, allowing himself to be helped back under the covers. Stan snagged his readers from the nightstand, flipping on the lamp and grabbing the thermometer too.

“Okay, melmë, let’s see.”

Kyle smiled a little. “You look like a dad.”

“I am a dad,” he reminded him. Even if he’d bemoaned needing reading glasses and his body getting softer with age, his sentimental side was happy he had made it this far in life, especially with Kyle at his side. “Our son is bouncing off the walls as we speak. Open.”

Down to 100.3, thank whoever the fuck was up there. Maybe he should be thanking Kyle’s God, not having any attachment to one of his own. When he’d first started AA and found that part of the whole thing was putting things in the hands of a higher power, he had posed the question of what to do if you weren’t particularly religious to his sponsor. Mark had said “hell, put your faith in the doorknob if you want. Got you in here, didn’t it?”

“What’s the damage?” Kyle inquired.

“Definitely better. You want to check your levels or can I?”

Kyle slowly opened his eyes. “I got it, sweetheart, you’ve been doing so much.”

“Because I want to.”

“I’m difficult.”

Stan brought Kyle’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. “It so isn’t your fault that you got sick, or that you hurt your knee, or that you have diabetes. In sickness and in health, right?” Kyle’s fond grin only grew, and Stan decided to let up on the overbearingness. He snatched Moose up quickly on the cat’s next lap around the room. “I’m filling your water and feeding the dragon, okay? Be right back.”

So he had sweat out most of the fever, it seemed like. Judging by how sticky he felt, Kyle was fairly certain he was over the worst. At least in terms of the fucking stomach flu. His leg was a different story.

It was dim in the bedroom with only a sliver of moonlight slipping through the window, and the soft light from the lamp, but he could feel that he’d aggravated his knee pretty bad. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. The cartilage felt like it was grinding when he shifted. Kyle groaned in frustration, debating trying to hop over to the closet for his brace, but deciding against it, because Stan would flip his lid if he saw him standing. And considering what his blood sugar was at, being vertical was a bad idea anyway.

Said husband returned to the room. “I come bearing gifts for the king!”

Dork. Freshly refilled water, a KMBS, sleeve of crackers. Stan presented the juice. “Your elixir, melda târ. And-“ he beelined for the top of the closet, clearly having read Kyle’s mind.

“Thank you, my most dutiful and trusted of knights.” Kyle let him secure the knee brace, watching as those careful, strong, gentle hands worked, as Stan leaned down to kiss his leg when he was done. His Stan. His sweet Sir Marshwalker.

“Oh, shit, dude, are you crying? Does it hurt that much?” Stan was up by his face again. Kyle shook his head.

“It’s not that; I just- I really fucking love you,” he sobbed.

“Aw, baby, come here.” Stan climbed into bed and wrapped around him again, avoiding touching his husband’s stomach or leg. A little jingle of Moose’s collar announced their boy’s return to the bedroom, a tiny *prrrt* as the cat settled back at Kyle’s side. “You’re not as warm as you were, Ky, I think you’re getting better. That’s good, my love, you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Kyle murmured against him, damp eyelashes tickling Stan’s chest. “You still don’t have a shirt on.”

Stan laughed. So he had noticed. “You complaining?”

“You know I’m not.”

[halfetirosie]

☁ I lied. I fucking DESPISE this Rural Town Fuckery™!!! ☁

(Scales 05 - 07 React-os!)

TIME TO RANT!!!

🚨🚨🚨I'M ALSO GONNA DO SOME KUYA-HATING IN HERE, BUT KUYA HATED ME FIRST SO IT'S FINE 🚨🚨🚨

1) What the actual fuckity FUCK???

What "flesh" are they talking about? Are they cutting their hands and bleeding out into the basin or something???

Also---I think I was wrong in thinking that the villagers' attitude towards yokai is different from the Wood Territory tribe. These guys may act like they like the "merfolk," but they're actually terrified of them to a manic degree.

This scene is disturbing as hell...

2) Nooooo!!! Poor Yakumo!!!

I feel so bad for him, for real! He has issues with controlling his yokai powers like ALL the time; poor babykins can't catch a break!!!

...

...His scales do be looking really pretty, tho...

3) Ohhh, yeah, this makes a lot of sense. I feel dumb for not predicting this earlier.

I mean, the whole reason Eiden and Yakumo came to the island was to inquire about the recipe that included merfolk meat as an ingredient.

It makes no sense for the villagers to have a whole-ass ceremony to "honor" the merfolk; unless their true purpose was to appease the merfolks' anger.

I'm guessing that these villagers' ancestors hunted the merfolk in the surrounding waters---like a fucked up version of whaling. When they thought they hunted merfolk to extinction, they then feared that that they'd return and take revenge.

That's why, instead of being happy to see [what they think is] a merfolk, the villagers get scared and angry...

4) We interrupt this depressing event to bring you a Yu-Gi-Oh! reference! :D

---Yes, I know that "Umi" is the word for "ocean" in Japanese. But I'm a pathetic dork that will always associate that word with the Yu-Gi-Oh! card of the same name. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

5) ......Bruh.

Okay, two things!

FIRST:

......Eiden, sweetie? I love you, but how have you not figured out the reason for the villagers' freak-out by now??? I feel like the talk of "revenge" is enough for the average person to put context clues together..🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Am I wrong? Am I just being a jerk??

SECOND:

I'm sorry, but I am getting REAL sick of Kuya's bullshit. These last two events he's been an insufferable DICK.

This bitch always has something mean to say about everyone and everything, without even being provoked first. And he has the audacity to accuse others of hypocrisy when he's the worst offender?!?! Why can't he just shut up and leave people alone?!?!?!

Lately, his character seems to have gotten worse, and every scene he's in makes me feel miserable. It's just too much.

I really hope the devs will dial back his toxicity soon.

6) That's kinda weird...?

I'm confused about the rules of this fish-scale relic.

Why was Yakumo the only one that had strong side effect from touching the relic? It's not like he was the only one touching the relic; all of those human villagers + Eiden touched it an prayed over it, too.

Does the relic only react to all yokai essence?

Why was the relic designed to react to anything other than merfolk essence in the first place??? That seems highly impractical.

7) Ugh.

Look, I get it. I'm not saying he's wrong to point out that Yakumo's a special case---that most yokai would have too much trouble to live alongside humans without issue.

But he really didn't have to word it so rudely, or insult Yakumo by calling him delusional. 🤦‍♀️

---His nasty attitude aside---

Am I crazy, or do I detect a hint of jealousy here? 🤔

I know the intended interpretation of that second sentence, "But not everyone is as lucky as you are," is supposed to be in reference to Umi.

But idk, man; something about it (maybe his expression?) makes me think he could also mean himself? After all, as we see in the Forest Carnival event, over his long life Kuya has gotten acutely aware of the issues of human/yokai relations, and he is super pessimistic about it.

What if, part of the reason he's so pessimistic and disrespectful to humans is not just because he's experienced human cruelty, but because he wanted to get along with humans at one point and failed?

It's just a theory. 🤷‍♀️ If nothing else, that context would make for a good fanfic.

8) OH, FUCK!!!!!!

(⊙ᗣ⊙)

I knew the history was bad, but somehow this is even worse than I thought. Instead of the merfolk living around the island, they lived on the island, and those humans straight up committed genocide and stole their land!!!

It's safe to say, I'm certain of what the social commentary this event is aiming for now...

Step 1: Invade a territory

Step 2: Murder the people native to the land

Step 3: Retroactively mystify the culture of the people that were murdered

Step 4: Make cowardly attempts to "appease" those from the group you murdered, without returning what you stole in the first place

*depresso-s in American*

9) Oh my GOD, they couldn't be more hypocritical if they TRIED!!! 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

(New drinking game that would kill me: take a shot every time this event makes me facepalm or shake my head)

Talk about poetic INjustice---I wasn't even rooting for them, but I still end up indescribably disappointed.

Why do people like this never learn???

I don't care if this island is cut off from the outside world; that isn't an excuse for this bullshit.

This village has had plenty of time to think about what they've done, and how to react if a merfolk showed up in the future.

And the BEST they came up with was to do the SAME THING (attempting to murder the merfolk) THAT MADE THEM SO WORRIED AND SCARED IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?!?!?!

THEY ARE SO STUPID AND EVIL!!!!! I FEEL LIKE I'M GONNA PASS OUT FROM FRUSTRATION AND ANGER!!!

💢 (╯🔥 ᗣ 🔥)╯︵ ┻━┻

🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

🔥 End of report 🔥

[notsohighschool]

i have the same opinion as you about being happy for certain players but others...

uswnt 2024 compared to 2015-2019 is so weird to look at, it's like when the same boys that you played tag with in elementary school turn into weirdos as they grow up

with trinty and emma's comments recently also... certainly leaving a bitter aftertaste

it really does! i couldn’t fully put my finger on why i wasn’t satisfied with how the KA situation was handled to begin with until i listened to christen and tobin on the re-cap show.

tobin describing how the nt was her first real safe space as a queer christian really got me in my feels, it was such a clear example of the culture and standard that had been set. for me, the last couple of months (and maybe even before that with all the retiring players) it has just been this constant feeling of it slipping away, step by step.

the thing is, for all we know KA could technically have changed her views / grown / whatever, but that doesn’t matter, i repeat, DOES NOT MATTER, as long as actions like that don’t meet proper repercussions from the us soccer association. it cannot be on the fans or singular players to take the responsibility of showing right and wrong, because they are not the one’s with real authority.

shit like this pushes the limits for what’s acceptable, because what happens when KA gets accompanied by even worse homophobes? what happens when other players implies that they wish injuries on teammates? suddenly, the culture and norms have been drastically changed because of the sole fact that not enough was done, and it pisses me off.

sorry for the long ass RANT but this has been on my mind a lot recently (and don’t even get me started on how much i miss the 2015-19 era team or i might cry)

anyways make the uswnt gay again

[thewritingofspencerrose]

M.Hughes Masterlist

First Day on the Job

It's chilly in the arena when we enter, hand in hand, for my first day.

Only a week into living here and I still don't fully think this has all set in.

I may be working on a medical team, but I'm going to be the first stop of all injured players as soon as they're off the ice.

It's all on me.

"Hey, what's going on in there?" A physical knocking on my forehead brings me from my thoughts, Trevor's smile being the first thing in front of me, mocking and coy.

Part of me wants to just smile and say I dazed off, but this is Trev, he's my partner in

"What if someone bleeds out? Or worse, what if everyone hates me?"

"What's the worst scenario?" Jamie questions from our side, not even attempting to save his laugh, Trevor pulling me closer to his body. "Everyone hating you?"

"You do realize everyone loves you right?" They're tag-teaming my nerves right now, and honestly I'm not even sure that'll be enough.

No exam prepared me for the nauseous anxiety that starting a lead job would bring.

"They don't know me!" It's a lame argument, but valid all the same as I pause just outside the locker room door. I know I'm allowed in. It's where I've been instructed to meet Coach Cronin and introduce myself to the boys.

"We have all heard literally everything about you, I'm pretty sure I could tell you things about yourself that you don't even know, Mags," his words are meant to be assuring, but assuring isn't loading properly right now.

"Then what if I don't live up to their idea of me?"

Even if I hadn't already been on the edge of a breakdown, the look on Trevor's face as he takes my shoulders, his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast.

"The boys already love you because I love you, and that's never going to change. So we're going to march your cute little ass into this lockerroom and wow everyone with all that Latin-anatomy-nonsense that we studied the last four years, got it?"

Sorry Dad, you better be saving for a wedding.

I just smile though, small and wide while he returns my look. But Jamie's groaning, moaning on about something involving us getting a room, and I can hear the sound of staff coming down the hall.

"Okay, let's get this over with so I can go home and rant about it with Q."

The boys both laugh, but Jamie is the one to open the door, Trev taking ahold of my hand with one of his, his other covering my eyes as he leads me into the loud atmosphere.

"Okay boys! Put 'em away! My girls here and unless you break 'em I want them nowhere near her eyeline!" Nevermind on the wedding, I may just kill him here and now.

"Trevor Zegras!" The team laughs loudly, oohing and ahhing while I pry Trev's hand off, and I can't help but laugh as I look out around me.

These boys are going to make me cry. Correction, I am crying.

"You guys-"

Trevor's hands wrap around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder and I can feel his smile. "Welcome to the team, Baby."

"And welcome to the team from the rest of us," the one I know to be Mason greets, everyone around clapping. "I'm not going to call you baby, because I value my life, but we're all really glad you're here, Margaret."

"Maggie," I correct softly, Mason's smile growing as Leo jumps up like a happy puppy.

"We get nickname privileges?"

There's a joy throughout the room as I take in his smile, the banner saying CONGRATULATIONS in Ducks colors, balloons and all sprawled about.

How could I not give these boys nickname privileges when they seem just as excited to see me as they would an old friend. It's like they're seeing Trev or Jamie after a long break.

"Of course you do, as long as y'all keep from getting too beat up," I offer, sticking out a hand. "Deal?"

"Deal to do our best," Leo accepts, shaking my hand as some of the veterans laugh.

Gudas just chuckling and shaking his head as he watches us both. "She's going to run this whole show."

[i-write-sin-not-tragedy]

...Top five Charlie moments, I'm curious.

Sorry this took so long!!! I had many feelings lol

Here we go!

5. Her ranting to Alastor

It's just a cute moment to me! I especially love Alastors aroace stare of death the enitre time but also i think its a good moment to highlight how Charlie works? If that makes sense. It was nice to see her ranting to him, frustrated and confused over the situation with Vaggie. A runner-up to this is definitely her talk with Rosie, but i particularly enjoyed seeing Charlie just. Ranting lol

4. Her Hugging Angel

YALL HAD TO KNOW THIS ONE WAS COMING i Have so many things to say about the end of episode 4 but this this is my favorite scene. Like they could have easily played it off or not really addressed it but Charlie waiting up till Husk brought Angel home???? Specifically so she could apologize to him?? Just overall her realizing that she messed up. Angel accecpting the apology and telling her he understands that she genuinely wanted to help him.

This scene means a lot it was so sweet it was so kskfkwkfkekdkwkd Charlie is such a kind hearted person and it was eating her alive to know in her fury and anger to protect Angel she inadvertently made things worse,,,,god. Sweet girl im so happy they hugged im so happy he reassured her it was okay, he knows her heart is in the right place.

3. "Just, come see what im trying to do here. It's really important to me."

I just aaaaaaa god FUCK. She genuinely cares about them so much. Charlie has found company and family in this band of misfits and at this point knows they all believe in her, and this scene melts me. Charlie telling her dad how important this is (and the flash to Angel and Pens faces and how those words alone mean so much to them ill cry)

Charlie believes in them so much. She calls them her family to adams face later on, and i melt

2. "What makes you think you can treat him like that!?"

Just. Angry Charlie. Charlie looking ready to beat Valentinos ass into the ground (and she probably would have had Angel not stepped in)

Like I genuinely believe she'd be pissed if she saw ANY of the other Hotel staff being treated like this, but I do think it being Angel played a part in HOW mad she got.

(Let me cook here okay)

Its like. Angel up till then had been making a point to not let on bad things were for him. He only ever called Val his "Boss". He actively hid and covered up his text messages. Charlie had been operating under the impression that Angel was an addict and sex worker, but she had absolutely no idea he was a victim.

Thats why i love this moment. You see it click in her head. The way she watches Val push Angel, the way her eyes follow, you can literally SEE her putting the pieces together, the Realization of just how much Angel was dealing with.

I can only imagine what was going on in her head but I think a big reason why she got SO angry in this scene is because she finally understands.

And shes ready to kill over it.

1. That's princess of Hell to you, pig."

I have very little to add to this besides that this is badass. I LOVE angry Charlie. i LOVE seeing her pissed off. She has been building up to this. She deserved this moment to look Adam in the eyes and remind him EXACTLY who the fuck hes talking to.