#i love it when relationships are horrible and toxic and awful and have a body count in the hundreds! 🥰

[camgoloud]

finally watching the interview with the vampire show as i have been thinking about doing for several months and. boy. that lestat sure can lestat!

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

why i love aziraphale and why i find his character so heartbreaking

So I made a post on why I relate to Crowley and I adore him, obviously. I think a few you misunderstood what I meant there, though (which is understandable, I was a bit incoherent but that is inevitable on this blog). I wasn't saying Aziraphale didn't care about Crowley or was horrible to him, rather the opposite.

What I was saying was maybe Crowley felt unloved against his better judgement, because he knows he is loved by Aziraphale, but maybe everything he has been through has started to chip away at that knowledge. It's happened to me, I'm sure it's happened to a few of you. You are assured that you are loved, you can see them doing things for you, but you feel unloved. Maybe because of the other people who don't love you. Maybe because... you don't love yourself.

But I definitely wasn't putting down Aziraphale, who is a beautiful character. I adore him. I love how every single second, all his emotions are on his face. That's actually how I realised they'd switched bodies--in heaven, 'Aziraphale' had a cool, dismissive look on his face. That could only be Crowley, I knew, because Crowley is a bit better (not a lot, not around Azi of course) at masking his emotions.

That's what's so beautiful about Azi, we can just see how much he feels, how much he adores Crowley, how much hope he had, how much faith in Heaven, how much determination to do the right thing. How determined he is to keep Crowley safe, to make Crowley smile and laugh, and how much it kills him every time he has to push Crowley away for both of their sakes, or he thinks he has to. You both want to protect that optimism and faith, and also shake him and tell him the truth. But how do we know better than him, a 6000 year old angel? There's so much that we don't know, that may have happened behind the scenes, that's orchestrating his decisions.

Some of you are certain that there is more, that he doesn't still believe that what Heaven offers is genuine, because how could he? I'm also sure that there is more, but can I also offer an alternate idea? Even if there wasn't more, maybe he isn't to blame if he did continue to believe in Heaven's goodness.

We've been in toxic relationships. With friends, partners, family. I know how hard it is to accept that something you love is not worthy of that love. Something you admired is something flawed. Something you would do anything to keep is something you need to push away.

The worst of all, of course, is that time, somewhere in our childhood or teens or adulthood, when a lot of us realise our parent or parents are not heroes. That we don't agree with them. That they were wrong about a lot of things. Because they taught us everything, they were our guides, how could they be wrong? And if we can't believe in them, then what are we supposed to believe in?

Maybe Aziraphale is going through that journey, over all those millennia. Some of us are forced to realise it before we even turn ten, some of us haven't realised it yet, some of us may not ever or may not need to.

Maybe Aziraphale is just a child of God, realising that Heaven, his technical family, is not the Good that not only they but the entire world believes them to be. Everyone says Heaven is good, including a lot of Hell, including a lot of humankind, it's just given. What is Heavenly is good. And Aziraphale wants to be good.

But he's going through that painful journey of realising that good may not be what he was taught, that good comes in many shades and tints and hues. And we can see him do it, we can see him defy Heaven and God, for Crowley or for humans or for himself. He's doing it, and we need to see how it isn't easy for him. Having your entire system of belief deconstructed is painful and awful. And if you were wrong once, how do you know you won't be the next time?

It's hard enough for Crowley, torn between whether he was unworthy or whether Heaven was wrong. Imagine the tumult that Aziraphale goes through, because if Heaven accepts him and Heaven isn't always good, does that mean Aziraphale has been doing it all wrong all his life?

He's going through something that we all go through, and is every bit as relatable as Crowley is. I love them both so much. I'm so glad that there's a third season, to see how that arc closes, to see if maybe they find the answers we're all looking for.

@adverbian and @howmanyholesinswisscheese, I hope this helps? Again, I haven't watched season 2 yet and have a horrible memory since I've been watching season 1 heavily medicated, so this is just from what I know and can tell and headcanon, perhaps.

[evanpeterswifeyyy]

Rant about AHS Coven ship(s).

Since yall love my based rants so much, I have another quarrel.

I love feisty queers with homoerotic friendships just as much as the next person, but can we please STOP shipping Zoe and Madison?

It’s not because I don’t see the vision, or don’t like the idea of the ship or yada yada.

It’s because Madison is ABUSIVE. Even to Zoe. Especially to Zoe.

Madison abuses Zoe’s boyfriend by having sex with him in front of her so she can get jealous of the fact that Madison was with him.

Madison forces Zoe into a threesome when she clearly doesn’t want to, and she only gives in when Kyle gives out his hand to her. And in the same scene clearly taunts Zoe by saying they could “share” Kyle, despite knowing Zoe has feelings for him, and even saying she knows in that same moment. Yet she still brings up the idea and drags her out of the bathroom to have sex.

Madison mind controlled Kyle and made him do awful things in front of Zoe just to spite/ upset her.

Madison verbally berates her boyfriend and calls him things like “boy toy/ candy” and “ken doll”. And it’s not even just what she does to Kyle.

She ignored Zoe’s distress in seeing the bodies of the accident. She disregards her feelings after she accidentally killed Kyle, even though she knew Zoe cared.

She let Zoe die even though bringing her back could prove that she is the next supreme, which is what she wanted.

I know there could be an argument that “oh, she’s just upset she likes Kyle and is trying to make her jealous” or “that’s just her personality and she secretly likes her” or something along those lines, but you are excusing the fact that Madison is meant to be an abusive and destructive character to justify your queer ship.

There are plenty of characters inside and out of Coven who you could headcannon as queer that aren’t the two people who hate each other the most, let alone w/ one who abuses the other and everyone around them straight up.

Like Misty Day and Cordelia could be plausible, in my eyes. Marie Laveau and Fiona are also a great example in my eyes. They even teamed up together and put aside their quarrels to defeat a common enemy. Both are users of/ without men, strong, independent and clearly have chemistry.

In summary:

Madison is cunty, but she’s also a cunt.

Please stop shipping queer abusive relationships. Madison and Zoe are so toxic together even if it looks like an attractive pairing.

Even if they were together, it would be a horrible relationship.

I’d totally be for it if she actually had some sort of redemption arch, but she’s practically the exact same even all the way through apocalypse.

Zoe deserves better than Madison, at the very least.

Thanks for coming to my 50th Ted Talk. We will be back shortly I’m counting.

[sad-ghost-of-garbage]

Ivy Act I

Author: SadGhostofGarbage

David x G/N reader and Michael x G/N reader

Warnings: MDNI! TOXIC relationships, DARK fic, swearing, cheating on a partner, torture, mental manipulation, pet names, David calls himself daddy but like he’s not wrong. Mentions of sex. Reader having insecurities. 

This is a multipart fic and will be five parts. The warnings are for the entire fic not each part. Yes it was inspired by Taylor Swifts song Ivy. 

Act I WINTER 

The night air was crisp, the ocean adding bite to the cool winter air. It had been winter when you had met him…David, he had charmed his way into a date with you. One turned into two and just like that everyone knew you were his. You no longer got hassled at the boardwalk, not by any locals anyway. But just as the creeps disappeared so did your friends, one by one they slowly started making excuses for not being able to hang out. What hurt the most was when you caught them all hanging out, without you. You couldn't understand why your friends would treat you that way, driving you to spend more time in the blonde’s open and waiting arms. 

“Why don’t they like me? Did I do something to make them hate me?” David was holding you against him as you cried in his arms.

“You don’t need them darling, they were shit friends anyway.” Stammering and stuttering you try to defend them against such harsh words.

“No they-” you’re cut off with a finger to your lips.

“Good friends don’t ghost people.” With a swipe of his thumb over your lips he moves to cup your cheek and continues, “good friends don’t make their friends cry.” As if emphasizing his point he wipes the tears off your cheeks. “They think that you’re useless.” Wincing at his words you try and squirm away but he has a tight grip on your chin. “They don’t need you.” Whimpering at his word you try to beg him to stop, to not say such horrible things. 

Things that you knew were true. 

“They don’t need you, but I do.”

Winter had quickly become your favorite, enjoying the bite of frigid ocean air as you raced down the beach on the back of David’s bike. Not having a care in the world as everyone else was bundled up inside taking shelter from the cold, you embraced it. The cold reminded you of David, his touch and his love, the winter reminded you of him. Not once did you crave the scorching heat of summer but you preferred to retreat back into your haven of ice and snow. The only warmth you craved was the billow of smoke that your lover sometimes gracefully breathes into your lungs while sharing a kiss. Hours; you’d spend every waking hour with David if you could, and he let you. He let you cling to him like a lost child, never letting go of him as he took you along on nightly escapades. The longer you were in David’s arms the harder it was to let go when it was time to go. No matter how much time you spent with him it never felt like it was enough, you wanted to be with him constantly. 

“David, do you have to go? Can’t I go with you guys? Please I’ll be good, I promise!” 

“Ah ah ah, no can do doll. It’s just me and the boys tonight.” The smirk on his face was impossible to miss as he chuckled at your whine of displeasure. “What’s the matter, doll? You gonna throw a fit?” 

“No. But I- I just-“ shame making you fall silent it was silly and you were over reacting. A gloved hand tilts your chin upward to face him.

“Tell me kitten.” As soon as your eyes meet his blue ones, a shiver rolls through your body as if it had been filled with ice. 

“I-it’s, it’s just that I miss you when you’re gone.” Looking away out of embarrassment you miss the way David relishes in your admission. Doing well to mask his pride as amusing concern he asks,

“Aw, is that so kitten?” His thumb running back and forth on your cheek providing some comfort, “Don’t worry about it doll. I’ll spend all night with you tomorrow, okay? The boys and I have things to do tonight.”

“Okay David.” With a frigid kiss to your forehead he was gone. That night was miserable, without David to keep your mind together what were you supposed to do? You were anxious, was this how it was always going to feel? 

Lonely?

Numb?

Cold hands wrap around yours stopping you from continuing to pick at your sweaters loose thread. Looking up into David’s crystal blue eyes has every worry in your mind floating away with the winter wind. Gone were your troubled thoughts, all replaced with the thoughts of David. His presence is imposing, even in your thoughts, he was all consuming; it was as if you couldn’t think of anything else. The rest of the night is a blur of shivers and blue eyes that blind like a blizzard. And it was marvelous. Yet still the loneliness poked and prodded at the edges of your mind. The nights spent with David are exhilarating, leaving you gasping at the frigid air, leaving you dreaming of the next night you get to spend with him. While you were eager for the nights to fall, you dreaded the dawn like the living dread a grave. Days were debilitating, panic attacks wracked through your body when you were awake leaving you yearning for the relief of rest. But the anxiety wouldn’t let you sleep. A new feeling started consuming you when the sunlight reminded you that you were alone. 

Numb.

Alone.

Slowly it began to creep into your thoughts, if David wasn’t with you, the loneliness ate away at your heart.

Tagging the gorgeous @britany1997 like always thank you for putting up with me while I was writing this, love you baby!

[liamsyux]

im insane and william is the loml so this an analysis + his relationship with sherlock

a kinda long rant with my opinions on his character and some facts i think that could be true (hc) and some canon facts.

i tried to analyze him because he’s literally the love of my life and mtp is my all ass personality.

william is very smart. and that’s the pure truth. the fact that since he was a kid he was aware of his potential and used it for helping others means how charismatic he is. people tend do say it’s a bad copying mechanism using your own body in order to get things you want, and i don’t think that is totally different when you talk about how william used his intelligence (and not only that) for getting food and a home.

i think that could also count as a toxic way for getting things.

he always prioritized his brother and people before him and that shows how little he considers himself. when he was a kid he saw the world he lived in, he saw the horrible london he was forced to survive in, and decided to make it a better place. not because he wanted to live in a better place but because he wanted people to live in a better place.

he never had a high consideration of himself and never actually cared about himself and i think the only person who helped him live in a ‘normal’ way was his brother louis. but that counts for when they were kids. i think that when he grow older and actually had in mind the ‘perfect plan’ he tried on purpose to stop louis from helping him live an actual good life. all he could think was his plan, because if he did not, then all the qualities he had were wasted.

he was sure he didn’t deserve a free life because since he decided that the only way to change london was using criminality he started to hate himself. he couldn’t stand the thought of a person so awful, such as himself, who killed other people, could actually have a good life.

so, you may think, why did he do that? why did he have to ‘kill’ the people and define his own destiny?

well he did it because he knew that was the only way for a change and that nobody could ever do it.

so it had to be him.

and since his plan was to kill every vile and awful demon that lived in london he also had to kill himself, that because he considered himself the worst demon between all them, the demon who ‘killed them all’.

as i was saying, when william got older he got slowly more detached to his brother and started day after day to live in a world became at this point all dark. and it didn’t matter how the people around him were close to him or were trying to help him. he thought he deserved this and that also because all the people he had around couldn’t understand him.

and that is how sherlock comes around. a man full of mistery himself, a brilliant detective, someone who suddenly caught william attention because william himself noticed that this ‘sherlock’ was different from others. it was like he was similar to him. he canonically says that when he met sherlock for the first time he ‘forgot about his plan’. and that is, for sure, something really important.

him, william james moriarty, who lived in the dark, surrounded with nothing but his criminal mastermind plan, suddenly felt lighter, suddenly forgot about all the pression he had, just because he met him, sherlock holmes; the man who he felt a connection with, that knew was reciprocated.

when they separated he was still kinda upset but cleared his mind and decided to put sherlock as a part of his plan.

little did he know, sherlock was not destined to just be a pawn.

sherlock ended up being literally the person that saved him from the plan he himself created.

william was drowning in the darkness of his plan, he gave up on everything, even his own life, that he thought was ‘not worthy to be lived’. but sherlock didn’t agree. well actually both of his brother did not agree too but sherlock was the only one who ended up actually saving him.

sherlock became the ‘light’ in william’s life and that’s why every distraction from his plan he had was suddenly nullified unless it was sherlock. he was happy sherlock distracted him because he couldn’t stand the weight of carrying everything alone anymore.

i guess he kinda always knew about his really feelings for sherlock, but never accepted them, on the contrary he hated himself even more because he thought that a despicable human being like him should’t be allowed to feel such beautiful things.

but when he wrote the letter to sherlock he let it go. he decided it didn’t matter anymore and since he was destined to die he wanted to let the detective know everything. that because he already give up.

and sherlock, of course, didn’t agree with that.

when sherlock jumped with him, william couldn’t believe it. sherlock was actually falling with him. sherlock embraced death with william. but why? sherlock did not deserve to die, not him.

but maybe wasn’t death what sherlock was embracing with liam. it was a new life. a new life that liam thought that didn’t deserved, but when sherlock hugged him he suddenly watched the world starting to be filled with colors. (he canonically says it).

he was literally light up by a new light, that was sherlock himself. he didn’t think he deserved a new possibility, but if sherlock did, then he wouldn’t waste the choice the detective created for him.

after the final problem it can be said that william started to live again, or, maybe, learned to do it for the first time.

and that, people, all thanks to sherlock.

(sherliam canon)

[summersmithlatinxgyatt]

Okay so I did watch some of Bethic Twinstinct but it did not dissuade me. Even if the episode was good, I would be more mad because of missed potential and falling off. So let's not have that as a suggestion against me because this episode was HORRIBLE. I will try not to ramble and still provide enough information for each argument

Bethcest is awful and toxic. I think there's no saving it without fundamentally changing the entire dynamic and Space Beth, meaning it's not even the same ship at that point

Let's start with Space Beth herself. She has almost no unique attributes. What I hate is how she's useless most of the time. All of her dialog is just slightly raunchier and meaner/sarcastic but it just comes AFTER Beth speaks and has the same message behind it. Why even bother

And when was the last time she contributed so much to the plot or was even at the center of the conflict?

She feels way too similar to Beth. It feels so weird seeing this completely different Beth just adjust to living in the household kinda fine? I wish there were more episodes where she’s the center of the conflict because it must’ve been hard to live with a woman like that. It feels wrong to see someone like this…do nothing most of the time? She doesn’t even really have a personality outside of being a slightly edgier Beth, like I said. Her dialog patterns reflect that and she rarely is seen alone without Beth

Not to mention that I feel like The ABC’s of Beth did this topic WAY better. We got to see Beth embrace bloodshed AND trying to realize that her flaws come from herself as well, needing to embrace that and take some level of action against it. I always see Space Beth and Bethcest as a whole as an embodiment of that episode. The only difference is that episode was actually good

I’ll detour quickly to talk about how Beth’s character has changed over the show. Season 3 did SO MUCH FOR HER and I’m glad it even exists. The Rickshank Rickdemption shows her drinking her sorrows away and later on choosing Rick over her own husband. And as much of a meme Pickle Rick is, that episode shows that Rick refuses to change mentally and emotionally - yet will change his entire body and willingly put himself into situations where he doesn’t change his MINDSET, just his body. And Beth allows it to happen because she holds him to a higher regard than anyone else in the family. Again, there’s The ABC’s of Beth that continues this theme of Beth and Rick’s relationship

I really wish that Space Beth would’ve instantly been at Beth’s neck for this. Beth has been trying to move away from this level of relationship by changing how she thinks. To get better, she has to change her way of thinking AND her relationship with Rick. So why is it okay to have her date a clone of herself? That is literally making things worse

Bethic Twinstinct has that scene of them in space where they claim that they’ve been more emotionally tied together and growing together, but we rarely got to see that and it’s already episode 3. And I fucking hate how, to illustrate how close they are, they just start talking about how they find themselves attractive and attracted to each other. It just shows that this is a sexual relationship, not a romantic one

To tie things back to Jerry, it would be retconning the relationship Jerry and Beth has by implying that sex was the void in the relationship. That retcon stays consistent because Beth pursues a sexual relationship with Space Beth and eventually ropes in Jerry. It doesn’t help how most of the time, the cliche of a woman cheating on her partner with another woman is less about sexuality afterward and is more about trying to fill in the void - even though in the moment it’s just yearning for sex and understanding. And even worse, it portrays the sapphic relationship as ONLY being sexual. This is another stereotype and YET AGAIN, this is so fetishistic in so many ways

By having Beth love herself this way, we already are retconning the faults of her relationship with Jerry. But even worse is the fundamental idea happening. Everyone points out that “It makes sense since she’s so self-absorbed”. But she ISN'T. Beth RUNS AWAY FROM HER FAULTS, when has she ever fully embraced them? She is known for drinking and dwelling in sadness before acting like it didn’t happen. She also stays around Rick to fill that void he left so many years ago and upholding him higher than the rest of the family she built and regrets (for the most part). If she was so self-absorbed that she wanted to have sex with herself, then why does she follow Rick around the most? If she was so self-absorbed, why is one of her traits being ignorant to her own faults without first mentioning that they apparently aren’t flaws? This is such a small thing people overlook. Even if the idea that she’s narcissistic and deflecting applies to this dynamic, there’s still more that would contradict it and her character

I would have LOVED it if Space Beth was actually ruthless. She feels so watered down and just stands in the background. Here’s my approach:

Try to build up the relationship in brief interactions or even having it be a subplot at first. I don’t think Space Beth can even interact in a family in any healthy manner. She would probably be trying to remove all of Rick’s failsafes to replace them with her own. She’d be trying to take the kids to school. In fact, she’d probably stand there shellshocked at the SIGHT of Morty and Summer because it’s an overwhelming sight to see the other Beth having kids

Even if she settled differences with Rick, the dynamic should persist if you want to make the character different. I would’ve loved to see Beth and Space Beth actually be a thing. YES. As much as I hate this and have listed its issues, it can be salvaged a bit

Imagine if the plot started with Space Beth and Beth having an actual romantic moment that’s interrupted with Space Beth saying something about her and Rick’s relationship. Maybe while saying she loves her, she says she wishes she could stop being around Rick all the time

Or maybe, as Rick takes Morty and Summer out for an adventure, she says they cannot go with him and instead offers herself, leading to her and Rick having a quiet yet tense drive in his ship because she doesn’t want the kids hurt and wants to watch him closely

These two ideas would serve as ways to start the conflict of the episode. To show she’s different, MAKE HER DIFFERENT. Have her actually hate Rick and be so protective of the family actively. This would lead Beth to try to step in, but here’s the thing - Space Beth is right

The internal conflict for Beth would be having to change for herself twice over, because she’s appeasing a clone. In trying to fall in love with Space Beth, she’d have to be better for herself, LITERALLY. That’s the entire point. Maybe she changes how she interacts with Rick but also tells Space Beth that everything will be okay. That would be the wake-up call for her. Yeah, maybe it’s very late to do this kind of thing, but you can insert it with any kind of conflict that would normally be fine with Beth and divide Space Beth

If she’s going to date herself, she’ll change herself. She needs to change

Space Beth needs to be VERY distinct. She needs to serve actual narrative purpose. Also, this relationship can stop hinging on sex because it completely changes Jerry and Beth’s relationships and even characters. Finally, CAN THIS NOT BE FETISHISTIC AND FOLLOW HOMOPHOBIC STEREOTYPES? Not to mention have such a random build-up to just drop the idea over the course of several episodes?

That’s all. If you ship Bethcest, I don’t hate you. But I hate the actual dynamic shown in the show. This could be WAY longer but this is more condensed. I just want her to not have a boring character and serve a bigger purpose to the show and Beth

Because honestly, we could use a sweet sapphic relationship if Sumncy doesn’t happen. I WANT them to succeed, but none of it feels genuine at all. It's so much missed potential I can still go on about

Oh and also i fucking hope that this level of bad writing doesn’t happen to summer.

[myersesque]

i think one of my fav things abt the chucky show so far (as of and up to 2x1) is that it feels to me like chucky and tiff's relationship is a lot more balanced than it was in, say, bride. they're both equally violent, and equally affectionate.

as you may be able to tell from my username, i've always liked chucky as a character, but their dynamic did sometimes feel to me like tiff got the short straw. in bride and seed it always sorta felt to me like tiff was the good one and chucky was the bad one, as much as i loved them - but now, in the show, it feels more balanced. they're both awful people who have oddly sweet moments together, yknow?

chucky has a little monologue in 1x5 about how much he loves tiff, despite the turbulence of their relationship. their whole body disposal expert argument felt like one of - if not THE - first time that chucky was the reasonable one in their arguments. the reveal that tiff was responsible for chucky's first death back in 1988 completely recontextualises him killing her in bride, even if he didn't know it at the time. even just tiny little moments, like chucky casually pointing out that the blood matches tiff's lipstick and nails, or tiff saying she's thrilled that chucky's exploring his sexuality, or chucky admitting he finds it hot when tiff yells at him - it feels more believable that they genuinely love each other imo, as twisted and horrible as they are at showing it.

idk. they're still absolutely my Emotional Support Toxic Ship - nobody has ever accused them of having a healthy dynamic - but it feels a lot less one-sided now. i really appreciate it.

[rawstfish]

Yes talk to us about Ghost's "love life" 🙏

YES LETS GOOO

I'm going to be using the comic for Ghosts background, and also I headcanon Ghost as gay.

I think during his high school years is where he had a lot of flings and just horrible relationships. He was having a shit time in general, so he was using men to get a short time of satisfaction. I can imagine him having one actual boyfriend, but it being a huge toxic mess on both of their parts. I know Ghosts mental state as a teenager was fucking awful, it still is but slightly better.

After high school, he kinda stopped having sex and getting into relationships. He was focusing on joining the military and getting his training done. He was using training as his outlet at the time. Over working himself to the point of passing out or throwing up everything he ate that day. However after that, he went right back to fucking whoever was of interest to him. I don't think you could have stopped him. This went on until he got caught up with the Cartel. Kinda hard to think about fucking when your being tortured and your whole family died. I think he once again fell into a "no sex" phase after killing Roba.

He started using training and even missions as his outlet once again. His whole body would constantly be covered in scars, and he would kill his targets in the worst way possible. He was also keeping himself busy so he wouldn't have time to think about anything but his mission. It wasn't until he met Mace that this was kinda put on a halt. Now his and Maces relationship was doomed from the beginning. Ghost was using Mace to feel better, and Mace was using Ghost to feel better. It started off as just sparring and beating the absolute shit out of each other. But both of them felt something more as this went on, and eventually, they were a "couple." I'm using couple very loosely here. They were constantly on and off. Always getting mad at one another, but never actually able to leave the other. It wasn't until Mace fled from his PMC group that they were "official" broken up.

Official is in quotation marks because they are both still very involved with each other. Ghost has seen Mace after his PMC days and vise verse. They still talk on messages and even coms (This canon that they still bicker and fight btw. It's from a piece of Intel found in Warzone, but you literally can't get it anymore bc of Black Ops Cold War). Ghost is now quite literally whoring around because I think he still has feelings for Mace. He can fuck other dudes but he can not be in a relationship with them because they aren't Mace. Mace understands Ghost. No one can handle Ghost like Mace can. This is also vise verse. So, for me, I think Ghost only plans to fuck Soap and not go any further. He's flirting with him, yes, but it's so he can get his dick wet. Soap, however, generally likes and wants to date Ghost, but he could never handle Ghost like Mace can.

[beevean]

For the ship bingo: Mactor, Hecula, Issactor, Maleon and Walthias.

Mactor done here!

Hecula:

Free space: it's so horrible and disgusting and abusive and problematic and I'm a horrible person 🥰

Love them love them love them. Hitting that sweet sweet sweet mentor/protégé dynamic I crave. Hector being Dracula's mirror by design, because he was raised that way, because Dracula saw himself in him. Hector being Dracula's best creation, the only one he can be proud of. Hector being torn between his pride and his deep need to be loved no matter what. Hector rejecting his Lord and savior and choosing himself because he has learned that he deserves better than conditional love, but still carrying with him the scars left by the one who did everything for him and to him. Hector having his revenge on that monster by using his very power to kill him and nullify his poisonous influence.

... Someday I'll convince other people to make art for them :< I just need to spread the propaganda harder :< in the meantime, there is a certain fun to be had when you are the literal only person in the fandom who controls the ship lol

Isaactor:

The other themmmmmm 🥺

A big classic. The divorsties ❤️ why do you think I've been stuck writing a big ass fic about their deteriorating relationship? They break my heart. They could have been happy together, as the two rejects of humanity, but things... just weren't meant to be that way, and they grew apart, and then they destroyed each other's life. I have a lot of fun making myself depressed by imagining them at their most toxic, as they do love each other but they don't have any healthy means of expressing their affection.

Anyway, Isaac writing Hector's name under his boot is for me canon proof he was crushing hard lmao. Press f for his poor little gay heart.

Maleon:

... I'm actually not that big on them lol. They're fine, but as divorsties go, I prefer Isaactor slowly growing distant than Maleon's sudden betrayal. Mathias proposing Leon to join him in immortality as if he didn't cause Sara's death will never get old, though lmao

Walthias:

Bastard vs. bastard ❤️

Not much to say. They're both awful and it's fun to imagine Walter playing games with this frail alchemist because he's a piece of shit who thinks he's all that, while Mathias has wrapped him around his finger and can't wait to put him inside his body 😏 the fun part is, ofc, that they're not so different after all.

(I actually think most LoI ships that are not Maleon deserve more love, no matter how cracky)

[katscki]

can i please get a bakugou x fem!reader who is alone on valentine’s day at a bar and her toxic ex walks in and she has to pretend to be dating anyone 🥺🥺🥺

YES YES YES

More Thankful Than You Know

bakugou x reader

masterlist

wc: 770

cw: kinda hurt to comfort, protective bakugou😤, shitty ex, cursing

What else were you supposed to do when your asshole ex walked in?

To put it simply, you hated valentine's day. When you’re alone that is, which also happens to be the case today. So, as most people do when they’re lonely, you make your way to the nearest bar to drown out your sorrow. This wasn’t how you had expected to spend the love filled day, about a month ago you were still in a relationship, well that’s before you came home one night and see your asshole ex-boyfriend trying to pack up and leave with some bimbo while you were at work.

As you walk in and make a beeline for the bar seating, a sigh leaves your lips at the multitudes of people in there like a nightclub, all of which had the same idea as you. Not even thinking you just take the closest seat to you not caring who was by you. Finally, being able to order your drink and take the first swig was the best thing that had happened that week, well until you hear the familiar taunting voice. Looking at the door with wide eyes you see him, the breath leaves your lungs and you're frantically looking for an escape. He can’t see you, not here alone, not moping the way you are. Without thinking you turn to the stranger next to you finally taking in your surroundings.

The words come out all at once all blurred together in a hurried state, “Look I know you don’t know me but that guy over there was horrible to me, and he can’t know I'm here by myself or god knows what will happen. So please please pleaaase help me.” You whisper to the significantly larger male next to you. He says nothing in response and looks over your shoulder at your ex.

“Fine. But you owe me another drink.” He says in a gruff, deep voice. You spring up from your sitting place and fling yourself on him for a hug, “Oh thank you, thank you so much!” When you come to your senses you push yourself off him while muttering an apology, to which he just shrugs. “Oh, and by the way my name’s-”

“Y/N! Hey doll, what’re ya doin here?!” There it was, the dreaded moment you had been waiting for. The stranger sees the discomfort in your eyes, and he immediately puts a comforting hand on the small of your back. He had been nicer to you in two minutes than your ex had been in two years.

“Oh? What’s this doll? Had to get a rebound guy to get over me huh?” He coos in a sickly-sweet voice that just made you deflate even more. “I-I-”

“Aw, all choked up to see me too. How sweet!” The stranger could watch any longer before he stood up showing his heroic body in all its glory. You didn’t notice it before, but he was attractive, very attractive, standing at about 6’7 and a massive build, he was practically a god.

He steps in front of you in a protective manner, now towering over your ex. You see the life leave his eyes at how much larger the male is.

“What you had to get a bodyguard to protect you cause you’re so scared of me? Tch whatever have her, she’s a worthless whore anyways.” The statement makes your fists curl around the back of his shirt as tears well in your eyes.

At this point the whole bar has gone quiet at the scene, the stranger gently removes your clinging form before he roughly grips your ex by his collar and personally escorts him outside. With him screaming and kicking like a toddler with a tantrum. He throws him out the door watching him land on the hard concrete with a thud before speaking,

“If you ever so much as look at her again, your ass is mine.” Unsure of why he felt so obligated to stand up for you, he shakes the feeling, hearing the entire establishment clapping with pride for the man.

“You are a lifesaver!!! I can’t tell you how thankful I am! Um excuse me can I get another one of whatever he’s having?” You ask the bartender.

“S’no problem. S’what heroes do.” He says while sitting back down.

“H-hero?” Your voice shrinking a bit as you speak. To that he turns to smirk at you before saying, “Katsuki Bakugou, or better known as Dynamight, nice to be of service pretty.” He watches your jaw fall open as he takes the first sip of his new drink. Oh he’s gonna love having you around.

[jesterrrrr-x]

Okay I need to make this so people know.

Jestrox, the ship between Jestro and Monstrox, is an awful, horrible, abusive ship. If you ship it, get the fuck of my page. I don't wanna hear your stupid ass fetishization of this abusive relationship. You're actually scum.

Monstrox is an abuser and Jestro is a victim. Shipping them is so fucking disgusting it makes me, as a victim of abuse, sick. Seeing the way people greatly mischaracterise the relationship they have is actually repulsive.

Monstrox's actions aren't "Cute UwU". He MANIPULATED Jestro. He saw Jestro when he was at his lowest point and took advantage of him. He never "Cared" about him. He only wanted him so he could take his body. Jestro was a not a person to Monstrox, he was on object to control and possess. He was nothing but a possession to Monstrox. He GASLIT Jestro all throughout season 1 and 2, making him believe he was nothing, that the only thing he was good at was the thing Monstrox WANTED him to be. He isolated Jestro from the people who truly cared about him so he would be easier to manipulate and control. When Jestro ran away from him with the book of betrayal Monstrox says "Where's my Jestro?!" that's not a "Oh he cares so much! That's so cute" NO. That is Monstrox upset because someone took HIS "Property" Jestro is an object to Monstrox, an object that only he can have. He literally only wanted Jestro so that he could possess his body, he never cared about him as a person, he only wanted him for the use he had, he literally just threw him away once Clay said he'd take his place. There was no "My Jestro" once Clay said he'd be Monstroxs new vessel because Jestro was simply a replaceable object.

AND IT GETS EVEN WORSE IN SEASON 3 AND 4. Instead of the the clear emotional and mental abuse in the previous seasons, now we've added physical abuse to the mix! Jestro had finally left this abusive relationship that fucked up his mental health for probably MONTHS, he was free, he was happy, he finally realised he WAS worth something and that he DID have people who cared about him, something Monstrox had convinced him wasn't true. THEN Monstrox shows up like a shitty ex and tries to manipulate Jestro back into there toxic situation but this time Jestro know better. He refuses because he knows that Monstrox is bad and y'know what Monstrox did? HE FORCED JESTRO BACK INTO EVIL. FORCED. He zapped him WHICH WE KNOW HURTS and forcibly turned him evil when he refused to be manipulated by him once again. And if that wasn't bad enough throughout the entire seasons Monstrox physically abuses Jestro RELENTLESSLY. Whenever Jestro implies that he is breaking out of the control or disobeys Monstrox he ZAPS HIM INTO SUBMISSION. THATS NOT CUTE. WHY DO PEOPLE THINK IT IS?? Jestro is SUFFERING because of Monstrox. He doesn't want to be a part of this abusive relationship but he has no choice. He is physically and emotionally abused by Monstrox. And at the end of it all JESTRO is the one punished. Nobody believes him. Nobody believes he was forced and he is made to clean up after his abuser. That is horrible. It's disgusting. Why do people see this as an " Adorable UwU cute gay couple" when it is one of the most blatant cases of abuse ever. Jestro deserves so much better than someone who stalked, physically and emotionally abused him and was overall a shitty abusive dickhead.

If you ship Jestrox, stay the fuck away from me. I would just LOVE to hear you argue with me about how you ship an abuse victim with his abuser but I wouldn't. Go touch some fucking grass. That is all I wanted to say. Have nice day, except if you ship Jestrox, then don't. Die. As an abuse victim myself. We don't want you here tainting what's left of the fandom. Fuck off.💅☺️

[lytefoot]

Am I the only one who feels more sorry for Dudley Dursley every time I read through the books?

Like, this poor child. He has incredibly toxic parents, and has been encouraged to relate to people in ways that can’t ultimately be pleasant. He has a completely disordered relationship with food and his body, which will only be made worse by the absolutely torturous diet his school puts him on (as a 14-year-old no less). Smeltings sounds like an utterly horrific experience overall.

And then, on top of that, he’s got absolute evidence throughout his childhood that his parents’ love is most certainly conditional--and that it’s vitally important to stay on their good side. And then every time he encounters magic, it’s Dudley, as the person in the equation with no power, that gets beat up by it. (Hagrid giving him a tail. The twins’ slipping him that toffee. The dementors. About the only thing he didn’t get the brunt of was Dobby hucking the pudding.)

Meanwhile, this poor kid is not very bright (that’s not his fault!), and he just wants to have a quiet life, play video games, watch TV. Like, during the bit with the letters when Uncle Vernon goes totally unhinged, and Dudley’s getting dragged all over the countryside? And he’s missing his TV shows and his video games and hating being trapped in the car forever with nothing to do? Frankly #relatable.

Just, poor kid. Why the heck does this fandom go out of its way to woobify Draco Malfoy and ignore the heck out of Dudley? (I mean, we know why, but seriously.) Like Draco, Dudley is an awful child... who has been raised to be so by parents who are frankly horrible people. And unlike Draco, he actually realized, in the text, he’d been awful, and he tried to be better.

There’s no such thing as “deserving” a redemption arc, but if anyone ever deserved one, it’s Dudley Dursley.

[cinnamonest]

//some horrendous gaslighting

I love my stranger-to-noncon very much but I don't give enough attention to consensual relationships taking a turn for the worse, or utterly toxic and abusive boyfriends and Kaeya is the perfect candidate for that so here we go.

-----

I've mentioned before the Kaeya would be exceptionally violent in comparison to other yanderes, but it's important to note that he's also among the most emotionally sensitive, and those two things do not go together well.

Not sensitive outwardly, of course, he's spent years developing that personality of his as a defense mechanism, can easily pretend he doesn't care about anything, but deep down that abandonment complex and those insecurities are strong and easily triggered. Some of the ways it manifests are mild, like how he gets overly attached to you within a week of knowing you, commits and tries to move way too fast even in completely mutual and consensual relationships. The kind of guy that suggests moving in together a week into the relationship, and dropping I love you so early on that you're left to merely blink in surprise because you barely know each other, but under the pressure and awkwardness you find yourself stuttering out a reciprocation, even though it's quite untrue. Guilt-trips and pressures his way into fucking you within a couple of days.

He's a very different person behind closed doors, it comes out maybe a month in when he lets the walls drop and lets himself trust you. He's more vulnerable, sweeter. Oddly... Eager to trust. It's like he desperately wants someone he can latch onto and show some vulnerability around and chose you to be that someone.

But also different in other ways. More... Bitter. More grumpy. More immature.

He's not sensitive in general, he doesn't really care about what most people say or do, but that sensitivity comes out once he's attached to a person, which happens rather quickly. You start noticing it rather quickly in a mutual relationship, and it likely shocks you honestly that he's so... immature. You spend the day with one of your friends -- just one, catch up with them, haven't seen them in a while... and when you get home things are rather quiet. He's usually a very talkative person, so you can't figure out what's wrong. Maybe something bad happened, but he insists no, it's fine. There's nothing wrong. And then you catch the last part, much quieter, spoken under his breath in that lighthearted tone he speaks in, yet with a bitterness to it.

You wouldn't care anyway, you're too busy with your friends.

It takes you by surprise at first because holy shit, really? It seems so petulant that it can't possibly be real, but... Maybe he really did have a bad day and is just getting his anger out by directing it at the first thing he can. That's not right, but hey, everyone has weak moments where they do some bad things. Besides, you weren't there for him, so he feels worse right? Still, you spent every day the past month except this one day with him... No, it's just poor timing, that's all.

Until it happens again. And again. And he swears he likes your friends, smiles at them, but it... Looks forced. Always complaining that you spend so much time with them and completely ignore him. Do you even care? Do you value the relationship at all? You try to not get angry and be rational, but still defend yourself because you spend almost all of your time with him don't you? You can't get much out before he just huffs and stomps away, rolls his eyes (well, you assume he rolls both of them, you can't tell but-- nevermind, not the point) and gives you a cold shoulder. Until you apologize, then it's like the switch has flipped back on, there's love and smiles and warmth and hugs again.

It starts to get on your nerves. You start to wonder if maybe this isn't healthy for you, if maybe you should end things, but you decide to give him another chance, right? We all make mistakes. He's under a lot of stress. Just... It'll be fine.

And the first time it gets physical he swears it's an accident. It leaves an ugly scar. You're going out because come on, it's my family, I haven't seen them in forever.

It just happens, he explains, it's unintentional, emotions get channeled through the vision like that. Comforts you as you sit on the ground crying and clutching your arm that he grabbed as you walked out the door, skin darkened and purplish from the freeze that's seared through a layer of your skin. He sighs and says he's sorry, really, he feels horrible already, so don't get mad, ok? He already feels terrible enough... Don't be mean. He didn't mean it. Don't be mean. Don't be fucking mean about it, stop fucking crying. You're making him feel worse.

He seems genuinely sorry, you tell yourself. It's not his fault. You can't blame him. It's ok.

It's harder to excuse the next time it gets physical. Maybe freezing last time was unintentional, and maybe it hurt, but you weren't terrified like this. A hand around your throat is different.

But can you blame him? You were threatening to leave. Honestly, you weren't approaching it healthily, you weren't trying to actually have a serious talk, you were trying to guilt him and gaslight him and it's honestly emotionally abusive, you know? You're the one in the wrong here. How selfish and cruel. How can you do that and not even feel guilty?

It makes you rethink. It makes you question your own sanity. And it makes you apologize. Makes you say you didn't mean it. You find yourself feeling dizzy, disoriented, like everything isn't real and everything is too much. You try to sleep it off.

And he doesn't like delving into the past. He tries to avoid it. Tries to not think about it. Doesn't even really tell you anything until nearly a year in, a drunken confession of sadness and misery. It makes you feel guilty somehow. Poor thing. He's been through a lot, you tell yourself. Maybe you should be more patient and understanding, help him work through it. You can fix him, per se, can't you? Sure, people say that never works, but... He just needs love, really, it's not like he's that bad.

He hates bringing it up like this even more. It just feels weak and vulnerable but it comes out anyway. You're threatening him again, and honestly, that's a sickening thing to do considering what you know, how can you be so vicious?

You're just like everyone else, aren't you?

You're just going to abandon him like this was nothing. You don't care at all. You're heartless. Ungrateful. He's done so much for you. And this is how you repay him, huh? Disappointing, honestly. He thought you were special. Kind. Understanding. Didn't realize you were just as cruel as everyone else in his life, aren't you?

He just has this way of making you doubt yourself. You pull at your hair and cry. I'm going insane. You keep the thought to yourself, but you fall to your knees and promise you're really sorry this time. He sighs. Fine, he'll give you another chance. He's a patient man. You just need to work on yourself, become a less toxic person.

But apparently that's not enough, and eventually you get dumped.

It comes as a surprise. But he says he's had enough of you being so emotionally manipulative and neglectful. You hardly ever spend time with him (like, only 29 days a month? Unbelievable!). You cry and try to make him feel bad, when the things he does aren't that bad. You always claim to be too tired to fuck. You try to gaslight him into thinking all that's acceptable. It's toxic and abusive, so, he's done.

You find yourself in shock. Confusion. It feels unreal. The first thing you worry about is if you can even find a new boyfriend... Your body is completely littered in freeze-burn scars by now, after all.

Were you really in the wrong? You're not too experienced in relationships, maybe he's right about everything he said... Maybe you really did him wrong...

Which is why you come crawling back. Crying. Apologizing.

Exactly as planned.

So he sighs and agrees. Fine. You can have another chance.

The second time, the third time, he always forgives you and takes you back. Even though you don't deserve it. He just loves you so much, you know? He keeps forgiving you.

Until one day you don't show up.

When you leave that time, you seem almost angry. You don't cry this time. Your hands ball into fists and for once, for the first time, as you storm out, you say--

Fine.

Unusual, but you were always moody like that. Odd choice of words. No matter, it's not like you're actually fine with it, you'll come crawling back any minute now.

It's already been several hours. Why aren't you at his doorstep already? Did he make you feel that bad? Maybe he went too far... You're probably just at home crying or something. You'll come back by tomorrow morning.

You don't.

Ok. Maybe you feel too guilty. Maybe you're reflecting on how awful you've been. That would take some time to get over, since you've done so many bad things. It won't be long before you come back.

A day passes. Two days pass.

What's taking you so long?

He finally swallows his pride. Maybe you're being stubborn. Trying to make him feel bad. Yeah, that's something you'd do. Or maybe you're trying to make him feel all alone, take advantage of the one thing you know bothers him. How mean. But he loves you. You know that. So you'll appreciate it when he checks on you, apologizes for maybe going too far, and he really loves you, he loves you so much, so how about you two just go home and forget this ever happened and have lots and lots of makeup sex and cuddle? And then you can tell him you're sorry and love him too and promise to stay forever? He's already got the speech practiced a few times in his head walking over to your place, the one you haven't really lived in for a while now since he demanded you basically move in with him. All your clothes and stuff are at his place now. You would have taken that with you if you ever actually intended to leave, so clearly this is a ploy to get him to come to you, as if that wasn't already obvious.

Your eyes narrow when you open the door and your face contorts with anger. And you snarl that you've had enough. He wants you gone so much, fine, you're more than happy to oblige, you say. You're done. You don't even need your shit, keep it, you'd rather lose your stuff than set foot in that place again. You finally came to your senses and you're fucking done.

You say nasty things. You say he made your life a living hell and you're happy to be rid of him.

And then you say something worse. Something that sets something deep inside off. Something that feels like a stab to the gut.

You say if you'd known the truth about him you would have kicked him out a long time ago.

Maybe it's not about the same thing. Not meant the same way. But it feels too familiar nonetheless.

You see him freeze up. He just stands still for a moment. Not saying anything. Face blank and empty. His eye twitches.

You couldn't care less. Besides, you already have a new boyfriend, one that's nice to you, you tell him with a prideful spite in your voice. One that doesn't have fucking issues. You're not a therapist, you say, and you tell him to figure out his problems on his own, and you slam the door in his face.

Or, you try to. He catches the door before it can close with one hand. Grabs your arm with the other.

For once he doesn't say anything, not until you make him. Just grabs you, drags you down the street by your shirt. It nearly chokes you, but you manage to start to scream. He slams your back into the nearest building, grabs your shoulders and says to shut the fuck up or I'll break your fucking arms. You go wide eyed and scared tears run down you're face. You're scaring me, you plead. Let me go.

But he doesn't. You figure maybe you can talk sense into him when you get there. You don't realize how far gone he is, you don't think that this might be the last time you set foot outside, the last time you see the sun not through a window. You don't think any of the things you'll wish you had down the road.

You've had rough sex before. Not quite like this, though. You can't breathe. You kick and wheeze and cry and claw at the hand around your throat and desperately gasp for what little air you can get in. He only lets go when you black out, lets you take a few breaths, then does it again. You're still so tight. New boyfriend must not have measured up, huh. It's raw and dry and it hurts. You whimper and you cry and you finally apologize like you should have days ago.

And yet, most importantly, you cum. See? You love him. So say it. Say it already. Come on. You do, you stutter, it's quiet and scared, but he smiles nonetheless.

It's ok. He knows you're sorry. He knows you didn't mean those awful things you said. You would never actually abandon him. You're different. Different. Special. Not like everyone else. You won't leave. You won't just leave him somewhere and disappear, you won't die out of nowhere, you won't kick him aside and leave him alone, you're the only person who won't. Different. That's why he loves you so much. You would never do any of that.

You just need help. You're so emotional, you're really not emotionally stable. Controlled by your wildly changing emotions. They make you say things you don't mean. Do things you don't really intend to do. Things you'll just regret if he didn't intervene and help you.

They make you vulnerable to other people. You're so easily controlled. You believe what they want you to believe. And that's dangerous. That could lead you to try to leave again. That's why you have to be helped. Kept away from becoming victim to your own impulses. The only way to do that is keeping you locked away. You'll come to understand with time. Appreciate it. Thank him.

You'll appreciate it because you're different. You'll never leave. You would never leave him even if you had the opportunity.

But maybe it's for the best that you don't have that opportunity to begin with.

[inkykeiji]

you be the match, i will be your fuse

fluffy anon said: dabi coming home after an absolutely horrid day at work and just needing to be absolutely BABIED by reader (i’m talking cuddling in bed, taking a bath with him and washing his hair then getting out just rubbing his back as he sleeps with his head on your chest)

genre: angst + fluff, laced with just a hint of smut (like two sentences)

notes: aaaah happy birthday dabi!!! this has absolutely nothing to do with your birthday but eeee ily | title cred: sure thing by miguel

warnings: 18+, implied/mentioned death of a child, one instance of implied past physical abuse, self-destructive behaviour + coping mechanisms, co-dependent toxic relationship

words: 3.5k

It’s thundering the day it happens, ferocious growls that rumble through your apartment—a tiny, quaint space you share with Dabi, full of faulty appliances and cracked linoleum—rolling, fluffy grey clouds blanketing the entire sky, swollen with restrained rain droplets as a storm brews within them. Little fingers idly toy with the yellowed pages of your worn pulp fiction novel, flipping through them and bending corners as your eyes search the angry sky, chewing on your cheek.

Dabi should’ve been home by now. It’s not like him to be late without calling, without letting his babygirl know what’s going on—he knows the way you worry, the way you overthink yourself into a frenzy, the way you’re so clingy and needy, teases you about it incessantly and tells you he thinks it’s cute—and a deep sense of dread takes root in the pit of your stomach, dark and bitter and unfurling, quickly spreading throughout the cavity of your chest.

His phone must be off—no, it’s never off, he doesn’t do that anymore, not since you stumbled into his life—his phone must be dead, your repeated calls growing increasingly frequent and urgent every time you’re greeted with the drone of his automatic voicemail.

Something’s wrong, horribly so.

It’s evident the moment he arrives home, scratched brass doorknob slamming against the wall, deepening the crater its left from past incidents of a similar manner.

It infects the air around him, hanging heavy and thick, its dense presence nearly suffocating. His shoulders slump under the pressure, the weight of whatever he’s carrying practically crushing, as he drags his crimson splattered boots through the front door, soles scraping against the cheap hardwood, bringing the putrid scent of charred flesh with him—his or someone else’s, you don’t know.

You swear you can almost see it, this—this thing, this aura, enveloping him in its haughty embrace as his chest heaves under a deep, controlled breath, pausing in the foyer as the door shuts behind him.

Bare feet pad against the floor, your legs moving without your explicit permission, drawn towards him in an almost instinctual manner, the desire to care for, to comfort, burning as it bubbles up in your chest, mixing with that intense sense of trepidation and invading your veins.

He permits you to wrap your arms around his torso as you nuzzle against him, body going rigid for a moment, still and stiff as marble, before he exhales again, melting into your embrace.

Several questions race through your mind at such a speed that they crash and clash together, becoming nothing more than incoherent jumbled lettering, tiny fingers curling in the fabric of his clothing as you try to pull him closer, nonsensical babbling spilling from your lips. A vacant ghost of a chuckle leaves his lips, nothing more than a simple huff of breath, and he squeezes you closer.

“Bad day?” the words are mumbled against his dirty t-shirt, what was once a pristine white now tarnished with ash and blood. You don’t get a response—you don’t expect one.

He doesn’t talk much, not on days like this.

He doesn’t need to.

Bad days—really bad, terrible, awful days such as this one—are surprisingly rare with Dabi. Sure, he’s had the typical ‘bad’ day before, where someone pisses him off, or he gets into a fight with his superior, but those bad days usually require railing you into your creaky, springy king-sized mattress until you’ve forgotten everything but his name and he’s fucked all of the anger and hatred out of his body.

They are not like this one. No, on days such as this, on days where he’s killed someone he deems to be innocent, someone who—like him—is a victim of heroism, he’s quiet, distant, unpredictable, bordering on unhinged, and you’ve learned to tread with extreme discretion.

But you don’t push, either, resolving to communicate through gentle touches, soft fingertips that run along his tense, broad shoulders and press into the hard coiled muscles, tender fingers that thread through inky tufts of hair, sapphire eyes closing as he hums and leans into the motion like a cat.

It’s only for a second, though, just a moment of weakness before he’s breaking out of your embrace, pushing past you and clearing his throat, glass door to the balcony sliding shut a moment later. 

You don’t follow. You know better than that now, a phantom sting in your cheek serving as a reminder, the resounding sharp sound of glass shattering as it’s hurled at the floor slicing through your mind with such viciousness it makes you wince. 

Instead, you sit. And you wait. Like you’re supposed to, like a good little girl, a book clutched between your quivering hands, unblinking eyes staring at the words on the page, nothing but incomprehensible symbols—lines and lines of black ink in meaningless shapes—as scorching sapphire loops through your mind.

Be a good girl, give him space, let him come to you. Be a good girl, give him space, let him come to you. Be a good girl. Give him space. Let him come to you.

It’s standard procedure, really.

And eventually, he does, comes back inside with an empty bottle of whiskey clutched in a hand, along with a crumpled package of cigarettes. You don’t know how long it’s been, muscles sore and joints aching from sitting in the same position for so long, eyes dry from staring at the same page, barely moving, barely breathing. His hand is bleeding, knuckles bruised and gleaming with sticky scarlet that’s still fresh and flowing, but it could be worse. It has been worse.

The harsh clink of the bottle against the kitchen counter makes you flinch, and he sighs, heavy and full of derision, eyes flicking up to glare at your side profile.

“I can hear you thinking,”

“You’re filthy, baby,” the words tumble past your lips, uncontrollable, involuntary, almost reflexive in your response, eyes snapping to his face and voice whiny, voice pleading. “Take a bath with me,”

And you can see it—can see it in the dark cobalt of his irises, what he needs, the very thing he’s fighting himself on, the very thing he’s fighting so hard against. Always so stubborn, so reluctant, so cautious.

Because, fuck, he used to be able to resist it, this pathetic ache for comfort—something that’s only managed to grow in your presence, that’s shifted and morphed from a dull smoldering to a raging fire, an insatiable longing for your fingers in his hair and your breath on his skin and your voice against his ear—a skill he’d been constructing, developing, perfecting, since he was thirteen years old. A skill you succeeded in shattering in the matter of a few measly months.

Because you—you’re different. And he hates it sometimes, he swears to the good Lord he does, but hating it doesn’t make it any less true. You break him down, you make him weak, you make him want, and the longer he spends around you, the more he finds that he doesn’t fucking care. And that’s irritating, that’s exciting, that’s terrifying, that’s new. 

Fury blisters his chest, his lungs, his throat as he holds your stare, jaw clenching twice. But you don’t falter, not like the rest of them, not like anyone else—everyone else. You never falter, always so eager to see the good in him, a snort leaving his nose at the thought. The good in him. Is there any good left in him? Was there ever any good in him in the first place? Are you the good in him, now? Does he care?

And he’s not sure he’ll ever understand it, but he’s beginning to realize that, maybe, he doesn’t have to. 

Maybe, it doesn’t matter. Maybe, it’s okay, if you love him, if he loves you.

Maybe.

It’s too much, and he can feel frustration stinging his eyes, long delicate eyelashes fluttering as he quickly blinks it away. Spears, sharp and cold, splinter your chest at the sight, but you know if you begin crying too, you’ll lose him. You know that if you begin showing what he considers weakness, he’ll pull away, even though this is what he so clearly needs most. 

So you steel yourself, swallowing hard against the pain collecting in your throat, will the tears away and force your body to stay calm, approaching him slowly as if he’s some sort of feral animal prone to lashing out. 

Apprehension is clear in his azure eyes, head tilting a little as they narrow, regarding you with skepticism, with suspicion. 

It’s bold, and dangerous, and—as far as Dabi’s concerned—fucking stupid, but you don’t care, determined to prove to him that you aren’t going anywhere regardless of how many tantrums he throws, no matter how many times he hurts you in his anguish. It’s almost desperate, really, this sheer need to prove to him that you aren’t scared of him, that irrespective of how soft he seems to think you are, you are strong, even if it’s in ways he could never understand, that you can be strong for him, when he needs it, that he can borrow some of your strength, if he needs to.

And that—that’s why he loves you. It hits him hard, as this realization always does, kicks him in the chest and knocks the breath out of him every time, and he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it.

A tiny hand hangs in the air between the two of you, Dabi regarding the offer with a wary hesitance. Wiggling fingers attempt to entice him, earning a tiny smirk—a massive victory—as sapphire flits up to gaze at you through thick lashes, an eyebrow raised.

You match his expression, quirking an eyebrow of your own and nodding at your hand, speaking a moment later.

“Let me in, baby,” the words are barely above a whisper, but they’re so raw, filled with so much unadulterated love it hurts, pure and real and everything he’s never had before. “Let me help,”

And, God, it’s fucking overwhelming, how badly he wishes to give in to this unfamiliar compassion, how desperately he desires your affection, despite the malicious voice echoing off the walls of his skull, berating him for being so pathetic, so weak, so vulnerable.

But the urge to accept, to seek out consolation in you, wins, just as it always does, that nasty voice reverberating in his mind silenced the very instant his skin touches yours.

You let him make the last move, allow him to make that final decision entirely on his own accord, to grasp your hand in his, warm and rough, and pull you towards him, crushing you against his chest as he buries his face in your hair, eyes squeezed shut against that annoying burn of tears, chest stuttered with a hitched breath, air that gets caught in his throat as he chokes on the words he wants to say.

But he doesn’t need to say them. You already know.

“Come,” you murmur to him, fingers threading through the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck. “Let’s take a bath,”

     ✰          ✰          ✰

The bathwater stings your skin, just a hint too hot to be comfortable, but you say nothing as you settle onto his lap in the cramped little tub, encompassed by frothy bubbles, dainty scent of orange citrus tickling your nose.

Heated fingertips press into your hips as he finds comfort the only way he knows how to, in your precious little whimpers and broken moans of his name as he bounces you on his cock, so vigorously you’re positive you can feel him in your tummy, the pads of his fingers searing his prints into your skin.

It’s heady, it’s intoxicating, it’s addicting, heightened emotions both pleasant and unpleasant swirling together with the symphony of your cries and his grunts as the water you’re submerged in begins to bubble and boil, to crack and pop, sudsy liquid sloshing over the side of the tiny tub as he forces you to ride him, faster and faster and faster until you’re whining and convulsing around him, and he’s filling you with thick cum, cock throbbing aggressively as he spurts load after load into you.

After, as he leans back against the cold tile, residual droplets sizzling into steam as his heated skin touches them. Gentle fingers card between his hair, water cascading through onyx strands as it pours over his head from a worn plastic cup—a faded Darth Vader staring back at you as you rhythmically repeat your actions until the tresses stick to his forehead and cheeks, drenched and shining in the low light of the washroom.

Heavy lids obscure the most brilliant sapphire from you as shampoo is massaged into his scalp, slow and unhurried and thorough, every stroke, every comb through inky clumps easing the turmoil in his mind bit by bit, calming the storm that’s been raging inside of him for hours now. Deep hums rumble in his chest as your fingers continue their ministrations, your eyes trained on your motions. And you can feel it, the tension dissipating from his body with each circle of foam rubbed into his soft hair, shoulders finally beginning to relax as he subconsciously nuzzles into your touch, following it, longing for it, aching for more.

He shifts then, after you’ve rinsed the soap from his hair, manhandling you into a position between his thighs, bare chest pressed tightly against your back. You work hard to keep your body from tensing, forcing your breathing to stay even, to stay calm as you brace yourself for what’s coming next.

“He was eleven,” he says after several long moments of silence, voice low and trembling, hoarse and heavy with remorse. “This time.”

This time. That’s the third innocent civilian—innocent by his standards, at least—this month.

That’s the first time it’s ever been a child.

You don’t turn around to look at him, not yet—he isn’t finished—simply opting to lace your fingers through his and bring your joined hands to your lips, kissing each wounded knuckle, crude staples catching in the dim warm light of the tiny bathroom. 

You want to tell him it wasn’t his fault, even though it was. You want to tell him anything that’ll make him feel better, that’ll absolve the guilt so evidently gnawing away at his insides, even though you know there’s nothing you can say.

“What are—I don’t even—” his voice breaks and you feel his chest stutter against your back, feel him exhale harshly, breath cool on your damp shoulder, feel him swallow thickly as he tries again. Because as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, as much as he would never admit it, you know he needs release this from the confines of his mind—you know you’re the only person who can offer him such an outlet. “Why the fuck were there kids there in the first place? Huh? They shouldn’t—They shouldn’t have been there,”

Orphans are everywhere in this city, you murmur, lips moving against his rough skin. He knows. Orphans of heroes. He knows.

“I’m gonna kill Shigaraki, I swear to Christ. Sending us to a—a fucking place infested with fucking ch-children,” his fingers curl around yours, hand beginning to shake as it clutches you like a lifeline, like that guilt will devour him from the inside out, like he’ll disintegrate into nothingness, if he doesn’t. “I bet you he fucking knew—nah, I-I’m positive he did. Asshole only cares about himself, though. Doesn’t matter that—that the cause we’re supposed to be fighting for affects these stupid kids,”

You’re right, love.

The words leave your lips in a gentle breath, leaning your head back against his collarbone and staring up at him. Cobalt eyes stay trained on the cracked tile wall, jaw methodically clenching as his molars grind together, an attempt to quell the trembling of his chin, exhaling hard harsh breaths through flared nostrils.

“Whatever,” he huffs, voice still wavering and not nearly as self-assured as he wishes. “Th-That brat shouldn’t have been there in the first place,”

He shouldn’t have, you agree, finally squirming in his grasp, turning to face him, to straddle his hips again in the tight space of the tub. And he welcomes your affections readily this time, arms encircling your waist as he holds you tightly to him, blunt nails digging purple-tinged crescents into your flesh as he shoves his face against your neck, finally allowing those emotions he’s been fighting to leak from his eyes and absorb into your skin.

Little palms rub soothing circles into his back as he shudders against you, allowing him to empty his soul onto you as soft lips press chaste kisses to his damp hair, waiting until there’s nothing left, until his eyes are drained, azure glassy and bloodshot, nose twitching and red.

And after he’s done, when he finally pulls back, scrubbing aggressively at his nose as tiny sniffles hitch in his chest, gentle fingers begin to lather soap into his skin, washing away the dirt and grime and blood from the day. Fingertips carefully trace along the metal sutures decorating his body with immeasurable adoration, you whispering all of the things he so desperately needs to hear that he’d never dare to ask for, complimented by the tender touches that cleanse his soul with their unconditional love.

He’s bigger than you are, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to wrap him in a fluffy white towel, using another in an attempt to dry his hair as your hands move in shaggy motions, heart soaring in your chest when you pull a soft laugh from his lips, wet and wobbly and croaky, but a laugh nonetheless.

A mutual silence, gentle and comforting and stuffed full of an immense love, a special kind of love, a love words do not exist to explain, swathes your bodies as he allows you to dress him, pulling a ratty old band tee over his head and a pair of plaid PJ pants up his legs.

“You always look so cute in my clothes,” he rasps from his spot perched on the edge of the bed, glowing crystal eyes watching as you pull one of his t-shirts over your naked body.

A genuine bubble of laughter erupts from your throat as you climb into bed with him, immediately allowing him to latch onto you, to pull you towards him, to hold you close like his own personal plushie.

“Sleep,” you murmur as the two of you settle into a comfortable position, limbs tangled together, his head resting on your chest, fingers threading through his hair and then tracing down his neck, his back. “And then I’ll make you ramen,”

“The spicy kind?”

“Of course,”

I love you.

“Extra spicy?”

Laughing again, you feel his lips curve into a smile against your skin, grip around your torso tightening. “Extra spicy. Now, rest,”

More than anything else.

“With the little fish cakes?”

“Your favourite little fish cakes,”

More than words could ever tell you.

“And the pork belly?”

“And the pork belly,” you feel his chest rise with an inhale, hastily adding, “And those little cream puffs you love so much, from that dingy convenience store downstairs, for dessert. Now sleep, baby,”

He laughs, even though his vision is blurring, even though it comes out more strangled than anything else, because he doesn’t want to cry again, because his chest stings and aches and swells and warms, full of inexplicable emotions, feels like it’s going to fucking burst as it chokes and reinvigorates him all at once, and—God, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

Because even though he’s terrified beyond belief, he’s willing to try—just for you, only for you—as he continually realizes with each passing day that he isn’t sure what the fuck he’d do without you, now. Because you’re too entangled up in his life, too deeply embedded in his very soul, for him to ever remove you, now. Because as petrifying and unfamiliar as it is, he doesn’t want to, now.

Because even though he’s broken, irrevocably so, and you can’t fix him, won’t fix him, you’ll still stay, to hold those pieces so gently, so tenderly in your hands, you’ll still protect those fragments and keep them from shattering further, you’ll still give them the affection and devotion they need, the affection and devotion they deserve. Because you love every part of him, even the bad ones, even the shards with jagged edges that cut into the soft flesh of your palms every time you caress them.

Because you accept him wholeheartedly, flaws and all, and that’s—he’s never experienced anything like that before, this unlimited, unreserved, unquestioning love. And although he doesn’t know how to say this, isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to find the right words to communicate it, he’s beginning to learn that unfamiliar doesn’t always mean bad; that sometimes, it’s okay—it’s good—to be vulnerable. He’s beginning to learn that with you, in the warmth of your shitty little apartment, with the stove that only has two functioning burners and the fridge that’s perpetually too cold, he can be, without judgement, without fear, without trepidation.

Because you are his only salvation, and he wouldn’t trade this for the goddamn world.

[sweetbitterimpossiblecreature]

A Brief And Concise Summary Of Is Wrong With The ACOTAR Series

I think we can agree that a lot of ACOTAR is pretty iffy. Consider this a very brief refresher.

What's Wrong With Feyre/Rhysand (juxtaposed against Feyre/Tamlin)

Rhysand drugs and sexually assaults her in Book 1

This is "for her own good". Because he "has no choice". Despite the fact that, from what we know of the plot, Amarantha thinks that Clare Beddor was the one Rhysand was diddling, and is only interested in Feyre because Rhysand, "her" man male, has taken an interest in her.

If we extrapolate from this we can figure that Rhysand is the one directly putting her into danger.

Now, let's be clear: drugging someone is bad. Sexually assaulting someone is bad. One could argue there were extenuating circumstances. But if, in such a situation, what your mind goes to is "I know, I should assault this person... for their safety" I have questions about your moral qualities. There were a million things he could have done. He could have done whatever he did to Clare - that is, remove her ability to feel any pain - easily. He could have helped her escape. Under The Mountain, he - while still there unwillingly - has a lot of power, as Amarantha's side piece. Maybe this would have resulted in him being punished- however, he is hundreds of years old and a badass motherfucker, and she is a nineteen year old human girl.

Now, onto Tamlin. Obviously not a lot of people really ship F/T anymore after ACOMAF, because compared to F/R, it's boring. I read another person's post about it, which was very enlightening: they said that Feyre's personality is essentially a mirror. When she is with Rhysand, she's snarky and malicious- because she is "bouncing off" his energy. When she's with Mor she's super feminist and "in awe of her strength". On the other hand, Tamlin is kind of an empty character. He's a pretty boy with anger issues, which should be more interesting than it is. SJM manages to make him bland. Because Feyre has nothing to bounce off of, (a lot of this is from the person's post), she and Tamlin together is mainly just him introducing her to his world.

What Tamlin Does: prevents a skinny twenty year old from going on dangerous missions with him and combat-trained soldiers, accidentally blows up a room with her in it, and, at the end, prevents her from leaving the house.

This is not a Tamlin apologist post. Obviously it was really fucking gross of him to do that, and their relationship was toxic. However, a lot of his abuse stems from their inability to communicate, as well as own negligence. He does not knowingly and purposefully sexually assault her or rape her mind. And tbh, leaving a girl without combat training at home while he goes on missions with a bunch of muscled sentries is... kind of reasonable?

Again: not a Tamlin apologist post. It was abuse. However, if Rhysand is "allowed" to sexually assault, mind-rape, and drug Feyre "for her own safety", why is Tamlin demonized for preventing her from leaving his mansion "for her own safety"?

Another pertinent point: Rhys is never punished for sexually assaulting her. It is brushed off as part of his "mask" or that his hand was forced. Jesus Christ my dudes, his hand was not forced under her skirt. If he has to maintain his gross rapist abuser tyrant oppressor mask... why? Who did that benefit beside him? None of his actions remotely helped Prythian. They were done solely for his buddies - five people safe in a rich hidden city - and no one else, which is explicitly stated.

Finally, the power dynamic is fucked up. Feyre is less than twenty five years old. Rhysand is 500. There is a tendency in fantasy romance to romanticize a centuries year old man with a young girl, because the man does not show symptoms of age, and so it is easily ignorable. However, can we just briefly acknowledge how fucked up it is? Rhys is over five times older than Donald Trump, Harvey Weinstein, Jeffrey Epstein, and other known predators/abusers. She is twenty. That is really fucking gross. She is in a vulnerable position and he takes rampant advantage of that.

If he had wrinkles, liver problems, and erectile dysfunction, more people would acknowledge it.

Let's be clear: I'm not saying writing a book with an uneven power dynamic is automatically bad. For example, in The Locked Tomb series, which is in my opinion THE BEST FANTASY SERIES THAT HAS GRACED THIS EARTH (lol i'm starting fires), one main character Harrowhark Nonagesimus is in a position of power over Gideon Nav, the other main character. However, this is not glossed over or romanticized. Gideon resents Harrow for this- there is a relationship of mutual antagonism, fraught with unwilling familiarity and intimacy from growing up together. They are roughly the same age. While there is a certain power dynamic (in that world, there is a dynamic of necromancer and cavalier, i.e. sorcerer and sword) the "empowered" character (Harrow) emphatically respects her and does not abuse this power, although both would of course deny this, and she does make a show of threatening and being aloof. In short, while Gideon obeys her, Gideon also has power over Harrow, and the idea of what is essentially slavery is not romanticized.

Feyre Doesn't Face Any Consequences For Her Own Actions

Let me present a radical notion: a guy preventing you from leaving his house does not justify completely fucking ruining his country and harming the people inside it.

In other words: Tamlin does not deserve what she did to him.

I know that sounds iffy. We're conditioned to think that if someone is an abuser, then they are the scum of the earth, they deserve to die, torturing/murdering/doing anything to them is completely A-OK. However, here's another radical notion: someone harming you does not justify you doing worse.

Obviously, the effects of psychological abuse can cause you to hurt other people (see: Nesta), but Feyre deliberately and maliciously (oh, God, that insufferable POV of her in Spring Court; she reads like a cartoonish Disney villain) dismantles his country. She uses sexual manipulation (Lucien), torture (causing the sentry to be whipped), and mind-rape (who didn't she do this to? lol).

A summary of the entire first half of ACOWAR: "It smelled like roses. I hated roses. For this capital offense against my olfactory system, Tamlin and the entire Spring Court deserved to burn in hell. I knew exactly what I was doing. I smiled at him sweetly: no longer a doe, but a wolf. He didn't see my fangs.............." *aesthetic noises*

Man. I'm starting to think SJM had a horrible experience at a Bath & Body Works and took it out on the rest of us. Don't do it, Sarah!! I know Pink Chiffon and Triple Berry Martini are way too strong, but don't take it out on an innocent population!!

She steals from Summer Court (there are, yk, other solutions to theft. Like maybe asking politely) and ruins Spring Court. Her boyfriend - yeesh sorry, MATE - does nothing while a dozen Winter Court children are murdered.

Now: moral ambiguity is not automatically bad. Again using The Locked Tomb as an example, in the second book (spoiler alert), Harrowhark has a sort of moral ambiguity. She was raised from the beginning to worship the King Undying as God, and so she obeys him without question. Because of this, she commits a lot of crimes in His name: she "flips" - i.e. kills - the life force of planets, and she plots murder (albeit the murder of someone who tried to kill her first). There is no attempt to justify this. There is also no attempt to paint her as a virtuous and yet also badass Madonna figure. She is desperate, plagued with the "wreck of herself", and the book clearly displays her moral pitfalls. While her POV is of course colored by her mindset, it also is limited by her lack of information, and we as readers can acknowledge that.

BACK TO ACOTAR: Feyre is seen by everyone as gorgeous, formidable, and essentially perfect. Rhys sees her as flawless, "made for him", wonderful, beautiful, blah blah blah. (THEY ARE SO BAD FOR EACH OTHER; THEY EXCUSE AND GLORIFY EACH OTHER'S CRIMES, IT'S SO BAD, GUYYYS). Tamlin is insanely batshit in love with her, or whatever. To the Night Court she's the High Lady. In this way she personifies the Mary Sue character. (Excerpt from the TV Tropes page on Mary Sues: "She's exotically beautiful, often having an unusual hair or eye color, and has a similarly cool and exotic name. She's exceptionally talented in an implausibly wide variety of areas, and may possess skills that are rare or nonexistent in the canon setting. She also lacks any realistic, or at least story-relevant, character flaws — either that or her "flaws" are obviously meant to be endearing. She has an unusual and dramatic Back Story. The canon protagonists are all overwhelmed with admiration for her beauty, wit, courage and other virtues, and are quick to adopt her as one of their True Companions, even characters who are usually antisocial and untrusting; if any character doesn't love her, that character gets an extremely unsympathetic portrayal." Sound familiar?)

There is the Ourobous scene. And yet, paradoxically, while presented as an acknowledgment of her flaws, it is in fact a rejection of them. She sees her own brutality... and instead of recognizing that she has these deep, deep moral flaws and realizing that she needs to grow and be better, she in fact "accepts" them.

Guys: Self love means: "I'm important to me, so I'm going to get a massage today after work", or "heck, why not splurge on some expensive lotion, you only live once" or "you know what? I had a tough day today. I'm going to get that strawberry cupcake". SELF LOVE DOES NOT MEAN "oh, I accept all the war crimes I have done, I love myself". LOVING YOURSELF DOES NOT MEAN ABSOLVING YOURSELF OF ALL WRONGDOING.

It's this refusal to acknowledge wrongdoing that is so grating about ACOTAR. It's so goddamn one-sided. And you can tell that after Book 1, SJM decided to completely change the trajectory simply because of how jarring Book 2 reads compared to the first one.

Also: Feyre is a very, very young girl (compared to the other ruling fey) who did not know how to read for the majority of her life. She has no experience whatsoever in politics. Her being High Lady is not a win for feminism.

Rhysand: He Sucks

First, he is 500 years old. He should be written as such, not as some 20 year old virile frat boy feminist. Fantasy is all the more compelling for its elements of realism, which is a concept that SJM does not appear to grasp.

Second of all, his morals are absurd. He is written as the Second Coming of Christ, as someone who can do no wrong, ever, and his flaws only serve to make Feyre love him more. Anything shitty he does is written as part of his "mask" and she can See Beneath It and knows that it "hurts" him to maintain this "mask".

Fellas, WHY DOES HE HAVE TO MAINTAIN THIS MASK???? There is no reason for it. If A) he does not give a shit about Court of Nightmares (we'll get back to that), only about Velaris, and B) Velaris is hidden/protected from the world, what is he pretending for?

It would not hurt him politically to be seen as someone who cares about his country.

"Pretending" to be "Amarantha's whore" does not in any way shape or form benefit the macro-world that is Prythian. In Amarantha's name, he commits atrocities. He commits war crimes; he systemically oppresses entire societies. It doesn't even really benefit Velaris, because Velaris is already hidden.

Let me put this in a real-world perspective. This would be like if Donald Trump was suddenly like: "I know I was a shitty president but IT WAS ALL PART OF MY MASK, WHICH WAS TO PROTECT THIS MICROCOSM OF PRIVILEGED PEOPLE THAT I CARE ABOUT". Like: okay? Sorry, or whatever, but I don't actually give a shit. What about the parents of the children who died? What about Clare Beddor? What about the people who were held in slavery, murdered, tortured?

Rhysand: omg it sucks that my cousin Mor was oppressed by this toxic misogynistic culture from the Court of Nightmares.

Also Rhysand: lol whatever, who gives a shit about Court of Nightmares. They all suck. They meanie. Lol what did you say? That there might be other girls just like Mor who are oppressed by this system? Lol whatever. I can't do anything, I gotta maintain my Mask. I gotta sit on this throne and show the entire Court that not respecting women is completely okay.

In summary: by parading Feyre around as his "whore" (!!) he demonstrates by example that it is completely okay for the Court of Nightmares to abuse their women.

A good ruler cares about all his people. Rhysand cares about a tiny tiny fraction of his people: those who were fortunate enough to be born into Velaris.

God, I'm exhausted. Onto Nesta:

The only character who successfully breaks the Mary Sue effect Feyre exerts on her people is Nesta. Her POV for the first half is a joy to read.

Obviously it sucks that Nesta was a huge bitch to Feyre for the beginning of her childhood. However, it was wrong for Rhysand to threaten her- he is a man male with a huge insane amount of power, and it is not okay for him to threaten to bring the brunt of it down on a young girl because she was a bitch to his girlfriend.

I've seen a lot of discourse on the morality of F/R sending her out of Velaris. Here is my two cents:

It was okay for them to cut her off of their money. If they don't want to enable her self-harm, that is their choice. Again, it's their money, even if it wasn't fairly earned (Rhysand born into an enormous fortune).

It was not okay for them to banish her from Velaris with the implication that she was an embarrassment. Let me explain.

If Rhysand and Feyre are talking to her as sister/brother-in-law, then that is that. They have the complete right to express disapproval and try to help. However, they should not be using their royal privilege against her.

If they are talking to her as ruler to subject, then they have the power to banish her from the city. However, a ruler would not give a shit about a random subject getting drunk and having sex. So, they should not be talking her about her problems as a ruler to subject.

I've heard it compared to her being sent to rehab. However, rehab is a system designed to help people with certain problems. It has specialized medical centers and involves therapy. Nesta gets her life threatened multiple times. It is not rehab.

In summary: why did SJM inflict this upon us. Throne of Glass was actually good! GAHHH! After the first few books she completely whipped around and introduced the idea of males and mates and fey and that C is actually A and the quality took a huge nosedive. Sigh.

Final horrible but unmistakable truth: The entire ACOTAR series reads like a bad A/B/O fic. I hate to say it but it's true. We're lucky there were no heat cycles. OH WAIT

[uwuwriting]

Yandere ex w/ Midoriya and Bakugou

Request: Can I request some headcanons about Deku, Bakugou annnddd whoever else you'd like with reader and they are currently dating

Reaction to reaching you from your crazy ex boyfriend who is...very powerful and has managed to corner you, alone. You're scared, you're a civilian.

" oh shh. Don't cry baby, i'm here. Now that I'm here, you're all mine, now that you're done being silly. You and me forever"

( thought that'd get the creepy factor)

I'm just a sucker for rescue missions. I'm just so interested in how they'd approach that situation, how they'd comfort reader afterwards

Thank you. For reading this if you don't do this

Which is totally fine! - anonymous

Bruh rescue missions are just *chef’s kiss*. I’ve been having a mini Deku and Bakugou infatuation and I just wanna see more fics with these cuties and their civilian s/os. Like legit there aren’t enough fics with quirkless/civilian readers out there and I’m sad. Love ya.💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: stalking, attempted kidnapping, mentions of toxic past relationships, being chased, eventual fluff in the form of comfort, TW BEWARE. 

Midoriya Izuku/ Pro hero! Deku

-Izuku believed you were an angel walking on earth. 

-He met you in the brink of death *literally* when you stitched him up and stabbed an IV into his arm. 

-It was love at first sight for him tbh and he is proud to admit it too. 

-Soon enough -and after many many more visits to the hospital so he can be treated by dr. L/N- he asked you out and now you’re living together. 

-He knows about your ex and he hates him for what he did to you. 

-He has coaxed you into relaxing many nights after you’ve had terrible nightmares about your ex finding you again and this time not only putting your freedom on the line but also Izuku’s safety. 

-You know he is a pro hero and all but you can’t stop seeing him on your apartment floor, unmoving with your ex looming over him. 

-He is always there to chase that horrible darkness away and replace it with the warmth of his love. 

-So as time passed, thoughts of your ex became less and less frequent until they stopped popping up throughout the day all together and you were happy with that. 

-Then the universe decided that it should serve you with a good old traumatizing experience to spice things up. 

-You were walking home after your shift at the hospital was over, exhausted out of your mind when you felt the hairs at the back of your neck rise.

-It was like a sixth sense, knowing that something was up. 

- “Y/n-chan~”

-Your blood ran cold at the familiar voice, your mind going blank as you quickly fished out your phone dialing Izuku’s number while speeding up. 

- “Hey angel w-”

- “Izu he is here. H-he is f-following me.” 

-You heard his feet hitting the pavement on the other line as he ran down the busy street, completely forgetting about the patrol he was on. 

- “Where are you angel?”

-Sharing your location with him you took a sharp turn and into a convenience store, walking to the very back and hiding behind a few shelves, your eyes glazing over as you heard the sliding doors ding as your ex stepped inside not even a minute after you. 

-When did he get so close?

- “Izu please.” 

- “I’m almost there Y/N, I’ll protect you I promise.” 

-You held your breath as footsteps got closer, Izuku’s breathing keeping you grounded as they echoed through the other line. 

-Dipping behind another shelf you zigzagged through the aisles hoping to lose him as you slowly and quietly made your way to the entrance, your plan being to run outside and find Izuku. 

-Your plan though was cute short when an arm wrapped tightly around your waist bringing you flush with a sturdy chest, your ex’s head dipping into your hair and breathing in your scent in an exaggerated sniff. 

- “You like the chase Y/N-chan~? I’ve got you now.” 

-Izuku’s panicked voice could be heard coming from your phone as he listened to your ex talking to you. 

-A whimper of your actual boyfriend’s name left your lips in an attempt to get away from him but his grip on you tightened making a sob escape you as tears cascaded down your cheeks, too many awful memories of your past relationship flooding your mind. 

-You wanted your Izuku. 

- “Aww baby don’t cry. And my name isn’t Izuku so don’t make that silly little mistake again because it doesn’t make me happy when you call out other men’s names. I got you now and everything will be back to normal in no time. Just you and me my sweet Y/N.” 

-You thrashed around, your hands clawing at the arm wrapped around your waist and the other one that was holding your chin. 

-In your panic you didn’t even hear the ding of the store’s doors as your boyfriend stepped in, eyes immediately locking on your crying features and the outer fear in your eyes as you ex tried kissing your neck.  

-It took him mere seconds to untangle you from your ex’s grasp and pull you safely into his chest, a punch flying right into your attackers jaw as he fell to the floor with a loud thud. 

-His hands went immediately to cradle your head near his chest, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you sobs wracked through your body. 

- “Shh angel, it’s me I’m right here shh. He can’t hurt you Y/N.” 

-Police sirens echoed outside as a few officers poured through the double doors, Izuku scooping you up and taking you outside trudging the familiar road to your shared apartment. 

-You wouldn’t let go of his hero costume as he calmly set you on your shared bed, whispering to you that he was only going to the closet to help you both change. 

-It took him a lot of time to actually calm you down and when he managed it he called his agency to inform them that he would be taking the day off. 

-The only thing he could do after that was hold you as close to his chest as he possibly could, reassuring you that he wouldn’t be coming anywhere close to you from now on that he was officially gone. 

Bakugou Katsuki/ Pro Hero! Dynamight

-It was a stupid argument that escalated and now he found himself crashing at Kirishima’s. 

-You two hadn’t talked for about a week now and Bakugou feared that you had had enough of him and you would break up if he called. 

-He felt awful.

-He just wanted to go back home to you, kiss you, hug you, be back in his normal routine with the love of his life but no he had to be stubborn and push you to your limits with a silly argument that he doesn’t even remember what the fuck it was about. 

-It was the third sleepless night for him and he couldn’t stop his brain from drifting to you and what you might be doing. 

-You on the other hand were terrified out of your mind. 

-Not long after Katsuki stormed out of your apartment you had started getting texts from an unknown number saying things like “He is finally gone” and “Now we can be together again dolly.” 

-The nickname had sent shivers down your spine, memories of your toxic/yandere ex flooding your mind. 

-Katsuki had helped you run away from him and heal after those dark days. 

-Walking to the kindergarten you worked at became a constant threat.

-You were always looking behind your shoulder for anyone who might be following you, coming very close to calling Katsuki more than once when you thought that you had caught a whiff of your ex. 

-You began asking your coworkers to walk home with you using the excuse that it felt kinda lonely walking alone.

-Things reached a tipping point when the photos started coming in. 

-Photos of you in your class helping the kids, on your way to the station to catch your train every morning and even from inside your own house. 

-Photos of you putting on one of Katsuki’s hoodies was filled with manic scribbles of the word stop as a big red circle was drawn around your boyfriend’s sweatshirt. 

-It terrified you and you wanted nothing else than to call Katsuki and beg him to come back. 

-But despite it all your worthless pride and ego got in the way convincing you that you would fight your ex with your own two hands. 

-All those thoughts were tossed out the window when you heard your ex’s voice outside your apartment’s door on a late Friday night. 

- “Dolly open the door~” 

-In less than a second you had pushed the kitchen table in front of the door, your fingers hastily dialing Katsuki’s number, tears already streaming down your cheeks as your ex pounded at the front door, his voice and pleas becoming more and more aggressive as the seconds ticked by. 

-Two agonizing minutes passed before Bakugou answered, his gruff voice reaching your ears from the other line as he answered with a short “What”

- “Katsu please h-he is trying to get in. H-he is at the d-door. I-I don’t know what to do.” 

- “Baby lock yourself in our room and try to barricade the door. After that hide I’ll be there before you know it.”

-You could hear a door slamming shut and his hasty steps coming through the other line. 

-Doing as you were told you locked your bedroom door, pushing your dresser in front of it as more bangs came from the front door the legs of the kitchen table scraping the floor as the door almost rattled off its hinges. 

-Ducking underneath your bed you let out a few whines to which Katsuki answered with reassuring words. 

- “I’m almost there baby, I’ll save you. Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby. I should be home with you right now keeping you safe from that lunatic. I’m sorry I love you so much.” 

- “Katsu please hurry please. I-I’m so scared. Please.” 

- “I can see our building don’t worry-” 

-A loud thud came from the kitchen and only a few seconds later something rammed into the bedroom door ripping another whimper from your throat. 

- “Oh my god Katsu he’s in our house!!” 

- “Y/N, dolly, why are you making this so difficult my love? I just want” *thud* “to love you” *thud* “the way you” *thud* “DESERVE!”

-In one finally push your dresser was finally knocked over as the door creaked slightly open, your ex squeezing through the crack a laugh and a breathy moan of your name escaping his lips as he stepped inside.  

- “Katsuki I lo-” 

-The only thing that Katsuki could hear was your scream as he barreled up the stairs to your apartment. 

-He was gonna skin that bastard alive for hurting you and then he would skin himself alive for allowing this to happen. 

-He will never forget the look of pure terror in your eyes as you ex was pining you on the floor, your eyes darting through the room desperately searching for a way to escape this. 

-Katsuki tackled your assailant, straddling his waist as he let punch after punch connect with the bastard's face as you cowered to the far corner of the room. 

-After a few minutes of relentless punching your ex was knocked out cold while Katsuki was cradling you to his chest, rubbing circles onto your scalp as you sobbed in his chest. 

-You don’t remember much of what happened later, too exhausted to process anything and too comfortable in Katsuki’s arms as he led you to Kirishima’s house to spend the night. 

-He refused to take you to a hotel, he thought you would feel safer in a familiar environment. 

-Kiri left you two alone as Katsuki prepared a bath and a change of clothes. 

- “Katsu…” 

-His name left your lips as a mere whisper and it broke his heart. 

- “I can’t go back to our house...He had been in there….he had taken pictures I-I” 

- “Shh it’s alright. It was getting kinda small for us anyways. Shh Don’t worry about it.” 

- “I’m sorry Katsu, I’m so sorry.” 

-It would take a lot of hard work to build up your sense of safety and he knew it but he was ready to give it his all for you. 

- “No need to apologize baby. You know I would do anything for you and your safety and I’ll be here next to you now matter what. I love you and I will never stop. You kinda have my wrapped around your finger, woman.” 

-You let out a weak giggle followed by an “I love you” of your own and a little peck on the lips, as you snuggled close to him, his arms bringing you safely to his chest in a way to calm your nerves. 

-You really did have wrapped around your finger.

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