#this took me a while to write because i needed to make it clear goddamn it 😆

[raisinghellonstarbug]

OK so I just wished to express this because I don't do it very often but feel the need to right now, even though it's actually hard to do so and put into words so I'll do my best, hopefully without sounding too disgustingly fan girly...

Basically Sam Fender is someone who despite being from a whole different part of England to me, is someone who as a person alongside his music, I could not relate to anymore to than I already do.

I have had the privilege of being able to express my adoration a little and was shocked when he responded to me over Instagram last year, but man I don't think he would even know the half of it if I could actually tell him all of it in person.

I just know I would find it difficult, I would stutter because of nerves and he would probably find it too overwhelming and somehow I would probably make him feel uncomfortable because I am good at that, and I think there's a reason I haven't met my absolute favourite actors/musicians for this very reason 🤣🤣 but yeah I would struggle for probably an hour or two before I would eventually calm down and be able to chat to him like an actual fucking normal person!

So instead I am letting it out to this tumblr void and letting it be here for just my thoughts and for anyone who might be slightly interested.

Sam Fender is like a mind reader. Like he really feels like he knows my life for real. I mean similarities are definitely there where my parents struggled financially when I was a child. I had an estranged relationship with my dad for years despite choosing to live with him when I was 10. My mum walked out on us and I was broken for years. I got bullied at school for years as well and although it's called "Dead Boys", I was nearly a Dead Girl that couldn't be explained, except I just wanted to die at 17.

Seventeen Going Under was really the hitting point for me. I really was 17 and going under in life. I was a mess. And then Spit of You made me bawl my eyes out when I first heard it because those lyrics alongside the music video was just pure dynamite for me, like everything that I wish I could express, but he has done it better than me.

I've considered the music route and have been told I am a good singer and a good writer, but damn, did I struggle to keep myself motivated to teach myself guitar. I did ok but then kind of gave up on it because I didn't think I could get very far.. I was watching my dad have mental breakdowns almost everyday which clouded my motivations. I still consider sometimes whether I try and pick it up again and play at an open mic night. One day I might. The closest I have come as of late so far is on karaoke nights working at the pub and only then do I sing my heart out besides at home 😄

His political views are a part of it too. Our political system is fucked and he expresses that brilliantly too with Long Way Off and Aye. I mean Hypersonic Missiles and White Privilege as well but they're more worldwide explanations. The left (Labour) and right (Conservatives) don't appeal to me either way. We need a whole revamp.

Basically this fella from North Shields is like a gift to me and to many others. I just wish he could know this without me sounding like a creepy fucker. He's just awesome in general really and I guarantee that if I wasn’t so awkward with celebrities and could actually keep my cool when I usually can, I would happily have a good old chinwag with him, just talk about life and have a few bevvies.

I mean hell, the actual dream would be to duet a song with him ❤ he would play guitar and I would sing. It's not expected though and seems like such a long shot to ever actually happen, and while I saw him perform at Ally Pally in London in November 2021, I did not get lucky in catching him after the gig. Maybe one day I will but then he would probably be super famous by then. He definitely deserves all the attention anyway!

So yeah. That was what I was thinking about this morning of all things 😅

I love you Sam Fender, even though you have no idea who I am.

Peace,

Luna x

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was in third grade I got Weird with writing. It makes sense in hindsight. Oppressed people find their own ways of carving out space for themselves.

The first bit I did landed me in trouble more immediately. I was given, god knows by who, one of those enormous giant pencils. I loved it. My tiny nine year old body was consumed with love of this pencil that was roughly 1/3 of my height. I insisted that I would only use this pencil in school.

It was an unlucky year to be stricken with whimsy. My third grade teacher was a tyrannical Japanese woman fueled by her dislike of children. I suspect the cultural divide between how she expected children to behave and the reality of American children broke her.

She was three foot nothing and getting berated by her was the first time I’d ever looked down at an adult. I also saw her once standing next to her white 6’ behemoth of a husband and tried to conceptualize how two such disparate people had sex. I never could.

If you think I’m exaggerating her wrath it’s worth noting that my best friend at the time developed a stress disorder from this woman and I fell into a bizarre stutter that cleared up the moment I was out of class. In her classroom breaking down crying was a weekly occurrence.

But despite the frigid conditions, I persevered. I stayed silly. I brought my enormous novelty pencil to class every day. It was an act of rebellion that I sank my teeth into and refused to let go. I could barely sharpen it because its girth defied standard sharpeners the way I defied my teacher. This was my pencil.

When she attempted to confiscate my giant pencil I rose an unholy ruckus. This would not turn into the confiscated holographic Charizard, my tamagotchi, or my little pop frogs that she never returned to me. No. This was my goddamn pencil. There was no rules against enormous novelty pencils and after a heated week of debate she finally conceded I could use the hated thing.

It was stolen by my kleptomaniac friend a week or so after that a fact I’d only discover at the end of the year. But my tiny mind was convinced the evil teacher had stolen it.

In retaliation, instead of resuming normal behavior I decided that I would do all my writing upside down and backwards. No one, least of all myself, could explain why I felt this was necessary. Maybe I felt I’d be cool like a spy, maybe I just needed to buck the teachers hateful authority, or maybe I was just a little autistic kid.

When taking notes or writing essays I’d arrange the paper to be upside down. It may surprise you to know that my penmanship was actually quite decent, albeit I wrote a little more slowly than my classmates. That’s why it took the teacher a while to realize what was going on. There wasn’t a drop in the quality of my writing.

Unsurprisingly she hated it when she found out. She lambasted me both privately and in front of the class to write normally. I asked if my writing was illegible. She had to admit that no, it was not. I shrugged. I did not see a problem.

Like the pencil my new writing fixation was cited as being a distraction to the other children. But similarly she didn’t have an easy way to make me stop. She marked me down, gave me several talking tos, and generally bullied me into writing like everyone else.

All attempts at correcting me simply ran off my back. I had found a way to cope with how miserable she made all of us, by inflicting misery back upon her. I was unswayed for the rest of the year.

When I graduated up into fourth grade and had a teacher I adored it suddenly stopped. I looked at the paper and thought, Well that’s silly, and flipped it the right way round.

I can still write upside down, though, a testament to my worst year in public school.

[sylustful]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ A Slice of Heaven for the Sinner.

"there is no love purer than mine."

he is heartless, unforgiving, and cold. he takes and takes and takes because it's his given right. you are no exception. when the two of you meet in a nightclub, he watches you with intense interest, his eyes devouring your soul without even touching your skin... but when he does, there's no going back for you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ TAGS: vampire! Sylus, pure but bold reader, corruption, dubcon (reader secretly gets off on being scared and forced), size difference, manhandling, pet names (ie. sweetie, babydoll, princess, slut, whore, kitten, etc.), overstimulation, biting, blood drinking, spanking, praise, degradation, bondage (he binds your hands with his belt), belly bulge, creampie, marking.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ MIKI’S NOTES: Whew! this took forever to write lmao. i know the tags seem intimidating but i promise, you’ll enjoy it! i’ve been reading so many smut x reader fics with this man that i’ve just been dying to write my own, so i hope you enjoy it! if you want more, dm me your requests or follow me for updates on new Sylus fics! enjoy!

here is part one.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ WORD COUNT: 3746

you are fucked. almost quite literally, at this point. with Sylus’s fingers digging into your pussy through your panties to the point where it almost hurts, a voice in the back of your head tells you to yell stop or to slow down or something, but that thought quickly gets overturned with his other hand reaching under your blouse to squeeze your breasts over your bra.

“you say you need me, yet i don’t hear specifics, Kitten,” he teases in an almost sadistic tone, or maybe it’s just what you want to think. the stupid, masochistic part of you wants him to be mean.

you grate against your teeth and throw your head back, trying to clear your mind before looking back at him. “you know what i want from you, Sylus,” you say through gritted teeth.

“you want what every woman wants from a man,” he replies, tearing your panties and stuffing it into his pocket. “i’m just asking you for your full consent.”

fuck him. he doesn’t even know he tore one of the only panties you had, now you have to wait until your next shitty paycheck to buy more. you sigh, lying your head back onto the floor of the trunk and trying to ignore the teasing trails of his fingers around your slit. you try and sit up, but Sylus keeps your back to the floor with his hand on your shoulder, glaring at you.

“you know what? i’ve had enough.”

Sylus then flips you over with ease, yanking a yelp out of you as he rests your stomach on his thighs. you turn back to him with an infuriated expression, trying to wiggle out of his hold before he leaves a god awful hand print on your ass. you yelp again, clenching your fists in pain. you know what he’s going to do, and it fills you with dread. Sylus then massages the cheek, making sure to dig his fingers into the hot and stinging skin before tapping it a few times playfully. he then uses his other hand to grip the back of your now messed up ponytail, pulling you back up to him and straining your spine.

“i’ll give you my fingers because i know goddamn well you want it, but you don’t get to say anything until i’ve had my fill,” he says into your ear with a harsh tone before throwing you back face-first onto the floor of the trunk.

and so, he does what he says. although, there’s a somewhat gentleness in his ministrations, inching one singular finger into your soaked cunt, making sure to watch your expressions for any sign of discomfort. he knows not to actually be rough like his victims, but he also knows you like toeing the line between pain and pleasure. how does Sylus know? well your cute little ass is pushing against his hand, your body begging for him to put more into you. no matter how much you deny him, Sylus knows you. eventually, slowly, he puts more in, now stuffing three fingers into your used and abused pussy like the whore you are, all the while your tear-stained cheeks sob and sob about how you can’t take anymore. your juices soak the floor of his car and down the back of it, dripping onto the concrete below and leaving a puddle. your body shakes and twitches violently as you struggle between crawling away and pushing his fingers deep into you.

“see, that wasn’t so hard, right?” he cooed, turning you back over so your back lies against the floor. he reaches out, wiping a tear from your lid and licking it with his tongue, groaning at the saltiness of your tears. “your debauchery is stunning, Sweetie.”

you weakly reach out to grip his wrist, shaking your head. you don’t know how many times you’ve cum at this point, and it’s actually starting to hurt. “i can’t… please, it- ah!- it hurts,” you cry, bucking your hips into his hand.

Sylus shushes you, pulling you into his lap and holding you still by your waist, this new angle providing him with deeper access into the walls of your pussy, the tips of his fingers pressing against the frontal wall. you clench your thighs around his wrist, shaking your head again and gripping his shirt. “just one more, i promise,” he whispers, kissing your tears away and rubbing your sides under your blouse. “make that gorgeous pussy of your cum for me one more time and i’ll stop.”

his voice is like an echo in your mind, his words muffled in your ears with how muddled your brain is. he said how many more? more? he wants more from you? you whimper, feeing the tips of his fingers brush and push against your front and scissors, stretching you out. eventually, you understand his words and muster a weak nod with the little strength you had and his smiles, kissing your forehead and praising you. he whispers into your ear with gentle promises, telling you how beautiful you are, how strong you are, how your pussy was the best thing he’s ever seen and felt. your body alone was his temple and he was your devout worshiper.

he moves his other hand down your thigh and uses his pointer finger to rub circles on your clit. first clockwise, then counterclockwise, alternating between the two and causing it to swell beneath, a silent encouragement to move faster with more fingers. you buck again, hiccuping as you cry into Sylus’s shoulder. he’s gentle with you, you know that, but this softness is agonizingly slow. he told you he wanted you to cum again but how can you do that when his ministrations are making your head spin with his sudden changes in speed? fast. slow. fast. slow. it’s all the same! you decide that it’s enough for you and you straddle him on shaky knees, causing Sylus to pause his movements and move his fingers away from your clit, gripping your hip. you want to yell at him for losing that stimulation, but you hold your tongue.

“just fuck me already,” you hiss, looking directly into his ruby eyes and pushing your hips down, biting your lip at his fingers pushing deeper inside of you.

Sylus merely chuckles at your demand, his thumb rubbing up and down your stomach. “such crude words, Kitten. who knew you could speak like that?”

you groan in frustration at his teasing, resting your forehead against his. “i know you’re hard, Sylus, so just fuck me and get this over with.”

he frowns at your words, smacking your ass again and you yelp, leaning into his shoulder. “as much as i think your demanding attitude is cute and all, i like to take my time with prey that i catch,” he explains to you, ripping his fingers out of your cunt and smacking it.

you jump, whimpering at the harsh slaps and you wrap your arms around his neck, blubbering out apologies against his skin. Sylus sighs, stroking your back and shushing you once more. it’s fine; it’s not like this will be the last time he ever fucks you again, so he doesn’t have to take that much time. he then pulls you back so you’re facing him again, moving his soaked fingers up to your mouth.

“suck.”

it’s a simple order, yet your mind reels at his authoritative tone and your eyes can’t help but stare at his pruned skin. you drenched him, drowned him in your slick and a sense of pride riled up in you. you keep your eyes on him as you stick your tongue out, swirling it around the digits before fully enveloping your mouth. you’ve never tasted yourself before but it’s kind of metallic, with a hint of sweetness. he grins at your expression, watching you hollow your cheeks to take his fingers deeper. if you can deepthroat his fingers, you can surely take his cock, and Sylus can feel himself straining against the confines of his jeans at the thought.

“surely a dirty slut like you can take it deeper down your throat, right?” he asks, your tummy fluttering at his degradation.

you want to please Sylus. though, when you hear his words, you can’t help but feel there’s a double entendre. you nod your head anyway, giving Sylus permission to shove his fingers past your uvula and down your throat, almost choking. tears prick your eyes again but you keep still, gripping his shirt tightly. it doesn’t last long, and when he takes his fingers back out, you cough hard to the side, trying to regain your breath.

“such a good girl for me, babydoll,” he praises, pulling you back to face him by gripping your jaw and kissing you deeply.

your head spins and your heart beats faster. the mix between degradation and praise has your mind reeling and your pussy clenching around nothing, begging to be filled once more. not by his hands but by something bigger, harder, and hotter. you gasp and pull away from his brutal kisses and push your hand into his pants, eliciting a groan from him and he quickly grips his hand around your wrist. you look down and your pussy clenches again at the difference in size of your hands, how easily your wrist fits in his hold and how probably, he could hold both of your wrists with one hand.

“easy with the paws, Kitten,” he says through a shaky breath, his cheeks flushed as he chuckles. “i’ll give you what you want.”

you frown, pawing at him again, your fingers fiddling with the belt and loosening it. “careful with your words, little bird,” you reply, giving him his own nickname and pulling the belt out of the loops with your free hand. “this kitty’s got claws and she isn’t afraid to bite.”

Sylus stares at you for a few moments, making you immediately regret your words and try to pull away out of embarrassment, but he just laughs. he quickly lets go of your wrist and binds your hands together with his belt, restraining you, before setting you on your feet and turning you over. you squeak at his actions and he moves your hands to grip the railing, effectively bending you over. the wind blows under your skirt, the coldness making you shiver and your pussy clench again. behind you, you can hear Sylus unzip his pants and shrug them down just enough to pull his cock out. curiosity buzzes in your skin and you turn your head just enough to peak over his shoulder and-

what the fuck.

you quickly turn back, your mind racing with thoughts. how can a guy even be that fucking big? is it even normal for guys to grow to that size? how the hell does he walk around with that thing in his pants? no wonder Sylus was fingering you so much - even with your own natural lubrication, there’s no way you can take him into you! you’re afraid you’ll not even get him halfway in before he realizes his mistake in choosing you to fuck him. it’s not even your fault-

you scream at his hand smacking you across the ass, sharper this time, the sound cracking throughout the empty parking lot and forest like lightning. “i would appreciate it if you aren’t in your fucking head when i fuck you, Darling,” he says with gritted teeth, holding your hip in a bruising grip.

you quickly nod your head, forcing yourself not to overthink this and just go with the flow. you know it’ll hurt if you freak out and not relax enough for him to sink into you. Sylus taps his dick on the flesh of your ass, making you jump at both the heaviness and your skin stinging. he chuckles behind you, rubbing the head up and down your slit, teasing you like the asshole he is. you want to tell him to just shove it in already, a part of you impatient and needy for his cock, while another was thankful for Sylus taking his time with you. but all this waiting finally pays off when his fat head pushes between your folds and into your soaked hole, making you bite your lip.

fuck, he’s big. he’s so fucking big.

you hiss, digging your nails into the railing as he slowly pushes into you, stretching you out like never before. you’ve fucked big dildos before, all of your previous boyfriends never reaching the places you knew made your head spin. but with Sylus? he found places within your cunt that you’ve never felt before, causing you to moan unabashedly and step on your tiptoes, fighting yourself on whether or not this invasion in your body was worth the pleasure. Sylus however, keeps you grounded with his hand on your hip, pushing your feet flat on the ground again.

he makes sure to be slow, even if every cell in his body is screaming at him to just plow into your cunt and not care if it hurts or not. he will one day, but not tonight. he wanted to savor you, to savor the warmth and wetness and tightness of your walls wrapping around him like a blanket. your body was made for him, he thinks - no - he knows you were made for him. it’s the only explanation as to how you were able to take him so easily, fitting his cock like a glove. he eventually sinks in enough to the hilt and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his hips flush against your ass. Sylus’s hands grip your hips like a lifeline and he takes deep breaths in, his heart beating wildly with excitement vibrating throughout his veins. he wants to fuck you. to breed you. to fill you up and fuck the cum into you. he wants to keep you plugged up in his dick all the time.

“fucking hell, Kitten,” he all but groans behind you, moving his hands up and down your back. “you feel like heaven.”

the dichotomy in his words makes you snort but even laughing feels too much with how full you feel. it’s like you can feel his cock in your stomach, bullying his way past your intestines to fill you as much as possible. and when he pulls out and pushes back in, your breath gets caught in your throat, and you grip the railing with all your might. your juices coat his cock and drip down your thighs, making a puddle between your legs and you whimper. you weakly push back against him, trying to meet his thrusts but he holds you still, tutting his tongue.

“no, no, no, Princess, stay still for me,” he cooed, rubbing circles into your hip and setting a steady but slow pace in his thrusts. “don’t get greedy now.”

he says that but in reality, he feels as though if you meet his thrusts with yours, he’ll bust into you immediately - something that has never happened before considering how much restraint he has normally in sex. but it’s you here. it’s your angelic body that questions everything Sylus has ever thought about sex. he never thought he could be gentle; he never thought that actually taking the time to become one with someone could feel so intimate and special. your expressions, your sounds, your eyes; it makes him rethink ever wanting to fuck anyone again. a small part of him, a part he never knew of, wanted to make love to you next time. to sink you into his bed and connect with you, both body and soul. he shakes his head, cursing under his breath as you hold still like he asked. you were so good for him, so pretty and obedient. he grunts, slamming his hips against your ass and laughing breathlessly at your squeak in surprise. he looks down, watching your cunt swallow him whole and squeeze him when he pulls out. it’s like your body was begging him not to leave, to keep you full and happy. Sylus moves his hands down, using his thumb to spread your folds as he grabs your ass.

“your body is like nirvana, sweetheart, you know that?” he says gruffly, watching his cock go in and out of your soaked cunt with ease, your body now used to his size. “a fucking gift from the gods themselves.”

you moan again, your stomach fluttering at his praise and clenching around him. you look down in embarrassment, biting your lip to try and hide further noises, failing miserably.

he hisses at the tightness and leans down next to your ear. “i can feel you tightening up at my praise, doll, don’t hide from me,” he teases you, bullying his cock impossibly deeper into you and speeding up his thrusts slightly.

he fucks you like no other. bringing you to heights of pleasure you didn’t even know existed and molding your body to fit his. you’re afraid that he’s ruining you, corrupting your chances of ever finding a man who can make you soar the skies like this - you’re afraid that because of him, you won’t ever want to fuck anyone else again. how did this even happen? how in the world can one night with this man destroy any possibility of you being with any other man? you don’t know and probably won’t ever want to if it means he can fuck you like this for the rest of your life.

his hand moves from your hip to your stomach, feeling the indent of his cock inside of you and groans, resting his forehead to your shoulder. “do you feel me? do you feel my dick in your stomach like this?” he asks, pushing his fingers in the indent and causing you to gasp, nodding your head and moaning wantonly.

“i want to bite you,” he huffs, kissing across the upper part of your back and shoulders and back of your neck, sliding his tongue across your skin. “tell me i can, Princess. tell me i can mark this body of yours.”

you couldn’t even refuse him even if you wanted to and both of you knew that. Sylus then bares his fangs, sinking them into your shoulder and you hiss, surprised at his sharp his teeth were and you clench around him, the man groaning. he knew you liked pain, but god, it’s like you were fated to be bound to him. your blood tastes like the finest wine of all time, the ultimate sin a man can make and Sylus wanted to drink you dry. your blood spills from his bite and down your arm, but he catches it in time with his finger, not wanting to waste a drop. he laps at the wound, kissing over it and moving to the other side, sinking his fangs back into your neck. even if it hurt, it was like some kind of magic that flowed from his fangs into your bloodstream, dizzying you and melting you into him. fireworks light up in your cells and your skin tingles with frenzied tremors. he marks up your skin with bite marks and hickeys, puncture wounds in your shoulder and neck and upper arm, he drank from you like a starved man because he was. the hunger that Sylus felt all this time was hunger for you, for your blood, for your body that made him feel alive and whole again.

“give me this fucking cunt,” he growled into your ear, his thrusts now harsh and unforgiving, bruising your hip with one hand as he smacked your ass once more, gripping the other hip to steady himself. “i fucking earned this and you know i have, you know i deserve to do whatever i want with this damn body.”

“i know,” you wheezed, your breath stuck in your throat and you nod, tears pricking your eyes. “all yours. fuck, fuck, fuck!”

hearing you curse without restraint has Sylus grinning with pride, and he rewards you with his right hand hooking around you, using two of his fingers to circle your clit, relishing in your buck against him and loud moan. he feels you tightening, that all to familiar coil in your abdomen threatening to spring and explode everywhere. he keeps his thrusts steady and at the same tempo, encouraging you to cum around his cock, to give him your orgasm.

“you can do it, i gotcha, cum for me,” he says, kissing your cheek and wrapping his hand around your throat, pulling your back flush against his chest. “this orgasm is mine. i made you this dripping fucking wet on purpose. i want it. i earned it.”

this causes the coil inside you to snap and you all but screamed, gushing like a waterfall and squirting around his cock, causing Sylus to grit his teeth, groaning into your neck. “that’s it. atta-fucking-girl. fucking cream all over this dick.”

his orgasm is not that far behind, and Sylus forces you still and just take it. even with you begging him to slow down and that you were to sensitive, he just covers your mouth to silence you and chases after his own high, finally slamming you onto him as he cums inside you. his cum is thick and heavy and hot. you can feel him filling your womb and all up inside you, spilling down your thighs and mixing with your own arousal. your eyes roll back and you shiver against him, ragged and uneven breaths clawing out of your lungs and through your nose, spots of light blurring vision.

he then sits down in the car, moving his hand down from your mouth to wrap both arms around your waist. you splutter and cough up a storm, your body struggling between not having enough oxygen and having too much. but he keeps you still, allowing you to gracefully fall down from your high, steadying his own uneven breaths. the silence between the two of you is comforting, a silent contentment of what just happened and acceptance.

what happened tonight is something you’ll remember forever. your body now forever tainted and manipulated into only being satisfied with this dangerous and powerful man called “Sylus”. a sinner who dragged you out of the pearly gates to fall into the depths of hell.

and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Teen!Reader finding Alastor all beaten and bruised after the finale and getting worried, insisting in patching him up, etc, while Alastor during the entire time is having a moment of realization like "oh, this kid ACTUALLY cares about me"

(This is platonic obviously, reader sees him like a weird older brother/father figure and looks up to him idk)

I love it. Simple, enjoyable and to be honest, we’ll just pretend Alastor had his sick solo in the finale before we showed up and I suppose Al will be quite unhinged and aggressive in this state so goddamn. Also, my second time writing about the finale

Platonic! Alastor- Reaching Out

“You son of a bitch, I am trying to help you!” You growl out, now half-wrestling with the Radio Demon himself, after his lose battle against Adam. Whilst Adam has been finally defeated at Lucifer’s hand then killed at Niffty’s knife. It’s clear as crystal that Alastor isn’t taking his own defeat well at all. He’s aggressive, completely lost his usual charismatic, well-mannered demeanour, he’s breaking down and barking at you to back off as you’re still trying to pry his own hands off the visible red bleeding wound over his chest

You’ve found this retreating deer out of pure luck and now, you’re acting on your compassion for him to try make the process of healing less painful for him

You’re the only Hazbin Hotel staff member that actually treated Alastor more than an annoyance standing there. He isn’t the best guy at there, never. No, but he isn’t as bad as Vaggie or Husk claim he is. However, right now, he’s boiling your blood with how much he is refusing to let you even touch him, despite the fact he needs to be patched up. He’s low on power, his cane is snapped in half, he’s limited and requires help

“I don’t need your help, Leitora!” Alastor barks back in possibly the most unhinged way you’ve ever seen, basically backing into a wall. He can’t even notice how worried you actually are, how you’re getting frustrated because you’re worried and you’re the only one who has been looking for and have found Alastor whilst everybody else is celebrating the victory over Adam. You’re the one looking for and now looking out for the man you actually find quite nice. He isn’t as patronising to you, for whatever reason, Alastor’s decent and it’s almost like he wants to be some type of figure in your life with how he behaves

“Stay still before you bleed yourself to unconsciousness, you narcissistic edible piece of shit!” You only say this so cruelly, sharp and half loud as to put Alastor into his place, prove to him you’re not backing down whilst you finally win the half wrestling session you have with the weakened and distressed Overlord, already beginning to check around for the entire length of the wound and use what little excess fabric your current clothing has to make a makeshift bandage for this wound

This is surprising, you’re possibly two times his age. A teenager, if not 15-16 at the oldest upon your human death and you’re acting more mature than the biologically 34 year old. Alastor just stayed quiet, tall fluffy deer-like ears still pinned back and suffering through the intense pain. He wouldn’t admit that he is quite grateful that somebody is around but at the same time, he doesn’t want to get attached to any soul

It took him a proper glance at the cute young sinner he found it fun to playfully tease, mock and behave like a clingy overprotective big brother to piss off, that they genuinely care for him. That they aren’t lying or pretending as to get something out of him like he suspects everybody in the Hotel, including Charlie, is

This is so much different than he suspected, he was believing he’d be going back to his radio tower to vent out his rage at being smacked in the face of such a pathetic opponent

Ending up being the pathetic opponent. He hates showing his weakness and he can barely keep himself from snapping but he also can feel his racking nerves ease up a bit at this strong, confident yet sweet and compassionate kid trying to take care of him when they have no actual requirement to do so

Alastor takes a few more seconds to think and speak, not even realising he was sat down by you as he was thinking frantically about how his own mischievous and mocking behaviour as some type of surrogate brother for you was more than just something down to see your reactions for his own amusement, he does feel some type of family-based affections for you

Now, that affection has been bumped up even more. He definitely owns you a lot for caring about him like some surrogate little sibling when all he does for you is annoy you. He doesn’t even know that you actually look up to him like some type of family figure… so, the familiar feelings are mutual

“Fuck… can you just be careful with the coat? This is my treasure”

(A/N: Real quick. Leitora means ‘Reader’ in Portuguese, this’ll be our name for any none anime posts. There’s two versions; Leitora as the feminine version and Leitor as the masculine version. You can use either for us! I got this from Google Translate)

[beforeimdeceased]

IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PART OF CRYBABY

CRYBABY! - (E.W) PT7

pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.

synopsis: make it go away…

warnings: cunnilingus + fingering (r!recieving)

a/n: oh wow. oh wow. this was actually quite fun to write and i wanted to cry half way through because ironically enough my ex is being mean to me lmao 😭 i’m trying to cut contact and she’s just teasing me like “oh is she really leaving this time? really??” i’ve had ENOUGH

And I'm already actin' like a dick, know what I mean? So you might as well stick it in

masterlist.

the party is nothing like their usual after parties, but to be fair, you hadn’t been to one of these in months. crowds of people in their best clothes grinding against each other. dina onstage djing while jesse dances behind her. whispering sweet things in her ear. you spot a clear target in the crowd and walk down the stairs towards her.

flashing hues of red, blue, green, and purple cloud your vision as you struggle to approach abby. she decided to show her fucking face again, remembering she was your ride back home. once you push through everyone, you tap her broad shoulder and pull her to the side.

“where you been?” you lean against her, clearly gone. not in an intoxicated way, but a mental way. she could see it in your face. in your eyes. in the sunken areas underneath. in the way you were leaning like you were in pain. you fix your posture, putting more walls up. you could tell she was seeing through you.

“are you okay?” she furrows her brows, holding her hand out to touch your cheek. you dodge it. “why the fuck wouldn’t i be?” you spat. she places the tips of her index and thumb finger on the bridge of her nose, scrunching her face, and sighs. “i should’ve never said that to you. i was still mad at ellie and i took it out on you. i’m sorry—“

“oh fuck it. who cares? everybody keeps treating me like a punching bag and you know what? punching bags don’t have feelings. i don’t want to feel anymore i just—“

she’s looking at you horrified now. watching ellie take full effect over you. all her cruelty submerging itself into your brain. slowly acting as a parasite on the you she used to know. pieces of that girl were being lost. she was watching it happen in real time.

“i—fuck i need to get you out of here.”

“but i just got here abs. and we haven’t seen ellie—“

as if it was on cue, ellie appears from a gap in the crowd. her eyes meet yours, and she rushes over to you as she watches abby wrap her arms around you and try to lead you out.

“wait. let me talk to her.” ellie grabs your arm.

“you better fucking let go or you’re gonna loose all your fucking fingers.” abby chimes up, pulling you towards her. ellie laughs. “i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you only get one of those. and that was it.”

“oh really?”

“guys seriously.” you pull out of both of their grasps. “enough. i’m not a fucking baby. everybody always treats me like i’m some fucking fragile fucking baby. fuck off.” you look between the two of them. “we’re at a goddamn party, so let’s party.”

the music is louder than it was before. you let it take over your body, taking one of each girls hands into your own and leading them into the crowd. body grinding against them to the beat of the song.

“listen, i really need to talk to you!” ellie yells over it. abby is behind you snaking a hand around your waist to pull you closer to her. maneuvering her body to move the way yours was. “no way in hell is that happening.” she yells back for you.

ellie’s thinking about how hard she wants to punch her. while she’s looking at the way she’s holding you. while you’re smiling. while she balls her fist up and her knuckles turn white. while her breathing starts to calm when she focuses on your hand still in hers, prompting you to dance.

“we’ll talk after this then, okay? at the hotel?” her tone is hopeful.

she’s being such a party pooper. prying you for an answer, making it hard for you to enjoy the moment. you feel a rush of emotions creeping in. another memory, another after party.

a very unhappy ellie that’s made a simple mistake onstage. an unnoticeable strum of the wrong string. it was fucking her up. she was drunkenly stumbling around until someone had started to help her sober up. then she stumbled across you. sweet, angelic, kind, perfect and happy you. enjoying the fucking party. ofcourse, you’d left crying that night.

you feel the tears welling up but you swallow them down. “fine let’s go talk ellie, since you’re begging so fucking much. i’ll be right back abs.” you reply.

she leads you to a secluded bathroom in the far back. holding your hand and dragging you along like purse. she closes and locks the door, leaning against it.

there are fucking tears threatening to spill, you can hear it in her voice when she speaks up. “i don’t—fuck i don’t know what i’ve done to you.”

you scoff.

“no i mean i do. i fucked you up. fuck. how do i fix it? what do you want me to do?”

you’re transported back again. another bathroom, holding ellie as she cries into you. switches to screaming at you, then crying into you again. blaming you for the guitar string mistake. blaming you for her forgetting the lyrics onstage. telling you that you’re truly useless, and she has no idea why dina and jesse drag you around with them.

why won’t it go away?

“make it go away.” you look into her glossy eyes. interlocking your fingers with hers and looking up at her with desperate eyes. a little bit of the old you slipping in before your face molds into a devious expression.

“make it fuzzy. make me forget. make it go away.”

she’s confused at first, and then she laughs cockily. she’s laughing as you pull her closer. she’s laughing as she pushes you up against the counter with a fervor, finding your low grunt of pleasure pure ecstasy.

her lips crash into yours, hands grappling into your waist. “i’m sorry.” she pulls away then dives back in. “i’m sorry.” she kisses your cheek. “i’m so fucking stupid.” she kisses your jawline. “let me fuck all of this away, okay?” she whispers into your ear.

your mind is growing fuzzy with her hands all over you. tugging up your shirt to kiss and lick and smile against your skin, down your chest to your stomach. tugging on your pants and your underwear. spreading your legs, pushing them apart before attaching her lips to your dripping cunt. tongue slipping in between your folds spreading your wetness to your clit.

you slip your hands into her messy hair, tugging when she sucks harder. slapping her tongue against your bud. the vibration of her humming hard against your heat. she’s eating you out and she’s being so fucking sloppy with it. she’s making a mess of you. making your legs tremble underneath you. you hadn’t realized you’d been crying out for her. actually crying. tears of pleasure were spilling down your face as you moaned her name.

she pulls away when she realizes, hands cupping your face to wipe them away. “i’m making you cry again.” she states.

you open your mouth to respond, but you’re cut off by a moan getting pushed out of your throat when her fingers slip into your sloppy sopping hole. curved to hit a spot that was pure euphoria. better than drugs. better than revenge. you were intoxicated. feeling a knot in your stomach start to build as ellie stares into your teary eyes.

she looks like she’s about to say something but she chooses to kiss you instead. on your forehead. on your neck. on your tear stained cheeks. on your pouted lips.

in, out. in, out. at an unsympathetic pace, she’s pounding into you so hard you can’t think. she’s doing exactly what she promised. she’s making it all fuzzy for you. she’s helping you forget. she’s helping you feel something other than pain.

you feel yourself coming undone, throwing your head back as you reach your peak. her lips are at your ear as she whispers softly.

“there you go baby. i got you. it’s okay. i’m sorry. just let it go.”

and you do. you let it all melt away as the pleasure pins and needles run up and down your body. as your eyes roll back. as you forget. forget the hurt. forget the past. forget how to feel.

[pennyellee]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

title: champagne confetti pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 14K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 release date: 24.1.2024 23:00/11 PM CEST - 17:00/5 PM EDT

summary: You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, unprotected sex, jk is selfish af, jk is delulu, oral (fem and m receiving), spanking, implied cum swallowing, creampie, soft yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, choking, rough sex, pussy pounding, bruises, manipulation, gaslighting, strong language disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

author's note: so, ehm, this story got way outta my hands, it was supposed to be a goddamn rom-com with enemies to lovers trope - i wanted to build around the character trope of Rachel Green from Friends because she is my favourite character of all times, what i wanted to build around was how Rachel was offered a job at Louis Vuitton but it was in Paris - that was supposed to be the whole plot (with slight changes ofc), well and somehow it went in a different direction. Nonetheless I really enjoyed writing this fic and i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much. See you on the 24th chummers, love you! 🩵

“I know you took it,” you said, crossing your arms on your breasts. The heels of your black leather boots echoed in the apartment when you turned to face him.

“Took your breath away by that heated kiss, sexy, certainly. Otherwise I did not take anything.” Jungkook scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. The tension in the room was palpable as you square your shoulders, refusing to back down. You blinked twice at his cheesiness. The tip of your tongue moved to rest on the bottom of your upper teeth, your smile spreading on your face. The chuckle came out of you so naturally, laughing at his ridiculously ridiculous behaviour.

“Don’t play dumb, I know it was all you. You malicious sabotaging petty boy—” You retorted, articulation perfectly clear while the words laced with underlying frustration and anger.

He sighed, weariness settling over him. “You think I stole your portfolio to sabotage your career? You’re giving me too much credit, love.” Here he comes.

“I said nothing about my portfolio, Jungkook.” You said playing with his name on your tongue. A tense silence hung in the air as he considered your words, clicking his tongue, clearly annoyed and you were just getting started.

“I managed to figure that out. A drink?—” He offered, shrugging her statements of like snow in summer whilst he moved to the small bar that was a part of his spacious living room.

“I don’t want a drink, Jungkook. I want it back now,” you replied, your tone cutting through the casual offer. The anger in your gaze intensified, fuelled by the frustration of dealing with his nonchalant attitude.

“Let’s talk, baby.” He gestured towards the living room, as if trying to usher you into a more comfortable setting for the impending confrontation. He knew this was just a little shower, the real storm was still far away, giving him space to prepare.

As you moved, you couldn't help but notice the contrast between your demeanour and his. While your arms were still crossed defensively, his posture exuded a calm confidence that irked you further.

You took a seat on the edge of the sofa, not willing to fully settle into the illusion of camaraderie. Jungkook, on the other hand, sprawled onto a nearby chair, the picture of nonchalance.

���I need that portfolio to get a job because a certain someone has to be bitchy and sabotage my whole career because his big ass ego cannot take rejection. Give it to me,” you fired off, your words sharp and accusatory. He leaned back in the chair, smirking.

“Those are very bold words, Y/N. I would prefer to think of it as a wake-up call for you, not sabotage.” Your incredulous glare only intensified.

“Are you fucking serious Jungkook? A wake up call? You’ve just jeopardised everything I’ve worked for, and you’re calling this a wake up call?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locked onto yours.

“I can get you a better job.”

You scoffed. The audacity of his response fuelled the simmering anger within you.

“You can’t get a shit, so give it back to me, and I’ll be on my way,” you requested.

Jungkook’s smirk remained, an infuriating mix of arrogance and nonchalance.

“No,” he said, smiling. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, the frustration reaching a boiling point. He leaned back, seemingly unperturbed by your rising anger.

“What do you mean no?!” you shot back, your voice sharp.

“You were about to make a decision that would have consequences beyond your imagination. I had to intervene.”

“What the fuck are you on again?” Jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you, the intensity of his stare almost unnerving while your voice went an octave higher. Your frustration reached its peak, and you stood up, pacing the room as you ranted. You were breathing heavily, trying to calm yourself.

You needed that portfolio, it was a collection of years of a work and your best work to be specific. The lousy new version won’t get you a job at no high-profile fashion brand and you cannot afford to go lower than your last position.

“Alright—” You said defeated, turning yourself to face him again, you put off your black leather jacket and fixed your low ponytail, slumping back to his sofa. Spreading your arms on the backrest and cross your legs.

Jungkook took a moment to breathe in the sight before him; he was throbbing for you.

“—what do you want?” you asked. He leaned back further into the chair, putting his masculine tattooed arms to rest on the back of his head, showing his abs from under the white tank top he is wearing.

“What do I want?” he mused, as if contemplating the question but he already knew.

“Spill it out.” You barked and he chuckled at your eagerness. He got up from his seat and dangerously slowly walked towards you.

When he reached you, both of his arms pressed to the leather of the sofa inches from you, caging your body. Your breath stammered as you looked at him towering over you, the golden chain around his neck hanging.

“Firstly, I want you to be my good girl, apologise for being a brat the other day and admit there is an “us”. Secondly—” he whispered seductively, closing the approximate distance while doing so. He was right in your face, looking over at your lips evidently he was controlling himself to not attack them. He invaded your personal space. The sudden shift in atmosphere left you breathless, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to succumb to the intoxicating energy he exuded. “I won’t apologise for any shit, now secondly?” You said while trying to hold your horses. You hate to admit your pussy was clenching and leaking under his gaze. He was attractive, and no one could deny that.

His fingers grazed your cheek gently, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You swallowed hard, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

“I want these feisty little plump lips wrapped around my thick cock—”

.

.

.

read here

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @pamzn - @jaedayy - @mylyus-blog - @vanillacupcakefrosting - @jjeonjjk7 - @darkuni63 - @jeonaraathedreamer - @urlovelily - @kissyfacekoo - @looneybleus - @btspurplesky - @seokseokjinkim

ps: lemme know if you want to be additionally tagged! 🩵

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

[always-and-forever-daydreaming]

A helping hand

warnings : (my writing probably, haha) none? just fluff and some good old hand kink, mention of blood Honestly, I have no idea how to write, but hands of this man have been haunting me for long enough to make me post this.Also, English is not my first language, so if you find any mistake, please, correct me. Enjoy, fellow Mikaelson whores! <3 Also the most amazing @archangelslollipop made this edit you see above, thank you, bestie. She also made me post this.

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

You were reading a book when Elijah stormed into the room. Well, this was his study after all. You immediately closed it and put your full attention onto him. You never seen him like this. He was pacing back and forth, his chest heavily raising and falling. You were actually scared.

What could have happened to leave this normally very calm man looking like this?

He finally stopped, looking outside through the window, as he ran his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh. You noticed his jacket was missing, his tie wasn't straight and his shirt had few buttons undone.

Then your eyes landed on his hands.

His rolled up sleeves exposed his arms. You swallowed the lump in your throat. His arms and hands were always your weakness. You just couldn't stop looking at them for some reason. Well, for a very obvious reason, really. And the longer your eyes lingered on them, the more heat started spreading through your body. Your imagination was already running wild. You could almost feel those hands touching your body, fingers trailing down your throat and then closing around it. Not enough to kill you, of course, but enough to make you hot and bothered.

You closed your eyes and exhaled trying to clear your head.

"I think I should leave..." you mumbled and stood up from you seat.

"No!" Elijah exclaimed loudly.

You froze in your actions and looked at him in disbelief. You never heard him raise his voice like that, let alone while he was speaking with you.

"I apologize for my outburst,"he said as he looked at the ground, his voice much quieter, "Please, stay right where you are, if you do not need to go, that is."

You were eyeing him for a while. Why did he want you here? It's not like you could do much to help. Not that he would tell you what was going on, anyway.

But at the state that he was in, you didn't dare to ask.

"Alright."

You sat back on the chair.

He let out a loud breath and started pacing around the room again. That went for about 5 more minutes, his pace was still the same if not quicker, so you took all the courage that you could muster and tried to intervene.

"Elijah?"

It seemed as he was waiting for that, because he started to passionately elaborate what happened with anger in his voice.

"Nothing is going according to plan. Nothing. And now they -"

He stopped and let out a breath, his shoulders shaking, knuckles whitening as he clutched a corner of his working desk.

You gulped.

Those goddamn hands are going to be the end of you.

"Those pathetic existences think that they could lay a finger on you."

That brought you back out of your dirty imagination rather quickly. This whole ordeal was about you?

"You mean the De Martel siblings?"you asked as you watched him pour a glass of bourbon.

The Mikaelsons really have a bottle of an expensive alcohol in every room in their house. And boy, does the house have a lot of rooms.

"Yes. I should have ended the both of them centuries ago. Aurora is a complete lunatic and that narcissistic waste of space..."

He shook his head and downed the golden liquid in his glass with one gulp.

"But why?"

He turned to face you and narrowed his eyes.

"Pardon?"

You stood up and made one step towards him.

"Why me? Why Are they threatening to hurt me?"

He put his glass down and his mahagony eyes locked with yours.

"Because you're important to me."

Your breath hitches, your heart stops.

"To all of us," he adds quickly and turns away from you again.

Disappointment fills your entire body. How could you even for a second think that you mean something more to him? You should be grateful that the siblings care for you as a good friend. They're like your family, you basically live at their mansion now and you love all of them.

But with Elijah...

You just couldn't help but want something more. He was the definition of perfect in your head. How completely selfish and pathetic of you.

"And Tristan had the audacity to take your beautiful name into his disgusting mouth. I am going to destroy him."

You shivered at his cold tone. Suddenly, there was a loud shattering sound. Your head snapped in his direction and you saw that he broke the glass while he was holding it. You closed the distance between the two of you and carefully grabbed his hand by his wrist. 

"Oh my god, Elijah," you whispered as you were looking at his palm that was full of shards of glass, blood trickling from the cuts.

"It's nothing, please, don't hurt yourself."

His voice was smooth, like velvet caressing your brain.

You quietly laughed and answered : "It's not nothing. You're literally bleeding and you're worried about me getting hurt?"

He chuckled in response.

"You know that my wounds heal much faster than yours."

You rolled your eyes.

"Yes, but not when you have glass still inside them. Let me get those out for you. Do you have a tweezers by any chance?"

He used his other hand to open one drawer and handed them to you. It scared you how organized he was.

You hopped on his desk and took his hand on your lap. The lamp was shining its light right where you needed it, so you could see even the little pieces glittering in it. You carefully took them out, one by one. Comfortable silence surrounded. You were trying not to focus on the fact that you were holding the hands that didn't let you sleep for the last week. Well, maybe even longer than that.

"I think there's none left," you said as you were turning his hand to see if you missed some.

"Thank you, my dear. I appreciate your help."

His voice was warm again, and you could almost feel his chest vibrating, that's how close you two were.

You just smiled and kept staring at your almost locked hands.

"Forgive me, it seems some of my blood got on your hands."

He handed you his hankerchief. You took it with your free hand. You didn't want to let go.

"Y/n?"

You looked up at him. Fuck it. You might not get any other chance to do this. And you only live once, and god knows for how long when De Martels are trying to get you and you're just a human.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have very good looking hands?"

You were shocked that you actually said it out loud. Elijah was taken aback too. To say the least. His eyes widened and his lips parted.

That's it. He's gonna call you a creep, kick you out of their house. This is the end of your fairytale.

"No, I believe noone has ever told me that," he smiled at you.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, you smiled back at him and brushed you thumb over the back of his hand. He closed his eyes and leaned closer to you. One hand staying on your lap, the other finding yours that was resting by your side, clutching the piece of cloth he gave you. You felt your fingers interlock and you closed your eyes too. You couldn’t believe that this was happening.

„Has anyone ever told you that you’re the most beautiful being inside and out that they have ever come across during a millenium?“ he whispered to your ear.

Goosebumps appeared on your skin. You didn’t dare to open your eyes. You felt like you’re in a dream and if you open them, it will all go away. Your heart was singing his song.

„No, I believe noone has ever told me that,“ you repeat his words, smile plastered on your face.

And than it happened. You smelled his cologne more intensely than ever before, that scent that was driving you crazy and brought peace to your soul at once. Your heart sank when he took his hand out of yours on your lap, but only for a second, until you felt it brush your cheek gently, almost carefully, like you were going to fade away in a second.

His warmth welcomed you as he leaned closer and closer. And then your lips touched. It was like fireworks went off in your brain. After a moment, he pulled away and your foreheads were touching.

It was almost an innocent kiss, a quick peck. But it said everything you both needed in that moment.

You burried your face into the crook of his neck and put your hands around it. His fingers played with the loose locks of your hair. You were in a blissfully unknown state.

„These hands won’t let them come near you. They won’t have a chance to even touch a hair on your precious head,“ he mumbled as he kissed the top of it.

You giggled.

„But I wouldn’t mind if they would touch me in the meantime,“your voice was muffled by his neck.

He took you by your shoulders and gently pulled you away from him, so he could see your face.

„Oh, is that so?“

He smiled, his eyes twinkled and he kissed you again. For much longer this time.

Much, much longer.

[sadhours]

Please god picture this:

Billy pinning Steve up against the cold tiled shower wall in the high school. He's fed up with the mind games, the pecocking, the teasing. Steve, intimidated but not standing down, rolls his eyes and struggles underneath Billy's mean smirk and intense stare. He mutters out a "Fucks sake Hargrove, get off me".. Billy, voice laced with need, replies "Make me."

Thank you for this request. I’ve been wanting to delve into Harringrove but haven’t really been super confident. I hope you like this, I had a fucking field day writing it. I love these two.

warnings; 18+ minors dni, all smut baby, Steve is having bi-panic

Steve used to like basketball. Back when it was actually fun and not a goddamn pissing contest with the new blonde asshole from California. Practice went from a nice way to blow off steam and hangout with people he’d known forever without pressure. Then Billy joined the team and every fucking practice felt like a battle. Steve couldn’t pinpoint why he was so dead set on one-uping him but fuck, was it exhausting. The thing was, Steve thought he didn’t care about the status bullshit anymore. Then when it all fell apart with Nancy, he felt himself getting wrapped back up in it due to the distraction it supplied. Or maybe it was the way Billy was so pushy about it, like because it mattered to him, it should matter to Steve.

Today’s practice was particularly brutal. Billy was making illegal moves left and right but Coach didn’t call it out a single fucking time, like he thought letting Billy play dirty would inspire Steve to play better. The motherfucker talked so much. That was the worst part, he’d hog the ball up and down the court, spouting goddamn monologues at Steve. It was clear from the taunting look in his bright blue eyes that he got something from taunting Steve, whatever the hell it was is a mystery but it got under Steve’s skin.

The night he’d been told Nancy skipped school with Jonathan, Steve tried to jerk off before bed and got sick when he’d thought about her. Then something fucking weird happened and he thought about the shit Billy had said to him on the court and in the shower. It didn’t make him go soft in his hand like he’d expected and he shamefully stroked his dick, imagining Billy criticizing how he was jerking himself off. When he’d spilled spunk all over his hand and stomach, he felt so incredibly embarrassed that he did so while thinking of Billy Hargrove of all people. Steve thought about it the next day when he’d seen Billy and his whole body went white hot with shame and unfortunately, arousal.

Steve tries not to think of it as he showers now. How the fuck he ended up alone in the locker room with Hargrove was a mystery to him. They both took too long shit talking after Coach excused them all. Steve curses himself about it, knowing no one sticks around for long and Coach leaves as soon as he excuses them. Feeling uneasy around Hargrove wasn’t new but it was made ten times worse by the fact that he’d become Steve’s jack off material.

They’re showering. Right next to each other. There’s at least 20 other nozzles Billy could have chosen but no, he picks the one directly to Steve’s left. They’re lathering up, silent and fuck, it’s awkward. Steve won’t let his eyes wander, he’d already done so before so he knows what Billy’s working with but if he does it now, he risks popping a boner and Billy might actually beat his face in if that happens.

“You really play like shit, Harrington,” Billy says, eyes rolling over to Steve.

“Do you ever fucking shut up?”

Hargrove snorts, reaching out to shut Steve’s steam off, “Do you ever make shots?”

Steve turns the faucet back on, “When you’re not breathing down my fucking neck.”

“Did you guys even win a single game before I showed up?”

Steve thinks back, of course they did but to be fair, they’d been winning way more in the short month Billy’s been on the team. He can’t inflate this fuckers ego even more, though.

“Yeah,” he settles on, rinsing his hair out and turning off the flow of water.

“Bullshit,” Billy scoffs.

Steve turns to him finally, telling himself that when Billy’s eyes lower that he’s definitely not looking at his cock. There’s no way.

“Why would I lie about that?”

Hargrove frowns, “To make yourself feel better.”

“It’s high school basketball, I don’t really give a shit.”

“Easy for you to say, pretty boy. Daddy’s gonna make sure you get into college no matter what,” Billy retorts, shutting off his shower.

Steve rolls his eyes, “You’ve got no fucking clue.”

It happens quick, Hargrove’s grabbing his wrists and walks him back against the wall. The tiles are cold as Steve’s back is pressed against them. Billy’s palm presses against Steve’s chest and he shoves him harder against the wall. His skin feels hot against Steve’s. He can’t get a boner from this. He can’t. Grandma’s face, dead puppies, every trick in the book to keep his dick from stirring.

“For fucks sake, Hargrove,” Steve seethes, “Get the fuck off me!”

Billy licks his lower lip, smirk spreading against his face as he says, desperate, “Make me, Steve.”

It’s the first time he’s ever called him by his first name and Steve can’t help the way his dick fills out from it, he stares up at Billy with big, brown wide eyes. They hold onto the stare, each of them panting but Billy’s the first to break it, glancing between their bodies and Steve can’t help but follow. They’re both achingly hard, tips red and leaking an absurd amount.

“Knew it,” Billy mutters before he’s crashing his mouth agains Steve’s, teeth clacking before they both roll their tongues out to taste the other.

His words taint Steve’s mind. What the hell did he mean? Did he know Steve’s been jerking off to thought of him? Was Steve being obvious? He thinks about it too hard apparently because Billy pulls away from the kiss.

“It’s okay, ya know,” he mumbles to which the brunette nods, it feels too good for it to be wrong.

“Okay,” Steve chokes out, wrapping his fingers around the back of Billy’s neck and pulls him back so he can lick into his mouth. Fuck expectations, fuck shame, Billy tastes too good and Steve’s dick wants this more than anything to stop. He’s pushing his body against Steve’s, their cocks rub against each other and it pulls a groan from him, Billy swallowing it while he grinds against Steve. Now he’s glad everyone left before them.

Hargrove is a talker so it shouldn’t surprise Steve when he pulls back, “You been wanting this, Harrington?”

But Steve isn’t easy so he grunts, “Shut up.”

The laugh that erupts from the blonde boy is cruel yet so god damn sexy that Steve grabs Billy’s hips and pulls him closer. It’s eager on Steve’s part but he can’t find it in him to care. Billy’s right, he’s been wanting this and he’s gonna let himself indulge in it.

Billy’s hands grab their cocks, loosely stroking them in his grip while he groans into Steve’s mouth. He’s never felt anything like it. He panics momentarily because shit, this is gay but Hargrove is pretty almost like a girl so is it that gay? He doesn’t have time to really think much about it because Billy’s dropping to his knees but grips Steve’s cock at the base and squeezes.

“Oh, shit,” Steve exhales, “Shit, shit, shit.”

Billy Hargrove is gonna suck his dick. He almost can’t believe it’s happening so he doesn’t dare look away. He’s waiting for the sound of his alarm to go off, this has to be a fucking wet dream. Billy’s lips are so red and swollen from the kissing and fuck, Steve’s worried he’s gonna blow his load the second Billy wraps his lips around him.

“Jesus Christ,” he says in disbelief as it happens. He doesn’t ruin it by coming immediately but his hips jerk and he shoves himself down Billy’s throat with the motion and Steve’s confronted with the fact that Billy’s done this before because he doesn’t choke or gag, instead he sucks, hard. His blue eyes intense as he stares back up at Steve. “Dear fucking lord,” he curses, clenching his fists where he holds them against the tile.

He sees Hargrove’s lips curl up with the hint of smile and he’s annoyed slightly. He just knows this is making Billy just that much more full of himself. It’s barely began but it’s the top tier of blow jobs, the best Steve’s ever had. The way Hargrove swallows around his cock which feels so fucking incredible, he’s whining because of it. He wonders what Billy’s thinking. Obviously, he likes Steve in some kind of way to even wanna get his cock in his mouth. But Steve wonders if the pretty boy bullshit was because Billy legitimately thinks he’s pretty. No time to really stew on it though because Billy cradles his balls in his hand while he bobs up and down on Steve’s pulsing length, sucking his cheeks in whenever he descends. He looks downright ethereal, pink lips, flushed cheeks and glassy blue eyes. Fuck, Billy’s gorgeous. He’s floored by it, moving his hands into the damp curls at the crown of Billy’s head.

“Fuck,” he drawls, “You’re so pretty.”

Billy pulls off of him with a pop, “You’re the pretty one, pretty boy.”

Steve fucking whimpers, it’s pathetic but god damn, the name has taken on a whole new meaning for him. Billy’s wanted him. This whole time.

He curls his tongue around his tip and Steve can’t tear his eyes away, jaw open while pants fall out. It’s never been like this. When Steve’s with girls, there’s a goal in mind, he’s focused on getting off but now, he wants this to last forever and somehow he’s able to hold off on his orgasm, though Billy’s blowing him better than any girl ever has. Then he’s moving away, to lick at Steve’s balls and seriously, he’s in fucking heaven. Girls ignore his sack.

“Jesus,” he breathes, watching in awe while the blonde strokes him slowly, thumb padding against his slit.

Steve’s flooded with the promise of his orgasm, Billy mouthing at his sack while he pulls on his cock.

“Shit,” he curses out, voice wrecked, “Gonna cum.”

Billy moves to wrap his lips around his head and sinks down, swallowing his length and Steve busts, shooting cum down Billy’s throat. He can feel Billy gulp it down which only pulls more from him. He looks obscene as he sits back, lips puffy and pupils blown.

Steve pants against the wall as he stares down at him. He’s a little perturbed as he realizes he wants to get his lips around Hargrove’s cock because in all his times of jacking off with Billy at the forefront of his mind, he was never pleasing the blond. But he wants to now. Wants to see if he’s up to the job.

“Your turn?” Steve proposes, a little shy.

Billy chuckles, standing up and grabbing a hold of Steve’s anxious fingers.

“Don’t know if you’re experienced enough to handle it, pretty boy.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit close, Billy might be right. He’s never had a cock in his mouth but he thinks he’s a quick leaner.

“I can try,” he mumbles but Billy just pats his cheek.

“Next time,” he whispers before making his way toward his locker.

Next time, Steve hangs on the words.

[pico-farad]

This Time on Yu-Gi-Oh Vrains Analysis: How the Fuck Did Aoi's Writing Get Worse

Got sidetracked by GX Week, but I'm back to talk about Aoi again, because oh boy...

So for season 1, I'd heard the rumors of how they screwed her over, and they were mostly in line with the ways I expect Yugioh female characters to be failed by the writers. Overall I still liked Aoi and, while I found some decisions distasteful, I didn't think the actual quality of her writing was worse than other characters'.

Aoi's writing in season 2 is several times worse than it was in season 1. It's truly a disaster, amateurish and baffling, in a way that I think most viewers don't even consciously realize. And while it may not be the worst moment in Yugioh -- it is, in my opinion, the worst writing I've ever seen in Yugioh.

Anyway, that's how I wrote 4k words descending into Aoi madness. Enjoy!

---

Before I begin, a fair warning: I'm gonna say some harsh things in this post. Because being mean is funny, and I deserve it after what I just watched.

But I also want say up front that I don't think the Vrains writers are bad writers, and I still have respect for them. Writing for children's television is grueling work that I could never do, and there are many reasons why bad art is released into the world besides simple writing skill. Vrains clearly had a troubled production, and I have other suspicions about why it turned out the way it did. If there's interest, I think that could be its own post, too.

Also, I refer to the "writers" in this post when I criticize Vrains's storytelling, but to be clear, directors, producers, storyboarders, and others can have just as much influence over the show's story as writers, or even more so. I use the term writers for convenience's sake.

Without further ado...

⇀ Losing My Mind Immediately

Akira lets Aoi go into the restricted area, which nobody has ever returned from.

Ahem... WHO ARE YOU??? Why is Akira, overprotective onii-san numero uno, extremely willing to put his sister on house arrest for her own safety, has never given Aoi his permission to fight, suddenly letting her go off into a danger zone with a 0% survival rate, right after she lost to Spectre immediately in the Tower of Hanoi conflict.

Oh, so now you think she's capable? Why???

Not only that, they make Ghost Girl be the one to say it's too dangerous for her. What?? Ghost Girl is the one who encouraged Aoi to sneak out and into the danger zone in season 1. These are literally the last two characters who would say these things to Aoi.

Then, when they enter the restricted area, Aoi immediately gives up her emergency logout program to an NPC. Normally I'd brush this off. Naivety being used to emphasize female characters' moral virtuosity is passé, but it's not a big deal. It wouldn't be, if the next 30 seconds didn't make me completely go off the rails. This is the speech that is possibly the worst writing, line by line, that I have ever seen in Yugioh.

Roll the tape...

Aoi: Recent events have taught me that I'm still a child. I took on Hanoi for my brother, but look how that turned out. I troubled everyone, and they needed to save me. I was full of myself, thinking I can do anything on my own, but in truth, the world is full of people and we're all connected. Everyone saved me. So this time, I want to save everyone. I'll become stronger, so this time, I'll do everything I can!

Literally none of these sentences make sense... Half of them aren't even true. It reads like ChatGPT asked to write a shonen speech -- the facade of being inspiring, but ultimately empty and nonsensical.

"I took on Hanoi for my brother," This is blatantly false. She had a whole goddamn episode focused on why she decides to fight Hanoi, it's her duel with Baira, and it's specifically about how she's not doing this for her brother, she's not doing this for herself, she's doing this for everyone. If anything, she disregards her brother in order to fight Hanoi.

Blue Angel: I learned something from my duels. When people believe in you, you're fighting for everyone. So I will fight for everyone from now on!

Sound familiar? It's the same goddamn thing she's saying right now, "this time, I want to save everyone." Why are they framing this as Aoi having a new realization, having learned her lesson? What they demonstrate with this is that Aoi hasn't learned her lesson. The reason she lost to Spectre is because trying to save everyone includes trying to save him, and he takes advantage of her naivety.

Blue Angel: You're the same as me... When you were alone, you sought love, and Blue Angel's blue is the ultimate love! Blue Angel will descend into your heart, and save your soul! Spectre: Really? *bows mockingly* Please, then, save my soul!

Naively trying to save others is exactly what she's doing right now, by thoughtlessly giving away her emergency logout in a place that nobody has ever returned from. Her character has gone completely backwards. I said in my last post that losses are good because we get to see characters grow -- I stand by the opinion that they could have made the Spectre loss work -- but they've bungled it on three different levels. She loses horribly, then they retcon her reason for losing, in order to make her character regress.

Apparently, the real reason Aoi lost to Spectre, is because "she was full of herself, thinking she could do anything on her own." I'm so mad. First of all, Aoi clearly wasn't acting on her own and never thought she was, Go and Yusaku were both fighting Hanoi too. Why are they acting like Aoi lost because of hubris?

You know who thought he could do everything on his own? Yusaku. But clearly he didn't need to learn that "the world is full of people and we're all connected." He clearly believed the opposite, because he did everything by himself and tried to reject allyship at every turn and yet lo and behold, he hasn't lost a single duel.

"Everyone saved me. So this time, I want to save everyone." NO, LITERALLY ONE PERSON SOLO'D HANOI, AND EVERYONE ELSE DID JACK SHIT. This resolution that Aoi comes to not only regresses her character, but it makes no goddamn sense. Who is the everyone you're talking about, Aoi? Are they in the room with us right now?

Who am I kidding, it's obvious who the "everyone" is, because as she says it, the clip that plays is Akira's manpain as Aoi gets turned into data. Because even in this moment that has nothing to do with Akira, the writers cannot resist bending Aoi's character to revolve around how much she loves her beloved onii-san, even though it makes no sense in this context of trying to save a random NPC. 

Frankly, the whole "everyone saved me" also makes no sense in the context of trying to save a random NPC. But like, even less sense than that, because the actual context of this "heartfelt" shonen speech is that she's trying to get Ghost Girl to give up her emergency logout button. Ghost Girl, established to be self-serving and willing to throw others under the bus to advance herself. Why does this speech convince her? It doesn't even have anything to do with her.

Great, so now not only have they botched Aoi's character, but for the rest of the show, Ghost Girl is stripped of the characteristics that actually made her engaging.

If they wanted Aoi to convince Ghost Girl to give up her escape program and become more selfless, it's simple. Have her say, "We saved you." Ghost Girl wouldn't be standing here right now, if Aoi and the others hadn't risked everything to save everyone.

There's more I could pick on about these 30 seconds, like how the writers aren't content with handing Aoi a humiliating loss, but they also make her act like she deserved to be "humbled" by that experience: "Recent events have taught me that I'm still a child," "I troubled everyone, and they needed to save me." It's like they're not content with infantilizing her in the narrative, they need to make sure she infantilizes herself.

Which brings me back to the point about Aoi's "hubris." Because what is implied by saying that Aoi lost because of hubris when nothing she said or did suggested that, is that it was hubris for Aoi to fight at all. It was hubris for Aoi, and the audience, to believe she could do anything. Which is just maddening.

And to top it all off, to add insult to indignity to injury to insanity, she finishes her speech by saying, "I'll become stronger! This time, I'll do everything I can!"

AND THEN. SHE LOSES. IN THE NEXT EPISODE.

This speech reads like a bad influencer apology. First they "admit" their mistake (that Blue Angel didn't do anything in the Hanoi fight), then they deflect and change the story about what actually happened (it's because she was being full of herself! That's definitely why she lost), and finally they promise to do better (don't worry, this season, Aoi will get stronger and get some wins!), but they don't.

I can talk more about how the writers give Aoi shallow girlboss speeches instead of actually demonstrating her strength in duels, but that will come when I talk about Blue Maiden. 

Right now... it's time to talk about Blue Girl vs. Soulburner.

⇀ What's in a re-introductory duel?

Something that's pretty standard in Yugioh is the concept of the season 2 "re-introductory duel." Think Shou's promotion duel in GX, the filter episodes that came before the World Grand Prix arc started, the Sector Security battle royale in Arc-V. They can be story-relevant, or completely filler, but the point is to re-familiarize you with the main supporting characters. If you look at the first 10 episodes of a Yugioh season 2, you'll generally see all the main supporting characters represented in a duel. And if they aren't, it may reveal something about how relevant they are to the writers (Misawa GX, Ruka 5D's, Yuzu Arc-V...)

Go gets his re-introductory duel against Soulburner, and though I have my issues with how they handled Go in Season 2, which I went into in my previous post, it succeeds in every way a re-introductory duel should. It addresses the transition of his character between seasons, sets up his conflict for this season, introduces his new cards, adds character to Soulburner, and establishes a dynamic between the two. Their opposition is natural, and if anything, the season fails to capitalize on how well this duel set things up.

Aoi's re-introductory duel... is also against Soulburner. And their opposition... uh...

Look, I'll be frank, there is only one reason for Soulburner to duel Aoi, his third duel already in 10 episodes: they are fast-tracking him into main character slot #2. I talked about this in the Soulburner analysis. 

Aoi and Soulburner have no reason to be fighting, this match-up is completely artificial. They went "well Aoi needs to get a re-introductory duel because that's the Yugioh formula, and Soulburner needs more screentime, so let's shove them together," regardless of how it doesn't make narrative sense. How do they do that?

Blue Girl: We came to find the Ignis. SOL-- I mean, my brother can help you. Soulburner: You don't understand. The Lost Incident made us suffer for a long time. SOL Technologies was partly responsible for that. Entrust our future to them? Thanks, but we'll solve our own problems. Blue Girl: *frowning* In that case, those Ignis originally belonged to SOL Technologies. Give them back. Soulburner: What?

This is completely out of character for her. She knows that they're victims of the Lost Incident, she knows what they've been through, and they've just told her they're trying to save someone whose consciousness was stolen. She just said that her motivation is saving people, specifically to pay back the people who saved her. Guess who the only person who saved you was, Aoi? It wasn't your onii-san.

It would've made more sense for Ghost Girl to duel Soulburner. She's the one who was established to be a self-serving bounty hunter in Season 1. Oh, but if you gave Ghost Girl a re-introductory duel, it might give off the wrong impression that she's relevant?

This duel doesn't even add anything to Soulburner's character either, the way that Soulburner vs. Go did.

What could they have done if they were actually thinking about Aoi?

How about Aoi vs. Akira? Akira tells her that if she can beat him in a duel, he'll believe that she's strong enough to go into the restricted zone. Or they could do Aoi vs. Ghost Girl -- same thing, Ghost Girl tells Akira that if Aoi wins, it proves she's equally capable of going on this mission.

Either of these would check all the boxes for a re-introductory duel. It's a memorable matchup, it re-establishes the personalities and (IN-CHARACTER) relationships of these three, and it addresses the transition between seasons -- we left off from Aoi's devastating loss, and this duel would bridge her into an upwards character arc in Season 2.

Of course, if they did that, they would have to make an upwards character arc for Aoi.

These two episodes have succeeded in the exact opposite of what a re-introductory episode is supposed to do. It's a garbage fire of bad writing. They regress her character, and call it progress. She's out of character, in order to be unsympathetic. They don't set up an arc for Aoi this season, because they haven't thought of one. They introduce new cards that never come back. But none of it matters anyway, because Aoi isn't actually important! We'll just make up something new the next time we're contractually obligated to give her a few episodes (but not too many, god forbid!)

I guess there's one part of her character they make consistent, which is making her lose in the worst ways possible.

⇀ Blue Girl vs. Soulburner

You know how in my last Aoi post, I said that it's good when characters lose duels, and that "X should have won that duel" is a comment that often misunderstands how outcomes are about narrative purpose rather than deck matchups?

Forget everything I said. Aoi ABSOLUTELY should have won that duel holy shit. I just witnessed a goddamn crime.

So there is actually one more reason that Soulburner duels Aoi. It's that it's a good concept for a duel. Aoi should annihilate Soulburner. Go ahead with your 72 step Salamangreat combo I dare you. Go ahead and use Burning Draw I dare you. Everyone likes seeing how the underdog comes out of a pinch, and if I came out of the duel thinking, "Wow, I can't believe Soulburner pulled that off!" I could have forgiven it.

Ha ha... wow..... I can't believe Soulburner pulled that off......

I'm not usually that bothered by hyper specific made up anime cards, but what the fuck is that trap that negates effect damage under 300. Countering exactly 1) Skull Invitation 2) Ojama Trio 3) Every one of Aoi's cards. Yeah okay, fuck you Aoi.

And Aoi still should have won, if Soulburner didn't one-up Aoi's own Fusion Summon by Burning Draw YOLO topdecking a fucking Salamangreat Super Poly out of nowhere. Why??? Because the scripter couldn't think of a way out of the situation other than copying one of the strongest cards ever designed?? Fuck you Aoi.

Even Ghost Girl knows how robbed she was.

It's salt on the wound to cap off her "I'll get stronger speech" by having her lose a duel that was 99-1 in her favor. Soulburner deletes her life points in one attack, she screams and gets slammed into a cliff, and Soulburner stands over her and says, "Blue Girl, you're stronger than before."

Jesus, just look at that condescending framing.

Aoi doesn't show up again in a relevant capacity for 20 episodes, and doesn't have another duel for 30 -- that's a quarter of Vrains. Her last words as Soulburner stands over her are "You won because of the bond between a duelist and an AI?" before she passes out.

This, I suppose, is their weak attempt at introducing a plot for Aoi this season. It's... well... 

⇀ Aqua and Miyu

The Miyu backstory is lazy as hell.

I'm sorry to all the fans rooting for female characters and wlw ships, but this writing was unbelievably sloppy. Someone put "Aoi's childhood friend was a victim of the Lost Incident and that's how she gets the Water Ignis" into the show notes and then didn't think about it until it was time to write the episode.

Miyu is not a cardboard cutout. She's not cut from cardstock, both of those at least have structural integrity. Miyu has the character solidness of wet tissue. She's an NPC, a parody of a generic little girl. The only reason to care about her is if you buy into the cheap writing shortcut of damselling little girls, or you're a desperate lesbian. I'm sorry, lesbians.

They could have done anything to give Miyu an actual character, I'm not asking for a lot. Give her any kind of trait or interest -- maybe she loves the ocean and shows Aoi her collection of seashells, and she says they should go to the beach together one day but they never do. They could talk about idols, and maybe that's what inspires Aoi to later become one. They could talk about Duel Monsters, it's Yugioh for christsake. A playground duel would be adorable.

There's a million things they could have done that are more compelling than playing on the slide, but there's one that's so obvious it pains me.

The Blue Angel picture book. The one that Aoi said was her childhood treasure in the duel with Spectre, the one that motivated her to try and save him, a victim of the Lost Incident. The book that's an established part of her backstory, which made her take on the Blue Angel moniker. The book that's about a girl who is all alone until she makes friends and no longer has to cry blue tears.

Could it be more obvious? Have Miyu be the one who gave the book to Aoi. It's a backstory on a silver platter. If the writers cared about Aoi at all, if they didn't immediately forget every single thing about her the second they turn in the script for the contractually obligated Aoi episodes, they would know this. But they don't. Because even the Blue Angel picture book was clearly something they made up on the spot.

Imagine if Aoi's season 2 climax duel was vs. a controlled Miyu (à la Jin), the themes from the Spectre duel returned. Aoi questions if she really can save someone from the Lost Incident, or if it's just her own naivety, destined to be crushed over and over. But she breaks through, because this time it's her turn to save someone who's all alone. This is how you connect seasons 1 and 2, this is how you take a loss and turn it into a payoff. We can even get Spectre's perspective, he's there in the final fight.

But that's not what we get. Instead, they play on the slide, and then Miyu drops a ring down a drain, which I guess is what they think is a relatable cause of conflict for little girls. I can guarantee they would have come up with something more substantive if these were two male characters. And the pacing is just comically clunky. "Aoi-chan, look, it's my mother's ring! Isn't it pretty? Oh no, I dropped it! Wahhhhh!"

Aoi lies to Miyu's mom and says she's the one who dropped the ring, even though Miyu denies it vehemently, clearly crying and in great distress as her mother drags her away and never lets her see Aoi again.

This, we're told, is how Aoi "saved" Miyu.

Aqua: While she was imprisoned, you kept her strong, Aoi. No matter how many duels she lost, no matter how much pain she endured, even after her meals were reduced, she never broke and promised to escape. So she could see you again and apologize for that day.

.........APOLOGIZE FOR WHAT???

What the fuck kind of message is this supposed to be? Aqua is supposed to be the Ignis of TRUTH, why are she and Miyu glorifying Aoi's lie as some courageous, inspirational action, when clearly it did nothing but harm? I'm not crazy, am I? The obvious takeaway from this flashback is that even if you had good intentions lying to protect your friend, it caused miscommunication, distress, and led to their friendship breaking apart? Like, their lives would have been just fine if Aoi didn't lie, and Miyu learned a reasonable lesson about not being careless with other people's expensive objects?

This backstory is comically bad. Just imagine Miyu, going through kidnapping, starvation, and torture, sustained only by the thought that one day... she can tell the girl that she played on the slide with years ago... that she's so sorry... that her hand slipped when taking off a ring and it rolled into a drain 5 feet away.

The story would make more sense if it was me in the Lost Incident, and I was plagued by guilt over dumping Cheeto crumbs on Rachel from Pre-K, because at least I actually did something bad.

It's difficult to even articulate how much all these sloppy writing decisions compound on each other. Because they wasted Aoi's introductory episodes and didn't set up anything for her, she has no role in the story for 30 episodes. Because she was given nothing for 30 episodes, they have to shove an entire backstory for Aoi into one episode. Because they shoved the backstory into one episode, Miyu and Aoi's relationship with her are painfully rushed, generic, and flimsy. Because their relationship is so flimsy, this whole backstory, Aoi's motivation to fight, her entire season 2 plotline, is soulless garbage.

Aoi didn't remember Miyu until this episode. The writers didn't create Miyu until this episode. You cannot ask the audience to be invested in Aoi rescuing Miyu, when you don't even care enough to conceptualize her.

And this is the most damning conclusion of this post. The writers don't care about Miyu. And they don't care about Aoi. And they don't care if you care about them. You weren't meant to care about them.

Again, I'm not saying that the Vrains writers are bad writers, or they hate women. There are other factors to consider, like the specifics of gender relations in Japan, how Yugioh animes primarily exist to advertise trading cards to young boys, the fact that there has not been a single female writer on Yugioh since season 2 of GX. And obviously, Vrains had production issues, and every character suffered from flawed writing.

But my point is, Aoi suffered the most for it. 

⇀ Final Thoughts

There's a lot more that I could say about Aoi for the rest of the show. Like how she gets a magical girl transformation sequence, only to be irrelevant for 10 episodes again, and we have to wait that entire time to see her new deck. Then the duel, which really needed to be a two-episoder, is about Haru instead. The pointlessness of the Bohman duel. The pointlessness of Yusaku's "identity reveal" to Aoi. How they needed to have a third and fourth Akira manpain scene as Aoi is "taken away" from him, though I guess in that last one Aoi gets to have some girlpain too.

I did plan to talk about each of these duels, and more about how I would do an Aoi vs. Miyu conflict, but this post has gotten way out of hand already, and I've made the points I wanted to make.

I hope it was cathartic for everyone who was disappointed with Aoi, and perhaps gave language to people who were frustrated but unable to articulate why. I did some research into what other people have said about Aoi's character, such as this video by YugiohEverything, but I find that a lot of discourse in Yugioh is not very good at pinpointing why something works or doesn't work, and the actual skill of writing is oversimplified. This is especially true when it comes to Yugioh girls, and criticisms tend to fall back on losing duels or getting put in a coma, and while those can suck, they aren't the real problem.

In my last Aoi post I said "I'll just have to hope that they don't fumble whatever new thing they give her... but things tend to get bleaker for female Yugioh characters as the show goes on and whatever initial involvement they had in the story fizzles out," and this, I think, has been the real problem persistently for Yugioh girls. The writers are contractually obligated to come up with something when a series is first pitched, but when that period is up, or when concessions have to be made, the female characters are the first to be forgotten.

I just didn't think it would be this bad for Aoi.

Well. Expectations lowered.

---

First Aoi analysis

All Vrains season analysis

[emilylawsons]

Dare you to write 13, 32, or 20 if you have to tap-out, for canonverse Tessjoel >:3

I’m sorry this took so long! Sheesh this was from the first round of prompts. This got a lot longer and more angsty than I anticipated.

I went with 20. Hope you enjoy!

Kissing Prompts

…

When she wakes, she finds the other side of the bed empty. Empty, but still warm. The trickling of the lukewarm shower echoes from the bathroom, and for a moment, she considers stripping down and joining him. Instead, she lies there, staring up at the cracked ceiling, the sunlight streaming through the window highlighting the gossamer strands of cobwebs.

This morning feels eerily…calm. And not in a good way. While the world being unusually quiet would once be comforting, now it only spells trouble. What has FEDRA done to keep citizens of the QZ off the streets? Who have the Fireflies silenced?

Why is she questioning her resolve to go see Robert about that damn car battery today?

Before she can ponder too much, Joel is emerging from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. Tess pushes herself up onto her elbows, just watching him. Because she can.

As if this is the last time she’s going to see him like this.

He combs his fingers through his hair—she makes a note to give him a trim this week—and finally notices she’s awake. But he’s moody, she quickly realizes.

He offers her a clipped, “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

But she’s not going to let him get away that easily. Something in her feels compelled to him, to drink in every last second this day has to offer. So, she throws the covers off and pads behind him. She watches him put on that broken watch before he even begins rummaging for clothing. Soon, her hands are on his shoulders, digging into tense, tight muscles.

In the little mirror on their dresser, she can see him close his eyes and finally give in to relaxing. But she knows he won’t stay this way for long.

It’s his birthday.

It’s been twenty years since that day. Since the entire goddamn world changed.

Since he lost the only person she’s certain he’s ever felt any love for. At least in the last two decades.

Regardless of all the shit they’ve been through and done together. A place in his bed and at his table is all she can ask for. And some days it’s too much for either of them.

But she stays. Right here. Because she can’t imagine belonging anywhere else.

“You’re up early,” she finally speaks, still working out the knots in his shoulders and back.

“They’ve got me…” He pauses, clearing his throat. “They’ve got me on disposal duty.”

“I thought you were coming with me to rip Robert’s ass.”

“Like you need me.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why ask?”

Tess releases a heavy breath and ceases her massaging to rest a hand on his back. “Figured if things go south, you’d wanna do the honors and put the rat bastard down yourself.”

“Rather let you have the fun.”

“Not until we get what he promised.”

She backs away to let him dig through the dresser. He tosses her one of his short-sleeved button downs and the rest of an outfit he expects she’ll wear—as if that’s hard when they share and they’ve both given up on having any strong opinion on such mundane shit as clothing.

She’s removed the t-shirt and sweats she slept in and has only managed to get on her bra and underwear when Joel stops, suddenly. Then he turns and stares at her, something deep, boring into her.

“What?” It’s her turn to ask.

“Nothin’” He feigns stoicism, tries to keep that poker face she’s become so acquainted with.

She sees through it but doesn’t call him out. Instead, she waits. Patiently.

He gets his jeans on, but ends up standing stock still, staring at the t-shirt in his hands. He won’t ask, but she knows what he wants. What he needs.

So she stands behind him again and slips her arms beneath his, wrapping around his torso. Her head rests against the back of his neck, and she feels him melt into her touch again. To her shock, he places a hand over one of hers where it rests over his heart.

And they stay like that for…she doesn’t know.

All she knows is, before she realizes what he’s doing, he turns in her arms and pulls her in. His touch is firm but gentle, and when their lips meet, she swears he’s never kissed her like this before.

In twenty years, among a myriad of passionate encounters, she’s never felt him…mean it. Or rather she’s never felt him mean it without a certain level of possessiveness they’ve both fallen prey to. He isn’t angry with her. He isn’t trying to prove anything to her or get something from her. She hasn’t goaded him or challenged him.

He just…wants to kiss her. He needs to kiss her. Just because.

And she melts right into him.

For what feels like an eternity, she drinks him in, tastes the whisky he’s already dipped into this morning along with the cheap toothpaste he used. His skin is warm to her touch, and the hands he sinks into her hair find their way to that sensitive place on the back of her neck. She shivers and kisses him harder.

But neither tries to progress. Where a kiss like this would normally have them both stark naked again, he hasn’t so much as touched the clasp of her bra. And she isn’t trying to shove his jeans down around his ankles.

All there is, is her lips on his. Her fingers tracing the muscles of his back or raking through his hair.

When they finally part for air, she can bring herself to open her eyes. She’s afraid if she does, he’ll disappear, that this kiss was but a figment of her imagination.

Her forehead rests upon his then, their lips millimeters apart. It’s her own sharp intake of a breath she didn’t know she was holding that jolts her back to reality.

And out of each other’s arms.

When she opens her eyes, he’s gone, fixed upon dressing himself. And she lets him go, even as a troubling sadness that she can’t explain settles in her chest. A sadness she quickly tampers down because they have too much to do it they’re gonna get out of here to check on Tommy.

She’s got a truck battery to extort.

[shinwoonoh]

it’s ep 4 of the eighth sense and i still don’t believe jaewon is in therapy. 

i asked myself why? why, when it’s getting quite obvious that jaewon is in therapy, from the woman accusing him of just being here for the drugs and to jaewon stating his parents forced him to come here 10 years ago. he sits there on a couch for four as a silhouette. the water is clear and glowing behind him. she essentially tells him to spit it out for god’s sake, says he has depression, and jaewon tells her i’m getting sick of myself wearing a mask when I’m dealing with others.

(or a deeply personal piece about my experiences with being asian and the idea of therapy, all prompted by the privilege of getting to experience the eighth sense) 

[tw: depression, suicide ideation, ptsd]

i’m first generation chinese canadian and queer. my sister has depression, had thoughts of suicide, all while i myself was being emotionally and verbally abused at work. it’s been 5 years but when i drive by a white toyota 4runner (because that’s the car they drove), i’m still gripped with fear. i can only stare straight ahead hoping to god it’s not them it’s not them it’s not. i want to drive the other way onto oncoming traffic 

i told my mom then, that my sister needs help - a doctor, therapy, - call the goddamn pastor from church - anything. 

she told me, what use is therapy going to do?

my mom was a registered nurse. when i was a kid, she used to bring me with her on her night shifts and i’d eat tuna croissant sandwiches with the seniors in front of the biggest television box i’ve ever seen in my life. cross legged on the floor because the po po’s and gong gong’s took all the chairs. she told me if old white ladies ask for kleenex and you give them toilet paper, they’ll be mad. it’s different here. 

so it’s ep 4 of the eighth sense and i don’t believe therapy exists in the minds of asian people and culture

i took a new job. vowed not to make friends at work. clock in clock out. gave limited info when coworkers asked questions. smiled and giggled. i observed and mimicked behaviour that would let me fit in. i learned how to hug someone when they were upset (tight and long, soothe their backs with open palms) even though i didn’t want to hug anyone, let alone have anyone touch me anywhere that was soft

i was masking. 

been masking. for a long time.

i fit in so well, everyone likes me. i’ve been told i’m the favourite by pretty much everyone. hell, i’ve had coworkers fighting over me, told i can do and say no wrong. i’m not trying to brag. i hate being the centre of attention. i steer conversation immediately to the other person so i don’t have to talk about myself too much. just enough to seem normal, to look human - to be liked. 

(even as i’m writing this, there are too many words and paragraphs about me, why would anyone read this? y’all are here for the eighth sense but i’m going on like a celebrity writing their autobiography about their tragic childhood and how they were able to rise above - so, okay, i should start sprinkling in some actual t8s content analysis, for god’s sake)

jaewon says i want to free myself from human relationships

what happened to jaewon? we don’t know entirely yet. but everybody loves jaewon. the teacher will give him a good mark because he likes jaewon. everybody in class wants him to be their project partner and everybody’s missed him since he’s been away in the army please hang out with us jaewon let’s go drinking jaewon you better show up jaewon or it would be a shame, jaewon you are so likeable loveable cool lucky don’t worry about jaewon he’s got everything going on for him

then he meets jihyun and i think jaewon has a hard time finding the right mask to put on to deal with the freshman. and he slips a lot. when he starts to talk about his brother, after eunji shows up because of taehyung’s scheming, when jihyun repeatedly corrects him that it’s jaewon that wants to be friends - not him. and finally when he kisses jihyun

he’s having such a hard time and he slips up so bad, that the next safest option is to mask right back up

oh jaewon was drunk he has a habit of kissing and yeah he’ll join them after he helps yoon won wrap things up he’s the new best friend so let’s have a meal together with jihyun and his roommate next time

3 years into my new job, someone returns to the company and we become friends, on a soulmate level. i think i was in love with her - i definitely had a crush on her. but anyways, somehow i see her and i was suddenly all sorts of things because of her. i start to look forward to work. i add my coworkers on facebook and ig. we go to parties with our bosses and a few of us go on a couple of road trips even though the pandemic is blazing in the background  

she saw me, even when i didn’t want to be seen. i remember getting a particularly anxiety-inducing email from my previous job. i’m in the staff room sitting quietly, staring at my feet. i try to breathe. 

i’m alone for the whole of it but i emerge from the room again. ready to leave for the day and somehow, my friend sees me. asks me what’s wrong?

how did she know? i didn’t cry. i looked in the mirror before i came out. i didn’t even say anything to her. but i tell her, quietly at first and then easily and then finally with so much - so. much. honesty.

she tells me i get it. of course you feel that way. why wouldn’t you feel that way? it’s completely understandable. i know you. 

we hug. it’s one of the best hugs i’ve ever received. 

she leaves for another job. i try to go on, all open and soft parts exposed. but little by little, i go back into my shell. 

why would i want to show the entirety of myself? all the bits of me are all the ways i can embarrass myself, expose myself, show myself to people who will take what i show and twist and move it all in a way that becomes unrecognizable and uncontrollable

so i mask

but it’s goddamn tiring and exhausting. jaewon is exhausted. you see it in his eyes as he stares off out into nowhere when jihyun tells him his name. when they’re sitting in the train, and he’s smiling at jihyun at first and then jihyun’s smile falls open, and we see jaewon’s expression: there’s a downward movement to his lips. it’s so miniscule. maybe i’m imagining it

but that’s the moment i think jihyun sees when he tells aeri he ran into jaewon sunbae yesterday, and he didn’t look okay.

what was i talking about? oh yes, therapy and being asian and how disconnected that is to me. nobody asian goes to therapy. i can hear all the aunties and my popo saying sometimes doctors are wrong and medicine isn’t going to help. my grandma didn’t believe my grandpa had dementia and alzheimer’s even to the last minute of his death and past it. she said he was annoying and stupid when he forgot where he put his ring or when he would leave the stove on until a hole burnt through the pot.

in the farewell, a story about a chinese family that lied to their aging matriarch that she didn’t have terminal lung cancer. all of them flew back to china for a rushed and premature marriage, used as an excuse to go tearily say goodbye to their soon-to-be dead grandma/mom/mother in law, etc. the juxtaposition of them celebrating a happy marriage while crying on stage to her about her for her as she claps with happiness and pride, but also with confusion, is funny. they never tell her. and she miraculously is cured of cancer. it’s like she never had it. they lied to her because they wanted her to be happy. be happy so she wouldn’t die. 

so what good will medicine, let alone, therapy do? just be happy. easy, right?

i hope jaewon continues to open up. i hope he finds that soulmate of his, maybe in jihyun, maybe in himself. i know opening up and unmasking is scary. but also masking is so uncomfortable that i want to crawl out of my skin. it’s alienating and lonely. 

even writing all of this out, i still don’t think jaewon is in actual therapy. i’ve never seen it personally in asian media. so i think it’s so sad that when i’m being given a beautiful example of a korean person in korea going to therapy or whatever type of appointment relationship agreement this is where jaewon gets asked what’s bothering him and he answers truthfully and almost painlessly. like he’s been doing this for 10 years. 

and i don’t believe it. it’s so fucked up that i don’t believe it. i keep thinking when will the rug be pulled out from under me? surely there’s no such thing as an asian person going to therapy. fuck, evelyn travelled through the multiverse and there’s not one of her in therapy 

but it’s right there in front of my own eyes: jaewon getting counselled and advised, she has a notebook, an aquarium to look at when you’re nervous, big round metal balls to stare right back at you when you need a distraction and it’s been 10 years. i watched it all with the same eyes that saw my parents fight and punch holes in the wall before going to couple retreats at church and coming back stronger than ever. the last time i saw them fight, i was in high school. even as my sister finally spoke to her doctor and she saw a therapist, then a psychiatrist and now she’s on medication and she’s doing better. i’m not afraid she’s going to hurt herself anymore. my soulmate sees a counsellor and messages me randomly and it’s so eerily weird when she knows i’m struggling even when we’re a mountain apart

it’s all in front of me. but i don't believe it. 

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Hewo again! I love the way you write Bo! Could I have some angst with him like s/o is really sick/bad fever and Bo is super worried? Because of how sick s/o is, they sleep a lot and wakes up once or twice for medication and water. One day, s/o doesn’t wake up and sleeps all day, and it scares Bo half to death. He stays by their bedside, holding their hand, maybe cuddle, refusing to sleep/eat for a while until s/o wakes up, or until Lester takes his place for Bo to work and take care of himself. When Bo is alone in the garage, he ends up getting upset and throws/breaks things— he’s angry that s/o won’t wake up but he’s more angry that he didn’t take care of them when he first noticed s/o getting sick a couple days before all of this.

Yes! I’m gonna do a happy ending though cause yeah :3 but angsty too obviously

In Sickness and in Health: Bo Sinclair x sick!reader

Masterlist

A/N: sorry it’s short I’m still not used to writing angst, was happy I got this request so I could practice!

Warnings: Angst, Bo freak out,

You’d been in bed for days, you didn’t do much. Ate soup, went pee, slept. You showered once in the last few days, and your fever didn’t go down a bit. You’d told Bo you easily got sick and took a lot more time to recover unlike other people. This was due to your low immune system.

Of course Bo didn’t have a clear understanding of your situation until now. He’d been at your side to help with everything. If he couldn’t be there for some reason, Lester was there.

Bo lays next to your sleeping form. He sighs and buries his face into your neck and cuddles into you. Your breathing is soft. You didn’t wake up at the same time you usually did, Bo tried to carefully wake you but he couldn’t go any farther than a nudge, barely even raised his voice. He was worried but you looked peaceful. Your soft breathing pulls him into a sleep.

-

Bo wakes hours later, you still haven’t moved from your spot and Bo’s stomach drops a bit. It’s 6 pm, you haven’t gotten up to even pee yet. He pushes you slightly, but all you do is mumble and curl up. He frowns and gets up to make soup for you.

-

It’s been two days. You haven’t gotten up but your fever did break.

Bo’s been in the shop distracting himself while Lester watches over you. He fumbled with a screw driver and while trying to catch it Bo smacks his hand onto the engine of the car.

“FUCK!” He backs up and slams the hood of the car shut. He growls pushes his tool box to the floor. “Goddamnit. I’m so fucking stupid! Should’ve been better to you. You’re sick and I can’t fucking do this! Can’t live without you! I want you to feel better! I haven’t been able to function or anything. What the hell did you do to me?!” He takes the screw driver and throws it against the window, it shatters and Bo’s knees buckle.

“God, why am I attached to you? I can’t do shit without you here. Without you I’m fucking nothing I’m a goddamn mess. It’s been almost a week. I finally do some shit on my own and I can’t. I can’t go back to the way things were. I need you to get fucking better or I’m gonna lose it.” Bo mumbles. A tear falls down his face, his breath shakes, angrily he rubs his eyes causing stars to cross them. He slams his fist into the ground and lays there.

-

Your eyes flutter open, you’re groggy but are starting to feel better. “Bo?” You run your eyes to get the boogers out. He’s not there. You shrug and get yourself up from bed. You pee and walk downstairs to get some food. You grab crackers and soup and start to eat quickly.

It’s hours before Bo is back home. You took another shower and laid back down. Decided to turn on the radio to soft music and play it.

Bo walks upstairs and comes across you laying down, eyes open, wide open. Not even tired. He jumps into bed and squeezes you. You hack trying to cover your face.

“You’re awake! Holy shit!” Bo kisses you all over and you furrow your brows and laugh.

“Yeah, I told you what happens when I get sick silly. Need to rest for awhile.”

Bo looks at you and frowns.

“I-I know but you’ve been sick for a week and it worried me. A lot. You didn’t wake up for two days and it scared the hell outta me… I didn’t think you’d ever wake up.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “Oh hun, I’ll always end up waking back up. For you okay?”

“Okay…”

You cuddle into Bo and hum.

“God I’m so happy I can finally sweat this shit out. I hate being so sick.”

“I hate you being sick too.”

[itsclydebitches]

Your post about Cinder's murder of her abusers being framed explicitly as a bad thing that leads to her further spiraling was really interesting but it makes me wonder about Blake and Yang killing Adam. It's another instance of a victim killing their abuser but its treated very differently by the show. I think that's possibly where the fandom's... odd reaction to Cinder comes from.

While writing I was absolutely thinking about them as an example of how RWBY has fumbled its "killing is bad" take while simultaneously working to uphold it elsewhere in the story. To be clear, I have no issue with the actual act of Blake and Yang killing in self-defense. Putting aside the question of Adam's wasted potential and looking solely at whether it's justifiable for the heroes to kill in order to defend themselves/others, I come down on a very hard "Yes." And in Adam's case, I do believe the situation was self-defense: Adam had helped attack Beacon, grievously injured Yang, stabbed Blake, stalked them for months, and consistently refused to take the outs that they were offering him. At a certain point the hero's moral code is allowed to bend and for the story to go, "There are exceptions to every rule. This was one of them."

So our heroes ditching their No Killing Allowed stance in this kind of context is something I'm totally okay with. Where I think RWBY absolutely face-planted in regards to execution is with what came afterward. It's fine if the heroes have to kill. It's not fine for them to act like that's a totally chill, everyday action that they don't need to think twice about. The fact that RWBY's ethical stance leans so hard into Talking It Out and Making Friends With Your Enemies is the precise reason why killing someone should be a goddamn ARC of emotional struggle and growth for them. That's a sledgehammer of a choice careening into their formerly picture-perfect, ethical lives. Where's the intense guilt followed by reassurance and reminders that they did what they had to do to survive? Where's the fury that Adam put them into a situation where they needed to make that choice in the first place? Where's the hesitance in the others who didn't see the fight and are shocked, even appalled, that their teammates took a life? Where are the conversations about how they were trained to fight souless monsters, but are now forced to use their weapons on people, even former friends? Where's the horror that this is just the first step and that their morals can only bend further as this war continues? Where's the mere acknowledgement that they did something traumatic and now need to recover from it, reevaluating who they are in the face of that decision? Blake and Yang mention it once in passing right before they throw more morals out the window to blindly trust Robyn. Yeah, that's not nearly enough. RWBY gave us a protagonist who insists on reaching a hand out to everyone (or at least she once did). RWBY gave us villains who are explicitly villainous because they choose to take lives. RWBY had the girl who lost her arm to Adam offer him the chance to leave in peace... and then put her in a situation where she felt the need to kill him instead.

And then the show did nothing with any of that.

The problem isn't that the girls killed someone, the problem is that they killed someone and then shrugged that action off, like that choice didn't test the very heart of RWBY's emotional core. And then the story went sooooo much further, having the heroes cruelly reject their allies, fight former friends without a care, insist on risking the lives of everyone while they sat safe on the sidelines, introduced an unnecessary and unpersuasive mercy kill purely for shock value... RWBY has tossed its moral code into the dumpster when it comes to the heroes, while still applying that same framework to the villains. Cinder is evil because she chooses to kill people instead of finding other ways to solve her problems. Cool, that makes total sense as a definition for "villain." Yet the characters chose to kill someone as a means of solving a problem, and our primary hero is willfully risking so many lives, and the entirety of their 'Trust Love' approach has become a sham, and another character is slitting a beloved, fan-favorite's throat because he "had" too, so that's... really complicated? Shouldn't the show unpack why the heroes get to follow a totally different moral code from everyone else now? Why are they allowed to do all the Bad Things without consequence or emotional struggle, but antagonists/villains remain antagonists/villains for those very same reasons?

It's because the girls are cute and make hopeful speeches and you already like them, RWBY says. Don't worry about it. They're still heroes because we say they are, end of discussion. One of the reasons why I personally side-eye the fandom brushing aside Cinder's killings is because the show is doing that for the heroes when they shouldn't, not based on literally everything else that makes RWBY, RWBY. The answer here is not to go, "If Blake and Yang can be #girlbosses for killing someone then I think Cinder should be a #girlboss too, as a treat," it's to acknowledge that RWBY swerved hard into a new, messy, contradictory ethics system that's unraveling every compelling theme and message the show once had.

Really though, this would all be easier to deal with if RWBY had done a full 180 and we could just run with the new framework, no matter how much it messes with the Volumes that came before it. The reality though is that RWBY, and the fandom to a more intense degree, are fully embracing the nuances and sympathies of killing... but only for the characters they personally like. Cinder murders three people? You're allowed to do that when you're abused. Emerald orchestrated Penny's death and caused countless other deaths in the Battle of Beacon and has helped Salem bring destruction to all of Remnant? It doesn't matter if she's sad about it! And Ruby can do whatever she wants in the name of saving the world!! Lies and secrets and dubious ethical choices are necessary now.

Okay! Those are the new standards? Good to know. So just to clarify: it would have been fine if, say, Ironwood had just apologized for the people he killed? They'd have all moved on with him as a group bestie again? I mean, if Emerald and Iilia can do it... And we're going to unpack how Ozpin's generations of trauma have informed his dubious actions and mistakes, right? If Cinder killing that trio is justifiable after a few years of abuse, surely over a thousand years of unimaginable horrors is enough to earn a man at least a handful of murdered enemies without reproach. Of course, that's not even getting into Salem's own, literal torture at the hands of the Gods, but we don't need to go down that road just yet. Instead, just reassure me that we'll let others' lies and secrets slide because the girls got a free pass on that, yeah? Or how about we unpack why Adam turned to killing after a lifetime of systemic racism and having a corrupt logo branded on his face? And fans definitely aren't going to despise Oscar for just wanting his life back, right? I mean, if we can justify these characters murdering due to trauma and their age, surely we can excuse an untrained kid being a little annoying on occasion because a sorcerer ghost unintentionally hijacked his life, right? Right?

[our-hyperace-experience]

i've had nowhere to talk about this, but this is the closest i can find. my experience is pretty much entirely unique so i don't think anybody can relate to it, but i need it off my chest.

hi, im a hypersexual aromantic-asexual. and an abuser.

i fucked up my last partner bad with my hypersexuality. and they exposed me for it. my mental health took a shit ton of hits during that whole time and just. any romantic or sexual attraction i felt went away completely. i've heard of people getting their romantic/sexual attraction taken away due to trauma, but i'm not sure if i'm a valid aroace person because. mine went away because of the trauma i caused other people. not the trauma put onto me.

i was doing really good. really good for a while. I didn't feel anything. no hypersexuality, no attraction. then i started talking to my victim again. we talked because of this whole big shitstorm event, and they admitted they missed us so much. It's been months and i know i've completely changed as a person, but i still did what i did to them. all that gross sex talk with them. the sexting they didn't want. my hypersexuality ruined them and it tears me up inside every goddamn day. yet they said they needed me.

and i can feel my hypersexuality and attractions coming back to them, and only them, and i'm screaming at myself that this is a "no". that i shouldn't do this. but they need me. it's been months. and they said how lonely they were without me. and every time, every time i think something sexual, it's always about them, and i'm disgusted. it can't be anybody else but them and i don't know what to do.

i want to stay ace. i want to stay aro. i want to make sure i never hurt anyone again. im 16. i shouldn't be feeling like this.

Hi, reading this, I honestly feel for you and your victim, here's what I'll say.

It's clear you are remorseful of your actions and regret for what you had do, acknowledging the harm you caused and taking responsibility is a very important step with self-growth and healing.

This also means that all the urges and desires you feel are most likely against your actual beliefs.

although, I don't know the specifics of what happened between the both of you and your victim. I will say, the victim claiming they miss you and that they feel lonely without you could be an effect from the past abuse.

What I would advise is set firm boundaries between you two, like, ex. avoid sexual topics. If you two's interactions might be triggering the sexual urges, I think writing down some possible boundaries that can reduce those might help.

If it's not enough, I'd also consider cutting ties with the victim, I know it's hard to do that considering the victim's feelings, but staying with someone that had deeply ruined them can also be unhealthy for the both of you.

Especially since you have been doing better during the time without them, and seeing how the urges came back when you started talking to them again could cause problems. If you think the urges are too much, don't be afraid to walk away from the relationship, even if it might sting, it's better to sting now than to damage later.

Another quick thing I wanted to add are healthy outlets. Typically, hypersexual desires and urges can be reduced when you have positive distracts, like exercise, hobbies or doing new activities.

Journaling your thoughts and emotions downs also helps out, it can make you process your emotions and understand the patterns of your behavior, this might help with self-navigation.

Overall, thats my advice, I tried avoiding telling you to get professional help, as many people might not have access to that. You are really brave for speaking out, even if its just to a tumblr blog. I'll keep this post untagged for you out of respect, I hope after this everything gets better, anon 🫂🤎

[youngbuckisms]

A little quirky amusement park date between local skelly twink Darby and resident scumbag going good boi MJF

Darby Allin x MJF on a date; drabble

Word count: 742

Warnings: none!

Notes: I used to write this ship quite a bit awhile back, so I’ve missed these two! Enjoy!

Maxwell wasn’t a big fan of a lot of things his boyfriend was into. It wasn’t a surprise, either. Their personalities clashed all the time, but it was something they both loved about one another. Always being introduced to new things, constantly showing one another things they knew they wouldn’t like. Sometimes it was fun, other times it annoyed Maxwell or bored Darby.

For once, however, Maxwell would be the one to plan something that wasn’t a fancy dinner out. Instead, he took Darby to an amusement park, which was right up the daredevil’s alley. He was so excited that it made the scumbag almost forget where he was, that was until he stepped into something that resembled fair food on the ground and suddenly he wanted to just leave. But this wasn’t about him, it was about Darby.

So, here he is, sitting outside the exit of a rollercoaster with a cheap, stuffed tiger tucked under his arm that he had won for Darby earlier, as he scrolled through his phone. He didn’t do rollercoasters, but he would wait in the lines and by the exits for Darby to be done. His boyfriend would return to him, arm tossed around his shoulders as he smiled like an idiot.

“That was awesome! You should seriously do the next one, Max!” Darby encouraged as the two began to walk once more to find yet another coaster of death — as Maxwell called them.

“I think I’ll pass, babe.” Darby rolled his eyes at that, though the smile still remained. He didn’t mind as long as Maxwell was here with him, after all. It wasn’t often at all that his boyfriend would take him to dates like this.

The only other time it wasn’t a fancy restaurant was a skatepark where Darby actually managed to get Maxwell on a skateboard for a few minutes. Whenever Maxwell stepped out of his comfort zone, that’s when Darby cherished these moments.

“How about you ride just one coaster with me, no loops or super big drops, and we can go get dinner tomorrow night at that place you like?” Darby offered, stopping the two of them by standing in front of Maxwell to interrupt his steps.

“You mean the one that you hate because you have to get all dressed up in a suit, which by the way, you always look so goddamn good in?” A smirk playing at Maxwell’s lips as he speaks and Darby just knows he’s almost convinced. He just needs a little more push.

“That’s the one. I’ll even wear that red one that you love so much.” And Maxwell is making a small show of acting like his knees buckled slightly at the thought, head tilted back slightly with a dramatic little groan — acting as though the very thought of Darby in that deep red suit was enough to bring him to his knees. And while the thought doesn’t bring him to his knees, the sight certainly does.

“Alright fine. One ride and after that, no more.” Maxwell spoke firmly, making sure it was clear that it would be one coaster and no more. But part of him wanted to just let Darby drag him to every ride after seeing how wide his smile got upon taking the offer.

However, that thought was quickly tossed aside after the ride was over. His head spun, his stomach churned, and he felt like he was about to puke with every step they took upon exiting the ride. But Darby seemed fine. In fact, he was hopping around, exclaiming how cool it was and how they should go again.

“You don’t look so good.” Darby commented in an amused tone, looking over at his boyfriend who looked at thought he was on the verge of losing his lunch.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Hey, I’ll win you another one of those stuffed animals if we can go ahead and get out of here.” The smaller man laughed softly at the offer, slipping an arm around Maxwell’s waist to guide him to the nearest mini game.

“Sounds like a plan.”

And as Maxwell would waste 20 bucks trying to win a stuffed penguin for his boyfriend, he would remind himself to never go to another amusement park again, no matter how cute an excited Darby was to see.

[tokuteasings]

Dating Captain Marvelous

TOOK FIFTY YEARS FOR ME TO WRITE BUT HERE WE ARE WARNINGS: i havent watched gokaiger in 35 years but I did my best. Im so sorry if this sucks

Marvey, first and foremost, is simply proud to have you by his side. This means PDA is not sparse but not common either. It’s this healthy balance because sometimes you two need your own space to breathe in. This sometimes means sitting in silence at a table while doing something separate from one another and perhaps sitting across each other. Marvey is comfy with silence though sometimes he will glance over to see what you’re doing. He’s curious more often than not but sometimes he does it to get a glimpse of you and marvel to himself how lucky he is to have you in his life. Other than that, Marvelous isn’t really a hand holder but a brief cheek pecker and a “arm wrapped around the waist of my partner” and a “hand on the small of my partner’s back” sort of person. He shows public affection in different ways, sometimes verbal little whispers that only you notice or sometimes slip past you…or straight up pinches your ass. JUst to be a lil shit-

In private, Marvelous is a bit more affectionate. As said before, he’s comfy with silence and simply existing with you but the thing he loves doing the most are back hugs. It’s…very vulnerable of him to do so. Obviously, because anyone can just backstab him and you need to keep your back protected. It takes a while for him to get used to you hugging him from behind, he instantly enters “fight or flight” mode and there is a possibility he may grab something near him as a weapon if not use his own. But as you two slowly work through this relationship, he tends to recognize the sound of your footsteps, the change in the air, the sound of your breathing and instantly relaxes. Your weight against his back is no longer a blade digging into his most vital self. It’s…a net, a comfort he can fall into. So when he hugs your back, Marvelous is kind of trying to do the same to you. To give you the same sensation of something to fall back on…to remind you that you are loved - because that’s what your touch does to him. 

Cocky as ever, Marvey desires stimulation in any sort of situation. He has adrenaline highs and so dates are similarly thrilling as hell. He doesn’t mind slower stuff as he has calmed down a bit but Marvelous prefers dates that get him all excited. It’s almost like a kid in a candy store. Amusement parks are a great one because he adores playing the games and winning you things. He tends to show off to you however he can! He wins you like every single fucking prize he can get, gets on all of the fucking most dangerous ass rides and have the fucking time of his god damn life. He cannot sit still, he has to move. Dates will always be unpredictable as he is, but always involve food somehow. Whether it’s exploring a new city before trying its food, or just going out to hike in the wilderness. 

Since Marvey also loves eating, another date he tends to enjoy are new restaurants that pique his interests. Especially if it’s some sort of whack new thing to try or hella spicy foods. He loves spicy foods, it tingles his tongue and honestly it’s like crack to him. But if you happen to cook for him, Marvelous is over the fucking moon. He can clear away dishes like it’s nothing but your food makes him the most happy man you have ever seen within the fucking universe. He eats it all super quickly that you need to fucking make like 5 different meal portions for him at once. But he has this happiest fucking smile to his face whenever he eats your cooking that it’s all worth it in the end. 

The entire goddamn ship….ships it. But nonetheless, the group are suuuper happy to have you aboard their ship because Marvelous seems to glow whenever you’re around. He’s charismatic, yes, but their captain seems to be…perhaps happier, of course. But there’s this sort of pure elation he has - this shine in his eyes that never leaves, it’s like a treasure of the greatest kind - to him that no one can put their finger on. Ahim and Gai know it’s Marvelous being bitten by the love bug and the others just smile to themselves and nod. Joe is not jealous but he’s hiding this smirk behind a book or in general because…he’s just happy that Marvelous has found someone to love. He deserves it, honestly. 

Marvelous isn’t one for nicknames per say, but he adores calling you his “treasure” and it’s because you are!!! It’s this reverent and dreamy sort of nickname that pretty much encapsulates everything you are to him. It’s reserved for these quiet moments reserved for just the two of you and no one else. He will probably whisper this into your ear with this grin to his lips that is just so full of pride and love for you that it’s shimmering and shining and utterly blinding. He does like being called “Captain” and all but tends to snort, scoff, and shrug off any nicknames you try to give him instead. Though inwardly, he tends to smirk and smile to himself, happy that you called him those and sometimes there are lil red blooming upon his ears…

Marriage isn’t in the mind of Marvelous in general as he cannot stand in one place half of the time. But…if he does get married, Marvelous would want to take on your last name - or a surname that you two decided on together. There is a reason why he doesn’t have much of a surname and since he does love you, he would like to take on yours. If you decide on a surname to share together, he’s also just as happy. It’s something the two of you will have together, unique to yourselves and it’s something you two will remember for all of time.

Ohhh Marvelous is protective of you to almost a fault. He trusts his crew around you but he won’t lie and say he won’t become a liiiil jealous whenever they get too close to you. The crew know not to fuck with their captain and sometimes it’s kind of fun to tease your boyfriend whenever he does get a lil jelly. He trusts you the most though, and knows that you won’t cheat on him or anything. But when he does get protective of you is when you’re hurt or someone wrongs you. He does this thing where he is just barely holding back fiery rage (sometimes Joe or Luka has to place their hand on his shoulder to cause him to see sense or you need to hold his quivering hand) and is deadly silent before hissing out “Who hurt you?” he’s something to see him like this. BUt in battle he trusts you to take care of yourself, it doesn’t mean he isn’t watching you out of the corner of his eye however. 

Patching him up is a vulnerable sort of situation for the two of you. It’s this stark silence between the two of you and sometimes you two berate each other. “How could you jump in front of me and take the hit? You’re an idiot.” “But I’m your idiot.” and there’s a scoff and a smirk shared but it’s an intimate moment. No matter if it’s the end of one of your many, many, sparring sessions or the end of a fight you two had with an opposing force. It’s a moment to heal and to spend time with each other. He’s painstakingly gentle whenever he patches you up, not pressing kisses from his lips on to your wounds but kisses from the tips of his fingers on to them. May they heal faster, may you recover quicker, may you stay by his side always…

Loving Marvelous is like loving the waves of a ravenous ocean and you enjoy it. The ups and downs and unpredictable nature that sways this way and that. Loving Marvelous is an adventure from the skies of the universe. It’s impossible to figure out what you two are going to do next or when to do it. Most of all, you two are the definition of ride or die. Whatever you are going to do, Marvelous is not too far behind you - either trying to ensure you’re safe or joining you in your antics and vice versa. You two keep each other in check but also are each other’s best hype people. It’s a strange little relationship that was once purely platonic and the two of you were nervous to cross that line. It was comfortable and there was no need to cross it until one of you couldn’t handle it anymore and just…slammed your lips together.