#Take responsibility for the fact YOU came to MY post and stop acting like I'm the one in the wrong for standing my ground

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

Dude *you* have me blocked, why are you STILL commenting? 😂😂 cool it down or I'm taking that as an invitation to post your comments

[claramelooo]

YeY, my readers! Another chapter to brighten up your lonely nights.

I'm thinking about posting a chapter every day while I'm on vacation, but don't hunt me down if I'm late with a chapter LOL

Enjoy it! <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem reader

Summary: Your relationship with Wanda deepens more and more after the kiss.

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 - Predator | Part 2 - The Prey | Part 3 - On your Knees | Part 4 - The Spider

VELVET CHAINS

The Lamb

Mornings began to take on a new rhythm. Your phone buzzed with punctual messages, always at the same time, as the sunlight painted the sky a soft orange.

"Good morning, my darling. I hope you slept well. I'm thinking of you."

You read the message with your heart pounding as if it were the very first time. Each word brought an involuntary smile to your lips, and your response was swift: a shy emoji, a short phrase. Wanda always replied quickly, her tone steady and composed, subtly steering the conversation with a calm confidence that was nearly impossible to disrupt.

The days passed like a carefully choreographed dance. In the library, stolen moments were brief enough to go unnoticed by others yet intense enough to set your body ablaze and your heart racing.

You were arranging books in the history section when you sensed her presence before even seeing her. That familiar, subtle perfume—already uniquely tied to Wanda in your mind—reached you before her voice.

"Need help with that?"

Her tone was casual, but when you turned around, her eyes gleamed with something deeper. Without waiting for your reply, she stepped closer, taking one of the books from your hands. Her fingers brushed against yours, and for a fleeting moment, time seemed to stop.

"Sure," you replied nervously, feeling your face heat under her intense gaze.

She was so close that her body heat seemed to wrap around you like an invisible blanket. As she examined the book she’d taken from you, her head tilted slightly, almost absentmindedly. You couldn't help but notice how every movement she made seemed deliberate, as though even the act of flipping through pages carried an unspoken intent.

"History section, huh?" she commented with a small smile, her fingers lightly grazing the pages. "I've always found it fascinating how some things never change, no matter how much time passes."

You swallowed hard. "Well… I guess some stories are timeless."

"I agree," she said, lifting her gaze to meet yours. "Like us."

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. It was incredible how easily she left you speechless with a simple comment. Before you could recover, Wanda leaned slightly, placing the book back on the shelf. The gesture seemed casual, but her proximity sent your heart into overdrive.

"You know," she said with playful mischief, "there’s a library rule against inappropriate behavior."

"I… didn’t know that," you stammered, trying to ignore the fact that her body was almost touching yours.

"Oh, there is," she confirmed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she leaned closer. "Something about not kissing anyone between the shelves."

You blinked, startled. "I don’t think that’s in the rules…"

"It should be," she murmured, her voice low and husky, "because it makes me want to break them."

Before you could react, she stepped back with a triumphant smile, holding another book she seemed to have chosen at random. "I’ll take this one," she said, as if the charged tension between you didn’t exist.

Then, just as she was about to walk away completely, Wanda leaned in again, this time whispering near your ear, "That short skirt of yours is driving me crazy."

You froze, heat flooding your body as she walked away, her soft laughter echoing between the shelves. Her words lingered in your mind, your body reacting even before you could fully process them. A shiver ran down your spine, and your skin seemed to burn under the weight of her suggestion.

When you finally managed to turn to look at her, she was already a few steps away, pretending to peruse another book. But the sly smile on her lips gave away her true intentions.

"Wanda…" you called softly, your voice shakier than you intended.

She turned slowly, her eyes alight as though savoring every second of your reaction. "Yes, darling?"

You swallowed hard, searching for something to say, but the words escaped you. All you could think about was the way she looked at you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world at that moment.

"You’re teasing me," you finally managed, trying to sound firm, though your voice trembled slightly.

Wanda took a step closer, then another, until she was so near you could feel the heat radiating off her. "Teasing?" she repeated, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You think I’m teasing?"

Your breath hitched as she raised a hand, her fingertips tracing a light line along your arm. The touch was almost imperceptible, yet it felt like fire against your skin.

"Because if I am teasing," she continued, tilting her head, "you wouldn’t be reacting like this."

"I’m not reacting," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, though it betrayed the lie.

Wanda laughed softly, a low sound that reverberated through you, as if she could see right through your fragile facade. Taking another step closer, she closed the already small distance between you until her warmth was nearly suffocating.

"Not reacting?" she questioned, her tone dripping with disbelief as she arched an eyebrow. "Then why are your cheeks burning?"

Your lips parted to respond, but no sound came out. Her proximity, her voice, and the intensity of her gaze left you completely disarmed. When you tried to step back, Wanda moved with you, maintaining the impossibly close distance.

"Y/n," she whispered, her voice low and rough as her fingers traveled up your arm, stopping at the curve of your neck. "Do you really think you can hide this from me?"

Your eyes locked with hers, and the weight of her gaze seemed to pierce straight through you. It was overwhelming, like she could see every thought and emotion you were trying to bury.

"I… I don’t know what you’re talking about," you managed to say, but your voice shook, and Wanda’s eyes gleamed with a mix of satisfaction and desire.

"Don’t you?" she replied, leaning closer, her breath warm against your skin. "Then why are your lips trembling when I’m this close?"

Her fingers trailed along your jawline until she gently tilted your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze.

"Why don’t you tell me what you’re really feeling, hmm?"

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening under the intensity of the moment. "Wanda, I…"

"Come on, sweetheart," she interrupted, her eyes darkening as she tilted her head, her lips hovering mere millimeters from yours. "I’m waiting."

The silence between you was electric, the air so thick it was hard to breathe. And then,almost instinctively, you closed your eyes, surrendering completely to the moment."I… I’m nervous."

Her lips twitched into a predatory smile—a wolf savoring its prey.

Hearing your confession, Wanda finally closed the gap, her lips capturing yours with an almost calculated precision yet brimming with fervor. The kiss demanded a response, coaxing you to cast aside any hesitation or fear.

You clung to her, your hands gripping her arms like lifelines, and Wanda pulled you closer, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in a possessive grip.

When she pulled back, her eyes gleamed, and her victorious smile left you breathless.

"That’s all I needed," Wanda murmured, her voice soft as her fingers trailed through your hair. "Just a little honesty."

“Wanda…” you whispered to yourself, finally letting out the breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. The sound of footsteps in the distance made the two of you step apart. She smiled, that lazy, secretive smile, as she adjusted her hair like nothing had happened. Yet, before you could even try to collect yourself, you heard her voice from the next section:

“Oh, and darling? Bring me a coffee. I like mine strong, no sugar, and hot. Just like you.” She winked at you, teasing.

With your face completely red, you tried to focus on organizing the books, but you knew her smile would be the last thing you’d be able to forget that day.

“I’ll be back later,” she said in a nonchalant tone, leaving you there with trembling legs and a racing heart.

At night, the pattern repeated. As you climbed the stairs to your room after a family dinner, you checked your phone, and there she was again, as if she were everywhere all at once.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I wish you were here with me right now.”

And then came the calls, always after your study sessions—long calls filled with comfortable silences, soft laughter, and conversations that seemed simple but always carried an undertone. You felt, somehow, that Wanda was shaping you, pulling you deeper into her world.

Wanda, on the other hand, felt alive again. The world, once so predictable, had gained color once more. Every shy smile of yours, every hesitant response, was like a spark reigniting something she hadn’t realized had gone out.

The control she held over you was like a masterpiece she sculpted with patience and care. But beneath her obsession, there was something deeper: a silent fear that you might slip away.

Still, she never let it show. The next day, the ritual began again, and you, without even realizing it, surrendered more and more to the web Wanda wove around you.

Wanda sat at the dinner table, twirling a wine glass in her hand with a distracted air. Vision moved through the room with calculated steps, his presence always meticulous, always restrained. But tonight, there was something different. The tension in the air was almost tangible.

“You’ve been… distant,” he began, stopping beside the table. His voice was calm but carried a concern that didn’t feel genuine.

“Distant?” Wanda repeated, not lifting her gaze from the glass. A light, almost ironic smile played on her lips. “I’d say busy.”

Vision sighed, pulling out a chair to sit down. He placed his hands on the table, fingers interlaced. “Busy, then? With what, exactly? It doesn’t seem to be with the family.”

His tone was accusatory, but Wanda didn’t flinch. She lifted her gaze, finally meeting his eyes. Hers were calm, cold. “With what I’ve always been: trying to keep everything running. Someone has to do it, since you’re always off on your ‘business trips.’”

“Oh, so that’s it?” Vision asked, leaning slightly forward. “This is about me? About my trips? Wanda, you knew from the beginning that my work was part of who I am.”

“Just as my life is part of who I am,” she countered, her voice gaining a firmness that made him hesitate. “And yet, you expect me to mold myself to your world, to fit into it without question. But maybe I’ve started questioning.”

Vision blinked, confused, trying to grasp what she meant. “Wanda, that’s not fair. We built this together.”

“Built?” She laughed, but there was no humor in her laugh. “Vision, we followed a script. One you wrote, but never bothered to ask if I wanted to act in it.”

The silence between them was deafening until Vision, weary, shook his head. “What do you want, Wanda? What’s the solution to this?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she let her gaze wander around the room. The walls, the furniture, the carefully organized life they had built together. A life that, not long ago, had seemed enough.

But now...

Her thoughts drifted to you. To the warmth of your shy smile, to the way your eyes lit up when she said something that touched you. Thinking of you was like breathing fresh air after years of suffocation.

The weight on Wanda’s shoulders eased instantly. As if all the problems with Vision, all the arguments, were nothing but distant noise.

“I don’t know what I want,” she finally replied, standing from the table and picking up her wine glass. “But I know I won’t find the answer here.”

She left the room without looking back, leaving Vision alone, lost in his thoughts. Climbing the stairs, Wanda felt lighter. The world seemed less oppressive when she thought of you.

[...]

Another Sunday, another sermon. The day dragged on at a pace Wanda found nearly cruel. The pastor spoke enthusiastically about patience as a virtue, though ironically, he seemed to lack any urgency in concluding his message. She sat on the pew with her arms crossed, trying not to sigh audibly.

Her sharp eyes scanned the congregation, searching for anything to distract her restless mind. But there was nothing beyond familiar faces, whispered conversations, and children failing to stay still.

Same as always, she thought, as boredom settled in with a vengeance.

But then, as the sermon finally drew to a close, Wanda caught something intriguing. Two rows ahead, her mother was speaking with Dotty. Their voices were low, almost conspiratorial, but Wanda had a near-supernatural ability to pick up details when she wanted to.

A fragment of conversation snagged her attention.

"I just don’t know if we can trust leaving her alone. She’s so... restless at times," her mother’s soft, worried voice floated over, accompanied by polite smiles exchanged with Dotty.

"Wouldn’t it be a good idea to take her with you?" Dotty suggested, leaning in slightly.

"Oh no, that would ruin the mood of the trip. We need some time for ourselves," her mother replied, sounding embarrassed. "But I also can’t leave Y/n completely unsupervised. She needs someone responsible, someone who understands her... challenges."

Wanda nearly laughed aloud at that. Challenges? It was an almost endearing understatement.

Curiosity piqued, she rose discreetly, adjusting the tight dress that hugged her silhouette perfectly. Her steps were light, almost inaudible, as she approached the two women. Once close enough to be noticed, she smiled politely, her expression more friendly than genuine.

“Hello, ladies! What do you talk about?” Wanda delivered her most dazzling and irresistible smile to the pair.

Both Dotty and your mother turned simultaneously, visibly startled by the sudden interruption. But Wanda knew how to disarm any reaction with her magnetic presence and impeccably practiced smile.

“Wanda! What a surprise to see you wandering over to this side,” her mother responded, clearly grateful for the unexpected distraction. “We were discussing the trip my husband and I are planning.”

“Oh, a trip,” Wanda said, her eyes lighting up with apparent curiosity. “Where to?” She infused her voice with interest that sounded fake to her but seemed to escape her mother’s notice.

“A second honeymoon in Santorini,” her mother replied with a hint of pride, while Dotty murmured something impressed.

“How romantic,” Wanda murmured, tilting her head slightly. “But you seem tense, dear. What’s the matter?”

Your mother sighed, adjusting her pearl necklace in a nervous gesture. “My concern has a name and a rebellious streak, as you know… Young people these days,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes before continuing. “I don’t want to leave Y/n alone, you know how she is... independent, yet still so young.”

Wanda’s brow furrowed, a slight crease of concern appearing on her face. She sat down beside the two women, as if genuinely interested. “Y/n is truly a special young lady. And you’re right; leaving someone so sweet and full of life alone could be risky. There are so many dangers...”

“Exactly!” your mother exclaimed, seemingly comforted by Wanda’s empathy.

“Well,” Wanda continued smoothly, “if you need someone to look after her while you’re away, I’d be happy to help. I already spend a lot of time with her at the library and have developed quite a... fondness for her.”

Dotty narrowed her eyes briefly, but her expression quickly returned to neutral. Your mother, on the other hand, lit up with immediate relief.

“Would you really do that? Oh, Wanda, that would be a godsend. I’ve been so worried.”

“Of course,” Wanda responded, placing a reassuring hand on her mother’s shoulder. “It would be my pleasure. Besides, Y/n and I get along very well. I’m sure she’ll feel comfortable with me.”

“Perfect then,” your mother said, visibly lighter. “I’ll confirm the travel details and let Y/n know tonight. You’re an angel, Wanda.”

Dotty, however, observed in silence, her faint smile not quite reaching her eyes. “You’re very kind, Wanda,” she remarked, her voice carrying something that might have been admiration or suspicion.

Wanda simply smiled, not letting her perfect mask slip. “I enjoy helping where I can.”

As she walked away, Wanda felt a wave of satisfaction swell inside her. The thought of having you under her roof, within the comfort of her home, made something tighten in her chest in a way that was almost painfully sweet.

“My little one,” she thought, nearly laughing at the irony. “They have no idea how much you’re already mine.”

The day had finally arrived. The morning seemed brighter than usual, sunlight flooding the living room as your parents finalized preparations for their trip. Your mother was radiant, dressed in an elegant outfit with a smile as bright as the sky outside. Your father, more reserved, was still double-checking the documents and tickets with his usual seriousness.

You were sitting on the couch, hugging a pillow, trying to mask the unease you felt. It wasn’t their trip that bothered you but the idea of spending so much time under Wanda’s watchful eyes.

“Sweetheart, come here,” your mother called, breaking through your thoughts. You got up slowly and walked over to her. She held your hands, squeezing them affectionately. “I know it feels strange to leave you here, but I promise it’ll be quick. And Wanda is wonderful; you’ll be in good hands.”

“Yes, Mom,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you actually felt.

Your father approached, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Be a good girl and don’t give us any reason to worry, okay?”

Before you could respond, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. It was her.

Your mother opened the door with an enthusiasm that seemed slightly forced, though you knew she truly trusted Wanda. And there she was: impeccable as always, dressed in neutral tones but exuding a natural sophistication that was magnetic.

“Wanda! So good to see you,” your mother exclaimed, giving the woman a brief hug.

“Good morning,” Wanda replied with a warm smile, her eyes discreetly flicking to you for a fraction of a second before returning to your parents. “I hope you’re excited about your trip.”

“Oh, very,” your mother said, pulling Wanda inside. “And you’re sure it’s no trouble to take care of her?”

“Not at all,” Wanda said quickly, casting a glance your way that made your stomach tighten. “It’ll be a pleasure. Y/n is a lovely young woman, and we’ve already spent quite some time together at the library. It’ll be wonderful to have more time with her.”

Your mother smiled, satisfied with the answer. After a few more hurried goodbyes, your parents finally left, promising to call as soon as they landed.

The door closed, and suddenly, the house was silent—a silence that seemed to hang heavy in the air. You and Wanda stood still for a moment, her eyes fixed on yours in a way that made your skin tingle.

“So,” she began, breaking the silence, her voice soft but carrying something you couldn’t quite decipher. “Just the two of us now.”

There was a calm certainty in her words, one that made you feel any resistance would be futile. She smiled, picking up your small suitcase and setting it aside.

“Where should we begin?” she asked, her gaze almost predatory as it locked onto you.

Your blood rushed to your cheeks, and you offered her a shy smile. “Hi…” you whispered.

Wanda bit the corner of her lip and strode toward you, her hands finding your waist. “Hi, little one…” she purred into your ear, making you gasp. “I missed you.”

Wanda pulled you into a firm yet gentle embrace, enveloping you completely. Her arms around your waist felt both protective and possessive, and you couldn’t help the slight shiver that ran down your spine. Her scent—a mix of expensive perfume and something inherently her—surrounded you, and you almost closed your eyes, as if you could lose yourself in that moment.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Wanda murmured, her voice low and melodic, as if it were a secret shared only between the two of you. “How did you manage so well without me around?”

Your voice faltered for a second before you managed to respond, a slight tremor in your words. “I… don’t know. But I’m glad you’re here now.”

She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her fingers reaching up to brush aside a strand of hair that had fallen onto your forehead. The touch was soft but deliberate, and you felt your face heat even more under her intense gaze.

“You’re so sweet,” Wanda said with a smile that seemed maternal but carried something more, something that made your pulse quicken. “And so obedient… I bet you did well.”

You lowered your eyes, feeling both embarrassed and strangely pleased by her words. It felt so comforting, her treating you this way… maternal? Wanda tilted her head, studying you as if reading every thought.

“It’s okay, Dekta. You can relax with me,” she said gently, her fingers now lightly caressing your cheek. “Let me take care of you, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything now.”

You nodded, your submission clear and genuine in the gesture. Wanda seemed pleased, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. Your posture was stiff, almost awkward—as if you weren’t used to this kind of comforting presence.

Wanda noticed your hesitation, the way your shoulders remained tense as if you still weren’t sure whether to relax or keep your defenses up. She didn’t rush anything; instead, her movements were calculated, gentle, as if handling something fragile and precious.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” she whispered, taking your hand and guiding you onto her lap. “Sit here.”

You obeyed without thinking, settling onto her lap with your hands nervously resting on your knees. Wanda didn’t speak for a moment, simply letting her presence envelop you, her calmness radiating until it began to seep into you.

When she placed a hand at the curve of your neck, the weight seemed to dissolve all the tension you’d been holding. She slid it gently down your back, drawing lazy, soothing circles that sent waves of warmth across your skin. You closed your eyes reflexively, feeling strangely safe, as if there was no danger in the world while you were there under her touch.

“There,” Wanda murmured, more to herself than to you. “Let it all go. Everything holding you back, everything weighing on you… you don’t have to carry any of it now. Not while you’re with me.”

She pulled you closer, making you rest your face against her chest. You felt it rise and fall with her steady, deep breaths. She began to hum softly, and the vibration in her chest lulled you further into relaxation.

Your eyelids grew heavier, and heavier, and heavier. Until the last thing you heard was a barely audible whisper.

“Mommy will make it all go away…”

Wanda felt you completely relax in her arms, the weight of your body now light and surrendered. It was a unique, almost intoxicating sensation to realize how much you trusted her, how willing you were to let go. She knew this went far beyond the physical. It was something emotional, visceral.

She observed you for a moment, your long lashes resting on your cheeks as your breathing slowed, rhythmic and calm. Every small movement of yours seemed so innocent, so vulnerable, that Wanda felt a surge of emotions she hadn't realized she was capable of experiencing. A mix of tenderness, possessiveness, and something burning deep within her: the need to care for you, to protect you... to have you entirely for herself.

She ran her fingers through your hair, gently combing it as she murmured soothing words, almost inaudible. "Good girl… so sweet, so mine…"

Each word was a quiet reminder to herself, an affirmation of the bond she was building between you. Wanda felt a maternal warmth growing in her chest, something she hadn’t felt since her own children. But this was different, deeper. With you, she didn’t just want to protect; she wanted to mold. To guide you until you completely depended on her.

She tilted her head, her lips brushing your forehead in a soft kiss. A sigh escaped her lips as she allowed herself to sink into the moment, into this role that felt so natural to her. You were perfect like this, Wanda thought. Fragile, delicate, needy.

“My little girl,” she murmured again, with a small, satisfied smile.

And there was something more—a feeling of quiet power. She knew you needed her, that you trusted her in a way no one else could. And it fed something dark and secret within her, a desire to keep you exactly like this: dependent, submissive, hers.

Wanda watched as you slept, your features soft and relaxed. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disrupt the moment. But at the same time, a part of her was already planning what would come next.

She wasn’t in a hurry. You had all the time in the world, and Wanda was willing to make it last. To mold you little by little, to tear down any remaining barriers, until you no longer remembered who you were without her.

“I’ll take care of you, Dekta,” she whispered, more to herself than to you. “Forever.”

[...]

You wake up with a start, as if everything has been a dream. However, you find yourself in your room, covered with soft blankets that do not seem like your own. You feel light, in such an intense state of relaxation that it leaves you lethargic.

Descending your stairs, you find two packed suitcases leaning against the door. Reaching the kitchen, you see Wanda taking something out of the oven and upon seeing you, she offers you a brilliant smile.

“Look who’s awake…”

You blink, still drowsy, trying to process the scene in front of you. Wanda is there, impeccable as always, with an apron tied around her slim waist, her hair perfectly arranged, her face illuminated by that smile that seems both welcoming and… dangerous.

“Did you sleep well, Dekta?” she asks, her soft voice laden with a warmth that makes you blush instantly.

You murmur something inaudible, feeling a bit awkward under her penetrating gaze. Wanda places the dish on the counter and approaches slowly, like a predator observing its prey.

“You looked so calm,” she says, her eyes scanning your face, every reaction being silently noted. “I made sure you needed this rest.”

“I… thank you,” you murmur, swallowing hard as she continues to approach.

“No need to thank me, dear,” Wanda replies, now close enough for you to feel the warmth of her body. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

You nod, your throat dry, unable to find words. The way she looks at you, like she can see right into your soul, is both disarming and captivating.

“Come,” Wanda says, extending her hand to you. “Sit down. I made something special.”

You hesitate for a moment before accepting her hand. Her warm fingers wrap around yours, and the touch is enough to make your heart race. She guides you to the table, where plates are elegantly arranged with a breakfast that looks like it came from a culinary magazine.

Wanda pulls a chair out for you, her eyes never leaving yours as you sit down. She leans slightly, adjusting the blanket still draped over your shoulders, and whispers: “Are you comfortable, my little girl?”

You can only nod, feeling your cheeks burn. There is something about the way she says these words, the way she takes care of you, that makes your head spin.

As you eat, Wanda sits across from you, watching with a calm yet unyielding intensity. Each time you look up at her, you feel a warmth rising up your spine.

“You seem nervous,” she comments with a subtle smile, tilting her head. “Is everything alright, Dekta?”

“I just…” you hesitate, your fingers playing with the fork. “I’m not used to… this.”

“To what?” she asks, her voice low and inviting, her eyes fixed on yours.

“To someone taking care of me like this,” you admit, your voice a bit shaky.

Wanda smiles, this time with a depth to her expression. “Then it’s time for you to get used to it.”

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with a tension you don’t know how to dissipate. Wanda reaches out again, this time holding your hand across the table, her fingers tracing soft circles on your skin.

“You know you can trust me, don’t you?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.

You nod slowly, your eyes locked with hers.

“Then show me,” Wanda continues, her eyes darkening slightly. “Show me that you trust me, Dekta.”

Your heart races. You know what she is insinuating, you know what she is expecting. But taking the initiative seems as frightening as it is necessary.

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your courage, and slowly lean over the table. Wanda’s gaze never wavers, encouraging you, pulling you closer.

And then, finally, your lips meet hers in a hesitant but emotion-filled kiss. Wanda responds immediately, but with delicate control, guiding you as if she knows exactly how to make you comfortable.

When you pull away, breathless, Wanda’s eyes shine with a mix of satisfaction and something more, something that makes your legs tremble.

“Such a brave little girl…” she whispers, her voice as sweet as it is possessive.

You exhale.

“I’m not a baby.” You say, forcing your pride.

Wanda clicks her tongue and murmurs something under her breath.

“Oh, yes… You’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

But what is this? You’re a girl! And a big one! Why is she talking to you like you’re some stupid child? And why is it sending waves of heat to your core?

Wanda forces you to look at her and meet her intense, wild—and cruel—eyes. You stay like this for a moment, until your body starts to tingle under the effect of her presence.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? You’re squirming all over…” she blows into your ear, making you let out a small moan. “Do you feel strange, my sweet?” you try to escape her, averting your gaze, but Wanda seems determined to see you embarrassed and small in front of her.

You nod your head, trying to stammer a response while being caught up in her.

“Uh, I know, dear. I know…” the older woman murmurs. “But I want you to use your big girl words and tell me where it feels strange.” her voice seems to grow, almost as if she’s holding back.

“I…” You rub your legs together, trying to alleviate the growing burn in your core.

“I know it's hard, isn't it, sweetheart?” You nod vehemently. She’s so close it’s making you lose your senses. “But you’re a smart girl, aren't you? I know you can. Use your words for me, come on, Y/n.”

Breathing deeply, trembling, looking at her, her lips so close to yours you could lean in and capture them. A trembling hand resting against your core.

“Here.”

“Ah, your tummy? Your tummy feels strange?” she places her hand over the spot and starts massaging it, making you automatically let out a moan at the feel of her warm palm.

So close to where you need it most, but so far…

“Eyes open for me, baby.” at the woman’s command, you realize you were so relaxed you had closed your eyes, and upon opening them, you see her most radiant smile.

“Good girl! There you are!” Wanda purrs, making your eyes roll back at the feel of her breath in your ear.

You smiled shyly, loving the taste of her words.

“Do you want anything else, dear?”

You shake your head, feeling your hair mess up with the movement.

“No? It doesn’t feel slimy anywhere else?” the wrinkle in her forehead showed she wasn’t happy.

Her hand, which previously held your cheek gently, now holds your chin, her fingers pinching your cheeks, making a painful pout. Not too harsh in itself, but firm enough to remind you who’s in charge.

"It's not polite for little girls to lie," her tone is severe in a way that makes you feel like you're being chastised.

You whimper at the thought that she might be mad at you.

"I'm sorry, Wanda..." your words come out a bit muffled by the way she’s pinching your cheeks.

Her expression softens and she lowers her face to the crook of your neck, hugging you against her as she places a kiss against your nape.

"I know, dear, it’s okay." she says, rubbing firm circles on your back. "Perhaps I should just check then, hmm?"

Your eyes widen in shock but she just smiles, seeming delighted, as if she didn’t just The smile that formed on Wanda's face was not the same as before. It was deeper, more laden, as if she had just claimed something she always knew was hers.

“I…”

"Big girls know where they feel everything. I thought you were a big girl, Y/n." she arches an eyebrow, provocative.

"I am!" You shout, frustrated.

"Then prove it." Her voice is dark and husky, making the pulse between your legs increase tenfold.

No one has ever touched you down there, thinking about it always made you so nervous. Wanda seems to know this—however, your inexperience seems to please the woman.

With trembling hands, you take her hand—perfectly manicured with red nails, dragging it down below the navel, resting it on top of your panties.

“Oh, sweetheart…” her voice comes out trembling. Wanda presses her fingers to you, making your hips jerk and a high-pitched and needy moan escape. “You’re so beautiful…” she murmurs as if it’s the simplest and most obvious thing in the world.

“It… hurts.” whining, you try to move your hips toward her again, offering yourself.

“Do you want Wanda to make it go away?” hearing the woman refer to herself in the third person is strange, you frown, but you nod. “Words.”

“Yes.”

The woman stops all of her stimuli suddenly, making you protest.

“Yes, what?” she prompts something you don’t understand, so she starts moving her hand up to your neck—squeezing, squeezing and squeezing.

“Yes, Wanda…?” the sentence comes out muffled with a hint of insecurity.

Wanda huffs, leaving you confused. What does she want?

She loosens her grip and backs away a bit.

“How about this?” her hands squeeze your hips and rub against the bottom of your stomach, as she makes you straddle her; pulling your body against hers in a way that creates exhilarating pressure on your pleasure point.

A dragging and needy moan escapes your throat.

"Oh, is that good?" Wanda laughs, as you nod weakly.

The dress you wear starts to bunch up around your waist. Wanda's gaze is lost, as if she’s thinking about many things at the same time.

"You’d look lovely in my clothes, kitten." she moans.

Wanda slides her fingers inside your pussy, not deep enough to break your hymen, but to explore.

“Are you getting close, dear?” without thinking, you nod.

She extends one hand to toy with your hard nipples.

"My beautiful girl..." she moans.

Wanda pulls you harder against her. Your sex is so wet, the lewd and sticky sound is audible, while she beams brightly at you.

"Do you hear that? Hear the mess you’re making on my hand?" She taunts, her fingers moving in slow circles, pushing you to the edge.

“I’m going to cum!” you whimper to her with glassy eyes.

“Are you going to make a huge mess on Mommy’s lap?” she was as desperate as you were—dark and wild eyes.

The woman grips your hips even tighter, pressing you against her even faster.

“It’s okay, little girl. I’m here for you!” exploding against her a few seconds later, you let out a loud, high-pitched, irregular cry of pleasure.

Babbling helplessly, fixing your eyes on the sea green of hers, you let her guide you.

“There she is! There’s my pretty girl…” she says, sniffing your skin.

You’ve never felt like this.

Not sure if it was the peak of edging, the constant arousal, or Wanda’s extremely sexy and dominant overall presence. But that orgasm was the most incredible thing you’ve ever experienced.

Wanda pulls you close to her, kissing the top of your head, soothing you, giving you all the time you need to return to yourself. Whispering quiet words of reassurance, and gently caressing your pussy, inducing your aftershock tremors post-orgasm.

“Thank you…”

She laughs softly, combing your hair back from your damp forehead with her fingers. She gives you a kiss, smiling as she sees you trying to caress her shakily.

You cuddle against Wanda, her scent enveloping you like a blanket that warms and calms. Her breathing is steady, a tranquil beat in contrast to the internal turmoil you feel. Your mind is a whirlwind, trying to process everything that happened, but your body seems to have other ideas, sinking deeper into that moment of comfort and surrender.

“Why…” you begin, your voice sounding fragile, hesitant. “Why do I feel like this around you?”

Wanda tilts her head, her green eyes glowing with something you can’t completely decipher. There’s a trace of tenderness, but also something deeper, something that seems almost possessive.

“Like what?” she asks softly, her fingers still stroking your hair.

“Relaxed…” you confess, swallowing hard as you try to find the right words. “As if… as if nothing else matters. As if I can just… let go of everything.”

She smiles, a small smile but full of meaning. “Because you trust me,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And because I make you feel safe, don’t I, my sweet little girl?”

You blush, her words hitting something deep inside you. It’s true. There’s something about Wanda — the way she looks at you, touches you, guides you — that makes all your barriers fall, as if you can finally be yourself without fear of judgment or rejection. But that leaves you vulnerable, and that vulnerability scares you as much as it comforts you.

“It’s… strange,” you admit, lowering your gaze. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“There’s nothing strange about it,” Wanda responds, her voice firm but gentle. “You’ve never had someone take care of you like this before, have you?”

You shake your head slowly, feeling tears threatening to form. She’s right. All your life, you’ve built walls around yourself, keeping others at a distance, believing that independence was your only option. But with Wanda, those walls no longer seem necessary.

She leans in and kisses your forehead, a gesture so gentle it makes your heart ache. “You don’t need to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

Her words resonate within you, like a promise that seems impossible to break. You look at her, your eyes meeting, and for the first time you feel like you can truly believe it.

“Come on,” Wanda says after a moment, stroking your cheek. “I made a strawberry pie, and I want you to try it while it’s still fresh.”

She helps you up, guiding you to the kitchen as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And somehow, in her presence, everything really does feel easier, lighter. As though, for the first time, you’re not alone in the world.

Wanda is seated across from you, with a generous slice of strawberry pie balanced on a pristine plate. Her eyes sparkle with joy, and you notice a mischievous smile forming on her lips.

“Now, open up, little girl,” she says, holding a spoonful of the pie right in front of you.

You blink, blushing immediately. “I can feed myself, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Wanda replies, her voice sweet but with a clear tone of amusement. “But where’s the fun in that? Come on, don’t be shy.”

You hesitate, feeling the blush rise even more in your cheeks. But before you can protest again, Wanda tilts the spoon towards your mouth. “Be a good girl,” she murmurs, her eyes playing with an unmistakable gleam.

Sighing, you give in and open your mouth, allowing her to place the spoon inside. The sweetness of the pie explodes on your tongue, and you can’t help but let out a small moan of approval.

“See? I knew you would like it,” Wanda says with a broad smile, but soon the smile turns into a genuine, warm laugh that reverberates through the kitchen.

Hearing that laugh made your heart tighten. It was contagious, and you ended up smiling as well, even as you tried to wipe the corner of your mouth with your hand.

“Okay, your turn,” you said, grabbing her spoon, but before you could reach her, Wanda gently held your wrist.

“Oh, no, dear,” she said, leaning forward. “I said I’m feeding you today. Relax and let me take care of that.”

She dipped the spoon back into the pie and, before you could protest again, was already offering you another spoonful. You shook your head in an exasperated gesture, but obeyed, feeling ridiculously embarrassed and, at the same time, warmed inside.

“I look like a child,” you muttered after swallowing.

“A lovely, sweet, and stubborn child,” Wanda teased, laughing again. “And it pleases me much more than it should. Now, open up again.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed along with her, the tension that always seemed to hover between you momentarily forgotten. For a moment, it was like the world was simple, made only of laughter, strawberry pie, and the strange feeling of being exactly where you should be.

The kitchen was full of relaxed laughter as you and Wanda shared the dessert. The strawberry pie was delicious, but the real sweetness was in the interaction between you two. Wanda, always with that air of control and fun, kept feeding you, insisting on larger spoonfuls despite your protests.

“I swear I’m full!” you said, gently pushing her hand away while laughing. “If I eat more, I will explode like a balloon!”

“Explode? Nonsense,” Wanda replied with a mischievous smile. “You still have space. I’ve barely started.”

“You are impossible,” you muttered, still laughing as you tried to dodge another spoonful. “And if I really explode? Then it will be your fault.”

“If that happens, I will clean up the mess,” Wanda replied casually, but the predatory look suggested something more.

You laughed again, but then Wanda straightened up, looking at the empty plate. She seemed to change her tone suddenly, adopting a more serious air. “Okay, enough pie. Time for you to drink a glass of water and maybe rest some more.

"I want to watch a movie now." You request, with puppy dog eyes. “Not now, dear. Maybe if you behave until evening, I’ll let you choose.” Wanda smiled, getting up, placing the dishes in the sink.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the authoritative tone. “Oh, no, mommy, please!” you said playfully, making a face and stretching your arms dramatically.

The air in the kitchen changed. The earlier lightness was replaced by something denser. Wanda’s eyes darkened, the smile disappearing as she tilted her head slightly as if studying you.

“Say it again,” she demanded, her voice low and laden.

The blush rose instantly on your face. “I was just joking, Wanda,” you began, but the intensity of her gaze made your voice falter.

“Say. It. Again.” She repeated, moving slightly closer, the tone firm but not aggressive. It was a command, not a request.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. There was something in her eyes, a mix of authority and desire that made you dizzy. With a mixture of shyness and hesitation, you murmured: “Mommy…”

The smile that formed on Wanda's face was not the same as before. It was deeper, more laden, as if she had just claimed something she always knew was hers.

"Good girl," she said softly, leaning in to caress your cheek. "Come. Let's pick your movie now." She takes your hands, pulling you both onto the couch—making your eyes shine as you realize the power of that single little word.

During the chosen movie—Disney's Tangled—Wanda's mind began to work. Hearing you say "Mommy," the woman felt something she hadn't expected: a wave of warmth, a sense of completeness that seemed to touch every part of her being. It was as if a piece of the puzzle she didn't even know was missing had perfectly fallen into place. For a brief moment, she paused, as if time had frozen, absorbing the moment with an intensity that nearly took her breath away.

The word echoed in her mind on a loop, like a melody composed exclusively for her. It wasn't just the sound, but what lay behind it: the surrender, the trust, the recognition. A mix of possessiveness and tenderness flooded her. It was more than desire, more than control—it was something primal, a protective instinct that made her chest swell with pride and satisfaction.

Her fingers stroked your cheek almost reverently, while her eyes burned with intensity. "My little girl," she thought, a smile appearing on her lips as she realized the impact she had on you. There was something deliciously addictive about the way you submitted, even without fully understanding just how much you did.

Wanda had always been in control, always the one leading others, but this was different. With you, there was a perfect balance between the dominance she cherished and the sweetness she secretly craved. And now, hearing you call her that... Well, that was the cherry on top.

The sight of you curled up against her, like a baby seeking maternal warmth, drove her wild. It made her want more and more of you. Seeing you so unaware of her thoughts—your gentle eyes focused on the screen, captivated by the animation's events, so sweet. You resembled a little lamb—so soft and affectionate—that in two days is taking its graceful leaps; in two weeks is playing 'follow the leader.' Your frailty was part of your charm. A lamb is pure innocence, so innocent that people want to possess it or even devour it. People like Wanda...

She inhaled the scent of your hair deeply, feeling the strength of her emotions, while a certainty formed in her mind. You were not just someone under her control—you were hers, and she would do whatever it took to ensure that never changed.

~*~

Be a good girl, Y/n... Wanda's watching

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @beggingonmykneesforher @rosekjsses @trindad2k @indentity0018 @3liyuh @trying-to-do-good @reginassecretlover

[bunybunn]

Okay enough time passed for me to try to put it all my thoughts about the Dream situation in one place at least until the Shut up i'm talking (patreon only 7$!!!) episode comes out.

First of all let's not forget that all of this started because Dream got involved in Twitter beef that had nothing to do with him. Sure xQc mentioned Dream's name but it was in reference to Tommy "dickriding" Dream when he was starting making content. It was dig at Tommy that didn't needed Dream's response in the slightest however the green guy didn't care and posted meme using r-word. Which obviously gain shit ton of backlash from every normal enough person because that is a slur. This also means that a lot of people reacted and talked about it including Tubbo.

The fact that this followed with 3 hours stream where Dream specifically reacted to Tubbo is ridiculous by itself. All he had to do is apologise and take responsibility for using a slur but instead Dream felt the need to pull out old controversy and pull more content creators into it. Additionally despite himself claiming that you should not cut things out of context he was skipping parts of Tubbo's stream and did not watched in in full. Also it's important to mention that the "apology" he did said in the said stream was especially "I saw people on Internet calling me that and I thought that means I can use it as a slur as well" which is an insane take that also sounded like something little kid would use as ane excuse.

Next important stop is Tommy's response. It was basically just Tommy telling Dream that he doesn't want to associate with him anymore. It's worth pointing out Tom's video was done in one take style, the was no big editing but rather just Tommy shearing his opinion and his feelings. Because of that we got few hyperboles like Dream "harassing" Tommy's mom and him being described as a movie villain-like.

Then you have the Dreams response to Tommy that was definitely not done with good intentions. Unlike Tom's one Dream's video was edited, he added music, pictures that were not proofs but were there to invoked specific emotions and also a short in Minecraft scene when he referenced his dream smp character. In my opinion that video was perfect example of how to manipulate audiences with content. He ensured that Tom's arguments seemed ridiculous, usually by taking it out of context like he did with the sexism part as well as with Tommy saying he was behind dream smp success, or pulled heavier accusations that make Tommy looked bad. Keep in mind how insane it actually was to after Dream had his content and merch be called lazy going straight to using case of scummy company that produced Tommy's merch at some point and has legal case against it that Dream had no deeper knowledge about and using rumors that Tommy is/was mistreating his editors using screanshots that were cropped and taken without consent of people in those. All of it while Dream was trying to act like he is still the good guy who so respects everyone and just wants everyone to get along.

The thing is Tubbo's discussion with Dream proved that was absolute bullshit. During the conversation it was clear genuinely expected it to go as he usually described private calls aka after he gets to explain himself the other person will see it his way. Unfortunately for him he heavily underestimated Tubbo, who did phenomenal job try to point out Dream missteps and make good arguments. Still Dream's behaviour was very much manipulative during it. I think the moment that shows it the most was the part where they talked about the merch company where Tubbo got to the point where he slipped and mentioned that there was one case of child labor in said company, something that clear came from his insider knowledge, and Dream started to use Tubbo's words against him to justify himself even though he had not know about it when making his video therefore it was irrelevant. His attitude also was very much "rules for thee not for me" any time Tubbo tried to hold Dream to the same standards Dream is holding other people who talk about him. Another thing that rubbed me the wrong way was how hard Dream was trying to make himself look good at the very end of the discussion by throwing complements and trying to act as if everything got resolved. I'm pretty sure he hoped this would encourage people to talking it out with him in private but I feel this might have the opposite effect since everyone got to see how such call would potencialy look like.

[call-me-liquid]

Hey fam we're gunna inact in some sinful behavior again and get real for a sec here on the shitposting blog so TW: Discussion of substance abuse, mental health issues, SA, etc.

You may have noticed I took a bit of a break from posting for a bit. It wasn't entirely due to Lily's "junkie" rant here, but it was partially responsible.

A lot about Lily high key cheeses my biscuits, I've made that pretty clear. Lily and I have a . . . Strange amount in common in some regards. I'm a trans person myself, I come from a similar, shall we say, "dysfunctional home environment" Lily does. We're even both Canadian, close enough in age I grew up with a lot of the exact same regional-specific media she did. We've had some other life experiences in common.

With that said, Lily's almost like the evil funhouse mirror version of my life. I was sexually assaulted for the first time at basically the exact same age Courtney was. Lily reminds me very much of my first partner, who physically, emotionally and sexually abused me. Unlike Lily, I am from an actual multi-racial family and have had the somewhat unique experiences and gotten the somewhat unique perspective of being a white person partially influenced and organically adopted into more predominantly POC culture. I've had to come to terms with my own white privilege and the ways Western colonialism has influenced me on a level far more personal than it would be for someone from a more monoracial and monocultural family than mine. While also coming to terms with and accepting the ways my family has been judged and discriminated against for being so blended.

There's also just the fact that Lily seems to (I wonder if, on some level, intentionally) act like the alt-right caricature of a progressive leftist in the most performative way imaginable, while also clearly not actually being left-wing at all. My pet theory is that the only thing stopping Lily from going full Blaire White MAGA butt monkey is that her pride can't take it. Being treated like a useful idiot for the right to "prove" they're not bigots while treating her with open hostility in every other regard. So she's as "leftist" as she needs to be to get the 12 year olds she's trying to court on her side because they don't know any better. While being profoundly anti-labor, pro-capitalist. Even though the only reason why the alt-right hyper focus on identity politic bullshit like that is becayse it's a wedge issue that allows them to skirt around talking about actual policy.

There's also just the fact that someone can be so, confidently, shit-eating levels of wrong and stupid about the most asinine things. I actually work professionally in the fields Lily has decided her opinions are worth vomiting out into the ether. Fields people in general are way too comfortable speaking with authority on shit they know absolutely nothing about-- but Lily is for sure a special case.

Point is: I'm very used to Lily making me go into turbo big upsetti spaghetti mode. I've been aware of her for YEARS. I'm over it . . . Until I'm not.

I've alluded to it a few times already: I'm a recovered drug user, though I've struggled with general substance abuse and impulse control issues for longer. Particularly because of untreated mental health issues like C-PTSD, a dissociative disorder, gender dysphoria and ADHD. Particularly because of untreated physical health issues that just a few years ago almost killed me. Issues that caused me significant pain, mental distress, and slowly worsening disability since I was 11 years old. Went totally untreated until they came close to taking my life. It's no coincidence that I started stealing my parent's booze when I was around 12 or 13 years old.

The worst, ugliest, most humiliating aspects of yourself? Addiction will put them front and center. It will cause you to do things, act in ways, find out things about yourself you're never going to be able to unknow. You have to live with for the rest of your life.

You're aware of it-- the whole time. What a fucking creature you've become. How you are hurting the people closest to you. It's not fun. The whole time, you want to stop. But you can't. You don't know why you just can't control yourself, what you're supposed to do. You're afraid of asking for help out of fear of judgement or punishment. Drugs are mostly decriminalized in Canada and still, if someone just took access away from my poison of choice and sent me on my way with no further help--- I would have just walked into traffic.

The worst of my issues happened due to some absolutely insane levels of medical irresponsibility that I won't fully get into because they're too long to explain. But I will tell you that, already aware I had substance abuse issues, I *explicitly warned* the doctor who prescribed me the medication that I didn't feel I could be responsible to be put on anything addictive. She assured me it was not. Spoiler altert: it was addictive. A lot of addicts descent into rock bottom beginning with something they were prescribed.

Drug companies will put in these "anti-abuse" measures into otherwise addictive substances that it takes half a brain cell to circumvent. Just take my word for it.

I overdosed at least once, maybe twice on the drug I was originally prescribed. Alone. By some insane luck I survived both times without getting further medical treatment. But as I built up a tolerance what I was originally prescribed wasn't the *only thing* I ended up abusing in that period of my life. I was going to die if I didn't do something soon, and I knew it.

I was lucky. My sister drove two cities over after a night shift to my rescue and quite literally set me on the road to saving my life. My doctor was compassionate enough to allow me to get off of what I was originally addicted to at my own pace, and correctly identified I needed a medication overhaul to do so. My older brother made sure I wasn't dying of dehydration or starvation during my detox period and made sure to do the daily tasks I didn't have the mental capacity to do at that time aswell. Without them I wouldn't be here today.

NOT EVERY DRUG USER IS AS FORTUNATE AS ME, HOWEVER. And even then, recovery is not a straight line, or as simple as having certain substances kept away. It's a demon you'll be fighting the rest of your life, in many instances. Mine included. Part of getting off the harmful substances I was was getting a prescription to Adderall, as I was partially self-medicating for. Something my doctor still monitors me with to ensure I'm not falling back into bad habits with. Something Lily is CURRENTLY bitching about not being able to get a prescription for-- I wonder why, Lily.

I have now gone through THREE surgeries without painkillers. And in one particularly awful incident, was treated rather cruelly by the medical staff over refusing to take them. To quote, of all things, fucking Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo, "if you live with pain long enough, you learn to enjoy the taste." But nothing is like the nightmare of chemical dependence. Pain is immaterial to that kind of hell.

I know Lily is saying this bullshit just to vaguepost about Courtney, but I don't care. Fuck her. Fuck her for daring to judge me, and those like me. That she was that comfortable being this vile about the matter publically should give you a good indication as to how comfortable even other people are to talking down to addicts.

She wouldn't have survived the shit I went through. I dare her to try. She's way too much of a little piss baby to crawl her way out of that kind of suffering.

I know this is a meme page, but I refuse to be ashamed of talking about it. If anyone would like some more information about my experience or has questions as to why Lily's opinion on the matter is dogshit and vile, feel free to dm me or send me an ask. I'll make it clear why Lily is fucking scum for having the balls to say this publically. I'll make her regret it.

[jinxxedmisery]

God... WHY!? (NSFW)

Headcanons plus a short fic.

Warnings: NSFW content.. this is literally a scenario about Gojo being a goofball during the deed...

Anywho... enjoy...Hope you like dead memes and cringe... (I hate myself for writing this... This should be a war crime)

Generally Gojo enjoys bringing humor into the bedroom, he really loves seeing you laugh.

But sometimes... He can get so fucking annoying.

As you lay on your back, hands pinned down to the bed, Gojo on top of you, thrusting into you in just the right way to make you scream...

A song you know all too well comes on... He's played it during sex so often. After that damned reddit r/AITA post he will not stop.

You've begged him to delete it from your Spotify playlist, but he never did.

Nasty little shit likes to see you go from whining about wanting him deeper to whining wanting him to stop acting like an idiot

Ofc.. He likes calling you really stupid pet names as well.. in and out of the bedroom..

And you better believe he thrusts with the rhythm of the song playing.. not the beat... Like a psychopath.

"Satoru....." you whine. A smirk appears on his lips as he continues the eratic thrust pattern.

"Hmmm? what is it munchkin?" He says with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You roll your eyes

"Please... for fuck sake turn that shit off... and wait... 'Munchkin' did you just call me 'Munchkin'?" You resist the urge to push him off of you and onto the floor

"Aww does my little boo thang not like what I call them?" You narrow your eyes at him

"Do you want me to shrivel up and die down there?" He rests his head on your shoulder and you feel him grin against your skin, you gulp in response fearing what would come next.

"Oh pookiebear~ You'll be okay won't you? You still want my girthy meat stick right?" he whispers in your ear, you hate to admit it but it could almost be hot... If he weren't whispering the most deranged shit into your ears. "You love it when my hotdog is inside your moist cavern don't you?"He whispers making you cringe. "And when my hands move to touch your sensitive nubbins" He says, moving his hand over to your chest, teasing your nipples. "How about I purple your nurple, would you like that my candybear.. the jelly to my peanut butter~"

"Satoru.... I hate you so much right now" You complain, He evidently takes pleasure in your cringing as he chuckles leaning in to kiss you. His thrusts once again moving to a pleasurable rhythm. No matter how much you groan and act like you hated him for it, you still truly love him. And that included all of his bedroom antics. In fact, you appreciate it sometimes, he always knows how to make you laugh and well today was indeed one of those days.

Just as you were soaking in the serious affection he was finally giving you after his goofiness.

Two Trucks came on. And he began bobbing his head and syncing his thrusts to the music. You scream in exasperation. "SATORU GOJO I SWEAR TO SHIT I'M NEVER LETTING YOU TOUCH SPOTIFY EVER AGAIN!!!"

He slept on the couch that night.. As he should.

[poisonedspider]

Real life vent under the cut, then hoping to get some writing done. I jacked myself up on caffeine so I could write, but then all this shit has been happening tonight that I've shut down immensely and almost entirely lost muse for Angel Dust.

The very brief tldr, that some of you know - the Husk that I cosplay with has a major crush on me. I have been incredibly straight forward about not wanting a relationship right now, as well as that sex for me does not have romantic feelings behind it. (No, her and I never had sex, that's just a relevant piece). Mind you, I did not find out she had feelings for me until September at FanX, when she threw a hissy fit and ignored me all day because I was talking to a guy I had been seeing since May, and not having feelings for her.

I told her after how she treated me at that convention that any shot she would have had was completely blown. She understood, apologized, etc. Said she would back off. We have been talking like normal friends. Sure, sometimes I bring up things like...she sent me a photo of her in a towel post shower? Which really isn't the backing off she promised. And I would say like, "BUT WHERE ARE THE BOOBIES." I do not really consider that flirting. I consider that me being a GUY. I have lots of pictures of my friends boobs. Like. That doesn't mean I'm interested.

She stopped talking to me for a month in December, because she had a mental breakdown after I told her I was considering becoming official with the guy I had been talking to. Literally mental breakdown. She said it triggered her ED, she went to a therapist, etc. About two weeks ago, she finally came back. Apologized. Said how I wasn't treated fairly, etc. Literally four days ago, was talking about the next time we'd cosplay Huskerdust.

Disappears on me again all this week, only to come back and try and villainize me. Tell me her therapist says I should have been clear on my feelings (I was) and that it is never her responsibility to clarify (which wtf kind of therapist is this). Apparently she made a "demi community" on BlueSky. And is now villainizing me to my best friend. Told my bestie that she feels that I was emotionally taking advantage of her by letting me vent to her (uh...friends vent to friends??) and that I was "using her affection for my own ego."

I just spent the past two hours sending my best friend over 200 screen shots of our conversations. And my bestie is like, "....this is such a different picture than what she has been painting. You are acting like a friend. You aren't doing anything to lead her on, and in fact multiple times have said she's lost her chance because of how she treated you." Like. Do I say things like babe? Hon? Sure. I say that to people on here, too.

The irony is that she told me she started to like me because she started to fantasize about Angel, not me. Yet if I actually have Angel qualities (which yes, I do - I flirt, I am physical, I like sex and talk about it), she takes it as me leading her on. Even though I've been clear, and she never once spoke up or tried to set a boundary.

So now she said she never wants to cosplay Husk again. When we had all these plans....literally four days ago. She's telling my friends I'm this terrible person. But meanwhile everyone that has seen the screenshots is literally like.....wow what the fuck lens was she viewing things through.

That was such a ramble, but point is, I'm fussy. I've been crying. I've been angry. And since she's my Husk, it is now putting the most sour taste in my mouth and it's making me really struggle to even want to be on Angel. Which breaks my little heart because Angel is everything to me (I even had another pole class tonight! Determined!) I just....don't know what to do. I'm upset. I need a hug. I almost need a reason to keep pursuing Angel because this has turned me off so much and I am just...not great.

[one-winged-dreams]

Formal Request

ship: (Dione x Svarog) source: Honkai Star Rail word count: 1043

this is supposed to make me feel better so it's mostly just dialogue with little substance but eh, i needed to make something for this ship eventually

no proofreading, we post like men

tag list: @kylars-princess @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @dorothys-wife @the-sleeping-city @camellias-and-coriander @sunstar-of-the-north @lysandreslittlechatot

"Has Clara seemed off to you, lately?"

The question came idly from Dione, but not without an amount of thoughtfulness.

In lieu of a response, Svarog merely tilted his head inquisitively, the motion almost missed until Dione turned his gaze to actively gauge any such response.

"She's been acting… Strange. Unusually bashful. Surely you've noticed." Dione's eyebrows raised as he spoke. "Am I imagining things? I'm imagining things aren't I? Ah, but what if I'm NOT…"

"Dione."

His gaze snapped back up to Svarog again, wide yet weary eyes studying the robot's featureless face.

"Yes?"

Though he did not breathe, a sigh was an appropriate vocalization in the way of response from Svarog.

"Your stress levels have been accumulating exponentially within the timeframe of the prior 5 days. I believe self-evaluation is in order."

Dione blinked a few more times.

"So I'm… Imagining things?"

"I will not confirm or deny this claim."

This was a particularly odd response and both parties did indeed seem to be aware of it. It was now Dione's turn to provide a response via addressing the other in a particular tone.

"Svarog."

"Dione."

Both seemed to take a pass for their next turn to speak and thus it was silent for a moment.

"Something IS going on with Clara, isn't it? And by my deduction skills, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were INTIMATELY aware," Dione finally broke the silence.

"My request for a moment of introspection still stands."

"You're changing the subject."

The theme of a response each followed by a mutual pass continued, though this time it was Svarog's turn to break the silence.

"It is nothing you need become increasingly concerned with. Rest assured that Clara is well, and has requested you not press the issue."

"I WAS RIGHT!" Dione stood abruptly, pointing an accusatory finger. "You and Clara are up to something TOGETHER? Without me?"

Dione sounded almost heartbroken at the prospect, but only in that overly sensitive and minor way that wasn't worth being overly concerned with. And again did Svarog respond with a synthesized sigh.

"You have my word that it is something best left alone by you in particular, Dione."

"ME IN PART- Okay, now I HAVE to know! I'm your wife aren't I?" Dione pouted, bringing up the seemingly permanent game of house that had been put together to get Clara to trust Dione from the day they had met. The fact that Dione was bringing it up even with Clara absent meant he was pulling out any and all stops he could.

The longer Svarog paused, the more Dione's brow furrowed.

"Alright."

"Alright?"

Dione was genuinely surprised that Svarog had caved so easily, he had been prepared to go all out for this. He was almost DISAPPOINTED it had been so easy.

"In comparison to prior data, trying to dissuade you in such a state would prove futile. I will tell you, but you must promise not to tell Clara that you know."

"That depends."

"A formal request from your husband."

"Dammit."

It was just as effective whenever Svarog played house right back.

"Clara has been… Concerned with your state of being. Increased weariness and drop in mood and motivation in particular."

Dione frowned, looking down at his feet.

"Noticed that… has she?" he spoke solemnly before feebly attempting to cover his vulnerability with humor. "She's a sharp kid. Something you'd expect from a girl raised by a robot."

Svarog only responded with silence, to which Dione puzzled.

"So what's with her tiptoeing around? Is she trying not to hurt my feelings? Am I upsetting her?"

"She's been… Planning something for you. She… And I."

Once again, Dione was only able to express his surprise with his own silence.

"And what is… this something?"

"Is that a formal request?"

"From your wife."

"I see."

There was another turn of silence before Svarog continued the intermittent conversation.

"The details have not been pinned down, but… she wished to provide a genuine familial experience."

Dione looked even more puzzled now.

"Meaning..?"

"That I do not know the specifics. It seems she is still in the planning stage, but she specifically mentioned the Overworld."

"The Overworld? And you had no objections to this?" Dione questioned, pushing the glasses that had slipped down the bridge of his nose back to their proper position.

In return, he received only a nod from Svarog.

"But you… You HATE IT there. Or at least genuinely dislike it. Things may have improved between the Over and Underworlds but I can't imagine you'd be given too much respect up there." Once again did Dione's brow furrow, but more so out of perplexion as well as slight concern.

"It would only be for the span of a singular day and night. I have more important matters to focus my attention on than the respect of Overworlders," Svarog responded in no particular tone.

"Such as?"

"Family."

A blush made itself evident on Dione's face, not quite blessed with the lack of features that made Svarog so difficult to read.

"Right… Though, I have to ask, why one night? Why not just come home?"

"Clara has expressed a personal interest in the Overworld's own Goethe Hotel. Though I cannot personally grasp the importance, she has assured me it would be… Pleasurable by human standards."

Dione stared for one stunned second before snorting a giggle.

"Is that so? I can imagine it would be a fun experience for her at any rate. This may be for my sake, but I can't say I can refuse if it'll be enjoyable for her too. Because you know," he started before his expression softened, "seeing you both happy is enough to lift a bit of weight off my shoulders."

"That much is obvious," Svarog responded plainly, though it was clear it was meant to be playful in its own right.

"So she insisted on the hotel, huh?" Dione's expression returned to something playful himself.

"Affirmative."

"Alright, noted. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised if she insists on running off to visit Serval before bedtime."

"I'm afraid I do not understand the implication."

"I suppose you might see it my way once you see how nice those hotel rooms supposedly are."

"Noted."

[sapphire-weapon]

All the RE fandom proved while shouting at you was:

1. They have no game and don’t know what flirting looks like.

2. They don’t know what a hobby is.

3. The majority of the Twitter EagleOne side of the fandom are cowards and it’s pathetic.

4. They have a weird relationship with sex and need some serious therapy.

5. Aeon fandom is the second dumbest fandom I’ve ever seen. Absolutely the most self absorbed though. I can see why the rest of the RE fandom hates them. I do too now.

I also 100% believe you’ll be proven right in time. Thanks for having genuine discussions on characters and story arcs on your blog. I truly appreciate it.

The hobby one was really strong. I literally had to bury my face in a pillow to stifle the barking laughter that came out of my face because it was hella early in the morning, and my roommate was still asleep.

It wasn't as funny as the person who literally screencapped someone's tumblr post and circled a paragraph in it and tried to treat it like an objective source of fact that I was stupid for not knowing.

It also wasn't as funny as the person who, without a hint of irony, tried to pass off "Leon couldn't have hit on Ashley in RE4make because of what happens in the original RE4 and also RE6." as a legitimate argument.

And it also wasn't as funny as the person who wrote up and sent me a screenshot of a barely coherent rant in Notepad about how Leon doesn't really even like Ashley as a person, actually, and I'm delusional for thinking he does anything more than tolerate her, and it was steeped with outward misogyny and projection.

But it was still really really strong.

Like, I can't express to you guys in words how genuinely and truly funny some people were about this. It was like people watching at WalMart without having to leave the house.

I've heard that the EagleOne discord has turned on me, though, which is just. Wild. Anyone is free to come talk to me about this at any time, but I'm not going to apologize for Aeon fandom getting butthurt, and I'm also not going to apologize for telling the truth about the canonical nature of the ship. What Aeon fandom feels or does is not our responsibility, and we need to stop acting as though it is.

But here's my discord if anyone wants to take it out on me:

I'm at work, so I can't have an active, lively discussion ATM, but I'll take whatever hits the fandom wants to throw at me if it'll make them feel better.

I'm not going to stop talking about narrative devices, storytelling techniques, character arcs, or the usage of layered dialogue -- nor will I give it a rest pointing out literary allusions or the purposes and usage of cinematography, imagery, or symbolism. Too many people were not taught how to do these things in school, and if we let discussions like this die, we may as well all just become Aeon fans who buy into Leon's mafia backstory and give up on thinking all together.

Keep bringing your ideas here, friends, and we'll keep working through the narrative together.

[ps1demodisk]

Changing our username to escape the consequences of our actions, are we? You managed to get a whole server shut down because of your manipulative bullshit. I hope the people you hurt can find some comfort in the fact that you will die alone. Especially if you keep treating people like this.

You can’t even clearly explain what the people you went after did. No evidence, no screenshots, nothing. Just your lies and manipulation and petty bans thrown at anyone you don’t like.

At the very least, don’t be a coward. You owe many people a massive apology, although I don’t expect them to forgive you. God knows I certainly don’t.

Ok so I'm gonna try and take this seriously but I gotta be real "changing our username to escape the consequences of our actions, are we?" made me snort so hard coke came out my nose so I apologise for how shittily put together this is but god damn it's hard to get your thoughts in order when you're almost throwing up

Anyway maybe go ask the spy (because i know that's why it(i checked pronouns, its bio only lists it/its) followed, and i haven't blocked because im not trying to hide) who you sent to my main twitter account to verify this shit before you talk to me cause I told it "My profile is open, I only have hob blocked, I only changed my username because I felt disconnected from my old one. You don't need to worry about me trying to wiggle back in or whatever."

I never tried to hide, if I was trying to hide I'd have shut down all my accounts before changing my name, I don't want to hide. "You can't even clearly explain what the people you went after did. No evidence, no screenshots, nothing." Ok. I can't gather screenshots from servers I'm not in, I explained myself clearly as I could given the fact I still have not had anything explained to me outside of what one person told me and you guys for some reason don't care about that part of any of it so it doesn't help me address shit. The Doc I posted on my old nsfw is the best I could do with the lack of information. My only regret is that I remembered extra details too late to edit them into the doc.

You and the rest of them are essentially a group of highschool children, that's how you're acting. You whisper behind your hands to each other and claim to want to protect people from the big scary evil master manipulator [Kalista] but when someone asks you what I did you act like nothing happened unless it's someone you think will fall for your shit. I do not believe there's substance 99% of whatever you guys have against me that could justify the reaction on that fact alone. Not to mention how STILL, screenshots are shared of me having flashbacks to being RAPED, and you treat it like evidence I'm the devil.

When you guys want to be civil and at the very fucking least stop wishing death on me and sharing that screenshot (and again Hobqueer is fully aware i was having flashbacks, I told him the day after in DMs when he pretended like he cared) then you can come talk to me about how evil I am.

"Don't be a coward" go fuck yourself, Peachy. The call is coming from inside the house and you fucking know it. I know that's you. Don't tell me to stop hiding when you didn't even have the balls to send it off anon, probably cause you know "I hope the people you hurt can at least find some comfort in the fact you will die alone" isn't a good look.

Seethe, for all I care. Rot in your hatred, I welcome it. I don't see myself as a victim, sorry if that fucks up the narrative you constructed for yourself or others.

I have no desire to be in contact with any of you besides maybe two people who defo hate me but at least didn't say some unhinged top-of-bible-studies-class level shit, so like... you can "let go of hatred" now like you wanted to before. You don't have to waste your energy thinking up ways to make me feel bad, because it doesn't work anymore.

Should've tried this two days ago then maybe you'd have gotten more than a half-thought-out bait response.

[zeroducks-2]

To give a serious response to your last reblog, I think most people (maybe not the VOCAL majority) like to exclude tags they don't want to see, and then if something is tagged incorrectly you do just scroll past or stop reading the fic when something comes up. I know there are people who complain about it like it's the end of the world but yeah it is a common thing among most of my internet people to be like "aw man I didn't know [thing] was gonna be in this fic, I guess I'm gonna go read something else now" and I don't really see any problem with that. (As long as they aren't like harassing the author about it or anything obviously, which again I'm sure some people do and that's not cool)

Fair warning, this was supposed to be a quick response and it turned into a long ass ramble about purity culture and anti behavior, sorry about that. It is a long post so feel free to just skip to the TL:DR.

I agree with you, and as I mentioned I really really like the tagging system and the culture of putting content warnings and trigger warnings over content to help people avoid what they dislike and/or actively harms them. I like it in general, not just on AO3.

For what concerns AO3 I know that most people don't cause any kind of issue about it. I too had a situation where an anonymous guest commented to ask me to tag something in my fic. I hadn't thought about it because it was kind of just a vague mention but to them it seemed to be a big deal, so I apologized and added the tag (and they were really nice and polite about it anyway) and that was it. I don't mind people asking me to tag stuff. As an author I'm not omniscient and I don't have a team or even just an advisor to give a second opinion on my stuff, and tell me what I might have missed in the tags. So by all means do say it if you prefer this or that tag being added to my stories. I might have come off as someone who has issues with the tagging system and the culture around it, and I understand that it might be the case since my reblog was worded a bit harshly. I am sorry about that.

What I really was complaining about is people adopting anti or anti-ish behavior around fanfictions and fanfiction writers, acting like the fact that they come across content they dislike is the poster's fault when they're unable to curate their own online experience, and/or take responsibility as grown adults over the possibility of coming across something they dislike. At the same time holding fanfiction writers to absurd standards when it comes to laying out what their fics contain before someone engages with it, while it would be considered absurd to demand something like this from a novel, a movie, a videogame or anything non-transformative really. And not only there's the exclusion system on AO3 that helps people filter content they don't like, but also I want to highlight the fact that someone who is writing a fanfiction does not owe anyone anything in terms of tagging their stories. Tagging by itself is a form of courtesy that is not mandatory for most kind of content except the so called Archive Warnings, and even then you can avoid tagging anything by simply using "Creator chose not to use warnings" - which I'm sure you know means "this story contains potentially upsetting themes, proceed at your own risk". Most people will just politely ask to add tags, and most people will just tag their stories anyway. I very rarely ever came across a fic which was severely untagged to the point of making me wonder if the OP actually knew tags existed, and how they worked in the first place. I think it happened maybe twice and I've been reading fanfictions since AO3 didn't even exist. But there also are people who will harass the author if they didn't tag their fic "properly", and by properly it often times means that a character mentioned something the reader dislikes, or maybe a character they hate makes a very brief appearance, or there is a random OC created for a specific situation. Or anything that doesn't suit their tastes really, and that they demanded was laid out in front of them so they could avoid the gigantic effort of clicking on a story, read the first chapter and deciding by themselves if they liked it or not. These people are the ones who act like fanfiction writers and content in general should cater explicitly to them. Just check the comments of that post, you'll see an array of folks complaining that "authors do this on purpose!" and that who doesn't tag their fic properly is a terrible person.

There's this one saying that it's "so frustrating" and "really inconsiderate" on the author's part, referring to a fanfiction which has one of the characters genderswapped. Now I really, really dislike genderswap (nothing against it or against who likes it, but it really is not my cup of tea both in fics and in fanarts) and I generally stay away from it. But realistically, how long is it going to take me to realize that a fic has been written with one or more genderswapped characters? A couple of sentences? Maybe an entire paragraph? How "frustrating" is it gonna be to spend something like 3 minutes figuring that this story is not for me, and move on with my life?

It's not frustrating, and it's not inconsiderate on anyone's part. Sure I too would prefer it to be tagged, but it's a Me problem if I can't accept that I might end up seeing something I dislike on the internet, and it's not not a random fanfic author's responsibility to make sure I don't encounter something that makes me turn up my nose.

There is in general a lot of pressure on fanfic authors, in some fandoms more than others, and the whole "you have to absolutely nail the tags" conversation is another layer of said pressure. I know people that won't post longfics because they're unsure about the tags, especially of the fact that tags might change over time, and end up not posting at all. People deleting their entire fics over these kinds of demands because they can't meet them, because they don't know how their fic is going to change from here to the 15th chapter. People having to disable or moderate comments, take hiatuses, abandon fics - sure maybe the comment insinuating they were a bad person for not tagging "there's a random policeman OC in your detective AU" is not the main reason why they abandoned the fic, but it surely did not help.

This also leads to another phenomenon, which is that of over-tagging. Of people tagging rape/noncon "just to be safe", or tagging underage because "this character is 18 but there still is a big age gap", and the likes. That's not how tags work, that's actually how the tagging system gets bloated and becomes useless, because after the 4th fic which is tagged Rape and the rape doesn't happen, what often occurs is that the reader finds another fic tagged Rape and doesn't take it seriously. But in that one case the rape does happen and they get triggered, and it's an awful experience both for the reader and for the writer in case they get harassed over it (and this specific instance happened to me personally, because apparently the Rape warning on my story wasn't enough since the rape actually happened).

It's part of the reason why the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag exists and got so popular. If your story has some background/minor/past/mentioned/implied/referenced Thing happening, and you tag it as a Major Thing that happens, people who write stories which actually have Thing as a major topic don't know what to do, and end up using the Dead Dove tag which per se doesn't mean anything, it's just a way to say "MIND THE DAMN TAGS AND DON'T COME AT ME!". No one should feel forced to use the Dead Dove tag by the way. The Archive Warnings and the tagging system in general exist for a reason. If you're reading this and you've been harassed, just block the fuckers and ignore them.

So anyway, while I tend to be really irked by over-taggers especially when I'm looking for a specific kink, I don't really blame them. Purity culture kills artistic expression by making artists afraid of harassment if they post their work, among other things. I prefer an over-tagged fanfiction (or an under-tagged one) over no fanfiction at all.

TL;DR - I agree with you anon, I'm just mad at people who harass authors over tags. I don't think there's anything wrong with politely asking someone to tag their fanfiction, and if they repeatedly don't do it over major stuff that needs to be tagged, just block them and/or report them to the AO3 TOS.

[tinyperson00-venting]

Is there something about that just like- the second anyone comes home they just have to remind me I'm a fucking failure.

This kinda explains my last post, but also adding on

Yesterday my youngest sister and I were playing video games in her room before my other sister's choir concert, and we were finishing up and getting ready to go in like 10 minutes. My dad yells through the door to hurry up and get dressed and adds that he 'shouldn't have to say it 5 times', to which I reply with no malintent that 'It hasn't been 5 times'. And apparently that was like committing treason or something. He stomps off and starts curing me out to himself saying stuff like he's 'tired of dealing with my fucking bullshit' and can't wait until the day I finally shut my mouth and do what I'm told. It instantly put my back down and essentially triggered my constant voices in my head and involuntary disassociation.

Then today, I had a splitting headache all day and was still feeling like shit from last night, but managed to distract myself by finishing my book. My sister comes home from school and she has ,without fail, come down to my room to ask me about my day everyday since I switched schools. However, today she didn't even bother to come downstairs, instead she just sat on the couch upstairs reading a book. When my dad came home he didn't even acknowledge my presence, even when I literally came upstairs to say hi to both him and my sister. Neither even acted like I was there. The best part is that he said hello to my sister and my dog with me standing right next to him-

I went back down to my room, then sat in my chair to just think for a moment when I hear my dad coming downstairs cursing under his breath (loud enough for me to hear) and then like slams my door open and goes 'Have you brought Dakota (our dog) outside at all today!?' And I replied with a simple no, since it was pouring all day and she refused to even get up. He started yelling at me, most of which I don't remember because I was still in a sort of disassociated state, but he essentially called me a failure and said I need to start living up to my responsibilities.

I'm not entirely sure what it was, seeing as I literally haven't even broke a tear in months and months, but something snapped. About 5 minutes after my dad stopped yelling at me I calmly went into the bathroom, then just sunk to the floor in a ball and silently cried while threatening to throw up. My headache was still pounding at this time as well, which didn't help at all. I can't remember how long I stayed in there for, but I made sure to leave no trace or indication that I had been crying.

Now like 10 minutes ago, my mom came down to tell me to go to bed. She did her usual thing, then proceeded to bring up my 'to do list' for tomorrow. She said I would have to wait to do my chore of vacuuming the house until my dad got home because I 'wasn't doing it right' or some shit, to which I just like broke and said 'what do you want from me?? First you move me from my other chore because I wasn't doing it to your satisfaction, now you tell me I'm not doing this the way you want either??' And she just looked at me and didn't say anything. Then she brought up how I hadn't showered again today, and that I didn't eat most of my lunch or breakfast. She kept going on and on about how I wasn't able to properly take care of myself or the things around me and that I would never be able to live on my own in a few years. So again, essentially telling me I'm a fucking failure of a human being.

like, I know for a fact that my mom has caught onto my depression. She has asked me a few times as well, but of course I deny it everytime becUse I hate opening up to people. But like?? You know there's a reason I act the way I do. You know that what you say triggers me into disassociation. You know that what you and everyone else in this house seems to do has a clear effect on me. Yet you still do it. Even my sister, who has been the only one who seems to try and help or avoid triggering me, seems to have given up on me as well.

maybe I am just a failure tho. Maybe they all have a point, and I should just stop being such a fucking looser. I am this close to spiraling back into that suicidal mindset again like I was at the end of summer. And honestly I'm starting to think my family would greatly benefit from getting this dead weight off of their shoulders.

[blondrichclosetwitch]

[puppygirlsounding]

So it's been over a month now.

I'm pre-typing this. Going to drop this in your dms. I don't expect a response, and I'll take the hint and leave it at this if you don't respond.

I bet you still use your Tumblr, no idea if you still follow me because my list has been bugged for the better part of a decade. So If you saw some of my posts I'll be rehashing some things.

Long story short, Forced myself to be alone and completely lock away my emotions. I got so tired of it all I completely shut shop. Normally this would be the part where I'd admit how stupid and/or careless that was towards myself, my mental well-being, etc.

Except that it worked out somehow.

I still can't believe it myself, but it was like being compressed down into a new state of matter. Hitting rock bottom and realizing there was nowhere else to push the feelings, no one else to blame or use as a distraction. It made me finally come face to face with my self. My true, inner self and not the facade I've kept up for my entire life. A life of repression, anxiety and unmitigated hatred.

I spent 20 years basically trying to be anybody but myself because a handful of shitty people made me think it was a crime to exist. All of what I had been for the entire time you known me has been that pared down, sink water version. Too afraid of their own shadow judging them to be themselves.

And this isn't some "I totally re-invented myself nothing is wrong anymore lmao" level brainrot

I was still myself before, just incredibly neutered, and I chose to be that way for so much longer than I should have.

I still take responsibility for every way I acted and anything I've done

I'm finally able to say all this without it being run through a morass of epic irony or depression

I got to see myself for the first time, and show love inward so I can begin to regrow what was lost

So the past month has been crazy because of it, not hating every day you wake up sure does make time pass differently, it's felt like forever since we stopped talking, to the point I did a double take when looking at our dms

On a short list of notables, I came out to my coworkers as trans/bigender/genderfluid

Still.... Figuring that one out.

But my boss and trans friend coworker know, I have a support network for the first time.

I already naired all the hair off my arms once, and started displaying more femininity, as much as I can for now.

And I've stopped having my meltdowns and panic attacks.

I'm still as sensitive as ever, that is one of the things definitely still a part of me, it's just not being exacerbated by a roiling sea of vitriol tucked underneath the surface anymore.

So yeah, I'm not out here saying I'm some "completely new person" or something like that, but I am an incredibly different version of the Hunter you knew.

Which brings us to the topic at hand, and why despite all this positive change I haven't been able to bring myself to talk.

I'm scared

I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared.

Yes I felt the need to say it four times.

After learning to distance myself, resulting in finding myself. I realized a few days ago why I couldn't reach out to you like I had planned. At first I tricked myself into thinking I was mad. Made you out to be the problem in my head, because I didn't want to acknowledge I was being a coward. Because it hurts to look at flaws carved that deep right after coming out into the sun for the first time.

There are a lot of things that were said between us, I said some awful garbage. You said some things I want to believe we're in good faith, you trying look out for my best interests.

The fact of the matter is though, I lost it and lashed out because I was too afraid to address my real feelings and tell you how much you were hurting me unintentionally.

Doesn't excuse me trying to hurt you, but I'd I don't explain it this way I'll never be able to finish so just hang in there with me please.

So after all that, and the self discovery I was feeling great, cloud nine sublime.

But I still couldn't get over how we left off. Despite not being able to address it.

Because I learned the reason why socializing was so easy for me before was the fact that my love starved brain was primed to leap into the arms of anyone that would give it validation.

Now though, with the ability to self-actualize, love, and support my own mind... The thought of reaching out petrified me.

I'm finally learned how to not be a walking pipe bomb of human emotions after 25 years, but now the exact opposite was the issue.

I put distance between myself and everyone around me because the thought of putting myself back out into the world, and risking the little seedbed I had started was too much to handle.

So I'm telling you now, I'm scared. I'm afraid to even send this, and despite having my anxiety under control now, I'm still mortified about sending you this. Because I don't want to relapse, I don't want to go back. I'm starting over completely from scratch with my social skills almost, even the ones I can still use all have to acclimate to my new perspective.

The one where a potential friendship isn't all upsides, where I have to think about protecting myself first.

I still consider you the closest a person has ever come to really understanding me, and that means more than I could ever illustrate with words.

I've spent my whole life looking for it, and I don't want it to be a pipe dream.

I want you to be a part of my life as long as possible. I don't know if you could ever feel the same, but I'd spend an eternity with you if we could get us figured out.

That's it. Enjoy the novella. I'm going to go drown myself in chores now to try and feel better.

[traegorn]

What's happening here is that you're raging unproductively, and mistaking scoring points on people for an attempt to persuade them. Seriously, you can go back to your OP; there's nothing there that would ever land with anyone who doesn't already agree with you.

I fundamentally disagree with how you're choosing to read it.

There is no community and no solidarity in a voting booth, outside the mind of the voter. The people they imagine themselves in community with will never know what happened in that booth unless the voter tells them.

Society as a whole only exists because we decide it does. Solidarity and community are choices we make. Community is always self defined. You're minimizing these things because you don't seem to value them -- but social constructs are very real. The entire point of leftism is building that community. If you fundamentally disagree with the principles of it, I'm not sure why you're on my posts to begin with.

The idea that the vote you cast is somehow connected to their votes is of the exact same substance as the idea that a vote for Harris would somehow be connected to the children being murdered in Gaza.

Except that's not really accurate. Besides the fact that Harris is not actually in power yet and has no say over what our relationship with Israel is right now, I've never said that we still don't bear responsibility as a nation for what's happening in Gaza. Merely that we're stuck with a two party system, and based on what Harris and Trump has said, she's the one who will likely do less harm when she takes power in January.

I mean, as a white people living in North America, our entire lives are built on varying degrees of genocide. Heck, the device you're reading this on literally uses materials that came out of an active, ongoing genocide. Grappling with the moral complexity of that is something every one of us has to do.

The point is people need to stop centering themselves.

Which is not whether they care; it's whether they should act like their vote has the power to decide between the candidates, and whether they should act like it has power beyond that.

You honestly don't seem to fundamentally grasp the nuance behind the idea "My vote won't make the difference, but it will make a difference."

I'm done talking to you now.

If I have to explain the difference between morals and ethics to this condescending jackass like he's a college freshman, I'm going to tear my hair out.

[sixstepsaway]

Ed is my favorite character but I am also very much an Izzy Hands enjoyer and I am baffled by the "Ed is a innocent lamb uwu everything bad and mean about Blackbeard was Izzy but also Izzy is incompetent and Ed never needed him for Blackbeard at all!" sentiment I see. Like....? How do you reconcile that? Also Ed "doesn't kill" but we see him order a man to be flayed alive with a snail fork and then thrown overboard. We see that. Izzy isn't there. Izzy didn't "make" him do this, just like Izzy didn't make him cut off his toe, which happened hours after their fight, in a calculated response that took into account Stede specifically recoiling from the idea (there's something to unpack).

When they say Ed had people kill their pets, Ed doesn't deny it or in any way indicate it wasn't his idea. The entire plan of killing Stede and taking his place was Ed's idea, not Izzy's! Ed could have ordered him to stop at any time and he didn't, he didn't even have the stomach to watch Izzy stab Stede (I love the contrast between this and the act of grace moment), and people act like the whole murder thing was entirely Izzy's idea and desire and Ed is just a helpless bystander. Ed is the one in charge except when he can't or won't be, but he still wants things done his way, wants all of the positives and none of the negatives (who can blame him? We all want that. But Ed doesn't seem to recognize that isn't actually possible).

If Izzy is so diametrically opposed to everything Ed is, and just a horrible hateful little man, why has Ed kept him around? Why is he his first mate? Why does he trust him more than anyone else, and let him in more than anyone else, until Stede? Why does their relationship read like they came up together, like they've literally known each other decades, like there is a depth and history and so much nuance to the relationship and yet you have people acting like Izzy is just some guy assigned by the pirate temp agency to Blackbeard shortly before the show starts? That Ed doesn't have the authority to fire?

There's abuse and toxicity coming from both Ed and Izzy in this relationship, and we're seeing it as it crumbles. The fact that it crumbles so painfully and dramatically - along with just every single thing about the way they interact, I feel insane - speaks to there having been a foundation of genuine friendship and partnership and maybe even love through the years (there are so many ways to love, what Ed & Stede have is glorious but just one). They're both in crisis. Izzy is making horrific, hurtful decisions but so is Ed. Ed has been hurt by Izzy's actions but Izzy has been hurt by Ed's as well (I'm not even talking about the toe! I'm talking about the years of relying on Izzy and having him do his dirty work, with very little thanks).

Ed and Stede have protagonist bias working in their favor (see how so many people ignore Stede's casual colorblind racism and that he can only be funding this adventure through exploitation and violence) - they also had some tragic, traumatic back story shown on screen. Izzy didn't - do people think that means he doesn't have one? That he was just born like this, has always been like this for no reason? That isn't how humans work. Real or fictional.

Ed deserves to be happy, it's what I want most. I want him to heal. I want the same for Izzy. They're both struggling and in pain and nothing I've seen from either of them as fictional people in a romcom makes me think they're undeserving or unable to be redeemed.

Anyway I love your Izzy posts. Keep on keeping on. Sending this anon because I don't want my own haters haha.

All of this, anon. All of this. The Revenge and the rest of the Pirate World are two entirely different stages (up until the end of ep 10), and when they swap between those worlds, the rules shift and change. You go from Pirate Drama (ala Black Sails, for example) to Rom Com and back again. Because of that, pretty much everyone who joined the Revenge who isn't Stede is an objectively awful person in their own ways who have made their lives by killing, plundering, looting, even torturing. I think that's why I love them all so much, because they're being given the chance to evolve past that. It's almost like starting a series with an entire cast of villains heading for redemption. It's excellent.

If Izzy is so diametrically opposed to everything Ed is, and just a horrible hateful little man, why has Ed kept him around? Why is he his first mate? Why does he trust him more than anyone else, and let him in more than anyone else, until Stede? Why does their relationship read like they came up together, like they've literally known each other decades, like there is a depth and history and so much nuance to the relationship and yet you have people acting like Izzy is just some guy assigned by the pirate temp agency to Blackbeard shortly before the show starts? That Ed doesn't have the authority to fire?

omg anon this bit here i was nodding along ready to contribute my own thoughts and then i hit PIRATE TEMP AGENCY and i fuckin LOST IT. thank you for that.

But also I think one particular bit really stands out to me from the POV of their friendship. Two, actually, one less than the other so I'll start there:

the first one is that Izzy specifically sends Calico Jack after Ed. He knows enough about Ed's temperament, and about his relationship with Jack to know that Jack is absolutely perfect to drive a wedge not only between Ed and Stede but between Ed and everyone on the crew. And he DOES. It's an absolutely FLAWLESS plan up until the point they're in dinghy and Jack has to be a bitch and talk about Izzy. If he hadn't done that? If his jealousy, ego, bitchiness hadn't come out so strongly? Damn. That plan was flawless and Ed would firstly have never known about the English and secondly gone back to Izzy.

Because Izzy knew him.

But the bit I specifically wanted to talk about in relation to your piece up there is after Ed hits him at the start of Act of Grace.

First off; Ed only hits him. He socks him real good in the face but that's it! I subconsciously assumed he was testing to see if the English would stop him, and then would surge on with something new but no. He thinks Izzy has completely betrayed them, and he even says so to Stede ("He sold us out.") but all he does is hit him. He doesn't hit him then try to shove him over the side. He doesn't try to bounce him off the mast. He doesn't pull a knife! He just socks him once real good in the face.

And then comes what Izzy says after that:

"That's fair. That's fair. Remember though, you said when you made me first mate, 'above all else is loyalty to your captain'. You're my captain and I was never gonna stand by and let you destroy yourself for that... twat. And this? This is a humane way of ending this. It's quick, it's clean. Edward, you know that."

And oh, my god. I could go on about this line for days but I'll try and keep it brief: Edward is the one that told Izzy that above all is loyalty to him. Edward. Knowing what Ed is capable of, knowing the kind of shit he's done not only in episode 10 but also the skinning and god knows what else? Who knows how he instilled that into Izzy, that his loyalty is to Edward and Edward only. A lot of people think the X on Izzy's cheek is his signature, and fuck. Imagine if that was when he gave him that? Imagine if he literally tattooed his signature into Izzy's face because his loyalty is to Ed and Ed only. (If not that X, perhaps a Blackbeard brand under his glove? Who knows.)

Then, after that, he goes on to say he wasn't going to let Ed destroy himself. This isn't a betrayal, and I think the fact Ed doesn't kill him here, doesn't cast him off the ship at the end of episode 9, doesn't tell him to go fuck himself, proves that Ed doesn't think it's a betrayal either. Regardless of his feelings for Stede, the only time he thought it was a betrayal was when he thought Izzy had handed them all over hook line and sinker with no regards for anything but himself. Izzy did not betray him. Izzy, in fact, kept his pledge of loyalty.

And then finally, the humane way of ending this? Izzy's job is keeping Edward happy. Izzy's job is keeping Edward safe and happy. That's why Stede is, in that scene, about to die by firing squad, not in some gruesome show at Charlestown or whatever else might have come his way. I would lay bets that Stede dying quickly and as painlessly as possible was part of the deal Izzy made.

I would also bet that the words, "This is the humane way of ending this, it's quick, it's clean," was what Edward said about Fang's dog.

They're both in crisis. Izzy is making horrific, hurtful decisions but so is Ed. Ed has been hurt by Izzy's actions but Izzy has been hurt by Ed's as well (I'm not even talking about the toe! I'm talking about the years of relying on Izzy and having him do his dirty work, with very little thanks).

This! This! This! I also want to reiterate very strongly that we never see Edward actually tell Izzy what he wants. He says he wants to retire and he's going to kill Stede and take his place, but when he changes his mind he never actually says, "Izzy, I'mma be honest with you mate, I love Stede and I want you in my life too but I don't want to kill him, and I don't want to be Blackbeard anymore. I want a change." Or whatever way Edward would say those things.

Edward communicates with Izzy zilch, which honestly I think is probably how things have always gone. Edward half kills some guy then goes, "Oh, Izzy?" and walks off and it's up to Izzy to finish it off. One of his crew members does something? He scoffs and scowls and that means Izzy has to handle it. Izzy has had to learn to fill in all those spots that Edward can't or won't, and that's what he's doing throughout the show, but he hasn't yet been told that Edward actively wants these changes.

Hell, I'm willing to say that he thinks Edward is becoming not just something Izzy can't recognize but something Edward actively abhors. You don't tell someone to toughen up and kill their own dog because you like softies. Which begs the question of how much time Edward has spent actively trying to toughen up his crew and remove any soft sides, just to turn entirely into that soft side?

(Also, I'll be honest, I do not think that breakup robe!Edward should be his final form. He was not himself there either, and that's because he's so actively pretending that he's none of the kraken things that he was. He's almost imitating Stede, in a way, trying to hide his pain by being someone else. I imagine his final form will be someone very capable of violence, very capable of anger and being awful, but someone who also has a deeply soft side and cultivates a lot of love and trust from those around him, someone who will murder in defense of his loved ones, rather than just 'cause he can. Which, to me, is who he was when he was younger. He killed his father for hurting his mother, that's made abundantly clear, especially since we never see his father raise a hand against him.)

...they also had some tragic, traumatic back story shown on screen. Izzy didn't - do people think that means he doesn't have one? That he was just born like this, has always been like this for no reason? That isn't how humans work. Real or fictional.

Honestly yeah. I think that's likely what they think.

Which brings me right back to the fact Stede is very much an outlier. Oluwande says himself that him and Jim have no other choice. Do they think Izzy does? Who knows what his past is that led him to piracy, anger and repression at sea? Who knows what makes him so goddamn anxious about everything running Correctly?

And yes, I do read him as anxious. He hates the situation he's in because everything is wrong. Lucius won't do his job, no one does the things they need to do to run a ship, and he is actively seen as a villain in their lives by them when he tries to get them to be the crew of a pirate ship. He nearly got thrown overboard for making them work!

Ed deserves to be happy, it's what I want most. I want him to heal. I want the same for Izzy. They're both struggling and in pain and nothing I've seen from either of them as fictional people in a romcom makes me think they're undeserving or unable to be redeemed.

THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS!!!!! I want them both to heal, and Stede too!! Stede has so much trauma he hasn't worked through that colors everything he does (as illustrated by the fact this middle-aged man is bogged down and smothered constantly throughout the first few episodes by memories of being what... ten?)

Not to mention that a forced arranged marriage cannot possibly be anything short of traumatic (cultural arranged marriage being very different and depending on the situation etc, I'm not talking about modern arranged marriages, I'm talking specifically about the type Stede and Mary were forced into, and even more specifically their marriage). I don't think either of them were abusive to one another, but being forced to have sex solely by society and those around you to make children? Especially if Stede is gay not bi (which I read him as; gay), that's so... awful? It's basically that both of them had to agree to their own rape, almost? It's a really complicated and horrible thing and god knows what Stede felt after having to do those things with her, especially if he knew she wasn't into it with him either.

Anyway I love your Izzy posts. Keep on keeping on. Sending this anon because I don't want my own haters haha.

Thank you so much for the message because it was GREAT and your own meta was downright excellent. If you ever feel like de-anoning, feel free to DM me! And here, have another Izzy post! lmao hope you enjoy it

[splintergirl13]

Was browsing some of my old drabbles and came across this first draft of my short story A Bad Day in which Steve has to deal with Herobrine’s meltdown without knowing the reason for it (which turns out to be its because it's the anniversary of his banishment yay trauma!) So I thought I would post this little snippet, enjoy! Warning for language

-A Bad Day- 

Steve sat to one side of the couch. Arms folded tightly to his chest. An angry pout on his face.  Very slight. But there. 

Herobrine stood in front of him.  He had become increasingly desperate...and childish...over the past couple of hours. 

He wasn't sure what was with the demon today. But Steve had work to do, and Herobrine was delaying that work like an unruly child. He knew for a fact that Herobrine had hidden away his tools in his inventory where Steve couldn't reach them to keep him from going mining today. But Herobrine had flat out refuted the claim. Saying he wasn't sure where the tools could have gone and insinuating that Steve should take better care of his materials. 

What Herobrine did not know was that he was a terrible liar. Steve could see it all over his face. Herobrine had them. He was just making excuses. 

Steve finally had enough. He sat down on the couch. Folded his arms. And looked at anything but the demon. Completely ignoring him. If Herobrine was going to act childish, so would he. 

This clearly was not the response Herobrine had been going for. He desperately tried to make eye contact with the miner. Whining for Steve to speak to him. 

Steve pretended like he wasn't there. Much more interested in the loose thread on his curtains.

It didn't take very long for the demon to break. And with a wave of his hand, the materials dumped to the ground around him. 

"There are you fucking happy!?"

Steve didn't even acknowledge the act. Made no attempt to move at all.

Herobrine growled at this. "Go off and toil away at the mines alone like you wanted.  Go on. Go!"

Steve again, tried to look non interested. He was waiting for an apology. The demon had to learn that this wasn't right. That it wasn't the correct way to behave. 

The great demon of the Nether seethed, pacing back and forth in front of him. Growling and cursing. And kicked away the supplies. Eventually Herobrine curled on the ground. Knees to his chest, sitting up right. Back arched, head to his knees. Looking like a toddler having a hissy fit.  He grabbed at his hair. Breathing quickly. In and out. But still clearly trying to pull himself together. It was an odd display. 

Finally the demon unfurled himself off the floor and stood, shoulders slumped, head bowed in front of Steve. 

"I'm sorry."

Steve allowed him a look then. Staring up into those expressionless white voids. He kept the same disappointed look on his face. 

"T-That was wrong of me and I won't do it again."  Herobrine continued. 

Steve took in a big breath and let it out. And then he unfured his arms from his chest and motioned for the demon to take a seat next to him. He wanted to talk about this more. It was a good opportunity for the demon to learn and grow. 

But Herobrine didn't just sit down. No. He sat his butt down on the couch and then slowly lowered his head to rest in Steve’s lap. Eyes facing outwards. His arms held close to his chest. Legs curled upwards entirely on the couch, even though he had shoes on. Like he was trying to curl in on himself. This slightly worried Steve. 

So Steve rested a hand on his shoulder. "Brine?" 

One white eye peered back at him. Steve's heart stopped beating. It was filled with tears. 

"Brine, hey, what's wrong?" Steve moved so that he could run a hand through the demon's hair. 

The demon didn't answer. He turned away from Steve, his body quivering in his lap. 

Steve slowly picked up Herobrine, helping him move to a better position. And hugged the demon close. Placing Herobrine’s head in his shoulder. Wrapping a hand in his hair to press him close. He used the other to rub circles in the demon’s back. 

Herobrine huffed and shook against him. Steve felt the hot tears flow, collecting on his shirt. Steve rocked him. Cooing out soft encouragement. "It's okay. It's alright. Brine you're alright."

Eventually the shudders stopped and there was soft breathing against him. He pulled back slightly to find teary dull orbs.

"Herobrine... what's wrong?"

The demon hiccupped. Closing his eyes and burrowing into Steve's lap. He muttered out. 

"Don't leave me here alone... not today."

"Why not today?"

"I don't wish to discuss it." He shuddered. "Not now."

"Okay... is there anything I can do to help?"

"This."

Steve shifted slowly to make himself more comfortable and sighed. They would have to talk this through when the demon was calm. But for now...he just squeezed the warm ex god and ran a hand through his hair.

"Don't worry Brine. I got you."