#and thinks the way we talk about these things does in fact matter

[anotherbananasong]

Promises You Made to Me (2/4)

It’s time for Air to face the clergy alone…

“Nervous” doesn’t begin to cover how Air feels. The pressure from his corset barely comforts him. He’s had Earth at his side almost every moment, day and night, since they mated. Earth is his comfort; he doesn’t know what he will do without him. Earth accompanies him right up to the doors.

Earth: (running a comforting hand over Air’s chest) It’ll be okay, skybird. I promise, I’ll be right out here until you come out. I won’t leave.

Air: (eyes already beginning to water) I don’t want to…

Earth: (reaches up and wipes his tear) Remember, Secondo said not to let them see. (takes Air’s hands in his own, placing a kiss on his fingers) Promise me you won’t say anything that will send you back to the Pits. Okay?

Air: I promise.

As usual, the clergy is seated at their raised podium. Even with their size, the Ancients still have to look up to see them. And to Air’s horror, Sister is right there in the middle. He’s never been able to look her in the face; she strikes such fear in him that he can’t maintain eye contact. Had it been just the clergy, like usual, he may have been able to hold himself together a little better. But not with Sister actually making an appearance.

Sister: (after a disarming silence) This whole “kit” business… Whose idea was it?

Air: (heart sinks from his chest; he knows he was the first to bring it up. but admitting it would send him back to the Pits. and he promised Earth) …

Sister: (narrowing her eyes, satisfied with the discomfort she can see in Air’s glowing eyes) Don’t make this difficult, ghoul.

Air: (even worse, if he says anything that may put Earth in trouble, Earth may be the one going back to the Pits) …

Sister: (flicking imaginary dust from her sleeve) I’m your friend. You wouldn’t want to make your friend mad, would you?

Air: (feeling his lungs tighten with anxiety; he couldn’t answer even if he wanted to) …

Sister: (gives Air a long silence to build the tension) You want to tell me, ghoul. You know I have ways to get my answer. You don’t want me to have to take drastic measures.

Air: (looks down at the floor) …

Sister drills him for forty minutes, alternating between demanding he answer and leaving him in frightened silence. It’s effective, despite Air’s continued mutism. As he sweats where he stands, Sister can see that he’s weak. He’s always been the weakest of Secondo’s ghouls. She may not interact with him often, but she knows what will break him.

Sister: (after the forty minutes of Air’s silence) Tell you what, ghoul; we have a lovely room for you. You can stay there until you’re ready to talk to your friend.

Air: (Secondo said “don’t let them see”, but he can’t help the tears at Sister’s new threat. what does that mean?)

Sister: I’ll have someone take you there, and you can think about your answer. Take your time; I’m a patient woman.

Outside the doors, Earth is pacing. He can feel Air’s torment through their mating bond, but Air is closed off from the comfort and encouragement Earth is attempting to send to him through it. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but it feels like it’s been years. He finally sits on a bench and focuses on trying to reach Air through the bond, trying to send him a wave of his love. He almost jumps when the meeting room door opens, but his stomach sinks when it’s not Air coming out the doors.

Sister: (businesslike and matter-of-fact) Return to your dorm. He won’t be joining you.

Earth: (didn’t know Sister herself was in that room; no wonder Air was so afraid) What do you mean? What does that mean?

Sister: You don’t need to ask questions; you just need to obey.

Earth: What does that mean, he’s not joining me?

Sister: (tilts her head, giving him a glance over) He has to think about some things. He’ll be staying up here for now. Return to the catacombs, ghoul.

Earth: (rises from the bench) Why is he staying up here? He has to come back with me… Why is he staying up here? What are you going to do to him?

Sister: I said no questions.

Earth: (Secondo said to protect his mate… this isn’t protecting him) No, tell me. Tell me why he’s staying up here. What’s going on? You let him out of there. He’s coming home with me.

Sister: (treating him to one of her terrifying smiles as he approaches her) Don’t ask questions, ghoul; you’ll make this more difficult for him. Choose your actions wisely.

Earth: (considers a million things all at once) … (hisses in warning, a promise that he will retaliate if they harm his mate, and turns to go back to the catacombs. alone)

[em-harlsnow]

there’s a huge difference between the way frank and terry were as parents and i’m not just talking about the ‘levels’ of abuse.

so we see that frank has his ‘good father’ moments with most of the kids. we don’t see it with ian or lip, but we see it with the other kids. we see how carl idolises him when he’s young and thinks frank is trying to save him by shaving his head when frank said he had cancer. we see how debbie adores him when frank ends up in mexico and how frank completely ruins that. we see how fiona sometimes shares these moments with her father where you can tell she loves him and cares about him, no matter what he’s done.

and then there are the very few moments when frank does actually seem like a good dad. like when he took the fall for some of carl’s drug things with the police. and when he was sober for a week and making everything fun and happy. there are probably a couple more that i can’t think of right now.

but all that makes it SO much worse when frank fucks up again. it’s as if every time he does something shitty it’s a huge shock to everyone. you can see the complete surprise and devastation on fiona’s face when she finds out it was frank who called CPS (maybe she didn’t think he’d stoop so low, but still) and when he called out sean at her wedding. you can see the anger when frank ruined debbie’s school project and the shock for everyone when frank headbuts ian.

we know frank has been an awful parent for a while, based on fiona’s stories in court and ian’s stories about being locked in the basement, but every time it’s a bit of a horrible surprise because he does good things every once in a while. it’s so sad, because lip says that he didn’t know frank would go back to his usual shittiness when he got sober again when lip was a kid.

terry was very different though. we don’t know as much about how he was when mickey and mandy and the others were kids, but we know a little. so, terry was much more physically abusive than frank was, and had fewer ‘good father’ moments. therefore, none of his kids were surprised at anything he did. mickey isn’t shocked when terry brings svetlana round, he thought terry would actually kill him.

so it’s hard in a different way, because then terry will every so often drop in a little compliment. like when mickey says that terry was ‘proud’ when he caught a knife. and when terry tells mickey he could’ve been a good son. it’s these stupid compliments which leave the kids constantly begging for that positive attention no matter how awful he is.

the bar is at a constant low for terry, so the highs seem more amazing. for frank, i think the bar is at a low as well, but slightly higher because he’s not constantly abusing the kids, he’s more neglectful, and frank has more peaks in his ‘goodness’ which make him so much worse when he has the awful moments.

frank leaves his kids with hope for a good future when he’s sober, which is always disappointed. terry leaves his kids with a constant feeling of needing to be better as they strive for his approval.

frank is inconsistent, which hurts a lot, and terry is consistent with a few sick compliments about what should be considered bad behaviour in his kids.

i don’t know if this made much sense, but i wanted to blab about the different styles of abuse and emphasises the fact that frank is made MORE awful by the ‘good’ things he does for his kids, not less awful.

[derpydoteddrake]

Let's analyse the hexcore!

Its potential functions and powers, how it affect Viktor,

AND WHY IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE VOID

The hex cores abilities are a bit unclear, but I believe there's a clear progression of its corruption and a hint to how Viktor will use it. AND I SWEAR IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE VOID, shimmer didn't infect it. (This does not contain info from the le*ks in any form.)

Firstly the core does not influence Viktor, it is rather a vehicle for his obsession, his strange relationship to it began even before it consumed blood or even before it was built, he started seeing and hearing things after the council meeting. (I will talk about more why that happened and why at the moment in an analysis i make on him later.)

The weird purple flesh-like imagery begane before it even consumed shimmer, because it's not connected to the void, but it's what arcane magic looks like when it is contaminated with flesh. We can see this when the inside of his leg is shown.

Yes it already effected him in some way after the core absorbed his blood, as Heimer noticed he did become more energized, but most likely cuz its started attuning to him, jayce journal mentioned how crystals attuning to people but it isn't explained in detail.

Yes, the core started working more reliably on flesh after it got into contact with shimmer, but since the second time viktor tried to use it, it was not present. I believe what changed the core further was the consumption of more organic matter, not shimmer.

This is why it changed form the second time. The shimmer was only important as far as making viktors body malleable enough to get it working the first time. But that begs the question why it got more reactive and easier for it to change people?

I believe the answer to that is because, well it absorbed more of it, but secondly the writing on it got muddled, it is no longer programmable or bound by them like Viktor originally wanted it but works on its own accord. it is less controllable.

This is further supported by the fact that where it corrupts can not be bound by runes anymore, that's why his hand got changed not his chest, now it corrupts by contact and it became unstable enough that it does it with anything that contactach with it.

The only time the core actively does something to viktor is when he threatens it, and even now it only does it to his body. It began to have a mind of its own now, but beforehand it didn't show any signs of deliberately influencing him.

After skys death there's an odd shot of his leg, crackling with energie, I think that was foreshadowing of how he started to become attuned to the core enough to be able to channel some of his abilities and energie.

So I believe this is why Viktor was touching people in the trailer. Now it changes by contanc reather by being abel to restrict where it influences the body with runes. And now he is able to channel the cores power.

From this we can suspect that he will use the rod from his design to control the arcane energie already inside him, or to control the cores energie directly, because in itself it is uncontrollable.

And that's how he is going do lightning and possibly some magic.

[l0stfoster]

Paul anon here to say eeeeeeYEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE ME SOME CURSED PAUL DOODLES THATS MY SCRUNKLY BOY IM LOEHEVDJDGUEHE I LOVE PAUL HOLDEN

I wanna know more about the feather situation now tho ohhhh you got me intrigued ohhhh my goddddd

And paul just thinking and knowing hes the reason johnny’s in a wheelchair and that’ll probably haunt him for the rest of his life cuz now hes so associated with the greasers he probably knows johnny a lot better now and ohhh im gonna be sick . He probably has so many feelings about the shit he did b4 he was kicked out of the house ohhhh my sweet boy i love you so bad

Paul anon I hope you know you're an icon among the writers. Novva has previously expressed how much they want to put you in a jar and observe you (/pos)

As always I am so joyous that you're enjoying Paul here hehe. I've said it once and I'll say it again. Canon Paul can go kick rocks, Cursed Paul, on the other hand, needs a break from me. I talk a lot below so yeah another below the cut.

The feather situation was a little thing I'd thought about recently, since I've brought up to the writers before about how Two would eventually offer Paul a feather for flock marking, and Paul, by god, does NOT want the feather. Not only does he feel like he doesn't deserve it for what he's done; but it proves something about himself too- that he's getting attached. What the fuck does it say about him if he begins to connect with these people? It doesn’t help the guilt, that’s for sure. Two tries for probably months to get him to take it; literally days on end of offering and being ignored or shrugged off- finally, Paul takes it, but he doesn't wear it, nor does he keep it on his person. The only reason Paul wears it visibly for the first time is because god DAMN does Two pull off some REALLY good sad, pathetic bird eyes (and Dally looks ready to kill him for upsetting Two-Bit, so.)

He just gets so damn unlucky with the timing and circumstances surrounding it. Not only do the harpies already hold beef with him because of Two’s original jumping and the feather issue (most of them are clueless to the fact that Two’s forgiven him, while others are aware and have kinda chilled), but having a soc who’s harmed one of their own in their territory does not sit well with a majority of them, even all these months later; something especially impactful to the Shepard’s Gang. The second one harpy spots Paul with this feather, the immediate assumption is that he’d taken it just as he did with the first one.

I don’t talk about the Shepard’s all too much, but this is a good time to mention that Two and Tim are pretty good friends— so, well, he takes this as a matter that he can settle himself; and it’s a good way to warn this rich boy imposing on their territory that he’s on strike two of three, whether he’s one of the cursed or not.

Paul Gets Jumped, Part 2. It’s definitely not as bad as when the socs got him because, despite their gripes, Tim is half aware that Darry does gaf about this guy (he’s very out of the loop, and doesn’t even know the two are dating). As bad or not, it does freak Paul the hell out due to how familiar it felt to the first time he was jumped. That’s called trauma big guy, you and Johnny can bond over shaking like chihuahuas when you walk home alone. They take the feather away from him too, and you bet your ass he will NOT ask Two-Bit for another one because he doesn’t want him thinking Paul had purposefully disposed of it, especially with how often he’d been turning it down. This mf also ends not up being very fond of harpies outside of the ones he knows (ie; Two, Mrs. Mathews, etc) for a little while. Refuses to walk outside the house unless he’s got someone else with the gang. Two dive bombs on and grabs Paul while he’s walking home once and the entire East side loses power for like 5 hours lmao. Two was not happy when he found out about it too. Harpy: “Oh yeah we got this back from a soc while ago here" Two: Two: “-Isn’t that Paul’s?” Harpy: Harpy: “Th. The soc?” Two: “Yeah??? Paul??? Darry’s boyfriend?? This was his-“ Harpy: “I mean, he had it b- ohhh shit. You gave it to him on purpose.” Two:

Tim is very confused when a ruffled Two slams the door open and off its hinges at his house

Two, slamming the door open: “WHY WOULD YOU JUMP HIM WITHOUT EVEN ASKING ME ABOUT THE FEATHER????” Tim, half asleep on the couch: Tim: “..g’d mornin'?”

ON THAT NOTE Paul is,, so utterly haunted by both Johnny's and Two's disabilities, and that is absolutely not helped by the fact that they don't even seem to hold it against him. In Johnny's eyes, Paul wasn't the one who'd jumped him, resulting in him carrying the switchblade that killed Bob. He wasn't the one who held Pony underwater with the intent to kill. Two himself already knows that Paul didn't expect him to be burned as he was, nor was he the one holding the lighter. The blame the gang directs at him varies; especially when they see that the two who fell victim don't even seem to be mad about it. I think that a large reason as to why Pony throws his blame at Paul for Johnny is because, well, Bob's not around to take it. He's an emotional teen who's taking it out on the person he knows had some correlation to it. Besides, I think all of us know Pony blames himself for the church fire; directing that anger at Paul makes it easier to cope.

But yeah, Paul's practically eaten alive by the guilt. It sure as hell doesn't help that he already feels bad for being directly related to the witch that cursed Tulsa.

[fleshengine]

What happened to your friend does sound awful, but it doesn't sound like something that's actually unique to trans women. Someone making false claims after a bad breakup and people believing claims of victimization are fairly normal occurrences across the board, especially since people do generally believe it's praxis to believe all victims immediately. The fact that your friends came around in a matter of days is a better than average result.

Hi Velvet, I think this is the second or third time you've come on to one of my posts where I talked about transmisogyny and tagged it as such. Those posts don't get a ton of traction, do you just like... patrol the transmisogyny tag or something?

Anyway I do not feel a need to clarrify myself to you. But I will add that there were a lot of details that I didn't add to the post, stuff I will not be discussing, that solidifies my belief that it was an example of transmisogyny. I'm not at liberty to talk about some of it, and for the rest I honestly just do not care enough to defend myself to you. I lived my life and you read a rant about it.

That aside, do you know how many transfems I know who have been made out to be rapists/mentally ill after they broke up with their partners? Do you want me to list all the normal occurences across the board that have made me personally terrified to show others intimacy? Why is it that when someone says "that trans girl is a rapist!" people believe her but when trans girls say "we keep getting called rapists, this sucks" we get people like you telling us that it's normal to be made out into a charicature and systematically cut off from your entire social group?

Now that I've got that out of the way, let's dig into your word choice.

"What happened to your friend" this voice is so passive it's going 45 in a 50. "What that guy did to your friend" is much more direct and active, that's a sentence fragment that drinks orange juice with its breakfast. I probably would've accepted "what was done to your friend" because even though it's passive it still emphasizes that someone did something wrong. But you didn't even do that. Instead you completely removed the idea of fault from the equation, no one did it, nothing caused it, it was divine intervention that my friend nearly lost their entire support network.

"does sound awful" it doesn't sound like anything. It is awful, through and through. I hate the man that did it even though my friend has forgiven him.

"better than average result" average what? Messy breakup or transfem targetting rumor mill? It was a better than average result, I can attest to the average and it's not good. I'm glad I was there to sway people back to reality.

Moving on, you only addressed one of the two things I mentioned. I said "break up with a trans woman and unperson her" and "unperson any trans woman who's minorly annoying." You completely skipped the whole "a guy tried to tell people I was a gaslighter because I asked him to stop calling my friend a sociopath" bit. The post wasn't even saying that what happened was specifically transmisogynistic (it was), I was literally just talking about how stuff I was hearing mapped onto my life.

I also find it interesting, how you put this in an ask instead of a reblog. A reblog puts whatever I said on your account, an account I've heard you regularly use to support transmisogynists. I'm happy to talk to you more, genuinely I like to argue and you seem interesting enough. But I want what I say on your account. I'm not going to respond to another ask or reblog on this one until you reblog the original. Here I even got you a link.

[lavenderfieldsforvr]

feeling the urge to go on a whole ass whoopification speedrun with beetlejuice rn and talk about how he's not as bad of a person as most people seem to think he is. beware of spoilers cuz I will mention the sequel!!!!!!

he's a selfish, disgusting, low life creep, but he's not the murderous monster people assume he is. y'all are gonna have to hear me out on this one and that's okay, I've loved this character since I was a child, grew up with the first movie and the cartoon. you can call me biased because yeah I probably am. but I also love fucked up irredeemable characters.

he's not irredeemable tho. nor do I think it really matters if he is, the whole point of his character is that he sucks. but he sucks in a silly stupid way, a way that makes us love him.

people love to characterize beetlejuice as this horrific vengeful demon, and forget how inherently silly and wacky he is. in the first movie he doesn't even actually kill anyone (tho he comes close), and although we see him get angry with the maitlands he doesn't go on a terrifying torture spree or anything when he's out. his biggest crime is just being a selfish prick. (and being a horny bastard.)

I believe this even more so with the second movie, where he does almost nothing but be useful the entire time (and not even for his own gain, the idiot is just hopelessly in love), and the only bad thing he does is try to make lydia marry him again (to be fair yes she is the one who suggested it, it's just scummy cuz she was in need.) and even then he helps her despite the fact she never keeps her end.

he even helps delia when she asks. and you can chock this all up to he's in love with lydia and would do anything for her, to which I agree, but he's still done more good/helpful things in the span of both movies than he has bad. he's not a good person, his sense of morals are skewed at best nonexistent at worst, but is he a raging murderous monster who would eat the souls of two hundred children if given the chance? no I don't believe so. he just wants to give some people nightmares for a week then go have a nice fuck on a tropical island.

overall he seems way more interested in pulling wacky shenanigans than actually hurting anyone (most especially lydia), and that's something important to me personally.

[merwgue]

Okay, but can we talk about how Nesta is so autistic-coded and the Inner Circle is just... completely missing the memo? COMMING FROM AN AUTISTIC PERSON🥳

Look, I’m not saying Sarah J. Maas intended to write Nesta as autistic, but come on. You’ve got a character who struggles with social interactions, needs her own space to recharge, has intense, specific interests (ahem, reading), and who’s constantly being misunderstood by the people around her. If that doesn’t scream autistic-coded, I don’t know what does.

1. Social Interactions? Nope.

Nesta’s social skills (or lack thereof) are a big flag. She’s always being criticized for not fitting in, not behaving “the right way,” or not being all warm and fuzzy with everyone. Sound familiar? People on the autism spectrum often get labeled as “cold” or “aloof” when in reality, they just don’t vibe with the social expectations around them. And what do the Inner Circle do? They constantly expect her to be like them instead of trying to understand her on her terms.

Feyre’s over here like, “Nesta, why are you so difficult?” And Nesta’s probably thinking, “I literally just need some space from all you over-hugging, over-talking, too-much-energy people.” But instead of giving her the tools to communicate or cope better, they just drag her to a cabin in the woods. Sure, lock her up. That'll definitely fix everything.

2. Sensory Overload, Anyone?

Nesta’s reactions to stress and overstimulation are spot-on. The whole time she’s in the Night Court, it’s just noise, noise, noise. Between Feyre’s incessant meddling, Cassian’s loud warrior energy, and Rhysand being... well, Rhysand, it’s like Nesta’s surrounded by sensory overload. So what does she do? She shuts down. Classic move when the world is too much.

But does anyone ask, “Hey, maybe this isn't about her being rude, maybe she’s just overwhelmed?” Nope. Instead, it’s more like, “Nesta’s broken, let’s force her to train and socialize until she magically becomes like us!” Not how it works, guys. Not at all.

3. Obsessions Aren’t Just a “Phase”

Nesta’s love of reading could be seen as a deep special interest, which is a common autistic trait. And yet, what does the Inner Circle do? They act like it’s some sort of escape or avoidance mechanism rather than a source of comfort and grounding for her. Of course she’s going to retreat into books! They make sense, they don’t demand anything from her, and they’re not trying to change her every two seconds.

4. Bluntness? It’s Called Honesty.

Nesta’s “rudeness” is really just brutal honesty. She doesn’t sugarcoat things. And why should she? In her mind, it’s more logical to say things as they are. But the Inner Circle constantly misinterprets this as hostility or coldness. Why? Because they’re all about emotional theatrics, and they just don’t get someone who communicates in a more direct, matter-of-fact way.

5. Let’s Talk About the Whole “Locking Her Up” Thing

So, Rhysand’s big idea for dealing with Nesta is basically to isolate her in a house she doesn’t want to be in and force her to follow his "recovery" plan. Yeah, because forcing someone who is already struggling to conform to your idea of healing works so well. The whole thing feels like they’re punishing Nesta for not fitting their mold. It’s like, “Nesta, you’re not behaving the way we want you to, so we’re going to fix you.” Cue the eye roll.

What They Should’ve Done Instead:

Instead of forcing Nesta to be like them, maybe — just maybe — the Inner Circle should’ve, oh I don’t know, accepted her for who she is? Maybe they could’ve recognized that she doesn’t process the world the same way and that’s okay. Give her the space she needs, stop trying to mold her into their version of “normal,” and for the love of everything, stop treating her like she’s broken just because she’s different.

Maybe Nesta just needs some sensory breaks, a quiet space, and people who actually listen to what she needs. Instead, she gets dragged through the mud, labeled as a problem, and forced into a version of recovery that only works for everyone else.

So yeah, the Inner Circle missed the memo — and that memo was: Nesta’s not the problem; their complete lack of understanding is.

Ty @fenrysmoonbeamswife for the idea!!! I loved your posts pookster

[fantasiac]

Incoherent Shadow Hedgehog Rambling

sonic games have never felt like they were adding on to the previous games story before, they always just felt like they're own thing, you could always connect the games together, but it never really felt like one game specifically came after the other, heck, even sa2 feels like a separate thing to sonic adventure 1.

but guys... THATS CHANGING!!!

sonic frontiers specifically feels like it comes after forces, it was the first one that I played that I went "oh, because that thing happened in the previous game" (sonic talking about classic levels doesn't count)

and guys...

Dark Beginnings feels like it comes after SA2 in story!

of course everything with Shadow logically came after SA2s story, but this is different, this feels like a continuation to that story, more than anything else ever has

the moon is broken as if it always has been, and Gerald possibly being alive making shadow go and search for him and answers is a perfect sequel to SA2s story, no matter how long its been in canon between SA2 and now

also talking about Gerald, Sonic Movie 3 makes it clear that Gerald is alive in the movie universe, everyone collectively went "wait, but he's not alive in the games", what if he IS!!

what if he's alive, this actually feels like it adds on to the stories of the games, this is so cool!!

and what's even cooler is the fact this is (probably) going to become the new normal (we all know sega), games with stories that go beyond games the way Marvel does, and I'm all here for it, games that establish a set canon, instead of doing whatever the game wants for however long the game is, without consequences, a set canon, it seems the main race of creatures are the Anthros / Mobians, but humans do exist because Eggman, and now X Generations has Maria and Gerald back, they actually fit into the game's style, they look like they're designed the way Eggman is, and it's really cohesive and I LOVE IT

also I think Dark Beginnings is a prequel to shadows campaign in X Generations

also also I think it's funny that Gerald is voiced/played by the same person that plays/voices Eggman in all continuities this year lmao

[foundfamilywhump]

i get where ur coming from but i feel like “carewhumper” does just designate a specific type of abuse. my understanding is that a lot of real life abuse does encapsulate cycles of cruelty and kindness but whump is not a 1:1 w real abuse and so the cruelty tends to be exaggerated and constant. which is why it might be useful to have a distinction between purely sadistic and harmful whumpers w ones who seem to contradict that role and show some form of affection or intimacy. i think this meta is very interesting though id be interested in the other people who voted “no” in that poll and i appreciate ur commentary 🤔 do you think its actually dangerous?

i'm gonna start by providing some context about my relationship to these terms: to my understanding, words like 'whumper/caretaker/whumpee' are situational shorthand that describe a character's role in the scene or story being told. they are not all-encompassing, all-descriptive, and prescriptive of every action a character referred to this way takes. i do not know where the idea that they are supposed to be flat, reductive, 'this word means this character is All Good Or All Bad All The Time and they behave x way 100% of the time' came from, and i do not agree with it. that's not how i use those words, and it's not how i've ever perceived the intent of those words to function in the broader whump community.

that said, here's why i don't think 'carewhumper' is a distinction between 'purely sadistic and harmful whumpers with ones who seem to contradict that role and show some form of affection or intimacy', at least not the way i use these words, and why it's not a word that i will ever use or like. and why i think it's not necessarily dangerous per se - that's a strong word - but it is something i think plays into some harmful societal narratives about abuse and abusers.

you're right that whump isn't a 1:1 with real life abuse, and i definitely am not operating under the impression that it is or should be! there are a lot of extremes in whump, that's very true. but it's also true that the extremes aren't the only thing that exist, and they aren't the like. default setting of what 'whump' or a 'whumper' is. they might be to some! but i don't think that's the default for everyone, or even the majority. and i don't think a whumper behaving kindly sometimes makes them... not a whumper anymore. the way that 'carewhumper' as a term implies.

there are a lot of issues in real life about people thinking ‘oh so and so would never abuse anyone, they’re so kind’ or pointing out that an abuser cared for you when you were sick or something so it couldn’t have been ALL bad. abusers themselves point to their acts of kindness and care to confuse victims and excuse their behaviour. oh you can't cut that person out, what about all they did for you. oh you can't throw away your family/relationship, what about the good times. etc. they weren't All Bad. they didn't intend to hurt you, their intentions were good. these are things real life abuse victims, myself included, deal with on a daily basis.

obviously fiction is not responsible for this, but it can play into it. and when the term carewhumper comes up it really feels to me like something taking a really flattened, reductive concept of a whumper (who is bad and cruel all the time forever and intends to be) and a caretaker (who is good and kind all the time forever and intends to be) and saying ooooo what if it were ~more complicated and nuanced. when like… there are posts about intimate whumpers, manipulative whumpers, whumpers who show kindness, all the time. they don’t need a special word to contain that sort of variation. they all follow a common format of '[adjective] whumper' to denote a specific subtype of whumper. 'carewhumper' not only bucks the trend of how specific subtypes of whumpers are designated, but it combines that with another specific role that is not the whumper, as if to imply 'oh but they're not a whumper. they're Something Else. because they're nice sometimes. or they didn't mean to hurt someone on purpose (as if that is at all relevant to whether or not they did)'

and I don’t think it’s true at all that ‘whumper’ is generally accepted to mean someone who is only violent all the time. whump ISNT a 1:1 with real abuse but the way it’s discussed can mirror that, and saying that the presence of care or affection somehow moves a character into a category that isn’t a ‘pure’ or ‘total’ whumper but instead is something else - something mixed with a role that is shorthand for a positive, caring presence, not interpersonally and diagetically but narratively - makes me personally very uncomfortable as an abuse survivor in the whump community. it's mixing the roles of caretaker and whumper in a whump narrative when those roles are, BROADLY SPEAKING, meant to convey 'this is the person causing active harm' and 'this is the person whose presence is meant to contradict/combat that harm and promote healing and safety'.

caretakers can fuck up. caretakers can be complex and nuanced and angry and imperfect and busy and tired etc etc etc. that doesn't somehow make them not caretakers, though i know there are a bunch of people who for some reason insist the mere act of calling a character a caretaker is somehow reductive and dehumanizing and making their whole existence revolve around the whumpee. falling again into the idea that these words are meant to be concrete intrinsic character Types and not a situational shorthand for a role they are fulfilling in a specific story so that you don't have to explain in every single generic post who tf this person is. caretakers being imperfect or not all helpful or all good all the time doesn't make them not caretakers or not a positive force in the story. the same is true for whumpers. someone who punches you in the nose and then cleans up the blood and tucks you into bed is not somehow less violent and cruel than someone who stops at punching you in the nose, and implying that they are or that their acts of care somehow meaningfully dilute their violence and cruelty is deeply, deeply troubling to me. 'whumper' is not a nuanceless term unless you make it one and i don't know why you'd want to make it one.

and 'carewhumper' to me is not describing the complicated feelings a whumpee might have to a whumper who displayed kindness, either. because these words are not referring to diagetic interpersonal relationships. they describe an external meta-narrative role that a character is fulfilling within the perspective of the story being told. a whumpee having complex feelings about a whumper doesn't mean they aren't a whumper anymore.

there are plenty of posts around about whumpees feeling complex things about whumpers - missing them, loving them, trusting them, being devoted to them, etc. the ‘carewhumper’ thing is just to me at best superfluous and annoying to the part of my brain that is like. that’s just a whumper with a particular type of tactic and there’s no special word for any OTHER kind (captivitywhumper? superwhumper? etc?). and at worse it’s actively conveying the message that ‘if someone is sometimes not completely violent and cruel 100% of the time then what they’re doing isn’t actually As Bad and they’re not - NARRATIVELY SPEAKING - the Bad Guy. they’re ~nuanced and complex. as if everyone isn’t. as if that can undo the harm they did.

again, im not the cops im not anyone's mom. i hope i dont come off sounding aggressive or like im trying to police what anyone is writing about. i don't judge anyone writing dark things or writing about common abuse dynamics - me of all people lmao. i am 38k into a fic right now about rape and abuse that is pretty graphic and deeply deeply upsetting and triggering. but what i do care about is the way that these things are talked about. i do think it matters when these implications are popularized uncritically, and i think that 'carewhumper' is not a good term, especially if people are intending to merely convey a type of whumper and not a character who isn't 'wholly' a whumper at all. if that's what people mean, i would suggest affectionate whumper, intimate whumper, manipulative whumper, etc. something that aligns with other language commonly used to refer to specific subtypes of whumper rather than directly implying a different category of role altogether, and one that mixes that role with something that is generally accepted to be positive/good.

[straightlightyagami]

you know until relatively recently i thought i'm at least like.. noticeably above average appearance-wise, i took it basically as a given since i was a little kid. but then i realized i'm actually ugly as fuck and nobody would ever pay any attention to me or find me good-looking or hot or whatever and i will be alone forever and die alone. so.

[autism-disco]

sometimes i think i’m a fully proper binary guy. and then i think about gender for a minute too long and

[starlooove]

What material gain do we have an LGBT community? Do you ask trans peopel what they materially gain from exclude cis people? Do you wonder why we have gay spaces?

It is BECAUSE of the current politcial landscape we should stop catering to our oppressors. Because a cishet person who happenst o ont feel sexual attraction demanding lgbt space, resources, support is in fact an oppressor.

Who is the real bitch here? The cishet making demands of those they oppress or the oppressed?

I said it in the tags last time but comparison answers don’t do much here because the question I’ve been asking is specifcally about ace/aro ppl in relation to the community. I wanna know what exactly excluding those specific people provides for the community. What resources, space, and support are they taking? I want to know the real negative impact they specifically cause that makes this amount of vitriol valid to you. Does it matter if you can’t even answer that without making comparisons to other members of the community? Is it that serious if you can’t provide physical issues they’re causing that’s not a vague “they’re taking resources.”

And not to be mean but if you’re the same anon you’re still very clearly the bitch here like between you getting that mad and a hypothetical “resource thief” I think the answer is lowk obvious

[theghostofashton]

.

[tonycries]

FIVE! - C.K.

Synopsis. Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader 

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, unprotected, bréeding, Choso with rings + a tongue piercing, creampíe, mentioned kids, cúmplay, he goes feraI, oraI (fem receiving), Itadori family shenanigans (mild spoilers for unc-kuna), overstím, fíngering, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Will I ever write a Choso fic without the Itadori family? No absolutely not.

4:37PM.

“Ooo, Cho can we check that place out?”

And, listen, just because Choso would give you the moon right along with his heart doesn’t exactly mean he’s jumping with joy when he follows your gaze to that gaudy little shop tucked away in a corner of the mall. Flashing a loud, glittering sign reading, “FORTUNES: FIND YOUR FUTURE!”

Traitorous memories flash through his mind with each step you drag him closer. Of all those fortune shops he’d frequented years ago, trying to figure out whether you’d say yes to a date - before even thinking of actually asking you. 

He won’t ask anything, Choso reassures, stepping through the heady, curtained doorway. Probably not anything, he’s musing, pulling out his wallet to pay for your session. Well, maybe some things, he concludes, eyeing the sprightly old woman that takes a seat opposite you two, peering down at her dramatically large glass ball on the table. 

But that doesn’t mean he’ll-

“Babies.”

“Huh?”

“Yes.” the woman gives a solemn nod. “Five of them.”

Both of you let out a squawk of surprise, much to the amusement of the fortune teller. And Choso can feel his palms getting sweaty against your own as he manages to croak out a low, disbelieving, “Five?”

All but toppling out of his seat in suspense as she takes a moment to scrutinize her orb once more. And, surely glass balls can glitch, right? Mix up fortunes or something? Because while he knows you’ll be by his side in this life and every other one after - kids were a whole other responsibility that neither of you had talked about, yet.

At least, that’s what Choso was trying to convince himself right before the woman lets out a thoughtful hum, “Well, you-” pointing a wisened, accusing finger right in his flushed face. “-want more - about eight - but, of course, your future wife says no.” Gesturing to your giggling figure, “Honestly, young man, learn to keep it in your pants, the poor dear!”

Shit, he was going to run away, do something to end up on the national news - and judging by the way you squeeze his hand, you could tell, too. 

Subconsciously, Choso’s eyes scan the wall for any hidden cameras, wondering what type of strange prank this was. It had happened once four years ago - and just-so-happened to be what made him give up and finally ask you out - but, hey, it made for a pretty great first date story, right?

Finding none, he sighs, barely opening his mouth to ask before she plows on, “And of course there’s only so many your uncle can piggyback at once, right? No matter how much that grump says he doesn’t like it.”

Right.

Of course.

Oh god, he thinks he could faint. 

Choso doesn’t dare say anything for the rest of the session, nor does he look directly in your eyes. Save for that one time to admire your delighted laugh when the fortune teller prattles on about how your kids will “fight his needy self for your attention.”

Not until the two of you are stepping back out into the too-bright mall, your fingers intertwined with his, voice sweet in his ear as you continue with your forgotten mission to find the good brownie mix for the family dinner tonight. 

“Eyes like yours and hair like mine.” You sigh, repeating what you’d heard mere minutes ago. Hooking a finger subtly into his belt loop, smirking, “Sooo, five, huh? You’re this worked up over that?”

“N-no.” Choso replies hastily, but the heavy gulp he takes is a dead giveaway he can’t stop thinking about tiny combinations of the two of you running around. Face too-hot, hands jittery, brows furrowed as he decides for the second time in his life that, yeah he’s never stepping foot inside a fortune shop again. 

You notice - of course, you do. 

Especially when he pulls you into the nearest changing stall, knuckle-deep inside your drenched panties, rings cool against your cunt, lips kissing at your throat. Ignoring your teasing complaints about “getting late”, despite how you’re letting him have his way. 

He feels the vibration of your voice under his hot tongue, laughing - even when he gives your pretty clit a little pinch. “Five.”

And through it all, he can’t help but think - hypothetically, of course, that he hopes they all have your laugh.

---

7:16PM.

Honestly, the one thing that made the Itadori residence more of a home to Choso was having you there. Even when you’re standing with him outside the front door, letting out a sigh as you glare at your sad excuse for brownies.

“Ugh, Cho, we totally burnt them.” you grumble up at your boyfriend. “Your dad is gonna hate it and Sukuna’s gonna make fun of me and-”

“Sukuna can try.” Choso hits the doorbell once more, sure that the ruckus inside was too loud to even think over. “And he probably will.” Before turning back to your adorable pout, and ah he can’t stop himself from cupping your face, smoothing over that furrow in your brow. He leans in to give your lips a chaste peck, “But, he’s still gonna steal some. N’ dad’ll love it, and you already know gramps is gonna sneak in some even though his doctor told him not to.” He’s getting out through kisses, pulling your giggling face closer to his. “And we’ll be lucky to get any before Itadori inhales them.”

He ends his little speech with a slow, lingering kiss. Sliding his soft lips across your now much happier ones. Dancing a hand down to pull your hips closer, murmuring throatily, “N’ most of all, I’m gonna love ‘em, baby.”

You gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pressing just at the hem of your panties through your dress, “You’re- you’re too much.” You hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. “But, the brownies really are-”

Slam!

“Yeah yeah, Jin, the brats are finally here, jus’ fucking on the porch!” 

If there’s anything Choso’s learned from all the times you’ve had dinner with his family, it’s that 1. Yes, the brownies - as burnt and questionable as they were - will always turn out to be a hit in the Itadori household. 2. You were really, really too perfect for your own good, even amidst the chaos. 

“Oh no, let me.” you flash Jin a beaming smile, taking over the well cleared-out plates to the kitchen. Only to be followed by an enthusiastic Yuji almost tripping over his own feet to help you out. 

“You got a good one there.” Choso snaps out of his soft stare to whirl around at where his grandpa was seated next to him. He tips his head over to where you were chattering animatedly with the younger boy taking your load of dishes. “Real lovely. Though, the desert I’m assuming you helped out with.”

Jin pipes up, “Bah! I thought that liquorice was great.”

“They were…brownies.” Face burning, he stammers, knowing full well that you were the one that forgot them in the oven. “And uh y-yeah, you got me…”

And, of course, because it’s a family dinner, Sukuna has to lean over to rile him up. Interjecting teasingly, “Then you best wife that cute lil’ thing up before those baking skills of yours make ‘em run off n’ find someone that can bake.” He smirks devilishly, eyes flitting to the view of the kitchen, “And…”

“And?”

“-is fuckin’ great with kids, too.”

Several things happen at once - the words are barely out of Sukuna’s mouth before he’s being swatted over the head. Hard. After all, being the nicer of the two doesn’t make Jin Itadori forget his roots as the older brother.

And Choso’s jaw is dropping into a soft oh! Not at the unusual display of strength, no, instead it was at the heavenly scene before him.

He swears, the lights grow just a bit brighter and the world becomes a little rosier at the sight of you teaching an eager Yuji the correct way to scrub strainers. Gently guiding the boy until that confused furrow between his brow disappears. “Yeah, just a bit more on the side and you’re done!”

He gives you a very soapy high-five, “You’re literally a lifesaver, Kugisaki was just making fun of me for this the other day.” Moving onto the rest of the workload, “‘Can’t do shit’ gonna show her, seriously. Thank you mom- uh-”

Yuji freezes. You freeze. And it seems that everyone in the world might’ve frozen, except for Sukuna who was still rubbing that bump on his head. 

And you, of course, promptly cutting off the flurry of apologies that looked like they were about to burst from Itadori’s lips. Smiling at the flustered boy softly, “Well…good job, Yuji.” you bump his hip. “And now onto the blender.”

“AW, MAN.”

Suddenly, everything was normal again. Except for Choso - definitely not Choso. 

Mom? 

So utterly, completely not Choso when everyone’s still talking downstairs, and he’s not. Making some cheap excuse about a ‘bathroom break’, which really didn’t explain why he covertly drags you behind him by the hand. All but shoving you into his childhood bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as he could without alerting anyone of your tryst. 

“Ch-Cho-” you squeal when he pushes you against the wall, dropping down to his knees with a fervor that makes you wince. But if it hurt, then Choso doesn’t show it - doesn’t show anything but pure need when he bunches your dress up at your waist. Soft tongue darting out to glide along your drenched slit, “What’s gotten- hngh- into you?”

The only response you get is a murmured growl of something you can’t bother deciphering. And he doesn’t give you any other, either - sluggishly nudging away your panties to admire your glistening cunt. 

So close. Just hovering over your puffy folds, smiling at the way they only get wetter at his hot breath, “Five.”

Too close. Glossy pink lips falling slack to wrap around your clit and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Though, it was more of a bang. And an even louder voice from outside, “OI, you brats better be decent, gramps found some dusty old albums n’ wants you two down.”

---

9:02PM.

“Awww, this is from his first fight with Yuji- yes, Choso so what if I took a picture?” Jin excitedly points to a photo on the page, “Yuji was the one with a bruise, but Choso was the one bawling.”

You titter at the glossy picture, a confused-looking Yuji as a toddler, being smothered by his older brother in a hug - big, fat tears running down his pouty cheeks. Adorable. And somehow that encounter with the fortune teller today rings in your mind - wonder if your kids would have those same eyes?

“As cute as ever, huh?” your gaze dances across all the gems of childhood on the page. 

“Disagreed.” Sukuna leans over, no matter how much he’d like to pretend he wasn’t interested in these albums. “Look how attached the lil’ anklebiter used to be.” A painted nail pokes at one of Choso on his uncle’s shoulders, tiny fists happily gripping onto pink hair - much to his disgruntlement. “And then I look over at him now and-” He glances over at the man in question, very much unamused. “Well. That’s disappointing.”

Choso rolls his eyes, “What’s disappointing is how you’re this old but still can’t find a-” 

“Ooo look this is from when he’d run away during bath time!”

That album is snatched so fast out of Jin’s hands that you wonder whether it might just be your imagination. But you look over at a red-faced Choso, seeing him hold it way above your heads. Muttering out a hasty, “I think that’s enough photo time.”

Amidst the collective groans of disappointment - even Sukuna lets out a low huff, you hadn’t gotten to those ugly matching Halloween costume pictures yet - only Yuji speaks up, “Do you think I’d be like that, too?”

Sukuna scoffs, “What? An emo bastard? Might just work out for ya, kid, the dumbass look isn’t doing you any favors.”

Yuji juts his chin in indignance, “No- we already have Fushiguro for that.” Tilting his head over to the album still tight in Choso’s clutches. “Do you think your kids would like me? Would I be that cool favorite family member?”

“No way, brat. It’ll be me.”

Choso’s grandpa also chimes in as well, “Huh? No, I’d be the favorite.”

“Gramps-”

“Says who?”

“DISRESPECT TO YOUR ELDERS!”

“Hey!” Everything turns to Choso, startled at his sudden outburst. Tension crackling as he pokes a thumb at his chest, “I’d be their favorite. For all five of them.”

And you knew a fist or two to be thrown, hell, you half-expected the album to be used as some type of weapon. Because before you knew it, Sukuna was on Yuji, and both Yuji and Choso were on Sukuna. Falling to the floor in a tangled pile while his grandpa sat on the sidelines, chanting an elated, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Ah, it’s times like this that you wonder how Jin Itadori really had the patience. Because with all the grace that was lacking in the current scuffle on the living room floor, he claps his hands loudly. “Alright. Perhaps Choso’s right, that’s enough photo time for tonight.” He plucks the album out of a dazed Choso still gripping onto it, before moving to walk out. “And for the record-” Flashing you all a devious smile which suddenly had you remember that shit, him and Sukuna were twins, after all. “-I’d be the favorite.”

The arguments that followed were ones you had to record on your phone to giggle at later. And, yet, through it all, the only thing you could truly focus on were Choso’s words - all five of them.

Fuck. You were truly, irrevocably so fucked, and one sideglance at the pretty pink blush burning at the tips of Choso’s ears told you he wasn’t faring any better. 

You jolt when his hand wraps around your waist - nothing out of the ordinary - but what was was the way he strayed past their usual perch at your hip, trailing slightly above to just caress your stomach. Something so electric in those eyes when they catch yours briefly. 

All five of them, huh?

---

9:37PM. 

SLAM!

“Cho, why’d you-”

“Shut up.”

You don’t know what’s hitting you first - his lips crashing against yours, or the realization that this was Choso. Dark eyes half-lidded, skin burning, breaths heaving with the fervor he was drinking you in with. 

“What-” you yelp when he pulls away lazily to suck on your lower lip. “What got-” Only to come clashing back down again, drawing out all the air in your lungs as he blindly shoves the two of you against the nearest wall. “What got into you this- mmpf-” And again it’s like Choso didn’t want you to talk - could bare another word in your sweet voice for fear of poking some deep, visceral part of himself awake. 

This time, not even daring to break the kiss, he pants into your open mouth, “Shut up.” So bruisingly sloppy, “Please.”

And oh he was so very determined to have it that way, because all you can do is let out breathless gasps when his hands dance down your body. Handling you so rough with the way he snaps the neckline of your cute lil’ dress, kneading your breasts, your hips. Everywhere and anywhere he could reach until he makes his way down to cup your already-damp cunt through your panties. “-because tonight m’gonna have her talking.”

Choso pushes his hips against yours with a strained grunt. Lips curling into a sinful leer when all you can do is gasp at the outline of his thick erection through his pants. Grinding down onto his palm subconsciously, dragging your sloppy pussy. 

“Shit.” Choso immediately brings his hand up to admire - now all glistening with a sheen of your syrupy slick. Looking you right in your glassy eyes as he pops a wet finger into his mouth. His own rolling to the back of his head, “Oh shit.”

Oh, he was going to enjoy this. So very, very much.

“Turns out…” he trails off, cutting himself off by dropping to his knees. Hard. Large hands groping your ass closer to his greedy mouth, “-she says we got some unfinished business.”

You whine when Choso hooks an index underneath the mound of your drenched panties sliding it along your puffy folds. All the way up until he was nudging at your pretty clit, then down, down, down until you were just coating his fingers. 

“Ngh- Cho-” your knees weaken, when his hot breath hits your pussy. And he notices - of course he does. Circling his muscled arms around your legs to hold you up, “Oh my god s’too much.”

Too much? He’s barely even getting started. And he tells you that - slurs it between his sharp canines biting down on the thin fabric of your panties. He tugs with his teeth, “M’gonna- fuck you smell so heavenly- m’gonna ruin you.” 

You whimper in disbelief. Knowing he was too entranced with your cunt to tease you again, you mewl, “Wh-what’s got you this- fuck- worked up, Cho?”

The only response you get is a throaty growl - like the mere idea of the answer to that has Choso losing his sanity. 

And, honestly he feels like he’s lost it already. Instead, taking his time to watch the way your slick beads through the see-through fabric with each passing second. Breaths coming out in little puffs as he pulls your panties back every-so-slightly and-

“Fuck!”

And then he’s pulling - ripping your poor panties to shreds. Cock twitching wildly at the strings of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric. Mouthwatering. 

Your panties lay in tatters on the floor. The cold air hitting you right along with his steady stream of saliva. Once. Twice. Smearing it across your folds with his thumbs as Choso repeats a single, jagged whisper, “Five.”

But you barely even have the time to register his response before he’s diving nose-deep into your dripping cunt. You don’t even know if he took the time to breathe - hell, he was kissing your puffy folds like he didn’t need to breathe. 

“Shouldn’t have taken me to ngh- that fortune shop.” his lips mesh sloppily with yours. “Shouldn’t have gone to dinner, too.” Licking down your folds, the cold metal of his piercing making your head spin. “Fuckkk we shouldn’t have. Ohhh we shouldn’t have- ”

He can’t help but let out a guttural, fucked-out little grunt at the sight. Looking right up into your glassy eyes as the tip of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit. On purpose. 

You buck your hips deeper into his pretty face, mewling. “O-oh. Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Letting him lick so filthily all over your clit - your folds - just barely dipping into your hole like he couldn’t decide. And it finally sets in that just maybe you weren’t getting off easy this time. “Five?”

And fuck you can feel the way Choso grins against your pussy, wrapping his now-glossy lips around your clit to suck so harshly.

“Mhmmm.” he moans, cheeks hollowing as he tugs on your poor, ravaged clit. Rolling his tongue - the ball of his piercing - right across the sensitive bud in just the way he knew you liked. “Shouldn’t have put those thoughts in my head, baby.”

Oh.

Oh, shit. Five. 

You definitely weren’t making it out alive today.

The same sentiment seems to ring in Choso’s pussydrunk head as he pulls away with a lewd squelch to grin up at you. So fucking pretty with his eyes miles away, hair messily framing his smudged eyeliner. Lips all puffy and glistening, your slick covering the lower half of his face, his chin - some even on his jaw like Choso was trying to get messy on purpose. “Ya finally got it, baby? I could feel her gettin’ wetter.”

You did. How could you not?

You jump when Choso reattaches his lips, this time bullying his tongue past your folds, into that first, feeble ring of resistance. Stretching out your sopping entrance on his tongue in persistent, rough pushes. “Seems she hngh- really likes the idea, hm? Of me breeding this lil’ cunt?” he moans, muffled with the way he was thrusting his tongue deeper and deeper with each second. Roaming for those cute sensitive spots he knew so well, “N’ who am I to say no to the fuck- mother of my kids?”

“There! Oh my god there-” you cry when his piercing just hits at your g-spot. “I-I thought you ngh- didn’t want kids, Cho–”

As if to prove you wrong, Choso’s only curling his tongue deeper into your walls. Squeezing past your walls to fuck you exactly the way he wanted to with his aching cock right now. Hitting that magic spot again and again and-

“Oh yeah? Seems-” Like he was fucking addicted, Choso surges forward again. And again. And again and again so deep that you could feel the curve of his chin, each and every movement of his jaw. “Seems the last five hours were a bit- eye-opening. Fuck- you’re squeezin’ me s’fucking- mmf- tight”

And it was true - your walls were milking Choso’s tongue so hard you half-lucidly wondered whether it didn’t hurt. Whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up at this point, lips aching. 

But if they did, then Choso acted the exact opposite. Nails leaving neat little patterns on the plush of your hips as he makes you ride his face harder. 

“Cho!” you buck your hips wildly when that wasn’t enough for your needy boyfriend either. Big, fat tears of overstimulation rising up to your eyes when he swipes his thumb across your pulsing clit. Rings cold against your cunt when he starts to draw urgent, messy little circles in time with his tongue.“Oh fuck-” 

“Five.” he’s spitting into your cunt when your thighs start trembling beside his head. Jaw sagging open so lewdly as he gets faster - sloppier. Fuck any rhythm or reason. “Five.” he moans, sounding as strained as you felt - as taut as a tightrope right now with each drag of your sloppy cunt over Choso’s ravenous mouth. Greedier - letting your slick run all the way down his wrist now with how messy he was getting. “Five.” he whispers, when you finally cum. 

And shit, you’re such a vision when you do. Tears springing to your eyes, fingers tightening on Choso’s hair. Letting out such cute sobs of his name, hips moving out of control all over his mouth while he still pulls and pushes his tongue into your gummy walls. Fucking you so obscenely through your high. 

“Yeah? You all done with the first one, baby?” he rasps, giving your sensitive cunt one, last peck at your delirious nod - and another extra, just to watch you squirm. “Then-” Choso does the same up your body, pressing his lips to your stomach, “-you can-” the valley of your breasts. “-take responsibility.”

That’s all it takes for Choso to easily throw you onto his sculpted shoulders like some ragdoll. Taking long, urgent steps towards the nearest flat surface - that just so happened to be your couch. 

“Cho- slow-” you squeal when he throws you onto the cushions. “-down.”

And he does anything but. Barely paying attention to your zipper when he pulls off whatever’s left of your dress, throwing it god-knows-where behind him. “I’ll buy you a new one when we go pregnancy shopping.”

Choso lets out a long, strained groan when he unbuckles your bra. “Gonna be so pretty as a mama.” Large, soft hands coming to knead and guide your pretty nipples into his mouth, “Gonna be- fuck- so pretty with these all full.” 

And you can only watch, jaw-dropped, as Choso sucks on your tits. Eyes rolling to the back of his head with how harsh he was - as if he was trying to get out milk. Needing to feel it - to taste it on his tongue. 

“And this- oh this-” A hand sneaks its way down to splay out over your stomach. Pressing down, hard. “So round and full with my kid.” He manages to grit out over the metal clinking of his belt, “They’ll look at you and all they’ll see is me.” He pauses, feeling something crinkle in his pocket - a shiny condom. One that Choso chucks along with your dress, “Fuck, they’ll see me. Know how I ruined you. Me me me me-”

Fuck- 

You’re so caught up in Choso’s sinful little mutters that you barely even noticed he’d pull down his pants - just enough for his rock-hard erection to spring free. And he looked so painfully hard, such an angry red at his weeping tip, leaking all the way down, down, down those prominent veins. 

Twitching upwards at the mere sound of your voice, “Why don’t you p-prove it then, Cho?”

You broke him. You were sure you broke him. 

The words have barely left your lips before Choso’s fist is squeezing at the drenched base of his cock. Angry. Desperate. 

All but cumming on the spot when he glides his fat head along your slit - letting your cunt drool all over him before-

“F-fuck-”

“Shhh baby, I know I know.” his mouth crashes against yours in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Sucking on your tongue while he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. Inch by fucking inch. And whatever’s remaining of Choso’s sanity knows he should slow down, let you breathe, maybe stretch you out more - but how could he when he physically can’t. “Fuck- too- too good. God, I have t-to do this more often.”

Your raw cunt too heavenly that he genuinely can’t stop his hips from splitting you apart deeper, from spreading your thrashing legs so far apart it burned.

From feeling the way you’re torn between taking more and flattening your feet to push away- Letting out a strangled groan, “No no no no no- don’t you take this pussy away. How else will I breed her?” He runs his delirious mouth, strong arms just dragging you across the couch back onto his mean cock. “Need this- need this so bad. Fuck-” Choso throws his head back as your cunt sucks up his leaky tip. “-oh god think m’gonna die if I don’t get to breed this pretty pussy. To give her my kid.”

Pushing in small, sharp jabs to bully himself inside, having your puffy folds bulge so obscenely around his cock. Quivering and struggling to take him all. Not even a quarter of the way in yet he was pushing in and out in and out in and-

“Oh- please-” you claw down his toned back, his waist, onto the biceps that were pushing your knees up for easier access, all the way until they were at your tits. Folding you into a tight mating press, “Cho–”

Ah, that little nickname always did things to him. And Choso nuzzles the crook of your neck gently - the exact opposite of his hips, leaving faint, dark streaks of eyeliner on your skin. “What is it? What do you hngh- want, baby? I’ll give ya anything.”

And maybe you were a mastermind. Maybe you were an idiot. Because you hum into his ear, sending goosebumps rising down your boyfriend’s spine, “Wan’ five of them.”

If you thought you broke him before then you fucking ruined him now.

Because in one, harsh thrust he’s bottoming out - feeling like he was pushing all the way into your lungs, your hazy brain. And the stretch - fuck. You could feel each and every dip and curve of Choso’s girth, thrumming against your plushy walls. Still pushing inside you despite bottoming out, stretching you out like such a slut. 

It was all Choso could do to echo, over and over like some type of mantra. “Finally- Five, huh? Five- Fuck!” Leaving little bruises on your thighs from spreading them apart so hard. “Gonna give you five- fuck- five.”

Each word was punctuated by a long, mean thrust, not daring to reel back until Choso could feel his fat head kiss your poor cervix, and his heavy balls smack against your ass. 

It was starting to take a toll on your ability to speak in coherent sentences - as expected, of course. 

“Oh- ngh- Cho, s’too deep. Too- ah-” you blubber tearily, heels digging into his shoulders. And he only fucks you harder into the couch. Bouncing you so rough on his swollen cock. 

“Too deep?” Choso mutters, sounding genuinely surprised. As if to confirm for himself, he trails up a hand to feel for where he knew he was leaving loving little marks on your cervix. Pressing down. “How are ya- hah- how are ya gonna let me breed this cute cunt if even this is too deep, huh?”

You don’t have the ability to answer even if you wanted to - because Choso starts to toy with your still-sensitive clit. Sending flashes of white-hot pleasure with each roll of his ringed thumb over it. Tiny, incessant circles.

He coos over your lewd ah! ah! ah! “Awww. My baby can’t s-speak anymore?”. The curve of his dick fucking you so dumb, massaging your tight walls, hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. “S’alright, jus’ let me hah- take care of it, okay? Jus’ let me paint this oh- heavenly pussy white.” Choso’s knees dig into the cushion as he angles his hips ever-so-slightly to hit that one-

“Fuck! Oh fuck- Cho–”

Found it.

“C’mon, baby.” Choso moans into the valley of your breasts, hips out of control now. Free hand coming up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to peer into his dark gaze. “L-look at me. Fuck- look at the future father to your kids.”

All while his thick tip hit your g-spot over and over and- 

And oh how he loved how fucked-out you looked already. Capable of only giving him bleary, cockdrunk heart-eyes as he milks himself on your sloppy cunt. He couldn’t think straight - doesn’t think he’s been able to since five hours ago. 

Since he’s been wrecked with thoughts of how he’d do their hair and you’d pick them up from school. And how Yuji would be the best uncle and- Fuck, how he wanted those five kids with you - maybe even more- 

“More?” you gasp. And Choso lets out a guttural groan when you clench so sinfully around him in surprise. Fucking you so filthy, “M-more kids?”

Choso only drawls out a low, “Mhmmmm.” Pinching your clit faster between two fingers to shut up those cute whines because shit- he could cum from just how tight you were squeezing him. But refuses to before the mother of his kids. “Ya don’ ngh- wan’ me to? Don’ want me to fuck a baby into you?” 

You’re crying out harder when he speeds up. Rocking your sloppy cunt so harshly, making sure your poor pussy will remember him for a long, long time. Just trying - needing - to make himself cum. To fill you up with his seed till you can’t take it anymore. “I- ngh- do!”

And it takes everything in Choso to pull away from your ravaged tits, connecting his sweaty forehead with yours. Whispering, “How many?”

“As- fuck-”

“Mhm?”

“As many as you want- hngh-”

That’s all it takes for Choso’s body to bow, teeth digging in right above that rapid pulse on your neck so hard you wondered whether it drew blood. Hips stuttering, giving your sensitive spot one last, harsh kiss.

This time, when you cum you see white flashes behind your eyes - or maybe that was just Choso. Because the sight of you falling apart on his dick was all it takes for him to as well. Hard. Almost painfully so. 

Eyeliner running down his cheeks now with each thick, hot rope of seed he was filling your snug cunt up with. Those cushions below the two of you the last thing on his mind right now as he holds your trembling hips still, fucking his cum deeper and deeper.

The hand on your stomach pushes down, watching awe-struck at how your bloated cunt just coats him in cum. Dribbling down the side of your puffy folds, forming a creamy ring at his base.

“Oh!“ your jaw falls slack at how animalistic it felt. At how slutty your overfilled pussy felt, drooling all down your legs - and his. Onto Choso’s painfully squeezing balls as he fucks you like an animal. Again. And again and-

Again. He was speeding his hips up again. 

Then it’s like something snaps - Choso’s restraint, your sanity, and the couch. Fuck, his hips were so harsh that the couch was sagging entirely too much on your end.

This time, wrangling your legs around Choso’s waist, lifting your limp body up into Choso’s arms before you can react - squirming at the way he still doesn’t bother to pull out. Letting your cum gush all the way down his still-hard dick. 

Hands spreading your puffy folds apart, making such a mess of cum down below as he drags himself across your walls. Like he was marking you from the inside out - and he was.

“Didn’t think we were ngh- done, did you?” Choso’s lips graze your swollen ones. “After all, I did promise five.” Softly pooling a stray tear onto his tongue, piercing burning into your heated skin. “N’ we gotta practice for that, too, right?”

---

“The photo albums, really? Honestly, dad, you might as well have just gone and just outright told them.”

The older man only waves a hand dismissively, turning back to his favorite late-night show, “I’m not getting any younger here. N’ I’d like to see some grandkids before I see the pearly gates.”

Jin only sighs, but doesn’t disagree - after all, he couldn’t deny his father what he himself has been dreaming about ever since Choso finally plucked up the courage to actually ask you out. Yet he persists, “But honestly, Sukuna - you were teasing him a bit too much.”

Sukuna grunts, “Teasing? What teasing?” Crossing two big arms across his chest, “From the way they ran outta here, I suspect he should be thanking me.”

“Well, the true MVP - as the kids say - is this one-” Grandpa Itadori points at a rather oblivious Yuji. ‘Real nice improv to the plan, kid.“

Who only shakes his head before looking around the room for any answers, “Huh, wait. What plan? Did I miss some plan?”

“Ahem- no. Nothing.” Jin coughs, swiftly moving along the conversation above Yuji’s confused protests about what secret plan there was and why. “But, really, it should be that fortune teller you hired, Sukuna. Bit over-the-top honestly, but Choso was telling me all about her and you must’ve gotten a real convincing actress.”

Rolling his eyes, “Huh, I didn’t hire her, I thought that was the ol’ man’s work?”

“Now why would I go looking for actresses, my wife would just haunt me from the grave.”

The silence that follows is a heavy one as it slowly dawns upon everyone in the room - except for a still-floundering Yuji - that this was in no way a creative improvisation to the aforementioned plan. Not at all, really.

Oh. 

Wow. Five…really?!

“GUYS WHAT WAS THE PLAN?”

A/N. This got wayyyyyy longer than I expected lmao.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[valeriehalla]

actual writing advice

1. Use the passive voice.

What? What are you talking about, “don’t use the passive voice”? Are you feeling okay? Who told you that? Come on, let’s you and me go to their house and beat them with golf clubs. It’s just grammar. English is full of grammar: you should go ahead and use all of it whenever you want, on account of English is the language you’re writing in.

2. Use adverbs.

Now hang on. What are you even saying to me? Don’t use adverbs? My guy, that is an entire part of speech. That’s, like—that’s gotta be at least 20% of the dictionary. I don’t know who told you not to use adverbs, but you should definitely throw them into the Columbia river.

3. There’s no such thing as “filler”.

Buddy, “filler” is what we called the episodes of Dragon Ball Z where Goku wasn’t blasting Frieza because the anime was in production before Akira Toriyama had written the part where Goku blasts Frieza. Outside of this extremely specific context, “filler” does not exist. Just because a scene wouldn’t make it into the Wikipedia synopsis of your story’s plot doesn’t mean it isn’t important to your story. This is why “plot” and “story” are different words!

4. okay, now that I’ve snared you in my trap—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but orthography actually does kind of matter

First of all, a lot of what you think of as “grammar” is actually orthography. Should I put a comma here? How do I spell this word in this context? These are questions of orthography (which is a fancy Greek word meaning “correct-writing”). In fact, most of the “grammar questions” you’ll see posted online pertain to orthography; this number probably doubles in spaces for writers specifically.

If you’re a native speaker of English, your grammar is probably flawless and unremarkable for the purposes of writing prose. Instead, orthography refers to the set rules governing spelling, punctuation, and whitespace. There are a few things you should know about orthography:

English has no single orthography. You already know spelling and punctuation differ from country to country, but did you know it can even differ from publisher to publisher? Some newspapers will set parenthetical statements apart with em dashes—like this, with no spaces—while others will use slightly shorter dashes – like this, with spaces – to name just one example.

Orthography is boring, and nobody cares about it or knows what it is. For most readers, orthography is “invisible”. Readers pay attention to the words on a page, not the paper itself; in much the same way, readers pay attention to the meaning of a text and not the orthography, which exists only to convey that meaning.

That doesn’t mean it’s not important. Actually, that means it’s of the utmost importance. Because orthography can only be invisible if it meets the reader’s expectations.

You need to learn how to format dialogue into paragraphs. You need to learn when to end a quote with a comma versus a period. You need to learn how to use apostrophes, colons and semicolons. You need to learn these things not so you can win meaningless brownie points from your English teacher for having “Good Grammar”, but so that your prose looks like other prose the reader has consumed.

If you printed a novel on purple paper, you’d have the reader wondering: why purple? Then they’d be focusing on the paper and not the words on it. And you probably don’t want that! So it goes with orthography: whenever you deviate from standard practices, you force the reader to work out in their head whether that deviation was intentional or a mistake. Too much of that can destroy the flow of reading and prevent the reader from getting immersed.

You may chafe at this idea. You may think these “rules” are confusing and arbitrary. You’re correct to think that. They’re made the fuck up! What matters is that they were made the fuck up collaboratively, by thousands of writers over hundreds of years. Whether you like it or not, you are part of that collaboration: you’re not the first person to write prose, and you can’t expect yours to be the first prose your readers have ever read.

That doesn’t mean “never break the rules”, mind you. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with English orthography, then you are free to break it as you please. Knowing what’s expected gives you the power to do unexpected things on purpose. And that’s the really cool shit.

5. You’re allowed to say the boobs were big if the story is about how big the boobs were

Nobody is saying this. Only I am brave enough to say it.

Well, bye!

[drchucktingle]

THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION HAVE ISSUED AN APOLOGY AND A RE-INVITATION. HERE IS MY STATEMENT

hello buckaroos. the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION have issued a formal statement and apology which you can read at the attached link.

while i find the language used to discuss what was done a little unsatisfying, i would like to start by saying i appreciate anyone taking steps to prove love is real and make things right. the genuine feeling of ‘realizing you have made a mistake and hurt someone else’ is a terrible one, and i have so much empathy for this group as they reckon with their choices causing harm. i appreciate their apology.

i also think more good than bad has come from this situation. i am so thankful this happened to me (someone with a large social media presence) and not a smaller buckaroo author without the means to stand up for themselves. i think the next time someone comes to the TXLA with an accommodation need, they will hopefully be taken more seriously

lets trot down to business about specifics now. the TXLA has re-invited chuck to the original panel and even offered to take a moment at the top of the panel to talk about what happened. this is very kind of them and i will say THANK YOU. 

unfortunately i will also have to decline.

the fact that it took this much effort, social media backlash, and discussion to let me simply EXIST PHYSICALLY in a way that is authentic to myself is not a good sign. if this organization immediately questions an authors chosen presentation in this manner, i cannot imagine what my other accommodations would be met with.

sometimes i am at an event and i very quickly need extra space to breathe. sometimes i am at an event and i need special guides to help me along from place to place. these are not ‘big asks’ and every other conference has gladly provided them, but if the TXLA had this kind of initial reaction to my physical appearance, i cannot imagine them readily helping with my other needs without ‘proof’.

this is clearly not a safe place to trot for those who require additional accommodations. regardless of any apology, their ACTIONS have shown that people who appear unusual or unique are not welcome at this event on a subconscious level. i believe the TXLA have some serious inner work to do beyond this apology, and i believe this inner work will involve actions more than words.

but even more importantly i would like to make this very important point: IT DOES NOT MATTER IF MY MASK IS A DISABILITY AID OR NOT. i appreciate the way this discussion has allowed us to trot out some deep talks on autism and proved love in this way, but i think there is a much more important point at hand.

regardless of WHAT someone looks like, it is not the job of an event or conference to pick apart WHY. physical presentation can be a part of someones neurodivergence, or gender, or sexuality, but i can also just exist as a nebulous undefined part of their inner self. it can be a piece they are not ready to openly discuss yet. the guests at TXLA are authors (aka ARTISTS) and the idea that a conference dedicated to an ART is going to deny people with unique and unusual presentations for ANY reason is absurd. since when are we applying a ‘dress code’ to our artists?

without knowing it, i personally believe there is an element of the ‘good queer, bad queer’ phenomenon going on here. there is a push to say ‘LOOK we accept these marginalized groups and cultures’ but behind the scenes that means ‘we accept these marginalized groups and cultures who are quiet and speak in turn and wear the metaphorical suit and tie’. it is easy to show diversity when you only take on the voices that arent too ‘strange’.

to prove my point i ask you this: do you think orville peck would have FOR ONE SECOND been asked to perform at the texas library association event without his mask?

so with that i say ‘very sincerely, thank you, but i will have to decline the re-invitation. maybe next year’