#but i have had the privilege of knowing several

[viktortittiforov]

FYI, this is very similar to what you have to undergo in the czech republic in order to access medical and legal transition, and until this year(!) trans people living in CZ were also legally required to get medically castrated ("sterilized") in order to change their gender marker. the country kept that condition even after the european court of human rights ruled that it is a human rights violation, and only scrapped it this year after a czech trans man went to the czech constitutional court with it (i am not naming him because afaik his name is unknown to the public, i think he wanted it that way but am not sure).

as a czech nonbinary person currently trying to access medical transition and to change my legal name to a gender neutral one free of charge, i can confirm it's fucking hell. the humiliating, irrelevant, unscientific, pathologizing side of it is already well-described above, but i wanted to talk more also about the more practical difficulties. those obviously differ between CZ and UK and my experience is within CZ, but i think it may help you get an idea of what a person having to go through such a process really has to undergo, because even though i've known i'm nonbinary for 10 years and have been out as trans and nonbinary + well-informed about the state of czech trans healthcare + a part of the czechoslovak* trans community for about 6 of those years, it was not until i actually experienced this process for myself that i fully understood what an Ordeal it is. and i have (or have had) very close friends who i have seen going through it in real time.

buckle up. this will be long.

(and sorry to OP if i'm hijacking your post. i'm sharing the CZ context in order to also further illustrate the UK one, because i believe they are similar, not to derail the convo in favour of CZ. my intent is for people to better understand what trans people in certain countries have to deal with + for people to know that having access to free trans healthcare is really not all sparkles and rainbows (even as it is still a privilege that many trans people all over the world don't have).

we don't have GICs in CZ. so, in order to even get hormones, you have to:

go to a sexologist. sexologists are the main gatekeepers of medical transition in CZ and yes, it is very bizarre and based on some really old notions of what branch of medicine transness falls under. i also really do mean the word gatekeepers, not just because you have to go to them but because they really do gatekeep something severe. the majority of them are very cis- and hetero-normative (and also sexist), enforce normative gender expectations, see transness as a pathology (though what kind of pathology varies from sexologist to sexologist, some lean more towards sexual deviance, others towards mental illnese, etc), are suspicious of trans people not wanting (certain or any) medical interventions, and do not recognize nonbinary people as being "real"/valid/whatever word you want to use. there are literally 3 (three) sexologists in the country who are widely known in the czechoslovak trans community as being mostly OK (=not the things just listed or at least not as much as all the other sexologists). when i was starting my journey towards HRT (at least a year and a half ago now i think, probably closer to two years), i first contacted the 2 (out of those 3) which are closer to me; none of the "OK ones" are based in the city i live, and i live in the 2nd largest city in CZ. neither of them was accepting new "patients"* for the foreseeable future. luckily the third one was accepting new people, but he is basically on the other side of the country from me, so about 4–5 hours away by train or bus (=an 8hr roundtrip). this is annoying, exhausting, and expensive, as i've had to go see him at least 3 times by now and i still have not gotten a fucking testosterone prescription from him.

it's not easy to get the average sexologist to take you seriously. the three "OK ones" are significantly less gatekeepy and distrustful, but you usually have to do some convincing there, too. that includes dressing the "right" way, giving the "right" answers, having the "right" expectations of transition, etc. you learn what's "right" from the wider trans community and what's "right" is very, very, very normative. for most czech sexologists, you really for real have to prove not only that you're "trans enough"*, but also that once you transition, your current "pathological trans self" will become "normal" enough, gender conforming enough that you will cease being a treat or a disruption to the prevailing social gender order. it's literally designed to be a normalizing process. i have an MA in sociology with a focus on gender studies and for one of my uni essays i conducted a critical discourse analysis of the most prominent czech book about transness penned by czech sexologists, so i think i'm qualified to say this. the whole thing is very foucauldian but let's not get too philosophical here (i will happily tell you more if you ask me though).

if you're lucky and the sexologist believes you may indeed be trans (because of course they have to believe you and of course they're the ones who decide what the truth is), they will (eventually; usually you need several sessions for them to "be sure" or whatever) give you a referral to 3–4 other specialists: a psychiatrist, a clinical psychologist, an endocrinologist and an internal medicine physician. from each of these, you have to get a report for your sexologist.

from the clinical psychologist, they need a report confirming that you are indeed trans (they give you the official diagnosis) and that you don't have any other conditions which you might be confusing for transness, e.g. schizophrenia, psychosis, etc. you don't need me to tell you how fucked this is for e.g. schizophrenic trans people. it's not always a certain no-go for them, but they will have an even more difficult time accessing medical transition.

from the psychiatrist, they need a report confirming you are lucid and don't have any conditions which are potential contraindications to HRT and/or surgery. this can be the conditions already listed above, but also conditions like intense and unmanaged depression and/or anxiety, which might worsen at the start of you taking hormones. i know this because i have depression and anxiety and my sexologist wants to be sure i am stable enough to go on HRT before he gives me the goddamn prescription. this seems like it makes sense on the surface, but it also... completely disregards the fact that a) anxiety, depression and similar conditions will often be improved by HRT in the long run because yknow, less bad gender feels, and b) depression medication also tends to first make your symptoms worse before it makes them better, and no one makes such a fuss about it.

from the endocrinologist, you need a report confirming that you don't have any hormonal conditions which might be contraindicative to HRT, i.e. which make it so that long-term (often lifelong) HRT would be risky/dangerous for you. it's not like there has to be zero risk or danger and many conditions are (i think) just potential, not absolute contraindications, but yeah. this is about the only examination/report that i think is justified and good and makes sense, but it still kind of sucks because at least in CZ, there is not nearly enough endocrinologists to effectively cover demand/need, much less endocrinologists with a good understanding of trans healthcare, and for some reason many are notoriously judgmental cunts eager to insult and belittle people, apparently. more on this later.

finally, from the internist, you need a report confirming basically the same thing as the endocrinology examination, but for conditions pertaining to internal organs and the effect HRT may have on them. this also makes sense and it is also not always needed if there's no reason to suspect (e.g. from your family's medical history) that you have any such conditions. however, it's shitty because for many people trying to access transition this is the first time they get referred to an internist, and a medical condition might suddenly be discovered which complicates their access to HRT. it's obviously good that the condition is now known, but it's shitty when it's so unexpected. my ex-gf (a trans woman), for example, found out she has a condition that makes it more likely she will get blood clots, which sucks because HRT increases your chance of getting blood clots (if i remember correctly). she is now on HRT, but had to wait a lot longer because several subsequent tests needed to be done, and she initially thought this last examination would just be a formality. (this problem with unexpectedness also applies to the results of the endocrinology exam, of course. but this is a wider problem of doctors being unwilling to sign off on preventive examinations...)

if you already go to one or some of these regularly, the sexologist will give you a paper requesting these medical reports instead of a referral. this is lucky, because usually all of these specialists are as difficult to access as the sexologists, or even more so, and if you already visit one you will be spared some waiting time. but it's unlucky if the person you go to is very uninformed about trans stuff and also uncooperative (i am experiencing this with my psychiatrist).

if you have any other chronic health conditions, you will need to also check whether those aren't contraindications. for example, i have some chronic eye issues so i have to get a report from my ophthalmologist, which is going to be fucking difficult because i bet they have no idea how eye conditions interact with HRT and they will most likely be unwilling to research it (even though that's literally their job). it is necessary, i get it, but it fucking sucks that i have to be the one "negotiating" with them about getting this report, said negotiating being tragically close to begging sometimes. czech doctors, and i think doctors in general, sadly often have little respect for their "patients" and believe they always know better, which makes it difficult to get them to do what you need them to do (as i'm sure many are aware).

most of these other specialists, at least in CZ, are similar to the sexologists or even worse, i.e. not only will you usually have to wait months for an appointment (if they even agree to offering you one and don't just tell you to try elsewhere), but they are uninformed about trans healthcare and uninformed about how to respectfully treat trans people, or even straight up transphobic, sexist, queerphobic, etc. perhaps because of this they are often uncooperative and unwilling (more than usual). there are exceptions and when you are nonbinary, you either have to seek those out or lie (=say you're binary trans), but obviously you can only lie to some of the specialists or it'll turn up in the reports and your sexologist is gonna read it and grill you about why you lied (if you go to an enby friendly sexologist and they know you are nonbinary, ofc. if they don't know either, then you can lie to everyone, but that can be stressful obviously). also even the specialists who aren't actively hostile will most likely misgender you if you don't pass, and sometimes even if you do; i've heard of endocrinologists who refuse to respect pronouns until the person has been sterilized and had their gender marker officially changed. apparently until it's legally sanctioned, it's not real, or i don't know.

in case of the sexologist and endocrinologist you will need to keep seeing them long-term so they can keep an eye on your health and well... on you generally, ig. the visits will be less frequent and shorter the longer you take hormones, i am led to believe, but yeah. and this is also good, i think (despite the aspect of being monitored to some extent), but it means your choice of sexologist and endocrinologst has to be strategic and you can't just say you will just go to that notoriously shitty guy near where you live because it's convenient and he can offer you an appointment relatively soon, unless you want to go through the ordeal of finding a new endocrinologist again immediately after your first appointment with that shitty guy.

all of this sucks, the doctors give you reports and requests and referrals but they don't know what the other doctors want, they are not satisfied with the reports (the extensiveness of them or the content itself), they say they can't help you. it's exhausting. apparently they can't just write or call each other to figure it out. you need to do all of that yourself.

that's the ordeal you have to go through just to get HRT. if you want surgery, in CZ you usually have to literally go sit in front of a panel of "experts" so they can grill you on your transition so far, what surgeries you want or don't want and why, what your expectations are, etc. yes, again. and these "experts" change somewhat for each hearing, and they usually know jack shit about transness or trans healthcare. from what i've heard they're very conservative. there's ways to get around this totally meaningless interrogation and afaik most people get the panel's approval and are only in that room for a short while, it's apparently very surface level unless you give them a reason to doubt your transness. but people have to wait months for their hearing. it's a further test of patience.

this is the route you have to go if you want to transition free of charge. i think it's great that CZ has universal healthcare, but universal healthcare comes with a lot of gatekeeping and hangups and problems, bcs the country wants to make sure you are only getting a given treatment if you really need it; and of course, the doctors are the judges of that. also, at least so far, free transition that falls under universal healthcare is predicated on transness being defined in the ICD (international classification of diseases) as a medical problem. it has to be pathologized and medicalized in order for it to be free. it doesn't have to be that way, but right now, it is that way, and it sucks. pathologization plays a huge role in making transness non-threatening to the social order.

oh, and if you're rich and able + willing to pay for transition? in CZ, you can get fucked. afaik, private, self-funded transition isn't really available or perhaps even legal. i might be wrong, and i do personally know one transmasc person who paid for their own top surgery and had it done at a private clinic, but they still faced a TON of unwillingness because the clinic was really worried about being sued. if you have the money (or were able to get it via donations), you will most likely need to go abroad, and if you're planning on returning to CZ after, you will almost certainly have difficulty getting legal recognition (shall you seek it).

whether legal recognition is desirable or necessary is a whole different discussion, of course. i don't want to get into it in this already ridiculously long post, but i wanted to at least acknowledge that legal recognition is by no means neutral and/or unproblematic.

if you managed to read all the way to the end, i salute you. you must be tired. go eat an apple or something.

*czechoslovakia stopped existing over 30 years ago but CZ and SK people still largely intermingle and many slovak people migrate to CZ. i am specifying this because annoyingly enough, many people on this US-centric site still do not know czechoslovakia is no longer a thing, so in case my addition gets some attention, i want this to be clear. please do not talk in the tags about how this is your first time hearing about this. i most likely will not see it since i am not OP but i have seen it happen a lot in posts about CZ and/or SK and it's really not funny or quirky that you didn't know. it's quite insulting, actually. if you want to share the fact that this is new info to you, share it instead with your friends who also may not know, so that they learn. thanks. (yes i'm bitter)

*the term patient implies a hierarchy & is pathologizing = is far from neutral; putting it in quotes to disrupt its seeming neutrality.

*trans enough = see transnormativity; link leads to an open-access academic article introducing this concept but you can definitely find simpler explanations online if you're not familiar with it.

What in the academic fuck is a GIC assesment

A GIC assessment (Gender Identity Clinic) assessment is the psychiatric interrogation you have to go through in Britain if you want permission to medically transition (and some aspects of legal transition too). Also called a Gender Dysphoria Assessment.

It involves answering a bunch of medically irrelevant, repetitive, deeply humiliating, repetitive questions like how you masturbate, what you wear when you masturbate, your sexual history, your childhood history, what toys you played with as a child, your employment, the clothes you like to wear, your relationship with your partners and family, etc. The classic is "Do you imagine yourself as a woman when you masturbate?" It also involves various psychiatric tests to check whether you're psychotic, which are deeply stigmatising. You will likely have to suffer this interrogation more than once if you want certain medical and legal doors to open. If you do not answer these questions "correctly" you may be refused transition.

If you want to get it for free, you'll need to wait several years, possibly decades depending on where you live, to be admitted to a Gender Identity Clinic.

If you want to go private, it will cost you about £500 a go, maybe more. (It's not technically a GIC Assessment unless it takes place at an NHS GIC; otherwise it's just sparkling humiliation.)

At the end of your interrogation you will - if you answered correctly - be diagnosed with "gender dysphoria." There is no way for them to check whether the answers you gave were truthful or whether you just told them what they want to hear. In Britain, about a third of trans people surveyed said they lied or withheld information during these assessments. There was no way for the 2015 American Psychiatric Association Working Group on gender dysphoria - the cis people who created the diagnosis* - to know that the interview data they based it on wasn't also full of people telling doctors what they wanted to hear! The unreliability of that data, some researchers have said, calls into serious question the use and sense of the diagnosis! * Fun fact: Ray Blanchard and Kenneth Zucker were both on that working group!

The NHS spends somewhere between 20 and 90 million pounds a year (depending on how you count it) on doing this.

Contrast that process to, say, the treatment pathway for menopause, where a cis woman who wants hormone replacement therapy can just get it from her family doctor 🙃

If you'd like to know more about this, I spoke about it here in more detail with citations

And wrote about it here

[disease]

the older I grow, the more gratuitous I become on the thanksgiving holiday spent with family. the weight does not collect in my stomach, but grows heavy in my heart.

i've watched this young human grow throughout his life from childhood which is now approaching adulthood. each year he'd represent the example of your typical hyperactive child improperly medicated; however, i'm tolerant to such behavior due to sharing the same disorder. [ADHD]

yesterday was different. he's in his mid-teens now—which already serves as a transitional state of fragility—and his humanity has become consumed by the anxiety and depression stemmed from his disorder going untreated for all this time. the way he asked me "every day I feel hollow. is that normal to feel?" continues to haunt me.

everything he shared echoed back to what i had also experienced as a teenager—but with far more intensity due to his situation. he's at his breaking point, mind you riding a state of panic the entirety of last night; yet, the absolute most I was able to provide to him was an open ear and poignant advice to aid in future scenarios. the worst part is knowing that in itself won't sustain him for very long, and his digital communication privileges have been revoked—indefinitely. [ADHD is a daily struggle, a cognitive imbalance of chemicals, and only now being recognized for the severity of its impact.]

to any degree, to those reading: be easy on yourself today. allow yourself love from within, and recall how far you've personally come to get to this day. our journeys have all been unique, and depths of anguish vary—but you've conquered and overcome everything thus far to represent who you've become. we're all imperfect to a angle of perfection. survival is maintained by primal instinct and, more often than not, blind intuition. not all make it alive. you have. remain prideful for that—if that alone.

[theragethatisdesire]

hi bestie im sure uve been asked a million times but do u have any tips for writing? everything i write feels Bad

HELLOOOOOO nonny from a thousand and five years ago! i am by no means an expert, but these are the things that i've been lent by other far more talented writers that have helped me tremendously<3

dropping a cut to preserve the dash for those who aren't interested:)

i can assure you 200% that none of your writing is Bad. the best tip i have ever received is to look at your writing through a vacuum (to an extent). you will never write "like" your favorite authors; for example, i will only ever write like rage, not like donna tartt, or walt whitman. focusing on developing the voice and talent you already possess instead of trying to imitate was the most difficult hurdle for me to overcome, and i still catch myself doing it!

however, when you find things in other authors you appreciate, really really dig deeply in to see what you can learn from it. i approach this from a sentence level: why did king choose to use this word here, and not that one? how does that play into this character at large? understanding the mechanisms behind your fav authors will not only help you avoid copying them, but recognizing the technique at play that you want to learn and test/manipulate for yourself.

read your dialogue aloud. you will feel stupid. it's okay. this tip from a college professor is what i think levelled up my writing hugely.

revise everything you write three hundred times lol. i still pull up WIPs from 5 years ago to play with and revise, especially when i need to put current works down! it's the most helpful tip i've been given as far as recognizing bad habits, things i don't like about my writing, and things i really like. find what's strong, and repeat tip #2 on your own writing. what, on a molecular level, is making that sentence strong? i am by NO means a professional writer or a professor, but i did study creative writing in school, and these are things i have written down in a little doc when i'm feeling frustrated or at a mental block! by far the four things that have helped me grow the most as a writer. my personal best tip is just to get your thoughts on the page and be patient. i have lost so many good potential wips drabbles fics stories you name it by thinking "ugh, that sounds great, but i'm not advanced enough to write it"/"what if i try it and it's awful:/" who cares!! get it on the page!!! you can always improve or revisit it later if it doesn't meet your expectations. your ideas deserve a breath of fresh air :)

best of luck, and i hope that soon you'll send some writing for me to read and share!! i hope you find these helpful<3

[dimensionzero]

more atsv things that haunt me: pav doesn't originally have a watch.

[wingedshadowfan]

vi realized all too late (after putting on the uniform, gassing zaun up, telling caitlyn to take the shot) that she didn't have it in her to kill jinx. or for anyone else to kill jinx for that matter.

there are several things pointing towards this, other than just her immense love for her sister:

jinx having less hallucinations now that silco is gone and being more "herself" made the impossible decision much harder for vi - there was still a part of her left

someone pointed out neither of the two was putting her all in that fight - they were dancing around each other, stumbling, cat fighting like sisters often do

it's part of zaun culture (in a place where you can't survive on your own, people need to stick together and family is forged in blood, fire, trauma and adversity - we've been told by vander, silco, sevika and others that you protect your own and you leave nobody behind), something an average topsider will never understand

once caitlyn had shot the gun out of isha's hands (vi wasn't in immediate danger of getting her brains blown out by a child, which is a shot i'd personally justify), if vi was still on board with killing jinx, she'd simply GRAB ISHA AND MOVE TOWARDS COVER WITH HER SO CAITLYN CAN FINISH THE JOB.

instead, her focus conveniently falls away from the sister she doesn't want to kill and moves to truly see a caitlyn she's never seen before. one she'd almost glipsed just two scenes ago and asked her not to become. one so blinded by fear, rage and the desire for revenge, that she's willing to do things she'd never do before.

vi asked caitlyn not to change (she's afraid of change not just when it concerns caitlyn, but she's particularly scared caitlyn will become a monster like the enforcers who killed her parents, that vi will be proven right from the start), and caitlyn promised her, but she already wasn't the same, not after having seen the 5 dead counselors among the rubble, not after having looked into her own mother's lifeless eyes and saw nothing staring back, not after trying to replace that memory of her mother's eyes with the serene image of her closed eyes in her casket and failing, seeing jinx's smile instead. (people pointed out this is so important bcuz eye contact is how caitlyn connects to people and that she stops looking people in the eyes as a way of isolating herself after her mother's death and continues up until vi calls her 'cupcake' at the edge of the noxian camp). and this was on top of jinx already having tried to blow her and vi up, kidnapping caitlyn (we don't know what happened but we know caitlyn started flinched when jinx approached her at the tea party after), trying to get vi to kill her, etc

to make my point clear: i don't believe vi "condones child murder for the right reasons", i believe having lived a life like hers, seen and experienced the things she has, you'd also become very numb and desensitized to this kind of daily suffering. she's callous and understandably mad at a sheltered, privileged jayce's weakness and inability to acknowledge and move past something piltover condones everyday, as someone now on the council and the very inventor of hextech weapons. he seems unable to fathom it, just like he didn't understand what stillwater prison was like and what it did to people. that doesn't mean vi would harm children herself or be okay with seeing caitlyn do it. and yet, vi ends up hitting isha in the cave during her scuffle with jinx later on. specifically because in that moment in the vents, it's not really about shooting isha for vi, and it's only briefly about not killing jinx. it's about caitlyn's desparation to hit jinx that makes caitlyn of all people dare shoot so close to a child.

can i get something off my chest rq?

i HATE when people go “oh this character was right, this character was wrong, i’m glad this other character is dead, they deserved it they were so evil”

because NO, that’s not what arcane is about. it is a show with desperate people trying their damnedest to do what they think is right.

take the jinx v. caitlyn thing for example:

jinx lost everything she had because of a MISTAKE and just as she was about to get her sister, an integral part of her childhood and sanity back, she felt it being ripped away again. jinx has this horrible feeling that she is going to be abandoned again, and so she lashes out and ends up killing caitlyn’s mom and doesnt even know she’s in the room when she does it. it wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t excusable, but it had cause.

now, because of jinx’s actions, caitlyn hates her and is willing to do anything to see her dead. at this point it is important to note that vi has given caitlyn express permission and her blessing to kill jinx. vi also told jayce earlier in season one that kids die everyday in the lanes and that him killing one kid isnt actually that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, she basically tells him she condones child murder as long as it’s for a good reason. now back to caitlyn.

caitlyn follows what she believes to be right and takes aim at jinx while vi holds her down. isha steps in, and caitlyn stays with her conviction, continuing to aim the gun at jinx. suddenly, vi is COMPLETELY AGAINST the idea of killing kids and jinx. cait is rightfully confused as to why vi changed her mind so quickly.

so it makes sense that she would still try to shoot jinx, even when isha is in the way and vi is telling her not to. she didn’t actually change at all, if anything shes the only one who stayed the same.

i don’t really think any one of the characters in arcane is totally wrong, because they all have their own ups and downs, wrongs and rights. none of these characters is perfect, and that’s why i love them! they represent the gray area that we all exist in, but society rarely recognizes.

all in all, this show is not about heroes and villains, it’s about a diverse group of people fighting to do what they think is right in order to protect those they love.

[powerfulkicks]

man this con experience has really opened my eyes to how ableist the world is.

the staff at the event space were literally audibly making fun of people who use scooters and wheelchairs. literally they yelled at a person with a cane to walk faster.

and the courtyard that's outside is only open til 2 am, after that they literally block it off. thing is, the courtyard is the only way for a disabled person in a wheelchair to get back to the hotel (BECAUSE THEY REFUSE TO FIX THE DISABLED ELEVATOR that usually connects the hotel and the venue) so disabled people have nowhere to even (tho someone, probably another disabled person or a friend of one, moved the barricades so that someone could get through). reminder, this con is supposed to be all hours, so it's conceivable that someone could be out that late. there are panels until very late at night.

and once you get to the hotel, you have to scan your hotel key on the door to get inside. there's a button to open the door for ppl in wheelchairs/scooters/etc, sure, but it DOESNT WORK when the hotel is closed for the night, so you just can't fucking get in if you're disabled and you can't navigate opening the door with your wheelchair/scooter. you have to either have someone with you to open the door for you, wait for a helpful stranger, or try to manage it on your own (which, like, OBVIOUSLY DEFEATS THE PURPOSE OF THE HANDICAP BUTTON).

this is a huge fucking problem!

[syncrovoid-presents]

I will continue being gone for a few days, sadly my original al plan of releasing the newest chapter of The Consequence Of Imagination's Fear has also been delayed. My apologies

Can't go into detail because its hush hush not-legally-mentionable stuff but today is my fifth 12 hour no-break work day. I'm also packing to move too in a fortnight (which is a Big Yahoo!! Yippee!! I'll finally have access to a kitchen!! And no more mold others keep growing!!! So exciting!!!)

[fideidefenswhore]

The rumor about returned gifts, since two informants separately revealed it to him, sounds like an invented event to assure Chapuys of Jane's honor and to neutralize the earlier rumor about Henry's presenting her with gifts. Considering the Seymours' social status and political ambitions, surely they would not have permitted their female relative to refuse presents from the King.

Elizabeth of York and Her Six Daughters-in-Law: Fashioning Tudor Queenship, Retha Warnicke

[killerpancakeburger]

Thinking about a Reader who ends up having Scary Dog Privileges with Ghost without meaning to. It just happened.

Then they have to deal with the fact that this comes with duties too.

Tags: civilian!reader, gn!reader, mostly fluff, a bit suggestive, smug!Ghost, smooth!Ghost. 800 words.

Part 2. Part 3.

When Ghost is reluctant to getting sutured in Medical after accidentally opening his stitches, grumbling he can do it himself, who does the nurse call for? Yeah, you.

She could stand her ground, after all she's used to dealing with big, whiny men, but it's much more fun to knock on your door and smile at your bewildered gaze and gaping mouth when she explains the situation in two sentences.

"Ghost's being difficult, mind taking over?" "I'm sorry, what the hell does this have to do with me?" "C'm'on, everyone on base knows he's got a soft spot for you. Don't you want to make my job easier?"

You roll your eyes and slam your hands on your desk as you get up. Groaning as you walk past her— "I'm doing this for you, nothing else, got it?"

Mumbling to yourself "you've got to be kidding me" as you barge into the sick bay. Ghost is coolly seated at the end of a bed, large as life, casual clothes as black as his mask and— oh. You weren't told the wound was on his thigh— you weren't warned that he didn’t have pants on. You can’t help it, your eyes go down, down, your lingering gaze and your flustered silence forming a confession louder than words.

A noise — a scoff or a grunt, you’re not sure — emanates from him, breaks your trance, makes you look up. The amusement in his gaze tells you he noticed your oggling— of course he did. Nothing gets past the Ghost, and you've been remarkably unsubtle. Despite the mask, you swear you can make out the smug smirk on his lips. His cockiness reignites your irritation. Annoyance making you bolder than you really are, you charge at him, crossing the distance between you two in a stride, stopping close— too close. He doesn't back off.

"What's wrong with you?" you snarl. "Nothin'," he retorts, imperturbable.

It's actually the first time you’re overlooking him. You may be enjoying it a bit too much. Nevermind the fact that you've had to wedge yourself between his parted legs to get there.

You frown, unconvinced by his answer.

“Did Soap contaminate you?”

Bargaining to be cleared out earlier was the Scotsman's trademark.

“Johnny throws a fit cos he hates feeling useless. That's not what I'm doing.”

A smirk stretches your lips.

“Oh, no? I'm sure your reasons are much more noble.”

“Doesn't matter. Got what I wanted anyway.”

He's way too self-satisfied for a man in his underwear.

You throw an unequivocal look in the direction of his injury.

“What you wanted? A still open wound?”

“You.”

He replied without missing a beat, as confident as usual. It is both alluring and aggravating.

“And your idea of wooing me is making me upset?”

You don't add “because if it is, that's really fucking stupid” out loud, but you’re sure he got the message through your tone.

“Nah. But you're more honest when you’re angry. Gutsier.”

You only realize he slipped his index and middle fingers in your trouser loops when he sharply tugs at them. Off balance, you steady yourself by catching his shoulders.

Taking advantage of the strip of bare skin between your shirt and bottoms, the pads of his thumbs idly stroke your hip bones. The contact sends electricity through you, shivers of pleasure running down your sides.

“Ghost,” you start, severe, trying not to let the effect his touch has on you show in your voice.

“Simon,” he counters, surly. “Told ya it's Simon when we're alone, didn't I?”

He did, but you didn’t think he was serious. If that's what it takes to get him to listen… you’ll play by his rules.

“Simon. What's the rest of your brilliant plan? I'm here, but I can’t stitch you up.”

“How ‘bout a deal. I'll stop resisting… for a price.”

You raise an amused eyebrow.

“What kind of price?”

“A kiss.”

You snort. You didn’t believe him capable of something so… puerile.

“With the mask on?”

He doesn't move a muscle to get rid of it.

“Take it off.”

You usually wouldn’t obey what sounds like an order so easily, but it's the first time you get to touch the skull. Slipping two fingers between skin and cloth, you slowly roll up the mask all the way under his nose.

You gently trace the scars surrounding his lips. Then, the second you feel him relax, grip on your hips slackening and intensity of his gaze waning, you grab the bottom of his mask and drag it back down vigorously, making the holes for the eyes land way too low for him to see anything.

“If you thought you'd get a reward for acting out, you've got another think coming.”

[ncityzen]

got my blood test results back there's multiple things wrong with me I kinda got the vibe already ✌️

[tacticalhimbo]

fave comments from hbomberguy's newest video

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2024 EDIT: SIGHHHH...

since this is my most popular post here. regrettably. i'm amending the original and making it worth something.

that is why i am reminding you all:

don't watch this. don't watch his comeback don't give this asshole the attention he craves. he's a racist. he's a transphobe. he's a misogynist.

he is not worth the time, nor the effort. nothing he says is genuine. he lost all credibility, has stolen so much from so many people, and i doubt he would ever genuinely put the work in to rebuild it.

instead, check out the work of queer video essayists who actually care about their craft and/or have been ripped off by somerton:

or check out the work of jes tom, one of several prominent individuals that somerton has stolen work from:

and the work of gita jackson, who has made an atricle about what little options the creators somerton profited off of had (and likely continue to have):

also just... remember that while we have the privilege to have our laughs about something like this, many don't.

make sure that you aren't writing off this, or the ongoing predstrogen situation here on tumblr, or any similar situations, as something light-hearted. as something entertaining. respect the spaces of those involved in any "social media controversy", especially if they are part of a marginalized group.

their safety is more important than our entertainment ♡

[appsa]

Its a privilege to have people you can call upon to help you when you encounter a situation that is beyond your control, and I'm never more conscious of that than when my friend Mahmoud ( @ma7moudgaza2 ) tells me about what he is dealing with in gaza right now.

Due to the siege being carried out by the zionist occupation, experts are reporting that north gaza will be suffering from severe famine in the coming days if things remain unchanged. Mahmoud's family will have to suffer through these harsh conditions during this coming winter for no fault of their own, and at the young age of 21, Mahmoud is bearing the responsibility of having to raise funds to help his family with no one to turn to for help.

Right now Mahmoud's fundraiser is dying. he still urgently needs funds to meet his family's basic needs and prepare for winter. They need blankets, warm clothes, baby formula and diapers, food and medicines- so please consider lending them a helping hand during this dire time of need 🙏 please share and donate anything you can spare to Mahmoud's fundraiser. No amount is too little and every donation can have an impact greater than you can possibly know.

[Verified]

[yzzart]

WHEN I WAS LED TO YOU... ── KENJI SATO

── summary: Kenji could get used to his routine, but, only with you by his side.

── word count: 982!

── warnings: F!reader, nothing intense, mention of Emi and Mina, Kenji being a little needy.

“Come on…” — A voice, entering the melody with softness and familiarity, passed through the player’s ears. — “…i know you’re awake.” — The statement was accompanied by a laugh.

Kenji could easily — in fact, completely — conclude that that voice belonged to an angel; even though he doesn't admit to being so religious, openly. — By having his eyes closed, in satisfied tiredness and drowsiness, he was more likely to believe in his conclusion.

Even in unpleasant, unstable situations and, insanely, worries about his life — like worrying about his stats in games, trying not to destroy the city while fighting some monster, and teaching Emi something practical and not blunt — and not wanting to hear or see nothing in front of him, Kenji had his refuge; a place to feel safe and at peace, at home.

“Ken…” — You voice pleaded, with more sweetness and, trying, to mix a little seriousness. In addition to moving between the thin, silky sheets of your body, wanting to get even closer to the boy.

In fact, he could melt into the bed, right there, just to hear your voice crying out to him like that.

Releasing a brief sigh, and pulling a breathing line, inhaling your scent, which was stuck to the pillow, Kenji tried to communicate with a mumble; which even he himself had no chance of understanding. — Perhaps, his consciousness still remained trapped in his sleep.

Because you found his action funny, your laugh, a little more hoarse, enveloped Ken's ears again; automatically forming a placid smile on his lips. — Moving his head, the young boy, with his eyes sensitive to the light, comes across your image resting on the pillow and covered, just enough, with the white sheet.

Sato was mentally grateful for the privilege of waking up every day with this vision.

"Good morning, my love." — You said, without holding back your wide smile; something that captivated and welcomed Ken's chest. — Your orbs moved, without haste or greed, across the boy's face, memorizing, for countless times, every little dot that existed in the region.

"Morning..." — He replied, followed by a yawn and another grumble; a sudden and unexpected movement was caused in the bed, obviously, it was the player's body snuggling against your. — Like he wants to fit in with you. — "What time is it please…?"

“Hm…” — Your eyes crossed the clock next to the bed. — “Soon, it will be 9:30.” — With his head buried in your neck, Sato let out a whimper, causing a tickle.

“It’s not possible…” — He complained, almost whimpering; as a sign of caress, your hand entered your lover's soft black hair, causing affection and tenderness.

The oldest settled down, and, briefly, relieving a growl, memorizing a purr; feeling on your skin, a satisfied smile adored by the attention. — A true paradise for young Sato and he had no problem admitting it.

“I think someone forgot about the interview they promised for today, right?” — He definitely forgets; by the way his head moved from where it was, and how wide his eyes were, Ken had nowhere to run. — “Yeah, you forgot.” — You raised one of your eyebrows.

“Wasn’t it due tomorrow?” — He questioned, still not believing and with some messy black locks standing out on her forehead. — “I’m sure i had it scheduled for tomorrow.” — He rushed into words. — “Actually, i’m not so sure.”

End of the season, therefore, decisive games for the team and more efforts towards a high level of dedication; it also meant several interviews and moments of questioning about the games, his teammates and his personal life. — Sato understood that it was important, of course, it was part of being a baseball star, however, when trying to balance his life as an Ultraman, a player and, recently, the father of a giant baby lizard, it wasn't such a simple thing.

He wasn't alone, not to mention Mina, and, thankfully, he had you by his side. — Trying, as much as possible, and persisting in helping him; even when, thinking about your care and certain risks, he warned you that he didn't need it. — Evidently, the guidelines were not followed, for a pleasant reason. — And now, seeing you taking care of Emi, as if she were your child, lit up Sato's eyes.

“It really is today, Ken.” — You confirmed it and, unsurprisingly, another wave of mumbles and incomprehensible words and rolled eyes. — “At least, it will be the last one before they enter the rest period.” — Your hand moved along Sato's long, strong, bare arm, reinforcing his attention.

“At least there is a bright side.” — He murmured, shaking his head, prolonging his thoughts, at the same time, reusing the contact of your hand against his skin. — “I need to take a break.” — He said, turning towards you. — “Urgently.” — Like a somewhat defenseless creature, he returned to his comfort, now, with his head under your chin.

"I know, honey." — Your fingers stroked Kenji's hair, for the second time, while his arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you, with the need to keep you close to him. — “And you will soon.” — Subtly, and delicately, your voice soothed him. — “Don’t worry about Emi, i’ll take care of her for today.” — Kenji thanked, once again and mentally. — “And maybe we’ll make a list of what we can do during these days off and she’ll go along with us.”

Your boyfriend's familiar, radiant laugh spread throughout the room, resounding in your chest. — For a short time, Kenji had understood his relationship with Emi and achieved a paternal image; visibly, it wasn't just him. — The small, and immense, baby witnessed you as a second mother.

“Yes, yes, of course.” — He pulled away, coming face to face with you, looking into your eyes, in pure ecstasy and passion. — “You’re the best, dear.” — Bringing his lips to your forehead, Kenji gave you a long, careful kiss.

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Or Someone Finds The Lid.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader x Yandere!Geto (JJK).

Word Count: 8.0k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @elsecrytt.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Prolonged Captivity, Severe Infantilization, Forced Deepthroating, Double Penetration, Wildly Unhealthy Dynamics, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Geto Suguru has an Oral Fixation, Gojo Satou has a Mommy Kink, and Nonconsensual Drug Use. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part One]

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

It had to be close to the hundredth time you’d in the past week, in the days since you woke up in a distressingly pastel bedroom, hostage to your two always worryingly possessive, but only recently deranged boyfriends. You knew, more concretely, that it was around the eleventh time you’d spouted that exact line today and the fourth time in the past hour, and as always, you were answered with a sympathetic glance, a patronizingly sweet smile. You could only be thankful it was coming from Satoru, this time. Suguru would’ve been much more condescending.

“Because we love you.” Another common sentiment, purred with just as much enthusiasm as it had been the first time you’d heard it, or the twelfth, or the forty-seventh. “And because you look good in pink.”

You sighed audibly, and Satoru pretended not to notice – only pulling you that much closer and resting his head on your shoulder. You were quickly learning that personal space, like many prior luxuries you hadn’t known to enjoy, was a right that Satoru and Suguru could revoke at will. Currently, your body was folded against Satoru’s – your back slotted against his chest and his legs spread on either side of you, the chain still attached to your ankle spread out over the mattress and the handheld console he was only partially focused on balanced on your lap. You tried to treasure the opportunity to stare mindlessly at a screen (a special privilege, considering your usual means of entertainment consisted of crayons, elementary-grade chapter books, and a plastic tea set), but for whatever reason, watching Satoru play Animal Crossing for three consecutive hours was just as under stimulating as it had been pre-kidnapping.

“That’s not a real answer.” You nudged your elbow into his chest, and when that didn’t work, pushed at his arm, just trying to get his attention. Yet another perk of your newly assigned position in this relationship – Satoru and Suguru had never made an exceptional effort to listen to you before, but now, you might as well have been speaking another language. “This is just—It’s just been so much, and it’s all so frustrating, and I don’t—”

And, just like that, you were tearing up – your vision going foggy as you struggled to hold back tears, to swallow down the whine building at the base of your throat. It was less that you’d been crying more easily and more than you were always on the verge of tears; your anger and frustration and confusion constantly at their peaks, just waiting for an excuse to spill over and leak out. Immediately, Satoru dropped his console, cooing softly as he scooped you up and turned you around. You moved to hide your face, but he was faster, more determined – his hands cupping your cheeks before you could swat him away. You weren’t crying yet, not really, but he took pains to hum and kiss away the few tears that escaped despite your best efforts. It was alarming, that crying was the only thing that consistently got them to hear you out. You tried not to think about the implications of that when paired with the pastel-pink aesthetic and the overall toddler-adjacent treatment.

“I’m really frustrated, ‘toru,” you repeated, melting into his hands. There was another coo, another peck to your forehead, before you went on. “I just— I need to know why you’re doing this. You can tell me that much, can’t you?”

“I’ve already told you, baby. It’s because we—” You cut in with a miserable, heart-breakingly pathetic sniffle, and Satoru pouted, shaking his head. Still, he broke quickly enough. “Look, you know that Suguru and I had it kinda rough before we met you, right? When we were growing up, I mean.”

Vaguely. You knew that Suguru’s parents died while he was in high school, that it’d been some kind of freak accident, but he didn’t like to talk about it. You’d met Satoru’s family once, but ‘met’ might’ve been the wrong word for it. Really, you’d sat in the antechamber of an estate the side of a small shopping mall for a little over an hour, answering questions asked by a woman who hadn’t introduced herself before being informed that, while you were not deemed a suitable partner for Satoru, you also weren’t dangerous enough to be worth the effort it would take to actively keep you away from him. Most of the time, you just tried to pretend that neither of your former partners, current captors had any immediate family.

Reluctantly, you nodded, and Satoru rewarded you with another kiss – this one to the corner of your jaw. “I know you probably don’t get it, but me and Suguru – we care about you, we care about you a lot. And the world’s a really, really dangerous place. If something happened to you out there…” He trailed off, laughing airily. An arm looped around your waist, pulling you into his lap, his chest. Instead of trying to resist, you curled against him, burying your face in his shirt as he rubbed slow, small circles into the small of your back. “You’re better off here. Getting to keep you all to ourselves is just a bonus.”

You wanted to scream, to bash your fists against his chest, to point out that they were the only people who’d ever isolated, assaulted, or kidnapped you, but he was doing what you asked him to, and the worst thing you could’ve done was give him a reason not to be as generous in the future. “…I don’t understand why you had to do—” You nodded towards your clothes – a set of bright pink cotton pajamas dotted with strawberries – then the rest of the room. “—this, though, if you’re trying to keep me safe. Couldn’t you have just… not?”

Another laugh, this one more sincere. “That part’s just for us.” This time, when he squeezed you against his chest, he didn’t let go until you were squirming against him, struggling to breathe. “Suguru does tend to let the roleplay get a little out-of-hand, but it really does help. There’s just something about seeing you all sweet n’ dressed up, surrounded by cute, soft things...” He trailed off with an airy laugh. “Makes me feel… secure, y’know? Like we’re keeping you safe.”

Something thick and jagged caught in your throat. “…this was Suguru’s idea?”

If he heard you, then that was a question he wasn’t interested in answering. “I meant the other part, too.” And then, with a slightly longer, more lingering kiss to the apex of your throat. “You look really good in pink.”

You felt it a second later – a familiar shape pressing into your ass, already worryingly stiff. You pulled away from him, your disgust too reflexive to hide. “…it gets you hard to see adult women dressed like first-graders?”

“No, princess.” A pause, a sudden nip to the side of your neck. “It gets me hard when you dress like a first-grader.”

Thankfully, before you had time to start to unpack that, you heard the bedroom door open and glanced over your shoulder to find Suguru leaning against the frame. Concern was written clearly across his expression, but it dulled to affectionate exasperation when he saw Satoru wiping away your non-existent tears. “I thought I heard a struggle,” he explained, unprompted. You hadn’t put up much of a physical fight yet, but they were both clearly concerned you would – the literal chain around your ankle was evidence enough of that. “Is it time for the little princess to take her medicine?”

You seized up at the mention of your ‘medicine’ – sedatives administered in the form of tiny, heart-shaped pills that left you exhausted and disoriented for hours at a time, if they didn’t knock you out entirely. It was what they’d used the night they’d taken you, and Suguru seemed to like to pull them out whenever you cried, or screamed, or did anything they should’ve known to expect from an acclimating victim.

To his credit, Satoru didn’t jump at the opportunity to drug you into oblivion. Not this time, at least. “She got a little overwhelmed. I took care of it.”  You slumped against him, letting yourself relax. That was your mistake, really. Maybe you should’ve had more realistic expectations, too. “But,” he went on, pushing another, sloppier kiss into your neck. “She’s still pretty fragile. A few hours off probably wouldn’t hurt.”

It was awful – how easily they could talk about you like some distant, abstract subject, how quickly they seemed to forget you were capable of listening when not addressed directly. With a smile, Suguru moved forward, resting one knee on the edge of your mattress while Satoru held you in place – keeping you from scrambling back as far as your chain would allow. You tried to grit your teeth, to keep your mouth shut, but Suguru only clicked his tongue, cupping your face with one hand while pressing something small and chalky against your pursed lips with the other. “Darling,” he drawled, infusing as much syrupy condescension into the pet name as was humanly possible. “You remember what happens to bad girls who don’t do what they’re told, don’t you?”

Instantly, your heart dropped. You remembered.

Driving your nails into your palms, you unlocked your jaw and hesitantly opened your mouth. Suguru barely waited for your lips to part before shoving the pill past your teeth and down your throat, keeping two lingers lodged in your airway even as you sputtered and gagged around him. It was less that you swallowed his pill and more that you would’ve had to choke down anything he all-but force-fed you, but whatever you called it, Suguru was satisfied – drawing back with a pleased hum only to tap his saliva-coated fingers against Satoru’s lips, instead. You shut your eyes, but it wasn’t enough.

The last thing you heard were the wet, stomach-turning noises of Satoru’s affection before everything went fuzzy.

~

You only really acted out once – about three weeks in, when the initial adrenaline was starting to fade and the slow, vicious dread of prolonged captivity had just begun to set in. You weren’t allowed to leave your windowless, ambiently lit bedroom, and by end of the first week, time had turned into something viscous and unforgiving, the endless hours only broken up by visits from Satoru and Suguru. It was hard not to be constantly on edge – unsure if you’d been alone for hours and minutes, simultaneously dying to see them again and hoping you never would. It was hard to tell what they were thinking, when you were so caught in in your own spiraling thoughts to try and guess at theirs.

Speaking of – their dynamic had become a little clearer, even if how things had spiraled out of control so quickly was still lost on you. You and Satoru had always been the dominant personalities in your relationship, with Suguru as the calming presence that leveled the two of you out, setting arguments and keeping you from tearing out each other’s throats. Now, though, the roles were reversed. Satoru was happy enough to spend most of his time treating you like an oversized, particularly uncooperative stuffed animal; something to cuddle and coo over, but not necessarily train or expect to reciprocate. Suguru, though…

Suguru had expectations.

“I need you to hold still, love.”

Suguru’s fingers brushed over your spine as he fiddled with the complex array of buttons lining the back of tonight’s nightgown. You’d seen your closest, knew they must’ve spent a small fortune on dresses and shoes and accessories, but Suguru still seemed to prefer you in sheer, cotton nightgowns and lacey lingerie and humiliatingly childish loungewear – nothing you would’ve been able to wear outside of home, even if you’d put it on willingly. It was a blessing that Suguru and Satoru were as busy as they were – Satoru with his classes and Suguru with his religious group. Most of the time, you’d find Suguru’s chosen outfit on the foot of your bed and be trusted to dress yourself. Most of the time.

Just not tonight.

“Someone’s a little antsy.” It was Satoru, this time, as unhelpful as ever. He was sprawled across your bed, toying idly with your chain while you sat in front of a vanity on the other side of the room, deliberately avoiding your reflection in the tri-fold mirror. “You should’ve let me play with her in the tub. Then, she wouldn’t have the energy to squirm.”

You felt your face burn. As if being forced to drink out of sippy cups and color with crayons wasn’t enough, bathtime was quickly becoming one of your most unbearable daily trails. Suguru always made sure things stayed above-board, but having to watch Satoru fuck his own fist while Suguru lovingly dictated where, when, and how roughly to clean yourself wasn’t much better than the alternative.

“Absolutely not. You’re too rough, and the last thing we want is for our princess to get bruised because you can’t wait another half an hour.” Fenagling the last button into place, Suguru straightened his back, sighing contentedly. “Can you turn around for me?”

Biting down on the side of your tongue, you shifted on the velvet-cushioned stool, your back pressing into the edge of the vanity’s counter as you faced Suguru. You’d made a point of not looking at yourself, but you could imagine what he saw – a thin nightgown clinging to your damp skin, your posture shrunken and your eyes downcast, every part of you made to seem small and helpless. If the feeling of his gaze burning into you wasn’t telling enough, the overwhelming delight audible in his voice would’ve given him away in a heartbeat. “Satoru, you have your phone, right? I want a picture. And—oh.” Your eyes darted in his direction just in time to see him pull a stuffed animal from one of the larger stacks; a large, white rabbit teddy, its button eyes an overly familiar shade of blue. He held it by its ears as he handed it to you. “Hold onto this for a second, love.”

You felt something tighten in your chest. You were in a bad position. You were in a bad place. You needed to be careful, and yet, when you finally managed to say something, you could only seem to spit out the one thing you knew he wouldn’t want to hear. “I… I really don’t want to take a picture right now, if that’s alright.”

To his credit, Suguru’s didn’t falter, his grin only wavering slightly. “Love,” He paused, sighed. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to.”

“I know, but—” Your breath hitched in your throat. Really, it was a miracle you weren’t already crying. “Please, Suguru. Not right now.”

His expression darkened, and yet, the gentle sigh that slipped past his lips was nothing short of tender. Still holding the rabbit, he reached out – catching the lace of your nightgown’s collar with two fingers. For a second, he just played with the delicate fabric, careful not to damage it.

Then, before you could think to react, his fist was around your neck and you were being slammed into the vanity.

There was enough force behind the collision to splinter the wood upon impact, to knock the air out of your lungs and seed an awful knot of blinding pain in the back of your head. You gasped, but it was too late – his fist tightened around your throat and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move save what it took for your hands to find his and dig your nails into his wrist, his forearm, his knuckles, whatever you could reach. You never would’ve been able to pry him off, but you didn’t need to. He released you as abruptly as he’d lunged, and without his support, your body dropped off of the vanity’s now-dented desk and onto the carpeted floor, your dress falling into a limp heap around you. You were too shocked to cry, to sob, to scream. Suguru and Satoru had kidnapped you, dehumanized you, isolated you, but neither of them had ever hurt you. They’d never—

Except, that wasn’t true, was it? They had hurt you. The first thing Suguru ever didwas hurt you, bending you over his knee the second you disobeyed him, and Satoru helped.

For your own sake, you decided to consider this an escalation, a new development. Something neither of them would’ve been capable of, back when you still considered them your Suguru and your Satoru.

 You also decided, still for your own sake, that you couldn’t afford to think about this any longer. Suguru was already moving on, lowering himself to your height, pouting as he raked his fingers through your now-disheveled hair and evaluated your newly wrinkled dress. “I’m sorry, princess. I must’ve lost my temper. I know you must be upset – having your pretty outfit ruined and all.”

He waited a beat, then asked, “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

If you hadn’t been so scared, you might’ve slapped him. Instead, you just bit down on your bottom lip and mumbled an unsure “I… I’m sorry?”

“For what, exactly?”

“For—For talking back, and making you angry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, love, I know. You would never mean to do anything like that.” He was still holding onto that fucking rabbit. You felt its velvet-soft material brush against your leg as he placed it, almost carefully, on the floor next to you. “I’ll tell you what – there don’t have to be any pictures. Why don’t you take your medicine, and we can allgo to bed?”

“No!” It was a purely automatic response, as reflexive as lashing out and latching onto his arm. When you realized what you were doing, you pulled away with a jolt, forcing your hands back into your lap and staring wide-eyed at the floor. “I mean, I’m sorry, I just—” You swallowed harshly. “Isn’t there… uh, another option? Please?”

Suguru opened his mouth, but Satoru cut in before he had the chance to answer. “Think it’s time to break out her pacifier, Suguru?”

You perked up. No part of you wanted to suck on a piece of plastic for the entertainment of your captors, sure, but it was better than the alternative. Fuck, you were having trouble of thinking of something that wasn’t.

Suguru seemed to like the idea, too. He shot Satoru an appreciative smile before pushing himself to his feet, before turning his attention back to you, eagerly waiting for your next bout of psychological torture.

It was only when he reached for the waistband of his sweatpants that you realized your mistake.

You might’ve protested – or, whined, at least – but the back of your skull still ached, and you could still see Satoru smirking in your peripheral, and he was already forcing his boxers below his hips, already curling a hand around the shaft of his cock. Disgustingly, terrifyingly, he was half-hard; his bloated tip flushed a darker shade of red, beads of arousal leaking from his blunt head and dripping down his shaft. Your thoughts seemed to waver, then fry, then blot out altogether – like a video game glitching in the middle of a cut scene. Maybe you should’ve just sat still for the fucking picture after all.

“The poor thing looks so startled,” Suguru cooed, glancing to Satoru. “Why don’t you lend her a hand?”

You were vaguely aware of Satoru moving, shifting, pushing himself off of your bed and crouching behind you. His thumb pushed past your lips and hooked your lower jaw easing your mouth open with as little grace as you had remaining dignity. You tried to bite down, obviously, but Suguru took hold of your hair and pulled – the sharp spike of pain immediately dispelling any thoughts of disobedience. “He’s helping you,” Suguru chimed, his voice taking on a cloying overtone. “You’ll have to thank him properly later on. When your mouth isn’t full, I mean.”

It wasn’t, but that changed quickly. Suguru was kind enough (or cruel enough) to move slowly, easing the head of his cock past your lips first, letting it sit on your tongue as you fought not to cringe against the bitter, musky taste. Satoru pulled his hand away as Suguru eased another inch into your mouth, then another, then another – letting out a rough groan as his tip hit the back of your throat with more than half of his shaft to spare. You fought the urge to gag, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’d given him head before, but it’d always been on your own terms, with Satoru waiting on the sidelines to bail you out if you ever got tired of choking on your boyfriend’s stupidly big dick. Now, though, Satoru didn’t seem to want to do anything but breathe down your neck, and you doubted your consent was a factor either of them would stop to genuinely consider.

Ultimately, your enthusiastic cooperation proved unnecessary. Suguru kept his fingers tangled in your hair, his blunt nails biting into your scalp as he manually bobbed your head – slowly, at first, then faster, with enough force to leave your jaw sore after less than a minute of being split around his shaft. Saliva and pre-cum drooled from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chest and onto your nightgown, but if Suguru cared, the feeling of your throat convulsing around him was enough to warrant a momentary lapse in decency. “T-that’s it,” he muttered, mostly under his breath. “Good, good girl. See what happens when you’re well-behaved?”

You felt Satoru shift behind you, his hands skirting over your back as he skillfully undid the buttons Suguru had spent so much time fussing over. A pair of large, velvet-soft hands grazed over your waist, then your sides, before reaching your chest and cupping your tits – kneading the soft tissue like a pair twin stress balls fitted perfectly to his palms. “She looks better already,” Satoru laughed, thumbs swiping over your nipples. “You’re gonna thank mommy for being so nice with you, right?”

Suguru snorted. “I’m mommy?”

“Mhm. ‘cause you’re so pretty and you take such good care of our little princess.” He nudged you, propping his chin on your shoulder. “Go on, baby. Tell mommy how much you love him.”

You choked something out – more of a desperate whine than anything coherent – and Suguru threw his head back, cursing silently as his pace turned from sloppy to erratic. His cock battered into your throat with every thrust, your air supply constantly somewhere between minimal and nonexistent. It was only as the outskirts of your vision started to fade that Suguru hissed, gritting his teeth as he dragged your head into his hips, your nose pressing into his pubic bone and his cock so far down your throat, you could practically feel him in your lungs. A sudden twitch, a groaned exhale was all the warning you received before you felt something hot and thick fill your throat, your mouth, your diaphragm. He held you there for a moment, then another – savoring the sound of your fractured whimpering all-but drowned by his cum – before letting you go, watching through half-lidded eyes as you collapsed into Satoru’s waiting arms.

You lurched forward, moving to spit, to get him out of you, but Satoru’s hand was already covering your mouth – determined to keep Suguru’s taste on your tongue for that much longer. At the same time, you felt something small and soft being dropped onto your thighs, heard the shutter of a camera above you. Rather than trying to look at Suguru, you let your gaze fall to your lap.

Or, rather, the perfectly white, perfectly posed rabbit now resting peacefully on top of it.

~

It was two months before the chain came off – meaning, before Suguru and Satoru were happy enough with either your behavior or their security to let you roam freely (with heavy supervision, of course). It went without saying that you were ecstatic. You could barely sit still while Satoru undid the shackle, barely listen while Suguru told you their plans for the night – dinner and a movie marathon, not totally dissimilar to something you might’ve suggested when you still had the authority to be making suggestions. It didn’t matter. You were just happy to be doing anything, especially if it meant you got to leave that godawful room.

You only realized that you’d still been picturing your old apartment when you stepped out of the bedroom an abruptly realized you weren’t in an apartment at all, but a house – two stories with every window looking out onto a fence so tall, you would’ve had to be on the roof to see over it. It was decorated sparely, with what few shelves there were littered sporadically with Satoru’s gundams or parts of Suguru’s ongoing trinket collection, but minimalism was an appreciated change compared to the ongoing sensory nightmare that was your bedroom. You gawked at every empty surface, every plain white wall as Suguru herded you to the kitchen, where Satoru was busy plating what looked like udon. The seating arrangement was strange – there were only two chairs at the dining room table, but you were too caught up in your own euphoria to care. You grabbed a bowl and a pair of chopsticks, fell into a seat, and—

“Sweetheart,” Suguru started, his voice somewhat strained. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh,” You glanced at your bowl, abruptly confused. “Eating? I think?”

“Almost, but not quite. I guess I can’t blame you for not knowing.” He rounded the table, coming to stand at your side. You tried to get up, but it only took a hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Even something as simple as using utensils can be dangerous for little ones like you. Me and Satoru will be feeding you by hand, from now on.”

It was strange, really – how many little deaths you could die before going numb to it. It was terrible, how many times you could hear one of the two men you loved most in the world say you were more incapable than a literal child before it all just turned to static.

You wondered, distantly, if Suguru was offended that you didn’t engage with this part of him more willingly. It was clearly sincere, if fucked-up, and if he’d ever bothered to ask, you probably would’ve agreed to try it – not that you would’ve had much of a choice, in the later stages of your relationship. It was different for Satoru – as long as you were trapped and at his mercy, he’d be happy. Suguru wanted something… different, more complex. Suguru wanted reliance.

Suguru wanted to break you down.

“If you say so.” You heard your voice, felt your mouth moving, but you weren’t talking. “Can I… um, would it be alright if I asked for something, first?”

Suguru’s satisfaction was almost palpable. “Of course. Anything for you.”

“I think I’d like to take my medicine, now.”

Suguru answered quickly, but not quickly enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Satoru reach for the cabinet above the stove before thinking better of it and glancing over his shoulder, as if to make sure you hadn’t seen. It took everything you had not to react as Suguru responded.

“Of course,” he said with an airy laugh, nearly purring. “Not right now, though – we’ll wait until it’s closer to your bedtime. Try to focus on dinner.”

You only nodded eagerly, smiling sincerely for the first time in weeks.

~

It took two weeks for you to get your hands on their pills (you stole two, just in case), and three more to convince Satoru that a field trip – his description, not yours – wouldn’t be that big of a deal, not if you kept it short, not if Suguru didn’t find out. He’d always been ecstatic when you visited him at his university (a historic private school, so unlike the local community college you’d gone to, the one you missed with all your heart), and besides, what was worst that could happen? He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight, and the students were still on winter break. You could even wear your old clothes, just to make sure you didn’t attract attention. It’d just be the two of you, all alone in his office, with hours and hours and hours to kill. Really, how could it possibly go wrong?

You waited until you reached his office to slip both stolen pills into his coffee. He’d barely gotten his belt off before the effects kicked-in, but still, you waited until he’d been reduced to a drooling, half-conscious shell of himself before making your escape.

You’d been right – his campus really was deserted. You hurried past dark lecture halls and empty offices as you rushed in a direction you hoped would lead to an exit, glanced out of windows that looked onto lifeless courtyards as you thought about what to do next. The police weren’t an option. They hadn’t hurt you, not in any way you’d be able to prove, and even if you had the evidence, Satoru was rich, and to the law, there was no greater proof of innocence. You tried to think of phone numbers, of addresses, but you hadn’t had many friends before meeting Satoru and Suguru, and they’d made sure to whittle that unimpressive number down to zero over the course of your relationship. You cursed under your breath, even though there was no one around to hear you. You should’ve taken Satoru’s wallet after he passed out. You wouldn’t have been able to use to his cards, but it would’ve been nice to—

You rounded the next corner, then froze.

At the end of the hall, like an omen of death granted human form, stood Suguru.

You took a faltering step backward before breaking into a full, heart-pounding sprint. Suguru wasn’t close, but he was close enough. He let you get all of three steps away before fist curled around the back of your shirt, his muscular arm wrapping around your midriff, trapping you with as much effort as it might’ve taken to lift a kitten by its scruff. Still, you thrashed, struggled, fought – throwing your elbow into his stomach and kicking at his legs as he lifted you off the ground entirely, pinning your body against his chest. He wasn’t supposed to be here. You were told he’d be at his shrine today, all day, with a thousand little things to do that’d keep him distracted until you got away. This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t supposed to be—

“Calm down,” he muttered, his voice distant, cold. “You’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

Immediately, you went still. It was a vague threat, but it was a threat, and Suguru had never threatened you before.

Or, you didn’t think he had, at least. It was getting so hard to tell, after everything they’d done to you.

He didn’t sigh, or shake his head, or speak again. He only lowered you back to the ground and, after taking your hand in his, led you back down the vacant halls, past the abandoned classrooms, and to the door of Satoru’s office. He paused outside of it, his dark eyes falling to you in a way you could only describe as void-like. You had to wonder why you every thought you knew him.

“You were trying to…?”

He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. Reluctantly, you nodded, and Suguru turned away from you, shouldering open the office door.

Satoru was on his feet, but only barely. He was supporting himself on the corner of his desk, his pale face flushed red and his clothes noticeably disheveled. At some point, he’d lost his sunglasses, and you watched his sky-blue eyes go wide as Suguru crossed the threshold with you following shortly after. “Suguru, princess.” His voice was weak, breathy. You could only imagine how you’d sounded strung out on their sedatives. “How far did she get? She caught me off-guard, but—”

Suguru let go of your hand and closed the distance between him and Satoru. You heard the sharp crack before you could process what he was doing – saw Suguru raise his hand and Satoru’s head snap to the side without ever linking either action with the other. Even Satoru, always so resilient, took a moment to recover, his expression going blank as Suguru spoke, unphased. “If you ever leave me, I’ll break your legs so badly, you’ll never be able to walk again.” You didn’t have to wonder if he meant it. It didn’t matter if he meant it. The words alone left shaking too violently to move, let alone run. “And if you do anything to help her, I’ll gut you alive.”

Your eyes darted to Satoru, to his visibly swollen cheek. Somehow, he seemed even more flushed than he had seconds before, his eyes half-lidded and his lips slightly parted. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he looked—

Oh, god.

You should’ve gotten away when you had the chance.

Of course, things only got worse when he opened his mouth. “Yes, mommy.”

“Get on the couch and lay down. It’s not like you’re good for anything else, right now.”

“I will, mommy.”

He obeyed mechanically, collapsing onto the well-worn sofa that sat against the far wall. You’d always thought it was too big, too bulky, especially in such a confined state. When you asked Satoru why he bothered to keep it, he’d just laughed and claimed he liked to keep his guests comfortable.

You doubted you counted as a guest. Then again, you doubted you were going to be very comfortable, either.

Suguru glanced over his shoulder, his lifeless stare boring into you. “Straddle his waist and help him undress. You did this, so you’ll be taking responsibility.”

Fear was a surprisingly strong motivation. You were scrambling onto the sofa before you had a chance to think, planting a knee on either side of Satoru’s hips as you fumbled clumsily with his shirt. For his part, Satoru was either incapable of or unwilling to help you – a distant, careless smile soon painting itself across his lips as he watched you struggle. When he did move, it was only to bring a hand to the back of your neck and drag you downward, his mouth crashing into yours. It was less of a kiss and more of a sloppy attempt to choke you to death with his tongue, but Satoru still groaned as you separated, his face immediately finding the crook of your neck. “So glad Suguru got you back,” he slurred, nuzzling into you. “He’s so hot when he gets all jealous like that.”

You were only half-listening to him, already distracted. Suguru had moved, too – kneeling behind you, his hands finding your hips and dragging them into the air. Your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties to the side, and just as abruptly, three of Suguru’s broad fingers were pushed into your cunt. You whimpered at the sudden, borderline painful intrusion, but Suguru only scoffed. “Be grateful you’re getting this much prep. It’s already more than you deserve.”

That didn’t do anything to stop the pain, though. Suguru was merciless – sheathing his digits to the knuckle, spreading his fingers apart, making it clear that he wasn’t doing this for your pleasure, even if he didn’t seem to be getting much out of it, either. You tried to shut your eyes, to grit your teeth and bare it, but any attempts to ignore reality were swiftly cut short by the feeling of his unoccupied hand coming down on your ass with enough force to bruise. “Did I say could stop?”

He hadn’t, but Satoru was making things difficult – keeping you slotted against him as closely as you could. As Suguru’s fingers fucked into you, you managed to get an arm between your body and his, for the waistband of his jeans down just far enough to earn a satisfied grunt from Suguru. Strangely, the worst part wasn’t the strain in your cunt, or the heat of Satoru’s cock pressing into your stomach, but the feeling of Satoru’s wide, toothy grin pressing into the side of your neck – tangible proof of his euphoria. It was awful – just how clearly he was enjoying this. At least Suguru had the decency to go blank.

It was too much too suddenly with too little build up, but Suguru knew your body and, more damningly, your body knew him. Barely a minute had passed before you felt arousal stain the inside of your thighs, before the sound of his digits plunging into you took on a distinctive wet quality. You let your head lull into Satoru’s chest and dig your teeth into your tongue, willing away any embarrassing noises that would’ve added to your ongoing degradation, but if Suguru cared, you couldn’t tell. He soldiered on with that brutal, unyielding pace, ignoring your clit entirely in favor of beating his frustration directly into your pussy. Really, it was a miracle you felt anything at all. Well, anything beyond pain, anyway.

It was only when you tensed against Satoru, when you finally let a single, fractured moan slip past your haphazardly sealed lips, that Suguru abruptly stopped; pulling out of you before you could fully process what was happening. You glanced over your shoulder, misplaced disappointment softening the harsher edges of your fear, but Satoru was quick to catch your chin – redirecting your attention back to him. “Where do you think you’re going, princess?” he asked, rocking his hips into yours. “You’ve gotta stay on my good side too, remembered?”

As if you could forget.

Behind you, Suguru glowered. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.” To Satoru, and then, to you, “Do it. Make sure he doesn’t cum.”

Your instructions were clear, albeit unappreciated. Satoru let you straighten your back, his hands kneading at your thighs as you picked yourself up and, as mindlessly as you could, aligned the head of his cock with your entrance. You wanted to move slowly, to give your abused cunt time to adjust, but Suguru proved uncharacteristically impatient; taking you by the shoulders and spearing you on Satoru’s cock before you could so much as consider protesting. You went stiff, your brain too busy trying to make sense of your sudden fullness to order your body to move, but Satoru didn’t seem to mind – only tightening his vice-like hold and bucking into you from below, his cock battering into the deepest, most vulnerable part of you without the slightest trace of concern.

You were too startled to make noise, but Satoru had always been so much louder than you, so much more eager to pour out his every little thought. “She’s so fucking tight,” he breathed, grinding into you. “Been ages since I had her on top of me, too. Almost forgot how—” A slight gasp, a pitchy whine, “Almost forgot how pretty she could get, sitting on her daddy’s lap.”

Your sight blurred, and a few seconds later, you realized you were crying. Suguru didn’t respond, but you heard fabric shifting, felt one of his hands disappear for a moment before returning, now on the center of your back. With more force than he really had to use, he shoved you back down, pressing you flat against Satoru as he maneuvered himself behind you. Space was limited, availability even more so, but still, it wasn’t until you felt the head of his cock press against your stuffed slit that you realized what he was doing.

“N—no,” It was almost impressive, just how quickly you abandoned what was left of your pride. You tried to pick yourself back up, but Satoru was a snare – an arm looking around your waist while the other found your hip, holding you still for Suguru. “Please, you can’t, it’s not—It won’t fit, and—”

And, just like that, Suguru was pushing into you, bottoming out in a single thrust. As his hips pressed into your ass and he let out a quiet, almost inaudible groan, you could only wonder if either of them had ever really loved you.

There was a lapse – more for their sakes than yours – before Satoru started moving, already acclimated. “Such a good girl,” he drawled, grinding into you, seemingly unhappy unless he and Suguru were both fully planted inside of you. “See? It’s not that bad, right? I knew you’d be able to handle it.”

But you couldn’t. Tears streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably, hitched sobbed and agonized moans trickling past your lips every time either of them moved. Suguru sucked in a shuddering breath, then planted a hand on the small of your back, thrusting into you sharp and deep – his movements a stark contrast to Satoru’s. The stretch along was unbearable. Even on your best days, you’d struggle to take either of them to the hilt. Taking both seemed fantastical, implausible, fatal. It was genuinely surprising that you weren’t already dead.

It was doubly as surprising, then, that it felt so good.

 Most of it had to be your own fried nerves trying to make the best of it, to get you through this as quickly and as painlessly as was possible. You weren’t in control of anything; not your hands as they clawed blindly at Satoru’s chest, not your hips as you bucked pitifully into Suguru, and certainly not your cunt as it clenched even tighter around the cocks splitting it open. Satoru let out an airy laugh, two fingers dropping to your neglected clit. “It’s okay, baby, you deserve to feel good too,” he gushed, pushing lazy circles into the small bundle of nerves, drawing out yet another miserable sob. “Told you she’d like it.”

“She’s not supposed to,” Suguru grunted, digging his nails into your waist. Still, that didn’t stop him from burying himself inside of you, his cock twitching against the walls of your cunt. You couldn’t be sure what it was – the fullness, maybe, or the overstimulation, or your own desperation to just get this over with – but your vision burnt white, your body convulsing against Satoru’s as you came undone around them. Satoru followed shortly after, digging his teeth into the curve of your neck as he pumped something searing and vileinto you. Suguru let out a rough, throaty growl – throwing his head forward and hilting himself entirely inside of you. You shook your head, pleading silently, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to notice, and even if he had, you doubted it would’ve been enough to stop him from cumming inside of you, from ensuring that no part of you was left uncorrupted.

There was a short period of numb, thoughtless stillness – filled only by Suguru’s panting, Satoru’s mindless cooing, and the absence of your voice. Suguru shifted, and for a second, you panicked, convincing yourself that there was more, that he wasn’t done – but he only pulled out of you, fixing his clothes with his eyes focused pointedly on the point where your cunt was still stretched around Satoru’s cock, where it leaked and drooled onto Satoru’s lap. You weren’t so resilient, letting your eyes fall shut and slumping against Satoru.

For the very first time, as you lost consciousness, you felt the smallest, tiniest, most microscopic spec of relief that, at the very least, you wouldn’t be responsible for cleaning yourself up.

~

“Stay in the car. I’ll call when it’s time for you to bring her in.”

The ride had been near-silent, only occasionally interrupted by an odd comment from Satoru or a hissed warning from Suguru. Suguru drove while Satoru held onto you in the back seat, keeping you gathered in his arms, his jacket draped loosely over your shoulders. Satoru only nodded as Suguru let himself out, making no move to follow. Whatever this was, they must’ve already talked about it while you were blacked out.

You waited until Suguru had disappeared into the house before speaking, your voice hoarse and unsteady. “He hit you.”

“Mhm. You did a number on my chest, too.”

“But—” You cut yourself off and started over. “He hit you.”

He flashed you a smile, as careless as it was dismissive. “What do you want me to say, baby?”

“That this insane. That he’s insane.” You crossed your arms over your chest, curling into yourself. “You can leave, Satoru – we can leave together. All we’d have to do is—” The air hitched in your throat, but you managed to snarl something out. “—fucking go.”

“And why would we want to do that, exactly?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

Satoru laughed, the sound breathy and light. “Because,” he said, nuzzling into your hair, “Suguru loves me. He loves us. You should know that – after today, especially.”

You opened your mouth, but shut it just as quickly.

This time, you had a feeling that he’d given you the only answer he was going to.

The next few minutes passed slowly. Satoru kept himself occupied, pushing slow, lingering kisses into your cheek and neck, while you stared mindlessly out of the window, trying to savor the last minutes of sunlight that you’d have for a long, long time. Eventually, Satoru’s phone buzzed. He didn’t even bother to check it before gathering you up in his arms and carrying you inside. You expected him to take you back to your bedroom, with its stuffed-animal lined shelves and bright pink walls and polished silver chain, but instead, he turned down a hallway you’d never seen before, into a bedroom that was distinctly not yours. Suguru was waiting for him, standing in the doorway to a dark closet. The edges of his lips quirked upward when he saw you. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was the closest thing you’d gotten to one from him all day.

Satoru placed you next to him, and your attention turned back to the closet. Any clothes or shoes had been cleared out to make room for a single, silver dog crate, nearly big enough to stretch from one wall to the other. The bottom was padded with a light pink blanket that you recognized from your bed, and a white rabbit plush had been left in the far right corner. A deadbolt hung, undone, from the open kennel door.

You might’ve broken down entirely, if you hadn’t been so devastated.

Suguru’s voice was deafening and serene, as beautifully composed as it was unspeakably terrible. “Get in, love.”

“I’m not—”

“You should probably listen to him,” Satoru cut in, placing a hand on your shoulder. “This is just about the nicest thing he suggested.”

You swallowed, your heart failing to beat. Out of some ancient, primal, preservatory instinct, your body moved towards the crate, falling to its knees and bowing its head to fit inside. The kennel was big for a dog, not for a person. You had just enough room to huddle against the farthest wall as Suguru slid the door into place, the deadbolt locking with a sadistic click.

“It really is a shame,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I was hoping you could be our darling princess for a little longer, but I’m sure you’ll make a much better bitch.”

Satoru helped him back to his feet, and together, they retreated back to the closet door, Satoru casting one more lovesick smile over his shoulder as he shut the door behind them, leaving you in total, endless, solitary darkness.

Your wretched sobs echoed off the barren walls as you finally started to cry.

[kazoo-world]

okay. i debated not posting this because I was worried I’d get death threats (that says a lot doesn’t it) but it needs to be said, because its upsetting me.

a woman who publicly says she feels very sane and has “never been to therapy” and who breaks up with her boyfriend in part because he can’t just “”get over”” his depression to love her the way she wants/needs does not.

I repeat, does not.

get to use the imagery she did in her fortnight video.

I’ve been seeing gifsets and screenshots all day of her chained to a bed but ~aesthetic~ and being fed a pill after a cheeky side eye and strapped to a glamourfied ECT machine and no one has said anything about it so I will. those images are genuinely triggering for me.

people have been restrained, forcefed pills, and given electroconvulsive therapy or subjected to the electric chair for severe mental illness against their will. these are not fun props anyone gets to throw around to express that they feel depressed or in a “manic phase” or like they were “raised in an asylum.”

she doesn’t know how a real asylum fried my grandmother’s brain or real cops restrained me because I was psychotic and manic. she doesn’t know what it feels like to be dehumanised that way.

do better. demand she do better, too.

edit: I say that this content is triggering to say that it causes real harm. I do still have a responsibility to myself to curate an internet experience for myself. this does not negate her responsibility to avoid replicating harmful tropes in art which is deeply influential. she does not get to co-opt institutionalization or psychiatric violence as a romanticized aesthetic or as a metaphor because real people like myself have suffered greatly under the things she is representing as glamorous or cool. institutionalization silences and violates mentally ill people in a way that marginalizes them, and that experience should be treated with sensitivity and care rather than being commodified to reduce stigma. if she had experienced these things, I might feel differently, but other ableist content on the record and her statements on her life and art indicate otherwise. she is a woman with immense privilege and power and should not be using that privilege and power to punch down on mental illness.

edit 2: I want you all to know I have seen your criticism. I will not edit the post but I do respect that she has had mental health struggles since that outdated quote. That is my mistake, I own that. My apologies.

However, mental health struggles =/ experience with psychiatric violence. Experiences of mental illness are heterogenous. Aestheticizing, romanticizing, and glamourizing mental hospitals is straight up gross regardless of your experience with mental illness. It’s tasteless and offensive.

I do understand metaphors. I think that her calling her life an asylum as a metaphor is in poor taste. I think her representing her relationship struggles with the imagery of a mental institution is insensitive given the impacts that real asylums and mental hospitals have had on my life and the lives of many others like me, so I had to say something about it.

It’s ableist to assume that critics of your fav “can’t read”, “don’t understand a metaphor” or “don’t have brains” when they clearly demonstrate that they are thinking critically. Do better.