#like if you want to stop forced mutilation its right there

[feralthembo]

"trans people are mutilating their bodies" oh so you care about organ mutilation? Cool how about instead of harassing trans people for our informed choices you do something about fat patients being forced into mutilating their bodies in the name of thinness in procedures that dont even keep the weight off despite literally keeping you from eating enough to survive because uh

This is more impactful than ooga booga gender surgery i prommy

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

i have left

hey everyone this will probably be the last thing i post on this blog albeit im keeping it up for resources.

im eternally grateful for how this community has helped me through prostitution and everything, i have amazing mutuals and i have learned so much 💜

but it has become toxic. many of yall cant handle disagreement and default to being as condescending and obnoxious as possible. one of us calling out a post is not enough, we have to dog pile everyone with a slightly shitty opinion. some of yall have severely lost the plot if you ever had it in the first place. not everything is that serious, especially when it comes to online drama.

im sick of it. so many engage in the same bullshit we accuse online trans activists of. this is an echo chamber. so many just mindlessly parrot slogans and arguments. what im very sick of is seeing single tweets or posts by a nobody, usually anonymous, being spread as receipts and shit. you know how annoying it is when everything a self proclaimed terf somewhere on social media says is taken by trans activists at face value and representative of the community when theyre not even radical feminist, just transphobic? yeah. yet a lot of yall do the same by saving and sharing „receipts“ where some random person who claims theyre trans (or not even) says some fucked up or out of pocket shit. you will always find people like that online, from any politicial „camp“ or ideological alignment!

a lot of yall seem to think that debate is about winning and not like, having an exchange of arguments and let the audience come to their own conclusion

and i just dont hate trans people. in fact i feel kinship to any female or homosexual trans person, anyone except heterosexual males. many of yall dont even realise how male centered you are when you more or less equal the trans community to heterosexual men who have a fetish for humiliation and forced feminisation or whatever. who exist and are an issue and i do wish the trans community at large would distance themselves from those men, but its not all there is to it. yes i agree that we need to protect vulnerable young people, girls and especially lesbians and gay boys, from being pushed into transitioning, i think the age of consent should be put at 21 or something, but we have to acknowledge and consider that there are people who have already transitioned and will transition in the future and i just dont understand how you cant have any empathy for them. no matter what you think about transition, many trans people ARE vulnerable and marginalised. plus consider how many detransitioned women are in this community yet yall talk about trans people as mutilated and shit its gross. in the end we can only try to establish structures that keep people from self harming, but an adult of sound mind has the right to do so anyways, including plastic surgery and trans surgeries. and i want to keep my arms open to them; but a lot of rhetoric around it spread on here will only alienate them further.

right now im saving all my essays in notes so its out of my mind. i have missed the community a lot so maybe i will return at some point but i have also been feeling better since i stopped being on radblr. i miss the rare valuable input and thoughts by other women but overall i have felt unaligned with how things have been handled on here. it has been mostly negative instead of constructive and pragmatic. ive had the impression some of yall enjoy the „being in the in-group“ community aspect more than actually being here for feminist exchange. lack of nuance, lack of empathy, lack of reason. it pains me but i have more and more come to understand why people just block us without engaging on general suspicion because ive also come to be annoyed with some of yall engaging with posts - and im on „your side“.

anyways im doing okay, im going to drug counselling regularly now and am trying to establish a stable life for those of you who inquired, and i hope anyone reading this is self reflected enough to know whether this applies to her or not. bye

[linatheweirdooo]

But when I try to stand, it's like Im buried in the sand

envuzi hurt/comfort fic originally posted on ao3 but my last fic on here did well so here

If you recognise the song in the title youre skibidi

Original link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59257672

~~

"Do your job, and I'll leave you and N alone"

"right, V?"

V backed into the corner, but there was nowhere to run, no place to hide. Tears stung her eyes as she watched her best friend get ripped apart by the monster wearing Tessa's skin. There was nothing she could do but watch.

She failed N. She failed N and Uzi, how could she let this happen? She sacrificed herself to protect them, but of course she was too selfish to kill herself. Of course she backed out. Now there she was, facing the consiquences.

Why did everything always end this way? Why is it that every attempt to help them end in more suffering?

How do they not hate her?

Thoughts retreated to the back of V's mind as she was forced to see it come closer and closer to her, approaching V with mutilated corpses of her friends, the ones she failed, forced to watch, paralysed in fear. She wanted to scream, cry, anything, but nothing came out. This was her life, wasn't it?

~~

V sprung up with a sharp gasp, breaking the silence that had previously enveloped the room.

Room?

V turned to her right to see Uzi, her girlfriend sleeping next to her, and N's arms wrapping around her from her left grounded V, snapping her back to reality.

It was a dream.

She could try to sleep it off. Her internal clock told her it was 2:20 AM. But she was still shaken up by the nightmare.

It was hot. Too hot. She should get something to drink.

V carefully took N's arms and put them down away from her. He was always very cuddly, and she liked it, but now was just not the time.

Uzi was a light sleeper, so V still had to take extra care in getting out of their bed without waking her up either. But eventually, she landed her cone-shaped legs onto the ground, and made her way to the kitchen to get some oil. Uzi and N had both been experimenting with human food, making versions they can eat. V always thought it was a bit useless, she knew all she needed was oil.

Pouring the contents of the bottle into a mug, V stared at her reflection through the black liquid.

How did she get this way?

It's been a few weeks since the solver was defeated, and everyone's still pretty shaken up by it. Uzi has it worst, constantly haunted by the past. Such a powerful being constricted by her own body, and they've yet to see the effects it has in the long term.

So why was V so uneasy? Her own partners can't catch a break, she shouldn't feel like this.

No, it's too late for these thoughts. She survived this long bottling everything up with only a few breakdowns, she doesn't need to stop now. She had more important things to do. There were people she needs to protect and care for now.

V downed the oil in one gulp, eager to get this over with and go back to her partners, but something stopped her at the bathroom mirror.

Something told her to stare. Stare at herself, her body. The hands that can turn into a thousand weapons. The hair she was forced to keep short in order to be successful in combat. The vial of yellow liquid, a weapon of mass destruction. It can so easily melt and tear through flesh.

The piercing yellow eyes that were forced to stare back at her. They weren't always yellow. The solver changed them. Everything she hates about herself was because of the solver.

It didn't even think of her as a person, just a vessel to carry out its deeds. She was never her own person. Who even was she?

Her eyes trailed down to her upper left arm.

The armband.

It had a skull printed on it, a constant reminder of the job she has to do. It had a barcode on it, too. But V eyed something else on it, a string of letters and numbers: her name. Her real name. Serial designation V-X00100000. Next to it, her model type.

CYN-MYKX

Cyn. The poor host of the solver, V's enslaver. The reason she's like this. It only saw her as a tool, didn't it? She wasn't a drone capable of emotion, just a weapon.

She was never her own person. She wasn't her own person as long as she has that armband.

She needs to take it off.

Hands swapped out into claws. Another reminder of what she was made for. Bladed fingers approached the yellow fabric, tugging on it. But she couldn't bring herself to rip it off.

What was the problem? She's trying to but her body just won't let her. V wants this thing off her but can't bring herself to do it.

When did these tears find their way onto her face?

Knees shaky, V fell into the floor, desperately clawing at her arms with razor sharp talons. Who cares if they got damaged, it wasn't even her body anyway. Oil dripped onto the floor as she took in a shaky breath and choked out a sob that was building inside her, but still attempting to shush herself. The last thing she wanted was to be seen like this by the most important people in her life.

~~~

Uzi was always a light sleeper. Hearing a faint, muffled sob from inside her house was enough to wake her up.

Bleary purple eyes blinked awake. It took a few seconds for Uzi to focus on the environment around her, but when she did she noticed something. V wasn't there, despite the fact she was sleeping in the middle that night. At least, that's what she thinks she remembers.

She tierdly lifted herself off the pillow she rested her head on, to check if V may be somewhere else on the bed, only to be met with the sight of a sleeping disassembly drone. But it wasn't V, it was N, her boyfriend. There was still some warmth in between them, though.

Uzi put two and two together to come to the conclusion that V got out of bed recently, for whatever reason.

This can't be good. She had to tell N of their girlfriend's disappearance. Shuffling closer to him, Uzi rested a hand on his shoulder and softly shook it in an attempt to wake him up, but quickly stopped herself.

He looked so peaceful. Only a few weeks ago she would only see this sight in her dreams. So much has happened, but he can finally rest now.

Her hand released its grip on N. She shouldn't wake him up. She can check on V herself. V was strong and brave, she probably isn't hurt and Uzi's just overthinking. It's not worth waking N up too.

With her mind made up, Uzi followed the faint sobs that woke her up in the first place, and worries clouded her head again.

It was when she saw the bathroom door cracked open that she stopped in her tracks. She heard faint sobs that were clearly not intended to be heard, and hyperventilating that got worse the closer she got to the bathroom.

"V? Is that you?" The worker quietly asked through the gap, not walking inside to give her girlfriend some space. But when the only sound that came back was a hushed sob, Uzi was left paralyzed. Whatever's happening, is she qualified to help out with it?

She shook the thoughts away. Her girlfriend was having a moment, she should at least try to help. The door slowly opened, complimented with a soft creak, and Uzi poked her head inside to a sight she wished she didn't get to witness.

~~

N didn't know what it was, but something felt off. His optics struggled to make out his surroundings at first, but he quickly realized the arm he was previously hugging wasn't there. V wasn't there.

V always shuffled around in her sleep a lot, he wasn't surprised she wriggled her arm out of his grasp somehow. But, there was also a lack of warmth on the bed too.

"Uzi? Is V-" his optics had fully adjusted to the dark when he cut himself off. Uzi wasn't there either.

Reluctantly, N got out of the bed. It was late and he was tired, but he definetly can't just fall back asleep knowing neither of them were there. What if they got hurt? They're still pretty shaken up about what happened a few weeks ago (and admittedly, he was too).

But he was more worried about V. Unlike Uzi, who has learned to open up to both her partners, V was clearly trying to hide the way she truly feels. She always hid her true emotions. N just wished she could be more open to him and Uzi, so they can help her. So she doesn't break at the seams again.

Walking down the mostly empty hallway (they had still just moved into their house, there isn't any furniture or decoration yet) N's "eyes" took note of the slightly illuminated wall. It didn't take a genius to figure out a door was open with the light on.

Upon getting closer to the source of the light, he heard quiet sobs.

Once he reached the door, N peeked inside. There was oil everywhere. On the floor, on clothes, even caked onto the faces of two drones. One purple, one yellow.

Uzi and V.

They were on the floor, V had her claws out and was evidently the source of the sobs. She was still wearing the same old jacket she's worn for ages, but evidence of all the abuse it has gone through littered the fabric in the form of rips, tears, scratches and oil stains. But some of them were new.

~~

V bit back some more sobs as she noticed her other partner has found her. N must've not realised he was staring, but to V it was just another pair of eyes watching her, judging her, degrading her for comitting the crime of existing. She wanted to disappear from the face of Copper-9. So much has gone down.

She was sitting on the floor, her knees to her chest, hyperventilating. So defenseless. So weak. No wonder the solver chose her as its victim. It promised she'll be free, but even in its death, she hasn't broken free of its shackles. When it's not controlling or manipulating V, it was watching her in her nightmares, in the empty spaces in her new house, in the mirrors she looked at herself through.

"V, please. Stop hurting yourself" spoke a voice too comforting for her to deserve it. V couldn't even register who said it.

"V?"

Her vents quieted.

"Can you look at me?"

Hesitantly, golden tear-filled eyes met purple ovals. She bit back another sob.

N sat on the floor next to Uzi, with his hand hovering over one of the wounds V's claws were still in the middle of branding her casing with.

He didn't speak, but demonstrated to V what he wanted to her do when he switched over his hands for claws, then back to normal again. He wanted her to switch them back.

V just stared into his eyes and slowly shook her head, digging her claws deeper and drawing more oil.

"V, please." Uzi made eye contact with V again, but this time V removed her claws from the oil stained plastic forearms she was digging them into, but still hovered them over her wounds.

"Can you switch your hands back to normal for me?" The worker asked oh so tenderly; absolutely not the tone V deserved to be spoken to in.

Newly built up tears made their way onto V's screen. She can't. She still hasn't been able to remove the arm band. She still hasn't punished herself enough for the things she did. She's still alive. The solver will be haunting her as long as that remains a fact.

She can't take it anymore. It's like something snapped inside her, but all the tears came back stronger. She didn't want to cry, and an effort was clearly made, but it was too much. She lodged herself inbetween N and Uzi, wrapping her arms around both of them and sobbed hopelessly into the gap between them.

V's sobs were strained, she clearly didn't want them to escape her mouth. But she just couldn't hold them back. It's like every time she blinked back tears in her life all came back to her, stronger than ever. She shook and trembled, as a seemingly endless stream of tears burned her screen.

N was taken aback by the sudden hug, but then wrapped his arms around V's frame, with Uzi following suit.

Uzi didn't care her clothes were soaking up her own girlfriend's oil. It was about time that old hoodie was put out if its misery anyway.

V's sobs eventually died down, getting replaced with awkward yet comforting silence. As she hugged her partners, clawing on the fabric of their clothes. She needs to make sure they're actually here and this wasn't another cruel trick.

Eventually, she broke the silence with two words.

"I'm sorry"

N pulled his head away from V's to look at her, but still stayed in the embrace.

"Don't apologize. But, are you able to tell us what happened?" N's voice was slightly scratchy considering he still had just woken up, but V could still hear the concern in his voice. Robo god she didn't deserve either of them.

"It's stupid" she reluctantly replied. She isnt used to being vulnerable, to saying how she felt. It was a habit she wants to break but it was so hard after years and years of bottling everything up.

"Don't say that. I don't blame you for breaking" Uzi eyed the ground, trying to find the correct words to say.

"These last few weeks have been so hard, and yet you were there for us when we needed someone to talk to"

"I think you deserve that outlet, too"

V's eyes locked with Uzi's when she said those last few words. Uzi has seen first hand the things V has done, how could she deserve it? Uzi and N are good people, she had to comfort them. She loved them. But she didn't deserve that same treatment.

"I don't think I deserve it"

"V..."

"I hurt so many people, Uzi... I hurt you and N... I don't deserve to have the two of you helping or comforting me"

Uzi frowned upon hearing V's response.

"V, N and I met by trying to kill eachother, I killed so many of my classmates at camp. OH, and let's not forget the time I tried to kill you later that day, too."

"Uzi, that's different-"

"No! Because at the end of the day, all three of us have done some messed up shit. But if N and I deserve love anyway, you do, too, V"

Silence fell over the polycule after Uzi's little speech. V tried to argue back, but couldn't find any sufficient arguments.

Uzi was right.

V let out a sigh, and breifly interlaced her fingers with both her partners'... and then found her face heating up. A beat passed before she threw a friendly punch at the purple drone.

"You dork! You don't get to make me feel sappy!" V playfully scolded her girlfriend. Uzi couldn't help but laugh at the sudden change in V's demeanor.

But as Uzi's giggles died down, the light-hearted atmosphere did, too.

"But, seriously though. You should open up a bit more. We're here to help you, we love you, why else do you think I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you and N?"

V's grin faded slightly as she came back to the reality that she still did scare her partners at the middle of the night.

"What happened, V?" Uzi finally asked her. Damn it. She wished she didn't have to say anything about the events that led up to her breakdown.

"If you're comfortable with talking about it, that is" N added.

V's sorrowful gaze reached her upper left arm. Specifically, the damned yellow tag that branded her.

"I want to take it off. I feel trapped as long as I have it" she finally admitted.

V's mind wandered, anticipating any response from them. "ALL of this trouble was caused by a piece of fabric?!". It was a pretty silly reason, she kind of expected them to get mad at her for it. But they didn't.

N let out a surprised "oh" as he remembered the meltdown he had when he tried to take it off.

Uzi cupped V's cheek and her thumb tenderly traced the surface of it. "Let's take it off, then" her soothing voice comforted.

N positioned himself on V's left, and with a precise slice of his claw, the yellow symbol of control fell into the floor.

V looked at her arm. Her arm, which was a part of her body, no longer belonging to anyone else.

She was free.

V hugged N, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you"

N reciprocated the action, his arms wrapped around V as her hair fully obscured his face. He then planted a gentle kiss on it as his fingers ran through her silver locks.

Eventually, they parted before V wiped a singular tear off her screen. One day, she'll tell them about the problems plaguing her. The nightmares, the thoughts, the urge. But for now, she savored the feeling of being at peace (or at least, the closest feeling to peace since what happened three weeks ago).

"I think it's time we head back to bed" V finally said. She hated to admit it, but the lack of sleep did take a toll on her.

Standing up from the floor, V stretched and picked up Uzi bridal style.

"HEY!"

"Can't let you forget how I usually act just because you saw me cry, toaster"

Uzi childishly pouted before wrapping her arms around V's neck.

"Bite me"

N held back a few giggles as he watched the most important drones in his life still bickering like they don't live in the same house together.

~~

After the three of them flopped on their bed, V felt two pairs of arms wrap around her waist and head.

"I'm NOT letting you leave this bed alone again" Uzi mumbled into her girlfriend's chest.

V could've gotten mad, but she found herself chuckling instead. Maybe this night wasn't that bad in the end.

Soft rumbles radiated from V as she purred in content in sync with the taller disassembly drone nuzzling her.

"I love you" were the last words V spoke that night. Though it was half muttered, both the drones it was directed at heard it, increasing their grip in their hugs.

Eventually, V's purring was replaced with soft snores as she drifted off the sleep, surrounded by the people she loved in a quiet moment of tranquillity.

[aliusfrater]

i've talked about mirroring or vague feelings of comparison between sam's s6 soulless arc and his s9 possession arc a couple times before but i'm bringing this idea back because there's more to be said about seasons five/six and seasons eight/nine and its events' relation to the violation of sam's agency and autonomy. sam views the self-mutilation of his body through its use as a tool as an act of his own agency which is first demonstrated in his use of demon blood in season four and this is an idea that continues into season five (and six). dean realises that it's not up to him when it comes to what sam does with his body (but rather, that it's his responsibility to Let Him Go and process his own grief) and sam jumps into the cage possessed by lucifer as (what sam sees to be) an ultimate act of agency then is resurrected against his will and without a soul; this missing metaphysical piece of him represents a violation of bodily autonomy after his act of agency is gratified by both dean and the narrative. sam's completion of the trials in season eight mirrors the events of season five in an inverted way in the continuation of the exploration of sam's internal view of his body as a tool/instrument and self-mutilation as an act of agency. except, dean stops sam from completing the trials and sam is prevented from performing his ultimate act of agency right before he's coerced into possession; he returns from the trials with a metaphorical parasite as a violation of bodily autonomy. (this also mirrors season four, in which ruby coerces sam into having sex with her, something intimate that will form the basis of the abusive, grooming dynamics of their relationship and sam's relationship/struggle with addiction.)

the remedies of these situations correlate to each other as well. sam is tied to a bed — just like he was in 4.21 when the levee breaks, further relating his addiction (and his relationship with ruby, which also mirrors sam's 'relationship' with azazel) to violations of his body — and is made to accept the return of his soul against his will, a functional violation of autonomy. the panic room can also metaphorically become sam's body if you relate dean's tricking of sam into bobby's panic room for a forced idea of what dean refers to/considers recovery to dean's tricking of gadreel into sam's body for another forced idea of what dean refers to/considers recovery. in season nine, the expulsion of gadreel from sam's body requires a further violation of his body when crowley possesses sam to make him aware of gadreel's presence in his body. there's just a general lack of power within the way that sam is able to use his body; even apparent acts of agency involves releasing a sense of self in regards to his body to use it as a tool within actions that constitute as self harm.

following this train of thought, it would make sense (in terms of characterisation) that soulless!sam wants to stay soulless because of how efficient of a human being it makes him. he has always viewed his body as a tool/instrument and being soulless had given him the perfect opportunity to use his body as exactly that for hunting. his apparent willingness to mutilate his body, scarring it metaphysically beyond recognition so that it can no longer house a soul through patricide also makes sense. he's commited acts of self-mutilation to perpetuate the use of his body as a tool before, it makes sense that he could consider patricide as a legitimate act of agency.

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Hey. Found you not so long ago but I’m already lovin it (pa ba ba pa baaaa I’m lovin it)

I was thinking about one plot for a long time. It’s TCOAAL request.

so the reader is male, kid from bad family. Well his only family was mother that abused him for quite awhile. Then, at the age of 15 he killed, dismembered and ate her before running away. (I took this idea from one concept metal album I’ve listened to recently).

Then he met graves siblings and they kinda became friends. it’s Ashley graves x male reader. again I like the stuff you do. Have a good day.☺️

Welcome to the blog dude, hope you enjoy your stay!

And bonding over mutilating and eating your shit mother’s corpse, how romantic <3

TW: Descriptions of bludgeoned corpses and cannibalism

Ashley Graves x Male Reader

Life on the run is….interesting

Trips to the store to buy food is always an anxiety induced endeavor of if the cops or store clerk recognize you as the kid of that one couple who went missing

That poor, poor couple

Such upstanding people of the community, a shame what happened to them

….a shame

You remember the night clearly. The taste of their blood. How it clung to your clothes and skin.

You sat before your parents….or….what was left of them. Things were never meant to go this far. You just- you just wanted to defend yourself! That’s all!

You didn’t expect to not stop after the first swing…

You had run off of the adrenaline of it all, the pure catharsis it gave you to watch your father crumple under the barrel of your metal bat. The way your mother’s face smashed in as you hit her over and over and over again. All the built up hate. All the built up rage coming back in full force.

Though, that feeling was gone. In its place was the reality of your situation. You had killed your parents, their blood on your hands and murder weapon. You couldn’t go to jail, you were just a kid! Nor would anyone believe it was self defense…your folks had always been such “great people”. No one would believe they’d hit their kid.

You knew one thing though, you had to get rid of the bodies. You couldn’t bury them, no- a police dog would dig that up right away. They’d rot if you hid them in the house…

….which left only one option.

You don’t regret killing your parents

You kind of regret eating them, that’s only because you did it shittily

There’s really no good way to prepare a corpse- and there was a lot so you tried them all

Maybe they were just that bitter of people

Or you just couldn’t cook

It’s probably both

But, it’s been 7 years and no one’s found out

The case on your parents went cold

So did yours

So really the only thing making you anxious to leave the motel room was getting caught

You’d been here for a while, the trash starting to pile up

It’s hard to tell if the stench was the shitty motel, or you.

You were going to take it out when- you paused..

Your blood ran cold as you watched through the blinds. A hooded person, face obscured from your view, coming towards your room. You internally said your prayers until….they made their way up the stairs to the room above you.

You let out a long sigh of relief, placing your hand over your heart to make sure it was still beating. It was- at far too fast of a pace though. But it was still beating nonetheless. Though, once the adrenaline rush from that scare passed you by….you realized something.

There were only two people staying in the room above you.

Your anxiety has led to you to be rather…observant- noting the pair of dark haired people when they arrived. They always left the room together, and not once did anyone else show up. And you had seen them rush out earlier….but never come back.

Now, this suspicious looking hooded figure that definitely didn’t have a knife in their hand could easily just be a friend…..but it just didn’t sit right with you.

Your eyes widened, staring out the blinds again as your neighbors made their way to the stairs. If your heart was pounding any faster it would burst. For a moment, you asked yourself-

Are you really going to risk your life for two strangers?

And you didn’t even have time to answer, as you already opened your door before you processed the question.

You had come out of your hobbit hole of a room, scream warnings up the stairs before the pair entered their room- seemingly stopped to discuss something

They blinked down at you with their unamused pink and green eyes, and you felt yourself shrivel under their stare

Green eyes began speaking to you- wanting you to go away and that they’ll handle whoever is in their room but Pink eyes stopped him

She thanked you, asked for your name, and that they’d love to just run away…but their stuff was in their room and they didn’t have the money to responsibly replace it all

But there was three of you, and only one burglar

You just needed a weapon

It hurt to grab your old bat…the one you foolishly kept since that night, but….you did

And you followed them into their room

You kept your footsteps light as you entered the room, it smelled of old furniture and the air was stale- much like your room when you had first arrived.

You looked at your neighbors, Ashley and Andrew they had introduced themselves as. Ashley walking in so casually before she loudly announced to Andrew, “Oh golly gee Andrew! What a great dinner. Let us grad our stuff post-haste and burn off those calories with a walk in the park!”

You and Andrew shared a look of confusion, to which Ashley grimaced at and continued on.

“I will be but a minute! Be ready…” her cherry blossom eyes stared daggers into your own, clearly referring to you.

You gulped, nodding as you readied your bat. Ashley guided you to where to stand, just to the side of the closet where you wouldn’t be obscured. She gave you a final glare as she moved to the other to safely open the door. Your hands shook as the grip tightened on your bat, nodding to let her know you were ready.

It was all a blur, the hooded figure bursting out with their knife in a stabbing motion. Before he could even process what was happening, you brought your bat down to the back of his head hard. He collapsed to the ground, not down- but that same rush from that night came back to you….and the next thing you knew they were mush on the floor.

Ashley and Andrew stared in bewilderment as you fell to your knees, bloodied bat slipping from your hands and you caught your breath. You were a monster. You knew it, and now they knew it.

But that didn’t seem to matter, as you felt a hand gently tilt your chin up to look up. Your fearful eyes staring into Ashley’s surprisingly calming gaze as she spoke,

“What did you say your name was again?…”

[kesouu]

Blue Star☆｡⁠*✯ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

(⁠☆) Narumi Gen x Oc

(｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ CHAPTER 2 +ﾟ⁠*｡⁠)

TW: Gore...

(⁠｡⁠•̀✧) sorry got excited HEHE (it's not as long as i'd like it to be tho) ALSO IMPORTANT!!! THIS HAPPENS LIKE 2 YEARS BEFORE THE MAIN PLOT!!!

7 years ago...

"Gen!" Hoshiko runs up to her best friend and uses his shoulders to jump up "Oi cut it out!" Narumi says stabilizing himself to not let him and the girl who was way too excited for God-knows-what so early in the morning. Hoshiko calms down and walks beside him "What's got you excited so God damn early?" The boy asks and Hoshiko's smile widens"It's almost time for us to graduate!" The girl spills "No more exams! No more waking up so early! Mom and dad have been making me decide on what to do after I grad but I'm still not sure...have you thought of anything?" She glances up at the boy "Nah, I don't really have any plans too, was planning on hanging out with you 'cause I'm going to get kicked out of the orphanage soon enough after grad since im considered an adult." Narumi explains as they finally enter school grounds, changing to their indoor shoes then finally separating to go to their respective classes.

"Bye Gen! See ya' later!" Hoshiko waves at Narumi who waits at the other end of the path that leads to the girl's house as he watches her go inside. It's become routine to Narumi, go to Hoshiko's house to walk to school together, hang out at lunch with Hoshiko, walk Hoshiko home before going home himself. He knew she could walk to and from school herself seeing how skilled she is with the staff from training in Bojutsu with Kendo as her required subject in middle school but he just wanted to make sure she was alright. He's about to enter the premises of his orphanage the sirens blare.

"A kaijuu has emerged in Chiba prefecture, in the city of Sakuragi. We advise all residents in the vicinity to seek safety immediately."

He goes into a sprint back to Hoshiko's house cursing in his head that he should have listened to his gut to hang out after school at your's. On his way he's stopped by large, grasshopper-like kaijuu. He grabs the arm of a deceased kaijuu left by the defense force and uses it as a sword to fight 'All you gotta do is damage that core thing right?' he thought slicing off the head on one of the 3 kaijuu infront of him 'Two more. Let's hurry this up."

Her knees felt weak, it felt like she couldn't breath like there was a lump in her throat that just wouldn't go down, it was as if she couldn't use her voice, was this all a bad dream? Was this really happening? "Ma?...Pa?..." Streams of tears leave Hoshiko's eyes as she stares her parents. Bodies mutilated with body parts cut from their torso's. The kaijuu notice her and start to lunge toward her as she forces herself to snap out of it and peels her eyes off her now deceased parents wiping her face then she runs up the stairs to grab her wooden bō from her room as the kaijuu follow her. She jumps out the window of her room a few cutting her arms, face and legs as she fell. She lead the kaijuu to the street 'Hopefully the defense force gets to me before I get killed.'

The first of the two kaijuu go to attack her as she dodges and hits the side of the its blade making it hit the ground beside her as the second comes to slice her as well. She jumps out of the way leaving the kaijuu to slice at the other kaijuu the mentioned screeching in pain as it's stomach area bleeds from the deep cut. "Ok, got a plan now." As she runs back between the two as both kaijuu prepare to strike at her she jumps up to the height of their necks and as they slice she uses her bō to dodge by stabbing it into the eye of the kaijuu and pulling herself up. She lands on the ground as both kaijuu slice the others heads off, she takes her bō drenched in blood from the eye of the kaijuu. Her vision turns hazy as she starts to give in to the mental stress and pass out.

"Hoshi!"

"Gen!"

The two run to catch eachother in a hug, one that Hoshiko really needed, Narumi could tell by the way she had blood that wasn't her own covering her school uniform clothes and how she looked up at him with tears lining her eyes that soon enough spilled. "Mom and dad....they.." the girl couldn't even continue as tears came flowing down her eyes endlessly choking on her sobs. "Shhh...it's alright, you still have me don't worry..." Narumi says rubbing her back "Let's get out of here, I'll bring you to the shelter. I've still got something to go back for so-" The boy is cut off when Hoshiko grabs him by the collar of his school uniform

"I watched those kaijuu mutilate my parents in my damn living room, I'll be damned if you get that same fate without me getting to do anything about it."

She was frustrated, frustrated at how helpless she felt when she could only stare at her parents as it happeneds frustrated that she could have done something, frustrated that it wouldn't have become this if she could have just moved but now she will, she'll pull herself together to protect the only thing she had left "Alright then..." Narumi walks toward the carcass of one of the dceceased kaijuu then breaks off one of its legs "We'll stick this onto your bō so you can actually kill these things"

The two got seperated in a fight with multiple grasshopper kaijuu after the last one remaining had run off with Narumi running after it. Hoshiko was feeling weaker and weaker after the mental and physical stress today had on her it definitely didn't help her when it started raining sending chills throughout her body. She was about to pass out until she heard Narumi's yelling and saw a group of defense officers 'He's okay!' but the closer she got the darker her vision became until it all faded to black with a faint shout of her name from a familiar voice and loud crashing occuring.

A gasp is the first sound that escapes Hoshiko as sat up in her hospital bed startlig the boy who was laying his head on her thigh as he slept sitting in a chair. "What the hell?!" Narumi yells out due to the sudden movement from the formerly limp body only to see the girl's harsh breathing as she frantically looked around when he raises his head to which he moves to rub her back and bring her in for a hug "Hey it's okay, it's over now don't worry about it..." Narumi grabs Hoshiko's face by the cheeks and makes her look up at him as his other hand held on of her own to his chest to feel his beating heart "...I'm okay see? You're okay too, take deep breaths alright? calm down for me." he says comfortingly as he brings her in for another hug feeling her breathing steady.

The steady breathing unfortunately doesn't last as quiet sobs and tears start to come out of her. "Ma and pa are gone..." Hoshiko sobs as she clutches onto Narumi's jacket as if he were going to leave like that if she let up for even just a second, in return Narumi holds her just a little bit tighter.

"...don't leave me too, 'kay?"

"I promise."

-☆☆

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: serial killer!Blade x fem!reader

Warnings: !dark content, i guess!, descriptions of murders and bloody wounds (of strangers).

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Point Blank - Liar

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

Oh, I'm so inspired by this Blade's image that I want to write even more works with him in this role... I love the creepy, disgusting and frightening Blade as much as possible (≧◡≦) ♡

✦ He doesn't hide from you the disgusting things that his hands do. Blade is frighteningly good at things you can't even bring yourself to say out loud. He's cold-blooded, smart, and too into the taste to stop, despite how you slowly go crazy being next to him while he drags you down to the bottom of a sea of blood and corpses.

Blade no longer remembers what his first murder was like. These faces… disfigured by agony, mutilated and losing touch with this world, merged together in his mind, acquiring a completely new appearance that should haunt him in nightmares, but only you can disturb his sleep when you try to get out of his steel grip, almost breaking your bones, but every time he attracts you back, hugging tightly to his body.

— Where are you going?

Blade was never verbose, but his scarlet eyes sometimes tell you more than his words. Every time you try to escape from the metallic smell that has settled somewhere deep under his skin, from his cold body, from hugs akin to the most cruel torture, his gaze burns a hole in your nature, nailing you back to his chest, in which the barely audible beats of what should be to be called the heart.

✦ He likes to look at you when your face is distorted with disgust. You're chained to Blade like a faithful pet that follows him around, forced to just watch as his pale face is stained with splashes of scarlet blood. A weak-willed spectator who feels complicit in every atrocity that Blade's hands, which know no mercy, do. He beat, hacked, then smeared your wrinkled face with still warm blood, wanting to know when the day would come when your stomach would no longer be sick and your heart would no longer be pounding in your chest, ready to burst apart. When you finally break down.

But deep down in his mutilated soul, Blade doesn't want that day to come.

✦ He is aroused by the sight of your disgust for him, aroused by the fear that takes root in your veins, which has not left your body since your destinies intertwined. Your tears are the best part of his every performance for you. Although you start crying even at the moment when his blade pierces the body of another stranger, your tears, settling in wet spots on his cloak, are something for which he is ready to kill again and again.

— They're all dying because of you, and you can't even look them in the eye. Do you really think you can escape from this?

✦ How low do you have to fall for the universe to finally bring down its punishment on you for all the deeds that you had to witness? Aren't you guilty enough?

After all, he's right.

You really are the reason all these people are dying. And you've never even done anything to stop it, just feeding the monster, filling the void in his chest with sinful pleasure, when Blade enjoys every sound of despair, every plea uttered in a voice hoarse with sobs, every tear running down your fear-scarred face.

✦ You are the only reason Blade has become addicted to this feeling. Watching the fire go out in the eyes of his victims is so boring and has almost become routine, but the way your candle smoulders is what his blade is ready to chop fragile human bodies over and over again until he sees your eyes dim, soaked in darkness that devours his soul.

At some point, you still open your eyes, looking at his victims as if into your own reflection. They're all you. The same wounded, now devoid of soul. The only thing that distinguishes you from the corpses that Blade's heavy footsteps mercilessly tread on is your heart, which for some reason still continues to beat in your chest.

But one day, he promises, you will become a jewel in his collection.

[lightandheatao3]

The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 7: The Dream

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Chapter Summary: Spencer sleeps, then wakes.

Read chapter 7 on AO3 or under the cut. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3 I would love to know what you like about the story :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

“Why me?”

Spencer blinked.

His head was spinning. He could have sworn he heard a voice.

“You're still worried about hearing voices?” the voice answered. “Seriously, man, why did you come to me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to help. Just would’ve figured you’ve got better people to do this with.”

He looked up. A familiar face hovered above him, dancing in and out of his vision.

“What are you doing here?” asked Spencer.

He tried to sit up but his body was glued to the surface beneath him. He jerked forward but he couldn't pull himself free.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” said Ethan with a raised eyebrow.

He was on the shabby couch in Ethan’s small New Orleans apartment. He finally managed to pry himself loose and drag himself into a sitting position. The air was wet cement. The walls of the apartment expanded and contracted like lungs.

“I have nowhere else to go,” Spencer explained.

“Bullshit,” said Ethan. “You’ve got a whole team of people who care about you and plenty of savings to pay your way through a private rehab facility, and instead you’re sweating it out on the couch of some guy you’ve talked to all of once in the last half-decade.”

“Fine. If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave,” spat Spencer. "I wouldn't want to drag you down with my problems."

He tried to stand, but his wrists were tied with rough rope. The smell of rotting fish was thick in the air.

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” said Ethan affectionately. “It’s good to see you, though I wish for your sake it was under better circumstances. Besides," he pointed out, "you couldn’t get further than the front door without puking up half your body weight right now.”

Spencer pulled at his bound wrists. “Untie me!” he demanded. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I'm not doing anything, Spencer. You’ve done this to yourself.”

“It’s not my fault!” he yelled, the smell of the rot turning his stomach. “I didn’t have a choice. I said no, I tried to stop it, I did everything I was supposed to do.”

The bindings wrapped tighter, snaking around his abdomen and up to his neck. They constricted around his throat painfully.

“How long before you can’t use that excuse anymore?” asked Ethan snidely, a tone that Spencer had rarely heard from him. “How many months after you killed Tobias before you finally admitted it wasn't him that kept sticking those needles in your arm? Fuck, man, 16 years later and you're more of a junkie than you've ever been. Whose making you do it this time?"

“Fuck you,” he growled. “You abandoned me! You left your whole future behind to go be a drunk in New Orleans. You have no right to judge me."

“You never asked me to stay.”

“You never cared what I wanted!”

“What? You wanted me to stay in the Academy? Join the BAU with you? Have a magical life getting kidnapped and tortured and hooked on drugs together? Spend romantic evenings in hotel rooms looking at photos of mutilated bodies?"

Spencer pulled against the restraints again, and again they resisted. "I never said that. I never wanted that. You were my only real friend and I was worried you were throwing your life away," he explained. "That's all."

Suddenly, Ethan was knelt beside him. He was laying down on the couch again. The ropes that had entangled him melted away. He was shaking, sweating, the cushions were a bed of nails beneath him. Ethan shushed him gently, wiping a cool cloth over his forehead. “You’re gonna be alright. I’m glad you came to me.”

Spencer blinked hard.

He stared into Ethan’s gentle eyes. “I don’t think I’m getting out of this alive,” he admitted in a whisper. “I need my friends to be safe. They have to make it out, no matter what happens to me.”

“Do you think we could have had something?” asked Ethan as if he hadn’t heard Spencer talk. “If the world wasn't such a fucked up place for anyone a little too different, do you think we would’ve had a chance at something real?”

Spencer swallowed down a painful lump in his throat. “I don’t know.”

“We could try now,” said Ethan, putting a hand on his cheek. “Maybe this is our chance.”

“That’s not what you said,” Spencer breathed. “I remember. This isn’t how it happened. You helped me, then we said goodbye, and we never talked about any of this.”

“But it’s what you wanted me to say.”

“No.” Spencer rolled over on the thin mattress. Ethan knelt beside him in the brightly lit bunker. “That's not what I wanted.”

“Then why are you here?” asked Ethan. Spencer didn’t look at him. “You spent so long scared of losing your mind, you didn't even realize you never had it to begin with.”

Ethan’s hand enveloped Spencer’s. Their fingers intertwined.

When Ethan’s hand pulled away, there was a cool, smooth object left behind.

“I know what you want,” said Ethan.

Spencer looked down at his hand.

A loaded syringe rested on his palm.

He stared up at Ethan, who had drifted to the back of the cavernous, concrete room. The buzz of the fluorescent lights echoed, and the blinking red camera sat at the periphery of his vision no matter which direction he looked.

“I don’t want it,” said Spencer desperately, holding the syringe of swirling gas aloft.

“You've never wanted anything more than this.”

When he looked again, Ethan was gone.

He looked down at his arm. It was unmarked, smooth and fresh without even the faintest hint of old, scarred over track marks. It hadn’t looked like that since Georgia. There was a tourniquet tied around his upper arm.

The needle was pressed against the crook of his elbow.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief. Every muscle in his body relaxed. The world was about to be right again.

He placed his thumb on the plunger, depressing it slowly like he had a thousand times before.

The gas traveled up through the veins in his arm, making its way closer and closer to his heart.

Something was wrong. He coughed. He felt the gas spreading inside him, burning everything it touched.

His throat was raw and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't catch his breath. He gasped for air, but got none.

What had he done? What had he done to himself? He was never going to breath again and it was all his fault!

Then: Awake.

His eyes burned as he pried them slowly open. He flinched back against the light, blinking slowly in an attempt to adjust.

“Spence, it’s okay, we’re here,” came a soft voice from somewhere beside him.

A hand rubbed gentle circles on his back.

He finally managed to adjust to the horrible fluorescent light. JJ was leaning over him, staring at him with wide, worried eyes.

“You’ve been out for hours,” said Emily from somewhere nearby. “We’ve been checking your vitals and keeping an eye on you, but we didn’t want to force you awake.”

He looked up and saw the rest of them lingering behind JJ.

He could have cried from relief, and very nearly did.

“You’re all okay,” he said, closing his eyes tightly to stave off the tears.

Derek huffed a laugh. “You’re worried about us? Man, I was scared you were never going to wake up,” he said with a watery smile.

Spencer cringed. All at once, his senses lit up. The others leaned in with concern as his hand flew up to his throat, feeling for injury. He swallowed and tried to clear his throat, triggering a rough cough. After a second of coughing he had to fight back an immense wave of nausea.

“What’s wrong?” asked Hotch. “Are you injured?”

He shook his head helplessly. He rubbed at his throat and couldn’t feel any external signs of injury, but he felt as if he’d swallowed glass. “I don’t know.”

“Let me take a look,” he said, leaning past JJ and kneeling beside him.

Spencer pushed himself up into a sitting position on the hard concrete floor. Hotch reached out and touched his throat, looking at it intently and feeling for any signs of damage. He was gentle in a way that made Spencer think back to Jack’s seventh birthday party. He had fallen and grazed his knee and the only thing in the world that could have consoled him in that moment was his dad.

“I can’t see any signs of damage,” said Hotch, pulling his hands away. “It could be a side effect from the gas. You were out a lot longer than the rest of us. It’s possible you had a bad reaction.”

He could feel the tremor in his hands, the sweat beading on his brow. The swirling nausea. If felt like one of his worse comedowns, or like the tail end of detox. Except, that didn’t explain the pain in his throat.

“Not to mention, we don’t know how long we were all unconscious or what happened during that time,” said Derek, arms folded tightly across his chest, expression carefully controlled.

For the first time, Spencer noticed their clothes.

None of them were in the same clothes they’d been in when they first arrived. He looked down at himself. Light blue scrubs, like the kind you would see in a hospital. Crisp and clean.

His stomach dropped.

He was clean. His clothes had been changed. The Unsub had cleaned him. He touched his face, feeling the smooth skin along his jaw. She had even shaved him.

Another look at Derek and his stomach dropped even further. As freaked out as he was, he could only imagine what kind of feelings this was triggering for his friend.

Derek seemed to piece together what he was thinking. “I’m good,” he said firmly. “Don’t worry about me.”

That last part sounded less like a reassurance and more like a command.

Spencer let it drop. He was hardly in a position to judge anyone else for not sharing. It’s not as if this was a safe space for any of them to unpack their trauma.

He turned his attention to the rest of the bunker. The others backed up, giving him room to see.

Not that there was much to look at.

The mattresses were gone. Their little luxuries and amenities were gone. The entire bunker smelled strongly of disinfectant. He hated how much of a relief that was to him after the smell of mold.

Oh god. He groaned audibly when his eyes hit the empty doorway where the bathroom door had once been.

“Yep,” said Emily mournfully. “Still trying to process that loss.”

“Of all the experiences in prison I had hoped to never repeat again, this was pretty high on the list,” he said, voice raspy and raw but thankfully getting through the sentence without coughing. He looked to the rest of them. “Do any of you remember anything at all?”

All eyes flicked over to JJ. They had already had this discussion amongst themselves, it seemed.

“It’s difficult to say for sure,” she said cautiously. “I was pretty out of it, but I think I came to at one point. Wherever I was, it wasn’t here. And… I think I heard two voices. One feminine, one masculine.” Spencer nodded. They had speculated that their Unsub had an accomplice. She was likely the dominant one in the pair with a male companion who did her bidding. “They must have dosed me right afterwards, though. I don’t remember anything else,” she finished.

“We all have marks,” said Rossi. “Same as the ones we came in with. The gas would have knocked us out temporarily, but they must have used injections to maintain it. She doesn’t like to deviate her methods, it seems. Not surprising.”

Spencer felt the spot just behind his ear. It was easy to miss, but there was a tiny bump that was just a bit swollen.

“Do you think it’s the same formula as last time?” asked Derek with a raised eyebrow.

He mulled it over, a little irritated that he was becoming something of a human narcotic testing strip for them. Never mind that he had a PhD in chemistry. It was his expertise in being a junkie that gave them such faith in his ability to identify whatever drug cocktails they had all been injected with.

“I don’t know. If I’ve been unconscious as long as you say, then whatever was in my system is likely cleared out. All I know for sure is that I feel terrible.” He sighed. “It's likely. It would explain why-” he stopped to cough, trying to clear his throat, “- why I’m experiencing more acute withdrawal symptoms again.”

Though he would never admit it out loud to anyone, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being disappointed that he hadn’t been conscious to experience getting shot up. He was saddled with all of the horrible side effects, and he didn’t even get to experience the high. It felt unfair, and he knew exactly how pathetic it was that he felt that way.

Hotch put a hand on his shoulder, which surprised him. “You’ll be alright. It will pass faster this time,” he assured him.

Derek also gave him a sympathetic smile, though how sincere that sympathy was, Spencer wasn’t sure. He’d stopped commenting on it while they had all been stewing in filth together, but he knew he was still upset with him.

“Any speculation on the compound we were gassed with?” Derek asked. “I’ve never encountered a gas that can induce unconsciousness in a whole room full of people like that.”

Spencer perked up. This was a subject that was actually of some interest to him. “Contrary to what movies portray, incapacitating agents that can reliably induce non-lethal unconsciousness in an uncontrolled setting don’t exist. In the case of-” he coughed, struggling to speak through the pain, “-the Moscow theater siege in 2002, the Russian authorities rendered a theater of 800 people unconscious in order to stop a terrorist attack, using a Fentanyl derivative. It was extremely effective, yet 15% of the hostages died as a result of the gas. In our case, my guess would be that they used a compound with a substance similar to Halothane as the primary component.”

He took a break from speaking to double over and have a coughing fit in earnest, searing pain on the inside of his throat leaving him gasping for air. The others rushed to him, helping him as he curled up on the floor, struggling to breath.

Once he finally caught his breath, he looked back up at Hotch. He cleared his throat a couple of times, keeping his voice low and soft when he spoke.

“I think you were right about me having a bad reaction. Controlling the dose of an aerosolized anesthesia in a large space is nearly impossible. I was the last to get my mask on. I must have inhaled too much,” he ground out, stopping to suppress another coughing fit. “I think I was intubated.”

They all looked at him with wide eyes. It made sense. It would explain the pain in his throat. He must have gotten a big enough dose to cause toxicity and require temporary intubation. It would also explain why he was so much more affected than the others. Why he took so long to wake up.

It was difficult to read all of their expressions. He thought they looked upset. Horrified? Concerned? Afraid?

“This tells us something we didn’t know before,” said Emily, squaring her shoulders, refusing to dwell too long in a nightmare that none of them could even remember. “Access to that much Halothane, or any other powerful anesthetic, combined with the knowledge and skill to perform an intubation, means-”

“At least one of our Unsubs works in the medical field,” finished JJ.

“This is good,” said Rossi. “We did all of this to learn more, and it worked.”

Spencer looked around at the empty, cold concrete. He had the same thought that he was sure they all had.

Sure, it worked. But at what cost?

[ceruleanserendipity]

The Magnus Protocol, Horror, and the Ouroborous of Love and Obsession

Buckle up.

Also known as "Goose is Very, Very Normal About How Love, Obsession, and Consumption (no, not that kind) Are Prevalent in Horror Media."

ALSO known as "I Can't Stop Thinking About The Magnus Protocol and the Running Theme, So You Get to Suffer With Me!"

Okay. Hi, hello, I'm Goose, and I needed to write about this before I annoy all of my friends too much about it. Horror is one of my favorite genres in any medium, and I love literary analysis. I've been listening to The Magnus Protocol (an excellent podcast) like my life depends on it, so I of course have thoughts.

Let's talk love. Love is an amazing theme in any medium, and personally one of my favorite things to look for. Like, romance movies are incredibly popular for a reason right? I will never dog on a good romcom or fairytale. HOWEVER. Something I appreciate about horror, specifically film and TV, is how love is an underlying theme. There are so many ways to portray love as a persisting force in horror; one of my favorite examples of this is The Haunting of Bly Manor (and like, everything Mike Flanagan does, honestly). The driving force of this show lies in Dani and her relationships, the way she deals with an ex-love, the way she comes to terms with a new one, and most importantly, in how her love continues throughout the horror of the series and even after, a persevering thing that makes me swoon more than a Nicholas Sparks book. I don't want to get too detailed, because, well, spoilers, but I wanted to give you my baseline idea on love as a thematic element.

Obsession. A word that tends to be thrown around rather lightly, and I am guilty! "Oh I'm obsessed," "latest obsession," etc. etc. etc.. Obsession in its barest form though is something that is constant preoccupation, invading daily life. All-consuming passion, something you can't get rid of easily. Love can devolve into obsession if one isn't careful, which is why the inherent horror of love and obsession go hand in hand, a snake eating its own tail and never letting go, because what would one abstract be without the other?

Now, let's talk Magnus!

In The Magnus Archives, there is a very clear love in a very twisted sense (mm my favorite). Who's the first person that comes to mind? Jane Prentiss, of course! She succumbs to the Corruption. The Corruption itself preys on those who are susceptible to toxicity, who have trouble with boundaries in relationships. Something I've always found terribly interesting is that desire to be consumed by something you adore so much. I understand it. In fact, many of the Fears in Archives are tied to some form of love, adoration, even worship.

This isn't exactly the case in The Magnus Protocol, at least, not the way I see it.

Thus far, Protocol has been distinctly more focused on body horror (another rant about my love for that another day) but something I've noticed since the first episode is that love, specifically obsession with something the subject loves, is prevalent throughout each "statement," as I've been calling them. While I'm aware they aren't true statements, but rather case files, in a sense, I'm attached to the term, so I'm sticking with it. Argue with the wall.

Episode one, we see two instances of love— first in a woman searching so desperately for her husband that she's willing to risk her safety for love. Secondly, we see a person so obsessed with exploration that he spirals into mania. Is it a passion? Yes. Hobbies, like urban exploration, are inherently something to be loved.

Episode two, the search for perfection is deeply tied to obsession. To mania. Daria is entrenched in the idea of loving oneself to the extent that she is willing to mutilate herself for it. Again, obsession. Devotion.

Episode three, the doctor is so in love with his wife (toxic love is, unfortunately, still a form of love. Infatuation perhaps, but a form of love nonetheless.), that he kills her. His later fixation after her death, causing that spiral into madness, is the product of going "further," as I mentioned earlier.

Episode four. Perfection is holding hands with obsession. Wanting to be perfect at something you adore is relatable, isn't it? There is so much inherent terror in adoration, and that's the real crux of this episode, at least in my personal opinion.

EP FIVE SPOILERS BELOW!!!

In episode five, it took me a moment to really jive with the story, but our narrator's love of horror itself is his downfall. His desensitization, his familiarity, it makes him foolhardy. Hasn't that happened to you? Being blindsided by the thing you treasure most, the thing that brings you comfort?

At its core, horror is hungry and consumptive. Most, if not all, horror will have something that requires a "sacrifice," or something of the sort. A slasher needs a victim, a demon needs a body, a knife needs blood, a voyeur needs a subject. Love and obsession are separated by the thinnest air; infatuation and love are so quick to consume a person that it is one of the more dangerous experiences. Love drives a person to fear, whether that's losing oneself or the object of affection. We fear what we love. We become addicted to that exhilaration of heightened fear response.

At the present moment, Protocol has been hitting it out of the park when weaving love into its stories, and I, for one, can't wait for more.

If you have complaints, leave them in the box.

Kisses!!!! Love from,

Goose <3

[dixbolik-lovers]

I adore the Sacrifice AU, could I have some headcanons with the Sakamaki’s having reader slowly yet brutally de-fang them as punishment after they bite Reader when she tried to pet them? Reader told them that they would suffer a fate worse then death if they dared try to fight back, but sometimes pets need a little discipline to stay in line. (Even if that discipline is tying up a once prideful vampire and sadistically mutilating him of the last bit of lineage he has left)

If you really wanna go all dark & twisty, you can also make some headcanons of Reader force feeding them an aphrodisiac shortly after she does it, where she then makes them beg for relief (both from the sexual and the physical pain in their body) that she will never give them <3

Shuu

That's one way to get him awake and moving. When Shuu realizes that you actually intend to rip his fangs out, he's plenty alert, for once— and what starts as trying to call your bluff ends in an actual physical struggle. While the fang removal is happening, he's going down a bad mental spiral, and the aftermath more or less breaks him. Feeling so utterly helpless and broken doesn't do his already depressed emotional state any favors, after all.

Reiji

The only thing he can think to do is try to talk his way out of what you plan to do... and it's not working. As it sinks in that he's not going to be able to dissuade you, Reiji slips into a true panic. He'll hold onto his dignity for as long as possible, but by the time you're holding his jaw open, even he's reduced to tears and incoherent pleading. And while he handles the pain well enough, he's going to internalize the punishment as being completely his fault.

Ayato

He'll be a brat until the very end, somehow not recognizing that you're really going to do it. And Ayato is the type to struggle. Even when he should know better, his only mental defense is pretending like he somehow still has an advantage over you. It doesn't work. He's sobbing hysterically by the time you're done with his fangs— and the panic attack that follows is messy. You've struck true fear into him this way; the lesson will stick around.

Kanato

Have fun with the screaming. Once he realizes what you're doing, Kanato isn't quiet about it. Knowing there's no way to stop you, he's quickly slipping into hysterics— sobbing and screeching threats about what he'll do to you in return. None of it works, of course, and you rip out his fangs anyway, right after he's made himself sick from his fit. The pain lasts for what feels like forever afterward, and he's terrified of you from that point on.

Laito

The moment it sinks in that he won't be able to manipulate his way out of this one, Laito is panicking. He's not used to having such little control in a situation, and once again being violated in a way that he can do nothing to stop only sends him spiraling further. He'll sob and struggle and beg you not to do it— and in the process, some highly repressed fears are likely to come spilling out. The incident breaks him a little... or a lot.

Subaru

Despite knowing it won't do him any good at all, Subaru struggles. He can't help it— he's panicking, and his body lashes out all on its own in the vain hope that what you're threatening won't happen. Of course, it doesn't work. His fangs come out anyway, and he's left with nothing to do but lie there, clutching his mouth, and trying to hold back his sobs. At the very least, he doesn't want to look any more pathetic in front of you after this.

Kino

Famous for pushing his limits, Kino only realizes how much trouble he's in when you go for the pliers. At that point, his usual smartass behavior vanishes— he's begging in no time, laughing nervously as he promises to listen to you next time, to be better, to do anything so long as you don't go through with this. He thrashes and struggles when you go for his fangs anyway, though, and will curl up and cry for a long while in the aftermath.

[tozettastone]

Just on the topic of radical feminism— (heads up that there's some transphobic stuff discussed below, although not in much detail)

I think it's worthwhile to acknowledge that radical feminism did have its era. I know we deride it a lot online now and we have some good reasons for that. And I also do think it isn't really the right tool for approaching the evolving gender landscape of modern life. Radical feminism views all oppression of women as a result of gender relations between men and women (who are binary opposites) specifically. Today, a lot of highly educated people who think deeply about sex and gender have stopped treating gender as, like, "these are the unalterable facts about our bodies and they have a specific, inalienable social and biological meaning," which makes radical feminism just kind of... less useful to us. A school of thought that wants gender as an entire concept to be dismembered and served up on the good silverware can't really make use of a framework that's grounded in gender binary.

But I still think it's worth knowing about radical feminism.

I just think we kind of need to understand where we as feminists have been if we want to understand why we're here. Radical feminism did, in fact, have its era. Once you start thinking about it in its context, it's absolutely no coincidence that it emerged as a force in a froth of rage during the post-war years in the west—when the menfolk came back from war and the women were so condescendingly ushered right back into the home. It's worth reading your Catharine MacKinnon and Andrea Dworkin and Carol Hanisch (and, yeah, even the most loudly hostile transphobes like Sheila Jeffreys or the off-the-wall spite of Valerie Solanas, yes, sorry), and it's worth thinking about the absolute rage that informs, well, pretty much anything Sylvia Plath wrote (although I don't think she'd ever have called herself a radical feminist, if she'd lived that long—she's furious about the same things, though). All that stuff from the 50s (or late 40s, if we count de Beauvoir's The Second Sex) and 60s and 80s is useful and educational, if the people around you read you as a woman when you walk around on the street. It's worth reading and knowing where words like 'patriarchy,' and phrases like 'male supremacy,' and 'the personal is political,' are coming from.

And, anyway, reading something doesn't mean you should treat it as an authority. Obviously I don't think you should read Jeffreys and come away agreeing with her that "sex reassignment is mutilation," because I personally think that's incorrect (because... see my point above about dismembering gender). But maybe you shouldn't take my, or anyone else's, word for it? Maybe you should read and find out how she arrives at that idea and figure out what you think about that? If you come away thinking she's wrong, you'll be able to explain to yourself, clearly and with high quality critical thinking, exactly why. And if you read a bunch of radical feminist stuff and come out going "all this was a massive distraction from a more significant axis of oppression—which affects all women anyway—which is CLASS," or something, that's a reasonable criticism that you can probably support. I know people who think that, too.

I guess I just sincerely believe that we really only get to know one little tiny bit of reality from one single point of view at a time. So each new piece of information can form part of the lens through which to view reality. And to me it's just so much more useful to understand radical feminism as a deeply necessary, if now outdated, era of feminist thought than it is to howl "RADFEM RHETORIC," and not actually know what you mean by that.

Anyway if you got to the end of this and you're like, "yeah, maybe I should read more historically significant theories, but I simply lack the will and energy," then. Understandable. Have a nice day. LOL.

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Hey i saw your requests are open and i wanted to ask if you can make a law x reader with a devil fruit that makes them have the powers blue diamond had in Steven universe, if you haven’t watch it basically she can causes other people to cry when she cries out of sadness, and could also include how reader was forced to eat the fruit when she was young that was orders form doflamingo after her mom was kill right in front of her brutally and that only making the devil fruit more powerful and maybe this can be around the dressrosa arc with the straw hats (know thats a lot so its ok if you leave some stuff out )

Many thanks 💜💜

Hi hello! This is a challenge but I shall accept. I’ve never watched Stevens Universe, so I did a little research about the character. HOWEVER. This is my attempt, and I don't really like how it turned out, and it's really short. But I hope you enjoy!

☠ WC: 1079

Warnings: Flashbacks, trauma, reader hates Doflamingo, gore (body, torture, medical- the worst of it is in the first paragraph, which you can skip. Otherwise it's just a threat, and a medical learning experience (holding a brain)).

Coming back to Dressrosa was hard. Really hard. Even just walking through the streets where everything was poisoned with rose-colored lenses. Happiness and prosperity? It was a vile plague of fake memories. People would be disgusted like you if they knew the real Doflamingo. The bastard that forced you to eat that damned devil fruit, shoving it into your mouth as you screamed. You closed your eyes, an image of your mothers mutilated body gasping and gagging as she convulsed- jaw forced open by the wire muzzle that choked her with a protruding bar. Her back arched until you were sure it would snap. Again. Her fingers twisted into unnatural shapes, as if she couldn’t decide to cling to life or crawl to hell. Her skin was ashen-

“Hey” a light touch on your fingers yanked you violently back to the present. You flinched at the touch.

“Stay in the present” Law murmured gently. You grunted.

“Hard to do when we’re here because of the past” you muttered. Law had nothing to say to that, only entwining a pinky with yours. You relished the touch.

“Remember, the people are innocent. It’s Doflamingo we’re after” he said after a few minutes. You took a deep breath, easing your nerves. You nodded resolutely. You focused on your companions- the click of Robins shoes, the quiet rattling of Ceasar’s sea prism stone chains, and Usopp’s bag that held his ammunition that clicked with his movements.

You let yourself order a calming cup of tea the group stopped at, focusing on your goal- to get across the bridge without being eaten or impaled by the monstrous fish that swarmed the area. Law put a hand on your thigh, squeezing your knee while you spent time sipping your drinks. You tried not to giggle at his dumb moustache he put on as a disguise.

“So” Robin started conversationally. You looked at her. She took a sip of coffee before continuing, “You mentioned you had a devil fruit power?”

“Ah. Right. I ate the sad-sad fruit. Or really, was forced to eat it by Doflamingo. Basically, I have a range of people that I can make so sad that they cry. It’s useful in battle, bringing enemies down to their knees, so I can either escape or knock them out. If I send out a strong enough wave, it can send people into paralyzing grief. Of course, it doesn't really work on people who have depression. But generally, it's pretty useful. Ah! But don't worry,” you added on, looking at Usopp's rather fearful expression, "I've learned to control who's affected by it. You can kinda think of it like Law's 'room'."

Usopp and Ceasar looked immensely relieved. Robin hummed, cocking her head.

“Any cost to you? Since it’s not a logia type” she asked. You shrugged.

“If I use it too much, it’ll give me a pounding headache.”

It felt good talking about something different. It distracted you from your own mind, and Law seemed to pick up on this. He wrapped an arm around the back of your chair.

"How long have you two known each other?" Usopp asked, eyeing Law's possessive arm. You turned to smile shyly at your boyfriend, but he let you answer, simply sipping his coffee with a grunt.

"A very long time" you answered.

"Cesar" Law muttered dangerously. The man stiffened, slowly looking over at the ravenette, fear evident on his face.

"Remember, I have your heart. If I even think you're going to say a word about us dating, I will kill you. Painfully." Law kept his expression neutral and his voice low. To anyone out of earshot, he could've been talking about the weather. Robin giggled. Cesar was sweating, and would've been pale had his face not already been paper-white. Usopp blanched at the threat, even though it wasn't directed at him.

"If he even starts, I hope you'll remember to remove his brain for me so I can join in the fun" you played off Law's casual threat. Cesar looked like he was about to piss himself. Usopp looked like he wanted to hide, and Robin only smiled. You returned the woman's smile with an innocent one of your own.

"You two are terrifying" Usopp muttered into his drink. Law's hand moved to your shoulder, sliding to the nape of your neck possessively. You knew without looking he was smirking at the long-nosed man playfully.

"You have no idea" you purred, leaning forward. Your mind was much more focused now in the present now with this banter.

"Now, now, we can't have the sniper shaking too much" Robin chided with a sip of her coffee. You hummed.

"You're right. I'm only messing with you, Usopp. I've only held a human brain once" you teased, leaning into Law's easy hold, flicking your gaze over to Cesar's. He gulped, terror in his eyes. Of course, this was true, but it was only when you asked Law about the anatomy of the human brain. He couldn't find a diagram that he felt did the actual thing justice, so he let you study one, courtesy of an unconscious marine. The marine had no idea what had happened when he was unconscious, and probably figured the splitting headache he woke up was due to the solid punch you landed on his temple.

"Fascinating. What was it like?" Robin questioned with a tilt of her head. You opened your mouth to answer, but Usopp and Cesar started screeching for the two of you to stop at the same time.

"DON'T ANSWER HER!" "AAAHHHH LALALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU"

You laughed heartily at their reactions. Law even smiled, despite their loud protests drawing a few stares. Luckily, their disturbance was dismissed without suspicion with your laughter and Robin's chuckle. Once the laughter died down, Law brought the attention back to the issue at hand.

"We need a plan to get through the bridge"

You tensed, but Law tightened his hand on your shoulder, grounding you. You breathed in and out. In. Out. Again. The basic plan was put in place, and you listened as you gazed towards the sectioned off entrance.

You twined your fingers with Law's under the table, squeezing his hand two times in quick succession. I love you.

His hand returned the squeezes, two in quick succession. I love you too. You smiled to yourself, and threw back the rest of your now cold tea.

It was time to begin.

[darklordofthesimp]

Oh man, Anything is so wonderfully fucked up, I can’t wait to see where it goes! Poor birdy having to deal with all this shit, and also (slightly less so) poor konig, he also has to live with this whole thing on his conscience forever 😭 this whole thing sucks for both of them.

(Ngl I’d be pretty mad at price, I’m no expert on therapy but I don’t think pitting someone against the person who mutilated and nearly killed them RIGHT after they recover without establishing any kind of communication first is good or healthy?? PTSD central. Also just in general, who starts someone just going into training after being injured with the biggest strongest person available??? Dick move price)

This definitely isn't Price's first rodeo.

Whenever we get fucked up or we struggle with something to the point of anxiety, we get thrown back into it over and over and over until we improve. When we were doing combat training, the smallest girl got thrown at the 6'4 giant and got told to get to work.

She was literally having an anxiety attack and they were like "nope you're gonna keep fucking doing this until you stop crying".

It was wild.

But the concepts the same. Birdy has physically recovered well enough to spar and train and get back out onto the force. Remember, the idea that Königs going to beat the shit out of Birdy is all in her head. She's an unreliable narrator.

That's definitely not what training is, they can't break your bones and put you in hospital intentionally, you might cop a few blows but think about training martial arts. It's the same concept. When you go to Karate or Muay Thai training you don't walk out of there with snapped limbs maybe you're sore or you sprain a body part at worst. Iron is sharpening iron.

This fear of getting annihilated is a direct result of what happened. Birdy isn't actually in an unsafe position physically, just mentally.

And Price knows that. Because Price made damn fucking sure that König knew if he hurt Birdy, he'd fucking put him down like a dog and throw him in an unmarked hole.

It's a mental battle now, Price can't have Birdy on the field having a mental breakdown because she's paranoid about what's happening behind her. Or Missing critical shots because she heard a bird landing on the roof. She needs to feel powerful, overcome what traumatised her and be back stronger than ever.

Definitely not Price's first rodeo.

But Ghost still wants to throw hands because he thinks its stupid.

[osokasstuff]

i'm too pissed off to sleep so i'm going to bitch about some takes and overall transphobic shit i had to see lately. this post isn't directed at anyone here, "you" used in general sense and only directed at people who said quoted shit.

tw transphobia, intersexism, exorsexism, terfism (all of it in quotes), mentions of igm, racism, and genocide, tons of caps, me being very aggressive and bitchy

> "trans people uphold gender stereotypes"

wow today i get to know the demographic that is literally seen as failing to perform both gender roles at the same time actually upholds gender stereotypes. and the same person said, "if you wear the skirt, your dick won't disappear." how gender non-stereotypical. /sarcasm

genuinely fuck you. have you ever considered the fact that maybe, MAYBE man = dick and woman = vulva is a gender stereotype too? or are you too coward for this? /rhetorical

i'm so sick of this argument, really. it sucks itself. i'm tired of its inevitable bullshitness. i have neither energy nor desire to destroy it properly. i'm so tired.

> "men in dresses in women's bathrooms"

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU. maybe we live in different worlds with these people because in my world there's no gender policy that stops everyone with man gender identity from entering women's bathroom. like. cis man without dress can actually enter, you know? nothing prevents them, you know? sorry for destroying your nice illusion of security, but if someone wants to enter any bathroom with malicious intentions, nothing actually stops them. so you're doomed to pee in fear until the end of your lives. just like we do.

> *unquotable whining about how everyone protects the rights of people who label themselves as gender-neutral pots*

HAVE YOU EVER SPOKEN WITH A TRANS PERSON IN YOUR LIFE??? and if yes, where the fuck you live because i want to move there! NEUTRAL GENDER MARK, NOT XENOGENDERS, NOT EVEN DIFFERENT OPTIONS, SIMPLE NEUTRAL GENDER FUCKING MARK IS LEGAL IN APPROXIMATELY DOSEN OF COUNTRIES!!! where have you found these mythical places where you're FORCED to respect xenogender people because i want to go there and stay there forever! even in trans communities, xenogender people are often mocked and ostracized! do you think xenogender liberation is the only our problem? YOU LIVE IN THE FUCKING COUNTRY WHERE TRANSITION IS PROHIBITED! and so in lots of other countries! and even in countries where it's allowed, there are always tons of assholes who want to ban or restrict it again! YOU CAN'T STAND THE IDEA THAT THE PRECIOUS GENDER (TM) CAN BE ANYTHING BESIDES MAN AND WOMAN AND WE'RE THE ONES WHO UPHOLD GENDER STEREOTYPES? and moreso, you think the binary gender system is a NATURAL ORDER OF THINGS? genuinely go fuck yourself.

> "but there are only two sexes!"

YOU THINK LIKE THAT ONLY BECAUSE OTHER PEOPLE WHO THINK LIKE THAT SUBJECT INFANTS TO GENITAL MUTILATIONS, AND LATER PUT INTERSEX PEOPLE ON "CORRECTIVE" TREATMENT WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT. you don't even KNOW about HORRIBLE LEVELS OF VIOLENCE that are used to uphold your nice sweet idea about only two fucking sexes. go fuck urself, SEX IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT, moreso, IT'S A VIOLENCE-BASED CONSTRUCT, and if you're not aware about it, you're not allowed to bitch about gender being a social construct. binary sex and gender systems are based on unbelievable levels of violence, on literal genocide and erasure of intersex people, poc, and trans people. THAT are actual social constructs, and they are made FOR YOUR COMFORT by YOUR FRIENDS who are happy to murder, torture, and erase MILLIONS OF PEOPLE for your ability to never reconsider your understandings of sex and gender.

> "i don't like trans people but don't misgender them"

oh THANK YOU YOUR PRECIOUS GRACIOUS MAJESTY for your GENEROUS DECISION to not misgender us, MISERABLE FREAKS who definitely don't deserve SUCH A NICE TREATMENT. should i start to kiss your ass immediately or wait until you finish your condescending reasoning about why you're so PATIENT AND UNDERSTANDING towards us? /sarcasm

i swear, one day, i'll start to treat them like they treat trans people. /not serious

you know, i don't get all this stuff about being perisex cis, i mean, they just kinda... take what they're given from birth and use it? without any reflection and, you know, actually thinking about it? don't you think it upholds gender stereotypes, like, if you were assigned [insert], you live your life as [insert], isn't it kinda... stereotypical? maybe they should at least try to live in a different gender? to know for sure? i mean, i can't even imagine how it is to be perisex cis, so it's probably really weird, and maybe they'll change their mind when they get older? of course, if they're nice and don't ask too much, i will use their pronouns... maybe, but do you agree it's weird, not to say gross, on their side?

i'm so fucking done with this shit. i know most of the people who say shit are not genuinely malicious and are deeply uneducated or misinformed, but it's so heartbreaking, triggering, and exhausting to see this shit everywhere. i'm done with having to tolerate such a bullshit or leave spaces/lose connections and live in constant fear of revealing another transphobe-exorsexist-intersexist in my surroundings. sometimes i wanna people to consider the fact that trans, nonbinary, and intersex people are around them, can hear their bullshit, and have feelings about it. at the very fucking least. i'm done being discussed like i'm a fucking exotic thing and not someone actually existing in public and online spaces.

sometimes i wish some people a very nice shut the fuck up.

[fipindustries]

so i wanted to do a little special thing for halloween, me reading the conqueror worm, followed by a small analisis of what i think of the poem.

while it is not my favourite edgar allan poe poem, it is still a particularly moving one that i am fascinated by, mainly because of the cosmology it implies.

it presents this scenario of a chorus of angels going to see a play at the theatre and it is obviously a metaphor for the world, right, all the world is a stage and all that. and the angels sit in their heaven watching the dramas the humans carry as if they were an audience in their seats.

now its interesting how the stage-as-the-world is presented, it speaks of mimics playing as god and of the staging being carried by "vast formless things". it insinuates that the mechanisms of the world are moved by incomprehensible forces beyond human understanding and that this is a sinister thing. "invisible Wo!" (wo being essentially woe, an old expression of distress or horror)

so, from the get go it presents a world moved and influenced not necesarily by the orderly, beatific designs of a kind god, but a vast and dark and complex world beyond our understanding moved by sinister invisible forces, which is a fascinating view of the world for 1843, it doesnt seem the perspective of a nice orthodox christian man.

this gets pushed to its maximum expression when the conqueror worm appears. and its a very literal giant worm, writhing and all. now the worm doesnt seem to be necesarily part of the play, it "intrudes" and then gores the actors, eating them. is this not disturbingly discordant? if it IS part of the play then dear god, what a grisly and macabre play it is. the angels dont interfere or try to stop or save anyone, they just kind of leave shaking their heads, lamenting that this is the way of the world. what are we to make of this creature?

is it that its role in the play that is the world is to be death? if so it is a very unique representation of death. death is usually show as a grave, stern, menacingly quiet figure, or as a silent melancholic one. but even these depictions carry some dignity, they carry some level of consolation in that they are merely following the order of the universe. the worm is particularly brutal, its is visceral and disturbing, it intrudes and gores, it mutilates, its profane.

Also its name is so evocative! Is not the killer worm or the savage worm, its the conqueror worm. It has a title and its purpose is to conquer, and its presumably winning. I like to think that the worm is not death or the devil or the evil in the hearts of men. I prefer to take it as it is, this disturbing discordant unstopable evil force of evil. This out of context threat that can at any moment disrupt into our world, which not even the angels themselves can stop, and destroy all. I think that makes it more discordant, more disquieting. Its very lovecraftian.

I just love this little scenario poe paints. Of the angels watching a nice little play about life and then, oh fuck, the big evil monster that conquers everything comes in and kills everyone. You know, the big evil monster, the conqueror worm, that horrible force that we cant do anything about, you know the guy.

Its just so bleak

[randomingoftherandomness]

The late Sword Wielder made a promise to a loyal clan, if he had a daughter she would marry the son of the Lord Master of the clan. Not having a daughter he proposed Yuanzhi.

Years later the Lord Master went to the Gong family to claim his son husband.

Shangjue wasn't pleased, Ziyu wasn't pleased even the elders weren't pleased.

Thighs got worse when the Lord Master asked Yuanzhi to undress in front of everyone to see if he was pretty enough for his son or even for himself.

I was watching a jdrama with that scene and I couldn't stop to think what would happen if Shangjue had to witness his didi be ashamed like that.

Can you write something like this? Thanks ☺️

A/N: Nonnie. You can't leave me a prompt like this and expect that I won't want to kiss you on the cheeks because I do. I took a little but of liberties and tweaked the fic to fit. I hope it's ok, Nonnie? So. Muah muah, I hope you enjoy this!

Tags: Mentions of Genital Mutilation, Mentions of Rape, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Groping, Angst, Established Relationship(s), Gong Shangjue x Gong Yuanzhi

--

"It should be me."

"Zishang..."

"I...I'm the only girl born in our generation." She shakes her head, distraught wavering her voice "It should be me."

Yuanzhi quietly watches the way Jin Fan reaches out for her hand and takes it ever so gently between his palms. He doesn't say a word. Only wiping away her tears. He looks at her like she's his entire world and for a brief moment, Yuanzhi wonders if he will ever have what they have.

They're engaged to be married in two month's time. Most of the jianghu has already been informed of the marriage of the Eldest Miss of the Gong Family, and many are already en route to the valley to pay their wedding respects. Which is why they're stuck in this problem.

The Yang clan are loyalists, neither a minor family nor one of extreme repute, what they are known for is how ruthless they can be. Rumours were and very much are that their clan members practice some level of witchcraft to control their enemies and force them to become their slaves.

When they first pledged their allegiances to the Gong family two generations ago, the Zhiren that held the position then had promised the Master of the Yang clan the hand of the next daughter born in direct line to the lineages in the Gong family to him or any of his descendants.

And that hadn't happened until Gong Zishang.

"Is there anything we can do?"

Jin Fan is holding Zishang jie to him, pleadingly looking over at Ziyu. Yuanzhi steals a look at his gege, only to find him frowning down at the contract in his hand. It has been verified with its twin from the record rooms and it is horrifically iron-clad.

Yuanzhi already knows what their Zhiren doesn't say. Short of an all-out war that they cannot afford right now as they're still rebuilding their defences, there's little to nothing that they can do.

Zishang jie will have to marry into the Yang clan.

Yuanzhi sneaks another look at Zishang jie and Jin Fan. He watches the way her face crumples in clear sorrow and how Jin Fan holds her tightly in his arms. He flits his gaze over to Zhiren and his wife who sit close together, knee pressing to knee, then he chances a glimpse at Shangjue when he looks over at Zishang.

"We will find a way," He says. There's a determined air in his voice, but Yuanzhi knows all of his brother's tells. He's just as helpless as the rest of them. Between all of them, they're the only two who has a love that cannot speak its name.

He turns his gaze back to his lap.

Yes, they will have a way.

The man who struts confidently into the hall carries with him the aura of someone who is used to getting his way by hook or by crook. There's a gleeful smile that gleams from under his beard at the sight of Zishang jie, and it doesn't abate even as he pays his respect, in a sketch of a bow to the Zhiren.

"Greetings to the Zhiren! Greetings to the Elders and to the Masters. I am honoured that you all have gathered to welcome such a lowly one as me! It is such an auspicious day for both our families. I hope you won't begrudge me when I say that I look forward to our families finally becoming one."

Yuanzhi bristles. He controls himself, schooling his facial expression to note the equally smug group of men that also filter into the hall as the entourage to the Lord of the Yang clan.

Elder Xue conveys their family's greetings, even if everyone can tell that he is equally as displeased about the whole matter as the rest of the Gong representatives.

Lord Yang laughs his eyes roams pervertedly over Zishang. "I believe that this is the Gong family's Eldest Miss? I can't say that the rumours of your beauty have been exaggerated, but I'm sure you'll do--"

"No."

The silence that falls in the hall is deafening. And Yuanzhi pushes himself to a stand, looking the detestable man dead in the eye. "No," He says again. "She won't be your family's bride."

"Oh?" Lord Yang cocks an eyebrow. Tilting his head, he scoffs, leading his man to chuckle darkly when he continues, "And are you going to take her place?"

"Yes," Yuanzhi replies, ignoring the shocked call of his name from Zishang and Zhiren.

He ignores them all, especially the low and dangerous, "Gong Yuanzhi, what do you think you're doing?" by his gege.

Yuanzhi steels himself and doesn't waver when Lord Yang walks conceitedly towards him, coming close enough that Yuanzhi can almost taste the stench of rotting meat on his breath.

"Well, you would be a prize to have, hm?" Lord Yang purrs, perhaps going for charming but landing somewhere in the realm of odious instead. There is a calculating spark in his dark beady eyes. Reaching up, he curls a braid around his finger, rubbing his thumb over the silver ornaments as he leans in.

"To have the chance to tame the viper of the Gong family would certainly be an achievement indeed."

With rapid movements, he unsheaths a hidden dagger in his sleeve and before Yuanzhi can react, he has sliced up the front of Yuanzhi's clothes, ripping them off in tatters.

"Lord Yang!"

Bile rises hot and thick in his chest. Yuanzhi is paralysed by the unfamiliar feeling of impotence and when he tries to use his hands to cover himself up, Lord Yang tuts as if chiding a child and wraps his hand around Yuanzhi's manhood, squeezing painfully enough that Yuanzhi lets out an involuntary gasp.

He hardly registers the way Lord Yang laughs, hot tears prickling and dripping down his cheeks in shame when Lord Yang pulls him close, slapping his ass before gripping him hard, roaring with pleasure.

"This is a good trade! I'll have much fun taming you in my bed! I have never been picky with my lovers, but this one will be a treat, huh? I’ll just need to do a little bit of… Reconfiguring." He flicks at the head of Yuanzhi's cock. "Don't worry beautiful viper, I'll make sure you hardly even miss it."

The vomit in Yuanzhi's throat rises, and he shakes, weakly trying to push the man away when he playfully makes to kiss him.

He's openly choking on tears. Even more so when Lord Yang whispers in his ear, "I can't wait to see you bounce on my cock, pretty viper. It won't matter if you're unwilling, I'll have you anyway. You'll scream so prettily for me, won't you? I'm going to make you cry, make you choke on my cum--"

A spray of blood on Yuanzhi face is the thing that spares him from whatever vile promises are being spewed. He stumbles half a step back, falling into the gentle gunpowder comfort of Zishang's arms that wrap him up in a cloak, holding him tightly against her as she drags him to the side when the hall erupts in sounds of fighting.

"You absolute idiot, what did you have to do that for?!" Zishang hisses, the sound caught between a cry and a sob. Yuanzhi doesn't answer. He can't. Not when he's snapping to the side and vomiting out everything he had last.

Zishang rubs his back through that, still holding on to him when he was done.

"Thank you, Yuanzhi didi, thank you..."

Yuanzhi curls himself into her embrace, holding on to her like a lifeline. When hands try to pull him away, he starts crying, screaming, "No!"

"Didi, it's just me! It's just me..."

The words cut through the fog in his mind. Shangjue's face swims into his view and his sight blurs with tears. Throwing himself into his gege's arms, he sobs silently into the line of his shoulder, choking on spit and snot.

"Did we get all of them?"

"Yes. As per your instructions, we left one alive to run back to their clan to bear this news to their elders. We should prepare."

"Put their heads on pikes at the entrance to the valley," Shangjue says, the dangerous curl of the syllables rumbling against Yuanzhi's chest. "Make sure everyone knows that this is a warning."

"More than that, make sure that whatever happened here today is not spoken about. If any of the servants of the Gong family are caught gossiping, it will be grounds for flogging and immediate dismissal."

Yuanzhi catches the way their Zhiren nods, relaying the order to the Jade Guardians. Careful hands wipe away his tears and Yuanzhi jolts a little. Shangjue purses his lips.

"I'm sorry," Yuanzhi tries. His teeth chatter and the words come out in little more than a slur.

Gege shakes his head. "You did what you thought was right to protect a member of our family. I won't ever fault you for that."

Yuanzhi nods, tucking his face back into the crook of Shangjue's neck. From the sounds of it, their family will have to face the consequences of his action today. When Shangjue gege shifts him into a bridal carry, he catches one last sight of Lord Yang with a familiar dagger sticking out of the back of his head.

"He said..." Yuanzhi tries haltingly. "He said it wouldn't matter if I was unwilling. He'd make me take it anyways."

The hold on him tightens and some small part of Yuanzhi's heart latches onto the way it makes him feel so protected and safe to be held like this. Shangjue doesn't say another word and whisks him away from the hall. Yuanzhi closes his eyes.

Whatever happens next, he will need to be strong enough to face it with the rest of his family.