#not having my own private space makes me want to kill myself for real

[lakemichigans]

i'm having. another aunt. come stay. with me. UNINVITED.

[please-be-nice-im-sensitive]

Okay, I want to hear some of your dreams now. I don't get them really often and I never can remember them, only nightmares. And because of one of them I can't learn how to drive a car, because I'm too scared.

(and sorry, I don't reply to your asks. I've never done this before, and I honestly dk what to say.)

it is quite alright!!! This is long btw

I’ve had this dream three times now: I am not the main character in my dream, I know this from the beginning. It starts out with flashing red and blue lights, screaming, and a feeling of claustrophobia

then i wake up, and I’m a sickly woman in the Victorian era who can’t leave the house because of immune system issues, and her husband takes care of her. It’s alright though because he has familial wealth and never makes taking cafe of me seem like a burden. He is sweet and kind, and has beautiful eyes and beautiful hair, but subtly attractive, yk? Anyways we live in a big house in the middle of nowhere and own many acres of land surrounding the mansion. I vaguely remember once having a maid, but she doesn’t seem real. He wakes me up each morning with freshly cooked breakfast and tea and every day I feel like I’m falling in love with him harder. Then one day while he’s away, getting materials since the winter is soon and we live in the mountains so we could get snowed in.

i hear a scream from the woods. We live on private property, so this is odd. I tell him about it, and the next day he goes looking through the woods with our two German shepherds, and a determined expression. I try to step outside but he tells me to stay inside because he doesn’t want me to get hurt. He is gone for several days, but when he gets back, he gives me a warm smile and tells me “do not worry love, it is nothing, I have dealt with it”. I feel like I should worry, but he has a way of removing worry from my mind. Some days later, I’m looking in the attic for something and I find bones, and a maids outfit folded neatly next to it. I freak out, but the attic is his private space so I don’t tell him I was up there. (A office we turned into a library is my private space, we each get one) I freak out, but I don’t tell him. The thought crosses my mind that he killed someone, but it is immediately shut down by my love for him, my trust in him, my knowledge of how good and kind of a person he is. The vision at the beginning of the dream is my dream every night and I wake up screaming, and my husband comes running to calm me down and hold me. He leaves near every day now since winter is very soon and it’s getting colder and we need things. He holds me in the morning and kisses me like I am his whole world and I can feel myself falling deeper for him, yet the curiosity of the attic stays, so I head up. The bones are gone, but there is an ID there, my ID. It is dated for modern times, and at this point so many thoughts are going through my head, but I let them all go, because this CANNOT be real. I stop the suspicion, and winter comes soon, and we spend every day cuddled up with hot drinks and books. One day though, in the middle of a blizzard, a policeman knocks on the door, a modern day policeman. He tells me I have been kidnapped and he is here to take me back to my home. I slam the door in his face, but that night the dream is finally clear. I see myself falling asleep and being softly placed into the backend of a car with my mouth gagged and my arms and legs tied up. I am screaming. There are flashing lights and the back end is opened up…. By my husband, who looks at me with love and adoration in his eyes. He picks me up and carries me bridal style into the house. He gives me some tea, and soon I have a fever. He gives me blankets and food and tea and I’m so cozy that I fall asleep. Then I wake up, and I run. Out of the house, off the property. The dogs are barking, my husband is yelling, but I don’t care. There is a cop car there, and he takes me to the station. My husband is arrested. I was a detective who a murderer fell in love with and kidnapped me and pretended to be my husband in the time of the Victorian era. I have a fiancée, but I don’t seem to care about him, even after I left, all I can think of is my husband.

sorry this was long and is only one dream lol

[beautifulpersonpeach]

I'm very late to the party it seems, because only after getting more weird asks than usual, and a few explicitly naming the bloggers involved did I learn today of the ugliness that went down a short while ago. Storm has already said her bit and I respect her choice to quietly step back so this isn't me resurrecting a dead horse to bludgeon. I'm writing this because I've been on the receiving end of this sort of campaign before, have seen it play out too many times with the same types of people, and because I want it on record somewhere that I don't know anybody here personally (a conscious choice) but that all my dealings with Storm showed her to be a forthright and thorough person. And even if she wasn't, that wouldn't excuse any of this bullshit.

Normally if this were a private matter I'd keep my opinion to myself after all I don't know any of you. But the moment anybody brings this shit into the public then anybody gets to have a go at it. We've all seen these sorts of takedown posts before, and I'm not always opposed to them because sometimes they're for good reason. If someone is actually racist, or idk a serial killer, it's good for the public to know that shit. Differing opinions on jikook being real, someone cussing you out, or blocking liberally do not meet that threshold for me, but everyone's different.

When I see these takedowns happen, including when it happened to me, I've observed it usually involves HCP personalities in this blogging space that take certain actions extremely personally and nurse grievances until it festers into fuel for drama that they gratify in because in their heads they believe they’ve been scorned and therefore are right. They usually think in a very tribal sense, rope other people in and force people into camps of friend, neutrals, and foe, and wear their egos on their sleeves.

In my case, I'd only been blogging here actively for less than 5 months before a pair of bloggers and their followers accused me of feuding with them, using them for clout, and that my opinions on my blog somehow prevented them from running their own blog and speaking freely. They'd been nursing that grievance for months with the followers who felt as they did, while I was oblivious, blogging with abandon so to speak, even interacting with them, until the call-out post. And my followers had been receiving messages about how much of a horrible bitch I am (I mean, I can be a bitch but hadn't been to anyone here at that point).

Thankfully I hadn't been blogging for long so most people could go through my blog to read what I actually think, see how I actually engage, and decide for themselves if anything those bloggers said made any sense. Storm has a longer blogging history and the campaign against her more widespread since she was very active in jikook spaces, plus she legit needs a break so I get why she's decided to take one now. I still get weird asks from people who claim to be devoted to those bloggers and that shit, that behaviour, that mentality is ugly. The point here is too many people take shit personally and then try to make it everyone's problem. Some HCP people can't help it if they have those sorts of personalities, but that doesn't excuse it. Seeing shit like this just kills the vibe for anyone who doesn't get high off that nonsense, and it further frays whatever community people are trying to build here. I usually keep my distance but I admire the people who have tried, even if only in public, to connect with people here and build community. Not everyone has to like everyone else, but there's enough abuse and BS to jokers from outside the community and fandom, for anyone to think their momentary satisfaction is worth poisoning this space, or character assassinating someone else.

Apparently anyone who has voiced support for Storm, has themselves become a target, and that in itself should tell you how weird this all is lmao.

For the people flooding my inbox who think we're in kindergarten and I should declare where my loyalties lie, get a fucking grip. If you have a problem with my arguments or views, I'm always happy to engage on that basis. But if you think me liking Storm and interacting with her posts is reason enough for you to act a fool in my inbox, you must be high out of your goddamn mind. Take my advice and block me because nobody here has time for all that. Vous pouvez vous attendre à être complètement ignoré par moi à partir de ce moment. J'ai entendu dire que le sexe anal peut soulager la pression sur la tête, vous pouvez l'essayer et me dire si cela fonctionne. Ça, je le posterai sur le blog. Tout le reste sera supprimé.

Borahae. 💜

[sab-teraa]

Tye Talks: A Diary Entry

(22/02/24 || 22:58 pm)

Good evening friends, I hope you are all well and having a lovely Thursday! Just one more day till the weekend! Yay <3

Inspired by the lovely @the-winds-of-destiny-xxx , I've decided to start blogging about my day. Hopefully, I will be able to stay up to date lol.

Work

Ugh, I've been up since 5am prepping myself to deliver my second lecture of the semester. It went well, kinda. The students were super interactive which is great. Application + practicality > regurgitating information. They did super well. Also, we have a new HoD, and while I really liked our previous heads, the new HoD is a breath of fresh air and I really enjoy their approach towards education.

My full-time job is actually soooo … atm. My colleague has resigned which is all cool and I wish her the best.

But, there’s a trend I’ve noticed recently within our organization … and I hope it does not present any problems in the future. Tbh, I think it has presented a problem before … but idk. Anyway, constructive criticism goes a long long way … only if you’re keen and willing to learn …. which this person defo is NOT.

Enough about my colleagues, the CEO presented me with an opportunity but I'm lowkey nervous .. bc I prefer being a private + somewhat anonymous person lol, but I obviously said yes. Let's see how it goes, anything can happen and this whole project might fall through. Especially in this economy.

All in all, I really love my job and the career path I’ve taken. I hope it does not backfire on me later on in life.

Uni

Gosh. Uni is the bane of my existence atm. Tho, i did make a bit of progress on my thesis today. I know exactly what I need to do, but I just don't have the motivation to it. But, I think I've finally got myself together .. so let's see what happens.

Also, I'm so grateful for my thesis supervisor <3 she is so understanding and supportive.

Health

Is this tmi? Maybe? Apologies if so?

But, my nose and throat have been KILLING me recently? Idk if it’s bc of the fan or what … but yup. Thank god for cloves! They’ve helped wayyyy more than anything else I’ve tried lol. Also, my pms is really starting to hit 😭😭 I’ve been in soooo much pain since I got back home.

My mentally, I’m doing okay … there’s obvs moments in the day where I’m like shit?? I’m an adult adult?? Yet my life feels so stagnant 😂 but then I try to keep it moving and not think so much about what I want … and I try to focus on what I do have…. bc I’ve done my best.

Fun and mundane

I finally got to go to my first gym class of the week - I really needed that! The housewives from my class invited me for smoothies afterwards … and they are so fun! Are they my mums age mates? Yes 😂😂 but I loved hanging out with them .. they truly live in their own bubble .. I wanna be exactly like them when I’m older lol.

Oh Oh! And I finally finished the second season of Al Rawabi School for Girls ... flip, it truly broke my heart. What an amazing show.

I really wanted to start the new season of Real Housewives of Durban … but the new Showmax app is truly YUCK! I have the ick 🫠🫠 but, I love the show waaaaay too much, so I’d probs get over it soon lol.

Other than gym and catching up on tv, I made a delicious lasagna for dinner. I'm convinced that my homemade meat sauce and cheese sauce remains undefeated, or maybe that's just me being cocky lol. If I had more space, I would have defo attempted to make the pasta too.

I'm super excited for this weekend bc my friends and I are going to this art and music event and getting food afterwards. I also really wanna buy that duvet set I saw online ... since I'm no longer purchasing an apartment (recession boo boo boo 🍅🍅🍅), I may as well just re-do my current apartment lol. It already looks great, but I've been putting off getting a new duvet set bc I presumed I was gonna buy a bigger bed lol... so I've just been rotating between the two sets I have ... and damn they've seen better days lol.

Relationships

After all he has been through, my brother finally has some great things happening. I am so proud of him. I know he will achieve everything he aspires to <3 This has also done wonders for his self-confidence, he truly needed this, and I hope ... I really hope that it stays on this positive track.

Positive family news aside, idk if anyone saw the post about my uncle? But god damn I'm annoyed af. (Side note: He is my mums cousin btw; but my entire family is close). Anyway, my uncle called my mum to rant … and according to my mum he was sooooo proud of what he said to his wife??? I’m just disgusted. Idk how. His wife could forgive him for this. I’m so glad my mum put him in his place ✋🏽✋🏽✋🏽

I know its not about me and I have no right to speak on other people's relationships, but I hate seeing people put their all into a relationship and even go against their own family to be with someone ... only for their partner to treat them like this. His wife deserves soooooo much better and its sooo heartbreaking that she has to go through. My heart truly breaks for her. I pray everything works out for her.

Conclusion

Anywho … if you made it this far! Thank you for reading my ramblings <3 wishing you a lovely day! Stay safe babes 😘

[drbased]

Radfem makes me too aware and I just wanna die. How do we live in such a world with so much awareness? It’s painful to know. Other women ignore it and live delusionally better lives.

Oh, anon, I understand. It's the paradox of awareness; we're expected to grow and develop a larger pool of knowledge and wisdom whilst that same larger awareness ends up hurting us greatly.

Honestly, the main thing I would recommend is staying away from online radfem misery echo chambers. I don't like to reblog tragedies, or violence against women, or anything negative outside general observations, quotes from books, and theory. I'm always on the lookout for radfem-friendly blogs that don't share horrible news stories or graphic imagery without trigger warnings.

The problem with the internet is that you can easily access the Worst Horrors. But also, being Aware of the Worst Horrors doesn't actually make you a better, more moral person, or a better activist or feminist. It just wears you down, makes you feel shittier and shittier about the world. I would recommend making your world smaller and smaller; think of the internet as just another collection of books on your bookshelf and nothing more. With what you do know, learn to make peace with the idea that those Horrors existed before you knew about them, and that you're not responsible for them, and you're allowed to forget about them. If you're not planning on being any sort of activist, just forget most of this shit and concentrate on the things and people you love. Life's not worth it.

For me, radical feminism became a gateway into recognising my True Worth as a woman and human being; I have thoroughly incorporated feminism into my personal moral philosophy, and I feel enriched, emboldened and more grounded in result. After years of feeling stupid and insecure, I can finally recognise why and how that's come about. It's miserable to realise just how much the people who claim to love you are hurting you, and it can get very lonely - but I'm learning to come to peace with people as flawed members of a patriarchal society, each trying to survive and make sense of the world in their own way. I understand things a lot better than I used to, and I understand myself a lot better than I used to, and there's a real comfort, perhaps even a joy, in that.

I would also like to say that, frankly, it's arguable that these other women lead better lives. For one, you're doomed to misery if you believe that there is an objective measure of a 'good life'. Remember, everyone you meet is trying to project the best of themselves and their lives - you don't know what's going on in their private lives. And from what I've seen, the life of an average women is literally a horror story; women suffer greatly, losing their sanity and sense of self merely to cope with a world that punishes them for daring to exist. Your awareness may kill a certain part of you that was naive and lighthearted, but it will also set you free. You were never going to stay naive and lighthearted forever, and no doubt at some point your naivete could have lead you into the kind of real danger that kills women, metaphorically or physically. Maybe you already have had that happen to you. In which case, consider this your awakening, your sense of closure, an opportunity for real growth; you have an opportunity to gain a real understanding of your life and personhood that the patriarchy never wanted you to have. This is your chance to be human in a way that society doesn't think is even possible, this is a chance to defy all odds, this is a chance to say no, I will carve out a space for who I am.

Lastly, I'd like to make some shameless plugs; first, for my tag wisdom posting - I truly believe that you cannot develop and coherent and robust philosophical model of understanding and approaching the world without feminism, and in this tag I collect and describe all the wisdom that has really worked for me. To shamelessly quote myself

'you cannot gain true wisdom or understanding of the world without feminism. you cannot make the connections you need to make about how the human mind relates to things like suffering, competition and ego without decoupling yourself from male thought. female thought will set you free. male thought is designed to strangle you from within.'

When you realise just how much you've been lied to, you will find comfort in real truth.

And I'd also like to make another plug for my other blog learning womanhood, where I reblog and share everything I can find that deconstructs reverses patriarchal narratives around male supremacy, and instead centers women and female positivity. I used to be a very male-centred person; I thought of myself as an 'honourary guy' (way before hearing of transgenderism), so in this blog I re-examine what womanhood means to me and decouple myself from patriarchal understandings of who I am and my relationship with my sexed body. I've learned so much about how our (female) bodies are more robust; that we still don't know our potential in sport and exercise but we can develop our knowledge through rethinking what women-centered sport would look like; various contributions women have made throughout history, which have been ignored; that everything men say about women is complete projection; that women are the default form of human being; I could go on. It's been an exercise in deprogramming my mind and reconnecting with the full extent of my humanity and capability. All of this enrichment has been achieved through feminism. So there are horrible, horrible downsides, but it's the price I'm willing to pay for this level of understanding and sense of self in a world that was hostile to me way before I even knew what that meant.

[barnesbabee]

ATEEZ WOULD YOU RAHTER (NSFW)

MY PERSONAL DYNAMICS (under the cut)

Would you rather...

~ Make out with Yeosang or dry hump Yunho?

Make out w Yeosang, dry humping is a bit awkward to me.

~ Give Mingi a lap dance or have Wooyoung do a sexy dance for you?

Give Mingi a lap dance because I wouldn't know how to react to someone dancing for me lmao

~Tease San under the table at dinner or Jongho tease you under the table?

I really like teasing men lmao so this one is a given, also I can't imagine Jongho being comfortable doing anything in public, he gives me the vibes of someone who likes to keep private things in private.

~Give hickeys to Yeosang or get hickeys from Seonghwa?

Get hickeys 100%

~ Praise Hongjoong or receive body worship from Yunho?

Receive body worship cause I think Hongjoong would be really cocky and just reply "I know" lmao

~ Blindfold Mingi or be blindfolded by San?

Blindfold Mingi 100% I think he'd sound really good in that scenario, also if I can't see what's happening I'll just space out

~ Sexting with Wooyoung or send dirty snaps to Seonghwa?

Sexting, dirty snaps get old real quick, there's only so much dick and ab shots you can receive before getting bored, sexting keeps it interesting.

~ Choke Yeosang or be choked by Jongho?

Be choked a bajillion percent, and with jongho???? what a given.

~ Pull Hongjoong’s hair or Yunho pull your hair?

Hongjoong just sounds so whiny, I love it. Also, I don't like having my hair pulled (unexpected, ik)

~Tie up Wooyoung or Jongho tie you up?

Sounds exciting, and also I like to have the other person touching me, having them tied up wouldn't do it for me.

~ Beg for Seonghwa or Mingi beg for you?

I simply don't like begging.

~ Ride Jongho’s thigh or sit on San’s face?

Sit on San's face cause just like the dry humping, I think thigh riding is a bit awkward.

~ Dirty talk with Seonghwa or Mingi?

Mingi, I think he's a lot more confident than he leads on + with that voice??? yes.

~ Spank Wooyoung or Hongjoong?

Wooyoung, Hongjoong is cocky but Wooyoung is bratty, I think he'd be more fun to spank in the sense that he'd be more challenging.

~ Get spanked by Jongho or Yunho?

I think he'd have less mercy once he got into it, while Jongho would still try to be careful.

~ Deny San his orgasm or Seonghwa deny you yours?

Love teasing.

~ Have Yeosang as a master or Hongjoong as a pet?

How about I kill myself

~ Touch yourself and make Yunho watch or Mingi touch himself and make you watch?

~ Call Hongjoong ‘daddy’ or Seonghwa call you ‘mommy’?

Just 'cause "daddy" gives me the ick

~ Receive aftercare from San or give aftercare to Wooyoung?

I am very spoiled :)

~ Skype sex with Hongjoong or phone sex with Yeosang?

who the fuck uses skype? but also I don't think I can do it without the visual, I'd just get bored

~ One night stand with Mingi or friends with benefits with Wooyoung?

Friends with benefits are such a great thing, and I think Wooyoung is someone perfect to do it, like I think he'd be able to fuck and then cuddle w someone without catching feelings

~ Studio sex with Hongjoong or practice room sex with Yunho?

Studio sex just feels more comfortable honestly

~ Receive nudes from Seonghwa or a sexy video from San?

VIDEOS >>>>>> VIDEOS WITH SOUND >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

~ Cowgirl position with Jongho or doggystyle position with Ye osang?

cowgirl is so much work honestly

~ Hot tub sex with Mingi or shower sex with Yunho?

they both seem awful cause the bath water eventually gets cold, also baths are disgusting, you're just bathing in a soup of your own sweat and dirt why would you want that???

also with shower sex you'll just be cold whenever the hot water isn't hitting you, so unless you're gonna fix the shower head to face you every time you move, or unless you stay put then it's gonna be awful

~ Give oral to Yeosang or receive oral from San?

I just love giving blowjobs

~ Seonghwa cum in your mouth or Wooyoung cum on your face?

It looks so pretty :((( <3

~ Jongho cum on your thighs or Hongjoong cum on your stomach?

Scoop scoop and taste

~ Car sex with San or sex under the stars with Yeosang?

car sex is so uncomfortable, but one time when I fucked under the stars we just kinda laid on the grass afterwards looking at the sky, it was kinda poetic

~ Take Mingi’s virginity or Yunho take yours?

I don't LOVE being the dom and I feel like whoever is taking the virginity should take control

~ Library sex with Wooyoung or movie theater handjob with Yeosang?

if I was studying in the library and saw someone fucking I'd be pretty fucking pissed lmao

~ Lazy morning sex with Yunho or late-night sex with Jongho?

Late-night sex is so much better, Im constantly groggy in the morning and Im not a nice person when I wake up lol

~ Wear a collar for Seonghwa or San wear a collar for you?

I love collars <3

~ Rough sex with Hongjoong or romantic sex with Jongho?

Oof this was a rough one, I just feel like if I was in love it would be very intense (feelings wise) so romantic one

~ Receive anal from Seonghwa or give anal to Mingi?

I like anal and I hate the thought of pegging someone so this one is a given.

~ Suck on Yunho’s fingers or San suck on your fingers?

Obviously

~ Wall sex with Jongho or mirror sex with Wooyoung?

I don't wanna look at myself lmao it would be awkward

~ Hongjoong finger you or give Yeosang a handjob?

control over men >>>>>>

~ Overstimulate Mingi or be overstimulated by Wooyoung?

I think it's overrated tbh

~ Woosan threesome or Seongjoong threesome?

I think seonghwa would feel a littl awkward "sharing" and I think hongjoong would feel a little awkward being with another member in an intimate scenario like that so I don't think it would work

whereas not only do I think woosan are open to it, they also wouldn't mind if the other was present

template: @whatudowhennooneseesyou

[practicingbushiho]

FFXIV DISCOURSE (CSA ment, sorry)

So, when I first noticed this fandom's bizarre sexualization of Yotsuyu, I tried to ignore it. It was just people being silly, and 'step on me' jokes were cringe, but I didn't make any noise about it because I just concluded that they were responding for japes. I need to talk about the way this fandom interacts with Yotsuyu as a character. And this will be the one post I allow myself to do so.

Recently, a blog was made to poll the 'fuckable' status of characters in the FF series; and it got to the point where Yotsuyu became a candidate. I, and maybe two others that I could see, were pretty unkosher with that; because Yotsuyu in the context of her canon was a tragic woman who was killed after a life of abuse and sex trafficking; and that happens to people IRL literally every day.

I was willing to accept that they would maybe just ignore people's remarks about that-- because at the end of it, most fandom wants to forget about narrative contexts so that they can have fun and not have to examine any behaviors that might make them feel guilty or uncomfortable. I'd have been alright with just being ignored completely.

I made the mistake of thinking that perhaps if they were called on it by more than just myself, that there would be some genuine reflection and thought discourse about the complexities of how being forced into sex work really damages your psyche and the way you interact with sex and sexuality. As someone who was put to survival-based sex work for a couple of years, I'd have been willing to weigh in with a legitimate conversation in good faith, if I felt I would be received with any seriousness.

But instead, they doubled down and insisted that whatever trauma they may or may not have endured themselves could be compared to being a victim of sex trafficking that eventually ended in actual murder, and in doing so missed the point in its entirety. I personally can't accept that.

So, I unfollowed the blog, and I gotta be real; if you agree with the sentiment that it's okay to flippantly sexualize Yotsuyu as a character simply because she is a fictional character that MAY have in another existence reclaimed her sexual agency in a way that wasn't horrifically self-destructive...block me. I'm so serious.

This is going to be the last I speak on her as a character publicly within fandom spaces. I need people to understand that having an abusive relationship, or being assaulted in childhood is awful; but it does not make you qualified to play armchair psychologist about people who have endured decades of sex trafficking, an industry in which so few escape alive.

Further, weaponizing your personal trauma as an explanation to absolve yourself of the guilt of sexualizing a character that in their OWN canon would revile you for doing so by saying it is people trying to punish "thought crimes" is integrally lazy and doesn't at all examine the criticism being made.

Nobody said that former abuse victims don't seek or desire acceptance. Nobody said that former abuse victims don't heal and eventually enjoy being sexualized. I for one am both of those things, and I am happily horny and unhinged in spite of a childhood of abuse and CSA.

It is more that it is a character assassination to blindly sexualize a character that would not want to be objectified. And in her canon, she never reaches a point where we can even hope to conceptualize that journey of self-acceptance within her. And because they are fictional, you think those feelings exist in a vacuum; but they do not.

If you are honestly using Yotsuyu to understand the abuse you endured in your personal life; I think that is a good thing. I think that privately or in small groups, character dialogues like hers are actually incredibly important to consider on an intimate level!

I do not think it is a good thing to put her in a fuckability poll for the fun of it. And those two things are not comparable to me at all. I'm not going to waste my time trying to get what I view as inexperienced children to understand the difference. What they are doing is what I see to be bad faith acting, and I'm not going to bite directly; but I did want to say how I felt about the decision personally, because what happened to her is something I have witnessed, and in many cases experienced when I was young.

And I would not want my sexual agency to be viewed through the lens of someone else's self-actualization for a fucking joke poll. The fucking end.

[liecanthropy]

Fucking kill yourself!!!! REAL therians don't fakeclaim fuckers for no damn reason

r/systemscringe my ass. The real cringe one here is YOU !!!!!!

I'm aware this "isn't good anon hate," I'm not trying to genuinely make you upset I just wanted to poke fun at an idiot in their askbox cuz why not

Have fun being an asshole!!!

don't worry about "good anon hate", i totally get where you're coming from, although suicide bait is always in poor taste.

that aside, i am very much aware of how controversial my blog is to a broad spectrum of people here on tumblr (and the general internet), especially the alterhuman, therian, and otherkin communities because of their heavy overlap with all kinds of system communities (unfortunately). this is the exact reason why i put "proud r/systemscringe member" in my bio, as well as the pinned warning on my actual blog, so that people are aware of who they're interacting with, to prevent unnecessary harm or hurt feelings, and to make it easy to block me without even seeing my full blog first.

this is also the reason why i go out of my way not to tag my posts with any communities and urge people to block me. i truly do value people's right to have safe spaces online and not get flooded with hate or criticism, especially in spaces as vulnerable as the ones i mentioned before. hence, lack of tags.

while i am not a therian myself (it doesn't say that anywhere, but thanks for assuming?), i would like to clarify that other than the alterhuman community (which directly includes "plurality" in its umbrella, although i can't say DID/OSDD-1 is anything remotely close to "plurality"), i don't see any issue with someone who identifies as therian, otherkin, otherhearted, etc. having my beliefs or engaging in the spaces i'm in. i'm anti-bigotry of all kinds, i'm fully supportive (and a member) of the LGBTQ+ community, and i'm an advocate for safe and research-backed mental health awareness and support, all things i'd assume these spaces to be equally on board with.

the literal only reason people would not want me in those communities (that inherently should have nothing to do with DID, by the way) is because i take issue with people spreading misinformation online, and risking their actual mental health and safety by feeding into their own and others' delusions. however, i fully respect these stances, and don't join any servers, forums, or communities that blindly follow misinformation about complex dissociative disorders. it would be morally wrong for me to do that, and i really don't feel comfortable around people who believe that misinformation in the first place.

i can guarantee that if you are a therian, otherkin, alterhuman, etc. etc. who whole-heartedly supports the things that i'm against, you are 100% safe from me and likely will not ever meet me, because i'm the one avoiding you.

plus, if you really think people are fakeclaiming for no reason (we aren't), just make your shit private. like, genuinely private. don't let people you've only known for 3 days into your "private" discord servers, for fucks sake.

[theuniverseawakens347]

Hard pill to swallow… Zoe grownish diaries…

Ya learning new culture thru REAL RICH HISTORY… okay… keep what ya like and KNOW.. study what makes you uncomfortable…

Like Russia being Africa .. ya hate white ppl… no YOU HATE YOU LET SOMEONE LITTLE MAN YOU INTO SOMETHING YOU DIDNT FEEL GOOD RIGHT THINK WAS RIGHT… its not about race,

Its intentions …

Is IT WAS ABOUT RACE I WOULDNT HAVE WANTED RACES OF THE CULTURE TO BE MADE AND SHARED… its just lee got a little too heavy handed in wanting to BE IN CONTROL …

Ya feel powerless when ya take someone’s creation and make it “better”

WRITERS PRODUCERS .. how many of Yal work together come in w two ideas .. ya both feel good on ya own then together ya leave feeling like “damn I got short change so ima go do this over there w them to feel big again”.. GLOBAL HISTORY… COLONIALISM ALL OVER ..

Goes back to post … why I let Lee “kill me”

YA NEEDED A REASON TO LEARN YA TRUE SELF AGAIN .. A A REASON TO BELIEVE IN GOD FOR THE FIRST TIMERS

Some of you celebrities getting past life memories back.. TEYANNA and Jess hilarious YA THE SAME PERSON ONE NEW TO EATHER JESS THE OTHER BEEN HERE BEFORE AND CONTINUE THE SAME DUMB SHIT .. Lee. Clive.

GODS MAGIC MADE YA COME OUT TUNNEL OF LIFE : VAGINA .. space .. all symbolic dance of life .. YA ALREADY IN SUPPORT GROUPS .. cause YA BUTAINED GODS BRAIN… LESSON DONT DO THAT DUMB SHIT AGAIN… duh. Tf.

Then ya trickle what celebrities know about gods n past life into the “regular” population but dilute it sooo bad around the globe but those who are MY CREATIONS AT FULL but washed out by propaganda YA KNOW WHATS GOOD.

Ya read the Bible and use the word of god to manipulate UR SATANS CHILD YOU GO FOR GOOD. AWAYSESS ..

— Elmo shrug—-

SOME DONT DESERVE MULTIPLE CHANCES.. Jess ya baby nephlim.. w teyana genes YA DID FOR GRIMY MEANS .. 2 nd chance live til old to watch grow LALA MILAN TOO BUT NO MORE AFTER THAT ANTONY AT TAMBIEN..

JESSIE ORTIZ… ya talk show toxic ya syphon off energy and only want men around.. ya wan talk w me. No.

I SMELL FORGERY MILES AWAY UR PUNISHMENT FITS YA CRIMES. CRY BOOHOO ITS OKAY .. it sucks knowing “god don’t want you”.. but like IM A REPRESENTATION OF YOU CAUSE YOU A BULLY AND NEED BE SHUT DOWN.. also BUTAINED MY BRAIN LEE .. NOW MORTAL TALK BACK REAL BIG WVEN THO IM GOD… YA MYSCLE RELAX ME SO YOU CUD TAKE THESE PPL TO MY NEXT KINGDOM AND FUCKAROUND.. AND KEEP CONFUSING ME AND DARNIECE… THATS HOW WE GOT HERE … NO MORE.

PERGATORY ALL DIMENSION OF YOU AND I TOGETHER AND IM KILLING ALL OF YOU .. SOME LIVE TIL OLD AGE BUT YA NOT COMING BACK. I GAVE TOOOOOO MANY CHANCES AND YA STILL NO LEARN. IM DONE.

“But it’s not fair I didn’t know”… so ya get old age UNLESS YA DID SOME MURDERING AS SHIT FOR MONEY AND GAINS THEN DEATH IMMEDIATELY.. BUT IF YA GOT MENTALNISSUES NEVER DELT W I GIVE YA HEALING AND OEACE BEFORE YA GO …

It is what it is. ME LEARN TOO I DONT NEED TO PROVE MYSELF ANYMORE .. ya BUTAINED me Lee so I wouldn’t believe IM GOD .. I even put on my blog on when 613 appeared after my body building competition “that’s blasphemy “ nipsey as Tristen telecommunicate me w granny FLORANCE NO ITS NOT ITS MY TRUTH YA DUMB CUNT.

IM TAPPING IN W PPL WHO AINT SEEN ME SINCE I WAS 3-6 N THEY AINT SAY A LICK OVER MEDIA TO ME AND RANDOM PPL IM GIVING ME THINGS THEY NEED TO HEAR OR WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT AND WERE NOT SPEAKING A WORD.. THATS CAUSE FOR CONCERN ITS THE END OF THE WORLD.. LET IT HAPPEN STOP FIGHTING YA NEED THE HEALING …

Wouldn’t have been THIS UNCOMFORTABLE HAD YA TAKEN MY PRIVATE FACE TO FACE TALKS IN DECEMBER 2023 and TURNED ME OVER TO MY DAD THE ROCK AND SNOOP 2021 BEFORE PAYCHWARD YA LOSER BITCH.

YES GOD CUSS TF.

[limeade-l3sbian]

Your blog has been a safe place for me. I’m really grateful to you. I feel ashamed that I’m not a gold star lesbian. I tried so hard to be with guys back in high school and make it work. And people were shocked when I came out because I was “boy crazy”. It always felt so wrong and something profoundly missing. Not only that but negative experiences with males, wether I was with them or not. So I thought, maybe I just don’t like boys because they are mean and I haven’t found the right one yet. But it never worked. I thought, surely I must be attracted to boys because I like gay fanfiction. I must be bi right? Because cartoon anime boys are just like real men of course. And being from the rural south, homosexuality would get you hated at worst and at best you’d be made fun of. It kills me that I feel like I wasted my time. Accepting myself for who I am, and what I really am truly attracted to, is scary as hell. But I tried to imagine myself married to a man and it just made me want to throw up. But being with a woman seemed so much more natural and right. I’m out and grateful to be here. I feel so much less alone and free. I feel ashamed that I ever fell into comphet (I think is what it’s called)? Not sure how to get past it :( I wish I could go back in time to young me and tell her it’s ok to be gay. But thank you for your blog. I check it every day and it always cheers me up. Also Tiana is the best.

Firstly, I am incredibly grateful and glad that my blog makes you feel safe. <3 Thank you for the love.

But in relation to your shame about not being a “gold star lesbian”, I think there are some things worth keeping in mind. Specifically in relation to my personal blog, since I have had public and private asks who’ve expressed a certain envy that I am so open about who I am in comparison to how long it took them. And it is this: I grew up in California – arguably the most liberal state in the United States. I also grew up around a family that was more concerned with my grades than my sexual orientation (when I came out to my mom, she literally said, “You’re still going to college, right?”). I was allowed to be a tomboy growing up not just with permission from my family but from the culture of my state that really just didn’t care.

In any sort of “controversial” opinion I make about personal choice, I always do my best to preface this with these facts. Because where you grow up and what culture has done its best to mold you into its intended/ideal shape. I reblogged a post from @lesbienyu where she talked about how a lot of progressive areas in the U.S. have this illusion that hyper-religiousness only exists in southern boondocks (people seem to generally tie it strictly to the south). And there is this part:

(The whole post is very insightful, and I encourage people to go read it.)

I do my best to reblog and really read perspectives from other women that I can't relate with because it might resonate more with a follower of mine and just gives me more rounded place to come from when I talk about things. And this is one of those things. I can't relate to this. I have never faced judgement based on my chosen religion or lack thereof.

So why am I saying all this? Why am I linking other posts and talking at length about all this? Because you and I come from very different worlds, anon. You come from the rural South and I'm suburban-ish/city-ish Californian. We were never going to have the same story of finding ourselves and that's okay! You existed in a space where who you were conflicted with your safety and your quality of life. I existed in one where it wasn't hated or celebrated - it just didn't matter.

I only hate that you had to traumatize yourself through no choice of your own. You are not shameful for succumbing to a system that came before you and will unfortunately outlive you. I want you to enjoy being out and enjoy coming here and seeing lesbian pride without shaming the little version of yourself that was just trying to survive as best she could. She'll be glad what she grew up into . <3

[weemssapphic]

Yes to all of this…

Gwendoline is a real person with real feelings and a whole ass normal life that we as fans are not and should not be privy to. For the love of god. By all means, have your little fantasies, no one is policing thoughts you have about your celebrity favs. But there’s a huge difference between things that go on in the privacy of your own head and things you post online, PUBLICLY, for everyone (and potentially said celebrity) to see. Posting NSFW fics and art about characters is one thing - it’s a practice that’s as old as the internet and they’re characters, they’re not real. But posting what are sometimes extremely graphic and explicit fics / descriptions about what you want Gwen to do to you, etc is disgusting - what if she saw that and felt uncomfortable or violated?

Not to mention the extreme fixation some people have on her body like !! stop sexualizing the fuck out of her (and any real person). Yes we all have eyes, no that doesn’t mean you need to write in extreme vulgar detail about her body (or share nudes that she has publicly expressed she wouldn’t redo again today (let alone in a space where she can see them/tagging her?? yes they’re public but I sure as hell still wouldn’t want to see my own nudes on some random person’s instagram story or have to sign them at a con, tf…)). In general can we stop scrutinizing every single part of her body as if that’s all she has to offer?

Also to the point about Giles - have you seen them together? They really seem to make each other happy and he seems to be a very grounded, kind individual. It’s not up to us to speculate about their relationship, as that is and should remain private to them, and it’s disrespectful to both of them to be rude and hate on Giles. Gwen isn’t going to leave him for a random fan, particularly not one who continually disrespects her and him. So grow tf up.

For me, I luckily either seem to follow the right people on here (or more than likely I just haven’t been active lately), because I haven’t seen much hate *recently*. But it is NEVER okay to send hate, tell someone to kill themselves, threaten to doxx someone, etc. I’ve gotten those threats, people have threatened to doxx me, I have friends who have been extremely emotionally affected by some hate within the fandom and I myself have had to emotionally distance myself in the last months. And I’m a full grown adult (much to my own dismay). I can only imagine how much harder that is as a minor being attacked by adults. Fandom should be fun - being told to kill yourself isn’t very fun is it?

I’ve met amazing people in this fandom and it has helped me through some tough spots in the last year. Loving Gwen has been and will continue to be overall one of the best experiences of my life for a multitude of reasons. But the way some people treat Gwen as well as others in the fandom is vile. Think before you post and treat others the way you would like to be treated.

making an important announcement about some things i’ve noticed in the gwendoline christie fandom that really bug me.

disclaimer: read this at your own convenience and discretion. i am not responsible for any sort of hurt feelings and frankly… i don’t care. if you’re mad about this, you are probably the problem. /lh

to start with id like to begin on a positive note so that i’m not diving into negativity, i don’t want to be completely negative about my experiences because i’ve actually met some of the kindest people in the world through this fan base.

the gwen fandom, the gwandom, the gwendoline christie fandom , the lesbian cesspool, has been an incredible experience that i’m grateful i’ve had the pleasure of being apart of.

i went through a rough patch during november, and if i hadn’t found out about gwen, or met such wonderful people during my time here , i honestly wouldn’t be here right now. i owe my life to these people, gwen included. i will forever adore miss christie and what she stands for alongside the friends i’ve made along the way.

and while i know someday this hyperfix will end, it’s really disheartening to me when a fandom is what makes me grow distant from things i enjoy. it happened before, i feel as though it is happening all over again.

and no, i’m not taking issue with anything like the catrissa stuff or the brienne and larissa ship going around or anything like that. i like that we can all be weird together and enjoy aus like catrissa and crackships like bririssa (not sure the official name that was decided lol). my issue is the amount of content i’ve seen that either focuses on gwen herself, or the strange relationship with minors, or the odd artwork of gwen, and the absolute disgusting behaviour towards giles.

gwen would be absolutely appalled seeing fanfictions of herself that involve nsfw or just her in general, anyone would, it’s disgusting to make works of real people in that setting. it’s like you’re treating them as an original character you can mould and manipulate as you see fit and using someone who is real with thought and feeling and consciousness for smut fics is not okay, or any fic in general. i totally get the hype around her characters, i literally have “brienne’s princess” in my bio and i’ve had “jane murdstone’s bloodbag” (in reference to my vamp au) as a name in a discord server.

but i think the fandom has begun to blur the lines between fictional characters and reality settings when it comes to gwen and the personalities she portrays on the television screen. it’s not fair to her. it’s disgusting. i’ve seen a minor do it, i’ve seen a grown adult do it. it’s something i don’t see shamed and frowned upon often enough and it’s really not okay.

on that note i’d like to quickly mention the photos, we alllll know what photos i’m talking about. the bunny one, the nudes, the ones gwen has expressed regret towards and wishes to not have them spread. was there not a “fan” who brought her a book of her nudes and wanted her to sign it? that person who was blocked on instagram by gwen because they reposted her nudes on their story and tagged her???? how can you refer to yourself as a fan after behaving so abhorrently? absolutely disgusting behaviour. as a collective fandom we need to stop touching those photos (metaphorically speaking) and leave them in the past.

i’ve been told of numerous circumstances in which adults have shown their nsfw works to minors in this fandom and it has to fucking stop. it’s disgusting!! how can you do that knowingly? i constantly ponder terminating my account after a minor got ahold of my nsfw work, and upon realising they WERE a minor it was as simple as blocking and moving on. it’s truly not that hard, folks. and the minors on tiktok who fight with others saying silly things like “that’s my wife” or worse. i’ve seen it all, i feel like, and the more i see it the more sick i become. i cannot stand it.

i have seen and heard of fans who have fat shamed gwen for that one pink dress she wore to the met gala. she looked so happy in that dress, and the audacity one must have to fatshame that poor woman on twitter then turn around and continue to proclaim your ‘love for her’ as if you’d done no wrong? are you fucking serious? are you mental?

and the sexualisation over the porcelain doll look, gods some of you are sick. those were not real breasts, people. considering the fact she wholeheartedly regrets her nude photoshoots , what possesses you to believe she would actually flaunt her chest in that outfit?

the blatant mistreatment of poor giles is not fucking okay either. just because you’re jealous of someone who makes her immensely happy does not give you the right to post something so vile and cruel about him. shame on you. why do you believe this is okay to post:

????????

are you serious? have any of you stopped to consider how HAPPY giles makes her? or is her happiness the last thing you ponder when you look at her? have you even noticed how unhappy she looks lately? have you truly paused to consider how she would feel about seeing this on your page, random twitter user, or the rest of you who think this is okay? bless your hearts.

and some of the absolutely horrific things i’ve seen about her online and the hurtful behaviour towards giles makes me question the difference between a fan and just the general paparazzi. because if you truly loved her and you truly loved giles then i would not be ranting into the fucking void about it for no reason.

i avoid interacting with pages i find problematic on here to keep from stirring the pot but tonight i chose violence and got reeeeeal pissy about how i felt about this place. it’s not okay what i see on here and it’s getting exhausting seeing the same cycle of content on a daily.

that’s everything i have to say, i think. i probably missed a lot that should be discussed in the comments but i’m done for now because i know if i go on i’ll probably cry.

before you post things about real people with real feelings , stop to consider how they will feel those real feelings towards the content you put out. chances are you’ll become less problematic and obnoxious that way. 💘

[one-rosy-sock]

Coming Undone | Abner Krill x fem!Reader (1/2)

Go to the {Ao3 Link} for more info...

Fandom: The Suicide Squad (2021) Rating: T (M for future chapter) Summery: You’re a psychiatrist. You should know the warning signs when a relationship with a patient is becoming problematic. But you refuse to consider this, because Abner Krill is a lot of things, and violent is not one of them. Warnings: PTSD, childhood abuse, trauma, brief mention of past suicide attempt. 

Notes: no use of y/n Disclaimer: Author is NOT a real therapist. I do not own DC comics. __ The first time you met Abner Krill, he was recommended to you by a colleague at Belle Reve.

It had been several weeks since the convicted metahumans defeated Starro, that giant one-eyed starfish. Sometimes it amazes you to no end what strange things exist in this world. The Corto Maltese coup and monster defeat held onto headlines for several weeks until the next big thing came to top it. Seeing such exciting news affect your patients wasn’t unusual, but to have a high profile patient be a part of such news was a first, you’ll admit.

As for you, well, things were pretty much the same. You see your patients during the week at your office. You’re a licensed psychiatrist, and oftentimes you see men and women who have been convicted of a felony or are ex-prisoners themselves. It wasn’t a dream job for many women, much less anyone, to counsel people so troubled. You aren’t like everyone else, though. No, you might not have x-ray vision or super strength, or any super fancy gear to punch bad guys, but you do have a gift not many have: A good ear and an open heart.

And a prescription notepad, but you are determined to make your sessions more than just a pill dispensary.

You are aware of who Abner Krill is. The Polka-Dot Man. One of the metahumans who went to Corto Maltese and defeated Starro. This has partially immortalized him in the media as a superhero, despite his past as a prisoner. Some of your patients were metahumans too, but none as powerful or as widely known as the Polka-Dot Man. His identity and those of his teammates had been concealed from the general public. As of last week, you know his real name.

His appointment’s in the morning on a Tuesday. Your secretary came by as you were straightening up your office to let you know he had arrived. You fluff the couch pillows, throw blanket over the back, tissue box on the side table, a mild scent infuser on your desk. The century-old computer at your desk whirls to cool itself off. Earlier you'd taken the time to shoot an email to Ms. Waller confirming Mr. Krill's appointment.

You follow your secretary up front. She goes to her desk and you step into the waiting room.

Though foolish, you half expected to see Abner in his super suit. The polka dot suit and headgear. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of khaki trousers that hugged high over his hips, and a somewhat flashy, silk button-up tucked neatly into the waist. And, dare you say, a fanny pack. His outfit looked straight out of the 70s or 80s. You don’t know the definitive difference between the decades. But his shirt looks clean and pressed, the collar tucked down nicely. He has one leg over a knee, bouncing it rhythmically as he watches the fish swim around the tank in the wall. It looks like he tried to read a magazine, but stopped halfway, finger wedged between the pages.

“Mr. Krill?”

He jerked in response to his name, swinging his head up with a guilty look gleaming in his eyes. You think of a puppy who’s been caught peeing on the carpet. His expression, or perhaps the way his face was structured, reminded you of a puppy too. His face was somewhat sallow, somewhat droopy. Lines indicate a lot of frowning. Like a sad, droopy cartoon dog. His face narrowed down from his eyes, making his red cupid’s bow mouth seem small. A strong, straight nose dominates his face. His big eyes seem dark and questioning. Like a scared, lost child.

Krill quickly shoots up like a bean sprout, shaking his hands out. The magazine drops to the floor. He swears, bends down to pick it up, and anxiously fusses over righting it on the coffee table. You watch the way the glossy purple cuffs wave as he moves about in jerky, quick moves.

“Good morning, doctor,” he greets warily, avoiding your gaze and staring at your shoes.

“You must be Abner,” you smile. You reach out your hand. In a painful, pregnant pause he visibly wavers as he stares at your hand as if you’d stuck out a gun at him. Finally, he reaches out to take your hand.

He has a strong grip. Sweaty hands.

Hastily, he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we head on back?”

He nods. His legs are long yet his steps uncertain, reminding you of a gangly adolescent. He follows you down the hall from the waiting room and awkwardly stands by as you open the door to your private office. You hear him pat his thighs as he waits. Like a shadow, he follows and sticks close but careful not to touch. Barely making a sound.

After your office door clicks shut, the two of you sit in your respective places. Your desk chair has a high back, cloaked in a fraying, multicolor knitted throw blanket. A bit garish against the dull beige walls and simple yet whimsical desk decorations beside you. There’s a poster that reads It’s OK to feel this way: over a circle divided by colors and sections, listing different emotions.

You pull your knees up and begin to take off your shoes.

Your patient stares in visible confusion.

“Would you like to take your shoes off?” You ask, setting your shoes aside as you straighten up in your chair. “I find it easier to relax without them.”

“Um…” he trails off, his downturned mouth pursing as he considers this. The tension rolling off him makes him stiff and hard to read. All you’re getting from him so far is how much he doesn't want to be here.

You watch him while occupying your hands with things on your desk so he doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision. From the corner of your eye, you watch him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, and he slowly reaches down to untie and slip off his oxford shoes. He sets them neatly beside his feet. Hands tucked in his lap, sock feet on the ground. Looking up at you somewhat imploringly.

“This is a safe space, Abner,” you smile at him. You have your clipboard and pen in your lap, but you make yourself relaxed and as welcoming as you can. Note-taking can be done later. Visibly, at least. Don’t want to make him think you’re already assessing him before y'all begin to talk. Can’t force him to talk.

Ex-prisoners often struggle with reforming to civilization after release. He couldn’t be forced to attend therapy here despite the outside forces that pressured him to. If he wanted to walk out, he could. Abner was so tense he seemed to be walking on eggshells. He struggled to relax his shoulders, like his limbs were too long for his body. During all this, he hadn’t met your gaze one.

“Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room, unless, for instance, you said you plan to hurt yourself or someone else.”

This gets a reaction out of him. A grimace, a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t…”

“Of course not. You’re a superhero now, right?”

He grins. It’s brief, boyish, sheepish. He’s studying the design of your clothes. You consider that progress from your feet.

“You were recommended to me by Dr. Rooney at Belle Reve,” you begin conversationally, baldly, wanting to get a feel of where he was coming from. Your colleague had said Krill was not a violent inmate, but was often verbally bullied by other prisoners. He tended to avoid crowds, thus mostly avoided. More than once he had been on suicide watch. Casually, you glance down at your clipboard. Born in Philadelphia to Augustine Krill--father unknown--and tried and convicted for first-degree murder as an adult in the city of Metropolis. He was incarcerated at Belle Reve shortly after turning eighteen. He was in his early forties now.

You look back up at Abner. He had that sad puppy dog look again, staring at nothing in particular with his neck hunched.

“Did you and Dr. Rooney get along?”

“D-Doesn’t your notes say?”

You make a face. “I want to know what you think of Rooney, not what he thinks.”

Abner didn’t answer right away. “He was okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, licking your bottom lip as you cock your head up. “Okay is better than nothing.”

“We mostly spoke about my mother.”

“Oh?”

“She experimented on me and my siblings. She wanted us to become superheroes,” he said. His voice held much more confidence than anything he’d said so far, but his expression remained unchanged. It was because he kept words void of emotion.

“I see.” Yes, you did see. You had anticipated the topic of his mother coming up if you didn’t ask him about it first in future sessions. Dr Krill was listed in his files as a scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and having six children whom lived on site with her. CPC had been called a few times, rebuffed every time by various means other than being convinced nothing was wrong. The whole thing was fishy, especially after the untimely deaths of three of Dr. Krill’s children. The whereabouts of the other Krill children were unknown. All investigations into S.T.A.R. Labs had been terminated by higher powers, even after Abner’s arrest and psychological evaluation.

Abner continues, to your surprise. “I pictured Starro as my mother.”

“You did?”

“It makes it easier, when I convince myself that my enemy is her. I don't like killing.”

You pick up your pen and tap your lip, looking down at the way he was fidgeting his feet. “Did you regret killing your mother”

Abner’s knee stopped bouncing. “No.”

“Do you regret killing the other scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs? The--”

Abner grimaced and brought his hands to his head, tugging on fistfulls of black hair. “I-I didn’t mean--I-I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer that today,” you placate with a soft tone, putting down your pen, fingers rubbing along the edge of your clipboard. After a moment of heated silence, you set your things down on the desk and stand up. This makes your patient crumble in on himself, trying to hunch low enough to shield some blow. You smile sadly where he can’t see. “Abner, do you see my poster here? With all the emotions?”

He looks back up, glancing from you to said poster. His attention is answer enough.

“Whatever you feel in this room is valid to you and to me. Not now, but in the future I’d like for you to give me short but detailed descriptions to how you feel on certain things. It's okay to say something you think is taboo or unorthodox. This room doesn't have ears or a head to judge. Do you think you can do that?”

The couch makes no sound as he moves to better see the circle chart of words. Timidly, he nods.

“Great,” you smile sadly and sit back down. “Let’s get back to that later. Today, I’d like to talk about something other than your mother.”

Abner tilts his head. You must be doing something to exceed his expectations, because now he’s looking at you and not at you. “The Corto Maltese mission?”

“No. I want to know about you. I want to talk about Abner Krill. Who are you?”

His blank stare makes your heartache a little for him.

The following silence, where all you can hear is his ragged breath, the whirl of the monitor, and the soft mist of the incense humidifier, is thick. You can cut it with the tip of your pen. The sound of his voice as he speaks is almost staggering. "I am... I am my mother's son."

“No."

He flinches.

"Your mother does not define you. What you think about your mother and how you feel about her should not determine your sense of self or your future. You liked defeating that monster, right?”

Abner nods.

“You’re a superhero because you took action, not because she moved your hand. What you say here today, and any day, should be the same. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I don’t understand…”

“I want to know the real Abner,” you smile. “Not Dr. Krill’s son.”

He still can’t make eye contact. The fidgeting starts back up. “But, what I am is because of her.”

“Not unless you choose otherwise. Starting today, you and I are going to help define Abner Krill. First, you are not your mother’s son.”

“But I am?”

“No. You are not your mother’s son. You’re Abner Krill, superhero. What does Abner Krill the superhero like to do?”

Understanding slowly started to dawn on him, visible in his eyes as he lifted his slanted brows. Recovering from trauma was no walk in the park, but the two of you had to start somewhere. Rooney over-fixated on Abner’s fixation on his mother and the abuse, and after years of obsessing over it to “fix” him, it seemed to become all Abner could think about. No one had really given him proper trauma recovery therapy, or helped to treat his PTSD. You wanted him to take the first step into self-evolution. No one could do it for him. You want him to define himself other than his mother’s son. Seeing himself as a superhero was perhaps the start of it.

“I-I don’t know,” he frowned. “I like to read…”

“That’s great!” Your enthusiasm startles him. “What sort of things do you like to read?”

“Well… Ah, I-I uh... I like the classics….”

The rest of your session with Abner was mostly casual. The safe topics you steered him to visibly made the man relax. He spoke about the fictional worlds he enjoyed immersing himself in. He liked the classics because they were “soft”. Sweet romances where the only real worries were who’s going to the ball. He didn't like tragedies or novels about war or great violence. With some coaxing, he opens up to talk about his favorite foods, animals, celebrities, songs-- You ask about his (non-virus related) talents or any hobbies he might’ve picked up at the prison or since he’s been out. Steering him away from the topic of his mother confused him in the beginning, leading you to assume he had anticipated mostly speaking about her. He’d been prepared like he might prepare to go into battle.

You know he won’t be able to just brush his mother aside; his virus was because of Dr. Krill. He blamed his 20+ years of incarceration at Belle Reve on his mother’s experimentations. He blamed himself. He hated her. He hated himself. Feared her. Feared himself. It was an inner wound that would never heal, you know this without a doubt, but you hope with time it becomes easier to manage as he takes control and independence of his new life.

“Did you ever go to school, Abner?”

The phantom smile on his face falls, but you haven’t lost him as he turns to you. Looks at your shoulder. “No. We--my siblings and I--were… homeschooled.”

“Right. Well, you at least know what homework is?”

“Yes. Of course. Am--Do you want me to--?”

With a hand gesture you hope is placating, you smile and gently cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not assigning you an essay to write or a month-long project to present. I’m not that cruel,” you chuckle. “But I am going to push you a little. Can you try that for me?”

He looks as if you’ve asked him to consider sacrificing his firstborn. Thankfully, he nods as he plucks a loose string off his knee.

“I want to see you biweekly, so schedule with Patrica upfront. Maybe this Friday or Saturday?”

“I-I can do that, yes ma’am.”

"Now, it's your choice to come back or not but it would make me really happy if you did."

His back straightens. "Yes. I'll be here."

“Beautiful, Abner. Beautiful. Sometime this week I’d like you to do something you normally wouldn't do. Go on a hike, join a gym, take a class on cooking or arts and crafts. It can be simply looking up a food recipe you’ve never tried before and making it. Tell me about your experience. If you’re around strangers, how is your relationship with them? If you see something new, how does it make you feel? This isn’t an order, Abner, just a… strong suggestion, mm? All I’m asking is for you to do something new and spontaneous. It can be at home or outside. Your choice.”

Abner licked his lips. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince him to come here at all today. Today is the first time speaking to him, but you’ve had his file for a few days now. You’re a little grateful for that. There was a lot to read. However, it took outside forces such as one Amanda Waller and fellow ex-prisoner teammates to get him to come here. You suspect someone dropped him off if he didn’t take a cab himself. He had no driver's license.

“Ah… Okay. Um, yes miss. Ma'am. Doctor! Ah--”

“You can call me by my name,” you reassure, tilting your head to him. “This is a safe space for you and I. We may be doctor and patient outside that door, but here, we can be as familiar with each other as we'd like. Like old friends.”

He turned to you with a look that sent a thunderbolt of sensation down your spine. Surprise, awe. A silent question gleamed in his puppy-dog eyes. He doesn't respond, brows raised high as he just stares at you.

You cover for his lapse. “I’ll see you in a few days. It was wonderful to finally meet you, Abner,” you say, looking at him without pretenses to hopefully show your honesty. He had an incredible gift that could help save a lot of people, and from what you've learned from recent character evaluations on him he had the makings of a fine superhero. First thing first, he needed to adjust to civilian life after years of being locked up, and years of having nothing but unresolved trauma. All the while, you hold back a rueful smile at his demeanor. You won't say it aloud of course, but he was so cute. Idly, you wonder about his sexuality- but you can ask that another day. For now you wanted him to be a little more daring to try new things and focus on something other than his mother.

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little looser this time, lingering longer, but he moves away quickly, gathers his shoes, and you see him out. His scurrying reminds you of a startled elk. Large yet quick, stumbling over his long legs. Running from you as if you held a rifle instead of a purple glitter clipboard.

It was hard to believe this man had committed mass homicide.

[featherwriterweather]

Fiesty will get burned Sweat pea/Reader (Y/N) smut warning

Its been a rough two weeks since the Southside Serpents joined Riverdale high. But we all got used to it. The Bulldogs stopped harrasing them, the Serpents laid back and Midge was finally laid to rest with her real murderer in prison.

Toni, a Serpent girl who I befrended the first day they came in school, was sitting next to me in the school lounge. We were casually talking as usual with Betty and Ronni. Soon after Cheryl joined us and we couldn’t help but gossip around the Vixens and the latest dating rumours. The bell rang and the usual gang of boys with Serpent tattoes came our way. 

Jug was talking with Archie, while Fangs and Sweet pea went for a hot cup of coffee from the machine behind me.

“When are you reptiles going to learn that you can’t be eyeing down our girls?” Reggie Mantle, in his full shine, blurted out.

“What the hell is your problem, Mantle?” Sweat Pea replied, his big body ready for a fight.

“I saw you eyeing this bimbo out” Reggie said pointing his head towards me. Sweat pea was all well familiar with my name as he usually saw me hanging all day with Toni. 

“First, do not call her anything else but her name, and second, what’s the problem if I was?” he said.

“First, this asshole Foggarty was screwing Midge, and now you think you can screw another of our own?” With this words that Reggie had spoken I had had it.

“Listen you testosterone filled dickheads, I am not a piece of meat you can fight over. Lay off Mantle, screw you and your stupid Buldog shit, he can do whatever he wants.” I heard Sweat pea chuckle so I turned to him “And you arogant jackass, don’t think we all girls fall in your feet cause you’re tall and got some looks going on. We’re not that blind!” I finished off proud of myself and the shoked looks I had brought to their faces. Everyone around us, especially the Serpents, cheered me for this comment. Fangs was uncontrollably laughing behind Sweet pea's shoulder.

“Well, we have to admit you are some Serpent lady material. No one has put Sweat pea on his place that good so far.” Toni said smirking at me from her place she took next to me.

“Nor has had the balls to talk to a Serpent like you did! Watch it!” Sweat pea shortened the distance between us so I was directly looking at his face literally breathing my air in his lips.

“For sure these balls are bigger than yours, Sweat pea!” I smartmouthed him,which earned me more Serpent cheers and toast in the air from Toni and her coffee cup.

“Wanna bet on it?!” He casually laughed and raised his eyebrow at me.

“If you want to make me laugh, go ahed!” I sad 

“Oh, you are fiesty one, aren’t you? I will make you scream under me!” he said so sure in himself.

“For help, you mean? Yeah, probably!” I laughed daring him to close the distance even more. I started to like this little competition we had on who will come up with more bitter comment.

“Alright, you two. If you’re gonna fuck, take it to somewhere private. We want to study here so let’s go!” Ronni had interviened to stop us from ripping each other after Reggie left the room with disgusted look on his eyes. But I can assure you, the other Serpents loved the show.

The rest of the day went pretty boring. The classes were boring, so were the homeworks and the project. Me and Toni were texting all the time. She was going back and forth how she still couldn’t believe I put Sweat pea to his place.

As I was walking out the doors towards the lot, I saw his sitting on his bike waiting for someone. 

“Hey,fiesty girl!” He said when he saw me nearing him.

“What the heck do you want now, Sweat pea?” I asked as I was trying to pass him by and go to my car.

“We didn’t finish our earlier conversation. I thought you had more to say about me and my balls.” he smirked with his hands crossed in front of his chest, making it look even more muscular. I had to admit I had definitely laid eyes on him, even if Reggie was exaggerating and he did not eye me out.

“I’ve got a lot more to say if you are ready to hear it. But I’ll save it to myself. I don’t wanna hurt this little Serpent bad boy impersonator’s ego.” I said lightly patting on his chest while trying to walk away.

“Not so fast! You got my interest. Wanna go for a drive?” he said holding my hand firmly, not letting me go.

“Where are you going to take me? By the river where you plan on drawning me because I got the balls to tell you to shut the fuck up? And let me remind you that I am pretty sure my balls are bigger than yours.” I snapped back trying to yank my hand form him.

“I don’t plan on killing you. That would mean I will not see your pretty face again. Who would smartmouth me then? But I do have the intention of making you scream, as I said earlier.” he laughed out as he started the engine of his bike and shoved the helmet in my hand. “Hop on!” 

I debate for a little with myself. I had interest in this ball of rage since he entered the school. As time went on and the more I hung with Toni, the more I learned that he is not that bad at all. At least I got that his honor sense was much bigger than the one any other dickhead at our age had. 

“Well, are you coming?” He asked smiling, ready to drive off.

“I better be coming or you are going to be sorry for making me do this”I said as I hopped on the bike behind him.

“You never miss a change to out smart my words” He roared the machine “I have the full intention of making you come, at least a couple of times.” he added, underlining the word “come” with his tone as we drove off. 

The ride was joyful but pretty soon I found myself in fron of his trailer. He stopped the engine and I got off. I gave him back the helmet. He set it down and got off the bike himself. Then we walked to the front door in complete and utter silence. He unlocked the door painfully slow to me and let me go inside first. I took a look around and turned only to find him towering me with his tall figure. I didn’t say a word nor did he. By that time we had said it all. We got the idea of what we both wanted to do with the other and so did our peers, as it seemed.

I slowly walked a few steps closer to him and I pushed his Serpent jacked off his broad shoulders. He smirked and took off his grey tee over his head revealing to me his muscular chest. I looked him from head to toe and touched his chest with my hand slowly. It made him not move an inch. I bit my lower lip and looked him straight in the eye. “Are you going to kiss me or you are going to stay here half naked the entire time?” I sad pushing myself into him.

“Not another invitation is needed, fiesty.” he answered as he closed the distance between us. His lips met mine and it all went blank. Clothes were flying everywhere around his kitchen. He reached slowly for under my bum and lifted me up to put me on the countertop. The cold tiles met my naked thighs. His lips were trailing kisses down my neck making me gasp for air with each kiss.

“Aren’t you a little too dressed for this, boy?” I asked undoing his belt and then his jeans. He didn’t respond. He was too busy taking off my underwear, letting it join the pile of clothes next to the table. He pushed down his jeans and his big and rock hard dick was exposed in front of me.

“What are you gonna say now, ha? Last chance to back out or else you will scream my name by the end of it.” he said all the while touching my already wet folds.

“I am not scared of you, Pea. Show me what you got. Prove me I was wrong.” I dared him.

Slowly he closed all space between us as he entered me in one move. How good it felt! His hands held my thighs and he started pulling out and pushing back inside making me whimp and moan loudly in his ear while he was kissing my neck. His breaths were deep and quick. His mouth eventually found its way to my breast, sucking and kissing on the skin. It made me throw my head back in pleasure. 

Again in one easy motion, he picked me up again and moved me to the table. My legs wrapped around his torso to bring him even closer, if that was any possible. His trusts were getting quicker by the minute, making me slowly loose control. His lips found its way back mine and started playing dangerous game of biting and sucking.

“Girls who play with fire get their fingers burned” he wispered in my ear as he continued to pound in and out with deep trusts inside me.

“What make you think I don’t like to play with fire,ha? Maybe I will burn you more than you will burn me!” I said.

He pulled out of me and took my hand to pull me up in front of him. After that he turned me around and gently pushed me forward so I rested my palms on the surface of the table. He entered me from his position behind me and resumed fucking me hard one more time. 

“You’re dripping wet, you know that? It drives me fucking crazy how wet I made you. I bet you can feel how big my balls are now. Do you have anything to say?” he hissed in my neck.

“Yes, I have. Shut up and make me feel those balls! I wanna be wet just by thinking of you and it’s not going to happen if you continue to talk.” I told him bending over a little bit more to grant him more access to me.

My moans were becoming uncontrollable by the second and so were his. I was already shaking under him as he grabbed me by the hair, gently pulling on it. 

“Are you close, my fiesty girl? I can feel you getting tighter. Cum for me. I want to feel you. Scream for me as you let go. I want to hear you.” I obeyed him. I nodded my head and leaned back into him giving in completely to the sensation of my hard orgasm rocking my body. My muscles trembled and I pressed myself further into him as his name slipped off my lips. I felt him smile at the crook of my neck as he let out deep throated moan and let himself cum as well. 

We were sweating and still trembling from the sex we just had. But he didn’t miss the chance to remind me what I had said. 

“So, fiesty! What do you have to say now? I didn’t hear you scream for help. I heard you screaming for me not to stop and my name, as well. I guess I was right.” he said as he leaned back at the counter after he had put his boxers on. 

We both knew it wasn’t going to be just a hook up fight. It all went on from there with me puting him in his place after which I was always shown what I can get if I ask politely. But to ask politely for a booty call from Sweet pea is never as fun. 

I went right up to him after I put on my panties as well and pressed my body into his. “Shut the fuck up! Do you ever stop being so cocky? Bite your tongue and kiss me.” I ordered as I pulled his head down to meet my lips. He snaked his hand around my waist pulling me closer to him and giving in the kiss. 

When I went into his bathroom to refresh myself after our little fiasko, I looked into the mirror and saw two big black purple hickeys on my neck. He made sure it would be visible for everyone the next day that he had proven me wrong and I learned my lesson. Oh, boy! He was in trouble and so was I.

[bigfan-fanfic]

“What the FU-” (Spiderbro!Reader)

Requested by Anonymous for Spiderbro! Reader chewing out Tony after learning Peter is Spidey

Peter has never seen you this mad.

Sure, maybe you’re only cousins, but this is the fury of a protective older brother who would literally kill for his little sibling.

“It’s not so bad-”

You poke Peter’s side and he winces in pain.

“Not so bad?” you repeat, before standing up again. “Peter, you’re bruised seven different ways to Sunday and you’ve got a black eye! How the hell is that supposed to be okay?”

“Mr. Stark said-”

You growl. “Mr. Stark should know better than to take a kid to a superhero pissing contest!”

“But he-”

“No. Stop defending him, Peter. You know what? Call him.”

But it’s Happy Hogan who answers, and that makes you MAD.

This man brought your 15-year-old little cousin into a superhero fight where he was injured and doesn’t even have the courtesy to be around for him afterward?

So you snarl at Happy and you start hacking.

Peter isn’t the only one with scientific and technological skill. You’re hacking into the suit mainframe, using the very same “Baby Monitor” protocol installed to spy on Peter.

Of course, THAT gets Stark’s attention.

You make sure he comes when Peter’s out at school - you’ve tried your best to forbid him from going superheroing but he just won’t listen.

It’s bad enough that Peter lost his mom and dad, your aunt and uncle. But you’re both still mourning the loss of your dad, Peter’s Uncle Ben, and you can’t lose Peter too. You two and May are the only ones you’ve both got, and it makes you insanely angry that Stark put that in jeopardy

“You. You’re the little shit that’s been hacking my systems.”

You give Stark a mirthless smile. “Mmmhmm.”

“You turned off the Baby Monitor protocol.”

You glare at him. “I didn’t trust the grown-ass man having a constant window into Peter’s private spaces.”

Tony swipes off his glasses. “I’m sorry, who are you, again?”

“I’m Peter’s cousin. And apparently the only adult male in his life who is looking out for his well-being.”

“Excuse me?” Tony raises his eyebrow, about to snark at you, but you cut him off.

“What kind of major creep are you? You basically abduct Peter under false pretenses to drag him off to your whiny little prize fight in Germany, and you get him hurt! He’s FIFTEEN! A KID!”

“He was-”

“Did you even tell your pals you had kidnapped a kid to fight with you? Did you tell them you hadn’t even gotten permission from his guardian? Did you give a rat’s ass about him when he was getting hurt out there? Did he even know what the hell he was fighting for?”

“He’s old enough to make his own-”

You glare at him with murder in your eyes. “Did you not hear me say he’s FIFTEEN?”

“I was younger than him when I built my first engine.” Tony challenges. 

“Peter is a brilliant kid.” you say. “I’m not denying that. But he’s still a kid. An emotionally vulnerable kid who just saw his uncle die in front of him. And I bet you knew that. I bet you took advantage of that. Well, Peter’s not your property. Peter’s not your son, and he���s not your weapon or tool or one of your projects, Stark.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“You stay away from Peter from now on. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

Tony smirks. “Whatever, kid. Just because you’re too jealous of Underoos to let him-”

“Let him what? Get hurt? Fight for someone who’s only using him? Put himself into life-threatening situations before he’s old enough to drive? Yeah, I can see how not wanting that for him makes me a terrible person.”

“I don’t need to justify myself to you. Just stop hacking into my property.” Tony says dismissively, and you smile.

“Fine. Just stay away from Peter.”

He leaves, and you breathe a sigh. As things are right now, you have no real way of keeping Stark away from your little brother. But honesty is the best policy.

You open your phone and breathe a sigh before putting in a call.

A call to your mother, and Peter’s legal guardian.

May Parker.

[yesimwriting]

Falling Angels

A/n this literally poureddd from me, might be bad bc recently i’ve hated everything i’ve written (my drafts are full lol)

--

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life. 

Pairing: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x psychic! sunshine-y! reader

Warning: mentions of sexual harassment, slight cursing, near death experience 

--

Enjoy it, because it doesn’t last. That’s what the older girls whisper, mock casualness attempting to disguise bitter undertones as I walk past them. They say this, sharp nails ready to be covered in blood as red as their lipstick, because the pile of gifts from my ‘admirers’ keep coming. Circus hands keep approaching the long vanity in the dressing room tent, tapping me on the shoulder politely to shove cards and bouquets of flowers in my lap. They don’t understand that the praise isn’t because the patrons of our performances find me more beautiful--they’re desperate for my favor. They’re desperate to know their future.

Looking at myself in the mirror, the pageantry of it all has not yet grown old to me. My hair is still in the process of being styled, my stage makeup is half done, and I am not yet coated in that golden shimmer Senia always dusts across my cheeks and shoulders. But I am more enhanced than I normally am, eyes made bright by thick coats of mascara, cupid's bow made prominent by ruby lipstick. The lip look is more daring than I’ve been before, but there can’t be much harm in change. Not when half the women here keep looking at me like I’m the saint of virginity. 

It’s not my fault that the Ringmaster thought an angelic aesthetic would work best for the fortune teller who walks around before the show, reading palms so that people can have their pockets picked. It’s not my fault people want an angel to take the stage and call people down from the audience to get a detailed reading around the crowded circus tent. I don’t pick the costumes, and while I acknowledge that mine shows the least amount of skin, the Ringmaster found a way to dress me as suggestively as possible without ruining the illusion of innocence. 

At least the flowing tulle wings that are stitched into the back of my costume are beautiful. It’s easier when I enjoy the good. 

“Y/n!” The familiar call of Senia. I turn my head, beaming. “You’re a vision, and all of those jealous girls--you can tell them to take their wrinkling faces and--” 

“Seria.” For someone so much like a mother, she often needs to be reminded that not everything needs an aggressive rebuttal. “Think about it from their perspectives--their entire existence is dependent on how sellable they are, how attractive they are to men who only want to use them. If that makes them mad at me because they feel like my youth and novelty is taking from them, then that’s okay.” She raises a fine eyebrow. “I can take a few mean words.” 

Seria purses her lips. “Okay, but I’m just as old and tired and you don’t see me trying to poison you.” 

I roll my eyes. 

“Look, it's our very own saint.” I roll my eyes, Via’s shrill voice piercing through me like an annoying papercut. “And in such a scandalous lip color--has the Ringmaster finally taken you to the ivory tent?” 

Ivory tent. It’s been mentioned to me before and always in jest. “Where he takes me is none of your business, if not being the favorite hurts you so badly ju--” 

She laughs, the sound is pure vile. “Being the favorite is the worst thing you could be in a place like this. You’re shiny and new and soon you’ll be as used as the rest of us--Seria’s use is waning, what happened to her today is proof of that. Soon you’ll have no one to protect you.” 

When she looks at me I see more pain than hatred. “I think we’d get along better if I had it in me to hate you.” 

She raises an eyebrow before shaking a cigarette from a small box into her palm. “You’ll get there, princess.” 

The nickname leaves me burning. There’s nothing more consuming than fire. “You better pray to the real Saints I don’t.” 

via laughs, lifting the cigarette to her lips and lighting it with her abilities. She walks away, turning my threat into that of a child’s. 

“She’s right on two accounts.” Seria hums, “The Ringmaster will kill you if you wear that lipstick and Ketterdam turns people like you into people like me. We could save up, pay off your indenture--get you out.” 

Seria doesn’t need to make sacrifices like that. Not for me. Besides, there’s no leaving Ketterdam for me. Not anymore. “Being like you wouldn’t be a bad thing.” I scratch my arm, see through material wrinkling as a result. “And I can’t--I can’t just leave. I’m a psychic, no Grisha can see the future. I need the facelessness of Ketterdam.” Her lips thin in protest. “And don’t think I didn’t hear what she said about you--what happened to your foot, and what’s in the ivory tent? People keep saying it, whispering it like there’s--” 

“That tent is nothing that will ever concern you. I’ve given you my guidance, and the one thing I ask is that you never ask or go to the ivory tent.” 

I swallow once, the intensity in her eyes leaving me raw. “What if he tells me to?” 

“He won’t.” Seria breathes. “He doesn’t like that for you.” 

This isn’t an argument I can have now, not with two minutes until the show starts. “And your foot?” 

She shrugs, holding up a bandaged ankle. “You get older, your ligaments like the tightrope walk less and less. I’ll be fine.” 

“You’re not tightrope walking like that--” 

“Yes, I am. The Ringmaster doesn’t know and he can’t--if I start giving him performance trouble--you don’t know what happens to the girls who can’t pay off their indenture by performing.” 

I swallow once. “You’ll be careful?” 

“Always,” she grins, “Besides--one day you’ll know enough about tightrope walking to help me on days like this.” 

The last time I trained on the mini-tightrope had proven me to be a disappointment. Still, I smile at her softly. I open my mouth to respond, but a quick tap to my shoulder silences me. 

“Miss,” a circus hand I recognize begins.

I smile politely. “Please leave any gifts on my vanity--” 

“It’s not a gift,” he mumbles, voice taut, “You have visitors.” 

Something solid pushes itself into my chest, wedging itself between my lungs. Have they found me? “I-I don’t take visitors. Not before shows, if someone wants a private reading they’re to go to my tent at the front--” 

“We’re not here for readings or any of the other lies you sell.” 

...Surprising. I let my gaze move from the face of the circus hand and towards the individuals behind him. A man, tall and dressed in business attire--hat and all. His face is all sharp angles and his eyes are emotionless. His leather-gloved hands grip the head of an intricate cane. Next to him is another tall man, dressed a little more casually, with dark curls. Lastly, there’s a girl, with oil-black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. 

“Then what are you here for?” 

Seria, never one to leave me unattended around strange men, takes a step in front of me. “I know who you are, Dirtyhands, and I know there’s no business you could find with her.” 

What? Dirtyhands? Can people in Ketterdam ever just be normal? 

“I wouldn’t speak so certainly.” I don’t like the way his eyes narrow at Seria or the way his grip on the cane tightens. 

Thoughtlessly, I stick a hand between them, forcing Seria back slightly. “I apologize, she’s protective--always assuming the worst in people. Though considering she called you ‘Dirtyhands’, maybe that’s what you want.” 

Ugh. All I do is ramble when I most definitely shouldn’t. “Want what?” 

Eyebrows drawing together, I force myself to hold his gaze. “For people to assume the worst.” 

The response seems to confuse him. That’s okay--I’ll take anything over aggressive. “The only people I want to assume the worst are those I want to be right.” 

Okay. Dramatic was a fair assumption. 

“Seria.” Oh no. I know that voice. I know that voice too well. “They tell me you're injured.”

Seria stiffens, as does every performer when he addresses them. “Not too injured to perform, sir.” 

The Ringmaster sneers. “I can’t risk you falling and embarrassing me. Perhaps tonight you’ll make your money by spending the entire show in the ivory tent.” 

The way she hardens wrenches my gut. I press my hands to avoid reaching out for her. “I can do the tightrope.” The Ringmaster’s gaze shifts towards me. “I can do it--and I can do it well and I’ll give the profit to Seria.”

He tilts his chin, regarding me in a way a woman should never be regarded. He’s a predator and I’m a lamb that’s lost its way. Still, I hold his gaze. I don’t flinch, even when he moves to brush his knuckles along my cheek. His touch is acid. Pure, burning acid. “The wings I placed on your back are decorative.”

“I don’t need them.” Total bullshit. 

“Hm,” he breathes, letting the smell of alcohol fill the space between us, “I’ll allow it.��� The Ringmaster drops his hand to his side. “Wipe that lipstick off your face before someone mistakes you for one of these common whores.” 

How I don’t throw up at the sight of him is a miracle in itself. By some small mercy, he turns and walks away before I have to respond. 

“You’re an idiot--you know you’re not ready for the tightrope.” 

“There’s a net,” I try to keep my voice light, dismissive. She remains tense. “Seria, I had to.” 

“No, you could have--” 

“It’s not fair that you’re always a shield for me. When the opportunity to shield you for once comes, I’ll take it.” Turning before she can protest, I try to walk forward. The stranger places his cane where I intend to walk, intentionally warning me that he decides when our conversation is over. Unfortunately, I used up all my patience with the Ringmaster. “130 kruge.” He raises an eyebrow. “That’s the estimated amount I’ll make tonight, unless I’m late and excluded from the show. Either make up the deficit you’ll be costing me or let me go.” 

His eyebrows draw together, shifting his expression from neutrally calloused to something much darker. “Kaz.” This comes from the girl. She takes a step forward. “Look one step ahead.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Everyone thinks you’re not supposed to look down, but looking up is just as impractical.” She pauses, expression strangely mesmerized, “Look one step ahead--not at your feet.” 

My genuine smile shocks me. “Thank you.” 

“I should be thanking you, Sankta y/n.” Her head bows, hands held together as if in prayer. 

Oh. She’s one of the religious that believes me an actual Saint. “I appreciate the sentiment, but if I was a Saint I’d be able to help people.” No matter what I do, no matter how much blood I offer, I can never help people. “And as you’ve seen--I can’t.” 

--

The crowd’s roaring is a different world to me. On the platform, feet away from the other wooden structure acting as solid ground, everything is different. I am now in a world where the only thing to believe in is a taut rope. The net is beneath me. I’ve seen it--I’ve checked it. 

“And for our grand finale!” The Ringmaster calls, voice billowing over an excited crowd. “Our very own angel defies death!” 

An odd way to phrase the tightrope walk. It’s never called ‘defying death’.  I had been surprised when I was told that tonight the tightrope walk would be the grand finale--I assumed it was because it featured me. I’m always the finale now. I try to move my foot off the platform but it’s planted firmly. No. I need to see Seria--I need to see who I’m doing this for. I force my gaze to the ground, panic rising in my chest. 

Instead of Seria, I see Via--her smirk apparent even from here. Spite’s a decent motivator. My foot descends off the platform, touching the tightrope cautiously. And then I move my other foot. All of me is now on this damn rope. I hadn’t been unforgivably horrible during practice, but I hadn’t been graceful either. 

Don’t look down, don’t look up--only look one step ahead. One step ahead--one step at a time. Balance. I take another step. The room is so silent there’s no doubt in my mind the sound of my bones cracking would be heard from the back row. But there’s the net. There’s always the net. I take a second step. And then a third--eyes focused on only one step ahead. 

And then the phantom of flame comes to claim me. Fire. The world around me is burning. Damning the consequences, I let my gaze fall to the world beneath me. The net--the Ringmaster had an Inferni light the net on fire. Via--that explains the look. 

I can’t fall--the guilt would kill Seria. 

Panic twists my stomach as I continue forward. One step ahead. One step ahead--the flames lick upwards, promising pain and grief all over again. One step ahead. One step--that’s all there is to it. The warmth of the fire calls to me. Burning. Burning--and one more step. This isn’t forever. This isn’t permanent--either way this will soon be over. 

There’s no miracle for me. No good grace, no wings that would let me save myself. There is only balance. 

One step ahead. And then another step. And then I see the other wooden platform. Thank the Saints. I grip the ladder of the platform as quickly as possible. The cheers mean nothing to me as I scurry down the ladder. 

I feel a sharp breeze, a Grisha putting out the flames. Anger pools in my chest as I move towards the exit of the tent. 

“Y/n.” No. Not him again. That man--Kaz, Dirtyhands, whoever he is--needs to go away. “Y/n.” I turn sharply, anger pulsing through me. My expression must be feral, because he stalls. “They didn’t tell you that they were going to burn the net.” 

The fact that he can tell--that he can see my panic and how close I came to death twists my anger into something more fragile. “No.” My posture straightens. “I need to go now, I do--I do readings after shows.”

“Y/n.” He repeats, firmer. 

My nails dig into my palms. “I’m going--” 

“I know what you are.” 

Tensing, my breathing stalls. “What?”

[starconsumer444]

Anniversary (18+)

Kenma x Male!Reader

A/N: Turns out that hiatus isn't permanent, so I'm back with my really shitty writing! I'll start taking requests again too (but I'm going to be slow at doing them and I probably won't get to all of them lol) <3

(CW/TW: Top!Reader, Dom!Reader, Sadist!Reader, Kidnapper!Reader, The reader is literally evil personified ;P, Kidnapping, Spit, RAPE/NONCON, FORCED FEMINIZATION [Kenma gets referred to as princess and his asshole is referred to as a cunt, needless to say... he doesn't like it], Blood [it's a nosebleed], hitting, crying, a lot of bad things??? disassociation??? this is... yeah... I tried...)

“I don’t want to hurt you.” That’s what you say, but Kenma can still feel the dull ache in his nose. “You’re too beautiful to hurt, you know?” You coo, lifting his chin with your index, forcing his eyes to meet yours. They’re puffy, red, and filled with hate. You smile and Kenmas stomach is in knots. His mind is telling him to run, but there’s nowhere to go, is there?

Trying to run is the reason blood is flowing so freely from his nose, down his chin, and on to the white dress you forced him into this morning. The bow around the dress— it’s pulled too tight. He’s undone the knot three times today, but every time you come and pull it back around his waist somehow tighter than the last time every...single...fucking...time.

Tears start to well up in his eyes again and when the first one starts to fall you let him drop his head. He’ll be past all this crying soon, he just has to get used to it or you’ll beat it out of him; whichever comes first.

He curls into himself, smearing blood and tears all into the skirt of the dress that surrounds him.

Beautiful, you think.

“I hate you.” It’s small, it’s quiet, it’s weak, it’s not worthy of a response— not yet— at least. You ignore it. You’ll let him have that one.

You're merciful enough to let him cry  on the floor between your legs as you flip through channels on the couch. You’re looking for something specific, something that will really help commemorate this as your one month anniversary.

Needless to say, you find it, right on time.

He lifts up suddenly, as if controlled by strings like a puppet, wiping tears from his eyes and turning to face the tv. He hears her voice and tears won't stop falling. They can’t stop falling when he sees his distraught mother on television crying about her son who’s been missing for a month. They can’t stop falling when he sees all his fans with candles holding prayer circles and praying for his safe return. They can’t stop falling when he sees his old friend, Kuroo, holding his shattered mother in a tight hug.

None of the words from the news broadcast register. He just sees people crying and holding each other. He sees candles lit for him. He sees flyers of his missing face being handed out. Then it’s over as quickly as it started, with the reporter coming back into frame and passing it off to one of her coworkers.

He turns to you with a new type of rage boiling inside of him and surfacing on his face. He’s up on his knees, perfectly manicured hands grasping at the fabric covering your thighs, brows furrowed, and finally looking you in the eye of his own volition. It’s the first time in a while it looks like he’s really seeing you.

What is he going to do?, You wonder.

“You know better than to hit me, don’t you?”

Surely he knows what will happen, he’s tried it several times since you’ve had him and not once has it ended positively for him.

His hands are gripping the fabric of your sweats, twisting at it with a certain fury that tells you he wants to hurt you. He does this a lot— it’s as if he has to muster up the courage to carry out such a fruitless action.

His body feels like he’s in a burning house. He can’t take this mocking. He can’t take this abuse. He can’t do it anymore. You’re watching him burn and not letting him leave or even trying to put the fire out. He wants to go home. He wants to hug his mom and tell her he’s alright. He’s tired of this.

“Please, let me call her.” He talks with a tight jaw, anger seething through clenched teeth. His head falls with his tears wetting his hands and your sweatpants. “Please let me call her. I want to go home so bad. Please.”

“No.”

And that’s all it takes.

“I fucking hate you!” and before he can even think to hurt you, he’s already down. All it takes is one good slap to the face and he’s back to his senses. His hands free the fabric he was holding on to for dear life.

He knows where he’s at. He knows he can’t win.

He lays arms crossed in your lap, sobbing. His body is wracked with shivers periodically as you stroke his hair.

“Pretty girls don’t act like this, you know.”

I’m not a girl, He thinks to himself. He’s far too gone to assert himself in any way right now.

“It’s okay to hate me. I still love you even if you do hate me.”

Kenma can’t stand that softness in your voice. You’re too good at playing the good guy. Anyone who wasn’t in his position would be inclined to fall for your fake prince charming bullshit. Is that how a psychopath like you gets by? You pretend to be soft spoken and harmless then hurt people when no one else can see you.

“You’re sick.”

“I know, it’s okay.”

You let him cry like that for ten minutes. You let him curse you under his breath (where he should keep it if he doesn’t like getting hurt), you let him get it all out. He even quietly begs for his mom and you can’t help but to think about how cute he is.

You pull him up by the back of his hair. Kenmas only got more beautiful since he’s been with you; you didn’t think it was possible. With drying blood and tears everywhere he’s mesmerizing. Even with your hands locked in his hair, this feels too good to be real.

He’s not looking at you, his eyes are unfocused, it’s more like he’s looking through you. Despite that, you pull him in for a kiss, blood and tears still fresh on his face. Of course, he doesn’t kiss back, but for once he doesn’t resist. It’s a small victory.

Now there's a growing tent under the surface of your sweats.

You let him go and pat the wide space on the couch beside you, “Get up here.”

Kenma shakes his head and backs away from you.

“Please let me go.” He pushes his body further away the moment you stand to tower over him. Then he’s turning and slipping on the skirt of the dress in his panicked rush to get away from you. He knows what’s going to happen and he wants no part in it.

You lift him with ease and slam him down onto the couch. Not once does he stop fighting you. He’s yelling for help and for you to stop. He’s kicking and screaming, begging like you’re going to kill him. Doesn’t he know that no one can hear him? It’s been a month and he hasn't figured out that much? If he’s that dumb, maybe he does really need you...

Still, it’s annoying and leaves you with no choice but to wrap your hand around his small throat. He kicks you in the stomach and your only response is to squeeze harder.

The fear sets in right then and there for Kenma. He stops his flailing and looks up to you with apologetic eyes. He doesn’t want to pass out, you choked him like this when he first got here. He can’t do it again— he doesn’t want to.

His hands come up to gently hold your wrists and his eyes become more apologetic with the increased pressure.

“Are you gonna calm down or do I have to calm you down myself?”

Kenmas body goes rigid for a second, but then he realizes he has to respond. He nods. His heart feels like it might beat out of his ribcage, but he has no choice but to force himself to stay calm.

Slowly, you release your grasp on his neck and flip up his dress to reveal his clean shaven legs and white lace panties (that do little to cover his private area). Your hand strokes down the soft skin of his thigh and you can feel him tense up, “Calm down princess. You wanna make me feel good, right?”

Kenma shakes his head and recoils expecting to be hit for his honesty.

You just chuckle as he slowly realizes you’re not going to hurt him for that and settles into himself. “Cute.” You say.

“Please…” The blonde mutters out.

“Please what?”

His throat hurts and his voice is shaky, “Don’t make me do this. I can’t do this again.” It sounds like he’s about to start crying again.

It’s been a month since you did this the first time and it’s been six days since the last time.

Kenma sees that you’re lost in thought and takes it upon himself to sit up as carefully as possible so that you don’t hit him. “Let me…” He trails off slipping his soft hand under the waistbands of both your sweatpants and underwear.

His strokes are graceless. He’s shaky, unsure, and clearly has no idea how to go about this. He only feels you getting harder in his hand as he looks you in the eye’s trying to find any sign of mercy.

You smile, “You’re such a good girl, huh?”

Kenma forces himself to smile back, but his fear is more obvious. “Yeah, Imma good girl.” He nods aggressively. If it means he has any chance of getting out of this, he’ll comply without a second thought. Dignity doesn’t matter when he’s here, he’s come to understand.

He plants soft kisses up your neck and across your jaw, and still his hand never stops. He’s so precious when he’s absolutely terrified.

“Use your spit.”

Immediately he pulls his hand away from you, spits in it, and goes right back to jerking your length. He’s so bad at it, it hardly feels good.

You titter at how anxious he seems and he jumps at the sound.

“Princess…” You start, and he hums in response. “I’m still going to fuck you, you know that, right?”

His hand withdraws straight away, “Please, no.” His head rests against your chest as he pleads for mercy. “I can’t take it. I don’t like it.”

“It’s okay, you’ll learn to like it.” You feel him shake his head. “Now, lay down.” He goes without protest.

Kenma’s far away from this by now. In his head, he’s anywhere but here. Still, he feels everything happening to him and hears everything going on around him. He doesn’t miss the sensation of you sliding off those lace panties or miss your hands on his hips turning him over to lay on his stomach. He can feel your tongue gliding over his hole, but he can’t react to it. He doesn’t squirm like he usually would— just takes whatever you’re doing to him.

The first noise Kenma makes is when you slide a single spit soaked finger into him. He’ll never get used to that sensation, and it grounds him every time. You can hear him sniffle and whine just as you thought he had run out of tears or at least had given up crying for the night.

Your finger drags against the special bundle of nerves and his body convulses and he lets out a yelp, that’s when you think it’s time to put in two fingers.

Your assault on his prostate continues and he cums, but he doesn’t seem to register it all that much. His senses are clearly a bit dulled by some sort of trauma defense mechanism his brain has. It doesn’t matter to you, though. You pull your fingers out of him and lube up your length with spit before pressing into his hole.

That gets a reaction, an intense one. He’s yelling, his words are slurred, and he’s pushing back at your waist, using his hand to try to get you to get out of him. His face looks mortified, like he didn’t know this was going to happen.

You simply grab his arm and pin it behind his back. No matter how hard he fights against you, he’ll never win and will always give up.

He’s so tight, and he’s spasming around you trying to adjust.

“Ahhh- your cunt’s so perfect, just for me, huh?” You moan out.

“No! No! No!” His voice is hoarse, he’s yelling and kicking his legs. You just press your weight onto him more.

When you start to thrust, he starts to say sorry and calm down. He’s sure he did something wrong but he just doesn’t know what. He’s sure that if he apologizes this will all be over, like some horrific nightmare.

His complaints are drowned out by your moans; it's been that way every time you’ve done this.

“Fuck, baby,” You moan breathily into his ear. “You’re so tight. You were made for this.” Kenmas head falls into the wet couch cushion. “I love you so much.”

Kenma cums again, and he must feel it this time judging by the pained moan he lets out. His body jerks with the harshness of your thrusts. There’s a mixture of sounds but the most apparent are moans and the sound of skin meeting skin.

You let go of his arm opting to pull him up by his hair, when you do, he’s back to his dazed apologizing. He seems so broken, it's exhilarating. Your “I love you.” is only met with another bland “I’m sorry.” it's clear he won't remember most of this.

When you cum inside him, there’s no reaction from him. You get up, leave him limp on the couch and go take a shower. When you come back, he’s just like you left him, still breathing, but generally unresponsive. He’s a great wife.