#physical harm*

[psyonicscream]

you should hit them with a brick

Yea

[thataurifox]

On Stanley Milgram’s Social Experiments and the Application to Generation Loss

Essay Word Count: 2,222 words

(Title and Headings not included)

About the Poster

Hello! My name is Auri. The start of this essay is a brief blurb of conversational talk from me to you as the reader, largely addressing the credentials I have to begin a discussion on this topic. Which isn’t really much! It really only amounts to the fact that I have passed a singular college/university class in general psychology in which we discussed and researched this specific experiment. In no way am I a professional psychologist, and I do not expect my words to be taken at face value. If you are interested in the topic, do your own research too! I am fully willing to have conversations and debates regarding the material in this essay, especially if you have more knowledge and education on the topic than I do.

All of the information in this essay will be presented for a more rounded basic understanding of the experiment and my thoughts on whether or not the application of the experiment to the events of Generation Loss is appropriate. I will be covering an explanation of one of the simplest versions of the experiment as presented to me by my psychology professor. This will not be an extensive explanation of every variable, although it will go beyond the information that was included in MatPat’s Game Theory video about Generation Loss. Above all, please do not take my words to be the end all be all of this experiment and Generation Loss itself! These are my thoughts with the information I currently have. Doing your own research and developing your own thoughts and opinions on the subject is very important and highly encouraged.

Additionally, please do not give hate to either creator in the discussion of this topic. This essay is meant to be informative so that others may draw their own conclusions. The thoughts and feelings I express in this writing are my own, and I do not expect everyone to agree with me, and the content creators are doing nothing more than freely producing content for viewers to watch and discuss. Be respectful to everyone, including the creators and other Tumblr users who may comment or reblog. Thank you!

Warnings

Please do note that this essay will discuss events such as the Holocaust, World War II, death, perceived torture, Nazis, and concentration camps in uncensored ways. Nothing in this essay will in any way be graphic, but topics in this list may be brought up and discussed in various ways. In no way are anti-Semitic views or intentionally harming another person endorsed in this post, and endorsing either of these in discussion will not be tolerated. Please keep your own mental health in mind while reading, as this is a serious topic.

Introduction

On Sunday, May 30, 2023, MatPat released a video on the Game Theory YouTube channel regarding Ranboo’s horror series Generation Loss. This video, titled Lies of the Founder, covered the events of Generation Loss since the release of the T_1 video. This included information given in The Inauguration and Generation 1: The Social Experiments. During this video, MatPat also included the idea that the social experiment designed by Stanley Milgram could be comparable to the Social Experiments of Generation Loss. However, this should not be taken into account without considering the full scope of the experiment and its design, including ethics, historical context, and social implications.

Historical Context and Social Implications

Milgram’s social experiments occurred in the early 1960s following the end of World War II. During this time, many of the people who had working in concentration camps during the Holocaust were on trial for a myriad of crimes, including the slaughter and injury of Jewish people. This included not only scientists and leaders of the Nazis, but also people of working class backgrounds who believed in the cause. These people were asked why they would intentionally participate in mass murder, to which they responded that they were told to.

Society would largely like to believe that people have a moral compass that would keep them from performing such acts. Therefore, it was thought that these people must either make up a small portion of the population or that they were lying as to their motivations. This was the basis of Milgram’s experiments: to determine whether or not the average person would intentionally cause another harm because they had been told to by a figure of authority. The expectation was that they would not, however this would not turn out to be the case in the majority of situations.

The Experiment

Before discussing the outcome of the experiment, it is important to understand the structure of the experiment itself. It had many different iterations with the same basic design, all intended to simulate a similar experience to the people who had been running the gas chambers in a more controlled environment. There were even iterations that appealed to different demographics, including women, which did show minor variation in data. Despite this, each time the experiment was run the general outcome remained the same.

In a basic version of the experiment, an ad was placed in the newspaper that stated that volunteers could apply to take part in an experiment at Yale, which they would be financially compensated for. However, volunteers were not told the true purpose of the experiment. Volunteers were told that the experiment was a test to see how the introduction of pain impacted how well a person learned. This was similar to other experiments that had taken place to see the influences of pain versus reward in learning behaviors among animals. Upon applying, each volunteer would be given a date, time, and place that they were to go in order to partake, and told that they would be paid upon arrival.

The times and dates were set so that only one participant would arrive at a time for each experiment session, and all of the sessions were done late at night when no one else would be in the area. Even the police had been told that there would be strange and potentially disturbing noises coming from the building, and that these noises should be ignored. Volunteers would arrive to see another person sitting in the waiting room, who would introduce themselves as another volunteer. Unknown to them, this person was not another participant, but instead a paid actor who had been told how the experiment would work. The two would be left alone in the room together while waiting for someone to begin the experiment.

Eventually, a person wearing some kind of designation of power, such as a lab coat, and referred to as the experimenter, would come into the room. The experimenter would then present the volunteer and the actor with the money they had promised the volunteers, and the volunteer was told that they could leave at any time. If they wished, they could take the money at that moment and walk out the door without proceeding further into the experiment. If they chose to proceed, the volunteer would then be given a choice to select a piece of paper from the experimenter’s hand, which they were told would determine their role in the experiment. They were told that they could be either the learner, the person who would answer questions, or the teacher, the person who would ask questions and administer the punishments. It was intended to appear as random chance, however both of the papers in the experimenter’s hands would say teacher, thereby rigging the roles that were given. The remaining paper that wasn’t chosen would then be given to the actor, who would pretend that the paper told them to be the learner. After being given their roles, given that they still wished to participate, the volunteer and the actor would then be taken back to the area that had been set up for the rest of the experiment.

The volunteer and the actor were then separated into separate rooms where they were not able to see each other, although there was an intercom system set up so that they would be able to hear each other. The volunteer was then told that they would be asking questions and would be administering a controlled shock to the actor if the answers that they had given were wrong. In many cases, these questions were a series of associated words that had to be repeated in order. Given that the volunteer might have concerns about shocking someone, volunteers were also given a light sample shock to show that each shock would not equate to more than a pinch. They would then be told how to work all of the necessary equipment and instructed to proceed with the experiment. Nothing would change until the first time the actor intentionally got a question wrong.

After a question was answered incorrectly, the volunteer would be directed to give the actor a shock. For every wrong answer after this, they would then be told that the voltage would be raised by a given interval, so that each time the actor answered a question wrong, the “shock” would be more painful. Eventually the shock would rise to a voltage that should have been painful, and increasingly distressed noises would either be acted out by the actor or played from a previously recorded tape. Should the volunteer refuse to administer the shock, the experimenter had a few statements along the line of, “The experiment must continue.” This was intended to make the volunteer continue to administer the shocks, however the volunteer was still free to leave at any time. In fact, some volunteers would. For those that continued with the experiment, the shock levels would continue to increase to the point where shocks could be potentially fatal.

At this point, the actor or the tape had lines that were intended to convince the volunteer that they could die, such as yelling that they had a heart condition that could be made worse or kill them because of the shocks. Regardless of this, the experimenter would continue to say that the experiment should continue. This had the potential to reach the point that all sound would cease to come over the intercom from the actor’s room altogether, even though questions are still being asked. The experimenter would then inform the volunteer that should no answer be given, it was to be taken as an incorrect answer and a shock should be administered. After a shock or multiple shocks had been administered in pure silence, the experimenter would then tell the volunteer that the experiment had been concluded and escort them out of the room.

The Outcome and Ethics

It is important to remember that no one was ever physically injured in these experiments. All of it was acting, rigged to see how the volunteers would respond. A majority of the volunteers did proceed all the way to the end of the experiments, a number of almost 66%. This shocked the general society at the time, who had estimated that the majority of people would not go through something like this. The rest of the volunteers who did choose to walk out or threatened to call the police were then told how the experiment worked, and were asked to remain silent about their experience so that they could continue to collect accurate results.

However, volunteers experienced major trauma because of this. Instances of survivor’s guilt were recorded years later regarding the experiment, with some volunteers admitting to having persistent nightmares. So while there wasn’t any physical harm, there was certainly potential for mental harm done to the volunteers who followed all the way through. In addition to the deception as to the true purpose and methods of the experiment and the lack of informed consent from the volunteers, this experiment violates multiple sections of the modern code of ethics. As such, this experiment would never have been approved or allowed to continue today.

Application to Generation Loss

In my personal opinion, this is an experiment that should not be applied to Generation Loss. While I do understand the concept of Generation 1: The Social Experiments being about the audience and seeing how far they would be willing to take things, I do not believe there is truly enough similarity to use them as a one-to-one comparison. The roles of learner, experimenter, and teacher are not significantly filled out from the cast we have in Generation Loss in my opinion. Additionally, there is something about using an experiment that breaks the code of ethics and was designed in regards to behaviors from the Holocaust, a very serious historical event, to describe elements of an entertaining horror story that rubs me the wrong way. I do believe the appropriateness of this can be subjective, but I would like to give other people evaluating this all of the information that I also have.

In Conclusion

This essay has been designed to give readers more information as to a particular subject that was brought up in a Game Theory video. It serves the secondary purpose of displaying the reasons that I believe it is not appropriate to use in the way it has been compared to Ranboo’s Generation Loss series. I am more than willing to hold an ongoing conversation and civil debate on this matter, and encourage everyone to do their own research if this matter interests you for if you feel there is something important that I have missed.

[losangelesnewsfeed]

Riley Gaines, a well-known critic of transgender athletes, has allegedly been attacked during a speaking event at San Francisco State University (SFSU). According to Gaines, she was physically assaulted by several individuals who disagreed with her views on transgender athletes competing in sports. This incident has sparked heated debates and discussions about free speech, trans rights, and…

[lionraeart]

do you think holding a warrior's tank stance / keeping the beast gauge full for a long time would have physical consequences because I definitely think about joint/eye cavity bruises or reddened eyes or nose/ear bleeds a lot

[cynicalclassicist]

Financial harm is certainly a thing, alongside physical and emotional harm.

I want to show you an actual training slide from my customer service job that I had to see yesterday.

[purefilly-connection]

Redefining Humor: The Dangerous Pranks of Today’s Youth and the Need for Empathy

In today’s world, it’s alarming to see that what some younger individuals find amusing can cause not only emotional damage but also serious physical harm. The image you shared illustrates a dangerous prank involving household chemicals that could lead to severe injuries, and it’s a sobering reminder of how critical it is to guide our children and teens on the importance of empathy, respect, and…

[cognitiveinequality]

So... a bunch of NFT grifters threw a party in Hong Kong this weekend and reportedly a bunch of attendees are now at risk of permanent eyesight damage because the promoters used unsafe lighting, and people are going to the ER...

[puppadumz]

I've broken my ankle twice and had sprains but it doesn't really count as grievous bodily harm so I would say yeah I've avoided serious injury. But uh, I work on commercial fishing boats hundreds of miles offshore and on land I've worked in industrial commercial shellfish hatcheries full of water and ladders and slippery algae. Just lucky and situationally aware I guess? Jk I have PTSD and am hyper vigilant. I don't know. But I don't fall under the like, has a boring desk job and that's why they haven't gotten hurt.

[world-prayers]

Spiritual summoning: Be Mentally Prepared

When trying to summons an angel or performing a spiritual summoning, you are opening otherworldly doors. Therefore you should only do it yourself if you’re a metaphysical practitioner or are well-versed in the spiritual arts. Continue reading Untitled

[satellites-halo]

Sick of posts that say stuff like "all mobility aid users should weaponize their mobility aids"

hey man, I can't do that! I need to bring my mobility aids into places that would deny me entrance for things like spikes and barbed wire! not every cripplepunk is a white skinny cane user, and having something deemed as a 'weapon' on some of us can be genuinely life threatening, even if it's a mobility aid! I don't want to have my rollator taken away from me and have to be searched bc I put some spikes on a seat cover or something!!! let cripplepunks express their punkness however is safe and comfortable for them, don't expect us all to be able to do the same things you can, because we all cant

[elaenim]

Open wounds

[radio-writes]

Going on anon bc this is a bit messed up but can you write Alastor x reader where Alastor uses sex as a form of torture?

Fuck your God and His Righteous Hand(s)

Synopsis: Hasn't Alastor always been such generous partner? Hasn't He always provided for you? Given you everything and anything you ever wanted? Except for your freedom of course.

The night you decide to run away from his graciousness, you find out just how generous he could be.

Warnings: noncon, forced relationship, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, physical harm to reader, degradation, smut, over stimulation, tentacles are used (I probably missed a lot, let me know)

Tags: Alastor x fem!reader; dead dove do not eat

MDNI

Your heart beat loudly against your chest, your breath ragged and heavy. Branches and twigs snapped and broke and fell all around you as you ran.

Not that you could hear any of it over the overwhelming sound of static flooding your ears. 

As if the dark wasn't terrifying enough, you had to stumble through the woods with tears blurring your vision too. Arm stretched in front of you, swatting away vines in your path as you desperately tried to get away.

You had to get away.

You couldn't get away.

You could almost feel the ground shake beneath your feet. You could almost feel his breath that skimmed the back of your head. There was no use in running, but run you did anyway.

You kept running even when you felt his clawed fingers grab at your shirt; the fabric tearing easily.

You kept running even when you could hear his voice right by your ear. "I think it's in your best interest not to anger me any more, darling."

You couldn't keep running when a heavy, velvety tentacle wrapped around your ankle; your breath knocked out of you as you tumbled onto the forest floor.

Your hand outstretched, palm reaching into the darkness. It was a terrifying, unknown, and threatening darkness—but to you it still meant freedom.

That was the last clear thing you saw before you landed flat on your stomach, the weight of your failed escape weighing you down more than the dark shadow around your leg. 

He was laughing.

He was out of breath, panting almost as heavily as you were, but he was laughing.

You heard the crunch of leaves and twigs as he approached your collapsed form. No longer rushing, no longer frantic. He seemed to take his time as he walked towards you, now that he's sure you couldn't get away.

Still, the tentacle holding you down tightened—a warning not to try anything again.

Not that you could. The moment of rest allowed to you as you laid on the ground, made the pain and exhaustion of your body much too apparent for your liking. Your legs felt like led, the numerous scratches from who-knows-where all sung in a harmony of stinging pain.

Even when you knew you couldn't run anymore, your mind frantically whirled through ideas. You tried to think of something, anything, to keep away from the Radio Demon.

At least until his shoes finally came into your view; the red accents bright against the inky darkness. They stopped right by your head, and suddenly it felt too dangerous to even think.

You found the dirt and mud of the forest floor much more appealing than having to look Alastor in the eye, so you kept your head down. Your head shrunk into the ground as the man looked down on you.

"I must admit, I hadn't expected you to run." Alastor said, still a hint of laughter in his tone. Had you looked up then, you would have seen just how much of a mess you've made of the demon. His hand pushed his red hair back from his forehead, sweat trickled down the side of his neck. 

But it wasn't his unusual state of exhaustion that would have been shocking if you looked at him right now. No, what would have been surprising—what would have been unnerving— was the wild, desperate look in his glowing red eyes.

While you were scared, desperate to get away.

He was terrified, desperate to get you back.

The view of your small figure as you weaved through trees, dipping in and out of his sight had filled him with such cold, heavy dread.

Almost as much as the sight of your hand nearly meeting that of another demon's.

"Oh! But you're so filled of the unexpected today, aren't you, darling?" You could hear the spite in his tone, but you didn't dare raise your head.

You felt him step closer.

"I mean, I hadn't expected you to try to sell your soul to another demon, either." You cringed, lifting your arms over your ears as the static warped his voice terribly.

You felt a heavy weight on the back of your head. It rested there briefly, before it shoved you down further into the dirt. Your face pressed down into the mud, but you didn't dare fight back. You didn't dare move. The most reaction you allowed yourself was a small whimper of fear.

The sound fueled Alastor's rage, already barely kept under the surface of his smile. His eye twitched in annoyance. Why were you shaking? Why were you afraid? 

Shouldn't you be kissing the foot on your head right now? Shouldn't you be thanking him for saving you from making a terrible mistake? A soul as unique as yours would have been wasted on a demon like that. 

This ungrateful behavior, this attempt to leave him, just wouldn't do.

His foot left the back of your head, but it allowed no relief. The black tentacle wrapped around your leg swiftly yanked you up.

Your eyes widened in shock and your hands dug into the ground in an attempt to stay there. But it isn't a surprise that your flimsy resistance was easily broken through. The world soon turned into a dizzying blur of colors as you were lifted into the air. The trees floated from above and the sky was a muddy mess of leaves and roots, your arms hung limply above your head. The blood that now rushed to your head didn't help you in making much sense of what was happening.

But none of that mattered when your eyes finally met Alastor's.

As you were held up by your leg, upside down in the air, Alastor's usual wide smile looked like a snarling frown. His narrowed eyes did nothing to help the fear that quickly ate its way through you.

It was silent for a moment. Tension so thick in the air that you found it so terribly difficult to breathe.

But when he finally spoke, you thought to yourself how you actually preferred the suspenseful quiet.

"Have I not been the perfect partner?" Alastor asked. The static over his voice now eerily back to the usual amount. His tone was cheery, light, like this was just another early morning chit chat over breakfast between the two of you.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak.

The black appendage holding you up tightened, your skin already beginning to bruise. Although, it seemed that was the only indicator of Alastor's true mood, as the demon remained composed in front of you.

"Have I not given you everything you wanted?" He asked as he brought you closer to him.

When you didn't respond he brought his clawed hand up to your face. 

You flinched, feeling his cold skin against yours, fearing that he'd tear right through your flesh. 

But his touch was gentle. His fingers softly brushed away the mud and grime from your cheek. 

"I've bought you everything you liked. I've protected you. Fed you." His voice was so soft, soothing. Like an old radio show you would have listened to while you drifted off to a restful slumber. 

"I've even fucked you through your pathetic little heats." His claws dug into your skin. Blood gushed down your face, the scarlet liquid stung your eye even as you clenched it closed. 

"I've spared useless, disgusting sinners on your request. I've played nice for you. I've given you everything." His hand shifted from your cheek to your neck, his grip tight, threatening.

The static over his voice once again horrid as it deafened you. His eyes, now drowned in black, narrowed into a glare at your form.

Your hands flew to your throat, pulling at Alastor's fingers. "Please, I'm sorry, Al!" You begged as you struggled. Your body flailed and squirmed as he held you above him, looking almost like a fish torn from the sea, desperate to breathe.

"Oh you're sorry?" Alastor's head titled to one side as he watched you. "That absolutely changes everything then!" He said cheerily, mockingly.

The tentacle holding you up loosened out of nowhere, sending you down into the mud for a second time that night.

You managed to keep yourself up by your arms as you greedily heaved in air back into your lungs. Your head still spun from the rush of blood, and you felt like you were about to vomit out whatever flesh Alastor made you eat earlier that day.

You felt something at your chin—Alastor's microphone it seemed—and it tilted your face towards him. Your teary eyes met his cheerful ones, and your chest tightened. It's been a long time since you've even stepped outside, but you now felt more trapped than you ever have before.

He bent down, lowering his face closer to yours as he smiled down at you. 

"Since it seems like I've neglected my dear darling partner for so long that they've decided to seek attention elsewhere, I think it's best to spend some nice quality time together. Don't you think that'd be nice, sweetheart?" Alastor's voice held no threats. Promises. Only promises.

You shook your head no before he even finished talking. A desperate shaking hand reached up to him. "No, please. Al. Anywhere but the radio tower again. Please."

"Don't worry, doll. This time will a bit different." He assured.

You moved quickly, hurriedly, scrambling to your knees ready to beg at his feet. But before you could even part your lips to start, Alastor had both of you melted into shadows.

You re-materialize in the one place that haunted your dreams. The one place in Hell that truly, actually, did feel like hell to you.

Your blood felt frozen as you remained on the floor. Eyes wide in fear as you stared at the control panel.

Alastor turned his back to you, humming cheerfully, nonchalantly, as he made his way towards the main seat. "There's no need to look so alarmed," He said, you could almost hear the way his eyes rolled at your stupid expression. "We won't be having any special guests for this broadcast."

You finally tore your eyes away from the contraptions. Your gaze landing on Alastor's wide back as he slowly removed his coat. "You...you won't be torturing some poor soul?" You asked confused—and admittedly a little hopeful.

You couldn't count the horrible days he had made you sit and watch and listen as he took his sweet time tearing souls apart. How he joyously broadcasted the tortured screams for his Hell's entertainment.

Alastor's grin widened, stretched just a tad bit too far, before he turned his head to look back at you.

"Oh," Heavy static morphed his voice once more. "I didn't say that."

You didn't have time to react before his tentacles sprouted from his back, his inner shirt ripping to make way for them. They grabbed at your limbs, slithering around to get a tight hold as they pulled you to him.

A scream ripped from your throat at the sheer suddenness of it, and it made Alastor's heart leap in his chest. Oh how he loved those adorable reactions of yours.

"That is delightful! But do save your voice, dear. I do have to start us off first," He said gleefully as he turned around to fiddle with the controls.

You heart sunk. Eyes wide as the realization hit you. He wasn't going to force you to listen to someone being tortured. 

"Alastor, wait—"

"Why hello, you wayward sinners! Hope everyone's having a wonderfully hellish time right now, because boy do I have quite the treat to make your evenings even better!" Alastor spoke into the mic, his eyes gone black as he held your gaze. "Yes, indeed, this one is going to be very special." 

"Al, please—" You bit your lip, cutting off whatever pleas you were going to throw at him.

One of his tentacles pressed against your clothed mound as the others held you in the air. It quickly worked its way under your bottoms, ripping through it easily and exposing you to Alastor's lazy gaze. 

"Don't, please. I'm so sorry, Al. I won't do it again, I promise, please." You whispered, not wanting all of Hell to hear how you begged for mercy.

"What's that, darling? I'm afraid you'll have to be a little louder for our lovely, horrid, listeners." Alastor mocked, just as the tentacle between your legs started to slide between your folds. Another made quick work of your already torn shirt.

You grit your teeth and clenched your eyes closed. Stubbornly, you refused to make a single sound from Alastor's ministrations.

But you know how this ends.

You're hardly the first soul he had broken during a broadcast.

You, of all people, knew that well.

Another one of his appendages slithered its way to your core. It teased at the entrance, pushing, testing your hole.

"I hope everyone has a lovely time!" You hear Alastor speak to his listeners, just as a scream ripped through your lips.

You weren't nearly wet enough to take him. Your walls resisted, but not enough for his strength. The black shadow pushed its way deep into you, others coiled at your legs to spread them apart. One remained by your clit, lazily flicking along. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You cried as Alastor fucked his tentacle deep into you. The harsh thrusts sending your ample chest bouncing.

Alastor didn't respond, he rarely ever does to his victims. He preferred to let the song of their anguish play uninterrupted. But he did find himself paying more attention than he usually did to the way your body reacted to him.

His gaze locked at the way his black shadow disappeared into your slick hole. How it came back to light drenched in your juices, only to push back in harsher. How your little pussy stretched wide around his tentacle to accommodate its size.

His eyes traveled further up, watching as he wrapped one tentacle around your breast and squeezed. A lovely horrified sound coming from your lips from his actions.

He watched as you sobbed, attention fully on him. Only on him. And he couldn't deny the rather unfamiliar heat the pooled in his stomach at that fact.

The tentacle at your clit moved faster, pressing down just the slightest bit more at that little bud. You tried your damndest to silence the screams from your throat, but as your mouth fell open, you could only do so much.

The coil in your gut snapped easily. Alastor tightening his hold on you as he kept your spasming form in the air for his entertainment.

Your juices flowed down his dark appendages as it kept up the pace. Tears forming in your eyes as they gave you no reprieve, no time recover.

You fight against his hold, aching to close your thighs and catch your breath but the dark shadows merely pulled them apart wider. You pulled at you arms, wanting to push away the damned things from your core but you were merely held back the same way.

"Wait, please, stop." You were barely able to form a coherent sentence. The tentacle inside you opting to curl just the right amount to hit that soft, perfect spot inside you with every thrust. That spot that Alastor knew drove you wild when he fucks you through your heat, after a lot of begging on your end, at least.

You clenched down on it, that being the only thing you could think of that you could still do to slow this down. It unsurprisingly did nothing but make you feel more of each drag and pull against your walls.

Another orgasm is stolen from you as a tentacle began to grind itself up and down your sloppy slit, drenching itself in your slick as it attempted to join the one already fucking you. Your screams broadcasted for all of Pride Ring to hear.

It doesn't stop. He doesn't stop. His dark shadows held you still, fucking into your cervix without mercy, playing with your clit, your breasts. Pulling yet another sloppy orgasm from you.

"No more," You heaved. Alastor's assault seeing no end near. "I can't. Al, please." You begged.

You craned your neck over to look back at the demon. You find his gaze no longer on you or your body, but on the papers in front of him. His script. 

He was idly jotting down notes, chin rested on the palm of his hand and a lazy smile on his face. He almost looked bored, but the twitch of his ear as you called out his name showed you he was still paying you some attention. 

"Alastor, please," You tried again. "I am sorry. I won't do it again. I won't leave you again." You sobbed.

The tentacle inside you pulled out to your brief relief, only for it to slam harshly, deeper back into you. It's pace at breakneck speed that even with the tight hold around your limbs, your body was moved with every push and pull. 

"Oh, I'm sure you won't, darling." He finally replies to your pleas, although he didn't even glance your way. He continued correcting his notes, your sweet begging made for a wonderfully sweet background song. "Because why would you ever leave someone as generous as me?"

He ripped orgasm after orgasm from you. Your release dripped and drenched the floor of his radio tower. You begged til your throat was raw for some reprieve, for some forgiveness. But Alastor went about his way around the studio. Fixing this and that. Barely paid you any mind.

It was only when you've stopped pulling against his hold. When your legs had gone slack in the air, and your screams faded into whimpers did Alastor finally approach the control panel again.

"Wasn't that just darling! A wonderful performance, if I do say so myself," He laughed into his microphone. "I'm sure you lewd folks enjoyed yourself as much as our star of the night here, so make sure to keep an ear out for my next broadcast!"

His eyes finally land on your exhausted body. Your chest heaved with every labored breath as Alastor's tentacles finally slowly pulled out of you. A wet shlop of your juices dripping out as it did. 

He slowly lowered you onto the ruined floor, and your dazed eyes locked with his.

"There will definitely be more of where that came from." He said, less of his usual cheer. His tone lower. Threatening—no, promising.

You didn't move—you couldn't move—from the floor. You simply watched as Alastor shut down his broadcast and took his time straightening out and cleaning up his work station. He was humming cheerfully, seeming to be in a much better mood than when the night had begun.

When he was finally satisfied, you watched as he walked to where you were, stopping by your feet as he smiled down at you.

"Well, you've definitely seen better days." A laugh track followed his mockery. 

"I'm sorry." You heaved out. You hoped this was the end of it. You hoped he would just throw you back and lock you in his room again. Anything but stay in this wretched radio tower. "I'm yours. I won't try to run anymore."

Alastor chuckled at your response, moving to rest his cane against the wall before he reached up to his neck. He slowly loosened his bowtie and unbuttoned his shirt. "Oh I know you know that." He said waving off your words as if they didn't matter.

He lowered himself over you, his towering figure blocking out what little light you had. "But I'm afraid I need a bit of a reminder about who you belong to." 

His hand made quick work of his trousers, pulling his hardened cock free.

His claws were at your waist and they pulled your limp body closer to him. Not that you offered any resistance.

"You can do one more for me can't you darling?" He wasn't really asking.

You can't. But you nod your head anyway.

He pushed into you easily. Your previous releases coated him and allowed a slicker entry. 

Your back arched despite exhaustion, and Alastor drank in your pained expression. "There's a good girl. Always ready to ruin herself for her lover." You heard him say. "Don't worry, I won't make this long."

But of course that was a lie. He pulled back so slowly, revering in the way your drenched walls felt around him; how they clenched around his cock like how he saw them do around his tentacle. Then he thrusted himself back harshly into your sloppy hole, forcing what little sound you could still make out from your lips.

He fucked into you, slowly, deeply, maddeningly. Making sure you both felt each and every drag of his heavy cock.

He wasn't one to crave sex as much as most of hell, but when it was with you—his precious partner, he had to admit he didn't hate the sensations all too much. And if it meant reminding you who was in control, if it meant making you owe him, making you dependent on him, making you crave him, then it was all the more enjoyable to see you fucked out and speared on his dick.

One of his hands made its way to the back of your neck, pulling you up into his lap. He fucked up into you as your head lolled to the side, struggling to keep your body upright.

Alastor drank in your expression. Your glazed over eyes, the tear stains that smeared through the mud and blood along your cheeks, the drool dripping from your split lips. Yes, this is what you deserved for even daring to leave him. This is what you needed to be reminded on just how good a partner he is.

He wrapped a tentacle around your hips, keeping you steady as he pounded his cock into you. His free hand now moved between you, to your clit.

Your hips spasmed as he drew quick circles on the bud, but you fought the instinct to squirm away. You wouldn't leave him. 

You can't leave him.

You know that now.

Alastor's grin widened when he noticed your actions. "There's a good girl." He purred again, leaning down to your neck to lick up your skin.

"Let me feel you cum on my cock now, darling. Let me feel how much you want me to fill you up." He whispered, his sweet voice right by your ear as he pressed down harder on your clit.

You whined, tears pouring from your eyes once more as he tore yet another orgasm from your weakened body.

Your fluids drenched his dick, soiling his pants as you came around him. Alastor all but tore your skin as he gripped you tight. His own pace finally picked up.

You felt him twitch inside you, before the hot feeling of his seed soothed your battered cunt. 

"Tell me, would that scum have let you cum like this?" Alastor whispered in your ear. He held you tightly, his head still at the crook of your neck.

"No," You responded weakly. You felt him twitch inside you again.

You tried your hardest not to think back to the poor sinner, ripped limb from limb in a blink of an eye. Their body likely still stomped down into the mud of the forest floor.

"Would any other wretched soul be able to give you what I give you?" Alastor asked again. He playfully nipped at your ear.

"No," You responded again.

"So who do you think can treat you, treasure you, best, my dear?" He pulled back, his smug smile loomed over you as he held your chin for you to keep his gaze.

"You, Alastor. Only you can treat me this good." The words were bitter in your mouth

You hadn't sold him your soul. And he would never ask for it.

But you were his and his alone, nonetheless.

"And don't you ever forget it." He mused, pushing you back down to the floor as he began to fuck himself inside of you again. His previous release slowly pushed out with every slow thrust.

"Be still for me, darling," He whispered sweetly. "Let me have my fill of you for now." 

I don't usually write smut but this request sent me haywire. Hope I didn't disappoint, anon! I loved your demented request ♪

[crippleswag]

even if your physical disability was caused by something specific you did, you still don’t deserve to deal with all this pain and suffering.

weight gain, suicide attempts, self harm, self inflicted injuries in general, overworking yourself / pushing your limits, not working ergonomically / doing tasks incorrectly and many other things can make you physically disabled and even if it is your fault, you still don’t deserve it. no one does.

[cubbihue]

Looking at those bandages on young changling Timmy. What happened there bud.

He rough housed a bit too much with his babysitter!

Timmy Turner has always been a hyperactive child. It's not uncommon for him to get scrapped up from playing too much or too competitively! He'll be more careful as he grows older, like most kids do.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[grandwretch]

i so badly want one of those fic examinations of steve's relationship with joyce and hopper but solely through eddie's pov like hear me out

steve and eddie chat a lot in the upside down (and later in the hospital, when they learn hop is alive). steve has taken charge of filling eddie in on the rest of their of-age crew without the kids butting in. he never mentions his own parents, but he talks about the rest of the party's a lot, especially joyce and hopper. eddie knows what it's like to desperately want someone to be your parent and trying to hide it from his own childhood, when he would try to be cool about wayne dropping him off at his dad's house. steve obviously adores joyce and hopper, thinks the world of them and legitimately looks up to them.

eddie isn't sure what he expects from a cop who came back to life and the world's most determined housewife, but he's excited to meet them as someone steve loves.

cue eddie's horror when he realizes that neither of them really feel much for steve rather than annoyance and vague distrust. that joyce trusts will with eddie, an accused murderer, in a heartbeat and still hesitates to leave him with steve. that hopper brushes off every ounce of steve's hero worship and joy.

he tries to broach the topic with steve, gently, and is heartbroken when steve genuinely has no idea what he's talking about. and not because he's oblivious, but because steve thinks that's what he deserves. he thinks that's the parental love that someone who was an asshole in high school needs, because that's what would make him a good person. he needs people to call him out constantly, obviously, because why else would they keep doing it? why would nancy? at least they're here. at least they're not ignoring him. at least they're not forcing him into a box. they just want him to be better.

like, this is the man who thanked a girl for calling him bullshit and telling him she never loved him. he doesn't Know that's not how you're supposed to handle things. no one ever taught him that.

and now eddie's gotta figure out how he can teach steve how to be loved the right way without outing himself and his huge crush on his love-starved dork of a friend.

[clubpenguist]

we talk a lot about how mental and physical disabilities are different lived experiences and just having one doesnt mean you understand the other, BUT i dont see a lot of people talk about how they can still interact with and feed off of each other!! so heres a shoutout to:

medical trauma survivors

medical abuse survivors

people with endocrine disorders that affect their brain chemicals

people who are depressed due to the isolation of living in an inaccessible world

people who are anxious due to ableism in the world

people whose mental illnesses led to their physical condition worsening

suicide attempt/self harm survivors who retained lasting injuries, pain, or other illnesses

physical abuse survivors who retained lasting injuries, pain, or other illnesses

people with chronic illnesses induced by eating disorders

people with chronic illnesses induced by substance abuse

developmentally disabled people whose condition affects both their mental and physical motor skills

people whose psychiatric medical team doesnt understand their physical barriers

people whose physical medical team doesnt understand their mental barriers

people caught in the loop of their mental and physical conditions making each other worse

and everyone else who lives with me in the middle of the venn diagram of physical & mental disabilities. its hard when everyone seems to assume you can only be one or the other, especially on a website full of discourse yet entirely devoid of nuance. i love each and every one of you!