#they have the same amount of skills and even trauma

[danaclese]

Nightwing has a few origins.

Originally he has a very healthy transfer where he discusses his feelings with everyone and decides its time to move on and be leader of the titans, remains on good terms with Batman.

And it feels better to see Dick healthy and communicative and displaying agency.

Making his name and costume a tribute to his two great mentors.

But then we don't get Batman Prodigal....

Personally I prefer my Nightwing getting his: Costume from his biological father, by basing it off a tribute to the design of the old flying grayson costume.

Training from Bruce, his adoptive father by his years as Robin.

Name and Philosophy from his hero Superman.

But thats just my canon, the CORRECT CANON is always the one you find the most personally resonant.

[medusaesque]

Kim's itchy trigger finger

So, Kim reaches for his gun often. Very often. sometimes for the most ridiculous reasons- opening the bear fridge, the experiment in the church, a note from Klaasje.

This one is just from being anxious going into the communist reading group. Kim doesn't want to be the kind of cop who draws his gun constantly, who shoots instinctively, but he is, or at the very least it's very difficult for him to stop himself from becoming one.

Perhaps the most horrifying example is with The Pigs-

Even if he KNOWS the gun isn't loaded, even if he knows it's safe, the instinctual muscle twitch could have ended in an unnecessary death. Kim is very well aware of that fact, and it's horrifying to him. @shufflerock-jam has this really good post about it, where they wonder how many of Kim's kills were unnecessary. "Something about a pair of traumatized cops, one fighting against shooting himself and one fighting against shooting everyone else".

At the end of The Pigs exchange, if Harry says she tried to kill him, Kim begins to interject, but stops himself and agree this situation could've been very bad. Then Empathy chimes in- 'He's trying not to think about how bad it could have been had the gun been loaded.' Which is the heart of the issue, right? that leads us to Eyes-

This is such a fascinating background to give Kim as a character- not just losing his partner, which gives him the trauma and survivor's guilt that lead to this unhealthy relationship with his gun and frankly with death in general, but losing his Eyes, and having that not interfere with his shooting. Kim doesn't need to see well to hit, he doesn't need to think. It's all in his hands, a reflex. A reflex that nearly took an innocent life. That might have taken one before.

His awareness of looming danger, to him and to his partner, is fueling his version of Hand/Eye Coordination to have him constantly on edge, his whole body is like a loaded spring, always prepared to make sure it doesn't happen again. Then it does-

In his nightmare scenario, leaning over his partner's bleeding body, Kim only needs one word to shoot without a second's hesitation. He's never not ready to take that shot. He doesn't need his Eyes.

Harry is distraught to discover he's killed before- his body remembers it. He wants a drink to soften the feeling. Kim however is impressed with how little he's killed- especially coming from the bloody murder unit. He wants to be 'one of the good ones' (Kim's adamant belief in the possibility of a Good Cop is a whole other can of worms) the kind of cop he would think highly of. Kim is disgusted by cops who kill like it's a game. Espirit gives us a vision of a cop exactly like that, who kills so often it doesn't feel like anything anymore. In a way that is completely mechanical- no thought, no feelings, just a thing your body does. Not unlike the way Kim shoots- like a spring unloaded. Kim has 6 confirmed kills before the tribunal, double the amount Harry has. He doesn't react the same way though-

It's doesn't bother Kim that he has killed, even if he declines to elaborate on it, and he seems to frown upon (or worry about) Harry's destructive coping mechanism. If they're unable to save Ruby, he says "Control your emotions. We did our job. This won't be the worst thing that happens on this case… believe me. You can't let this break you." When you wake up after the tribunal, he doesn't dwell on the lost lives on either side. Harry's skills call him a killer, a bloodstained killer, but when he tells Kim he also killed he simply nods. He's smoking though. I'm not saying that Kim is heartless or careless, he's rattled by nearly blowing The Pigs' head off, very sorry for the lives lost during the case, and clearly hunted by death, having been surrounded by it for his entire life. But I do think death is a part of the job for him- not just possible civilian causalities, but his own potential death. He speaks plainly about how he might die in the lie of duty, and he narrowly avoided it more than once, with others dying in his place..

He walked into the line of fire with harry expecting for of them to die, and his quick fingers on the trigger made it so they lived another day. Even if more ghost joined the list that hunts him in his sleep, he is alive. He goes on. He can't afford to fix this habit, as much as he wants to.

So it's so horrible and so touching that when Dros asks "What have you done?" Kim says-

It's a tragedy, really. A wartime orphan who wanted to be a revolutionary pilot and played with Franconigerian knights, who grew up to be a cop, a job that slowly shapes his body into a killing machine. And when you ask what he does, what you both do, he says keep people alive.

[xan-izme]

Crybaby (Sully fam X daughter!reader)

Summary: Reader has always been a crybaby. Sensitive and had a soft spot for all living life. Jake disliked how sensitive you always were, he sent you out on your own for a month and came back a cold-blooded killer.

Warnings: Death, gore, mentions of death, mentally unstable reader, violence, Trauma

You were kind, sweet. Always looked on the bright side, you were on the same path as Kiri, training to become Tsahik. But it was clear you weren't as good as Kiri, which you were quick to admit.

That lead to Jake placing you with your brothers, training to become warriors. He wanted to tough you up, Jake loves how much you cherished love, he loved seeing the world through your optimistic eyes.

But ever since the sky people came back, he just needed his eldest daughter to be strong. Be there just in case he would leave this world a little too early.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Y/n, I need you to keep your balance! keep tripping like that you'll get killed." Jake's words hurt you, but you remember how upset he was the last time you nearly cried.

You inhaled sharply "Yes father." You stood up from the ground and faced your twin, Neteyam. He gave you a knowing look that wanted to know if they should stop, you shook your head lightly, not wanting to seem more of a wimp to your father then you already are.

You were an average hunter, your skills in fighting weren't that bad either.

But that wasn't enough for Jake. He needed to know that you were as skilled as Neteyam, as skilled as your mother was. So, it was always.

"Be faster"

"Hit stronger"

"Not good enough, try again!"

You would push your limit. Till you couldn't keep your eyes open. Your father would say words of gratitude here and there. Like small nods and a "Good work"

Your brothers sometimes feel like that's not enough for how much he makes you do. But just the smallest amount of approval from Jake made you feel like you were on cloud nine, causing you to do more, work harder.

Then one day, you were having a hard week, you were getting frustrated at the simplest things. Even your fathers nagging was annoying you.

When it came to training, you slipped up and made multiple mistakes that Jake just could not take it.

"Y/n, come now." Jake spoke calmly. You and your twin glanced at each other. You stood up with the help of Neteyam and followed your father.

The two of you walked through the woods.

"Baby, you know why I push you and your siblings so much, right?"

You nod your head, feeling a little nervous even if Jake was using his usual soft tone. "Then you understand--" Jake held you by your shoulders "--That this family, this clan is our fortress. And protecting this family is everything"

His words were deep to you, it was clear this was important to him. "And I need you to be strong. And training here hasn't been helping. So, Im sending you off. Away from here, so you can improve more on your own" Jake saw how your expression dropped "don't worry! It'll only be for a month. Ill check in every few weeks." He tried to reassure you. It didn't really calm your nerves down, but seeing how desperate he was to make sure you and the family was safe?

there was no way you could say no.

So, you left, you were on your own. The first few days were hard. And there were multiple times when you got seriously hurt and cried. God, you cried so much. All that crying made you hate yourself.

Hate every flaw you had. You even hated the soft part of you. Scolding yourself, knowing that kindness and your crying will not protect the clan, your family.

Jake did try to visit you. But you never stayed in one place. The two of you talked a little over the inner coms when you two would be miles apart. But those convocations didn't last.

You were training harder than ever. Perfecting every little thing down to the bone. In all honesty, you did go a little off from the safe zone, where you ran into a few sky people. You made it our alive, as for those sky people?

Well, you only let one live, still having that small kindness and mercy in you. Which was a big mistake.

You received a message from Norm and Max when they wanted to check on you, that a sky person bombed up a small part of the safe zone close to the high camp. No one was killed, but a lot were majorly injured.

Gaining all the details of the incident, you realize that it was the sky person you let live.

Cursing yourself and beating yourself for being so foolish, so naive for thinking nothing of what that sky demon after setting it free. So, you vowed to not give your enemy's any type of mercy, to kill all those evil demons, to protect you clan, your family.

Because this family was your fortress. And you were determined to be theirs.

Your month was over, and you were just so excited to go home. To hug and smother your siblings with kisses. To show your dear parents how strong and skilled you've become. To make your father proud of you. To officially be seen as enough to help protect everyone.

Norm gave you an inner com that was connected to your family, being told that your parents and dear twin brother were on patrol at the moment.

You decided to fly your Ikran to where you were told you parents and twin would be at. But when you were a few clicks away from them, you heard Lo'ak's voice. Saying he has gained sight of intruders. Ones who were carrying guns.

Dreamwalkers

You spoke into your inner coms.

"I'm closest to their location. I'll engage."

"Y/n-- wait, no! Y/n you better not!" Jake shouted.

"Y/n te i'tri Mo'ata Sully. Stay down! that's an--"

You turned your intercoms off. The safety of your baby siblings was the only thing you had in mind. It was almost eclipse, and telling by how the winds picks up and the clouds, it was to rain soon.

Your Ikran felt the panic and determination you were feeling and speed up to get to the location faster.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You made it before your parents and twin could. You killed off every single dreamwalker. And that demon who took your mother's home away, who took Kiri's mother away.

The demon who caused so much harm to your clan.

"Any last words Demon?" you say, tilting your head as you held the sharp dagger to Quritche's throat. The Demon growled and spat in your face.

You weren't very pleased with that; you turned your head towards your siblings who were huddled against a tree.

"Spider"

The small human boy flinched by the way your voice sounded.

"Close your eyes." You said with a small fond smile. But it felt nothing like that. Kiri quickly brought Spider close to her and covered his eyes.

You looked back at Quaritche. The moment you slit his throat and began to detach his head from his body, was the moment Jake and Neytiri entered the scene.

Neytiri was quick to go by her younger children's side. Your ears perk and notice Jake. Once you laid eyes on him. Your face lit up.

"Father!" Youran to him and hugged him. Jake was in utter shock at the scene in front of him. He slowly hugged you tight. You pulled away, smiling, unphased by the amount of blood that was on you.

"I did it. I saved them. Look!" you pulled Jake to where Quaritche's dead body was and grabbed the head of the demon.

"I have killed him. I did it!"

Neteyam slowly entered and looked over what you had done.

"Mommy!" Tuk whined and was quickly embraced by Neytiri.

You were smiling, happy that you've finally rid your father of the nightmare that had burdened your family.

But when you began to see the look Jake had. You started to notice that was not the look of approval you hoped for.

"Y/n . . .What have you done?"

Your smile dropped, being replaced with confution

"Wha-. . .what? what's wrong? what did I do wrong!?" You didn't understand. Did you not put them down fast enough? Should you have taken out the leader before the others? What was it that was wrong??

"Y/n, baby. This--" He was pointing out to the bloody battle around them "--Is wrong. You tampered with their body's. Some of them are still bleeding out!"

"N-no! it's okay you see! I made it for them to not move at all and suffer their punishment." You tried to defend yourself. Tried to make your dear father know that it was okay. And that you did a good job.

Neytiri hurried the children to exit this part of the forest fast, including Spider. Neytiri didn't like Spider, but the boy didn't deserve to see all of this. None of her children did.

"That is not our way!" Jake yelled. Frustrated, worried and scared for his daughter in front of them.

Your ears pinned back. Feelings of sadness, betrayal and anger infecting your heart.

"Well, your way didn't work for me. You said so yourself! Why can't you just be happy!?" Your nose scrunched up in anger.

"I did this for the clan, for our family-- For you!" You were getting upset. All you wanted was the feeling of being called a Sully, worthy of the tittle as Toruk Makto's daughter.

"You can't do this. Your way will bring unbalance to the clan. And if you can't do that. . . then I'll have to strip your tittle as a warrior of this clan." Jake's words caused everyone to stop.

"Ma jake." Neytiri spoke, her eyes glancing between her mate and child.

You felt your bottom lip quivering. But your eyes refused to release the tears. You slowly backed away from Jake, nodding your head a little. Your eyes found its way to Spider who kept tripping, his legs still shaking from what he witnessed.

"Spider." You spoke up. The boy forced himself to look at you.

"Keep tripping like that. . . . . and you'll get killed."

[lightning-and-dragons]

I've been rewatching Skybound recently, and I've found myself thinking that it would've been absolutely incredible for Jay's story if everyone somehow remembered what happened. (with Nya still being alive, of course). Not only could Jay get help for the insane amount of trauma he experienced, but the ninja team, who likely don't think of him as the "leader" type, would then see differently.

Jay really stood up as a leader in this season. Although he made mistakes in the first half, after he escaped Misfortune's Keep he really took charge and showed how great a leader he could be. He proved that he wasn't just someone who could use lightning and say a funny joke. He could be someone people listen to, look up to, and obey orders from. Someone that people trust to lead them.

Not only did Jay make a plan to keep Nya away from Nadakhan as long as possible, but when she was taken he continued on. Jay also, after Ed talked to him, pick himself up after being the only ninja left standing, created a new team, and made a plan, basically all by himself. He led them despite how he has never led a team before, and led them well. He even made the call to risk his own freedom and go into the Djinn blade, saving the members of the team who were trapped.

Jay is so often, especially now with the newer seasons, seen as just the comedy guy, the funny side character, when in reality, when push comes to shove, he can also be an incredible leader, and it would've been amazing if the rest of the team saw him as such!

Prime Empire showed a little bit of his leadership skills too, but not in the same way. I want to see Jay make plans again, make tough calls, and lead others all by himself.

He can do it, he's proven it, but the others don't know it. If only they did. Maybe then Jay could have another chance at being a leader.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hey um, what if the Overblot boys told each other their backstories?

Mmm… Well firstly, I think it would take a lot of effort to arrive at a point where all of the OB boys would even feel comfortable being that emotionally intimate with the others. Many of the OB boys are highly guarded and resistant to putting themselves in compromising positions. For example, I can easily see Azul being paranoid that the others would use his background as blackmail; he would not risk having his own vulnerabilities becoming public knowledge. Would Leona really be okay with being sentimental in front of various people he dislikes, especially Malleus and Vil? Would Idia feel safe unpacking his trauma and grief in front of his peers? Etc, etc, etc.

Secondly, I think that even if the OB boys were hypothetically at the point where they were okay sharing their backstories with the others, it wouldn’t change much about their immediate circumstances?? The OB boys generally don’t strike me as particularly… empathetic? At least not automatically empathetic. It’s something they would need to put effort into and actively work on. I imagine that they’d otherwise just pull a Zuko-style “That’s rough, buddy” or potentially even say something tactless that rubs their peers the wrong way (for example, not fully understanding the situation or even downplaying one another’s trauma). Riddle (someone with very little to no experience with social media and entertainment mediums) might not get how being a celebrity influences Vil’s life, Leona might insult Malleus (someone whom he has a bone to pick with), everyone might still be upset with Malleus for what he did to them in book 7. etc. Each OB boy only has their own experiences as the lens through which they see and interact with the world, and it’s not that easy for just anyone to put themselves in the shoes of another person.

Hearing a (for lack of a better term) traumadump doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll connect with it or understand just how grueling it was for the person who experienced said trauma. It would usually take a significant amount of time and reflection (ideally facilitated by a licensed mediator or professional) to digest those stories in group therapy and to make sure that everyone actually understands one another. A surface-level story retelling alone in most cases isn’t (again, for lack of a better term) “enough”, especially with how self-centered, emotionally immature, and different many of the OB boys are.

Think of empathy like a skill or a muscle. It isn’t innate. You need to develop it and train it, and not putting it to use can lead to atrophy. And given how arrogant and independent your usual NRC student is… yeah, it’s definitely going to be something for them all to work on.

If you want to think of it another way, it’s like how different players will react differently to reading the OB boys’s backstories. Someone who experienced bullying similar to Azul could more easily empathize with him while also not fully “getting” the full scope of other stories they hear. Maybe they can’t understand why Riddle still cares about the mother who mistreated him. Maybe they don’t see why Jamil sacrifices so much for his family. It doesn’t make the player a bad person for not understanding all the stories, it simply means they have a limited perspective. The same is true of the TWST characters; they, too, have incomplete perspectives and rely predominantly on their own points of views to make sense of the world.

Maybe knowing their backstories in advance would change some scenes in small ways (such as book 6, when they split up and then butt heads with each other). They’d know where the other boys were coming from, and how that informs how they act in present day. However, I maintain that I think not much would change from the original. In a stressful situation like book 6, they could easily slip up and say something insensitive/make assumptions about their behavior based on their background/overlook or not even consider their background in the first place since they’re so focused on the current task. For example, Azul, feeling insulted that Riddle is underestimating him, could make a snide remark that just because his mother was a control freak doesn’t mean Riddle also has to be. Jamil could still see Leona as a spoiled prince because, despite being treated like an outcast, he still grew up in immense privilege as royalty. They can so easily fixate on their own interpretations of events that it colors how they perceive others, rather than how they can relate to others no matter how similar or dissimilar their experiences were.

In other ways, I think the OB boys sharing their backstories with one another stifles potentially meaningful development. Character growth in TWST isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon, and we’re here for the long haul. What does depositing all the backstories in their laps achieve for the OB boys? It artificially puts them in a situation to “better know” their peers rather than let it happen organically or allowing them to grow closer through their own efforts. Let’s look at the Deuce-Epel beach scene from book 5. Do you think it would have been as impactful of a scene if Epel explained his life in the countryside and how he got his traditional views on gender norms to Deuce? Personally, I don’t think so. The scene we currently have has them bonding and connecting through a shared activity (shouting at the sea), then having a heart-to-heart without a heavy backstory exposition. It’s through that, not explicit backstory sharing, that the two form an attachment and become genuine friends.

Those are all my thoughts!! ^^

[wiltedreamofbaldursgate]

You, Blinding Like the Sun

characters: Astarion x gender neutral Elf!Tav/reader word count: +1.5k Rating: teen and up. sfw. trigger warning: very loosely implied trauma on both sides. read on ao3

Astarion despises you so very much because you’re everything he isn’t, everything he has never been. Not even alive could he have held a candle to you, because you’re perfect and he is falling, and he hates that he is falling for you.

He despises you.

From the moment Astarion first laid eyes upon you—confident, selfless little elf, blinding like the sun—he has despised you. You with your dazzling golden eyes, the sweet flush on the tip of your pointy ears. Your artfully arranged hair, kissed by the sun to make it shine like fine silk. The cute little freckles sprinkled all over your unmarred skin—skin that has never been touched by undesired hands. You who lived long enough to choose a name for yourself—to make a name for yourself.

How he despises all of it.

The way you win anyone over with nothing but an honest smile; the sheer purpose in your every step. That nasty confidence of yours that isn't some skill you ever needed to acquire because, to you, it comes all-natural, of course—you were born with it. Astarion can tell it's true because he’s spent two centuries mimicking the behaviour of people just like you.

And he despises you for it.

Before you were even born, the gods have bestowed their gifts on you, and here you are, not even knowing what power you hold, how very blessed you are. You wouldn’t even care if you knew, because the fact of the matter is that you have no need for gods nor gifts nor skills. Not when people gravitate towards you as if you have hung the stars. And how dreadfully inviting you always are, so very accommodating.

Come sit by the fire, Astarion; isn’t it cold and lonely over there?

Come feed from me, Astarion; you look so terribly starved.

Come enjoy yourself, Astarion, have all of me, Astarion, I don’t ask for anything in return, Astarion.

Astarion, are you alright? 

Everything you say or do, everything you are—he fucking despises it.

He despises how laughably easy it was to fool you, to fuck you, to make you fall for him; honestly, don’t you know any better, darling? Probably not, because it’s evident that you aren’t all there in the head sometimes.

After all, who in their right mind would let a starved beast feast at the most divinely set table, have it indulge in the sweetest of wines as if it were nothing, as if it weren’t everything to him? And it’s only by luck that you’re still breathing now, that he hasn’t ripped out your throat to drink up every obscenely delicious drop of you.

But of course, you come with an excessive amount of luck—so much of it that it makes up for your lack of brains. Hells, the worst thing that has ever happened to you is the little fiend lingering behind your eye, the very same thing that has set him free after centuries of endless suffering, and he despises you. Astarion despises you so very much because you’re everything he isn’t, everything he has never been. Not even alive could he have held a candle to you, because you’re perfect and he is falling, and he hates that he is falling for you.

You with the soft lilt in your voice, a reminder of a language that weighs like lead on Astarion’s tongue. You with your easy smile that he can’t help but return with an unfamiliar one of his own. You with your blood that tastes like the very sun. Astarion hates that he never even stood a chance against you because you care. Because you either love sincerely or not at all. Because you somehow love him.

And he hates that his gaze keeps following the alluring sway of your hips; that he finds himself instinctively reaching for your hand whenever you hold it out to him, and that he hates it even more when you don’t.

He hates the way you say his name—not because you mock him for that childish name of his, no, but because it makes him want to hear it from your lips over and over and over again.

And most of all, he hates the way you speak of victory. How dare you make it sound so believable—probable, even? He hates how he trusts your words to come true, that real freedom is at his fingertips. If you think it’s possible, it has to be, doesn’t it…?

Yes, Astarion well and truly hates how much he wants you, trusts you, craves you. Your blood. Your smile. Your love. All of you. It makes him feel like an idiot because all you had to do to mess up his perfectly fine plan was to exist next to him. You are the stake hovering right above his heart, and he is so fucking scared of the inevitable impact. Because sooner or later, his love for you will bite him in the ass—it always does. It hasn’t happened yet, but here he is, already hurting.

It hurts Astarion to watch you get injured in battle, and it hurts even more to see your eyes frantically dart over him to make sure he’s alright after. It hurts that he wants to make love to you so badly but doesn’t quite know how. It hurts him to guard over your trances, to watch you struggle through each night, haunted by your very own ghosts—and that he can’t do anything to ease your suffering. It makes him feel weak, and he is tired of feeling this way, tired of being so fucking useless to you. You haven’t realised that he is nothing yet, but you will soon enough, and Astarion is afraid—always afraid that that will be the end of it. The end of him. Around you, he can feel his mask slip all too often, all too easily, and he is afraid of your blindingly loving gaze upon him. What do your golden eyes see?, he wonders, too afraid to ask. Why don’t you look away when you see him laid bare? He’s afraid that there’s something wrong with you, because how could it be any different?

In fact, Astarion is mostly afraid for you, because every day he learns that you’re not perfect at all. There are more knots in your hair than he can count, and you always seem to have a nasty sunburn spread across your shoulders. You sometimes cackle like a goose around the fire, and you’re too gullible, too good for your own good. And you can die so very easily…

Deep inside, Astarion is terrified that one day you will glide through his fingers like sunlight at dusk.

He’s terrified that there won’t be anything he can do to save you.

He’s terrified of what he might be willing to do to try anyway.

You wake from your restless trance with a choked cry. It seems like you always startle into consciousness, unsure of where you are even moments later. It’s not the first time that Astarion wonders what could possibly be haunting your memories, but the way you tremble and make yourself look smaller keeps reinforcing his sickening suspicions.

Forcing down the anger soaring through him, he leans over to where you’re lying next to him. Cooing softly, he brushes a strand of hair from your forehead, cautious to barely touch your sweat-drenched skin. His eyes lock with yours, and together you wait for the tightness in your chest to ease, your hurried breath to slow down. 

You grab his hand to hold it against your racing heart, and Astarion wants to tell you that you’re safe; lying is what he does best, after all. He can’t bring himself to say those false words, though, not to you—never again to you. He has already tainted so much of what you have together and although you’re not perfect, you’re special. This is special and he will do anything to make it last.

When your breath has calmed into a gentle rhythm again, Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, gently pulling your back against his chest. His lips are still warm from your blood circulating underneath his skin as he presses them against your temple.

“Rest,” he whispers. “I got your back, sunshine.” Astarion’s words are hesitant and shaky, even in his own pointy ears. Long years of disuse have perverted the inflection, and he doesn’t trust himself to say any more—not for now, at least.

It takes you a moment to realise that Astarion has spoken in your common mother tongue, but when you do, you tilt your head to find his almost timid gaze again.

“I know you do,” you answer, a lazy smile tugging at your lips, making your perfectly melodic words sound so much lovelier. “Thank you, Astarion.”  

The pale elf brushes his lips against yours. It’s a quick, sloppy kiss, and he doesn’t recall ever kissing someone like this before—rushed and imperfect; real. He takes in your smile one last time before he buries his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your warmth, your scent. Everything that is you. 

Astarion loves to be blinded by the sun.

[autball]

Part 2 of a 5 part series about the ways harmful practices can be made to sound more appealing and how to spot the differences between helpful and harmful approaches. Self-regulation skills for kids are all the rage right now, and there are lots of people who will tell you that they have just the program for that. Which sounds awesome, right? Self-regulation is great! Who wouldn’t want that for their kid who is just so upset all the time?

The problem is that these people think self-regulation is just a set of skills you can teach someone. Or even better, that if you ignore a person in distress long enough, they’ll magically come up with those skills on their own. (Like, what even is that logic? Oh right, it’s the same thinking that makes people believe the Cry It Out method for babies is a good idea.)

But that’s not how that works. Self-regulation skills come from safe co-regulation, and the learning begins in infancy. Then it takes YEARS of more co-regulation and brain development to get to a place where a person can even start to recognize the need for and use those skills of their own volition.

Oh, and they also have to have enough time NOT in distress to even know what it feels like to feel safe and regulated in the first place. They need room to develop said self-regulation skills. You can’t just keep a kid in a pressure cooker all the time and expect them to learn how to “regulate” through it (which is exactly what many people are doing to the autistic and ADHD kids they put through these programs).

When you try to teach self-regulation skills to a stressed out, traumatized child without doing ANYTHING to make their environment safer and less demanding, or doing ANYTHING to make yourself a safe co-regulator, the most you can hope for is that your child gets good at *acting* calm and *performing* regulation skills (and that’s if it doesn’t just backfire completely). But the inner turmoil is still there, and they still have no idea how to deal with it.

And kids who are left alone in their distress don’t “develop skills.” At least not any healthy ones. They just keep crying or lashing out until they can’t anymore, and they learn that no one cares to help them in their darkest moments. If you do it long enough, you might even push them into shutdown or fawn mode, which is super convenient for the adults, but devastating for the child. For the record, breathing exercises are not inherently bad. Neither is learning to recognize body sensations or what “zone” you’re in or any of the other things that can help with self-awareness (as long as we’re not sending the message that certain feelings are “good” or “bad”). It’s just that those things don’t work for everyone, and they’re not a substitute for safety and co-regulation.

Kids need safe adults, and they need to be around them more for than just an hour or two a week in therapy session. It’s the *caregivers* who need to learn *co-regulation skills,* not the children who need to learn self-regulation skills. It’s the *adults* who need to de-stress the child’s life, not the child who needs to learn how to handle overwhelming amounts of stress better. And it’s the *adult’s* job to nurture self-regulation, not a child’s job to try and figure it out on their own.

(There’s even more to self-regulation than this, of course, like the sensory processing element and the fact that being regulated is not just about being “calm,” and I’ll touch more on those in tomorrow’s post about Frustration Tolerance.)

I learned most of what I know about how children develop self-regulation through co-regulation from Mona Delahooke, and I highly recommend her work if you want to learn more about it. Trauma Geek also has information on how to find felt safety as an adult if you didn't get enough co-regulation growing up. https://www.traumageek.com/blog/3-foundational-truths-about-nervous-system-science

P.S. Did you know you can co-regulate with animals, too, or even a tree?! They might not be the greatest at modeling skills or validating your feelings, but they can still contribute to felt safety.

[xjulixred45x]

YANDERE!SatoSugu x Reader

This is mainly based on a post (of @appleblueberry-pie ), that was just complaining that there was rarely any Fluff material from Yandere Poly Gojo and Geto (and that they are mainly seen as bullies of their darling) and holy shit! Is right. So I applied the "if someone else doesn't do it, I'll do it!" I hope you enjoy it.

PART 2 OUT!!!

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: neutral/feminine

WARNINGS: SOFT YANDERE GETO SUGURU AND SOFT YANDERE GOJO SATORU, UNHEALTY MINDSET, OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, MANIPULATION, Gojo's god complex (minor), canon Divergent (Geto doesn't get corrupted...complelty), Gojo x Geto x reader, strange amount of domestic fluff towards the end. VERY LONG POST

okay.... you're screwed.

or well not so much.

What Satoru and Suguru have as a Yandere combo is that they balance each other in their worst aspects and end up being much more pleasant than if they were separated (this is more noticeable in the case of Gojo but let's talk about that).

Let's say they meet you at Jujustu High, a new classmate. which precisely stands out because of how innocent you seem, how good you are as a person.

clearly without having gone through the same traumas as most third years by the time you integrate.

You only entered to the Jujustu academy out of a desire to improve your growing skills and help people in the process. something very genuine.

So when they both become interested in you (cutie), they give each other that typical knowing look and proceed to plan how to approach you.

At first they just saw all this as an innocent Crush and in a way something new, welcome.

However, the more they watched you to know how to be close to you, the more they found out about you, the less innocent it seemed and their need to want to know everything was more... morbid to say the least.

Gojo is the first to say out loud his darkest thoughts about it, about how he wants to follow you all the time, to make sure you're safe of course! This world is so dangerous for someone so friendly, he says. They would eat you alive. he says.

However, Geto is the one who puts his feet on the ground, telling him that they must be patient, try to take you to them with caution and tenderness, since under that logic, they cannot tear you away from your world as if nothing had happened. No. you are fragile he says. in general more self-critical about these obsessive thoughts.

Gojo is bad at saying no to Geto, so he reluctantly agrees.

and that was how you officially meet them.

seeing them as pleasant companions who seemed to have a normal attraction towards you. They weren't very subtle, but they weren't as persistent as they would otherwise be(Japon, y'know)

apart from the fact that they make you feel strangely...safe in some way. Having the two strongest students on your side, helping you at every step, made you feel protected by something superior (which was not entirely a lie) and above all as if you were part of that. Like when a young lion joins the pride, that's how you feel.

at first.

because the feelings of simple companionship were slowly evolving through certain gestures, whether it was that they accompanied you home, gave you some compliment on your appearance or when You change something, or because of some lesson learned, no matter what it was, everything together left you quite stunned, but in the good sense!

Besides, they are very good friends! You can vent to them about anything, tell them about ideas you have about future techniques that you want to try (they volunteer, mainly Satoru because of the Infinity theme), if you have any problems with money or something like that, they will give you a hand(Even if You don't ask for it!), etc.

The more they get to know you, the harder they fall, and the more they do, the stronger the obsession becomes.

it can not be helped! Now that they are sure that you are even more perfect than they thought, they cannot risk ruining everything, they must follow the plan little by little in small steps..

If someone tries to bully you, don't worry! either Gojo or Geto (or both) will have a "talk" with that person and 1- they won't even dare to look at you after that or 2- you won't even know what happened to them.

If you ask either of them, they'll just tell you that "he must have left due to lack of talent" or something like that. although the way they speak somberly says otherwise.

although if a comment like this especially stuck, they won't tolerate it, they won't let you think badly of yourself, they will try to cheer you up, either by doing exercises that they know you're good at to show their point or simply going to clear your head by riding a bike.

We could say that in general terms, they do not want you to lose that innocence and purity that characterizes you above all else, you are above that. They don't want to see that shine disappear, God forbid that you ever lose the faith that keeps you standing. You are too precious for this.

I'm assuming you wouldn't have any love interest, because otherwise... you'll most likely have to deal with his recent disappearance or him suddenly walking away from you.

Simultaneously, they themselves became bolder with their advances. giving more direct compliments, or pick up lines, having more trusting physical contact with you (hugs, having an arm around your shoulders, kisses on your cheeks, etc.).

It was a slow process that left you wondering, when the hell did this happen?

but at the same time you noticed several things out of place.

For example, you no longer hung out with anyone but them, NOT EVEN Shoko or anyone, just them. and it's not like you have a chance to be alone to do it, going to the park? Satoru happened to be there, are you staying late at Jujutsu High? Geto finds you because he coincidentally had to clean that room.

Of course, you can talk to them through text messages or calls, but at the same time you have the feeling that it is not worth highlighting these facts, since it would make you look like a paranoid crazy person, right?

If you mention it to either of them (or both of them), Gojo would probably play it off as a joke and brush it off, saying that they are just coincidences and that you shouldn't worry about such trivial things. Geto is more understanding and understands why you might be suspicious, but he reassures you that they would NEVER do anything to harm you and above all, what's wrong with spending time together? They like you, you like them, so what's the problem?

By now, your relationship with them becomes a kind of unofficial romance, somewhat odd, but pleasant. I mean, they are quite cuddly and make sure you don't hurt a hair on your missions, you even get back in touch with some friends now that you seem to accept them.

everything seems perfect.

but then Riko happens.

and Geto and Gojo almost lost it

and you can easily see how bad it affected their mental health. They became more paranoid, less joking, more serious about work.

and Mimiko and Nanako also passed by, although they were some fresh air in comparison (along with a certain Megumi), but you noticed that Geto and Gojo's behavior towards you changed again.

One day, they came to your house, they told you that you had to come with them, it sounded serious and because of the problems they had recently, you didn't have the heart to say no.

They went to Gojo's house, just to talk about what had happened the last few months, both of them in a way opened up to you, saying how much they were now worried that you were going to die because of some enemy that they couldn't handle, that something could happen. tear you away from them, they couldn't handle it.

The though of lost You forever

Or that you could run away...

All of this wasn't a lie, not at all, they feel that way, but Geto and Gojo left several things out, all with the intention of not scaring you so much, but in all the whirlwind of emotions, they let out several terrifying things.

and honestly it's kind of creepy.

but at the same time you realize the situation you are in. alone with the two of them. in the Gojo clan house. probably with Megumi and the twins sleeping peacefully somewhere. with both waiting to see what your next action is in this regard.

and you honestly don't know what to do. I say, these are the strongest Jujutsu sorcerers, even if you are strong, what chance do you have of going against them?

And more importantly.....would it be that bad? In part they are right (or you think they are), the world of Jujustu is ruthless. Who says that eventually you won't see all your companions die? Wouldn't it be better to leave it in favor of a more peaceful life with... them?

You weigh the pros and cons, and you just give up. much to the delight of Gojo and Geto. which is when their tendencies that you suspected come to light more. which in a way only reaffirms your decision (how bad would it have been if you had decided to refuse....).

They're both pretty clingy, but they have some traits that, like I said, contrast each other's negative points and make them a good Yandere combo to have.

Gojo, for example, is a fairly insensitive yandere on his own, or that although he cares about your feelings, he is bad at identifying them, here comes Geto, who helps him be more empathetic with the situation and above all be more patient with you.

e.g. When you first came to "move" with them, if it had been Gojo, the process would have been much faster, but thanks to Geto it was more "pleasant" and he got to know you much better to understand your standards and fit into them. This Yandere Gojo understands better that you are A PERSON unlike the, so to speak, "Canon Yandere Gojo".

Geto is nicer, but he is obsessive and a little delusional when you are already with both of them, something that does not happen with Gojo (at least at the beginning), although he is more in tune with your emotions than Gojo, sometimes he is not in tune with certain needs as a result of your context.

For example, at first he doesn't quite understand why you should inform your family that you are "moving" with them, because in Geto's eyes, they are your family. but Gojo (surprisingly) is the voice of reason and tries to explain your behavior with the fact that you don't want your family to worry, nothing more(translation: You don't want to leave them)

Since the two of them are in this together, they tend to use a certain Good Cop/Bad Cop dynamic, but more like the Indulgent Yandere and Overprotective Yandere type of dynamic. You can't completely blame them after what happened to them with Riko.

Needless to say, you're not a Sorcerer anymore. but at the same time you have a much more powerful position than before, I mean, you are the fiancee of The Strongest's, Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo. You are safe from any target that the big fish may try, for the peace of mind of both of them(and kinda you)

and in a way, it's nice. Mimiko and Nanako keep you company constantly, asking you to play with them, tell them stories, do their hair, etc. quite domestic moments that you feel you've been missing somehow.

Megumi passes by from time to time too, but he is more distant, you understand, but he is a polite boy, apart from if Gojo or Geto are not there (which is strange) he will ask you for help to understand some writing or task, even techniques, well you will have left your career in half, but you're still useful.

If you try to leave without permission, there would be no consequence as such, you would not even be very far from the state until Gojo or Geto (mainly Geto) intercept you. Geto usually takes this as an opportunity to walk together around the state and hear you tell him about your day. Gojo would simply take it as some kind of game, as if you had played hide and seek and he had "found" you.

They are jealous, but their jealousy is not born from a lack of trust in you, ever, but rather a lack of trust in others. You are never to blame for anything.

They have definitely killed those who have tried anything with you after they have you. They just never do it in front of you. although you can assume it when only one of them goes to sleep early with you and the other arrives in the early morning while you listen to the shower tap.

Neither of them like (and in fact, hate), the idea of hurting you, physically or mentally, as I said before, they are much more patient together than apart, so they are willing to wait for you and for you to completely open up to them again.

which leads to time passing, you accepting your situation and Even findind a balance between You and them(which is somehow healty), however falling into a great depression. do not misunderstand! You love your husbands, however it has been a long, long time since you have seen anything but the Gojo State ground and four walls and it is quite depressing.

Obviously they notice this change in attitude, and they are not happy, yes, they want you to be safe, but above all they want you to be happy with them, so, again, they put together a little plan.

One day you see them strangely smiling, while they simply accompany you in your daily activities, at meals, and at some point they convince you to go to sleep earlier than usual. Why? The only response you get at the time is a "secret🤫" sign.

You go to sleep, but in the middle of the morning (it still seems like night) you feel them tenderly waking you up, you know it's them, but you have no idea what they are planning in the middle of the night. Geto and Gojo carry you to either of their cars and leave the state, much to your surprise.

When you ask them where they are going, they simply respond in unison "wherever you want" and you are... shocked, but you can see that it's not a joke. and a very warm feeling blooms again.

They were out most of the morning, going to the places that were open (which being Japan, there were not a few), cute cafes, McDonald's (Gojo's fault), going crazy around in the car, floating with Gojo's infinity or in the Geto's rainbow dragons--

buying slushies at a 7/11 (Geto can't stand the cold much, but he overcomes it for you, Gojo laughs at the expression in his face when he freeze his brain), watching a movie, and before you know it, the sun is already rising.

They stay and watch for a while, while they just talk nonsense or something like that, you're just absorbing all of this while you can, as if this will never happen again.

Geto and Gojo look at you in silence, enjoying seeing the shine in your eyes again, but simultaneously doubt arises in both of them: how are they going to tell you to return home now that you are so happy? and honestly they didn't think much about what to do after this...

but suddenly Geto says that they could make this a monthly thing, since it really was something fun, and that it would be a shame not to repeat it.

Gojo (still somewhat surprised by the improvisation) agrees, Socercer's life is hard, he needs at least once a month to spend it with his two favorite people, right?

You know they're serious when they look at you smiling, and you nod vigorously (you're so shocked by this new but welcome change that you can't even speak).

That's how it is decided, shortly after you fall asleep again, Gojo carries you to the car.Geto and Gojo look at each other, touched by your sleeping figure.

They know they made the right choice. like you.

Shares, reblogs, and comments are very welcome!

[thr0wnawayy]

A Waste of Air (Why Inasa Sucks as a Character)

Reasoning

Boring quirk (wasted potential, uncreative)

Wind powers are so underutilized and Inasa's is no different. It effectively amounts to 'what Hellflame does but worse'.

Whereas Enji at least has some (albeit very limited) control over the form of his fire and where it comes from his body, Inasa can only move wind around in a spiral and also use it to propell himself.

His existance only serves to be a hindrance and an obstacle both to the plot and to the characters

Literally only exists as an obstacle to Shouto, backtracking on Shoto's previous growth just so Bakugo (authors pet-cough) won't fail alone.

His introduction downplays Momo's accomplishments and skill. Taking her top spot in the Recommendation Exam by turning it into a technicality because he raged quit. (she isn't even in the flashback)

His stupid backstory.

His backstory is so fucking contrived that I almost don't want to even bother going into it.

Firstly, his reaction to Shoto's demeanor is so disproportionate that it's pathetic

Oh boo hoo, your idol was mean to you. Yeah that would work, with anyone but Shouto. It's veery similar to the Hitoshi problem. Where he bases his opinion about something/someone he knows nothing about.

Telling Shoto he's 'just like his father' is probably the worst thing you can tell him.

Secondly, He takes Shoto's reaction/rejection in the worst way possible. If what Enji had done or said had been more severe, then his reaction would be understandable as a trauma response.

However why don't we look at what Enji said:

Presumably he knocked Inasa out of the way, while an incredibly unprofessional and cruel thing to do and say (especially to a child who just wants an autograph). It does not justify his reaction towards Shoto after the entrance exam nor at the licensing exam.

It doesn't justify him throwing away his spot at UA like a child.

And it certainly doesn't justify Inasa antagonizing him in the middle of an exam!

It makes Isana come off as short sighted and inconsiderate, ironically the very same way he views Enji and (because he can't or won't differentiate the two) Shoto.

How I would Write Them

I'm not just going to sit here and moan about how lacking Hori's writing can be at times, no.

I'm going to do something about it.

Genderbend (or trans that gender)

This show is in desperate need of female characters getting the spotlight and being allowed to show their skills.

Change her backstory to emphasize Enji's sexism:

Basically she goes up to Enji after a villain arrest and excitedly tells him about how she's a fan and has been practicing very hard. She creates a decently sized tornado in her palm to show him (not much bigger than a canteen)

He then scoffs dismissively (almost snickering at her) and says something like: "Someone of your constitution would never make it to the top, stay out of the way girl and let the heroes handle it"

he glares at her before walking off with his back turned to her.

He then tosses her notebook back behind his back, burning it's corner in the process by his careless quirk use

(bonus points if the flame is snuffed via landing in a puddle, showing how her dreams were metaphorically "put out".)

Have Shoto's (unintentional) attitude remind her of Enji's insult (by dismissing her accomplishment of besting him [while still losing to Momo)

Make her resemble Rei (but not be related):

Adding another layer of connection and trauma for Shoto.

Have him seek her out instead and make her want nothing to do with him (at least at first, with the exam later forcing them to work together and gain a mutal understanding)

Upgrade her powers to something besides (Wind go wooosh).

This could be anything, personally I'd make it varied, like she's able to both mimic Air Walk and Air Cannon but can also fly around, create tornadoes and even create air pockets. Thus showing her growth and efforts.

I will say this again, Pro. Hero. Family, Make her a legacy kid. Show just how biased Hero Society can be towards those with Heroic ties.

Don't toss her after the arc is done, keep her appearances consistent, yet spaced out.

Have her appear after the Licensing Exam, highlight both 1A's growth by having her grow with them.

I would also merge the remedial course with the Licensing Exam as a sort of second portion that involves showing restraint and kindness, as well as problem solving and situation awareness in a domestic setting.

Showing that heroism is or should be more than just "punch harder, punch with feeling".

Lastly here's the design I came up with and a little information to boot.

(nothing fancy just a head and a 3rd quarter sketch, no Hero costume yet)

Isana Yaorashi, Kanji: 勇渚 (勇: brave, strong, resolute. 渚 ripple or wave (used here as a substitute for "wave" of air) also used to represent the "ripples" Enji's insult had on her life and the she impressions that she leaves on others)

Legacy Child, comes from a long line of heroes, though her parents were not about that life. Her grandfather is the one who recommended her for UA and later Shiketsu: Yoroi Musha.

Holds an intense grudge against Endeavor for his sexism and his careless/cruel tendencies. Isana wishes to show the world that "heat" isn't what makes a hero.

Personality: Very intense, a fighter to her core. Isana seldomly backs down from a challenge, however she's more than willing to push that aside to help someone in need.

Applied for both U.A and Shiketsu in advance, left due to Shoto's attitude being to remincent of an encounter she had with Endeavor's true face during her childhood.

Placed Second in the Recommendation Exam at U.A then dominated Shiketsu's Entrance Exam with a total of 100 points!.

Probably got into fights alot as a kid. Probably for good reason too.

[candycandy00]

Serve Me, Save Me - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 2

After Ryomen Sukuna inadvertently saves you while killing his enemies, you decide to devote yourself to him as a servant. But the trauma from the attack triggers panic when you find yourself in his bed.

Part 1 | Part 2

Smut. 18+. Oral sex. Masturbation. Slow burn. Softer Sukuna than I’ve written before but he’s still a monster. True form Sukuna. Rape and its aftermath feature prominently as a plot device but rape does NOT occur between Sukuna and Reader. Features PTSD, panic attacks, etc.

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts (I have no idea how many there will be), comment to let me know! You must have your age in your bio or intro post or just tell me you’re an adult in the comment! Likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs (especially with feedback in the tags) make me feel all warm and squishy! Seriously any feedback at all is so wonderful! Divider by @benkeibear!

Several days later, when Sukuna went into his bath, he found the same servant preparing the water and laying out fresh robes for him. The heat and the steam in the room had made her skin look dewy, her hair wet. The thin work robe she wore clung to her shape as she moved about the room. 

When she noticed his presence, she bowed, touching her forehead to the floor. “Your bath is ready, my lord.”

He looked down at her as he untied the silk belt around his robe, but before removing the garment, he paused. “You’re the servant who refuses me,” he said. It was not a condemnation, but a statement of fact. If he insisted, she would let him do whatever he wanted. She was too obedient not to. But he didn’t have the patience to deal with whatever trauma that would cause. 

She was otherwise a good servant, keeping the shrine spotlessly clean. Even Uraume had praised her, seeming delighted while reporting that she had organized their spices in a neat and efficient manner and always took care with the plates and utensils while washing them. 

“Go and fetch another servant to attend me,” he said. 

She slowly raised her head. “I can attend you, my lord, if you’ll allow it.”

“I don’t feel like hearing your screeching tonight. Will you go into hysterics again if you see my cocks?”

Her face reddened slightly. “I don’t mind seeing them, my lord.”

He sighed. “Alright then,” he told her, shrugging off his robe. She hurried to retrieve it from the floor, folding it in a quick and deft motion before placing it in a basket by the door. She didn’t stare at his naked form this time, but she certainly wasn’t avoiding it. Her eyes darted all along his body as he sat down on a stone stool and used the readied cloths and soaps to wash himself. 

She didn’t hesitate to come closer, taking a soapy cloth in her hands and using it to scrub his back. He wondered where she’d learned how to wash a man’s back so well, being unmarried. She was using the perfect amount of pressure, moving at the exact speed that felt the most pleasing. 

“You have practice at this,” he remarked. 

“My family owned a bathhouse, my lord. I attended to the customers often,” she said. 

She used past tense. Meaning her family had probably been slaughtered in the attack. Ah well, at least they’d left her with a useful skill. He could feel his muscles relaxing under her ministrations, any tension completely gone. She was very good at this, even knowing the right time to stop and move on to another task without being told. 

She soaped up her hands and then used them to lather his hair. He found himself leaning back slightly, into her touch. He normally washed his own hair, but like with his back, she used skillful motions to make the experience as pleasurable as possible. When finished, she lifted a bucket of warm water as she said, “I’m rinsing now, Lord Sukuna.” Without waiting for his response, and with the practiced ease of someone who had done this countless times, she held the bucket over his head and tipped it forward, spilling the water over his form and washing away the soap. 

He made a mental note to send for her every time he bathed in this village as she stepped around in front of him and offered a warm cloth to wipe his face. She watched him, her eyes flicking down between his thighs. She didn’t look upset or frightened. In fact, she appeared to like looking at his body. 

She lingered in front of him, and when his eyes met hers, her skin looked slightly flushed. “May I… touch you, my lord?”

It was a surprising request, coming from her, but he wasn’t in the mood to tease her. “Do as you wish,” he said. 

She gave a quick bow of thanks, and then got down on her knees, smoothing the fabric of her robe as she scooted in between his spread open legs. She lifted one hand to his upper cock and gripped it softly, her eyes fixed on the organ as it twitched and began to harden under her touch. She stroked it lightly, gently moving her hand up and down the length. His lower cock hardened almost immediately after, eager to be touched as well. She used her other hand to stroke it, using the same rhythm. 

Her feathery touch felt nice, but it was a bit too soft for his taste. “Harder,” he told her, and she looked up at his face. With a hint of a blush on her cheeks, she nodded and took a firmer grip with both hands, moving them up and down at a faster pace. Eventually she paused and looked at his cocks for a moment before leaning forward and licking the upper one, coating it in her saliva. She then went back to stroking the now slick shaft with her hand while she took the lower cock into her mouth. 

The servant’s warm, wet tongue circled the throbbing organ in her mouth, and with her thumb she mimicked the motion on the upper one. Sukuna watched her work, enjoying the way her pretty eyes darted up to his face occasionally, the way her full lips looked wrapped around him. He couldn’t remember the last time a single woman had pleasured both cocks so well at the same time. 

Sukuna leaned his head back, closing his eyes and listening to the wet, slick sounds she was making, feeling her velvety mouth enveloping him, her silky hand stroking him. The lower cock came first, into her hot mouth, and she took in every drop, her throat working to swallow it all. Then, in the next instant, she quickly pressed her tongue to the upper one as it began to shoot out his seed, catching all but a few spurts that landed on her face. 

Looking down at her, he thought she was exceptionally beautiful with his cum dripping from her chin.  She slowly rose to her feet and gave a small bow, then motioned toward the waiting bath. “The water is at optimal temperature now, my lord, if you’d like to enjoy a soak.”

He stood and crossed over to the huge stone basin full of water. Several people could fit inside it at once, but unless someone snuck and used it while he was away, Sukuna was the only person who had ever been in it. He stepped over into the water and lowered himself into it. The water reached his stomach, and was perfectly warmed, with some sort of fragrance drifting into the air. 

As he slid down a bit further into the water and relaxed, he looked at the servant. Across the room, she was wiping her face with a cloth. Her robe was so damp from the moisture in the room that it stuck to her body all over, hugging every curve. After watching her for a moment, he said, “Come join me in the water.”

She lifted her face and looked at him. Several different emotions seemed to flicker in her eyes. Panic, flattery, excitement. But she didn’t move from her spot. 

He sighed. “I won’t touch you.”

Her face seemed to relax. “Thank you, lord Sukuna,” she said with a smile. 

*******************

You opened your thin work robe and slipped it off your shoulders, folding it neatly and dropping it into the basket of used clothing by the door. Fully nude, you walked over to the bath and gingerly climbed into the hot, steaming water. It felt wonderful as you sank down, the water level hitting at just below your breasts. You could slide down further, but you had the feeling lord Sukuna wanted to look at them, so you remained sitting up straight, a few feet away from him. 

“Did the men who attacked you not use your mouth?” he asked suddenly. 

The question shocked you with its abrasiveness. “They did, my lord,” you replied, looking down at the water. 

“And it didn’t bother you to suck my cocks?”

You could feel your face growing hotter. “It didn’t.”

“Hmm,” you heard his voice say. “Then what happened the other night in my bed?”

You glanced up at him. “I think it was being pinned down that triggered the memories of the attack, my lord.”

“I see,” he said, shifting slightly in the water to get more comfortable. “Still, it’s only sex. I don’t understand what’s so frightening about it.”

You’d heard sentiments like that before from other men. “It’s not just sex,” you told him, “it’s a violation. It’s having someone use your body for their pleasure, against your wishes. And in this village, it robs you of your future. I’m a used, broken woman now.”

His eyes had shifted to you again, and you worried that you’d said too much. “What a stupid custom,” he said, surprising you. “Being a virgin does absolutely nothing to increase a woman’s value. If anything, I find them less desirable.”

You blinked, gazing at him with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Of course. What does a virgin know of pleasing a man?”

He probably wasn’t saying it to make you feel better, but you were comforted nonetheless. If the god of your village thought you were still desirable, then maybe you weren’t damaged after all. 

“Thank you for saying so, Lord Sukuna,” you said, dipping your head slightly in a subtle bow. 

He stared at you for a moment, then spoke again. “There’s still one among the attackers of the village I’ve left alive. He’s been useful for extracting information. It would probably be easy to find the families of the men who raped you. I could have them executed or-“

“No, please!” you said, the water around you sloshing as you moved closer to him. When he looked at you curiously, you went on. “I’m glad those men are dead. I’m glad you killed them. But their families did nothing wrong, so I’d like to leave things as they are.”

He shrugged. “If you say so.”

The two of you sat quietly in the water for a while. He laid his head back, and after a few minutes you wondered if he’d fallen asleep. You watched his broad chest rise and fall with his breaths, the water droplets sliding down his neck. He really was glorious. You found yourself rubbing your thighs together under the water. Since the attack, the only times you’d felt aroused were when you with lord Sukuna. 

Silently, careful to avoid disturbing his rest, you slipped your hand down between your legs, then gently rubbed your slick, heated flesh. You’d pleasured yourself occasionally before the attack, but never after. You just didn’t have the urge. Until now, sitting so close to lord Sukuna in the steamy water. 

You pressed one finger inside, leaning your head back and closing your eyes, your breaths hitching in your throat. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

Your eyes snapped open when you heard Sukuna’s silky voice. You looked over to see him wearing a grin. You hastily straightened up in the water. “I’m sorry, my lord, I was just-“

“Don’t stop because of me,” he told you, a look of delight in his red eyes. “Continue if you wish.”

“You’re not offended?” you asked. 

He laughed. “Why would I be?”

“Then, I’ll continue, my lord.” 

Under his crimson gaze, you began touching yourself again, sliding one finger back in, your thumb stroking your clit. Your back arched in the water as you moaned softly. You hadn’t felt this sort of pleasure in so long, and now it was overwhelming. Was it because lord Sukuna was so close, his incredible body almost touching yours? 

You glanced up and met his hungry eyes as you came, your body quivering. You shivered in the water as you came down from the high of your orgasm. The way he was looking at you… it was like he wanted to devour you whole. Something about that thrilled you. 

Later, after you both left the water and dressed in fresh clothes, lord Sukuna turned to you. “From now on, you’ll be my bathing attendant.”

You bowed your head. “It is an honor to serve you, my lord.” 

After he left the room and you began cleaning up, you smiled to yourself. You finally felt like you had a purpose again. And maybe, you thought, you might be called to his bed again some time, and things would be different. Maybe you were beginning to heal. 

[kkvqwrites]

You Flinched | 141 Headcannons

Don't mind me, just some 141 boys reacting to finding out reader has a history of abuse or DV. We all know that our boys would never harm a loved one, but I began thinking about them responding to their loved one being triggered. Because trauma isn't rational.

CW: DV mentioned/alluded to (not on-screen), trauma

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,833

A/N: Yes this is self-indulgent because I have my own history and use my comfort characters to help. So I hope it can help someone else in the same way it helps me. Also forgive me, I threw it together on a whim and didn't really edit it.

Simon "GHOST" Riley

Simon is usually very careful with how he presents. He knows he's big, he knows he's intimidating, and most of all he knows what it's like to be vulnerable and scared of someone bigger than you. He knows when to use his voice/stature to his advantage (like on the battlefield) vs when to tone it down (like in private). He never wants to be scary to those he loves, ever. In fact, he wants his loved ones to have the opposite experience from what he had growing up.

That said, we all have our moments. It was, you both could admit, a silly argument over what ended up amounting to a non-issue. He was fresh back from the field and sleep-deprived and you had had a long shitty day and so a small disagreement became an argument. Somewhere in the bickering Simon decided he was over it. He stood, crumpling the paper he was holding into a fist and raising his voice, which he almost never did.

The combination of the fist and the yelling was what did it. He stood up so tall, so fast, and suddenly you were eight again, hiding in the cupboards and terrified to make a sound. Not knowing what would happen if you were found, but knowing for certain it wouldn't be good. When your parents went into their rages, there was nothing to do but hide and wait it out. As if reciting a dance you knew by heart, you shrank back, hands coming up defensively.

Simon noticed instantly, despite your best attempts to play it off. He knew all too well the look of a terrorized inner child and recognized it immediately in your pale face and shrinking posture. It broke his heart; he immediately regretted lashing out as it was, but this was even worse.

He'd step back, giving you space. He'd ask permission before approaching you and before hugging you, and once you gave it you'd be wrapped in an embrace that was both tender and hard as steel. He'd hold you for a long time, not saying anything. If you cracked and it all came spilling out, he'd listen intently. If you didn't want to talk about it, he'd respect it and not breathe a word about it until you were ready. You could feel in his heartbeat his need to make you feel safe warring with his desire to find whoever made you afraid and teach them a lesson about fear.

Simon is a man of actions, not words, and he's never been a fan of "sorry" and instead prefers follow-through. Now, though, the word poured from his lips. Wrapping your arms around him in return, you forgave him wordlessly.

The next free time you both had, he'd surprise you by taking you to a shooting range. Another weekend, he'd teach you basic knife skills and how to throw a decent punch. If questioned, he'd say it was something he'd been meaning to do for a while with a dismissive shrug. But you had a hunch, even if he couldn't or wouldn't verbalize it, that he was sharing with you the ways he'd learned to overcome feeling powerless when he was younger. By learning to defend and fight back, you could take your agency back and walk into the world unafraid. It didn't matter that he'd grind anyone who bothered you into dust, because it was about you and making you feel empowered. Simon wasn't one to give you bouquets of flowers and poems, but he could give you this. And, slowly but surely, it started to work.

John "SOAP" Mactavish

You and Johnny were out with some mutual friends at the pub one night, drinking and having fun. Your boisterous Scotsman was ever the social butterfly, and he never failed to bring the party wherever he went.

You and a friend were laughing at something on your phone, and when you handed it Johnny to show him, you froze as your eyes saw an unmistakable silhouette over his shoulder. You recovered quickly, sure that it was a mistake, but not quickly enough. Johnny's face went serious as he studied your expression, which was suddenly tense.

You'd play it off, not wanting to ruin the good vibe. You'd even double check to reassure yourself that it wasn't him, but your stomach would sink once you looked back. In a corner of the bar, nursing a glass of dark liquor, was your ex. He noticed you at the same time, and the eye contact made you feel sick.

At this, Johnny would take a look for himself, and would pick out the man eyeing you from across the bar right away. After giving the man a once-over, he'd turn back to you.

"Is that who I think it is?" You'd nod. You had told him bits and pieces of how your ex treated you, but left out the worst of it lest Johnny go on a rampage to defend your honor. He's loyal to a fault and would not take kindly to anyone mistreating people he cared about.

The unfortunate thing was, being special forces came with an ability to read people and situations, and your reaction to seeing your ex filled in the gaps well enough for Johnny to understand what wasn't being said. You were scared, and the man seemed to know it by the smug expression he wore as he stared at you.

Rather than cause a scene, as you had feared, Johnny scooted so he completely blocked your view of the other man (and the man's view of you via his broad shoulders). Seamlessly, he'd continue the conversation with the folks around you as if nothing was amiss, despite his hand never leaving your thigh in a move that was at once possessive and reassuring. You leaned into the touch, comforted by Johnny's presence and relieved that the situation had seemingly blown over.

A bit later, Johnny announced he was going to the bar to get another round for the table. On instinct, your gaze shot to where your ex had been sitting, but his seat was now empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, your eyes turned to follow Johnny through the room. You could never get tired of looking at him. It wasn't until he reached the bar and clapped a fellow patron on the shoulder that you realized the individual he was talking to wasn't the bartender, but your ex who had moved seats. Keeping his hand on the man's shoulder, Johnny struck up a conversation like a true natural.

Oh no.

You braced for a commotion, but Johnny's expression and body language stayed friendly and open. You couldn't hear what he was saying to the man, and if asked he'd tell you he was just introducing himself. But when he let go of your ex's shoulder and flagged down the bartender to order a drink, the other man threw some money onto the bar and all but ran out the door.

The place would become a frequent haunt for your friend group, but you'd never see your ex darken the doorstep again after Johnny's talk with him. Good riddance.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You and Kyle had been going steady for a bit now, and you were excited to introduce him to your family. Well, most of your family. You didn't have a good relationship with your stepdad, and Kyle respected that it was a sore spot for you. He would never pry, but he could pick up on how your tone would change when your stepdad would come up in conversation, how your posture would change when your mom dragged him into the frame to say hello during your video chats.

A big family dinner was the perfect opportunity to introduce everyone to Kyle, and you were looking forward to it. Truly. You had a nice outfit picked out and Kyle bought some fancy wine to bring, hoping for a good first impression. He needn't have worried; your aunts and cousins all fawned over him, and your uncles were endlessly impressed by his stories from his job. Long story short, he was a hit.

He stayed by you all night, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb as he made conversation. At first, you chalked it up to being the new guy in the room, but the ease of his posture suggested he wasn't nervous. Rather, his frequent check-ins started to make it feel like his closeness was for your benefit. You were the one who was nervous, looking over your shoulder every few minutes praying you didn't see a certain face in the crowd. You loved your family, but get-togethers always came with a certain amount of anxiety. Every time your eyes strayed around the room, Kyle's followed, taking in the crowd. Even more frequently, you caught him sneaking glances at you, as if assessing if you were alright.

You were alright, until the front door opened and you heard a specific voice boom in greeting. Your mom and stepdad strode in, late as always, your mom carrying the casserole dish and your stepdad slapping a case of beer on the counter. Your demeanor changed immediately, shrinking yourself as if you could become invisible if you just hunched enough. It didn't work, of course, and they spotted you within seconds. Before you could react, Kyle was in front of you, placing himself between you and your parents with a smile and his hand out to shake.

"I'm Kyle, heard lots about you," he said neutrally, shaking hands with both of them. They turned to you, but Kyle spoke again. "How was the drive? Heard you had to come across that new expressway, have they finished that yet?"

It was like that the rest of the evening. Kyle remained an immovable barrier between you and your stepdad, keeping him engaged in conversation and unable to address you. You and your mom were able to slip away shortly to help set the table and catch up, and every time you snuck a glance at the men out of the corner of your eye, the view was the same: Kyle orienting himself as a physical wall, keeping you out of eyeshot. His body language was at-ease, his smile friendly enough, but his eyes were tight, not like they had been when talking with everyone else.

When everyone grabbed a seat, Kyle pulled a chair out for you before quickly stealing the spot next to you from your stepdad. You looked at him with gratitude and he squeezed your knee reassuringly under the table, all the while maintaining conversations with those around him as if nothing was amiss. If you hadn't already loved him, you certainly would have after that night.

Captain John Price

Ah, spring cleaning.

Well, it was November, but still. It's refreshing to get rid of old stuff and start anew, but it's also essential when you're combining two households. John had finally convinced you to move in with him, so the two of you were creating piles labeled "Keep" "Trash" and "Donate". Upon reaching the bottom of an old box labelled "Miscellaneous," you came upon something that had your stomach churning. Old records: Johnny Cash, the Sex Pistols, the Doors. You hadn't realized you had them, and you weren't particularly fond of who they belonged to.

You didn't realize you had frozen in place until John snapped you out of it, coming up behind you with a hand snaking around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Whatcha got, love?" He whistled when you showed him.

"The condition those are in, you could get a pretty penny. I didn't know you collected vinyl, I'd have bought a player."

"They're not... mine." You explained, as briefly as possible, that they were your ex's and must have gotten mixed up in your stuff when you split several years ago. He hummed in understanding.

"Right, then. To the garbage with it?"

It was the logical solution. He hadn't asked after them, so he must not miss them that badly. You would rather lie down in traffic than have any contact with him. But John's comment about their value stopped you from throwing them onto the "Trash" pile. Damn your too-kind heart, always causing problems.

It was easy enough to find your ex's contact info; you had changed your number after the split, he hadn't. Soon enough, you had agreed on a time for him to swing by and grab the stuff when he was free. The rest of moving made the days go by in a blur of organizing and unpacking and bickering over where the toaster should go and which wall to mount the TV on. That is, until you looked at your calendar and realized that it was today. This afternoon was the interaction you'd spent the week trying not to think about. You'd stepped around the box of his things all week, mentally blocking out why it was sitting in the front hall. You'd managed to stay busy, and bury your anxiety in the endless tasks that come with setting up a new home.

But time had run out, and in mere hours you were going to be face to face with someone you had once sworn never to see again. The realization made the room feel too small, made the air feel too warm, made you feel like you were suffocating. Suddenly you just had to get out.

"We need... yogurt." You blurted, walking too quickly and too loudly into the foyer to grab your keys.

"Yogurt? Right now?" John called from the kitchen.

"Yes, right now! For... for a recipe," you mustered, hoping you sounded convincing. This had been a mistake, a huge mistake, and your brain was screaming RUN! RUN! RUN! as loudly as it could. Hand on the doorknob, however, you froze. If you left, John would be here when your ex arrived. He'd answer the door, introduce himself, and hand off the items. Shouldn't that be ideal? No contact between you and him, simple and easy. But rather than provide relief, the thought made you sick to your stomach. It felt like a defiling almost, to think of him entering your new sanctuary and meeting the love you thought you'd never have. It felt wrong on every level, and your feet rooted to the spot in agreement.

"Still here, love?" John came into view, the book he'd been reading in hand, finger acting as a bookmark. "I was thinking, I could go if you wanted. Just text me what we need. Don't you have someone coming by?"

Yes - that's it, you thought. Have John go, get him away from here before he could arrive. You'd handle it on your own; you'd done it before.

Nodding, you stepped aside, slipping your shoes off next to the door. John put his book down and approached, taking your place and grabbing his keys off the hook. He turned to kiss your forehead, but stopped short and stared at you. He noticed for the first time that you were fidgety, as if anxious for him to leave when usually it was the exact opposite. His ever-observant eyes spent several seconds taking you in, and you knew as he asked the question that he already knew the answer.

"Everything alright?"

Of course it was! How silly to think otherwise! You began playing it off, the same way you had gotten so good at doing back when you and he were still together and your friends would ask you the same thing. Just hyper, just busy, just this, just that, always an excuse to avoid saying "I'm afraid." Afraid of what mood he'd be in, afraid of what awaited you when you two would be alone later. Fear you hadn't felt in a long time, but could feel now just as bone-deep as it had been back then. As if your body had stored it as muscle memory just in case this day came.

"Are you nervous about something?" It was another question you could tell he already knew the answer to, and you wanted to feel irked about it, but looking into those eyes you suddenly just felt tired. Tired of carrying the fear and the uncertainty alone. So you exhaled for a long time, and slowly told him exactly what you were nervous about.

It felt good to get it off your chest. Until now, no one had ever known the extent of what had gone on. You expected John to explode into some fit of hyper-masculine protectiveness like guys on TV, but he didn't. He listened to you talk, and then he nodded and sat on the couch, reopening his book on his lap.

"What are you doing?" You eyed him suspiciously, unable to believe that that was the end of the conversation.

"Well, I'm waiting right here. And when this lad knocks, I'm going to answer the door and have a little chat with him."

[risuola]

RUTHLESS LOVER — F. READER x FUSHIGURO TOJI

Karma is a bitch. That's what they say and yours will be spectacular for the stunt you pulled off. Was it wise to get in the way of the most dangerous contract killer there is? No. Will Toji get his revenge on you? Most likely.

cw: smut, age gap (Toji is about 30 years old, reader is in her twenties), both reader and Toji are contract killers, tiny bit angsty if you squint, violence and blood mentioned, physical abuse on the reader is described briefly (Toji’s angry, okay?), death threats, lovers to enemies and back to lovers kinda situation, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), pet names, reader discretion is advised — 4k words

PROMPTS: 59. Karma is a bitch. 66. I hate trying to put my desire into words when my body knows exactly what to say. Let’s go home. 71. Drop the attitude.

a/n: this piece was requested; I had so much fun writing it! it's long, as usual, because I just love to have some plot in here, hope you don't mind it. enjoy! : D

Being a part of a world of contract killers is something you inherited from your clan. You were given no choice, but to train your strength and skill, build endurance and get rid of most of the human emotions only to become effective as paid murderer. At first, the thought terrified you, even though you were exposed to blood and death from the age as young as five, but seeing it and being responsible for it are two different things. Taking someone’s life was something you couldn’t imagine yourself doing, but you had to – with shaking hands, you shot a man in the head, missing with the first bullet and wasting another one. You were only fourteen, but your hands already were stained red.

Almost a decade later, death doesn’t phase you anymore. Pushing through the trauma, you became one of the very best in the area, almost hundred percent effective, quick and efficient, and what comes with that, very highly demanded and paid. When you turned eighteen, you left your clan and not knowing what to do with your life further, you sticked to one thing you were good at – killing, and you worked on your own from that time on.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, pressing your back against the cold, rough wall. Your fingers grip the gun tightly and you quickly try to think of a way out. This was supposed to be one of those missions that you were most likely going to fail, and you didn't care as long as you got out alive.

"You were so brave back then and now you're hiding?" male voice bounces off the empty corners of the mansion, echoing in such a way that you're not sure where it's coming from. You can't hear his footsteps, but you know he's on the move. "That's disappointing, are you that frightened?"

"Why would I be frightened, huh?" you ask, checking the nearest hallway and making your way through it, slowly and quietly, careful not to make any unnecessary noise.

Situations like this are usually a complication – when two assassins are assigned the same target by two unrelated parties, it often makes things more difficult, but you're used to dealing with that. You're just faster, better at your job, and you can easily take down a grown man in a hand-to-hand encounter, but not this man. Toji Fushiguro is not a man you can take down, no matter how much force you put into it. He's definitely the most wanted criminal of the present time, infamous with high demands and no limits. He's perfect for the job – ridiculously strong, with a body hard and muscular, but insanely fast at the same time. He's bulletproof, he's unbeatable. The definition of a one-man army, he's said to have succeeded in all but one of his missions. A few years ago, it was the biggest assassination of the century in the history of Japan, a group of important politicians made as the target. With an idiotic amount of money thrown into the job, Toji was easily the most logical choice when it came to who to hire. The spectacular failure had almost cost him his reputation and his job, he was absent from the scene for over a year and it was over a year and it was you who was responsible for the unfortunate ending for him.

You were young at the time, in need to make a living after escaping your clan's clutches, and you took small jobs here and there, trying to make a name for yourself in a world full of respectable assassins. Unknown at the time, you wrapped few people around your finger and found out about the ordered assassination of the politicians. This was it; this was your chance not only to earn some real money, but also to secure your position. The job was long-term, it required a lot of research and observation, but you were well aware of Fushiguro, who was chosen to do it in the first place, so instead of racing with him and risking your life by getting in his way, you stripped yourself of all hitman traits and deliberately crossed paths with him. You became lovers. You made him drop his guard, used your charms to get your name off his list of suspects, which cleared the way for you to learn his work plan and everything he had researched. For a few months you've been with him, spending endless nights beneath his powerful body, and when everything was ready, you just ate the cherry off the top of the cake. You made a few crucial alterations to his notes, as subtle as changing the time by a few minutes, but those few minutes gave you an open door to complete his mission. You killed those politicians with clear, long-range shots to the head, took the money for it and planned to leave after that, but Toji had seen you.

"I don't know, you tell me," his deep voice reaches your ears again and you look back nervously, seeing nothing but empty spaces. You hate the echo in this place and you hate how easily Toji's appearance makes you lose your calm. It doesn't happen often, you're usually very composed, you're a cold thinker and emotions never get the better of you, but you're smart. You know when to act with confidence and when to back off, and this situation is definitely the one to back off from. In a close confrontation, you're no match for Fushiguro. "Oh, you must be scared to death as you're tippy-toeing through these corridors, clutching your little gun like it's going to save you."

"Aren't you a little cocky?" you try to keep your voice steady, but the accuracy with which he described you makes you feel uneasy. You look around once more, pushing your senses to their limits to catch anything in the surroundings that might indicate the direction from which his voice came.

"Oh, hardly. I'm just having fun. I've waited so long to finally meet you again. I must admit, the stunt you pulled on me was quite impressive, I did not see it coming," you can hear the amused tone in his voice, it sounds almost sadistic and you can easily imagine his lips curling into a smirk.

When Toji realized that his little girl, the one he thought would one day become his wife, was the person behind his failure, his blood boiled. He allowed himself to be a pawn in your hands and you took almost everything from him, so he promised revenge and researched you for months. The more he learned, the more it made sense, but it also impressed him in a way. Remembering how easy it is to snap and bend your body to his liking, he couldn't help but be in awe of the fact that you were capable of taking down a gang all by yourself or pull off dangerous missions completely alone. His attraction to you grew the more he got to know about you, and if it weren't for the mistake you made when planning your little mischief, he'd probably propose right away.

"I could have dropped a building on your head and you wouldn't have noticed," you snapped with a little too much courage even for your own liking, and the laughter that followed your little statement only reassured you of how screwed you were.

"A lil' mouthy, aren't we?" He laughs, and once again you turn around at the faint rustle behind you.

"Would you prefer me to shut up?"

"Oh no, speak while you still can," his voice rumbles against the walls again and you are sick of the game. Your own senses betray you and you move forward, almost running, while clutching the weapon he has already pointed out to be useless against him.

"Is the threat to crush my throat on the table, or do you mean my death in general?"

"There are so many delightfully horrible things I could do to you, I am not sure which one to choose."

God, how much you hate this. Pictures of many terrifying, spine-chilling punishments run through your mind, and at this point you give up the job completely.

"To be perfectly honest, I thought you had retired from the field," you tell him, calculating the possibility of outrunning him. "After the most spectacular failure in the history of failures, I assumed you wouldn't be showing up again."

"I wouldn't worry about that, sweetheart. If I were you, I would worry about myself."

"You're just a talker, Fushiguro. I'm not afraid of an old fart like you."

"Drop the attitude."

The split second you had before receiving the hardest blow to the stomach you'd ever experienced was nowhere near enough to react. It sent you flying many meters away, and the impact ripped a hole in the thin wall you hit with your back. Your vision goes blurry as you land on the marble floor, surrounded by luxuriously wallpapered debris, and for a moment you think this is it. Everything hurts, you feel as if all your insides were broken by that one blow. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth and you cough, turning your body to the side, you feel like throwing up, but only red comes out of your throat.

"Did it hurt?" the man steps through the hole and it's the first time you've seen him since the day you took his job years ago. He looks even taller than you remember, the black short-sleeved shirt clinging to his bulging muscles as he makes his way towards you, and as if your limbs were unconsciously moving, you try to slide away from him. "Poor little thing, not so brave now, are you?" he taunts and you remain silent, aware of how every word can be used against you. "Cat got your tongue?"

You move away, but he grabs your ankle and pulls you in. His long fingers claw at your cheeks as he reaches up and looks at you with amusement, pulling your face in front of his own. "See, sweetheart, karma is a bitch, and yours will be just as spectacular as the stunt you pulled on me."

Helplessly, you grip his thick forearm, hoping to force the dead grip on your face to loosen, but to no avail. His strength is unparalleled and you are damned. You put everything you've got into the kick that lands cleanly on his chest and he lets go of you, unimpressed by the attack. He doesn't even flinch, but with the freedom you've earned, you just run away, desperately trying to put as much distance between you and him as humanly possible. Maybe if you could somehow get to the airport and fly to the other side of the world, you'd be safe for a while?

"Do you really think I'm going to let you run away again?" he grows in front of you out of nowhere and you barely manage to stop yourself before running straight into his chest. With how ripped he is, that alone would probably break a nose. "No, there's no way out for you, princess," his lips are curled into a grin so cold it could freeze the blood in your veins, and before you can turn around, his big hand is wrapped around your neck. He pushes you against the wall, this time it's concrete, but it still cracks from the force he's used. It's getting harder to breathe, you feel like your throat is going to be crushed any second. "You should just say you're sorry and I might consider not strangling you to death."

"I'm sorry," you choke out almost too fast, too desperate, and he laughs out loud.

"You'd do anything I told you to save yourself, wouldn't you?" he mocks, but the hold on your neck loosens just enough to allow the slightest flow of air through your windpipe. "If I told you to suck my dick, would you get down on your knees?"

You don't reply, you don't even know how to reply. The answer is obvious, you would definitely give him a head if it would convince him to spare your life, but you know it wouldn't be a deal breaker. It would just be a power move before he threatens you some more and you don't want to give him the satisfaction of using you if his plan is to torture you further.

"No," you finally mutter, digging your nails into his forearm, but instead of letting go, he tightens his grip around your neck, making you whimper and squint. "T-toji-"

"Look what you've done, that's going to leave a bruise for sure," he chuckles, throwing you to the side like a rag doll. Your weight is nothing to him, but you feel it when it hits the ground.

"Fuck..." you exhale and pull yourself up as fast as you can, both ashamed and angry at how helpless you are against him. Two decades of training, hundreds of men you've taken down with nothing but your bare hands, and now you can't do a goddamn thing. Pathetic.

Fed up with your own behavior, you decide to try and fight. If there's no way he's going to let you out alive, you might as well cause him some trouble. Any trouble. And so, you engage him in hand-to-hand combat, making sure to dodge each of his blows and land yours cleanly. Your fists and kicks hit his body but do no damage. It's as if he's allowing your punches to connect with his form, as if he's having so much fun and it's getting on your nerves. You use everything in your path – dishes fly, doors slam, glass shatters and chairs are thrown, but when the wooden stool breaks, easily stopped by Toji's forearm, you're lost.

Once again you find yourself against the wall, only this time his body is pressed against yours without any additional hurt being inflicted. He keeps you pinned down and you can hear his heartbeat, feel the bulging erection resting on your stomach and you look up to see his face. His black hair hangs loosely over his dark green eyes, his gaze jumping from your eyes to your parted lips as you pant shallowly.

"To be honest, I don't give a fuck about what you did," he finally admits, lowering his head enough to plant a kiss on the corner of your lips. "I want you back. Is that something you'd want, too?"

"Does my life depend on how I answer?" you ask quietly, your hands landing on his sides. You feel the hard muscle that seems to surround his entire body, it's almost too impressive to be real.

"No. I'm not going to kill you. I've already taught you a lesson, you won't mess with me again."

"I won't," you agree, feeling your body deflate. The tension that kept you stiff and afraid almost painfully, leaves your form and you lean into him. "Then I want you back, too."

"Great." Toji's lips fall upon yours and you give in instantly, a soft moan rumbling in your chest as his skilled mouth molds to yours, as if he was created to kiss you. One of your hands cups his face while the other runs through his raven locks, soft as silk, and you grab a handful of them, pulling him away before you get too lost in the feeling. He groans in discontent, looking down at you with the expression of a child whose toy has been taken away. With your thumb, you wipe away the red residue of your blood that remains on his lower lip.

"We should get out of here," you tell him, and he rolls his eyes, but agrees. "And then you'll tell me how much you've missed me."

"I hate trying to put my desire into words when my body knows exactly what to say," he chuckles, scooping you up in his arms as if you're nothing but air. "Let's go home."

The ride home is quick, too quick in fact, not giving you enough time for the pain in your stomach to subside, but you can't focus on that too much when he's all over you as soon as the doors to his apartment close. Toji's hands push your clothes away, pulling and tugging at the many layers of fabric you have on, and you can hear loose buttons bouncing off the wooden floor as he leads you toward the bedroom. You know the place, it's the same one you spent many long months in before you ran away from him.

"Toji," you whisper as he slides his hand down your unbuttoned pants, right into your underwear, and the sudden pressure he deftly applies over your clit makes your body shudder from the unexpected wave of euphoric impulses. He knows your buttons, he knows how to push them to rid you of any composure, and he uses that knowledge to the fullest.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he responds to his name, his lips brushing your ear as you cling to his enormous bicep for dear life. "Talk to me, does it feel good?"

"Oh yes," you mutter, determined not to be the only one stuttering, so you lower your hand, your fingers slipping easily under the waistband of his gray pants and through the fabric of his boxers you feel the shape of his cock. It's rock hard, struggling to find enough room in the trap of his underwear, and as you stroke it with your warm palm, a low growl escapes his mouth. Taking it a step further, you push the cotton down and your breath hitches at the sight of his erection springing free, the sheer heaviness of the girth making it impossible for him to fully stand up.

"Like what you see?" he teases, sliding one of his long fingers through your folds and into your hole, curling it so perfectly that you moan against his muscular chest. With ease, Toji lays you down on the dark sheets on his bed, not stopping his handy work for a split second before hovering over you, his lips glued to the soft skin above your neck. Quickly it's clear that the marks will last for days, but that is the last thing you can worry about when his fingers are stretching you so lovely.

You push your pants down, desperate to give him more space, and he gets the hint, pulling them along with your panties off with a sharp tug of his free hand. Pleased with how eagerly you spread your legs for him, he hums against the dip of your shoulder, a grin painting his expression in amusement as he adds two more fingers. They slip right in, your slick covering them right away, and you whimper, digging your fingernails into his strong arms. All your mind can focus on is the irresistible want to have his dick inside you, you need it and everything that comes with it – the burning pain, the roughness, the bites and bruises. Toji Fushiguro is a ruthless lover, he's able to set all your nerves ablaze, to make your mind blank, make you forget your own name.

The warmth piles up in your stomach, you slowly fall into a trance as he abuses the sweet spot inside you and you don't even notice how he moves down your body. The realization hits you when his tongue flicks against your clit and your whole body shudders at the new layer of pleasure. The satisfied smile never leaves his face as he looks up at your worn-out self while he's working on the nerve bud. His fingers move and twist inside you as he sucks, licks and kisses simultaneously, taking away your breath and any last shred of composure. He's savoring the sweetness, the taste driving him wild and he knows how close you are, the muscles of your insides squeezing his fingers in waves, your thighs trembling against his broad shoulders and your fingers clawing at the sheets with crashing force.

His name rolls off your tongue in a breathy way and he hums against your clit, the vibration sending you over and pulling you under the ocean of endorphins. You come onto his mouth, his fingers covered in white and all you can see is stars. Short pants and broken breaths leave your parted mouth as he presses his own against them in a sloppy, messy kiss. Toji kicks off his own pants and gives himself a few pumps before sliding the head of his cock along your folds.

You whimper into the kiss, slipping your hands under the black t-shirt, desperate to feel his body. With a brief pause, he breaks the connection between your mouths to remove the rest of clothes and you give in, taking the moment to catch your breath.

"Fuck," you cry out, your back arching, your head falling back at the feeling of burning stretch as he pushes his size into you. It hurts, but the pain is delicious, it makes you want more and he gives you just that. He grunts low and gravelly as he collapses onto one of his elbows, overwhelmed by the tight squeeze of your warm hole and as he bottoms out, he takes a second to collect himself. It would be unacceptable if you milk him so quickly, just with the mind-blowing sensation of your cunt.

"So tight," he purrs against your neck, pulling one of your thighs over his hip. Your lips collide again and he rolls his hips for the first time, teasingly pulling all the way out only to push back in one swift motion. He does this several times before finally setting a pace that has you holding onto his shoulders just to steady yourself. With the strength of his body, his thrusts are ruthless, almost violent, but it's the roughness that makes him such a great lover. The intensity of his fat cock almost tearing you in half is what gives you the highest highs and he knows exactly how to use his girth to fuck you stupid.

You're whimpering into his lips, your body shaking beneath him as he rolls his pelvis, angling his hips so he can kiss every sensitive spot inside you with every thrust. The power of his pistons increases. Drinking in your reactions, he feels himself growing, his cock twitching and flexing in your warm embrace, a white coating forming at the base of his cock and he feels lightheaded.

Grabbing both your knees, Toji presses them almost to your ears, your calves hook over his shoulders and as he rams his length into you, you feel like you're going to pass out from the sheer amount of stimulation. With each stroke, his body bounces off your clit, the sound of skin slapping fills the bedroom and you feel yourself squirming as your legs tremble and your breath stutters. You're close and he knows it, the smirk on his lips giving it away as he takes in the sight of you losing every last bit of connection to the real world.

It only takes a few more unforgivable, deep slams of his cock against your sweet spot to have you shaking violently. It's too much, the feeling of him stretching you to the very brink and the heat surges through your veins, setting your body alight as pleasure erupts. The overwhelming wave of euphoria makes drown in the blissful haze as you feel the orgasm unfolding and he thrusts his hips through it, chasing his own release.

As Toji cums inside you, pumping his warm load into you, you come once more, much weaker, but for your overstimulated body it feels like an explosion all over again. A mixture of broken pants fills the room as the wet, sex sounds fade away. Toji pulls out and flips you both over so that you can lie on top of his body instead of him collapsing upon yours, possibly crushing you with his weight.

His demeanor changes completely, with aftercare he's gentle, his hands soft on your skin as he caresses you. “I missed you,” he whispers against your hair, planting soft kisses on the top of your head and you smile.

“I missed you too, Toji.”

[communistkenobi]

genuinely curious, if you think "it's a girl!" and "it's a boy!" categorisations are inherently oppressive, do you believe a world where gender isn't recognized in any meaningful way before the child has means to define it for themself to be the best alternative?

I’m going to use a different abolitionist example to illustrate what I mean: when people advocate for abolishing the nuclear family, they are not saying “get rid of parental relationships” or “get rid of fathers.” They are identifying a specific social relation that is used as a building block of society and advocating for a world where it doesn’t exist, because its existence is the foundation of certain forms of oppression. The western social model where children are raised in private detached housing by a maximum of two parents (and realistically, mostly by their mother - a huge problem in itself!) who have complete control over their material, emotional, and social needs produces a fucking huge amount of adverse outcomes - abuse, trauma, dysfunction, poor health - the list is nearly infinite. And this family model also inherently reproduces class, race, and gender by virtue of the fact that children inherit those things from their parents and are forced to exist in those contexts. And even in individual cases where it doesn’t produce abuse, even if you have very good parents who are not abusive to you in any way, that social relationship is still oppressive, in the same way that having a cool boss doesn’t mean that wage labour is good. A society where children are not entirely dependent on one or two people for all of their needs, where they are free to form meaningful relationships with adults outside of strict categories of family, where children are not legally and socially treated like the property of their parents, where bloodline is not privileged as the dominant mode of intergenerational transfer of knowledge, culture, skill, wealth, etc, is a much better world!

“Gender abolition” is, I think, a poor term for a similar goal, and one that has a lot of reactionary baggage (baggage that is not coincidental - I think its imprecision as a term is useful for terf politics). Abolition of patriarchy is probably more precise - I am advocating for a world where gender is entirely non-coercive, where gender does not produce any oppressive social relations. You can engage in gender as a culture in the same way you can engage with different forms of art, in a way that is purely voluntary. This configuration does not prohibit the possibility of trans people; we would just exist in an entirely different form than the current western, medicalist, patriarchal, white supremacist context we are forced to navigate.

So yes, I think for gender to be truly emancipatory, it needs to be engaged with as a voluntary form of human culture, as a form of art that we do with ourselves and our bodies, and to do this we need to abolish sex distinctions on medical records, gender markers on state documents, gendered facilities, and many, many other things.

[lesbianslovebts]

I love how the Beyond Evil fandom has such diverse ideas about Lee Dongsik and Han Juwon's sexual dynamics. One interpretation I've seen is the older, more experienced man teaching the younger one, but other people headcanon Dongsik as inexperienced and/or having sexual dysfunction due to his grief and trauma. I like both of these interpretations, but I want to discuss another possibility.

Imagine Lee Dongsik moving to Seoul and working with the RIU. He grew up in a small town plagued with horrific memories where every single person knew his face, his name, his house, his parents, his sister, his trauma. But here in the big city, nobody knows who he is, and frankly, no one cares. He's anonymous in this new landscape, and even though he brought his baggage with him, this is the first time he can try to build his own identity.

Now, assuming Dongsik is gay and has related religious trauma (since he wouldn't even go to his grandmother's memorial), this is also the first time he's in a place with other people like him. I think the desire to experiment would be irresistible. However, I doubt he would've been capable of doing so in a healthy way. Dongsik is a person who does things for other people with no regard for the toll it will have on him. He gives and gives until there is nothing left. I can picture him doing the same in bed.

I'll put the rest under the cut because it might be triggering. Essentially, I'll be talking about sex as self-harm.

I see Dongsik as a man who bends and breaks himself to be whatever his bed partner wants. He does what is asked of him regardless of how it affects him mentally, physically, and emotionally. If he's with a cruel top, he's a passive bottom who doesn't speak up when it hurts, can't stay hard, and doesn't get off. If he's with a bottom who wants it to hurt, he'll slap and choke and fuck until they're satisfied, never mind the amount of alcohol he has to drink afterward to forget it ever happened. In other words, he doesn't set any boundaries to protect himself, and the men he sleeps with take advantage of that, knowingly or not.

This form of self-harm by proxy stems from Dongsik's extremely low self-worth and exacerbates it. He becomes disconnected from his body and dissociates during sex. He doesn't even know his own preferences and struggles to differentiate between pleasure and pain. It's a vicious cycle that starts and ends with trauma, but he can't imagine sex any other way.

Therefore, when he becomes intimate with someone who genuinely cares about him and his wellbeing (i.e., Han Juwon), it's terrifying. He has to reconnect with his body, develop communication skills, and unlearn old habits. All of these are difficult, overwhelming tasks. It would take time and require patience on both sides.

And though I headcanon Juwon as having no prior experience, his approach to exploring sexuality is healthier and more mature. In a sense, Juwon would be starting from the very beginning, and Dongsik would be starting over with him. They both need to learn what they like, what they don't, and how to communicate that. It wouldn't be perfect because nothing is, but I think Juwon would be the direct, honest, thorough lover that Dongsik deserves. Likewise, I know Dongsik would be the warm, reassuring lover that Juwon deserves.

This is the history I have in mind as I write my own fic "No Wound Too Deep, These Scars Will Keep." Let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, or DMs. I am always open to JWDS discussion!

[mywingsareonwheels]

This may be a controversial opinion on the "judge both others and yourself as harshly as possible" site, but:- extending compassion to yourself when you've hurt someone else is a pragmatic, good and moral thing to do.

because you don't stop deserving compassion just because you've fucked up, that's just not how it works

because literally everybody fucks up sometimes *including the person you've just hurt*, it is alas a side-effect of being a human being

because extending compassion is a skill that takes practise, and getting good at it when it's difficult is a worthy aim, and it'll help you also have compassion for others when *they* are fucking up (which is also a good thing, in case that need saying...)

because while it's entirely possible to have compassion for others but not yourself, it's way way easier to do both

because compassion isn't the same as making excuses, and it is entirely, *entirely* possible to have compassion for yourself and still seeing what you did wrong and being sorry that you did and caring deeply about the effect it had on the other person

because beating yourself up makes you much, much likely to overreact, and to make your negative feelings about yourself the problem of the person you've just hurt (oh, ask me how I know...)

because unless the other person is lost in their angry and hurt feelings (which isn't something you should encourage however badly you fucked up), it's vanishingly unlikely they'll benefit in any way from you suffering

because if you have any kind of trauma history around being disproportionately punished for any wrongdoing, that's a thing you deserve to heal from and extending compassion to yourself at times like this is an excellent step forward

because you don't deserve to make yourself suffer disproportionately now

because once you're at ease with yourself and no longer scared of out-of-control retribution, you can centre the feelings of the person you've hurt and extend whopping amounts of compassion towards them, and focus on whatever it is they need

and once you've done that, again, the more at ease with yourself you are, the easier it's going to be for you to later check in with what went wrong and work at whatever you need to work on to make you less likely to make that mistake again.

TDLR: self-compassion when you've hurt someone else is good because a) you always deserve to give yourself compassion even when you've done something wrong, b) it'll make it much easier for you to handle things well and be really considerate and compassionate and truly apologetic (as opposed to self-hating) towards the person you've just hurt, and then c) it'll also make it much easier for you to work towards doing better.

It's win/win. Remember: suffering is not intrinsically virtuous. Doing right by yourself and others is. <3

[reimeichan]

I was diagnosed with severe combined type ADHD well into my adulthood. The many years of undiagnosed ADHD has a major source of my trauma, and I hate it so much.

I know a lot of people think of ADHD as a silly, quirky disorder. Someone with ADHD has trouble sitting still, has focus issues, has short term memory problems, etc. None of this sounds like anything so bad on the surface.

What people often don't see is... how people like me are treated.

(tw child abuse ahead)

Growing up, I was often punished and berated for things that "normal" kids could handle. I constantly forgot my homework, couldn't get the executive functioning to start on projects until the last minute, would be so hyperfocused in a book that I would miss dinner, be unable to sit still long enough to practice piano, etc. And each time that happened, I would be punished for it. Hit, spanked, yelled at, grounded, belongings destroyed... it was constant, daily punishment. It felt like I could do nothing right. Pretty much all of my punishable actions could be tied in some way to my undiagnosed ADHD.

It was genuinely awful and I have a lifetime of trauma from that. I'm scared of even shaking my foot when I'm by myself in my own room, I feel guilty for spending any amount of time reading or playing video games. I beat myself up for my lack of executive functioning. And my parents never, ever tried to help me learn those skills. All they did was try to beat those "habits" and beat the "laziness" out of me. And tell me that "all kids experience that, you're just making excuses" (I now know that ADHD is often found within the same family, and I highly suspect at least one of my parents to have it as well to the point they normalized their own experiences).

I can genuinely say that many of my mental health disorders (the DID, the depression, the anxiety, the suspected NPD, and anything else I've missed) can all be tied back to my undiagnosed and unmanaged ADHD, and all the trauma that came with that. Hell, even into adulthood, I struggle more with my ADHD symptoms than I do with anything else. If anything, the other things just further exacerbate my ADHD struggles. It genuinely sucks.

This isn't to say I find all aspects of my ADHD bad. I genuinely enjoy the hyperfocus (when it's hyperfocus on something I actually want to hyperfocus on). I think the way my brain jumps from topic to topic, connection to connection, has made me more creative than many of the people around me. And it's very much a part of me that makes me kind of uniquely "me". But also... I know it's such a big part of my trauma history that to try to paint it as this positive thing in my life would be a lie.

But yeah. I wish we talked more about how traumatizing living with ADHD is.