#tw imbalanced power dynamics

[searenbound]

Thinking about stepbrother Touya again.

About how he tries to convince himself this is still just a little game to him. That his doll is just that, a doll a fun little toy to use until he gets bored.

Unfortunately for him, he’s developed feelings for her. Possessive ones sure, but still feelings he can’t ignore.

So when she starts pulling away from him and wising up that something is fundamentally wrong about this situation, and for the first time in a while he experiences panic. He refuses to accept it though, if she wanted out than good riddance

It started with new friends she’s made in that new college she started in. That was fine at first. She would only spend a few hours with them and come back to him afterwards.

But then they started inviting her out and he didn’t even get the chance to talk her out of it so she can stay in his room that night instead.

Then she started showing up at the same parties he did and was to worried about what her stupid little friends would think or say if she sneaked off with him to go hook up.

Then other men started getting bold and trying to make a move on her.

Now that pissed him off.

She wants to treat him like an old phase and ice him out, fine! He’ll burn that bridge for her, see how she is when he cuts her off completely. See who cares then.

It barely lasts a week or two before she comes pouting and crying about how he doesn’t like her anymore.

“Oh? So I guess all those times you chose someone else over me wasn’t worse? I haven’t been talking to or fucking anyone else, but I’m the bad guy here? Fucking hypocrite”

“Touya-nii I—”

“Save it, I don’t want to hear about how you didn’t think it would matter or whatever bull—“

“You didn’t correct me. I call you Touya-nii and you’re supposed to scold me for it because you’re just Touya. My Touya”

He doesn’t know how to proceed from here. He’s supposed to have the power in this, and yet here she is, pulling at heart strings he thought he burned off.

He guessed he could bring her to bed and wreck her for anyone else. To reestablish his power over of course. It doesn’t matter that he might have meant it when he said he loved her back when she started babbling about all that mushy stuff

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Rapunzel, Rapunzel.

Pairing: Yandere!Vil x Reader x Yandere!Rook (TWST).

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Loose Tangled AU, Prolonged Captivity, Violence (Magic and Physical) and Blood, Dehumanization, Imbalanced Power Dynamics, Vil and Rook Are Making Out In The Corner While Reader's Having The Worst Day Of Their Life, and Manipulation.

The arrows hurt more than the fall.

The fall, you’d been expecting. Rook might’ve been able to scale the tower with little more than a dagger, a few footholds chipped into the weathered stone, and a burning curiosity, but you weren’t so graceful, didn't have the luxury of the physique you might've, had you not spent the last eighteen months restrained to a handful of rooms. You knew that you wouldn’t have the time to be as careful as you needed to be, that you’d be fortunate to make it off of your windowsill before losing your grip, and when the time came to let go and pray you broke an arm rather than a leg, you were ready. You could brace yourself. You could see the threat looming ahead of you, and as Vil called your name in the distance, you were able to fall into its open arms of your own volition.

The arrows weren’t something you’d thought to ready yourself for. Vil’s poison, maybe, the weight of his newest curses being etched into the fabric of your being, but not a weapon, not the sting of piercing metal burrowing into the back of your shoulder, then the plush of your side. Even then, you did what you could to keep running, to move forward through the dense forest despite the jagged rocks and winding brambles cutting through the flesh of your bare feet. You didn’t know where you were going, let alone what to do when you reached your nebulous destination, but you didn’t have to. You needed to get away from Vil’s tower – that was it. You could figure out what to do next after you’d escaped him.

With that in mind, you pushed yourself to run faster, to ignore the pain racing through your upper body as you put a few more steps between yourself and the ever-shrinking tower that sat above the treetops, but even that was an effort cut short. There was a bolt of searing pain, a white flash playing across your vision. Your left leg was buckled underneath you, leaving you crumbling to the ground with a broken, ragged scream. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to swallow the sound back before it could force its way out of your chest, but whether or not someone heard you didn’t really matter. You’d seen him shoot hawks out of the sky mid-flight, thread darts through the eye of needles sitting yards away. Rook wouldn’t fire unless he had his target in sight. He’d known exactly where you were the moment drew his bow. This was just his way of letting you believe you’d ever stood a chance.

This was just his way of letting you believe he’d ever been on your side. 

You pulled your injured leg into your chest, fighting to hold back the pained tears welling in the corners of your eyes. You were tempted to stop restraining yourself altogether and cry until the agony subsided, but your hunter emerged from the foliage before you could start to truly wallow if your self-pity. If he’d wanted to, he could’ve approached you silently, been on top of your fallen body before you so much as noticed he was within arm’s length, but Rook made no effort to conceal his presence. If anything, he seemed to want you to know exactly where he was. There was a deep laugh, the muffled sound of a longbow being swung over his shoulder, the feeling of his body blocking out what little light the setting sun still hard to offer, and then, he was crouching in front of you. A gloved hand cupped your chin as he looked down on you with the same adoring, love-stricken expression he always seemed to wear. You’d always done what you could to return it, in the past, to think of it as a glimpse of sunlight in the darkness that was your life with Vil, but now, it was all you could do to glare and look away.

“Merveilleux.” He wasn’t out of breath, but his voice was airy – barely more than a whisper. His leather-wrapped knuckles ran over your cheek, just as slowly and just as adoring as they had on the day you met – the day you’d woken up to the first stranger you’d seen in weeks kneeling at your bedside, idly stroking your hair and complimenting your lovely (albeit, quite difficult to reach) home. You’d tried to warn him away, to tell him what Vil had done to all the other adventurers and heroes who’d so much as approached his tower, but he refused to listen. If Vil hadn’t taken such a liking to him, he’d be little more than a pile of ash you’d have to sweep up the next day, or better yet – another withering rose left in your windowsill to warn away the next intruder. Vil always did have a flair for the romantic, but he and Rook seemed to have that in common.

He'd changed, since that day. When you first met him, he’d been rough around the edges, his hair uncombed and his skin as calloused as it was burnt. His clothes had been nothing short of a travesty – threadbare and ill-fitting, repaired a thousand times over by someone clearly not used to mending. Now, he was just as much of an embodiment of Vil’s ideals as you were: his hair grown out long and restrained by a violet ribbon, his freckles faded and framed by neatly cut bangs, his clothes of all the same dark silks and pristine furs as Vil would’ve chosen for himself. He was as much of a pet as you were, really. The only difference was how enthusiastically Rook embraced his role and how desperately you tried to escape yours.

“In fact,” he went on, his eyes drifting to the arrows still lodged in your back, your thigh. “I don’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful. A damsel pulled from the pages of the most wonderful sort of fairytale, truly.”

“Go fuck yourself.” And then, with a half-choked snarl, “You were supposed to— I thought you were trying to help me—”

“Ah, the searing heat of rage! It shades the color of your eyes with such life.” Rook clicked his tongue, his grin taking on a wry lull. His hand fell from your chin to the collar of your blouse, toying with the mangled fabric as he spoke. “A poor dove, fallen from its nest. Don’t worry, petit oiseau – I’ll make sure you get home before the wolves find you.”

He moved to take you in his arms, but you did what you could to shamble away from him despite your limited mobility. It was difficult to speak, your ribs having taken the brunt of your initial fall and endured further abuse during his first volley of arrows. It was difficult to meet his eyes, knowing what he’d taken away from you, but you forced yourself to do both. You tried to remind yourself that it was still Rook, that you were still facing down the man who’d held you in his arms as you cried, who told you stories of heroes and villains and happy endings when you began to think you might die in captivity, but fond memories were difficult to recall when his arrows were still embedded in your flesh. “You said that— You said that the prince would distract the witch as her captive escaped,” you spat, already aware of how juvenile you sounded, trying your best to stumble through the same story he’d told you a thousand times. You’d taken it as a code, treated it as if you were both colluders in the same scheme, but an ever-growing part of you was starting to think that his stories had only ever been that – stories. “Why didn’t you distract him?” When Rook failed to answer, you bared your teeth. “Were you ever trying to help me escape?”

There was a beat of silence, of stillness. A rabbit rustled somewhere in the underbrush, a robin called out to its mate, and Rook sighed, shaking his head with the kind of humored exasperation a parent might show to a child who just asked about something very, very silly.

He didn’t just toy with your ragged collar, now, but caught it – taking it in his fist and pulling you upright. With his free hand, he took the shaft of the arrow embedded in your shoulder and pulled it free, the head catching under your skin and rendering everything it touched a bloody mess of gore and viscera. The same process was carried out with the arrow embedded in your side, this one accompanied by a searing burn, another second taken to twist the arrowhead free of your skin. You weren’t able to hold back your tears by the end of it, no matter how tightly you clenched your eyes shut, no matter how much it hurt to dig your teeth into the side of your cheek and will yourself not to break down in front of him, not to lose the last semblance of control you had, under Vil’s care.

“I never lied to you,” he said, as he took up the shaft of the third arrow – the one plungest deepest into your thigh. “You know what Vil would do if you didn’t return. I promised you a happy ending, and this is how I intend to give you one.”

With no hesitation, no effort to clot the blood flowing in thick streams from your gaping wounds, he pulled the last arrow free. You let out a fractured wail, doubling over and attempting to curl into yourself, but Rook was already there, already pulling you into his chest as you sobbed openly, freely. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him pull a hunting knife from his belt, the silver of the blade tinted a deep, shimmering violet. You went stiff, but there was little you could do. There was a flash of light caught on steel, a nick of pain in the side of your neck, and then, you were limp in Rook’s arms, quickly losing consciousness as he pulled you against his chest and started towards the tower.

~

You felt velvet against your cheek, first.

Crushed, cool, deceptively soothing – you recognized it immediately, an image of one of Vil’s favored robes surfacing in your mind against your will. Next were the bandages wrapped around your shoulder, your waist, your thigh, then the fur rug underneath you, that of some great beast a would-be hero had once brought to try and rescue you. Vil had wanted to mount the prince’s head on a pike at the base of the tower, but you’d begged him not to, and he’d taken the monstrous stead’s pelt as a trophy, instead.

You took a long, quiet moment to collect yourself, to bask in the last peaceful moment you were likely to have, but your tranquility was quickly interrupted by the feeling of a wooden comb raking through your hair and over your scalp, the teeth dulled by use and the shape familiar enough to make you shudder involuntarily. Vil’s airy laugh played in response, paired with the last traces of Rook’s muttering voice. A new addition, one that left the taste of bile rising up from the back of your throat. One you never wanted to acknowledge again. “I know you’re awake, little one. Might as well face the light now.”

He said that, but when you finally forced yourself to open your eyes, you found that was no light to face aside from the flame of a low-burning candle sitting on a nearby table and the silver-tinted glow emanating from your hair. Clearly, your unconsciousness hadn’t been a good enough reason for Vil not to refresh his eternal youth, tonight.

He’d positioned you as he always did – at his feet, on your knees, with your head resting in his lap. Despite how close you’d come to getting away from him, his expression betrayed no panic, only confident serenity and the slightest trace of smugness. As was to be expected of him. Vil found joy in very little, but somehow, he always seemed to take a certain amount of pride in your defeat.

Your defeat, and your horror. He’d calmed over the course of your captivity, but you could still remember how he’d lorded over you during your first days in his tower, how open he’d been about just how long he’d spent peering your lonely little life in your lonely little cottage, content in the knowledge that no company meant there’d be no one to exploit your magic. Vil hadn’t just ruined that, he’d done it with zeal.

“Raise your head.” It was a command, because Vil didn’t make requests. Reluctantly, you obeyed, and Vil took you by the jaw with one hand, brushing your hair away from your face with the other. Your hair was damp, your ruined clothes exchanged for a black nightdress, simple in design but impeccably crafted. You couldn’t bring yourself to be surprised. Vil’s standards for you were only second to only those he held for himself. It was more than likely that you hadn’t made it more than a step into the tower’s walls before Vil deemed you in need of one of his ice-cold baths and something more presentable to wear. “No cuts,” he went on, turning your head to either side. “But more bruises than I care for. Couldn’t you have been more gentle?”

You opened your mouth, but Rook answered on your behalf. You could remember, only days ago, being thankful beyond words to have a buffer between yourself and Vil, but now, you couldn’t say you felt anything beyond resentment. “The lasting evidence of a struggle can add a rugged undertone to one’s charm. And oh, if only you could’ve seen the way they struggled!” He was behind you, holding you up, on arm wrapped around your waist and his legs spread around you. He leaned forward as he spoke, his chest slotting loosely against your back, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “It was fantastic, like watching a songbird with a broken wing struggle to fly. The relentlessness of desperation paired with the inevitability of its downfall - truly magnifique!”

That earned another laugh, a row of jewel-tipped fingers raked through Rook’s hair. “I’d prefer to keep my songbird in one piece.” And then, after a slight pause, “In spite of that songbird’s best efforts to snap its own neck, of course.”

You shrunk into yourself. You’d tried to escape before, to pick the lock on your bedroom or poison his tea or, on one memorable occasion, to steal the spell book he always seemed to keep at his waist, and there’d always been a punishment to accompany your misbehavior – a crop taken to your back or one of your few privileges revoked. You couldn’t imagine what he’d do to you, this time. You couldn’t imagine that anything could’ve been worse than finally getting out of his tower only to be dragged back and deposited into his arms. “I’m sorry,” you managed, eventually, with only the intent of lessening whatever rage he must’ve held for you. “I… Rook is right. It was futile. I shouldn’t have tried to run.”

“And?”

And? There’d never been an and, before. When you could bring yourself to offer an apology, he’d always either accepted it ouright, ignored you completely, or clicked his tongue and promised that hollow words wouldn’t be enough to prove your remorse. You pursed your lips, but made yourself force something out. Silence would be seen as disobedience, and further disobedience would only make things worse for you. “And, it was short-sighted. I wouldn’t have gotten very far, and even if Rook hadn’t found me, I don’t know where we are. I wouldn’t know how to fend for myself. I—” Your voice cracked, your vision starting to blur once more. “I shouldn’t have gotten carried away by stories and fairy tales. I’m sorry.”

Vil let out a labored, languid sigh. There was one more squeeze to your cheeks, and finally, he let you go, setting down his comb in the same fluid movement. There was a small smile, a tap to his thigh, and Rook drew back just far enough to let you push yourself to your feet. Your legs immediately gave out, but Rook was fast enough to catch you, close enough to lower you into Vil’s lap himself and drink in the appreciative hum Vil offered, by way of reward.

“That’s very sweet,” he started, once you’d settled against him. Rook continued to hover above you, but you did your best to ignore him. “But I want you to apologize to our dear hunter, too.”

Something bitter leeched up from the back of your throat. You opened your mouth as you turned to face Rook, but closed it as soon as you saw him, as soon as you caught a glimpse of that careless grin, those half-lidded eyes. For as hesitant as you were to approach him, you snapped toward Vil reflexively, unable to stifle your reactions. “But, he doesn’t use my—”

“He went through so much to bring you home.” He’d shot three arrows. He’d tracked you like a wild animal. He’d brought you back to Vil after promising that he’d help you get away from Vil – after promising that he’d make sure you got your happy ending. “And he’s been so patient with you, since he joined us. Not just anyone can bear your sulking.”

You tried to protest, but your voice caught in your throat. It was more disbelief, than anything – another variable you hadn’t thought would hurt quite as much as it did. Vil scoffed, and Rook gave you a sympathetic smile, and you sat there, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“He lied to me,” you managed, finally. “He said he would help me escape.”

Vil’s lips quirked downward. You saw his fingers twitch, his spell book pulse with a sickly emerald light, but rather than summon a poison-coated dagger or turn you into some chirping, cage-bound bird for the next day or so, he looked towards Rook, more trust in his eyes than he’d ever afforded you.

You felt sick.

“I said that our ending would be a happy one. The poor dove must’ve misinterpreted what I meant by that.” It would’ve been a mercy if the affection dripping from his tone turned out to be ingenuine. It would’ve been a mercy, to find out he was only ever trying to hurt you. “I hoped that I might be to stay with the two of you – at least for a time. If you think I might be a bad influence,” A flash of a grin, a length of blonde hair allowed to fall over one of his eyes, “Then I only ask that you allow me the time I’ll need to savor a death by your hands properly.”

There was a bark of a laugh, a sharp snap of Vil’s fingers. Your eyes dropped to the floor as Vil caught Rook’s tunic in his chest and pulled him closer, as he’d done with you a thousand times. Fabric rustled against fabric, mouths crashed into mouths, but you willed yourself to ignore it, to just bite your tongue and be thankful that Vil’s attention wasn’t centered on you. To be grateful that you weren’t the only one stuck in this cage, anymore. You tried to be grateful. You wanted to be grateful.

And yet, you couldn’t seem to convince yourself that Rook was a prisoner, rather than yet another lock hanging from the bars of your cage.

[ppeonppeonhan]

If I had a nickel for every time a young, poor, somewhat resistant or deeply uninterested guy had a rich zaddy beg to be his bf and give him everything he ever desires in the BL Universe, I'd be a billionaire.

Here are all the ones I've seen so far:

A Boss and a Babe (2023)

Love in the Air (2022) - Just added

Naughty Babe (2023)

Step by Step (2023)

Not a vast age difference, but same dynamic:

Bed Friend (2023)

Dangerous Romance (2023)

Deep Night (2023)

Jun & Jun (SK - 2023)

KinnPorsche (2022)

My Stand-In (2024)

Only Friends (2023)

Sunset x Vibes (2024)

To My Star 1 & 2 (2021 - 2022) - Just added

We Are (2024)

Wedding Plan (2023)

Why R U? (2020) - Just added

You Are Mine (TW - 2023)

2023 was truly the year of imbalanced power dynamics.

Am I forgetting any?

[flicklikesstuff]

(⚠️TW! Mentions of Abuse)

………..

I hate to see/hear people react to Husk’s situation with:

“Alastor doesn’t abuse him, he only threatened him once.” OR

“At least it’s not as bad as Angel’s!”

Uhhhh…no?? We shouldn’t be comparing 2 abusive scenarios as which one is worse? Also, what do you MEAN he’s not being abused??? Do y’all know what abuse is?

……

1. Alastor literally threatened his life.

2. Husk suffers emotional stress being under his control.

He’s downright shaking in fear. In non-abusive relationships, this shouldn’t happen.

3. Alastor constantly degrades Husk.

“You may own my soul, but I ain’t your f*cking pet.”

“Oh, but you are~”

||

“You think I’m some kind of f*cking clown?!”

“Maybe.”

4. Husk gets repeatedly forced to do stuff against his will.

“You’d actually think I’d be here cleaning bottles and listening to you f*cks, b*tch and moan all the time if he weren’t forcing me?”

5. Power is imbalanced in this dynamic. Alastor felt the need to put Husk in his place.

6. Alastor dismisses his concerns.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle. Don’t worry Husker.”

7. Alastor gives no shts interfering with Husk’s achievements.

“I was about to win the whole damn pot-!”

“Good to see you too!”

………..

Plus, even if it’s presumably a one time occurrence, it’s still the same thing. A single act or a cycle is still considered harmful. But I personally have a feeling this isn’t the first time Alastor lashed out.

“N-nothing! I- uh…l

Husk looked and acted very panicked before Alastor started walking his way. Like he knew what direction this is going already. He even attempted to backtrack. I feel like if it was the first time, then he would’ve been more surprised and stunned into silence. But I interpreted his reaction as if he’s already familiar to this situation already.

I’m just saying, just because the show only showed it onscreen once, doesn’t mean it probably hasn’t happened before.

……….

Back to the main thing at hand,

Anything that treats the other person with cruelty or force qualifies as abuse. If the intention is to exert control and power, manipulate, or retain someone against their will, then that is abusive behavior.

You can try and argue that this kind of thing is common in hell.

Argue that it’s not as physical and constant as Angel’s.

Argue that Husk signed up for this and it’s part of his soul contract.

Still doesn’t take away the fact that Husk is still being emotionally abused. So you can stop defending your precious deer baby. You’re still allowed to like him as one of your fav characters but just don’t brush this one over.

[audreydoeskaren]

do you know Chinese symbolism for homosexuality?

tw homophobia, pedophilia

Hi again, for gay men there are a couple really well known ones but I’m not sure if they were real or fabricated, because all the articles describing them always cite the same couple sources from Antiquity... I tried to verify them but the only articles that didn’t copy and paste from the same source came across as extremely homophobic, so I decided to give up. The most common and reliable one is probably 断袖 or “cut sleeve”, which I mentioned in a previous ask. I would like to use this opportunity to talk about some tangential but more important topics regarding homosexuality in China though.

As a followup to my previous ask where I said I'd look through some Ming and Qing novels to see how homosexuality was perceived at the time, the conclusion I (unfortunately) came to was that homophobia was very much alive and well in Chinese literature and society. A lot of people like to argue that gay people fared pretty well in China historically by either pointing to emperors who were or were rumored to be gay or time periods where gay sex was prevalent as a form of consumption. This is extremely shallow and also kind of Orientalist in my opinion, these arguments always go for the emperors and do not take nuance into consideration or dive into wider societal discourses on homosexuality in imperial China. If you research homosexuality in Europe by only looking at royalty, you’ll find plenty of homosexual behavior too, does that mean gay people had it very easy in Europe historically?? Not to mention that they usually don’t differentiate between dynasties, let alone centuries or decades, even though public opinion on homosexuality in China (or anywhere in the world tbh) could change very quickly. This is also sort of Orientalist, assuming “imperial China” to be a never changing entity with a never changing stance on homosexuality. Since I know nothing prior to the Ming Dynasty I’ll share some of my random findings on homosexuality and homophobia in the Ming, Qing and 20th century.

Gayness as disease

Nowadays the symbol of the cut sleeve is just a benign historical allusion but historically it seems that it was used in a negative and condemning sense, implying that people thought of homosexuality as a disease or deviation from the norm. The common phrase used for the cut sleeve is "断袖之癖", usually translated as "the passion of the cut sleeve" nowadays, but the meaning of the word 癖 here leans more toward "fetish", "obsession" or "hobby" with pathological connotations. I thought maybe this word had a different, nuanced meaning historically but it seems that it was used to describe what it means :(( The only silver lining is probably that with the progression of language it isn’t offensive anymore.

In a lot of popular novels from the Ming and Qing, homosexuality was depicted as a "perversion" and a decadent lifestyle that plagues morality, and gay characters were often either killed or straightened out by the end of the story. An example of this is the story 黄九郎 Huang Jiulang from the series 聊斋志异 Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio by 蒲松龄 Pu Songling written in the 17th century. In this story, one of the protagonists was gay; he died after confessing his love to the other guy in a very fast paced bury your gays arc which somehow reminded me of the Supernatural finale, and reincarnated as a straight man because of his piety. Thanks I hate it. Pu uses the symbol of the cut sleeve to refer to the protagonist, presumably in a negative manner.

Gayness as power/status symbol

Another thing was that historically in China a lot of people confused homosexuality with pedophilia. This is a global thing, but its presence in China is often overlooked. This could be seen in the popularity of another term for homosexuality, "娈童", meaning something similar to "pederasty". I read somewhere that since the late Ming, pederasty was considered a type of tasteful consumption for high society, along with things like fashion, food, music and art. This was not equivalent to the "cut sleeve" or homosexuality as we know it nowadays, which refers to a personal sexual orientation, pederasty historically often refers to an imbalanced power dynamic where a wealthy, privileged man takes advantage of a young boy as a leisurely activity. It’s more to show off that someone in a position of privilege and wealth has the power to procure sexual objects, gender and age don’t matter much in this regard. I cannot help but cringe violently whenever someone brings up pederasty as proof of China’s historical “openness” toward gay people. Talk to me again when in this time and place you could marry someone of your sex (not a minor) and be considered a respectable couple instead of two jerks with a degenerate fetish (not saying that gay people have to marry, it’s just that the ability to do so is an important indicator of equality imo). Pedophilia and homosexuality are not one and the same good heavens.

I hypothesize that the reason why Chinese society was historically homophobic despite having no religious condemnation of homosexual individuals was the idea that having many concubines and male children was a status symbol for men. Women of marriageable age were seen more or less as commodities and male children could supposedly "continue the bloodline" 传香火 and were vessels for passing down prestige, so having them were of utmost importance to a privileged man. Being just gay or lesbian, however, meant that you didn't perform the "man strong working woman weak making babies" heteronormative family prototype, and was thus prone to criticism. When gay men didn’t have children they “couldn’t continue their bloodline” and were emasculated, when gay women didn’t have children they failed to “fulfill their duties as a woman” and were shamed.

It kind of makes sense considering how being bisexual was never a problem in comparison, especially for men. If you were a rich guy who had both male and female partners, you would still have children and concubines both male and female so nobody gives a shit. Emperor Zhengde of the Ming (reign 1505-21) was presumably bisexual and had both male and female lovers, nobody had a bone to pick with that; he famously liked to fuck around but those who criticized him did so for his debauchery instead of focusing on the gender of his partners.  This is different to homophobia in Europe where same sex attraction was considered evil and immoral in and of itself because of religious reasons, in China it was rather the other practical implications of homosexuality (not having children or a family) that attracted hate.

By the way can we just take a moment to talk about bi erasure in Chinese history. From all accounts of Emperor Zhengde I’ve read he comes across as extremely bisexual, but a lot of people try to make him a gay icon? I mean, he liked women too.

One interesting homophobic angle in ye olde China which I find kind of funny was straight women who wanted to climb the social ladder by marrying rich men talking shit about them after figuring out they were gay lmao. Historically, there were not so many work opportunities for women, so the easiest way to improve social standing was to marry a rich and powerful guy. Not saying that women didn't work, they did but their upward social mobility was restricted because they couldn't enter the imperial examination system which was how men became rich and powerful. This angle is relatively benign and kind of helps illustrate that historical Chinese homophobia was indeed fueled by classism and patriarchy.

Gayness as crime

I used to think that there were no anti-sodomy statutes in China (laws prohibiting sex between gay men), but it turns out that there was one decree in the Jiajing era (1521-67) and one in 1740, and private gay sex was not actually decriminalized until 1957. Same sex marriage is still not legal in China at time of writing. I couldn’t find detailed information on what these laws entailed or how they were enforced, but they’re enough to prove that homosexuality in China was legally punishable from the 16th century onward. On top of that, even when there was no law prohibiting private sex acts between people of the same sex, displays of gay affection such as kissing or holding hands could still be legally punished under “public indecency” or “hooliganism”, which was frequently what happened in the 20th century. 

[vtoriacore]

✧ midnight endeavours 

tw: yandere, implied murder, stockholm syndrome

note: is it really a surprise that my dumbass forgot to post it here from quotev? no? didn’t think so. i seriously need some vitamin b12 lmao. am i also the only one that’s really into victorian!aus as of lately?? istg i’m growing more obsessed with those lmao.

synopsis: in which you and romania share a few . . . intriguing moments in the dead of night..

You were beyond exasperated, really. Had he not had enough? Why hadn't he given up yet? After you declined at least on four separate occasions. Just why is he so hell bent on dancing constantly? Even after he knew how much you hated waltzing around on the floor no less! 

This is getting absolutely ridiculous. I am not getting in the middle of this crowd. Not a cha-

"Oh come on dragă! Only for a minute~" Crimson eyes glistening with mischief, the brunette held his gloved hand out once more as if it was a warning for you to not decline for the fifth time. Ah screw it, what did you have to lose? 

My god damn dignity.

"God, fine! Once we're done dancing, we're getting out of here." You gritted your teeth and placed your hand in his eagerly waiting one. The perfectly fitted gown that adorned your frame dragged across the floor in a hypnotising manner as your body was forced to move forward in the male's direction. The only good coming of this would be the close contact between the two of you.

"Ah, so it only takes five tries for you to cave in, hm~?" Your current bane of existence, as you'd like to say but never admit isn't true, grinned and quirked an eyebrow, voice coming out smooth yet rich. Curse him for that. 

"Correction: takes five tries to have me cave in and then leave you in the dust." You spoke, slight irritation lacing your voice as the both of you continued waltzing across the polished marble dance floor packed with many other couples. Real couples, might you add.

You couldn't hate annual balls more even if you tried; oh they were the absolute worst! Having to dance around as if you were some sixteen year old child again just enraged you on so many different levels; you were positive you reached a new emotional plateau by now. You could be out there studying medicine, law, alchemy- if not for this awful patriarchal society! 

"I can tell you're in deep thought." Vladimir exclaimed as he gazed into your eyes, his playful demeanor from two seconds ago completely gone.

"Well . . . I just hate this. Having to be here I mean." You sighed out, hand momentarily tightening on his shoulder. Remembering the grim reality of having to be subservient to your husband and having the power dynamic so imbalanced made you dread for your pitiful little future. You so desperately wanted to avoid that. 

At least Vlad isn't some filthy rich, good for nothing misogynistic scumbag. If only my parents permitted me to be with him instead, everything would be so much easier.

"Let me guess, you'd like to go back to your chamber and read the medical journal I gifted you?" A loop sided grin crawled onto the brunette's face as he tilted his head. You might as well have been an open book to him. Easier read than the spells he’s constantly practising. 

"Curse you and your accurate guesses." You mumbled out sarcastically. 

"Hmm~ How about tonight we do something different?" A glint of something deep shone through his beautiful ruby red eyes, both of you completely halting to a stop,

"Oh? Perhaps one of your satanic rituals you tried to coax me into doing?" Vladimir only laughed at your expense as you scowled lightly. 

"It wasn't a satanic ritual, I was trying to summon an old forest beast!" He defended against your claims.

"And did it work?" You crossed your arms, mocking him.

"No- but that's beside the point! Tonight we can do something more . . . on the relaxed side, if you will." The suggestion piqued your interest as you nodded your head.

"Okay, but if it involves singing, dance, pottery or flowers, I'm totally kicking your ass." You warned sternly before following Vlad out the grand ballroom as he lead the way through the busy people.

It wasn't long before the both of you exited the premises of the palace and went out into the chilly evening breeze. Tonight, the moon took a full, spherical shape as it illuminated the indigo dark sky as well as the flurry of greenery in front of the shrouded in unusual darkness forest. The courtyard just outside of the entering was perfectly secluded and a place intended for intimate moments, it seemed.

"What are you planning, a kidnapping?" You joked to ease some of your raising fear, you couldn't help but feel that way after seeing how dark exactly it was. 

"No, a murder." Your dearest friend rolled his eyes with a small smile playing on his face. Even you couldn't deny how handsome he looked under the moon's light; his features were perfectly highlighted, fang like teeth slightly poking out and reflecting some of the rays back. Even his cherry red lips gained an entirely new shine which only made his face look much more youthful.

"Ooh~ Checking me out?" Vladimir's face was suddenly just inches away from your own as a teasing smirk overtook his face, crimson orbs showing nothing but smugness.

"A-as if there was something to check out!" You retaliated, averting your own [e/c] eyes from his.

"Ehe don't worry~ I happen to think you're gorgeous too." Fierce red hues overtook both of your cheeks as you slapped the male's shoulder in complete embarrassment. 

"S-stop saying things like that! Y-you know we can't-" The brunette laughed at you in an attempt to cut you off as he pinched your cheeks with his gloved hands. 

"Awe~ Little [Name] can't take a compliment?" You tried to pry his hands off your face to no avail. Has he always been this strong or did you just grow weak? Maybe he really was a vampire like he claimed- no, of course he was only pranking you!

"Stop or else-" You were cut off before you could finish speaking once more. 

"Or else what, hm~?" Ah, so he wants a dose of his own medicine then? You're more than happy to oblige. There is no way you'll let him get away with this much provocation without any consequences!

"Or else I'll kiss you." Your eyes grew half lidded as you suddenly clutched Vlad's chin in between your fingers, your other hand meeting the base of his neck. Even if it was just some sweet revenge, you couldn't lie about how good it felt to finally be able to do something on this scale of scandalous. 

You had noticed how the male completely stopped in his tracks, his eyes growing perfectly wide with traces of elation swimming around in between all the crimson. Lips slightly parted, he couldn't help but just stare at you with cheeks growing to a very deep shade of red. Jackpot. 

"W-what . . . ?" He uttered lightly, "You don't mean that." His voice came out much more hushed than before, and sounded much more serious. And to say you were panicking would be an understatement. You did not mean to create whatever you just did.

Maybe I should've properly thought this through- 

"A-ah, s-sorry-" Before you could fully voice your thoughts, a pair of soft lips seemed to have pressed against your own. Your body completely gave up on self control as yours began to move along with his at a steady pace that seemed to be increasing. Not before long, your hands managed to entangle themselves into Vladimir's caramel brown locks, his own hands pulling you in closer by your waist.

"I won't let him have your hand in marriage . . . " Practically huffing the words out, the boy in front of you pressed his forehead against your own, removing the gloves from his hands so he could hold your cheeks in his warm hands.

" . . . You promise?" You asked in a quiet voice. There certainly was no going back from what you're just insinuated, and you were alright with it. As long is it would only be the two of you.

"Yes. I do. No matter what I have to do . . ." Vlad answered with a small smile etched onto his face, one that held nothing but pure gentleness and tranquillity. Although you couldn't say the same for his eyes, they were the complete opposite, showing only murderous rage and intent to kill. And you had a pretty good guess of who it was aimed at.

"Just . . . Just be safe, alright? I'm sorry for starting this." You explained, hands wrapped around his neck in a shy manner.

"Don't be. It's only natural this would happen~ I knew you couldn't resist me for much longer!" Your new lover giggled, felicity weaved into every word that emitted from his lips.

"O-oh shut up! You were the one to lean in first!" You buried your head deep inside Vlad's chest, hearing his heartbeat pick up its rate.

"You responded~" You almost rolled you eyes at what he was saying, but ultimately decided to bathe in the comfortable silence instead. 

"I don't want to ruin the moment, but I have some new business to attend to. Quite urgent you see, it's about the love of my life finally having freedom." You pulled away at his words with a small smile playing at your lips, knowing full well what was going to happen to your, well, ex fiancé. But if you were being honest, you couldn't find it within you to feel remorse, only pity at best. He was a horrible man anyway, good riddance you know? Rich merchants who only care for themselves don't deserve their privileges anyway.

You convinced yourself that everything would be okay, that the forced marriage would have ended up in divorce anyway, that the life of the man that would be ended this very night wouldn't be in vain. And you accepted the sheer fact with open arms. 

"Stay safe." You uttered with a nod before turning away to walk back inside the palace and to your chamber, where you'd wait for Vlad to come crawling through your window as he did almost every night. 

"Will do, iubit." His voice carried tenderness like no other as he slipped off into the night with a final small glance at your figure. Determination like no other only propelled him to complete the deed faster, this way both of you could be as happy as you dreamed. 

You definitely knew you made the right choice. 

[venicebixch]

🚨TW: mentions of r4pe / SA, exploitation, misogyny, pedo, if any of these things make u uncomfortable please skip this post🚨

Same anon. . sw wil never be ethical i was criticizing the indrusty not the SWers , the industry should be demonised, it’s harmful not to mention how it encourages violence and S/A aswell as abusive behaviour towards women. . The existsince of 🌽 itself IS exploitation of women. Period. It was invented on the basis of misogyny and exploitation of women and their bodies and LMFAOOOOO DID U SAY PORNHUB IS HAS ETHICAL CONTENT???? 🤣🤣 If that was the case they would take down the “BARELY LEGAL TEEN!!!!!!!!” category giving pedos outlets theres many more steps to come (which will never actually come cause they are making money) . u saying all jobs are technically also unethical bc they are all driven by money. and mentioning all those jobs like nba player, or people who work in factory’s that are exposed to harmful chrmicals. do u have any critical thinking at all?? that’s wage labor for skilled trades, services, etc. A woman’s body being used/violated for sex with men is not the same thing. but maybe ur just weird and think paying someone to have sex with u even tho theres no way to verify their consent is totally fine. Sooo What’s ur price for consent? and you know imma say something in pretty much laymans terms to help u understand what I mean. There’s much more depth and reasons but heres why I believe no 🌽 is ethical. even the so called ethical ones u think of. The very act of paying for it, being paid for it, creates a coercive and imbalanced power dynamic. They also cannot ever revoke consent once it’s up. The simple fact that there is still no way to prove or confirm that it is ethical. Further, you can’t buy consent. It must be freely given. Consent SHOULD be - freely given, and be able to be revoked at any time no matter what. Neither of these conditions can be met for ANY form of “corn”. be mindful of how addictions manifest and how harmful it is for the brain, i love ur writings and ur very talented and this isn’t meant to come off as me hating u. I used to think that 🌽 was fine until I ruined my sleep schedule for weeks researching how terrible SW is and scarring myself with pstar testimonies, maybe it’s cause I’ve never interacted with p*rn but to me , why would you take that risk knowing u could have watched someone be r***ed yk?.

alright you’re clearly mad and i’m done with the conversation. i’m literally just here to vibe and simp for vinnie. i’m a damn vinnie hacker fanfic writer on here, that’s all. i’m not tryna contemplate consent and misogyny or critique the societal norms for women, i do enough of that in my uni classes. if you don’t think i know PLENTY about these issues, i do. i promise. i’m not a fucking idiot. i did debate club for years, i’m well versed on a lot of issues and have strong opinions on them. nonetheless, i’m literally just here to chill and write. i’m so damn tired of anons starting shit like this. if you have a problem with what i post and say, leave. it’s quite literally that simple and some of y’all are beyond insufferable on here. strangers on tumblr are not a medium for you to take out your anger toward society on. go argue with a mf on tiktok or twitter or something cause i’m not the one lol

i have my own opinions and you have your own opinions, and that’s that. you’re not gonna convince me all sex work is wrong because it isn’t. see my last post because it seems to be going over your head when i say there’s ETHICAL and NONETHICAL sex work, period. and you keep bringing up the clearly nonethical side and using it to make your point about sex work as a whole.

i do not have the energy to deal with anons like this anymore, i could write books explaining my perspective and it’s not gonna matter because we both have our own beliefs. i’m this 👌🏻 close to just blocking people who start this shit with me. chill tf out.

[toxicsamruby]

comparative post abt supernatural and revolutionary girl utena :( tw for incest, csa, abuse, and a brief mention of suicide. Also, spoilers for rgu.

supernatural and revolutionary girl utena (the anime. i havent seen the movie or read the manga this post is abt the show only) hit a lot of the same thematic notes and it is really striking because supernatural seems to hit them by accident and ends up with a totally different conclusion and when you compare it to rgu actually ends up endorsing everything that rgu criticized.

revolutionary girl utena is a surrealist show about ohtori academy, which is removed from reality and controlled by a godlike figure, akio. akio maintains his own power through grooming the students in his care and having them reproduce power dynamics, namely the system of gender, through abuse, violence, and bullying. akio sexually abuses his own younger sister, anthy, and multiple other students over the course of the show, and in turn, boys in attendance at this school learn abusive patterns of behavior while girls are conditioned to accept them. the key themes of the show are cycles of abuse, violence in gender roles, and the way interpersonal gender-based abuse feeds into the larger system of gender and misogyny and vice versa. the fact that ohtori is so removed from reality, that all the fighting and abuse that takes place inside of it is isolated from the "real world," is important; extremely stringent gender roles are reified as natural and necessary, as is akio's power, despite the fact both are social constructs.

surface level, supernatural couldn't be more different, yeah. but it actually does hit similar notes: the system of hunting is removed from the "real world," and although the characters tend to weave between the supernatural and normal worlds, there is always a level of separation between them and normalcy, there's always the sense that the supernatural world is almost entirely distinct from the normal one. even when they do mix, the subplot is resolved, and by the next episode or the next season the mix is forgotten about, as if the real world had never been touched by the supernatural at all. it is considered of paramount importance that "normal people" are never told about hunting but never explained why (this rule, at least originally, is made by john. an abusive figure of authority making arbitrary rules of isolation to control the children in his charge? hm.)

this level of isolation between the supernatural and the "real world" helps to reify the concept of monstrosity itself: within the world of hunting, anything other than human is a monster, even though these definitions are constantly shifting and the consequences for monstrosity change frequently. we are shown over and over again, textually, that there are many many sentient monsters with thoughts and feelings and emotions and needs and desires, who are just as morally complex as any human beings, but most of them end up under the control of hunters or exterminated anyway. why IS a monster a monster? the separation of hunting from normalcy serves to keep people from asking that question. the system of hunting is so entrenched in the world of the supernatural, and the world of the supernatural is so separated from normalcy, that the concept of monstrosity is considered to be natural and necessary. where a "normal" person might ask why those vampires in 'last holiday' had to be killed bc they didn't really do anything wrong on screen, hunters know that monsters need to die because that's the rules of the supernatural world.

in rgu, akio maintains his control of ohtori through the hierarchy of gender. that's how the school is structured, with boys playing a specific role and girls playing the counterpart role. akio needs that system, because it's what facilitates his abuse of anthy, and his abuse of anthy (and similar relationships where boys abuse girls and more specifically brothers abuse sisters) is what gives the rest of the system permission to continue existing. touga grooms and later sexually assaults his younger sister nanami. touga is a human child, no older than 16 years old, and was himself groomed by akio and the system in which he lives. his abuse of nanami is a manifestation of that system. these abusive relationships allow and are allowed by the system. at the end of the show, utena and anthy, two girls abused by akio, help one another escape not only their abuser but the school which permitted and fed off of their abuse. their escape doesn't destroy akio or ohtori or the system as a whole, but it puts a crack in it. it serves as a example to other abused children, and offers a path to healing. overall, its a genuinely impactful story about how gendered abuse happens, how damaging sibling abuse and incest is, and how a system of power both facilitates and depends upon abusive relationships happening within it.

the interesting thing about this is that supernatural's system of power is different (monsters and humans instead of girls and boys), but it's also enforced in similar ways by the god figure (well. the literal biblical god, actually. chuck.) in supernatural. monsters and human beings are divinely separated both in the afterlife (despite the arbitrary nature of the difference between them) and on earth (chuck has written down everything ahead of time, especially surrounding the protagonist hunters and their way of life). sam is established very early on to be monstrous, first because of the demon blood, then as lucifer's chosen vessel, later as soulless. each time, he needs to be brought back under human/hunter control, meaning dean's control. dean's authority over sam (and later his abuse of him) is in part a manifestation of the accepted power dynamic of hunter over monster, which is established at the beginning of season 2 when john tells dean that he might have to kill sam if he becomes a monster.

in rgu, the only acceptable male-female dynamic is controller and controlled, protector and protected, abuser and abused. women can only be witches, like anthy, or princesses, like nanami. in supernatural, the only acceptable human-monster dynamic is the same. monsters can only be 1. dead, or 2. under the control or supervision of a human/hunter. most end up dead, of course, but sam was always under the supervision of dean. it's at dean's discretion whether or not to kill sam in season 2, it's dean who's trying to get control of sam all through seasons 4 and 6. because of sam's self hatred about his monstrosity and "disappointing dean," he nearly kills himself at the end of season 8, and dean again makes major decisions for sam. the imbalanced dynamic between them is in large part because sam's humanity is always in question, and it's always up to dean to protect him, to control him, to put him down if need be. in supernatural, the imbalanced relationship btwn sam and dean is facilitated by the rules of the supernatural world, and it is because they can't break out of this power imbalance that they are so completely incapable of rethinking the system of hunting.

of course, it isn't 100% dean's fault. he was given the responsibility of Sam by john and by the bigger system of hunting. touga was groomed and most likely abused by akio, and it was only in imitation and admiration of akio that he abused nanami in the first place. in the context of hunting, it's dean's job to do harm, because that's the job that's been assigned to him by his father, the larger power system, and chuck. he was abused, and he also suffers by being forced into this role- he can't really connect with the people he cares about in a meaningful way. that's how the cycle continues.

the weird difference between the two? the system of hunting is never actually criticized, and the relationship between dean and sam is never addressed as abuse. so while revolutionary girl utena is a thoughtful and compassionate exploration of sibling abuse and gender, supernatural is a hamfisted action story that validates unhealthy family dynamics and eugenicist ideas about "monsters" that aren't really monsters at all. so at the end of rgu, utena and anthy break free of ohtori and akio. they end the cycles of abuse and are finally able to see each other outside of the roles prescribed to them by an abusive system. at the end of supernatural, the cycle isn't broken, the idea of monstrosity remains unrefuted, and sam and dean never see each other any differently than they always have.

[searenbound]

Trying to distract myself from the feeling of running late when I have no where I’m going to

Let’s talk about physical therapist Bakugou with an inappropriate crush on his favorite patient who must know how inappropriately he’s behaving with them.

When he teaches them new stretches his touch always lingers when he adjusts their posture and position. He’s technically only supposed to demonstrate the stretch for them, but he finds his hands moving to their hips to steady them while he his them take a wider stance.

Or on the back of their thigh, just a little bit too close to their ass but not quite touching it, and pushing it closer to their chest because he knows they can handle a deeper stretch than that.

He can feel the heat radiating out your core without even touching you there. He knows you know exactly what’s happening. It’s why he feels bold enough to peel your leggings down thighs little by little when he’s supposed to be manually working on your back, claiming he “needs to work lower”.

Eventually he stops even pretending he’s just doing his job and skips straight to fingering you while you blow him so he isn’t walking around hard as a diamond after you leave.

He’s happy when you can be discharged from their care, but he’s so disappointed that you won’t be coming around to complicate his work anymore.

He wonders if this was just a thrill for you, or if you’d be happy if he asked for your number. Lucky him he didn’t even have to ask, you ‘left’ your phone behind with a contact page with his name already filled out. He just had to put in the number and get it back to you.

[astermacguffin]

Not to gatekeep on the destiel kidnapping fic but I am gatekeeping it because a lot of you don't seem to get the function of the last chapter and why it was important NOT to end the fic in either dean or cas' perspective but rather from an outside view.

If the fic ended in their perspective, then it would have read like a "happy" ending instead of the tragic horror that it really is. You're supposed to observe them and their fucked up dynamics from afar, NOT root for them. (Root for them to be healthy and happy, sure. But ideally they should do that while oceans apart from each other. I have read and reread this fic at least 8 times, so I should know.)

(more fucked up shit below the cut. TW for passing mention and reference to the kidnapping & dubcon/noncon in the fic. None of these tags are explicitly detailed here. Obvious spoiler warning for With Understanding)

Readers who identify strongly with cas' perspective sometimes describe the first few chapters as "developing Stockholm syndrome together with cas," which shows the obvious danger of ending the fic in cas' perspective.

Dean, as we know, is just as unreliable as a narrator and should therefore NOT be the POV character for the final chapter.

Interestingly enough, the final chapter is NOT just some simple PSA that goes "this relationship is BAD and you should not emulate it." Obviously it does go into how unhealthy dean and cas are for each other, but it's also a discourse on the facts of the matter and our memories of it.

We as readers have access to information that either parties don't have about the others. We know what facts the BAU has wrong and where they hit the bullseye. We know facts about Dean and Cas as well as their blindspots about themselves and each other. It's a psychoanalytic reading on the characters (and by extension, the readers who vicariously went through the same trauma by identifying strongly with the characters).

This discourse on memory is explicitly grappled by Cas during his therapy. When asked by his therapist if he was truly able to give consent during his captivity, Cas eventually reflects on his (VERY) dubiously consensual encounters with Dean and categorizes them as rape.

Of course, it's also important to remember that the entire thing an experiment in fiction aimed to explore how love of any kind can even happen when your initial relationship is a toxic, imbalanced power dynamic. (The author explains this in the final notes.) It doesn't have a final, clear-cut answer to everything; it's a thought experiment. An incredibly fucked up one, that's for sure, but an experiment nonetheless.

There's an interesting question posed in the final chapter: whether or not what Dean and Cas feel for each other is really "love" and if it is, then what does that say about love and humanity in general? It's a haunting thing to ponder about and I think it's supposed to haunt you. Such a question wouldn't be really intriguing if their dynamic was healthy in the first place.

Anyways, definitely do NOT read With Understanding if you're not in the proper headspace for it. And please stop throwing value judgments on people based on whether they like or hate the fic.

[yellowocaballero]

For the director's commentary: the end of Human Relations where Sasha takes the fall for Leitner's murder and Jon sort of stands up to Elias?

Oooh really interesting pick, thank you. It’s a fairly long scene so I won’t copy/paste it, but the link to the story is here. TW for rest of this post for discussion of abusive relationships. Also sorry this reply took so long, I had other stuff to do then I typed out an essay and then deleted it lol. 

The relationship between Jon and Jonah only really solidified for me as I was writing that scene. It’s very intense, and as an ending it’s very impactful: the reveal for Sasha of who Jon and Jonah were, and the reveal for the reader of the nature of Jon and Jonah’s relationship. I explore it more here and here, but I will say that basically every relationship in Human Relations is about people trying to control each other. It is thematic.

I enjoy thinking about the very many reasons why somebody would do an objectively shitty thing. Every relationship in HR is characterized by a lack of trust born from fear and paranoia, and it’s low-key a symptom of them all being psychologically eroded by the Eye. Everybody in HR - Sasha, Tim, Martin, Jon, and Jonah - has tried to manipulate and control other people in the cast, but every single one of them did it because they thought it was for the person’s own good. 

Sasha didn't tell Tim a lot of important information because she thought that he couldn't be trusted with it! Tim didn't tell Sasha his concerns and suspicions because he didn't trust her! Martin was blatantly manipulative of Jon because he was invested in not being killed, and then later on invested in breaking Jon free from Jonah's control! Jonah controlled Jon because he paternalistically  thinks Jon's an idiot who can't make his own decisions! Jon tries to control Sasha because Jonah wants him to and also because he's also being a little paternalistic! It’s a mess!

Jon and Jonah’s dynamic is so unhealthy that it veers into abusive, and I did want to make a commentary on the abusive friendship or relationship that is “politely not talked about” or that it just so common and taken for granted that we don’t mention it. It’s a fine line between  "they genuinely like each other and there might even be love there" and "Jonah really just thinks Jon should be working for him and doing what he's supposed to do instead of all of his stupid 'independence' ambitions". Does Jonah care about Jon? Yeah! Will Jonah leverage their initial imbalanced power dynamic for the next 200 years to make Jon feel inferior and keep him under his control? Also yeah!

I think Jonah likes, cares about, and supports Jon so long as Jon's doing what he wants. Which he almost never does, so there's conflict. It comes down to like, if a chronic manipulator can have genuine friends, or if he only knows how to hold significant long term relationships if he views it through the lens of control. I’m still uncertain if Jonah is...capable of caring about Jon in a legitimate way. Definitely not in a healthy way. I’m sure Jon’s also uncertain of this. 

Very interesting, would like to explore it more. I’m uncertain if I’ll ever write a full sequel to HR, mostly because I’ve already done a S3 rewrite and I find rewrites boring, but time will tell. Thanks for the question!

[analoglove]

tw; abuse, sa, imbalanced power dynamic relationships, statutory rape, etc..

When I was 18 I met a boy who would tell me sweet stories about how he wanted to keep me in a cage. I can’t call him a man, because although he was 24, or 25, or 26, he was just a boy. He was broken, abused, pieces of a puzzle clumsily glued together, he had become trauma. In between telling me about how he wanted to watch the life drain from my eyes while he fucked me and telling me that he loved me, he told me about how his mom had married a horrible man. How he was going to make that man pay. I think the first at-length conversation we had was a confession of intent to murder. Enthralled, smitten. A self described psycho who wanted to get as close as possible to me. He made me carve his initials into my leg and described to me how he would stick a knife in me and play with the blood. A sweet girl, he called me. He was charming, funny, easy to talk to. He terrified me, and I cared about him so much. This man wanted to keep me in a

Cage. My head is a cage. I met a boy at 12, 13, 14 who told me he didn’t like younger girls, just me. He was 18, 19, and he was a boy, but to me he was a man. He told me about how he wanted to hold me down and struggle-fuck me, and I didn’t know I liked that sort of thing until he told me I did. I sent him parts of me I couldn’t take back. For years I would send parts of me I can’t take back. He hated himself, he was overweight, but I thought he was gorgeous and I couldn’t believe he wanted someone like me. I couldn’t say the relationship was all sex because we still talked like friends, he fulfilled the role of someone older and wiser in my life. I was so mature for my age, talking to an 18 year old man. He told me how he would choke me, and I didn’t understand why someone would want that, but I understood that I should like things like that if I wanted older boys to like me. I watched him move on from me, onto older prettier girls. He would talk about girls my age like he couldn’t possibly ever be with a girl that young. He lost weight and I watched him shed me like old skin. I’m the dirty secret he will never tell. I was mature for my age. 

Hands. Me and him shook hands. The first time we met. I’m not my trauma but then again maybe we both are and we’re each others. At 15, he kissed me for the first time, I wasn’t ready. At 15, just two weeks away from legality, I lost my virginity in the back of a Jeep. I lost it 3 more times in his childhood bedroom. The day before my birthday he asked me to be his girlfriend, but not to tell my parents or they’d kill him. True romance, my dream, I would never meet a boy like this in a place like here. I wore his sweater to school. It only took him a few days to tell me he loved me. It took him 2 months to ask me if he could have sex with my 14 year old friend. I loved him for another year. In that time he taught me all the positions I was supposed to like, in that time I grew up faster than I could have been ready for. 18, 19 year old boy. He had an older girlfriend, his age, when he was my age. He didn’t know better, he was traumatized, he needed someone to understand him. I was understanding. He taught me how to make him cum, he never did the same for me, but that’s okay, it was enough to make him feel good. He taught me how to smoke out of a pipe. I loved him, real first love. Sex became less of a ritual and more of a chore. I don’t remember who I was before he taught me I was just sex. Maybe I could have grew up to be a normal girl, not dated until college, have a string of healthy relationships instead of painful gut wrenching ones. But it’s systematic isn’t it? I told him I didn’t want to have sex that night, and then every night after he made it clear I had very little choice. A few months later a switch flipped inside me. I didn’t realize I was unhappy until I was already breaking up with him. For months he would cry and beg and plead for my love back, just a kiss, a nude, to let him fuck me again. He was a boy. I broke something in him, so I guess we’re even. Except it never comes out even. For over a year after breaking up I would continue to give him parts of me to mend what I had shattered, I would continue to give him my body and my affection and my time and my effort and I would try to save him from me and from himself but I was never the problem you can’t save someone who is their own worst enemy. I wondered who would save me. I wondered who would save me and I went looking for a messiah, a jesus, and in looking for someone to save me, in dark corners and dimmer alley's, I found a man. A man who wanted to keep me in a cage. And sometimes a cage can feel like freedom.

[thecitythatdoesntsleep]

Could you possibly uhm... write some more vampire dialogue prompts? 👉👈 Very inspiring!

(Tags/TW: blood, enslavement, dehumanization, starvation, wounds, abuse, human pet universe, gaslighting, mental reconditioning, blood addiction, vampire whump, breaking bones, begging, mental reprogramming, burning, blood drinking, imbalanced power dynamics, threatening, implied/referenced violence, Vampire!Whumpee, Vampire!Whumper, Vampire!Caretaker.)

Vampire Whumper

"I love it when you squirm, knowing you'll never break free."

"Maybe if you didn't fight me, it wouldn't be broken."

"Scream one more time and I'll sever your vocal chords."

"You've stopped flinching when I bite you... Must not compare to your punishments."

"Make yourself bleed for me and I'll go easy on you."

"I wonder what it would be like to bite a chunk out of you. I bet it wouldn't heal pretty at all."

"Drink it pig, drink my blood and get your filthy fix."

"You're such an addict for Master's blood... You'll offer me anything for it, wont you?

Whumpee

"P-Please, I can't lose any more blood.."

"N-No! You can break anything y-you want but please don't cut if off.."

"I-I can't heal fast enough for Master without feeding... Please Master please.."

"It hurts too bad- I can't take it! *sobs* P-Please put the fire out..!!"

"I-I was good Master, I didn't let any of your blood go to waste."

"Please punish me Master, however you see fit. Your pet leech needs to feed so badly.. Master can make them earn it, please punish pet for Master's blood."

"Does Master want to take it out on pet? If Master is angry, they should punish pet and make them useful. Pet was just fed so pet will heal."

"P-Please not the stake... It hurts so bad when it goes in..!"

Caretaker

"Here, please drink this, you'll feel better."

"Shh, I've got you, no one will ever be able to take you away from me."

"I know it wont taste as good... but you can feed from me, I don't mind."

"Is it okay if I touch you? I can heal you that way."

"It sounds gross but I promise, if you drink my blood you'll feel better."

"I'll watch over you while you sleep. Don't worry about me, I don't need to rest but you certainly do."

"I don't drink from humans, so you're safe with me."

"Why are you scared Whumpee?" "How did I know? I can smell it on you, so please tell me what's wrong."

"What can I do to make you less afraid of me sweetheart..?"

"I know Whumper was a vampire like me... But I promise, I'm nothing like them."

"I have to be careful with Whumpee, I don't want to hurt them. They're too precious."

-

These are super fun to do so if anyone would like to see more, please request it! <3 Or I might just post a couple more pages on my own. vuv

[femslashrevolution]

Why I Love Strangeness, Smut & Fic with Lots of Feelings

This post is part of Femslash Revolution’s I Am Femslash series, sharing voices of F/F creators from all walks of life. The views represented within are those of the author only.

TW: non-graphic references to kink, taboo fantasies, abuse, and eating disorders.

I’ve started this piece about a dozen times, trying to figure out what it wants to be. As a writer, words are important to me, but as a human I want the content to say something true, to be provocative and unflinching. I want the things I write to be a sledgehammer that breaks down the walls of shame that isolate us. Shame wants to stop us from connecting, because if we do, we’ll find out we’re actually not broken or twisted or strange, or that we are but it’s okay. We’ll compare notes and realize none of us have any reason to hide who we are, because we’re all perfectly flawed. 

I write femslash to make connections. I’ve made friends, real friends, in the comments section on AO3. I help other writers, and I have other writers who help me. They’re art midwives; like a baby, sometimes a fic needs a little assistance to be born. Little international virtual villages pop up around characters or ships and we bond with each other over shared fandom. We are different ages, races, nationalities and orientations, but there are parts of us that are the same. 

It goes deeper, to the things that scare us, turn us on or make us blush. I’ve compared notes and realized that society’s “sick and wrong” is often someone’s vibrant fantasy. When I write something that feels “too weird,” either because it’s dark or kinky or too emotionally naked, I force myself to post it. I always expect the comments to say “you’re a sicko” or “how can you write about this?” but usually they’re “I thought I was the only one who was into this” and “This is the fic I’ve been searching for.” We connect over the things that isolate us, that whisper “You’re strange.” 

Maybe we are strange, but we are also the same. Isolate us, make us feel bad about who we are or what we want, and we’re powerless. When we find each other, we learn to stop apologizing for our strangeness and we become unstoppable.

I write graphic sex that’s filthy but full of feelings. I write little heartwarming drabbles about romantic misunderstandings or murderers who find kittens in the trash. I write fills for the weirdest kinkmeme prompts I can find, for pairings that make me think, “That can’t work.” I make it my mission to find a way. I kill off beloved characters, I break their hearts, I build them up, I toss them into bed together, I dissect the worst moments of their lives, I put them in sexual situations that push them too far, I make them lash out at each other, I turn them upside down and shake them until the confessions of love fall out.  

There is not always a happy ending. There doesn’t need to always be a happy ending. My best friend says she reads fic to escape the terrible state of the world. She wants a distraction, and that’s valid, but it’s not the purpose fic serves for me.

I read (and write) to feel things. Grief, rage, discomfort, joy, anxiety, arousal, heartbreak, hope. I process my life by chucking the pieces of it into a cement mixer and flipping the switch until it’s something I can build on. My triumphs and tragedies join up with the things that delight me and the ones that confuse me and the ones that scare me, and then it’s all ground down and shaken up until it’s something solid. 

I wrote the kitten!fic soon after my beloved tortie compatriot died. I used to joke she was so evil she’d live forever, but I guess even cats made of razor blades eventually need a rest. I decided to funnel my grief into something worthwhile by writing something heartrending and sad. Once I started it, the fic wrote itself into something gentle and bursting with hope. 

I wrote a dark fic in the usually-light Ghostbusters fandom; a lot of readers didn’t like it, but there were a few who connected with it in powerful ways. I often write the shades of grey, the complicated parts, the “won’t tie up neatly at the end of our hour-long episode” stories. 

I wrote an intimate fic about taboo fantasies, in which one partner had to admit to the other that she had a rape fantasy. The partner didn’t consider herself kinky, but she listened, didn’t judge and was willing to talk about helping the woman she loved explore that desire. That fic exists because in six years I was never completely honest with my ex-partner about my own fantasies, because I knew she wouldn’t have been that caring and supportive. 

I wrote a story about a lesbian whose bisexual girlfriend wanted to watch interact sexually with a man. She agreed and it was a disaster. The story struck a nerve, because a lot of queer women have had sex with men that felt “wrong” like that. I’d intended it to be a one-shot about the ways we disregard our own safety for the people we care about, but the readers’ reactions were so powerful, it prompted me to write more chapters. It grew into something much bigger about trauma, friendship and understanding.

I wrote a fill for the Ghostbusters kinkmeme prompt “anorexic Holtzmann,” because the mere idea of writing it scared me. I explored her childhood, the difficulty of being much younger than her academic peers, the way she discovered her sexuality, and the people who shaped her along the way.  I dug deep into my feelings of otherness and my lifelong complicated relationship with food and body image. Someone commented that she’d been looking for an ED fic in the Ghostbusters fandom, because she struggles and reading about it helps. “As a smart, chubby girl with an eating disorder, well done and thank you,” she wrote. It resonated with her, because we share something that makes us feel different.

I’ve written more than thirty fics centered around How to Get Away With Murder’s Bonnie Winterbottom. I’ve paired her with half a dozen different characters. Some of the Bonnies I write are fragile and sad; others are voraciously sexual, unapologetic queer dynamos. I love writing characters standing up for themselves and fighting for what they want, and Bonnie? Canon Bonnie? She wants, so desperately it sometimes makes me uncomfortable.

Before I discovered HTGAWM, I’d taken a two year hiatus from writing fic. I’d never been prolific in the first place. But there was something about Bonnie, and her complicated, imbalanced, maybe-not-sexual-but-still-intensely-passionate relationship with her boss Annalise that cut through me. It made me want to write again, made me NEED to write again. 

In Bonnie and Annalise, I saw a dynamic I’d never before seen represented on television, one that I’d lived myself. As more of Bonnie’s tragic backstory unfolded, our stories didn’t align so perfectly, but the moment she knelt weeping at her magnetic, brilliant boss’s feet still lives inside me. It resonates. I saw my past reflected in Bonnie’s devotion, her barely-concealed feelings, her tragically low self-esteem. I saw the truth of one of my own complicated relationships in the way Annalise manipulated her. I watched her give Bonnie exactly enough affection to keep her hopelessly entangled, and just enough praise to make her work until she dropped, and it made my guts ache.

And yet, I knew Annalise Keating wasn’t a monster, because I’d loved a woman who had walls like that. I knew what could happen once the lights were out. I’d seen the teflon shield come down, exposing the sort of wraith that lives inside powerful, beautiful, charismatic women who have learned to be those things to survive. The kind of woman who needs to drink most of a bottle of wine before she can let herself be vulnerable, and who wants nothing more than a moment to be soft. 

Femslash is a small corner of the wider fic world. The HTGAWM femslash community is very small. This year I discovered the Ghostbusters fandom, which offered me another character who reflected parts of myself I never thought I’d see on screen. It was bigger, more active, and the kudos and comments were addictive, but I keep coming back to Bonnie. In my stories, she faces the things I’m scared of and she says the things I wish I’d said. Life tears her apart; she collapses, but then she rises again and rebuilds herself from the ground up. And she’s so very strange. Like I am. Like we are. 

I write fanfic because I’m strange, and by putting my own strangeness on a page, I connect with other people who are like me. I write the stories I need to read, because I know there are other people out there who need to read them too. I write the kinks that shouldn’t turn me on and the confrontations that hurt my heart and the sweeping strangeness because it scares me, but it also starts a conversation. 

Hey. I understand that. I’m the same way. You’re not the only one. And we’re both okay.  

—

About the author

I’m Audrey, I’m an artist in my thirties, I live in Los Angeles and I write smutty literature. On some level, every story I tell is a love story. I like writing deep, complicated feelings into filthy smut, filthy smut into angst fic, angsty arcs into love stories, and profound epic love into fic about kittens. I’m drawn to characters who are broken but persist. My ask box is open and I am always up for a conversation about femslash, “extreme” fic, writing sex, kittens, and any character played by Liza Weil. We are all strange and weird is wonderful.

Tumblr: audreyimpossible.tumblr.com

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyV/works