#tw: Implied hypnosis

[forcemasculinisation]

PLEASE SHARE + REBLOG

(TW: Suicide)

I didn’t want to make this post, but my situation been getting worse.

If you follow me or interact with my forced masculinization posts, you are probably some sort of transmasculine or transgender.

I am transmasc myself and have recently been dealing with my abusive parents after returning home from university.

They don’t know I am transgender, and they never will.

My sibling and I want to get out. We are finding it harder to live with them, and want to life independently. We know that if we come out we will be kicked out, as they have threatened it before.

It is very possible that after university, I may be homeless. It’s hard for me to find a job as an autistic man. Even as a black trans man who doesn’t exactly pass. These things may seem trivial to some of you, but you’ll never know how hard my identity makes it for me to just survive.

I’ve considered (and attempted) suicide. I’ve considered running away. I’m scared, and my support system is currently nowhere near me because of my parents pressuring me to stay at their house.

I want to be able to pay for top surgery, get out of this house, and start looking for ways to get testosterone.

Even £1 is fine. £5, I’d be grateful for. Anything helps.

I don’t even think this will spread as far as my other posts did, but if you see this, please just like or reblog.

And please don’t give unless you really have the money to spare. I feel bad enough that I’m asking, but again, anything helps.

PayPal: @lathanml

Thank you for reading this far.

[digenerate-trash]

Harper with starcrossed is crazy ngl💀

okay- I tried so hard. Please enjoy

AMAB Harper | GN PC

TW hypnosis | implied molestation | implied rape | implied blowjob | malpractice

Arriving at the hosbital early as always harper adjusts his shirt and tie and fiddles with his pen. He's been practicing quite a bit lately and he's eager to show off. Though he knows that sometimes you don't always have the time to indulge him. Really it's just a hope of his. That you'll let him have as much time with you as he wants. Though it's a long shot... you're always busy after all...

But still he has hope as he strolls into the office. Clean as ever. He glances at the desk and the lab coat hanging off it. Wasting no time at all he let's his fingers trace over the fabric of it before taking it off the chair and fitting it over his shoulders. A little too snug for him but he loves the feeling.

He adjusts his glasses and sits down at the desk smiling to himself as he takes out his pen and starts to spin it between his fingers. He's happy. Relaxed. In an environment he knows and even loves. And soon. You'll be here.

Harper looks over the desk taking in every detail. Adjusting everything almost compulsively as he waits for your arrival. He admires the degrees on the wall. The negelcted plant in the cornner. He flips through the Callander looking over every appointment for the next few months. He can't even describe the feeling he gets as he sits here.

"... harper-" your voice is sweet like a bell. As you open the door. Harper gets up and smiles so wide your sure it must hurt. "You're wearing my coat again." You say slightly exasperated as you walk over to your desk and place down your clipboard.

"Sorry- just wanted to see what it would be like to be the doctor for once." Harper apologies. He takes off the coat gingerly putting it back over your desk chair before he returns to his usual side of the desk. He sits in the chair opposite yours as you take your seat and the note pad you use to document harpers progress.

He sits in the little padded chair. His legs are awkwardly pressed together as he fiddles with a pen, he's almost 22. Obsessive. Has a superiority complex, and dispite being very odd he's polite.

"I'm glad you could make it to your appointment harper-" you say in Ernest "I'm glad your committing to your progress to lead a healthier life."

"Yes well. How can I refuse when they said for one hour a week I'd get to be locked in a room with you?" Haper says. You let out a sigh. This again.

"Harper. We've talked about your professionalism before-" you start.

"I'm kidding!" Harper intersects almost too quickly.

"Still. Remeber that doctors and paintents can't talk to eachother like that. The boundries between medical professionals and the people they care for are there for a reason. It's unethical to get personaly involved." You scribbled harpers response down before continuing "and I'm afraid your deflection instead of agknowaging your mistake sets you back once again. You can't hide behind a facade of humor every time you say something unseamly. It's better just to think before you speak."

Harper looks disappointed as he grips his pen. But still you continue on. "Why don't you start the session. Tell me how your week was. How are you adjusting to life outside the asylum?"

Harper twitches a bit at the word another thing to note down. He's still uncomfterble.

"It's fine... I have an apartment now- and a TV that I can change the channels on..." Harper says leaning back in his chair. "but I've been reading about hypno therapy lately. And to tell you the truth I'm fascinated..."

"What about hypnotic therapy do you find yourself being interested in?" You ask. Writing down brod strokes of what harper has said.

Harper seems to grin a bit wider as he continues "I think I could be one. I'm a pretty quick learner. And the material is easy to understand. I think I might have found a talent in it."

You nod along adding the sentence 'paitent is desprate for control' in your notes.

"Mind if I show you?" Harper says. The request is so Ernest that you tentivly agree. And harper holds up the pen. Swining it back and forth.

Harper tells you to keep your focus and you do. He continues to keep the pace of the pen and you keep stareing

Your mouth goes dry but you don't close it. Haper seems happy. Excited even but you're not sure why. The rest of the therapy session is like a dream. You're pretty sure harper has done something bad. But you can't image what as you wipe the salty taste from your mouth. As you head out to the break room you don't remeber ending the session with harper but your left thirsty and confused.

You must just be out of it today. As you drink a glass of water and look over your notes you only have more questions.

"Cured" is written out in your handwriting.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Nightingale's Song

Sigh Not So | Secrets Hid Away | Shed Tears Aplenty | Fire Down Below | Rolling Down | Won't You Go My Way? | The Seas No More | The Nightingale's Song |

CW: Dehumanizing language, use of ‘it’ as pronoun for nonhuman whumpee, sadistic whumper, creepy whumper, intimate whumper, fade-to-black noncon implied, magical whump, captivity, minor side character death

-

One year after the events of The Seas No More

Gilly, fingers itching to close around the old biddy’s skinny neck, settled for laying the cool compress over her forehead, taking pains to look like nothing so much as the devoted tenant helping his landlady through some terrible mysterious illness. 

It had been a very, very long eight months or so since he'd started this little act, feigning devotion and care for the old woman, and it was with very real relief that he finally saw the end in sight.

Mrs. Neumann’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her little yappy dog running circles below her where she was laid out on the chaise in her less-fashionable front room. It stopped, now and then, to lick at her fingers, and then ran in circles again. 

“Water, please, Gilly,” Mrs. Neumann croaked, and he smiled solicitously as he tipped the cup to her lips, allowing her only a few sips before pulling it back away. “Thank you, you sweet young man.” Her cold bony fingers closed around his wrist and Gilly suppressed a shudder only with effort. "You have been so good to me, in these hard days..." Her eyes, when they met his, were strangely foggy, as if covered with a sort of film that stood between her and the world. “You have been such a boon to an old woman with no one to care for her. There is some infection, I should think… We must send for the doctor, mustn’t we?”

“The doctor has already come and gone,” Gilly said, leaning close and half-shouting in the hopes she could hear anything he said. Her mouth worked aimlessly, and he gave her more water, although it didn't seem to help. “Do you not remember?” Her hearing had gotten even worse since her illness had taken hold of her - or since the siren's song had convinced her that she was ill, anyway - and soon enough, he thought, all this shouting could finally cease. 

“Oh, he did?,” Mrs. Neumann quavered, eyes watering. But then she seemed to forget her emotions and looked to the side. “I suppose so… He must have. Oh, but Gilly, who is singing? The voice is so fine…”

In the corner, Gilly’s siren sang, plaintive and mournful, as he’d been ordered to. He hadn’t wanted to turn his song to Gilly's will, but with a year of careful teaching he had taught the creature to obey him without hesitation, and they were finally ready to put Gilly’s plan into motion.

It began here.

His future would start here at Mrs. Neumann’s sickbed, where beneath the notes of the lovely song were the commands being worked into the elderly widow’s malleable little mind while she burned with unchecked fever. 

The doctor came and said there is nothing to be done now but rest. Gilly Wentworth cares for you now. Leave him everything you have. He deserves all you have and more. 

He deserves everything. 

“He's a friend,” Gilly replied to her question, shouting right against her ear and getting almost no sign she was aware of him at all. Her eyes shifted, moving as if following the notes of Areyto’s beautiful song. The clouds over her irises were thickening. “He sings well indeed! It was a miracle I found him!"

“As the hart on the mountain so was my love brave,” The siren sang, powerful tenor rising and falling. Its eyes were distant, its body relaxed in a way it never was otherwise. But even Gilly could see that the siren loved the act of using its voice, not only for luring wayward sailors but simply to sing at all. “So handsome, manly and clever. So kind and sincere and he loved me so dear - oh, Edwin, thy equal was never..."

“How beautiful,” Mrs. Neumann whispered, lips barely moving. He watched the fog on her eyes overtake them entirely as the spell in the siren’s voice took hold of her. “Oh, Gilly, you have done more than anyone could ever be asked to do for me… it's a pity, what happened with your father… you should have kept your riches…"

“Yes,” Gilly whispered, leaning closer. “Yes, I should have…"

"A pity," The old woman repeated, reaching blindly for him, unable now to see anything but what the siren commanded. "Such a pity… you deserve everything…"

Gilly shivered with anticipation, breathing harder. "Yes, yes, I do…"

Even the little yappy dog had gone silent, now, head cocked with its ears up as it listened, seated on the ground. Gilly wondered idly if the dog would try to give him all its stupid little bones or something, if the siren’s magic could speak to the hearts of animals, too. 

It didn't work on animals, everyone knew that. But then it wasn't supposed to work on women, either, and here was Mrs. Neumann wholly ensorcelled by it.

He would have to go see Atabei, and tell her, after this was over.

“You have been such a good and kind gentleman…” She murmured, and he held her hand in both of his, soft papery wrinkled skin cradled between his palms. “I will leave you everything, everything you deserve…”

“Yes," Gilly repeated, more insistently this time, leaning even closer. He could smell her now, the rosewater she dabbed at her neck and wrists each day like clockwork when she rose, the sour note of her sweat beneath. It wouldn’t be long now.

As soon as she signed.

“But now he is dead and gone to death’s bed,” The siren continued, “He’s cut down like a rose in full bloom. He’s fallen asleep and left me here to weep by the sweet silver light of the moon…”

Mrs. Neumann’s mouth had fallen open, a look of serenity overtaking her features entirely but for the clouds over her eyes. Gilly left her for the moment and went over to a table near to the door, grabbing the sheaf of papers there, an inkwell and pen. He returned, settled himself back next to her, and began to speak to her in a soft voice.

She heard, somewhere, deep beneath the deafness that had come on her with age and the siren’s song. The siren commanded her to hear him, so she did.

He explained how important it was that she leave her wealth to someone who would use it wisely, that her friends and the church could not be trusted with it - only Gilly Wentworth, who cared for her so faithfully, deserved her fortune.

She nodded, and wept a little at the selfless nature of such a man, and then she took the pen.

The old woman signed every paper he gave her, her signature unmistakably her own and unwavering, even though she never looked directly at any of the words. He’d had these drawn up himself by a solicitor who had remarked, also, on the fine quality of his friend’s singing, before his own eyes had clouded.

When they had left the solicitor's office, the man had remembered no such song, only Gilly himself, and how kind he was to care so for an old woman alone in the world.

He would file the papers, once Mrs. Neumann finally kicked over the bucket and went on to the endless pile of her previous beloved yappy dogs in the sky, waiting for their mistress to greet them. Really, it wasn’t like she was doing anything with her wealth anyway. 

Gilly intended to do quite a lot with her wealth.

“Roll on, silver moon, guide the traveler’s way when the nightingale’s song is in tune,” The siren’s voice shifted, went so painfully sad that tears welled in Mrs. Neumann’s eyes, moved by the mourning the siren could mimic but, Gilly thought, not actually fully feel. “Never more with my lover shall I stray by the sweet silver light of the moon…”

She signed.

And she signed.

And she signed.

When he had all he needed, he put the sheaf of papers back, poured a glass of a scarlet liquid into a crystal cordial glass, and then set it into Mrs. Neumann’s hands, closing her fingers around it. She didn’t seem to notice, frozen in place by the strength and power of the siren’s song. 

Smiling, Gilly walked slowly towards the corner where his captive magic creature stood, lit by the strong yellow sun coming in the windows. Despite the immensity of emotion in its song, there was an emptiness in its dark eyes that sent a thrill down Gilly’s spine and pooled a greedy heat within him begging to be released. The sun touched the edges of its black curls and turned them to gold, shone warm on smooth brown skin.

Naked, it was a vision, an ancient statue brought to life by the favor - or curse - of ancient gods. Gilly came to a stop beside it, looking over its finely-formed face, the imprints of his fingers still, eternally, written clearly in purples and reds around the slim column of its neck. His eyes moved down, following the complicated swell of magical symbols that held it firmly in check, bound it without question to his will. The siren looked down and away from him, the song… shifting just a little. 

The note of wistful loss that the words called for became something stronger but far more painful to hear, a wailing plea to the heavens for help trapped within its perfect pitch. And yet no help could come.

Not for such a monster, not with the magic keeping it still for Gilly’s every touch, for as long as he commanded it to be. 

“His grave I will seek until morning appears and weep for my lover so brave…”

Gilly laid his hand against the siren’s face, palm to its cheek, and its voice wavered a little as its dark eyes closed.

“I’ll embrace cold turf and wash with my tears the flowers that bloom o’er his grave…”

With avid delight and no small amount of desire he followed the trail of a tear that ran down its other cheek and settled at the corner of its mouth. He touched his thumb to the spot and then licked the salt off it. To see the creature at its wicked work was… truly beautiful to behold. To know that it wept because it could do nothing but obey him - him, Gilly Wentworth, just a man in a world full of men and yet now one of the most powerful men alive - was… incredible.

Awe-inspiring.

And they had only just begun.

“Never again shall my bosom know joy,” The siren’s voice dipped to low, a hushed and mournful lament. “With my Edwin I hope to be soon. Lovers shall weep o’er where we both sleep by thy sweet silver light, bonny moon.”

Gilly checked back on Mrs. Neumann, and smiled. She stared off into space, her chest moving fitfully with emotion. The money, the house, the horses even… all of it would be Gilly’s very, very soon.

Really, it was like she was investing in him.

Just like everyone else was going to do.

Pity she wouldn’t see the returns.

“Have her drink what’s in the cup,” He whispered. The siren took a breath and obeyed, changing its power minutely.

“Roll on, silver moon, guide the traveler’s way when the nightingale’s song is in tune…”

Gilly watched as Mrs. Neumann, seemingly in a trance, lifted the cup to her lips and drank it all, swallow after swallow, some of the liquid running from the corners of her mouth to wet her hair and the chaise beneath her. 

He smiled.

“And never, never more with my lover I’ll stray by thy silver light, bonny moon…”

The final note hung in the air, as Mrs. Neumann’s eyes slowly closed. She relaxed back into the chaise, her hand dropping, the cup clinking onto the floor and rolling away, the last drops of poison spilling like water to evaporate and leave no trace of themselves behind.

Gilly exhaled, then walked with purpose back to the siren. 

It raised its eyes, briefly, to meet his just as he grabbed it by the arms and shoved its back against the wall. A gilded mirror hanging next to it crashed to the ground, cracking into pieces, and the little dog took to yapping again. 

It stared at him with naked, unhidden fear. 

“Good,” Gilly murmured, an inch from its false man’s face. Uneven breath on its lips, those eyes like pools of deep water locked on his. There were still red welts on its back, new ones thanks to Gilly discovering that even its pain sounded pretty, and he enjoyed the soft sound the siren made as its back was ground against the wallpaper.

He put one hand around its neck, thumb pressing just over its pulse, and felt it flutter and jump under his touch as the siren bared its neck to him, as he had taught it always to do. To defy even this touch would result in a misery the stupid sea creature could not bear. Even the dumbest animals could be trained, after all. Even the stupidest, most stubbornly beautiful man-shaped things could learn. 

Its voice was thin and airy. “M-Master-... please-"

“You did wonderfully,” He breathed. “A perfect tool for my will. Now we must find someone to take the dog - it’s irritating but I won’t leave it to starve here, will I? I’m not so heartless as all that - and then we’ll sell the house and the horses and all this nonsense and frippery she keeps… and then we’ll be on our way, won’t we?” He leaned forward, speaking against the siren’s ear just to feel the way its body shivered against his. “You and I. Now. Kneel for me.”

“Yes, master.” Its voice went dull. Its mimicry lost its shine, and everything fell flat from its mouth like heavy stone. It always spoke like that, when he commanded it to its knees. 

Gilly didn’t mind. 

Behind him, as the poison took hold, he heard Mrs. Neumann's breath go suddenly rapid and rasping, heard her fall from the chaise to the floor, arms and legs rigid, muscles spasming.

It would only last a few moments.

Then she would slip into unconsciousness and finally to her death, and Gilly would be one step closer to everything he'd ever wanted.

He let go and stepped back, watching the siren gracefully sink down onto Mrs. Neumann’s expensive woven rug.

Gilly put a hand in its hair, gripped tight enough to make it whimper with the pain when he pulled its head back. “I need to write a letter to Atabei." His other hand worked at his breeches, and his eyes took in the way the thing shuddered at the sight with greedy, rising lust. "Have to tell her it worked on a woman. I should see if it works on other women... Need to tell Beibei I finally have the coins to come see her for a visit. Be dressed in real finery, for once."

"Yes, master."

"Sssshhh. Open your mouth for me."

He closed his eyes, buried both hands in the siren’s thick hair, and gave himself over to his triumph and the perfect pleasure of the siren’s tears. 

-

Taglist: @burtlederp  @finder-of-rings  @theelvishcowgirl  @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump  @bloodinkandashes  @squishablesunbeam  @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings

Covers @whumptober prompts 13, 14, 15

[t4tozier]

feeding kink trance with zaraporterjace where porters been stressed about his intake so they drop him for a day so he doesn’t have to think about it <3

Yeah. Yeah. it’s been a Bad Week for porter and they know it. zara obviously doesn’t need to eat and i think jace is bad at Remembering to eat but has no issue w actually eating he doesn’t gaf what he has as long as it tastes good. but porter keeps himself on such a strict schedule and regimen that it’s noticeable when he strays from that. jace asking him what he had for lunch and porter saying something vague (it’s always the same thing. there’s no reason for him to not know). zara saying lucilla left some cupcakes in the faculty lounge for everyone and porter going on a Long rant about how it’ll fuck up his calories for the day when zara didn’t even specifically say he should have one.

they can tell it’s getting to him worse this week. they don’t know why, but they’re gonna help because their boy needs to eat!! jace can’t cook to save his life and zara has no reason to so they order in from some chinese restaurant and have it all laid out like a buffet when porter gets back from work. and basically the second he steps through the door and sees it he’s gearing up to say no, it’s too greasy, too much fat, too many carbs, but they’re both wrapping around him and stroking his hair and purring in his ear about just let us take care of you, darling, you don’t need to think about any of that, just let us feed you and let yourself feel good, and porter suddenly realizes he’s hungry. boiled chicken and steamed broccoli 7 times a week is just not cutting it for his goliath metabolism, and he can’t remember the last time he had takeout. so he lets his partners lead him over to the table and sit him down.

jace feeds porter in between bites of his own food and zara sits in his lap, stroking his face, rubbing his stomach, telling him how good he’s being for them, eating all this for them, and isn’t it nice? doesn’t it feel good to stop worrying about macros and just enjoy the food he’s eating? and porter has to agree that it does, it feels so good, and they’re being so nice to him and zara’s so close and smells nice and jace is giving him That Look as he puts another helping on porter’s plate and fuck he might be getting hard. but he definitely starts getting hard when his pants start getting tight and jace reaches over to unbutton them for him. there we go, doesn’t that feel so much better? now you can keep eating, if you want. and the last words are just on this side of being challenging, and porter doesn’t back out of a challenge. but more than that, he finds that he actually does want to. he keeps one arm around zara and, without breaking eye contact with jace, pulls his plate closer to finish it off. jace just beams, and zara kisses his jaw. you’re being such a good boy for us, darling.

eat up.

[newnoirstories]

Dark, Surreal Noir Comedy

[Once again, the inclusion of a religious or mystical practice in any of my stories does not constitute an endorsement of it.]

"Arjuna's Bow"

Chapter I

Detective Sammy Drayson, NYPD, dealt mainly with crime in the East Village. Art, drugs and the occasional homicide, Drayson thought. Drayson specialized in the homicides.

1986 was the year, the hipsters of the new kind were rising, the kind Broadway would immortalize, the kind that would be cliché in two or three decades, but at the time, they were the new hippies, and being one meant something, whether you liked them or not.

But then, there was the other side of it: The addiction, the AIDS epidemic, both so common among the artists, and wherever there were narcotics, some would fight to the death over them, others to the death over who sold them, and then there were those who killed for reasons no one understood.

But while Drayson, who believed in nothing he could not see, pored over the tedious red tape at his desk, in an apartment in East Village, Apartment 61 on 13th Street, a woman known to her neighbors only as "Adam L", no context or explanation, was trying to invoke powers at which the cynical Sammy would have laughed, but soon he would believe.

Taking an ebony wand, hardly a traditional wand of the old Druids, given where ebony trees grow, Adam L touched it to the portrait of a man, then to a treasure chest of sorts, and back and forth, chanting in the old Enochian language of Dee and Kelley, until finally, with a yell, she exclaimed, very much in English, "Puppet!"

Chapter II

On a rainy day about a week later, the first of several unsolved homicides occurred. No robbery, no apparent motive: A 52-year-old man out walking his dog was the victim, taken by surprise with a knife. Though his faithful canine friend obviously put up a fight, and likely left some mark on the assailant, the dog, mixed in breed, was too small to prevent the crime.

Drayson heard of the case, but it seemed like the random act of a junkie, and no leads could be found… until four days later, when similar injuries were found on the remains of woman, 27, on the same street, then, just over a week later, an elderly couple, octogenarians at that, all the same: Probably the same weapon, the same lack of motive, and within a radius of less than a quarter of a mile.

Even as Sammy was on the scene of the poor elderly man and woman, in came a call that a young man of 19 died in identical circumstances in a parking lot, perhaps two hundred yards from where Drayson stood, but by now, the killer had gotten away, and Drayson was hearing no end of it from the Captain, though Captain Marsh was concerned more with bad press than with lives.

This time, though, there was a witness, but not one that a district attorney would covet. An old Cornish man, Tom Carew, a painter of some local repute, claimed to get a fleeting glimpse of the killer, but having a limp, he said, it was no use giving chase. In his Cornish dialect, he insisted that the killer was a woman wearing the mask of a man, but also rambled something that Drayson took to be about a man carrying a boom box playing music.

Nine times out of ten, Drayson would have put one word in his notes, that being "gibberish", over such a story, but his job had been threatened, and he was desperate enough to take dilligent notes, in so far as he could understand Cornish:

"Flick o' the wan' o' the cunning wom'n, 'tis what took the souls. Street 13 an' oak, proper fit for her, pale and wan wi' a wan', she is. Looks a maid, 'tis old in deed. Cunning maid pilfered the ol' swag chest 'o Blood Barq."

Such was Carew's explanation of who he thought responsible for the crime he had witnessed.

Chapter III

"I am so desperate," remarked Drayson at headquarters, "That I'm going to Sleepy Brown."

David "Sleepy" Brown was a Lieutenant in the force, 62 years of age, whose greatest asset to the force was as a historian and linguist. He had solved many an antiques caper and fraud, spoke and wrote perfect Greek, Latin, Spanish and Hebrew, as well as English and every Celtic language, and though not from Cornwall, but from Devon, originally, before his parents moved him, as a child, to New York, it was for this last bit of expertise that Drayson needed him.

With typical lack of protocol, finding an unlocked door, Drayson simply let himself in to Brown's office, where the old man seemed to be nodding off, fitting his nickname. Drayson sneered.

"Lovely sneer, Detective. By the way, the sole of your right shoe needs mending," remarked the Lieutenant, revealing that, as was so often the case, his drowsy appearance was an act, "You are here about the Cornish witness, I presume?"

Analyzing Drayson's jumbled notes, Brown opined, "Look for an Apartment 61 on 13th Street, and if you find a woman fond of Druid wands and treasure chests, you will find someone relevant to your investigation."

"How on earth do you know what apartment to look for?"

"This… shall we say, eccentric old fellow was speaking in a sort of mystical code. 61 is the gematria- that's a kind of esoteric code- for 'oak'."

"What about Blood Bark?"

"Blood Barq, with a 'q', Detective, though there are several theories as to the etymology. It's a legend of a British pirate with a lost treasure. No one knows his real name, or even whether he existed with certainty, so they call him Blood Barq."

"You are seriously proposing that a dead pirate has something to do with this case?"

"No, I am proposing that a delusional person might believe he did, however."

With that, Brown closed his eyes and returned to what was either slumber or meant to give that impression.

Chapter IV

Detective Drayson found an Apartment 61 on 13th Street, not far from where the murders occurred, but while a woman's voice answered, all she would say is that, if he had no search warrant, he was not welcome, and that she would answer no questions. It was Adam L's apartment, and Drayson scrambled off to try to find her birth name, but before this, another unexpected witness, as it seemed, came forward.

A man was at the station claiming to be the man with the boom box seen by Carew, saying that his conscience was bothering him. His name was George Clay.

"Okay, officers, I'm taking the chance. You know I got a record and I don't want no trouble, but I swear to you, I didn't know anything about a murder."

"What did you know?" asked Drayson, in his sternest voice.

"Look, all I know is this man, sunglasses and a beard, maybe a fake beard, I don't know. Sunglasses and it was rainin'. Anyhow, he shows me this freaky person, not sure if it was a guy or a girl, but anyway, he says he'll pay me $500 just to follow him, or her, or whatever around and play my boom box for a few blocks, as long as I play the song he wants."

"What song?"

"'Tragedy', a Bee Gees song. Now I'm more a funk man, and that ain't…"

"Get to the point!"

"Anyhow, this crazy person freaks hearin' the song, pulls a knife and attacks the nearest person, as far as I could see, some skinny white kid."

"And you did nothing?"

"Look, man, I got a record. I panicked, okay? But I'm here now, right, and I didn't have to tell you anything, or even let you know I was there!"

Chapter V

Kenny "Dum Dum" Wallace Jr. was the bassist for a struggling glam metal act calling itself "Long Live the Buzz Flies". On his way to a poorly-built recording studio aptly named "The Leaky Roof", he was approached by a man with a beard and sunglasses, again on an overcast day, offered $500 for the simple act of carrying a boom box playing "Tragedy" by the Bee Gees and following someone, someone with the face of a man, but a feminine walk.

Wallace shrugged, and did as instructed, but as in Clay's story, the strange person flew into a frenzy, pulled a knife, and for a moment, Dum Dum thought he was the intended target, but instead, the victim was a 39-year-old accountant, Anderson Tall. This time, though, there was a witness to the entire sequence of events, and not only the killing, Marjorie "Meddler" Davison, a 67-year-old woman feared as much as any man on the streets, in her own way, as a notorious gossip rumored to leverage information for blackmail, someone who knew everything about everybody, it seemed.

She considered blackmailing the band, until attending one of their concerts and seeing the small crowd. Instead, Davison went to the police, but tried to insist on being paid for her information.

"In the first place, Meddler," said Drayson sharply, "If we paid you, it would set a precedent where every lowlife like you could shake us down. Second, it would destroy the credibility of what you saw, to the DA. How about you tell us what happened and we won't go after you for about, maybe, six or seven blackmail operations you have going on at this moment?"

With that, Davison described what she had seen, and the pattern was undeniable, if grotesque. Drayson was planning on looking into whether anyone known to be unstable, like an escaped hospital patient, might be involved, when Lieutenant Brown casually strolled into the room with a dossier on just such a person, Courtney Randall Cline, noted as "paranoid schizophrenic", "homicidal ideations", yet for some reason given permission, just two days before the killings began, "to visit family".

Chapter VI

Uniformed police and street gossip had it that Courtney Cline was living out of a van, an old hippie one, but painted over a silvery gray. Police approached her, and she was wearing a mask in the detailed likeness of a man, though which man was unclear.

"I don't care if you're cops. You play that disco song, you die."

The officers, with great difficulty, cuffed her as a dangerous suspect, but she calmed down when promised that no disco music would be played, and after that, blandly and indifferently recounted committing all six murders, explaining that strange men kept following her with "that horrid song", and "made me do it". When asked about the mask, which she removed only with reluctance, she said that she found it in her room at the mental hospital, and it was a likeness of William "Wolf" Woolley, soon verified as an actual patient in the same wing of the same hospital, and a known murderer himself, albeit found insane. Woolley, however, had been in the hospital during all six killings, and so could not have been directly involved.

Courtney R. Cline was arrested on six counts of second-degree murder, though it was suspected that she would, like Wolf, be acquitted by an insanity defense.

"You think you have solved the case, eh, Drayson?" said Brown, ambling out of nowhere with his customary quiet ease.

"Of course, and you don't?"

"We know who physically carried out the crimes, but why this same song, and this mysterious man I hear of, the false beard and the $500 offers to random men?"

"I admit that is odd, but how can I ever prove any of that?"

The Lieutenant shook his head and smiled, "If you would only use a bit of imagination, Detective. None of Cline's notes say anything about a fixation regarding music, as one might reasonably expect if said music drove her into homidical fits."

"And what does that suggest, Sherlock Holmes?" asked Drayson insolently.

"Sherlock is suggesting that someone at the hospital conditioned Miss Cline as a sort of post-hypnotic suggestion. Follow that lead to the ends of the earth, Detective. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to earning the nickname 'Sleepy'."

Chapter VII

Again reluctantly following Sleepy's advice, Drayson found, rather to his surprise, that Wolf Woolley's notes did indeed include the warning, "Violent reaction to disco". There could also be no question that Cline's mask was a perfect likeness of Woolley.

Dr. Karl Steele gave the NYPD full access to both records and to the premises. One thing struck Drayson, however: All of the staff agreed that, at least in Cline's absence, there could be no question that Woolley was their most dangerous patient, yet Wolf was not in the "isolation room", a sort of equivalent of solitary confinement.

"That's Dr. Steele's idea," explained a nurse, "He said that Mr. Woolley is incurable, nothing changes him, but that the isolation room might change the behavior of some of the other patients."

Detective Drayson was permitted to look into the isolation room, and could scarcely believe the surreal horror within: A man in a straitjacket wore also a mask of William Woolley's likeness, as faintly, the song "Tragedy" could be heard playing, interspersed with the voice of Wolf ranting his hatred of the disco genre, and back and forth, causing the patient to writhe in torment.

The nurses and orderlies seemed to think nothing of this, calling it "an experimental therapy" and "Dr. Steele's idea". An even greater shock: Detective Drayson was suddenly face to face with the gaunt yet imposing figure of Dr. Karl Steele, his deeply recessed eyes glistening cold malevolence, a tight-lipped smile seeming to speak death.

Chapter VIII

Even Drayson's hardened nerves got a terrible start, but suddenly, Steele's demeanor seemed to relax, and he laughed, albeit with a cynical ring.

"Detective, Detective, we mustn't have anxiety. I let you see that. I knew that you would deduce it sooner or later- either you or that old Lieutenant."

"You're the killer!" exclaimed Drayson.

"The killer? I never touched a soul, never gave any instructions to anyone so much as to jaywalk, Detective."

"Conditioning… you hypnotized them!"

"Welcome to the future. The quaint moral laws of Abrahamic times are dying slowly, Detective. There are chessmasters and there are pawns. I have demonstrated that I am a chessmaster. Mr. Woolley… well, he has the will to power, but not the clarity. I have both. You have the potential for both too, Detective. I read in your eyes a deep distrust for the lies of the old ways, and a potential for the new."

"Maybe so," replied Drayson, recovering his nerve, "But what you fail to read is that I would rather die than break my oath to uphold the law. You won't touch me, will you, Doctor? You want others to do the dirty work."

"That is what you call it," shrugged Steele, "But return as you like, you have nothing on me."

The next day, Detective Samuel Drayson, instructing his uniformed help to wait outside the building, returned to the hospital, barging directly into Steele's private office.

"I've been expecting you, but to what avail?" smugly cooed the Doctor.

"That's right. You never said a word. Never told them to do a thing."

"Exactly…"

"Neither did I…" Drayson retorted, his eyes set cold as the Doctor's. Into the room, unrestrained and feral, lurched William Woolley himself, a sight that shook even Dr. Steele.

With a theatrical air, Drayson took out a tape recorder, then stepped back, so that Wolf was closest to the Doctor.

"Tragedy, when the feeling's gone, and you can't go on, it's tragedy…"

In the frenzy of a rabid beast, Wolf attacked, fists and teeth, as Dr. Steele screamed, the last sounds he would ever make, as Drayson locked the door behind the two, escaping as hospital staff desperately rushed to respond.

Chapter IX

"Wolf will be trying to escape, likely out the front way, and if not, I have men at the back," said Drayson.

Indeed, Wolf, covered in evidence of his savage attack on the late Dr. Steele, helped himself to the front exit, only to be captured by nine policemen, one of them Drayson, though not before biting one of them.

Wolf looked up at one of the cops, who in spite of the struggle, still had a cigarette in his mouth. For the first time, Woolley spoke, laughing and saying to the smoker, "You're crazy too."

Meanwhile, somewhere in the United States of America, the quality control inspector of the very cigarette this policeman smoked lived a life in turmoil, his wife having an affair as he tried to drown his sorrow. As the factory man threw a bottle of whiskey at a photograph of his wedding, Jeremy Thomas met with the flashes of cameras. Thomas was founder, chairman and CEO of Jeremy Thomas Holdings, which held a controlling share in the liquor company profiting from the broken man's sorrow, but he was announcing giving a portion of his billions to United Governments, a philanthropic organization dedicated to world peace.

The flash of the cameras gave way to the flash of lightning, however, as the money Thomas "donated" was being illicitly invested in the Medellín Cartel of Colombia, as haggard Colombian workers picked coca leaves in a storm of rain and thunder, the lightning giving way to neon lights in the middle of the night, somewhere in an American city, a man slumped over, a man broken by cocaine.

Jeremy Thomas, as it turned out, had not always been wealthy, though he had always been unscrupulous. Prior to his wealth, he was briefly married to Lillian Morgan, now calling herself "Adam L", bitter over never having touched Jeremy's later fortune. If the Fates were not capricious enough, the very secretary named as co-respondent by Morgan in her divorce from Thomas had, in turn, just married none other than Lieutenant David Brown, twenty-four years her senior, as if an aging Sherlock Holmes wed a surviving Jayne Mansfield, though Mansfield, of course, was more clever than the public knew.

Brown's loud sounds on the wedding night, in somewhat of a British accent, annoyed the neighbors. Meanwhile, Detective Sammy Drayson, ever the contrarian, was a basketball fan, but not a fan of the New York Knicks, but of the Boston Celtics, and on a rare vacation, was in Boston, watching the most successful playoff run of the 1985-86 Boston Celtics, for once forgetting the wretched world around him.

The end.

[isa-meme-lol]

New art alert :0

So yeah I don’t have much to say about this artwork other than I had some fun doing this one, plus this was my chance to experiment with this artstyle and different poses.

Fun fact: I decided to have this drawing match with a drawing here that was made by my friend, Calvin :]

https://www.tumblr.com/plasmagruntcalvin/718658541625507840/blacklight-brainwashing

Anyway, hope ya like this artwork.

[raktanag]

Camera cuts to Kalyan hypnotizing the grey heathens into walking right into his awaiting maw

[csaventing]

I've learnt about hypnosis therapy and now I'm thinking if that could be helpful for me. I have a lot of memory issues and feel like I have forgotten parts of my childhood that I would like to get back, even if they are unpleasant, because this absence makes me constantly sick. I get flashbacks that I cannot confirm nor totally dismiss, so maybe hypnosis therapy can help me finally come to terms with my childhood memories?

Any suggestions or shared experiences would be highly appreciated.

I don’t have personal experience with it but from what I have heard, having the goal of bringing back memories within any type of therapy can increase the risk of false memories.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Mesmerized.

Pairing: Yandere!Lyney x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 0.8k.

TW: Hypnosis, Unhealthy Relationships, General Lose of Autonomy, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Stalking, and Obsessive Behavior.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

“You’re getting crueler, brother.”

Lynette watched you stir at the sound of her voice, nearly identical to that of your dearly beloved, but you slackened as soon as you realized it was only his sister, melting back into place against Lyney’s side. Your expression was one of vacant bliss; all glassy eyes and careless smiles, worry only visible in the dark circles laced under your eyes, the pained creases folded into either corner of your mouth. A poor imitation, altogether. You looked more like yourself when you were angry.

Lyney hummed, resting his head on your shoulder. As if trained to, you cooed softly and raised a hand, carding your fingers through his hair as he spoke, self-satisfaction heavy in his voice. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Is it cruel to want to spend time with one’s dearly cherished?”

“Father said not to let the public see them until—”

“—until we’ve fallen in love,” Lyney finished. It was a clipped summary, to say the least. In reality, Lord Arlecchino’s order had played more closely to the tune of ‘until you’ve collared your pet properly’, but admittedly, Lynette might’ve missed something. She and Freminet had been listening from the other side of a steel door, and Lyney hadn’t been eager to discuss their conversation after her lecture ended. “And I’m sure, if you bothered to ask, you’d already know that we’re quite in love. Aren’t we, beautiful?”

“Quite in love,” you parroted. There was something strange about your inflection, as if you were trying to speak in a language you hadn’t yet mastered, but Lynette chose not to dwell on it.

“And I’d hardly call this the public,” Lyney went on, when Lynette made it clear that she had yet to be impressed. He made a quick, sweeping gesture to the rest of the backstage area – as if the technicians and stage-hands rushing between lighting rigs and half-assembled props were no more real than the silhouetted figures painted onto the set dressing they were hauling into place. “Think of it as… a trial run, to see how much we’ve improved. If everything goes well tonight, perhaps we’ll be able to attend Father’s next banquet together, too. I’ve been dying to introduce them to the rest of our family – preferably without all the screaming and biting, this time.”

That, Lynette could admit, would probably be for the best. She still had a bruise in the shape of your teeth on her left wrist from the day she’d met you, but Lyney still claimed it’d been one of your better first impressions.

“I’ve always wanted to see one of your shows.” You were cupping Lyney’s face, now, using your thumb to draw tender circles into his cheek. “I’ve always loved the opera. You’re playing the male lead, right?”

Lynette pursed her lips, her eyes widening slightly as she turned her attention pointedly towards her brother. He looked away. “I’m still working out the kinks. By this time next week, it should all be right as rain.”

Reluctantly, Lynette let her attention shift back to you. Your sleeves were long, dense with lace and tulle, but a patch of reddened, raw skin where the shackle had been wrapped around your wrist was just barely visible underneath the frivolous material. There was a slight tremble in your stiff shoulders, and when she looked closely, she could see that you were swaying; your legs weak from disuse, barely able to hold your own weight. Her brother, on the other hand – she could remember the last time she’d seen him smiling so widely. He been in a state of pure, untethered euphoria since the moment you were dragged, kicking and swearing, into one of the Fatui’s lesser-used underground holding facilities, and she rarely saw him without a glint in his eye and a light flush painted over her cheeks. It was almost upsetting, to see a face so much like her own so distorted. If she hadn’t been so used to his sudden flurries of passion, she might’ve been disturbed.

“It can’t last.” Lyney straightened, but she didn’t give him a chance to cut in. “The—the trance, I mean. You’re a magician, not a hypnotist. It’s going to wear off, eventually.”

“I’ve always hated stage magic,” you muttered, dreamily. “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I hate feeling like I’m the only person who doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“It doesn’t need to last forever, just long enough.” This time, it was Lyney who caught your chin in his hand, pulling you just close enough for a quick, shallow kiss. Lynette looked away before she could be forced to endure yet another unabashed show of affection, but she could still hear him far too clearly when he spoke seconds later, his voice now nearly distant as your own.

“Until we both manage to forget how we could ever live apart.”

[autumnywinter]

Runaway - Yandere!Vox

TW: Abusive behavior, hypnosis, suggestive, dubious consent implied

Reader is gender neutral

It was a miracle you managed to escape Vox. Not literally. Miracles aren't a thing in Hell, especially not for you. It was a fluke, a mistake on Vox's part, a happy accident that you took full advantage of. It was luck that he happened to have business in another ring on that specific day. You were able to slip out without him noticing, or any of the Vees for that matter.

Not that they really cared to begin with, only to avoid Vox's rage. They both acknowledged you, but as nothing but Vox's pet. That's what you felt like, so they weren't entirely wrong.

And now you were trying your best to avoid him, making your way through the Ring of Pride. You weren't sure where to go, just far away from Vox as possible.

It had been three days since your escape, and you hadn't heard anything about it on the news. But that was more because you were scared to stand next to any TV screen that wasn't bolted down and already turned off.

So you kept your head down, hood up, and tried to think of a plan.

You weren't sure how Vox would react when he finally found you. Well, angry, obviously. Furious even. Would he hypnotize you again? Probably. Not before ripping you a new one. He had never laid a hand on you, but that didn't mean he wouldn't now.

His constant surveillance would make it borderline impossible for something like this to happen again. You couldn't afford to fuck it up.

You felt like an animal on the run. A rat in a maze. Everything you did was to avoid him. It was too exhausting. And dangerous. You couldn't get enough rest to make up for it.

There were so many ways this could go wrong. And so many ways it could go worse. You were ready for anything, willing to do anything to stay away from him. You felt like you were at the end of your rope, but you didn't have any rope left, and you were starting to fall off the ledge.

You had no one. There was no one you could turn to for help, not here. Even if anyone took pity on you, no one would be willing to piss off an Overlord.

But you knew you couldn't keep this up forever. There was no way for you to leave the ring, and Vox had cameras everywhere. Honestly, you're surprised you even still had freedom. Not that it felt like it.

Maybe he wasn't looking for you at all. Maybe he was just waiting for you to come crawling back to him. Or maybe he was watching you right now, waiting for you to slip up so he could swoop in and reclaim you.

One thing you knew Vox would avoid at all costs was to ruin his reputation. He cared far too much about that. So he probably wouldn't want to advertise that his little pet had escaped from his leash. You imagined that was the only reason you were free, or else there'd be a bounty on your head right now.

As you trudged through the streets of Pride, you turned a corner and saw who you recognized as Vox's bodyguards. Though he had tons of them, you knew most of them. Whenever he was gone for business purposes, there'd always be at least two keeping a close eye on you.

Your heart pounded and you felt a wave of dread. But they hadn't seen you yet, and the sidewalk was crowded enough that you could quickly hide in the bustle. You tried to look as inconspicuous as possible while keeping your eyes on them. They seemed to be looking around, checking the crowd for something. Looking for you, you thought.

The crowd dissipated, but a little too soon. There were several more bodyguards on the other side of the street, and they quickly spotted you. Your breath hitched in your throat.

One of them raised a walkie-talkie to their mouth, and you broke out into a run.

You ran as fast as you could, zigzagging through the crowds and almost running into other demons. You turned corners and weaved through alleys, and you could hear the bodyguards not far behind.

Your hood blew off in your frantic running, but you didn't bother to pull it back up. You could barely breathe, the panic and terror taking over.

After what felt like forever, you managed to lose them. You were almost too exhausted to stand, leaning against a wall as you struggled to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell heavily as you gasped for air. Your legs were shaking violently.

There was a familiar sound of static behind you. Your heart stopped.

You spun around, only to come face to face with Vox. He wore an angry scowl, eyes narrowed darkly. You tried to step back, but you bumped into the wall behind you. He stood right in front of you, towering over you. He was absolutely terrifying like this, and you had no way to escape.

He reached out and grabbed your arm roughly, and you flinched and tried to yank away, but his grip was like iron. You looked around desperately for help, but there was no one around. Of course there wasn't. You had run so far from the busy streets, and it was far too late for anyone to be wandering around. If not for that, Vox probably wouldn't have shown up himself.

He dragged you back towards the limo waiting around the corner, ignoring your pleading and resistance. You clawed at his hand and dug your heels into the ground, but it was futile.

"Let go! Please!" you cried, trying to dig your heels into the ground, but Vox just kept pulling you along. You kicked and screamed, but it didn't matter. There was no one here to hear you, no one to save you.

Vox opened the limo door and tossed you inside, slamming it shut behind him. You scrambled backwards into the door. You were cornered, trapped between Vox and the door. Vox climbed into the limo and the driver started moving. You pressed yourself further against the door.

"Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" he said, his voice a low growl. You shuddered. "I'm your husband. Don't I deserve a little respect?"

'Husband'. That word made you sick. He always claimed that's what he was. You couldn't remember the ceremony, but the papers were real. There wasn't a doubt in your mind he used hypnosis for most of your relationship. You couldn't remember a single memory where you actually were in love with him, especially how much he claimed you were to be.

You felt a lot of things when you were with him, but it certainly wasn't love. You were scared. Angry. Disgusted. Violated. But you were never in love.

"I believe we've talked about how this'd go if you ever tried it, didn't I?" he continued. He pulled out his phone and showed you a video. It was of you, running through the streets of Pride, looking even more exhausted and miserable than you felt, even under the hood. "I know every street cam in Hell, don't forget that."

"Then why didn't you come for me sooner?" you rasped. Your throat felt raw from running, and your lungs burned. Your arm throbbed from where he grabbed you, and you knew there'd be a bruise later.

"I wanted to see if you'd come crawling back to me on your own," he said, leaning forward to look down on you. He was sitting right next to you, his leg pressed against yours. "And you didn't."

You shrunk back slightly. His gaze was harsh and intimidating. The lights of his eyes flickered across his screen and danced on your skin. You felt his gaze bore into you, like he was trying to figure out what was going on in your mind.

You tried to pull your knees up to your chest, but Vox reached out and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. He brushed his thumb along your lower lip.

"I think you need another lesson on how things work," he growled.

"I don't want--"

"Did I ask what you wanted?"

He pinned you against the limo door and leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. You could feel his breath on your cheek.

"Don't act like you didn't miss this, baby," he purred, his tone changing like a switch had been flipped. "Why'd you leave me? Have I not been spending enough time with you? Am I not making you feel loved enough? I'm the only thing that can protect you down here, but I can't do that if you keep running away."

You squirmed under his grasp. He was holding you so tight that it was hard to breathe. It hurt.

His eye swirled, the familiar hypnotic glow enveloping your vision, and the world around you began to melt away. It was like your consciousness was sinking into a swamp. You were still aware of what was happening, but you couldn't control your own body or voice. Even your emotions beneath his control were dulled down, and it felt like a fog had rolled in over your mind.

You went limp and slumped forward against Vox as he cradled you. His hands traveled down your body and slid up under your shirt, brushing against your stomach. Your skin tingled wherever he touched it.

Just as you heard a dark chuckle from him, just as his hands trailed down to the waistband of your pants...

"We're here," the driver said, interrupting the moment. Vox's hands lingered on your hips for a second longer before pulling away. He moved out of the limo first, then helped you out. You followed him inside without hesitation.

He led you inside the tower, an arm wrapped around your waist. As soon as you stepped inside, he kicked the door closed behind him and picked you up bridal style, carrying you into the bedroom.

You wouldn't be coming out of your hypnotized state any time soon.

[vilsoo]

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𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘; 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘… Inspired by Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights, indulge in sex and horror galore at our premiere Kinktober event, HORRORLAND! Would you dare venture our haunted houses, experience our exhilarating attractions, and uncover the scandalous, deadly mysteries of Horrorland?

OPENED OCTOBER 2023 🕸️

fandoms: jujutsu kaisen, fnaf, re4, spiderman atsv, codmw2.

⚠︎ Beware that event may be too intense for parkland guests and is NOT recommended for minors. Horrorland will explore darker and extreme contents that may be triggering. ⚠︎

ㅤ ↓ VIEW PARKLANDS (KINKTOBER MASTERLIST) ↓

MANEATERVILLE FRIDAYS🩸we feed your fear from the thirst for blood, flesh, and lust that terrorizes the handsome men in town! can you survive the vastly evil sensuality of maneaters, femme fatales, witches, and vampires?

𖤐 OCTOBER 6TH: ❝ SEASON OF THE WITCH ❞ starring GETO SUGURU (jjk)

“love spells aren’t enough to make you mine forever…”

⚠︎ CW: witch disguised as sex therapist, implied homewrecking, slight yandere, witchcraft, seduction, impersonation, bodysnatching, body/soul possession, kidnapping, eventual smut, horror/thriller themes.

𖤐 OCTOBER 13TH: ❝ MY GIRLFRIEND IS A SUCCUBUS! ❞ starring MICHAEL AFTON (fnaf)

“an insatiable lust for flesh, gore, and sex…!”

⚠︎ CW: established relationship, modern au, halloween setting, malewife himbo bf/girlboss demon gf dynamic, succubus!reader, revenge, murder, flesh eating, tentacle bondage, msub!michael.

𖤐 OCTOBER 27TH: ❝ LUST AT FIRST BITE ❞ starring LEON KENNEDY (re4)

“i’ve always wondered what you tasted like, your highness..”

⚠︎ CW: historical royalty au, duchess!reader, coercion so dubcon warning, seduction, hypnosis, eventual smut, bathtub sex, marking, neck biting, blood drinking, mentions of killing, loss of innocence, multiple orgasms.

ㅤ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

S&H CITY SATURDAYS🍷a dark and gloomy city bound to corruption, sin, and immorality known as the devil’s playground. lurking within these streets beholds the prurient reigns of terror that which may also arouse parkland guests…

𖤐 OCTOBER 7TH: ❝ DEATHGASM.COM ❞ starring SIMON “GHOST” RILEY, KÖNIG (codmw2)

“never go too far in the dark web…”

⚠︎ TW: dubcon, kidnapping, sadism, voyeurism, drugging, bondage, impact play, sex toys, livestream sex, manhandling, exhibitionism, forced creampie, double penetration, mind break, mask kink.

𖤐 OCTOBER 14TH: ❝ FREAK NEXT DOOR ❞ starring TOJI FUSHIGURO (jjk)

“i love watching you every night from my window...”

⚠︎ TW: noncon, drugging, stalking/voyeurism, murder threats, perverted neighbor, kinda yandere, forced cuckolding, minor gunplay, bondage, degrading, dark obsession, kidnapping, eventual smut, forced creampie.

𖤐 OCTOBER 28TH: ❝ BREAK MY MIND ❞ starring WILLIAM AFTON (fnaf)

“it is not your flesh that sustains me; it is your fear…”

⚠︎ TW: dubcon, mind control (glitchtrap virus), sadism, kidnapping, murder threats, fear play, manipulation, predator/prey dynamic, implied age gap, degradation, eventual rough smut, mentions of vanny mask.

ㅤ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

HALLOWEEN DAYS ❤️‍🔥 these dark woods satisfies those with teratophilia… deadly creatures preying on their victims, serving their lustful fantasies with wild, animalistic urges! your arousal and fear may provoke them further, so beware…

𖤐 OCTOBER 30TH: ❝ SATAN’S PLAYTHING ❞ starring SUCCUBUS!GOJO SATORU (jjk)

“you look so pretty getting stretched out like that…”

⚠︎ TW: dubcon, female!gojo satoru, tentacle trap in the woods, tentacle bondage, rough tentacle sex, mindbreak, double penetration, subplot from god’s whore, throat fucking, degrading, 1980s setting.

𖤐 OCTOBER 31ST: ❝ BLOODMOON WHORE ❞ starring WEREWOLF!MIGUEL O’HARA (atsv)

“your perfect little body is all mine to breed tonight…”

⚠︎ CW: established relationship, miguel in heat, rough sex, soft sex, marking, biting, possession, breeding, knotting, impregnating, degrading/praising, power struggle, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex.

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © 2023 . please do not steal my kinktober prompts/works/themes! reposting any of my works outside tumblr that minors can access is strictly prohibited. will be cross posted on my ao3 soon.

[jymwahuwu]

ღ GENSHIN IMPACT MASTER LIST

WARNING: DARK CONTENT.

Capitano

some pointless thirst

cw: dub-con, yandere

capitano and hypno

cw: yandere, non-con, hypnosis, forced mating press

arranged marriage + capitano

cw: arranged marriage, homemaker kink

Capitano punishes arrogant reader with spanking!

cw: non-consensual spanking, humiliation, hairbrush spanking, reader has hair

Capitano and a skittish soldier reader: 1, 2

cw: dub-con, forced marriage, yandere, size kink, female reader

Capitano with a breeding kink

cw: dub-con, breeding kink, yandere

reproduced image

cw: yandere, kidnapped, taken away your vision, mentioned blood but nothing to do with sex

capitano + arranged marriage reader is pregnant with baby

cw: yandere, arranged marriage, creampie, pregnancy, fem reader

Perceptions are completely turned around, power is taken away…

You sneak attack those Pyro Archon's subordinates and get punished by Capitano

You're walking around the hut in your skimpy clothes

You are the competition prize

Do u think capitano would be into mating press

Touch Capitano's breasts

capitano having u in mating press

run away

You who have never experienced such a cold climate…

Capitano as a father-to-be being extremely doting

Wriothesley

reader trying to escape by diving and being caught

TW: yandere, abuse of power, non-con, escape failed, non-consensual spanking

handcuffed and spanked by Wriothesley

TW: yandere, forced imprisonment, abuse of power, non-consensual spanking, humiliation

Tighnari

yandere tighnari breeding reader

TW: non-con, yandere, misogyny, forced breeding, using a weird fragrance

old classmate visits reader and encourages them to continue their studies but tighnari hears

TW: non-con, yandere, misogyny, forced breeding, kidnapping, pregnancy, breastfeeding

What would the yans (cyno tihnari) be as dads towards their respective children?

TW: yandere, (implied) forced pregnancy

yandere tighnari and Cyno comfort you

TW: yandere, kidnapping

reader hinting to their children that they weren't happy with the marriage by telling stories but their children told yan!tighnari

TW: yandere, non-con, implied kidnapping, spanking, orgasm control, breeding, knotting

yandere tighnari and reader's (slight yandere) kids are jealous of their new sibling

TW: yandere, (not mentioned here but actually) kidnapping, forced pregnancy, breast milk

trainee forest ranger reader gets punished

TW: non-con, yandere, creepy plant, female reader, spanking without consent

yan! tighnari's and reader's fox daughter wanting to be a dancer in Zubayr Theater with Nilou

TW: yandere, (not mentioned here but actually) kidnapping, overprotective dad tighnari

yandere cyno and tighnari darlings managed to escape them and took the kids with them

TW: yandere, non-con, forced pregnancy, kidnapping, escape, punishment, abuse of power, unhealthy relationship, spanking, aphrodisiac

➥ Cyno and Tighnari making them meet each other again to humiliate them and giving teasing remarks

TW: yandere, punishment, humiliation, dub-con, mentioned escape

Yandere Cyno and Tighnari’s darling decided to try again but this time it was impulsive

TW: yandere, escape, kidnapping, abuse of power

Did yandere tighnari and cyno punish their darlings together?

TW: yandere, punishment

What would happen if yandere tighnari and cyno darlings broke mentally?

TW: yandere, mental breakdown

how would Tighnari and Cyno react to darling being depressed

TW: yandere, kidnapping, mentioned pregnancy, depressed reader

Cyno

yan!cyno blackmailing darling who did something illegal into becoming his housewife

TW: yandere, delusional, kidnapping, forced marriage, mentioned forced pregnancy

What would the yans (cyno tihnari) be as dads towards their respective children?

TW: yandere, (implied) forced pregnancy

cyno finally impregnating reader and cyno's babies are the only one laughing at his joke

TW: yandere, forced pregnancy, forced marriage

yandere Tighnari and Cyno comfort you

TW: yandere, kidnapping

yanderes cyno and tighnari darlings managed to escape them and took the kids with them

TW: yandere, non-con, forced pregnancy, kidnapping, escape, punishment, abuse of power, unhealthy relationship, spanking, aphrodisiac

➥ Cyno and Tighnari making them meet each other again to humiliate them and giving teasing remarks

TW: yandere, punishment, humiliation, dub-con, mentioned escape

Yandere Cyno and Tighnari’s darling decided to try again but this time it was impulsive

TW: yandere, escape, kidnapping, abuse of power

Did yandere tighnari and cyno punish their darlings together?

TW: yandere, punishment

What would happen if yandere tighnari and cyno darlings broke mentally?

TW: yandere, mental breakdown

how would Tighnari and Cyno react to darling being depressed

TW: yandere, kidnapping, mentioned pregnancy, depressed reader

Cyno to Inazuma for TCG match and catch darling

TW: yandere

Alhaitham

yandere alhaitham and kaveh

TW: yandere, non-con, kidnapping, abuse of power

yan!alhaitham and kaveh finally married reader

TW: yandere, forced marriage, (implied) dub-con, kidnapping

Alhaitham doesn't feel insecure in a relationship

TW: yandere

alhaitham, kaveh and you having children but somehow act the opposite of each other

TW: yandere, pregnant, non con but no detailed description

Kaveh

yandere alhaitham and kaveh

TW: yandere, non-con, kidnapping, abuse of power

yan!alhaitham and kaveh finally married reader

TW: yandere, forced marriage, (implied) dub-con, kidnapping

alhaitham, kaveh and you having children but somehow act the opposite of each other

TW: yandere, pregnant, non con but no detailed description

Scaramouche/Wanderer/(The name you gave him:___________)

yandere Scaramouche after kindapping femele darling finding out that girls have periods

TW: yandere, kidnapping

Dottore

Cryo Archon ordered him not to hurt you Dottore asks you to cook

[buggyboba]

✦ October 24th | sex pollen

AN 𓏧

↳ ○ | AN| Hi, hello, we are going to pretend that this isn't three days late. I was FIGHTING for my life with this one, I'm not going to lie. We got there though, I'm not 100% happy with this, but that might be me being real nit picky. The Master is a real ass in this one, it feels a little non-con, since a few things happen, I'll throw it in the TW too, but it's not really, just kinda vibes briefly. I'm only going to do one more, (well two because treat won for trick or treat, so I will be doing a Dhawan!Master x Reader one and a Kate Stewart x Reader one for Halloween, to finish it out. Once again I will keep the rest of the ones I didn't do for Kinktober and maybe release them slowly. This was a big big challenge for me, the whole kinktober thing, and that's on me for thinking a week or so before October that I could certainly do 31 fanfictions, even if they were supposed to be short little smutty drabbles. I have quickly learned, I can't just write short little things...I won't apologize for that though, because that's the roleplayer in me...I was absolutely one of those long-ass novel writing role players. I LIKE WORDS IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU LET ME HAVE MY PROSE AND STUFF! Anyway I once again tried to keep it rather gender-neutral, but it's implied female anatomy, but if you squint maybe not? I tried, I SWEAR I will do Master x male reader sometime. SMUT MDNI

SUMMARY𓏧

↳ ○  how was he supposed to know the flowers on this planet were in bloom this time of year. How was he supposed to know how they would effect your human body? (Spoilers he knew.) 

PAIRING𓏧

↳ ○ Simm!Master x Reader

TW𓏧

↳ ○ mentions of hypnosis, sex pollen, so consensual, but at what cost? sort of vibes. unprotected p in v sex, semi-clothed sex, the master is a right asshole, cumshot. petnames.

WORD COUNT𓏧

↳ ○ 3100

A03 lINK𓏧

↳ ○ x

MASTERLIST LINK𓏧

↳ ○ x

★𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★ 𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★

You were suspicious when he brought you to this planet; he called it Hevides, said it was a nice little flora planet, perfect this time of year. You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets, looking around as he exited the tardis, which aptly was pretending to be a tree. That wasn’t going to cause problems later, you were sure. He explained that there were a few rare plants on Hevides that he wanted to get his hands on; he wouldn’t tell you what for, but you assumed it was for a nefarious plan; it always was. You followed after him; it was a beautiful planet, you would give it that, but you also had a deep, nagging fear that a man-eating plant or something was going to get you, and that would be a terrible fate, just this giant piranha plant from Wish looking thing eating you. You were careful where you stepped; thick vines were littering the forest floor, which definitely didn’t help your imagined scenario of being eaten by a plant while there. 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” you finally asked, but his annoyed scoff told you it was the wrong question to ask. 

“Ye’ of such little faith,” he muttered as he walked past you.

“I mean, do I have to remind you of the fish people?” You started.

“Fish peop—you mean the sea devils? Come now, pet, that’s xenophobic.” He teased you. You stammered and tried to back petal, to which he chuckled and kept walking. “They weren’t fish; they were more like turtles if anything,” he shook his head.

“No, I didn’t mean it in a—I didn’t know they were called that." You stammered out, “And wait, wait, you don’t get to call me that; you are the most—” He cut you off and shook his head.

“Just because I think everyone is beneath me? Because they are, and you silly little apes are no exception, little backward things you are,” he tilted his head watching you. “Now don’t pout, pet; I picked you, didn’t I? As my companion,” he smirked his tone, teasing on the word companion. He disliked the word, but it was the best word to describe you and your relationship. 

"Yeah, moving on; we don’t have time for all that right now; you told me the sea devils were safe, and then they tried to kill us.” You pointed out.

“Miscommunication, and perhaps some old hard feelings.” He waved it off and clapped, making a victorious sound as he spotted what he was looking for. It was a large purple and orange flower; it looked similar to a sunflower if you had to compare it to something; the middle was covered in thick red pollen. He motioned you over, and you shifted, walking a bit closer. You hadn’t noticed how careful he had been stepping around it. When you got close enough, he flicked the back of the flower, making the pollen fly into the air around you. You coughed and sputtered, trying to cover your mouth so more of the bitter pollen didn’t get into your mouth. You looked at him with a look of disbelief as you doubled over coughing harder. 

“Don’t fight it; just breathe normally," he instructed as he observed you. “I just want to see how it affects you,” he said almost nonchalantly. 

“An experiment, right now, with a mystery plant!” You used the sleeve of your jacket trying to breathe. You felt funny, but not in a funny way; more like your body was slowly getting hotter, your blood was on fire, and your skin felt uncomfortable, like your clothing touching it was too much. The feeling was overwhelming quickly. Then the heat pooled, and you felt an ache between your legs. You blinked, trying to determine the feeling and will it away. Your head was hazy. You took a step back, your pupils dilating more; he moved forward, catching you before you almost fell in your attempted retreat. 

His fingers pressed against the side of your neck, on your pulse point, feeling your heart racing, pulsing against his fingers, he hummed. Your hand wrapped around his forearm; you tried to look angry, but your body was on fire, and his cold touch felt good; it would feel better lower. You blinked at your own thought; you felt your mouth water, and he pulled you up carefully. “Talk me through what you are feeling,” he smirked. “I mean, I can see some physical signs, some delightful tells, but I want to know how it feels for you.” He said like he was a scientist, and this was all a very ethical experiment. 

You almost didn’t want to tell him; you felt squirmy. Was that a word you could use? Was that a scientific description? “I’m on fire,” you breathed out. His hand grabbed your throat, letting his thumb brush your jawline before he moved your head side to side to look you over with that cocky grin. You let out a softer sound, “I don’t know, I mean, it’s overwhelming really; I am shaky, and there is this..." You paused, not knowing if you wanted him to know about the ache, but he looked at you with an expectant look. “I just...feel horny,” you muttered out the last word, looking away from him, but he tsked and pushed your jaw with his thumb so you would look back at him. “I just, I need..." You sighed.

“Need what? Go on, tell me... I am all ears.” He grinned at you again; you could tell he had a sort of satisfaction about this reaction. You wanted to stay mad, you really did, but your mind was so hazy now that you couldn’t think about anything but getting rid of this ache. It was nothing like you had ever felt before, and you were worried, scared almost. What was this pollen doing to you? 

“I just want the ache to go away. I just want—” you muttered out, locking eyes with him. His honey-colored eyes took you in. He studied your face, how flushed you looked, and how desperate you sounded. He looked down at you as your hips arched subconsciously against his, and a snider grin took his lips. 

“Such a needy, desperate thing.” He teased, “And why should I help you?” He asked like this wasn’t completely his fault. 

You blinked and looked at him almost in disbelief, “Because you brought me here! Because you made the pollen come off the flower?” You said shortly, his free hand left his pocket and moved to grab right above your hip. “You knew this would happen!” You accused, to which he gave you those puppy dog eyes.

“I didn’t know this exact thing would happen; I mean, I could have hypothesized about the effects on your silly human body, but I wasn’t completely sure, well, until now.” He nodded. “It won’t kill you, so stop worrying so much; just feel a bit.” He grinned, “You are adorable like this...all needy.” He mused a bit; he found this whole thing amusing, and you let out an annoyed strangled sound; you were getting so worked up, and he was just standing there being amused; you could strangle him. 

“Why isn’t it affecting you?” You sighed, trying to focus. You had a lot of willpower, so maybe you could work through this, maybe. 

“Respiratory bypass... held my breath when I flicked it.” He shrugged like it should have been common knowledge to you by now. "Plus, I’m sure it wouldn’t have affected me anyway.” He let your throat go and stepped back. “Come along. There really was something else I needed to get here.” He said and started to walk. You didn’t move; however, he paused when he didn’t hear you following him. He turned to you and raised an eyebrow. “Well?” You stayed still; you didn’t know if you could trust your legs to carry you properly. He rolled his eyes. “Are you playing disobedient now? Should I make you follow me, pet?” He asked, and you knew he was implying he was just hypnotizing you; maybe that would override what you were feeling. 

“No, you don’t have to do that,” you muttered. You took a deep breath and forced your legs to move; even though they shook a bit, your whole body did. You didn’t like this feeling, this sheer feeling of need; the heat was almost unbearable. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you slowly followed him, glaring at the back of his stupid head as he leisurely strolled through the forest looking for what he was really after. You walked for what felt like ever; the effects were getting worse, your body shook more, and you had to stop and lean against a tree to hold yourself up. "Master,” you breathed out. He paused, taking note of your breathy call. He turned around and looked at you, taking in your appearance; it seemed the pollen was in full bloom in you now. He tilted his head, noticing how you were leaning, how you subconsciously clenched your thighs together, and how one hand gripped onto the stomach area of your jacket. You looked weak now, shaky. He inwardly sighed like you were a nuisance before he turned on his heel and walked towards you. 

“You humans are so fragile,” he muttered and moved to pin you against the tree; his hands ran through your hair, forcing you to look at him again. The touch made you breathe out, “You aren’t going to be any good to me if you can’t keep up.” He mock pouted at you, “I suppose I, once again, have to take care of you.” He gave an exaggerated sigh, moving to let his hand trail down your stomach, stopping at the button of your pants. He looked at you for a moment, taking note of how your eyes were hazy, how you had the look of pure need, and how he could smell how aroused you were just by the air around you. That pollen made short work of you, and it amused him more than it should have. It melted your reservations, so much so that you were shifting a bit, trying to get him to undo your pants; it was like your mind couldn’t think of anything but getting off. “Oh and out here in the open, the great outdoors, how scandalous of you, bunny.” He mocked a bit. You felt your cheeks heat up more. He was right; you would have never done anything like this in public, not that this was public; this was in the middle of an alien forest; you hadn’t seen signs of civilization or anything of that sort, though that didn’t mean there wasn’t. 

You choked out a whine; you didn’t want to wait anymore, yet here he was being his normal mocking, snarky self, taking his time because he wanted to annoy you; that’s what it had to be. He finally pulled the button free, and with a delicate movement, he unzipped your pants, letting them fall past your knees and pool around your feet, but he didn’t touch you yet; he let his hand slip under your jacket, pushing it and your shirt up as he stepped closer, his mouth pressing against your neck, his hands groped at your chest, kneading the flesh there, listening to the lovely needy sounds that were spilling from your parted lips. He pressed against you more, keeping you snuggly pressed against the tree, the bark scraping your back, but the pain from it didn’t translate; it almost felt good. Your hand gripped and your nails scraped at the bark; your other hand grabbed his arm, gripping the fabric of his black jacket. Each kiss and nip caused you to whine and groan out; it felt so good; everything felt so enhanced; someone could be making a killing using this as one of those ‘enhancer’ pills, a funny thought that was quickly pushed from your head as his hips rolled against yours, grinding against you. He let a soft growl escape his throat as he sucked a dark mark into your skin before his hands slid down and grabbed your legs, easing them up to sit against his hips. You wrapped your legs around him, your body so hot, your blood felt like it was boiling, you whined out, you felt so damn needy, you didn’t like it, your senses were on overdrive. 

"Oh, what fun little sounds you make,” he muttered against your throat and pressed an open-mouth kiss against it before letting his teeth graze again. All these little touches and nips were driving you mad.

“Master! Please!” You choked out, pressing against him more, well, as much as you could in this position. As you pathetically rutted against him, he arched his hips up some, and you could feel his arousal, the bulge in his pants growing. He moved one hand down to undo his belt, and you gave a soft, needy sound. 

“Down pet,” he smirked, kissing your neck again as he pulled his belt some and then undid his pants. “So needy, I bet you are dying to get fucked.” He growled in your ear. The growl sent a rippling shiver down your spine; you had never needed something more than in this moment. “I’ll admit, this was a very insightful experiment.” He said pulling himself free from his boxers, slowly stroking his cock, teasing against you with the tip, “like a dam broke.” He teased you; you hated that, but you couldn’t help it; the pollen thrummed through you still. You were about to say something, anything to get him to just help you, but he pressed the tip into your dripping entrance. Which caused a breathy sound to escape. He slowly sank in, pulling you against him, One hand moved to cup against your ass, and the other was held against the tree by the side of your head as he started a deliciously slow rhythm. It was clear he was milking this to see you so desperate that you would do anything. It made perfect sense to you; with who he was, you knew he was going to make you beg, even though this was all his fault. Acting like it was an inconvenience, and he was so benevolent to help you, to fuck you. 

Your hips rolled against him, trying to get him to stop being so teasingly; his mouth found your neck again, sucking against your pulse point; he could feel how hard your heart was pounding, and you panted out. A deep thrust pulled a long groan from your throat, which made him smirk against your neck. You clenched against him, a diabolically delightful feeling for both of you, which made him grunt against you, biting your neck. He got the message and moved, pressing you harder against the tree, picking up his pace to something rougher, something faster; he wasn’t being playfully teasing anymore. 

“I don’t think you really mean it; maybe I should stop and let you think about it some.” He pulled his hips back, but you tightened your grip around his waist; there was no way in hell you were going to let him stop. 

Your nails scratched into the treebark behind you, the hand against his arm tightened more, your breath ragged as you groaned and moaned out, the feeling intense, the pleasure making you dizzy thanks to your already hazy mind from the pollen, you felt your muscles tighten and a pooling in your stomach, from your tensing and how your core pulsated around him, he knew you were close. He slowed suddenly, causing you to make a pathetic sound. “You can cum when I say you can,” he nipped below your ear. You couldn’t even think; your mind was swirling. How could he be so cruel and control this right now when your body needed this? “Oh, you want it so badly; listen to you, whining,” he smirked and made a mock whine in your ear. “You know what to ask for.” He breathed out and rolled his hips slowly, pulling almost all the way out, before slowly pushing back in.

You weren’t even sure you could form proper words right now, and he wanted you to feed into his control; he wanted you to beg for him to finish you. There was another low whined sound that he pulled from your throat. You thought about not playing his game, but he would stop, and you certainly didn’t want that. “Please, please let me cum, please, I need to,” you begged out, in the best tone you could manage, even arching and writhing against him, making sure to lock eyes with him. He studied you and shook his head with that cocky grin.

“Master please!” You slid your hand up from his arm to the back of his neck, keeping him close. “I’m sorry! Please! Please, I need you. I’m sorry, please! Please let me cum.” You breathed out in an almost panicked breath; this seemed to please him because he returned to the rhythm that he had been at before. “Please!” You doubled down. The stream of begging words and praises fell from your lips as you clung to him. You choked out a loud screamed Master, as you felt your body snap, the pleasure rushing your blood. The feeling of need was there but not as strong as it had been. He hissed out as your walls clenched against him and flexed milking against his cock. There was a moment he considered marking you as his in the most primal way, but he reluctantly pulled from your divine heat, rutting against you, holding the base of his cock as he groaned out, painting your stomach with strands of hot cum; it splattered against your bare stomach and the bottom of your jacket. There would be time for anger about that later. After a few long silent moments, he let you down to lean against the tree he had just fucked you against as he fixed his pants and redid his belt, making a face as he looked over your appearance. “Messy,” he said, like he once again didn’t cause the problem. 

You took deep breaths trying to come down, you slowly fixed yourself, and your gaze flinted up to him. You could feel the prickle of the pollen still, but it certainly wasn’t as bad as it had been. “Do you think you can focus and keep up now? Tell you what, darling, we finish this up, and maybe if you are good and keep up, we can have some more fun when we get back to the tardis; dunno how long the pollen is going to control your silly little human mind, but I would love to study the effects more closely.” He smirked, and you nodded weakly, looking down at the mess he had made of you. It was going to be a long adventure, that was for sure. 

★𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★ 𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★

Taglist𓏧 ↳ ○ @bees-fart-too , @bakusquadobsessed , @anastasa-mslfedit , @cabinedepapel , @asteria237 , @suckerforcate , @bingewatchingmylifegoby , @toastvogel , @starbucks-06 If you want to be added to the rest here is the l x

[purplekissinger]

~ Masterlist ~

here's my AO3 (this is where i post ✨serious✨ stuff)

A picture above is me offering you this questionable texts. Yandere themes (a lot), but little to no nsfw (i just don't do that). Feel free to send me a request ^^

I DO NOT support yanderes irl. It's not love, it's a disease. Please, read tws.

I use pics to illustrate my drabbles, and although I usually make sure that it's not someones art, this can happen. If see your art on the cover of one of my texts and want it taken down, please contact w me, I'll do that.

Tom Riddle

x deardiarydeardiarydeardiary

Y/N’s been acting strange lately. She may contain the urge to run away, but Tom holds her down with soggy clothes and breezeblocks.

x The cat that looked at a King

The first magical war. Animagus Y/N spies on the Dark Lord. When she is caught, Voldemort decides against killing her.

x Ten points to Hufflepuff

“Now it’s all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain’t ever to love anybody but me, and you ain’t ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?”

x Five times when you were stronger than Tom Riddle and one time when he was stronger than you

“Maybe you are taking in turns to look, and keep missing each other,” said Hermione, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.

x That day no farther did we read therein

wordcount: 300. warnings: none. Tom: will definitely corner you as soon as the lesson is over.

x amalgam

The night Tom told you about Horcruxes. Soulmates au.

x The roads we take, the collars we choose

Y/N is a werewolf in the servitude of the Dark Lord.

x I am the pretty thing that lives in the castle

Y/N became a ghost instead of Myrtle. She couldn’t care less about Tom. He wishes he could say the same.

x The girl with the snake tattoo

‘Give me your hand, Y/N,’ he will say softly.

x hypnosis

'Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.'

x The tower, the princess, the snake

Soulmates AU.

x Death and the Maiden

Y/N revives the Dark Lord. “why, I am growing quite sentimental… But look, Harry! My true family returns…”

x Hansel and Gretel

Siblings au. Platonic.

x Thirst

Y/N Malfoy is Draco's older sister, this takes place in 1998, nsfw implied but no details.

Bunny Corcoran

You’re the entire circus

Bunny Corcoran being sliiiiiiightly obsessed with you 

Henry Winter

Seven deadly seeds

Henry Winter being heavily obsessed with you 

Yandere OC

x Hungry heart

Your yandere is the ‘hide the zombie bite’ type of guy. 

x Yandere zombie x reader headcanons

[missr3n3]

Augusnippets Day 1

gaslighting/hypnosis/brainwashing stalked

fandom: cabin tales TW: stalking, implied abuse, implied kidnapping, implied lady whump word count: 170 @augusnippets

A voice clawed at the back of Peter's mind, screaming that his plans were wrong, evil. He deftly ignored the unwanted nagging as his car slowed across the street from Sarah's house. He had no other choice. Then again, nothing he’d done yet was illegal. He merely followed Sarah along her commute… to make sure she arrived home safely. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he allowed something to happen to her?

It didn’t matter if she asked for a break from the relationship last week.

Peter breathed a sigh, somewhere between relief and resolve. Yes, all he wanted was to take care of Sarah, make sure she was safe from a wretched world all too familiar to Peter. It was simple pragmatism. Staying by Peter's side, never leaving him, was the simplest way to ensure her security and happiness.

If only he could convince her of his perspective. If only he hadn't needed to bring a pocketknife and handcuffs.

She couldn’t leave him. He wouldn’t let her.

[onyx-archer]

Surge, Trauma, and Toxicity in Shipping Culture

I didn’t think I’d ever have to make a post to justify my liking of a ship for the Sonic fanbase, but fine, I guess I’ll do that. This has been a thing that has been nagging at me for a while because of the toxicity directed at the ship in question, and accusations that it’s a pr0ship thing, when it isn’t. I’m writing this here because it’s easier to break it down without having to make dozens of tweets. It’s a long ass post, so it’ll be under the cut. TW for a lot of mentions of abuse, including a personal anecdote from myself. (PS: because I’m throwing this in the Surgamy tag, I’m going to tell you right now that I harbor no ill will towards you if you like Surgamy, and have no strong feelings about the ship itself. Like what you like. The point of this post is more to express frustration with the flimsy logic I see being used to justify treating fans of Sonurge like shit, and to explore why I personally like a ship.)

The long and short of it: I like the pairing of Sonic x Surge. Surge, for those unaware, is a tenrec character introduced in the Sonic IDW comics, and, in universe, was “created” to kill Sonic, alongside a Tails-like character named Kitsunami (Kit, for short, as I’ll be referring to him this way in the rest of the post). The reason I say “created” is due to the fact that she was a normal tenrec that got recruited or abducted (we still don’t know) by Dr. Starline, a platypus who is a huge Eggman fanboy and has a superiority complex. Surge and Kit were then bio-mechanically enhanced ala the Androids (namely 17 and 18) from Dragon Ball, which was done along side over several hundred hypnosis sessions (made more effective due to having the code that serves as the basis of Belle the Tinkerer’s cognitive abilities) to hate Sonic and his friends, and want to kill them. At least, that’s how it is for Surge. Kit was basically conditioned to be codependent on Surge, and to do whatever she wanted.

In the process, Starline erased everything that Surge and Kit were before they became Surge and Kit, which we can safely assume aren’t their original names. All that was left is the implanted personalities Starline grafted onto them via mental conditioning and the like.

From there, Surge and Kit underwent countless training programs to be able to fight at Sonic’s level, but naturally, it doesn’t go well a lot of the time. Thankfully, the two are nigh on unkillable due to part of the process that enhanced them (based on the Metal Virus from an earlier plot line). Unfortunately though, the training is still grueling and painful, and often lead to them breaking down emotionally and mentally under the strain, which Starline then blotted out by using his hypnosis on them. He himself says in an a video file that he made to document the process of making his Sonic killers that the hypnosis can only bury the memories, but has lasting side effects. Or in other words, it traumatized both of them, and left them with no memory as to how they were traumatized to begin with.

Why am I bringing all of this up in a post that is about a ship I like?

Well, because a lot of people like to point at Surge’s trauma as a reason why Sonurge can’t work. They say that Sonic himself is the root of the trauma, primarily because Surge herself says that if Sonic and Eggman’s constant fighting had eventually stopped (either by Sonic putting Eggman down permanently, Sonic being defeated, or either quitting the fight), she wouldn’t have had to endure the pain of losing who she was and wouldn’t have become Surge at all.

The problem with this argument is, fundamentally, that Surge’s trauma isn’t Sonic’s fault. It’s Starline’s.

To imply Sonic is the problem is fundamentally blaming the soil the seed was planted in for the root to form in the first place, which is passing the buck in a way that isn’t healthy. Sonic and Eggman may have been the soil Surge’s trauma grew out of, but Starline was the seed, and serves as the root cause of it. Starline is the one who ultimately put Surge through all of the trauma in the first place.

Saying that Starline’s motivation for creating and ultimately traumatizing Surge and Kit is the actual root of the problem is effectively saying “your abusive spouse hit you because they got into an argument with their coworker, so blame the coworker! You wouldn’t have been hit if that didn’t happen!” Saying that his desire to beat Sonic and prove himself superior to Eggman is just a convenient way to look past the actual abuse, and the actual source of Surge and Kit’s trauma. It’s placing the blame at the wrong person’s feet as a way to cope, and it’s not healthy in the slightest.

Yet Surge does this anyway. But why? Because she can’t readily lash out at Starline beyond a certain point. Starline (supposedly, as I remain unconvinced despite Ian Flynn saying otherwise) dies. When your abuser dies before you can properly process your trauma and the feelings that come from it, it becomes easier to blame others for your plight, rather than begin properly healing. Doubly so when the abuse just abruptly stops after being intense, and you have nowhere to direct those negative feelings. Those negative feelings feel normal, and now that they have nowhere to go, you feel less normal, and that leads to misdirection of those feelings to cope.

Surge even takes it one step further with the Dynamo Cage, a not so subtle drug abuse allegory. She craves the power and sense of control it gives her. But you want to know the one side effect that points to Starline being the problem, and not Sonic? She has audiovisual hallucinations of Starline taunting her. Calling her weak without the power afforded to her by the Dynamo Cage. That she’s nothing without it or him.

To open up about myself for a minute to hammer this next point home: about 2 years ago at the time of writing, I was savagely beaten by some drug addled dude. It left me with a busted up face (including a broken nose I reset myself in the height of the adrenaline from the fight or flight response)... and a whole lot of mental scars. I had reoccurring nightmares about him, and I still sometimes have a hard time leaving my house because I don’t want to bump into him out of fear he might try to kill me. It’s something that only recently started to calm down, but it’s still something I grapple with. Didn’t help that I had to deal with domestic abuse growing up that also left some mental scars, but those had mostly healed before that whole ordeal tore them open again.

I bring up my personal experience for a simple reason: Starline appearing as a hallucination that only Kit is able to pull Surge out of? That is the big, blinking red neon sign pointing to Dr. Starline being the source of Surge’s pain, and not Sonic. Why? Because if Sonic truly was the source of her trauma, why didn’t she see a mocking image of Sonic taunting her weakness? Why didn’t she hallucinate him? 

The answer is simple: Sonic is not the source of her trauma. Starline is.

As an abuse survivor, it seriously twists me up inside seeing people online twist Surge’s trauma as somehow being Sonic’s fault. The thought is absurd to me, as I can see how Surge is acting as purely an unhealthy trauma response, fueled by the anger and sadness that her life had become filled with as a result of Starline.

To me, when she says that she can’t be free as long as Sonic is still alive, it’s her failing to acknowledge the actual source of her pain. She’s emotional, angry, and is freshly aware of all of the bad stuff that has happened to her. The wound is still bleeding, and the fact that Sonic has, in her eyes, teamed up with Eggman to stop her only rubs salt in the wound. She was conditioned to kill him, and that’s all she has left now that the person who made her that way is dead, so she’s lashing out in the only way she feels she can in her hyper emotional state.

To me, it reads as a cry for help that she genuinely doesn’t believe will ever be heard. And that stings, because I’ve been there.

It’s easier for her to blame Sonic, and to chase the rush of power that the Dynamo Cage gives her, because she has control of that. But in the end, both her and Kit failed to reconcile that with Starline gone, they are free. And probably won’t for a while. To them, as survivors of a shared trauma, the world is their enemy, and they’ll lash out at anyone and everyone they see as liars. See also how Kit reacts when learning that, as far as Sonic knows, Surge is gone. He quickly decides that he needs to help Sonic, because he wants to feel needed. When Surge turns out not to be dead, he calls Sonic a liar, when Sonic had no idea Surge wasn’t dead.

These are two people who have been so deep in the trauma that they stopped questioning whether or not it’s normal, and instead choose to react negatively to people who could help because it’s not what they want.

Eventually though, I think both will come to understand that Sonic and his friends have no intention of hurting them, or forcing them into anything, because that’s not how those characters are. I would be deeply disappointed in Ian Flynn and Evan Stanley if they chose to not give Surge and Kit the treatment they deserve, and would condemn them both publicly, and even to their faces if the chances arose. My personal traumatic experience fuels this view of the characters, so you can say I’m projecting a bit, but that’s besides the point.

The other thing that people like to do is say that their relationship would be toxic or abusive... which only makes me angry. Primarily because, as I’ve established, I view Surge as a victim of abuse, and to suggest that victims of abuse continue the cycle of abuse is, in my honest opinion, cruel and full of shit. You’re implying a lot about how you view victims of abuse by suggesting this. Even if you stretch it and say “well, she was abused by someone who made her hate Sonic, so naturally a relationship with Sonic wouldn’t be healthy” is writing off Surge as a lost cause trauma wise, and is again a misguided view of how trauma works.

Then there’s the people who say all of this while shipping Surge with Amy or Kit with Tails... only for those dynamics to be functionally very similar. Kit is made to effectively kill Tails. Surge and Kit actually tried to kill Amy (along with Jewel, Tangle, and Belle) via a forest fire. Surge said she wants to burn the world down and basically kill Sonic’s friends... yet they somehow think that Sonic is the actual problem here, and that if Surge is a lesbian or Kit is gay that it suddenly changes the rules.

This fundamentally leads into a broader discussion about how the LGBTQIA+ community has an unhealthy view of ships of that variety, and how even straight people that like ships like those have an unhealthy view of the subject too. To keep it short though: if you think that Surge trying to kill Amy under Starline’s orders is somehow not similar to Starline brainwashing Surge to hate and want to kill Sonic because Surgamy is a queer ship, then you’re part of the problem with queer shipping discourse to begin with. Instead, you’d rather call people who like Sonurge “pr0ship” and plug your ears while being toxic to those that do like it. It’s pathetic, but I’ll spare the details about how I feel about queer romance in fiction and fandom’s response to it later in a more dedicated post once I know what I want to say on the subject.

I’ve yet to see someone who ships Sonurge in a pr0ship way. Most people who ship it enjoy it because of the dynamic that comes from them being enemies to lovers, or even how the ship allows them to explore Surge’s trauma through her relationship with Sonic, and just like to see Sonic be the kind, supportive character he’s always been deep down.

To call it pr0ship is to imply that you think people who ship it are doing so because they like toxic relationships or whatever, and I’ve yet to see any evidence that people ship Sonurge do that. Instead, I often see it decried because it doesn’t allow for queer Surge or Sonic ships (Surgamy and Sonadow come to mind), or it otherwise gets in the way of more popular het Sonic ships like SonAmy. It just comes off as a poor excuse to justify disliking a ship, or just disliking people having a different opinion than you.

If that’s you: grow the fuck up, and let people who want these two specific spiny rats kiss in peace.