#tw: sa implied

[ananke-xiii]

Form and Void... Hands and Hearts.

Intro + the post before this you kinda need to read them all or it won't make a lot of sense lol

Dean and Crowley's relationship is not fun.

Full disclosure here: I have no problems in terms of shipping and having fun with the characters outside of what's canon but I personally don't see Dean's canon relationship with Crowley as "fun", it's not something that I particularly enjoy watching. Like, the actors are great etc. but the actual story makes me feel... uncomfortable. I actually find it sad that Dean's still attached to Crowley because, as much as I like him as a character, the King of Hell acts like a total predator towards Dean and this episode highlights this side of their relationship in uncomfortable ways. So be warned that things get a little ugly from here.

Let's see how food is treated in the episode: Crowley is presented as "Father Crowley" while he puts sugar in his tea and calls Dean "a rather scrumptious altar boy". The image I get from this is both that of the sugar daddy and, because of the religious references, of the scandals surrounding the Vatican and its priests (I'm trying to be as sensitive as I can but the show is really not and Crowley literally makes a reference to these events later on in the episode).

Father Crowley is a piece of shit.

He will later pull up in a van and kidnap young Amara with this line:

My, haven't you grown into a sweet young thing? Want some candy, little girl?

If we consider that Amara and Dean are connected (by the mark that's above Amara's heart and that was on Dean's right arm) Dean and Crowley's past relationship doesn't look so much fun anymore (well, it never was fun to begin with as I've written although the show did its best to make it look like it was fun with the karaoke, the cowboy hats and the sex. I mean, on paper it does look like fun if we can just forget that Dean was very much Crowley's guinea pig).

In case you were wondering, Dean and Amara are bound guys.

Crowley here is the preacher/hunter of "The Night of the Hunter". He dresses like a priest but he's hunting for demons (yeah, I know, it's a clear reference to "The Exorcist" too). He happens to find "the child that eats the souls" and proceed to kidnap her. I mean, brrrrr.

And how does Dean feel about it? He still loves him! Poor, poor, poor Dean.

While Sam went for the heart of Poor Guy with the electrocution device, the angels went for Cas' heart (and other parts too) with the angel blades, Dean goes for Crowley's heart with Ruby's knife. Unlike Sam and the angels, he doesn't finish what he had set up to do.

Dean's knife is pointed at Crowley's heart but I'm bad at taking screenshots so this is what you get.

Instead, he pins Crowley's to the wall by stabbing his left hand (the hand of love and receiving) with an angel blade. Visually, it's quite similar (not the same, similar) thing that happened to Cas at the end of S10. It couldn't be more sexual (angels blades are the dicks, also interesting choice of weapon to stab Crowley: Cas' ghost in their relationship is ever present) and more problematic: in a heartbeat Dean goes from prey to predator.

They re-used this very explicit image in S12.

Just like Dean is bound to Amara, he's still bound to his former abuser Crowley. And, I mean, from a storytelling pov it tracks because Amara is very much Crowley's and Dean's baby ("You're very maternal, Dean"). Yeah, I can hear your "ewwww" from here knowing where they went with Dean and Amara but I didn't write the show, they did and I'm picking up the things they've put down. Anyway, Dean and Crowley's relationship will be over only once Dean's not bound to Amara anymore. Or, at least, it should be but like any love triangle writers liked to milk it unti it was dry, i.e. one of the three permadied. This is why, I think, we had the echoes of the same trite trope in S12 too and if you enjoyed it good for you. For me it was torture.

Demons would be the perfect angels. Sam too.

A SPN-related theory of mine is that demons would make perfect angels. Both demons and angels are cursed with the "I get what I want" mentality. Abbadon said it, Crowley says it again in this episode. It's a very angel-like mentality, however demons are unironically more likely to put in the effort, follow the guidelines, work behind the curtains. They would be perfect angels for Chuck.

Ironically this time, angels and demons have hardly ever gotten what they wanted (hello Castiel!). They all tend to work in a certain direction only for the result to backfire in the end or leave them dead. Which reminds of a certain character named Sam Winchester.

"Form and Void" is an episode that explicity parallels Sam to the angels and to Crowley. Sam and Crowley's parallels are my everything. Up until s8 they were quite obvious while after that they're in the story's backbone rather than clearly on screen. If you care, this is one of the reasons why Crowley and Lucifer's power struggle could've been way more interesting if they had thrown in Sam in some capacity instead of doing whatever they did with Sam in s12. *breathes and calms down*

The End (of this rambling post).

"Form and Void" foreshadows how S11 would end: dark and light becoming One. It's something that US tv shows (tended to) do a lot when they deal with Christian themes: when they're going a little over the edge and very close to blasphemy they pull a "Eastern Mysticism" card to signal that they were just kidding! In SPN they did the same thing to Jack in s15. When they deal with God they use buddhist concepts as a cop-out to avoid doing things that may upset Christian believers (and no, canon bisexual God is less of a threat than canon God's older sister who's more powerful, female-presenting and holding a huuuuge grudge or than having a world with no God, no Hell and no Heaven).

Hands and hearts are a huge motifs and they signal what the characters will be doing and/or their true intention/identity. In order to see this, though, one must pay appention to the scene shown at the very beginning of the episode, a scene from the movie "The Night of the Hunter". This specific scene tells us that what we see is the opposite of what the writers mean and that the core theme of S11 is not so much God vs The Darkness but rather love. This love, however, lies in cages protected by keys and it's secret and forbidden but, as that scene tells us, love's a-winnin'. To save the day and let Love still win we've got a giant plot-twist in the form of maternal love and the resurrection of Mary Winchester. The heart's needs are met, its wants are still unknown. You can't always get what you want... SPN really did believe that.

[cupcakeslushie]

Recovering your autonomy vs Completely cutting yourself off from your support system. FIGHT!

This happens sometime after the ongoing Kendra reunion comic, but not far enough along that the brothers have figured out how to navigate certain landmines.

Donnie is still re-adjusting to communicating his needs in a confident manner. Sometimes he gets a little too worked up, and lets the panic take over. He regrets the yelling later.

…The next morning

[ciderjacks]

Party infighting

[fic-over-cannon]

Jason Todd will cockblock himself if he thinks you can’t give 100% informed consent.

A few too many drinks at a gala and you’re drunkenly trying to make out with your gorgeous boyfriend. He’ll stop kissing you once he can taste the champagne on your lips, notices the glassy sheen to your eyes. Jason folds your roaming hands back into your lap and makes you promise to be good. He’ll take you home early and get some water into you before tucking you into bed. He’ll go so far as to sleep on the couch, door open to the bedroom so he can hear if you need him.

Jason remembers what Catherine looked like, coming off of a high and not remembering what day it was. The fear in her eyes and the shake in her voice when she asked if anyone else had been in the apartment.

Jason remembers the early days after the pit. When he’d wake up after blacking out in rage and not remember what his body had done. Seeing the blood on his skin and not knowing where it came from.

Jason never wants you to wake up with that same fearful not knowing. So he’ll sleep on the couch and make sure you’re safe. In the morning he’ll cook you breakfast and kiss you silly. But you’re going to have a talk, the two of you, once you’re sober enough to have a real conversation. Establish boundaries and plan consent for if you do want to fool around if one of you is impaired, or how you want to handle it if you don’t. But it’s not tomorrow yet, and Jason’s tired. He can sleep soundly though, knowing that nothing’s going to happen to you.

[ahotpeaceofshit]

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally getting help (prt 4)

Masterpost

The bats worked through the night, coordinating and researching everything that needed to be done. Distortion showed up on the camera which they assumed was Vlad trying to get in but he didn’t manage it. After he finished trying from multiple angels including somehow from directly above (well Zatana did say invisibility, intangibility, and flight were the minimal powers they should expect from creatures of the infinite realms.) He turned human again and spent a long time banging on their front door.

He tried to call the cops but commissioner Gordon called Bruce directly to get the full story then told Vlad it could be dealt with in the morning. Zatana was also coordinating people heading to Amity, a full on raid of the GIW, and the Fentons.

Batman and Superman were collecting all the information that the raid team was sending out and workshopping public statements they could sent out to the public and the government about the unacceptable things they had found and the steps the JL was taking to fix it. The government was not going to be happy they knew, with the JL ‘over-stepping’ into their business and actually getting the word out about the atrocities a branch of their government and their pet scientists had been planning. The JL needed to get out ahead of it before the narrative could be twisted against them.

It was first thing in the morning when they did a live broadcast from the watchtower with Batman, Superman, and Zatana telling the world about the parallel world existing harmlessly along side their own, and the way the government tried to exploit it. The atrocities committed under the name of the Anti-Ecto acts with the ignorance of the public as a cover.

It was at the same time that Constantine, Dick, and Cas were raiding the Fenton’s home. Of course they were armed, but so were the bats, and they were used to fighting people who were armed. It wasn’t a particularly hard fight.

A redhead was sitting wide eyed at the kitchen table. “Can’t we just have one normal day!” She suddenly snapped but she was glaring at her parents, standing up and slamming her hands on the table.  “First you send Danny away with Vlad even though you KNOW they hate each other and it’s a school day and now this! What did you do to bring the heroes down on us!?”

“I don’t know Jazzybear!” Jack half whined as he was forced into power supressing cuffs to neutralize his minor super strength and sat down in the living room.

“I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding, don’t worry sweetie,” Maddie added, both of them were dressed in jump suits which did not help their supervillain vibes.

“it’s not a mistake mate, you’ve been messing with shit you really shouldn’t. And that portal in your basement is a fucking beacon welcoming a war. You’ve gone unchecked for too god damn long, we’re taking over things now.” Constantine told them before stalking down into the basement with Tim on his heels, Batman would be joining them as soon as they were done their press conference.

Cas stayed to watch the parents and Dick approached Jazz gently. “Hey can I talk to you in private please? It’s about your brother,” He said gently and she stiffened immediately. Looking at him in a way that made him feel like she could see straight into his soul and froze him to the spot. After a moment though she just sighed and nodded, beckoning to him to follow her upstairs, to a room that was probably Danny’s not her own. She sat on his bed and grabbed a bear that had been sitting on the edge, waving for him to sit at the desk.

“So, what do you know?” She asked with a sigh.

“Well, last night Vlad took Danny to a Wayne Gala, one of Bruce’s daughter Cas is really good with body language and clocked that something was wrong so she and one of the other kids got him away from Vlad and out of the party. I guess he really needed some adult support because he broke down and told them a lot, about the Phantom thing, the ghosts and… something you’re not going to like. But first I want you to know he’s safe, Bruce Wayne is a licensed foster parent and he’s taking good care of Danny, you can come live with them too if you want.

“We’re going to deal with the ghosts and the GIW and everything else now, I can’t promise by the end of this you won’t need somewhere else to go. I have a feeling if Batman and the Martian family have anything to say about this your parents will end up in prison for their unethical experiments.”

“As long as Danny is okay,” Jazz said firmly. “I was only staying to take care of him anyway, just get me emancipated and a scholarship for Gotham U so I can study while still being close to him I’ll be fine. I’m almost 18 as it is.”

Dick nodded, she was a smart and driven girl, she knew what she wanted, he could respect that. “Now, the thing you won’t like…” he trailed off and took a deep breath. “Danny is pregnant.”

“What!?“ Jazz blanched, gaping at him for a long minute. “That can’t be right! I mean I knew he was trans but he’s usually only interested in girls, how would he even-“ She cut off her eyes widening. “It was Vlad wasn’t it?” She gritted out with an expression the promised excruciating violence.

“Yes,” Dick said shifting awkwardly in his chair.

“Right.” Jazz said and got up, coldly calm. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” She grabbed a baseball bat from next to Danny’s bed that seemed to be glowing slightly then marched to the other side of the room, opened a cabinet and pulled out two odd looking guns. Before Dick could say much of anything she had vaulted out of the window and taking off down the street.

“Oh dear,” Dick muttered faintly before heading back downstairs. “Hey Cas can we turn on the news, some sort of local station?” He asked. Cas nodded and searched around for the remote, turning it on to find the channel was already on local news.

Vlad was already on there, talking about how it was awful Bruce Wayne had Kidnapped a local child Danial Fenton, and he could not be allowed to get away with this just because he was rich! But that didn’t last long, they watched for a few minutes before a blur of red hair and blue rushed past the camera.

“YOU TOUCHED MY BROTHER YOU CREEP!” Jazz said as she came out swinging and she must have quite the arm because her first swing sent him nearly flying off the stage. He scrambled to get up as she lunged at him again.

“Now Jasmine you’ve clearly been misinformed, I didn’t do anything-“ His muffled voice was cut off as she swung the bat again and he yelped as she hit him in the stomach.

“YOU GOT HIM PREGNANT! YOU DID THIS! YOU SHOULD BEHIND BARS NOT BEHIND A PODIUM YOU FROOTLOOP!” She shrieked as she swung again and this time he managed to dodge. The cameras following them as Jazz chased him down the street, the sound of his supplications and her shrieking fading out as they became more and more distant.

It took a frantic moment for the camera angle to switch to something else, maybe a drone, which was able to follow them down the street.

“You Don’t UNDERSTAND! I didn’t want to hurt him! I just wanted a perfect son! If he had just agreed to be my son none of this would have happened! When I knew it failed I told him to let them die!” Vlad yelled at her, though that did NOT seem to comfort Jazz at all. She had devolved into shrieking book titles like curses as she chased him with the bat and shot at him with the guns though her aim didn’t seem very good.

Well they had him admitting to it on camera now. As he watched a new actor joined the fray, a girl in a red jumpsuit holding a blaster.

“You did what to Danny!?” She demanded as she pointed the blaster at Vlad.

“Oh cheespuffs!” Vlad breathed, his eyes widening as Jazz trailed off letting who must be Red Huntress take over the chase as Vlad shouted about how he had made her! He had given her her weapons she couldn’t use them against him! Which did not seem to be stopping her.

The camera fuzzed out for just a second and then Valery was chasing a ghost with red eyes and a white outfit. Cas was laughing silently at the show and both of the Fenton parents seemed to be in shock. A few minutes later Jazz walked back in through the front door looking tired.

“Turn that off please,” she sighed as she put the bat down.

“Of course,” Cas agreed and picked up the remote again, turning off the tv. 

“Vlad didn’t actually do that, did he Jazzy?” Jack asked softly, he sounded so hurt, as if he had any fucking right!

Jazz looked at him blankly. “How many times have we tried to warn you about him? How many times has Danny told you he didn’t feel safe with Vlad? But as usual you couldn’t see past your own desires. I’m going to go see if the trenchcoat guy needs any help getting into your files,” She sighed before vanishing downstairs. 

Dick glanced at Cas, and then followed them, she would have no trouble watching the Fentons and staying quiet whereas Dick felt like he was about to explode. Batman joined them before long and between the three of them they shut the bulkheads on the portal and locked them, secured dangerous chemicals and devices, and downloaded everything they could. There were plenty of prototypes and blueprints, and stuff that could generously be called research.

It was obvious these people were geniuses but it was even more obvious that at some point they had become careless and obsessive. Half of the writing on the blueprints wasn’t legible, dangerous chemicals were not in proper containment, and the weapons were not locked up. Looking at all of this it wasn’t surprising that two of the people they had been involving in their research suffered exposure, it was a surprise more hadn’t. It was easy to tell when Bruce came down he was horrified, it was in the way he froze when he saw the lab, as if his brain was struggling to process just how irresponsible the Fenton parents had been.

“You must be Jazz, it’s nice to meet you. Danny speaks highly of you,” He finally rebooted to say when she waved at him. 

“I love my little brother, I always did the best I could to keep him safe from… all this,” Jazz said gesturing at the lab with a sigh. “I wish it had done any good.”

“You did plenty of good,” Dick put in. “Trust me, to a kid having someone care about them can make all the difference. 

“All those nights I patched him up after he came back from fighting ghosts. He healed fast but still. I can’t believe… he’s already been through so much and we knew Vlad was up to something! Ellie said she was our cousin but she looked just like him, I should have kept a closer eye on-” She cut off and shook her head. “He’s a good kid, of course if he couldn’t give the babies up, even if it would be better for them if he did. I hope he knows I’d support him either way, I hope he didn’t not tell me because he thought I’d be upset at Him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Dick assured her gently. “Being a big sibling is hard, I know. But trust me you’re doing a great job, better than I did with my brothers,” he said, patting her shoulder. “You can ask him yourself later though. We have a lot to get done today to make sure he’s safe.”

She nodded stubbornly and doubled down on her work, directing them occasionally to where she knew they’d find more weapons or logs. She knew her way around the lab to a disturbing extent. 

Bruce and Dick both got a notification from Agent A saying that after a substantial sleep in Danny had woken up and was having breakfast. He seemed worried about the family but he was taking it alright, especially since he knew they were busy people. It did motivate Dick to clear things up as soon as they could so that they could get back to Danny though. The last thing he needed was More stress!

They had plenty of evidence of the Fenton parents breaking the law to call the police and have them taken away which gave them all the time they needed to strip the house. They got everything they could and decided to leave Constantine at the house to watch the portal until they could figure out how to shut it down completely without causing any damage. It seemed unstable so they didn’t want to risk it just now, especially without Danny’s input because according to Jazz Danny had made genuine connections in the Infinite Realms. 

They wrapped up this stage of the investigation before dinner after being up for about 36 hours. Of course they weren’t Done, there was still plenty to do investigating the government, how they’d gotten away with this and if they had any other nasty tricks up their sleeve. They’d have to manage any backlash from this unilateral move, and they’d have to figure out what to tell the public about Danny since Bruce would be fostering him. But all that could be done after having a family dinner with their new brother and a nap. 

part 5

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Please subscribe to the masterpost everyone! the tag list is getting a bit to big for me to manage ^^;

[sketchyface]

Give my man therapy!

(Tell me if I missed any TW/CW tags!)

[ultimateempath]

This thought isn't going to leave me alone until I write it down so I'm just gonna say it

STANLEY PINES HAS SEXUAL TRAUMA.

The wheel of shame on the website straight up acknowledges that Stan has done sex work and in general engaged in sexual activies, willingly or otherwise, to survive.

Not only this, but you also have to remember that he's been to prison an unknown number of times in three different countries.

The kinds of horrible things known to go on within prison walls already provide some pretty rough implications, but this combined with the fact that, at least at first, Stan didn't seem to know the language(s) of those countries well enough to understand his fellow inmates and was likely more heavily targeted for being a foreigner to begin with....it paints a pretty upsetting picture to say the least.

I don't think any of us really thought about this aspect of his past back when the show was still going because like...he was a character in an animated Disney show and we were like 12, characters with this kind of dark complexity to them were a fresh & new concept to us and a lot of Stans past was toned down and/or put in a comedic light since it was meant to be a kids show.

But now that we're adults and Alex has acted accordingly by targeting older audiences with the new book and website, we've gotten a much clearer and more serious look into just how horrifically bad Stans time on the street really was...and honestly? I think more people should be talking about it.

[fabuloustrash05]

2012 April Haters: 2012 April is a manipulater and likes the attention Donnie and Casey give her!

2012 April: *has verbally told Donnie and Casey that they creep her out when they are ogling at her when they see her in the space jumpsuit, expressed her discomfort with Donnie and Casey hug/touch her without her consent, has shown to be uncomfortable when Casey forces a hug on her in S3, is rightfully uncomfortable when Donnie gives her an inappropriate romantic gift of a music box with his face in it when they’re not even dating, and when she switched bodies with Casey, he took advantage of the situation and felt her up and laughed at April when she berated him and told him to stop touching her body*

Me: …Yes April totally loves the “attention” 🙄

[oblique-lane]

"Just a bunch more biblical paintings then I'll go back to drawing yaoi" Or you can do both, renaissance style, Michelangelo or Raphael I honestly forgot who drew those naked men on the Sistine Chapel's ceilings ok bad joke aside: I'd love hearing more about your headcannons, specifically about the childhoods of the characters (ranging from the mercs, to Miss pauling, the Administrator, hell anyone you have ideas about!)

Childhood headcanons... How did you know I've had something about that on my mind? Alright, let's talk about...

Little Sniper

(Lots of trigger warnings ahead, check tags!)

Mundy was obviously an unhappy child. When I imagine the surroundings he grew up in, I see miles and miles of empty landscapes, dry yellow grass, unkept barns destroyed by rust and a deep choking sense of loneliness.

The closest neighbour woul be so far away you better bring a bicycle with you if you want to visit. School and Church were the only places to go, which were also very far away. No kids his age nearby. And even if there were peers at school, no one wanted him anyway.

Mundy was "weird", he didn't quite understand other kids' jokes, didn't get what was so fun about what everyone else enjoying to do; he was weaker, always loosing in close fights; he didn't even look very local for whatever reason. Even if he tried to get along with someone, it either ended up with him being ostracized or with him experiencing the greatest boredom imaginable. And the kids quickly picked up on his "difference", making him an object of bullying.

It started with making fun of everything Mundy does, his habits and speech patterns, his morals and ideas... Which wasn't anything too big for him but it was still very annoying and upsetting, he grew to hate school very quickly.

Coming home being exhausted from this kind of socializing, no one would really comfort him. Being very little, he used to tell on his bullies to his parents, telling how hurt he was by their words... And it would only made a mess in his family.

Overreactive mother: "Poor baby, I'm so sorry, I'll tell their parents to stop being mean, my little little baby, maybe we can go homeschooling..."

And a strict father: "Are you a man or what? Yeah, he will end up a bloody baby if you keep spoiling him like that! Suck it up! Of you can't stand for yourself, no one will. At this pace you'll end up a nobody, with no home nor respect from the world".

Mundy didn't want to be neither a baby nor a disappointment. He figured that sharing his feelings with parents wouldn't be that good of an idea, they won't understand anyway. And also that he must fight somehow.

If he can't win in close fights, he thought, he could hit them from a distance: throwing small rocks at the bullies from up the tree...

–He was punished for that. For some reason, every time Mundy fought back, he was scolded by the elders, who for some reason always believed the bullies that HE was the one starting the fights. They forbid him to fight back. He closed his feelings shut and stopped paying attention to almost everything around him.

Why was it like that? Why was he so different from other kids, why couldn't he understand them? Why couldn't he understand anyone in this world? The world was a mess of unspoken rules and suffering, overcoming oneself, pain; he couldn't fit in. He was always on the wrong even if he didn't do anything. He felt like an outsider everywhere he went.

Sometimes he wondered if he was born into a wrong family or that he wasn't a human at all. Looking at the night sky, he was thinking about aliens, maybe they would come to him someday and take him to the planet he truly belongs, being accidentally swapped at birth. Maybe then he will be happy, he will leave this sickening place and finally start living. He thought about dying, too.

He started to spend a lot of time in the forest any chance he got. He was alone here, unwatched, somewhat free. It was easier to breathe here. He was alone but it didn't feel worse than being with those people. He played by himself. He started to believe that he actually liked loneliness.

As Mundy and his peers grew older, the kids started to become more and more savage, thanks to the hormones and age crisis. Bullying intensified as those kids started to feel the need to assert themselves. Mundy was maliciously beaten (he fought back as much as he could and even win sometimes, but the beating only got worse each time). They used any chance to humiliate him.

And each time after that Mundy would take the knife or his father's shotgun and go to the forest to take his anger on animals, "hunting", since he couldn't do anything to fix the root of the problem.

He would hunt for something small, like birds or feral rabbits so he could butcher them and cook on fire to eat. At moments like this he felt like a beast, and somehow it was the most pleasant state for him to be in.

There were no words available to form his pain into, so the pain came through violence. The more violent his abusers became, the more violent he was at his "hunting". The more he felt his father's gaze piercing him with disappointment, the sharper his knife movements would get. Sometimes he would let the bodies to just rot like that, completely butchered in a very non-culinary way.

(Maybe someday he would lure one of those bastards to the forest and kill him the same way and blame it on an animal attack)

And at some point... His classmates would came up with something that would cross all the lines of forgivable. Somewhere there was the peak of what they could do. Something beyond.

There wasn't a known way to him to deal with that. No known words. Everyone would be so grossed out of him if they knew. He was beyond disgusted with himself, too. What was the point of living now?

That day he would shot a wild boar, take his machete out and cut it open, butcher it the way his father would when they wanted a pork dinner for the night... And reached to its heart.

The heart is where the love is stored, right? That's what people say when referring to this "love" he'd never seem to know. A dark read bloody organ that feels like sponge inside of thin rubber. There's something about this that Mundy lacks. He has a heart too, it's pulsating inside him, but for some reason it was unable to produce the "love", a very necessary fluid for a human body. He wondered if it's sweet. He wondered if he was even able to taste it.

He took a bite... And realized what he was doing.

He was, indeed, a monster.

When he went back home, later than usual, he would be met with his father's gaze. He was always throwing gazes, for every occasion, Mundy was used to feel small and guilty under them. But this time... It felt somehow much more personal. More disturbing.

His father looked at him as if he was a dirty little creature, a rat, a maggot. He looked at him the way one would look at a criminal who wronged their whole family. He looked at him like he knew.

His father didn't say anything that day and it wasn't brought up ever again.

Mundy was indeed a monster who was utterly terrified of this though. He didn't want to be one. He made a promise to himself that everything he does will be morally justified, he promised himself to become a good... decent person. He would earn his place in the world, even if his father, everyone else denies it.

It gets blurry at this point. Sniper doesn't really remember his life before about 17, when he was finishing school and starting to work on his sniper licence. For some reason he always knew he would be good at shooting and killing. When remembering his home, Sniper would recall the smell of grass, mother's cooking, the warm sun, and a steady life he had. He knew it was boring, but it still somehow felt like home. Home he felt was lost somewhere he didn't remember.

Either way, he was always a loner.

[cupcakeslushie]

Love the newest Kendratello update 🫠. Can't help but wonder, how much do Raph and Leo try to protect Mikey from just how dark Donnie's situation got or even can they? I'm assuming Mikey was there for the rescue, like they can't keep him safe from everything, not least when Donnie starts having seizures.

Leo thinks Mikey has a right to know, but also, at the same time, this is too heavy for any of them. Leo has no idea what to do, considering he’s always treated Mikey like he was capable. Raph doesn’t want Mikey to know, at all. Angelo’s way of helping is analyzing things very emotionally. Raph is worried that his emphatic need to be the fixer of all their family’s issues, will blow back on him, and Donnie. They have to tread very carefully from here on. They were already struggling with Donnie being terrified of them, this is a whole other Pandora’s box that’s been opened.

⚠️ cw: sa mentioned, conditioning

[di-42]

OK, can I say this?

I'm fucking relieved!

It was starting to feel dystopian that Amazon, Netflix or, until recently, Disney didn't even acknowledge the allegations. And that's so fucked up.

Mind you, I know Amazon is only in it for the money, of course. But the ability to make money in this business depends also on public opinion and if public opinion allows you to go on like nothing happened, then big corporations will go on like nothing happened.

I was chatting with someone here on tumblr recently and I was telling them that I've lived in an alternative universe where Good Omens S3 could be done without the NG's involvement other than handing over the script.

I hope this is the first step in that direction. I hope they buy the script off him and seal the end of his career. The end of him.

I hope that's what happens, but, ultimately, if I had to chose between a GO S3 with NG's involvement or no S3 at all, I would choose no S3 at all.

[ghostboneswrites2]

Safer

Summary: After the fall of the prison and a brutal assault, Daryl cares for you.

NOTE (please read): A mutual requested this a while ago. Took a long while to write, and tbh I considered turning the req down given the premise and my firm stance on writing graphic SA which you can find here. However, they explained to me that they are a victim of a violent s*xual assault, and they expressed it would be healing in a way to have a story where they were cared for by their comfort character. After some consideration, I decided to go for it. I'm sure a lot of us have been victimized by people who couldn't control their urges, or those who lacked respect for our boundaries, bodies, and consent. Myself included. So, this story is for us, to those of us that can stomach it. 

DISCLAIMER: There are no scenes of graphic SA, only the aftermath. While I will not be telling any descriptive scenarios of being assaulted, I do want to clearly express that this is a generally heavy story and it may not be suitable for all audiences. Please consume responsibly.

**I will not be tagging anyone on the taglist due to the content of this story**

18+MDNI ||  WARNINGS: non-graphic allusions to SA, violence, mild nudity descriptions, generally heavy content so I can't say it enough: TW!!!

Banners credited on my masterlist!!

        Daryl's vision was blurred as he blinked himself to consciousness. It took him some time to gather his thoughts and recognize his surroundings. His wrists and ankles were bound together, his mouth gagged with a cloth that tasted of sweat and filth. He stared up at the treetops towering over him. It was dark outside, save for the dim light of a dying campfire a few feet away. He lifted his head from the forest floor and looked down past his feet. Lumps of sleeping bodies under raggedy blankets and torn sleeping bags rested around him. His heart raced as his memories crept back in; of you, screaming his name, of him fighting off the group of men who caught him off guard, of twigs snapping and a searing pain over the side of his head. Was that why his face felt so sticky? Was it dried blood?

        His eyes strained in the fading light of ember and ash. Where were you? He noticed a crumpled form at the foot of a tree. Her breathing was shallow and her clothes were torn, pants not even pulled up over her bare behind. That much, he could see. His throat tightened. His eyes watered. What the hell had he let them do to you? How could he have let this happen? He had to get you out of there, and fast. If they hadn't killed him yet, that was surely on their agenda.

        He began to squirm and writhe against his restraints. Whoever tied him up had experience. Just as hopelessness began to set in and cloud his judgement with fear -- real, genuine fear -- he noticed a reflection in the leaves. Just a few feet past his boots, a man was curled up on his side, snoring lightly in the calm breeze. His back was turned to Daryl, and behind him set a grungy backpack with a blade sticking out of the smallest pocket in the front. He glanced back  to you, shivering on the ground, unsure if you were awake or unconscious or simply passed out from the exhaustion of prior events. 

        The sight of you in your disheveled mess was all her needed to kick him into gear. Carefully and hastily, he scooted himself down toward his only chance at redeeming his status as a loyal protector of the weak and vulnerable. Ideally, he'd be able to accomplish this in silence, but he was not in an ideal situation. His circumstances were heavy, laced in sweat and angst. The leaves beneath him rustled as his back slid across the ground, twigs snapping or moving to the side as he made his way closer to the large hunting knife. He'd pause between each scoot, studying the sleeping men around him for any sign of movement or wakefulness. When he'd decide the coast was clear enough, he'd resume. It felt like an eternity, but he made it there. 

        His core muscles strained as he sat himself up. He realized how sore he was. He must have taken a good beating. Seemed fitting, though. He was never one to go down without a fight. He left that sort of weakness in his past.

        He guided his shaky, bound hands over to the bag. He slowly slid the knife out of the front pocket. His heart raged against his ribs. He didn't dare take a single breath until it was secured. 

        Slow. Slowness. Slowly. He repeated every variation of the word in his mind as he positioned the knife between his palms and dragged it back and forth until the rope finally severed. A silent breath of relief escaped him as he ripped the gag from his lips and worked on the rope tied around his ankles. When he was free, he stood and counted the sleeping bodies beneath him. Excluding you, there were four. 

        He considered waking you up and running for the hills, but he couldn't leave any loose ends. No, he thought of it like when your t-shirt has a loose thread. You could leave it to keep unraveling, or you could burn it at  the base and extend the lifetime of your clothes. He decided he needed to burn this string before it could unravel any further.

        Starting with the man closest to him -- the one who so graciously left his knife in plain sight for the archer -- he krept over and crouched down, plunching the blade into the base of his skull. Then, he moved on to the next, and the next one, and the one after that, until they were all a problem of the past. Until that pesky little thread could do no further damage to the rest of the shirt.       

        When the dirty work was behind him, he dropped the knife and rushed over to you. Your wrists were tied like his, but you were tied to the tree so you couldn't run. He eyed you over and gulped. With your pants not fully covering you and your shirt all ripped up, he could see the finger-shaped bruises littering your skin. There was blood on your inner thighs. Your lips were swollen and cut. His blood heated until it hit a boiling point. His hands trembled as they hovered over you. Touching you  felt like a crime, but he had to wake you. He had to get you out of there.

        "(Y/N)." He whispered as he laid a hand on your shoulder. You were shivering in the cool air, but a thin layer of sweat blanketed your exposed flesh. He gave you a gentle shake. "((Y/N), c'mon. We gotta go." He pleaded softly.        

        Your body jerked and you jolted awake. You gave him no chance to explain as you scrambled to your knees and cowered away against the tree. 

        "(Y/N) it's me. It's Daryl." He attempted his most soothing tone of voice. "C'mon, let me get ya cleaned up."        

        He outstretched his arm, offering you his  hand. Without making eye contact you made a move to take it, but you were stopped by the restricting force of the rope that kept you anchored to the tree trunk. He moved quickly for the knife he tossed to the side earlier and returned with it. Without the pressure of remaining silent, he had your hands free in seconds.

        He wasted no time helping you to your feet and averting his gaze as he slid your pants up where they belonged. He found he had a hard time keeping his mind straight and focused as your weeping filled the quiet campsite. 

        "Shh.." He cooed, keeping one hand on your upper back as he ushered you along with him to gather his things and yours. A smart man would have rummaged through the belongings of the ones he killed, too, but he wasn't concerned with making a smart call at that point. He was only worried about you.

        "It's alright. C'mon. Let's get ya somewhere you can rest. It's alright. C'mon." He felt useless as ever, repeating the same generic words of comfort as you limped along beside him. He never urged you to up the pace, he didn't drag you along or have you carry your own bag. He felt like the least he could do was shoulder the weight of survival on behalf of you both. He couldn't get the image out of his mind of ou laying there,caked in blood, sweat, and bruises. A girl like you should have been caked in perfume and makeup. You hair should have been done up nice for a Sunday brunch, not matted with leaves and dirt. Your clothes should have been pristine and well fitting, unlike the filthy torn clothes that were beginning to hang off your frame like tender meat falling from the bone. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve any of it.

        Eventually he found an acceptable spot that looked like it could have been a den for a hibernating bear. It was a big shrub by a little stream, perfectly indented to give you both enough room to crouch under its foliage. He gently set you down, dropping his bow and your bags beside him. He crouched down in front of you and scanned you, worry written articulately over his features. 

        Your eyes remained glued to the ground. Your nose was upturned in disgust but your eyes told a different story; one of pain and despair and mourning for the person you were before that night. Your frown was deep enough to leave a scar. 

        "(Y/N)..." He breathed. Your eyes slowly found their way to his and welled with tears all over again. Of all things you had -- meaning, being alive and away from those men -- there was nothing you were more grateful for than his blue eyes staring back at you. You hated the way he looked at you with defeat and pity, though. You hated that he had one more thing to worry about. Still, he was there, and he was welcome. "Let's get ya cleaned up, okay?"

        You nodded once, if absentmindedly. Your thoughts were elsewhere. You couldn't pinpoint their location, though. They were scrambled, swarming all around you, like gnats you couldn't swat away.

        He pulled an old shirt from his bag and leaned over to the stream, getting it nice and wet before wringing it out. He turned back to you and brought it up to your cheek, gently dabbing and swiping away at the dirt, grime, sweat, and blood. He moved on to your neck and hands, then he paused. You both looked down at your jeans. You knew it needed to be taken care of, and he did too, but the question was really about which one of you would be brave enough to work on the gruesome scene between your legs.

        One look at your expression and he knew it couldn't be you. But, how could it be him? He couldn't put you in such a vulnerable position. No, not him.

        That's when the lightbulb went off over his head. The stream, of course.

        "Here." He offered you a hand. You took it slowly and he led you to your feet. "Wanna get in the water?" He asked. You stared down at the serene flowing water, trickling just before your feet. He cleared his throat. "I don't gotta look."

        You almost could have laughed. After everything that had happened, Daryl seeing you bathe wasn't really a concern. Still, you had to maintain some shred of dignity, and washing those men off of you was a much needed stride toward leaving that horrid night in your past. So, you nodded, and he turned away to start a fire where you could warm up after rinsing off.

        The button was busted off of your jeans. You guessed they couldn't waste their time with something as simple as undoing a button. You let out a shaky sigh and gritted your teeth. You moved to bend over and slide your jeans down, but a searing pain shot through your insides. You whimpered. "I can't." You barely managed.

        "Huh?" He asked over his shoulder.

        "I can't." You spoke up with a tremble. "I can't get them off. It hurts."

        His throat tightened up. Had they really been so cruel to you?

        "Ya want me to..." He trailed off.

        "Please." You whispered and shut your eyes. He stood beside you and pulled your pants down to your ankles, kneeling down as he did so.

        "Grab my shoulder." He instructed softly. You did. "Left leg." He said. You pulled it out. "Now the right." 

        With your jeans off, he stood up and looked down at your face, which you his from him, avoiding his gaze. 

        "Your -- Uh.." He glanced down at your underwear. You nodded, not needing to see what he meant. He followed the same process with those and turned away as soon as he was done. You cleared your throat. 

        "Can you help me sit?" You whispered. He sucked in a breath. It wasn't that you were annoying him. Anything but that, actually. He was glad to help you in any way you needed. It was the simple fact that you needed the help that was eating him alive. The thought that those guys could hurt you in this way, to this extent, was infuriating and heartbreaking. 

        He turned back to you and hovered behind you, placing a hand under each arm to support you while you lowered yourself down into the water. Once you were sitting on the creek bed, you adjusted yourself and sighed.

        "Just, uh, watch for snakes, okay?" Was all he could say before turning his attention back to the fire finally.

        Your frown deepened as you stared down at your bloodied thighs. A plop beside you startled you before realizing it was just the old shirt he was using to clean you up.

        "Figured ya might need it." He mumbled.

        You gripped the cloth in your hand and stared at it. Blood and filth stained it. Your lip quivered as you ran it over your inner thighs, scrubbing your own dried blood away and watching it disappear in the gentle current. You hissed and winced as you cleaned yourself where you were really injured. 

        When you were done, you peered over your shoulder, where Daryl stared at the small flame. He felt your eyes on him and he looked up at you. 

        "Need some clothes?" He asked.

        "Please." You replied. He nodded once and rummaged through your bag. He could only find a semi-clean shirt, but no more pants. He pulled his own bag forward and searched for the new two-pack of boxers he'd scavenged awhile back. 

        "I, uh, didn't see no more pants, but... You can have those." He said, holding your shirt and the fresh boxers out to you.

        "Thanks." You pressed your lips into a thin attempt at a friendly smile. 

        He turned away again so you could change your shirt, but you needed his help with the boxers, which he did without you needing to ask, and without a single peek at you.

        He helped you back over to the den where you could warm up by the fire. You kept the blanket in your bag, so he made sure to wrap it around your shoulders while you sat.

        "Ain't got no food." He broke the silence after a little while. You nodded.

        "Not hungry anyways." 

        "Mm." He hummed. "Get some sleep. I'll keep watch."

----

        By midday, you were on the move again, trailing right behind him as he stomped slowly over the underbrush so you could keep his pace. He'd stop every now and then, and though he didn't say it, you knew it was because he didn't want to overwork you. 

        By late afternoon, the sun was on the far end of the sky, casting an orange glow over the woods. 

        Daryl had barely been able to look at you, and you couldn't exactly claim any different. You two had taken a break again, sipping water and scanning around for any game or edible plants.

        "I want ya to know.." He cleared his throat, shattering the thick silence that glazed over you both all day. "I want ya to know I didn't see it. None of it."

        "I know you weren't looking." You deadpanned.

        "Nah, not at the stream. I meant -- I didn't see none of it." He clarified. He had a sneaking suspicion the reason you couldn't bare to look at him might have been the possibility of him seeing what had happened to you. He, however, just hated seeing you look so broken, knowing had he been more vigilant yesterday, none of those guys would have been able to sneak up on him. You looked at him finally.

        "I know. They hit you over the head 'cause you were fighting them."

        "Mm." He nodded. "I just... I need to tell ya I'm sorry." His voice cracked as he looked down at his hands and back up to you. His leg was bouncing anxiously and his gums must have bled from how hard he chewed at them.

        "Why?" You pushed your eyebrows together.

        "I shoulda been lookin' out. Shoulda protected ya. Shoulda--"

        "You were. You have been." You cut him off. "You've looked out for me every day since the prison. You've been protecting me since the quarry. You protect everyone. That wasn't your fault." You insisted. He just looked back down at his hands and sniffled, blinking back tears. He scolded himself for being the one to cry, when you were the one who got hurt. "Hey." You pressed on. "Listen to me. You got us out of there. You took care of them. You saved me. Then, you still took care of me. If we were still back there, they would have killed you and robbed you by now. And, if they hadn't killed me yet, I'd be wishing I was dead. I wouldn't be here without you. I would have never survived even before last night without you, and I wouldn't be sitting here telling you that today if it weren't for you."

        He looked you in the eyes as you spoke every word. It was a great relief to him that you weren't angry with him -- that you didn't blame him. Still, he felt so uneasy.

        "Can we camp here?" You asked suddenly. He shrugged.

        "Yeah. We can." He agreed. His voice was still broken.

        "Can I sit with you?" You asked. He looked confused but he still nodded, even if he was unsure what you meant.

        Ignoring the aches all over your body, you crawled over to him and sat in front of him, between his legs, leaning your back against his torso. He was stiff, unused to being so close to someone, but he didn't resist. As you settled in and got comfortable, he rested his arms by your sides.

        "You didn't fail me, Daryl. Nobody makes me feel safer."

Join the taglist || Masterlist

[bl0w-m3]

[seeingivy]

the lore

sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's (older brother) sukuna fic

previous part linked here

AN: tw/ mentions of SA and manipulation. please read at your own discretion - protect your own peace!!!

--

“okay, well. it was back when-” you start. 

sukuna reaches forward and pinches the bridge of your nose. 

“are you a nutjob?” 

you frown. 

“huh?” 

sukuna drops his hands from your face, resting them against your waist before he uses them to spin you around. he’s walking behind you, leading your steps to the bedroom and whispering into your neck. 

“c’mon. we’ll wash up for bed and then talk. want you to be comfortable and all that, we’re not gonna have a serious conversation in the fucking kitchen.” sukuna murmurs. 

you smile, letting his attentive hands lead you to the bathroom as he busies himself with doing nearly everything for you. pulling the clips out of your hair and placing the headband just right to pull your hair back, putting toothpaste on both of your brushes, and busying himself with doing your skincare. 

his fingers are soft on your cheeks, the slight tautness of his fingertips massaging the terse of your cheek. 

and you can’t help but stare at him. at the arch of his eyebrows, his eyes attentively focused on the task, and how slowly he’s breathing – in full focus. 

“quit staring. you're freaking me out with your bug eyes.” sukuna murmurs. 

you smile. 

“you’re a big acts of service guy.” you state. 

“eh?” 

“acts of service! it’s a love language.” 

sukuna glares at you. 

“love language? where the fuck do you come up with this shit?” 

you hum in response. 

“it’s a book – you can even take a quiz to see which of the five is yours. it’s how you show love, how you like to receive it. and yours is acts of service.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“is not.” 

“yeah, it is! you always like to do stuff for me. like when you washed all my clothes. took the train back to the apartment for me, making me breakfast. you like to do things for me!” 

“you’re my girlfriend. i’m not a fucking asshole that’s going to let you take the train alone at night.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“but the breakfast.” 

“you know, i’m quite attached to my security deposit. can’t exactly have you burning my apartment down every morning.” sukuna complains.

you frown. 

“still. you like to do things for me. that’s how you show your love.” 

the serum he spreads under your eyes cools your skin, as you instinctively shut your eyes and welcome the tiny sting. 

“what’s yours?” 

“quality time! and words of affirmation.” 

sukuna pauses. 

“sounds about right. you’re always lurking around here, like a troll.” 

you open your eyes and give him a grin. 

“i’ll just be on my way out then.” you state, stepping out of the bathroom. 

but sukuna’s too quick with it, wrapping his hands around your waist and resting his chin on top of your head. he tickles at your sides, as you try to squirm out of his touch and smack his arms. 

“when did i tell you to leave, huh?” 

“quit tickling, i’m-” 

“you leave when i tell you to leave.” sukuna states. 

sukuna’s tickling subsides, as you heave and turn around to glare at him. sukuna’s delighted at the pink flush in your cheeks, coupled with the murderous glare you’re giving him. 

“if you had your way, i’d never leave.” you state.

sukuna leans forward, lips brushing against yours and nose ghosting your skin. 

“something wrong with that, huh? is it a crime to want you all to myself?” sukuna whispers. 

it’s enough to send an electrifying jolt down to your core, as you look up at his brown eyes – honeyed over with sweetness. you reach forward and cup his cheek. 

“no.” you whisper. 

sukuna presses a kiss to the top of your head, before locking his hand in with yours and dragging you out. and you both turn around, quickly discarding your dress clothes for your pajamas and settle under the sheets, tangling your legs together, as you rest your head against his bare shoulder – twisting the little charm on his necklace between your fingers. 

sukuna’s hands are in your hair, massaging into your temples as you push your cheek harder into the warmth of his shoulder. 

“sometimes it’s hard to explain how things were when they…build up over time. when i try to explain it…it all seems so trivial but i-” 

“none of this is going to sound trivial to me.” sukuna clarifies. 

you smile. 

“i know. i just mean, it’ll sound…stupid. petty stuff at first but it–” 

“acknowledging that someone treated you so far from what you deserve is never going to be stupid to me.” 

the bluntness is enough to catch you off guard. you give him a meek nod, feeling your cheeks head up as you try to remember the order of events, how things escalated so far, and it’s almost like the damper of it all is back in your brain. 

sometimes remembering feels like an oversaturated filter. that if you recollect your memories, that underlying feeling of the memories casts over your entire head, that it sucks out your energy even though nothing is really happening – even though you’re far from him and from being treated like that again. 

“no one liked me when i was in middle school.” you state. 

sukuna fights the urge to correct you. to tell you all about the camping bag, about how he thought about it for years, even mentioning it at his big age of twenty one to all of his coworkers. but he refrains. 

“maybe some part of me internalized that. but i’d watch as people all around me would…would have these guys interested in them. and sometimes i’d try to copy them. i’d want the same jewelry, like the same movies…try to change my hair so i’d look like them.” 

sukuna presses a kiss to your hair. you get the message and shoot him a halfhearted smile. 

“when i went to highschool…i was really hyper aware of what other people wore. talked about, when it came to guys. and sometimes it would really frustrate me – how stupid, how fucking petty people would be in relationships.” you start. 

“i would have killed to be in their position, sukuna. that if i got to love someone, if…if i could get someone to like me back, i would have done it so right. i’d buy them gifts, i’d tell them i love them, i would never talk to other guys because they were all i wanted.” you finish. 

how adamant you were being about sucking his dick an hour ago suddenly makes plain, clear sense to sukuna – confirming his hunch entirely. that you’d do anything to make him happy, and while it’s a noble quality, a part of him knows where this is going – and the fact that someone took advantage of it, such a deep earnestness to love, to please, fills him with an insurmountable amount of disgust. 

“when i was in my sophomore year of highschool, i had a crush on this guy named parker.” you state. 

“with your weird inappropriate english teacher, i remember.” 

you smile. 

“yeah. i feel like it was one of those…those cosmic connection type things. where you see someone and you just know you like them. he was doing role on the first day and…and i don’t know what it is but i just found myself being drawn to him. i couldn’t help but stare – at how he smiled at his friends, waved at other people in the class.” 

you cringe. 

“fuck. i’m sorry. i shouldn’t be talking about other guys like that when–” 

sukuna shakes his head, dismissively. 

“i want to know the whole story. if this is a part of it, if this is what’s truthful for you, then that’s okay. granted, i already have a leg up on this parker idiot – you’re in my bed, tangled up in my arms right now. not his.” 

you smile. 

“you jealous?” 

“of some pipsqueak little fifteen year old who didn’t see your worth? absolutely not. and we’re the ones with the real cosmic connection, so i’ll live.” sukuna deadpans. 

“we have a cosmic connection?” you ask. 

“of course. you think i let yuuji play my video games when i was six? i only let you guys play, the first time we met because you were there. i was fully intent on hanging him upside down from his legs but…decided against it.” 

you smile, pressing a kiss into the muscle of his shoulder. it takes a second – to reach your train of thought again – and sukuna affords you the time to think, twirling the ends of your hair in his fingers. 

“the year after that, i ended up in this big friend group of people, with guys, which i had never had before. it was originally a big group for a school dance, but…we just ended up hanging out after that. and when we all started hanging out as a group, i realized that my best friend and parker would…talk a lot. we’d go on picnics and they’d be trailing behind the group – and i’d never really found myself fitting in with any of them.” you state. 

you pause. 

“i’m really boring, sukuna. i mean, i know that i’m not boring, that drinking and smoking and going to parties or whatever doesn’t make you cool – but at that time, i felt boring. they’d all smoke and i’d shake them off, they’d all dress a certain type of way and i wouldn’t. and…and it was like everyone knew it too.”  

“we’d play these games of truth or dare. and i’d always do dare, just to…get sometime tame. like writing something in marker on the wall.” 

sukuna’s eyes widen. 

“how is vandalism tame?” 

“erasable markers. and compared to everyone else’s dares – to kiss each other on the neck, to wear each other’s clothes or…or take their own clothes off. i’m glad they never asked me to do that stuff, because they knew i wouldn’t or…or i couldn’t…but. made me feel like a sore thumb sometimes.” 

you swallow hard. 

“there was this guy in the group. his name was mazzy.” 

“prick name.” sukuna states. 

you laugh. 

“you’re funny.” 

“what was funny about that? objectively, that is such a prick name. i want him dead.” 

you can’t help but look up at him, his angry brown eyes looking down at yours. and slowly but surely, he breaks out into a smile, rubbing into the little smile lines by your eyes. 

“i love how i just wished death on another person and you’re smiling at me like i’m the sun.” sukuna states. 

you laugh in response, as you rest your head back against his shoulder and trace stars into your shoulder. 

and there’s a searing regret when you recall that what comes next was the catalyst for everything that happened – that a seemingly harmless move caused you some of the deepest, gutting pain of your life. 

“i sent him a tiktok, based on this inside joke that the entire group had about him. individually, in a chat with just me and him. and after that…we just started talking. everyday, about lots of different things.”

you swallow hard. 

“about him, a lot. he’d tell me all about…the girls he liked, what he liked about them. it was always objectifying. and…sometimes he’d make these comments after i asked why he told me. i was…trying to hint that he thought i was really trustworthy, or that we were friends but-” 

you frown. 

“he’d always say it’s because i’m not a real girl.” 

“what?” sukuna asks. 

you can feel hot tears in your eyes, remembering the biting sting of being told that in the early hours of the morning, when you’d sacrifice your sleep to hear what he had to say.

“i wasn’t a real girl.” you whisper.  

sukuna reaches forward, swiping the lone tear spilling from your eye, his demeanor washed over in concern, in contempt. 

“he…he wasn’t a good guy. so, just…don’t judge me for not saying anything about it or the comments he made and-” 

“you were sixteen. keep going.” sukuna whispers. 

the recognition, or the mere acknowledgement, that sukuna wasn’t going to accost you for not doing the right thing is enough to make your chest ache. because now, at twenty-two, the comments he made – slight jabs at the expense of others – they disgust you. 

and sometimes it disgusted you that you had put up with it, that you had brushed it aside, just so that you wouldn’t have to be alone. that you were that desperate for it. 

“when i asked what he meant, he said it again. that i don’t count as a real girl, that…which is why he can tell me about how hot other girls are, how horny he is for them all the time. and i know – trust me, i know how fucked up it was of him to say that, of me to not correct him – but…i guess i just internalized it instead. that he had put words to the feeling i had. that i didn’t get dares like the other girls did, that other guys weren’t interested in me, because…” 

there’s a block lodged in your throat, vision blurry. 

“because i’m not a real girl. i’m not pretty, and i wasn’t smart and – why would someone ever consider me…why did i delude myself into thinking it could be different?” 

sukuna’s insurmountable rage is displaced now, from this faceless asshat, to everyone else. to idiots like naobito – who was going to get another beating from him – to yuuji and kugisaki’s seemingly harmless comments, even down to your mother who had affirmed this feeling to you. hundreds of times over. 

but he realizes that it's because they don't know. and makes every intention to stop them, in the most discrete way he can.

“a year after that, he started talking to me about more personal stuff. about his parents, how he thought his sister hated him. and i’d always listen – i’d always affirm him that i thought he was great, and that point, i had started liking him…and i’d do anything to make him feel good.” you state. 

you bite into your cheek. 

“there was this day where he was talking about his parents, about how he felt so frustrated hiding it, and i…i told him that it wasn’t just him who felt like that, that lots of people did. like me. and it was almost like he had flipped a switch – because we went from talking about him to him…wanting to know everything about me.” 

sukuna absentmindedly tucks your hair behind your ear, the thoughts floating around his head. that at that time, it must have meant the world to you. that now, you were one of those people. that someone wanted to talk to you, to know about you too.  

but it leaves him with a sour taste in his mouth. because it almost feels exploitative to him, that this asshat had talked to you for a year at this point, and had only now thought to ask about you. after you had played therapist for a year. 

and the thought of you spilling out your secrets – about your dad, about sammy – just to have it turn around on you alter makes him understand that little concrete wall. and thanks the lords that he was there, a house across from you his entire life. 

the regret that sukuna left is deeper. because sukuna couldn’t have prevented it – any of it – but the thought of you suffering alone made his stomach hurt. that he could have at least been here. 

“where was yuuji?” sukuna asks. 

“you know…no one really knew that we talked. yuuji included. it was almost late into the night and…and when we first got together, we didn’t tell anyone for months. it wasn’t going to be a good idea, because of a fight we had before we were dating, where he called me a bitch in front of everyone and-” 

“he called you a bitch?” 

“yeah. it was this dumb thing, group plans that i had made that were kind of spontaneous from this volunteering thing. some people felt left out, and…and i had even invited him because he wasn’t there…but later…when it all kind of blew up in my face, he called me a bitch and everyone was just confused as to why we were friends after that. left a bad taste in people’s mouths.” 

“why didn’t it? for you?” sukuna whispers. 

“he was really good at being apologetic. and if someone was being earnest, i was always going to forgive.” you murmur. 

sukuna frowns. 

“always loved that about you. that you saw good, even if there wasn’t any.” 

you smile. 

“yeah. came to bite me in the butt later but…i’m getting ahead of myself.” 

sukuna nods, hand warm around your neck, as he pulls you closer. 

“when we met up for the first time, we wrote each other these letters. mine was four pages – about all the things i liked about him, memories that i cherished. and he wrote me one too, but…” 

you pause. 

“it was nice. there was stuff in there that was nice. but..he ended it with some joke about how he wanted to hit it from behind.” 

sukuna watches the disgust spread over your face, as you shake your head like you’re trying to get it off of you.

“he also tried to kiss me that day. but i dodged it. he did grab my butt though, which…i don’t know. guess i wasn’t expecting, but maybe should have in hindsight. he had asked me to wear these leggings and this form fitting shirt…” 

sukuna tries to think back to the first time the two of you kissed – to see if there were any inclinations of you pulling away. but he remembers it vividly, the way he pulled you into his lap in your bedroom, pressing kisses into your neck while you were begging him to kiss you full on. 

it makes him happy. 

but it disgusts him, the second part. that he had dictated what you were going to wear, that he had run his hands over you without asking for permission. and it reminds him of that day, where you were purposely trying to dress to impress him, and thanks the heavens he trusted his instincts and asked you to change. 

“the second time, i mustered the courage to kiss him back when he leaned in. and he was kind of…aggressive with it. a lot of the things he did were that way, kind of a lot. i’m more into…the softer things i guess but –” 

“i love that.” sukuna states. 

you smile. 

“yeah?” 

“i’m not a fan of that – the aggressiveness.” 

sukuna brings his fingertips to your face, thumb brushing down from the bridge to the end of your nose. 

“i like to savor it. keep it slow, so…so i can feel it all. commit you to my memory.” sukuna whispers. 

your shy smile makes sukuna’s heart skip a beat. 

“me too. wanna remember it forever.” you whisper. 

sukuna gives you a smile, before nodding for you to continue. 

“he talked to me a lot about how…horny he was before we were even dating. but now that we were, it was…something he talked about a lot. and while he never…outright forced me to do something, it was almost like he was wearing me down. first, he…he wanted me to send him nudes. i didn’t like the idea of doing that because he could use them against me so he told me that we should just…facetime and do it, if we had to.” you murmur. 

there’s an embarrassment that’s blooming over your skin, images of sneaking downstairs – past sammy and your mom – just so you wouldn’t get caught. 

“and i said no. but he asked again and i…i guess i caved. then he was talking about he wanted to take screenshots…because…” 

you lean your head back, the embarrassment – the realization that you had done something so utterly stupid that it made you keel back. but this time, sukuna fills the silence. the way you were harshly cutting off the circulation to his hand from squeezing signaled to him that he had to – and he wanted to meet you where you were. 

“you’re doing so good, you know that?”  sukuna whispers. 

there’s a film of tears in your eyes. and you shake your head. 

his lips are warm on your forehead, brushing away the frown lines. 

“doing so good, angel. so proud of you, you know that?” 

you scoff. 

“for what? being an idiot?” you murmur. 

sukuna’s voice is soft, but adamant. 

“don’t.” 

you sigh. 

“sorry. it’s a habit. i…i don’t actually think i’m an idiot. for any of it, because…i was just a kid. i just wanted someone to like me and–” 

“and someone took advantage, sweetheart. that doesn't make you an idiot.” 

it makes your chest ache. that he understands it. 

“yeah.” 

you swallow hard. it's enough to keep you going.

“he told me that i made it really hard for him…to jack off. because i didn’t really wear revealing clothes, which is why he needed the picture. that it would take him hours and that…if he had something it would just make it easier.” 

sukuna’s eyes have a murderous glint, but you ignore it for the time being. 

“it was kind of a slippery slope after that. because how are nudes different from a screenshot? that he’s my boyfriend so i should trust him and let him save them. that i should take my phone in the shower and call him and…” 

you trace the outline of sukuna’s tattoos. 

“he’d mask it all in compliments. tell me that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me and then ask. say that i was the most beautiful girl that he had ever seen before he asked me to get up and send him a picture after i was already in bed.” you state. 

sukuna gets it. words of affirmation. mazzy knew it meant the world to you and used it to his advantage.

“we started meeting up after that. and you remember how strict my mom was with sammy and his parents were too…so we’d kind of just…do stuff in my car.” 

you frown. 

“i’d fight with my mom about it. about how i wanted to drive myself to hangouts. she thought it wasn’t safe, but i’d just…cry so hard about it…because i knew it would disappoint him and i had to go. she’d give in, but…i’d feel like shit after the fact. and whenever we did stuff, it would be blistering hot in the car and his touch was already so…aggressive that i hated it.” 

you sigh. 

“i’d feel disgusting afterwards. not only because i was caked in sweat or because i did that, but…he’d always call me names. was really into choking and…and i was always scared that my mom would find out when i’d come home looking disheveled or smelling like him. i’d spend hours in the shower trying to scrub the feeling off till i was clean.” 

the obsessiveness. sukuna had watched you do it hundreds of times, pricked and prodded at your skin when you felt like you were at your worst. he cups his cheek in your hand, fingers soft on the little blemish on your cheek – and he can’t help but wonder how many times you had picked at it until it bled, scraped off the healing in the name of feeling like his touch was off of you. 

you can see sukuna’s eye watering and before you can even prod as to why, he shakes his head. 

“there was one time where the security guards of that mall caught us, because i needed to turn the air on in the car. and it was so humiliating, because i wasn’t wearing a shirt and…and they flashed a light on me and started yelling at me. i…i found it hard to take my shirt off after that and…i don’t know. he’d do stuff like that all the time. grope me in public when we were standing against the wall or…at the prom after he didn’t ask me.” you state. 

you shake your head. 

“anyways, we told people at some point. and people stopped talking to me. he wasn’t a nice guy, he…he had even bullied some of my friends which i found out about later, but…they just didn’t want to associate with him or me by proxy. yuuji was one of the only friends i had during that time, but he was really confused about what was happening too. and he’d ask but…i couldn’t bring myself to tell him because he’d want me to end it then and there. and i would have but–” 

you lean your head back. 

“he was really unstable. every time he fought with people, he would tell me that he…he'd get so upset and...and punch walls and stuff. and…i felt like it was on me, that his life was in my hands if i didn’t say the right thing. so if i ended things, i’d be leaving him alone – without a lifeline.” 

sukuna breaks the silence. 

“that’s a big burden to carry at seventeen. feeling like you’re responsible for someone’s wellbeing.” 

the recognition makes you cry. 

“yeah. it…it is, isn’t it? and-and it was so scary, sukuna. i really thought something bad was going to happen…so i did what i knew would make him feel better.” 

sukuna understands. that you were able to give it up and do the one thing you hated doing just to make him feel good, to satiate his needs. 

you shake your head. 

“anyways, it went on like that for the rest of the year. almost all of the memories from that year are colored dark – because he either did something bad or was mad at me. my eighteenth birthday, my graduation. and around july, i…i had found something bad.” 

sukuna tilts his head to the side.

“i was curious one day, so…so i decided to look my dad up. it had been years since he had gone but i just wanted to see. and i found a yelp review for his company and just searched that woman’s name up who left it.” 

“sukuna…my dad had been cheating on my mom. for a really long time. there were pictures and…vacations and all this stuff while my mom was like…taking loans from your mom just to buy us clothes and–” 

sukuna’s perceptive. and you’re endlessly thankful about it in this moment, just because you don't have to say it.

“he cheated on you, didn’t he? just like your dad did on your mom?” sukuna whispers.

“yeah. i had asked him not to, begged him even, and i-i found out the same way. when he left for college, he’d been so distant that i had started stalking all his followers, just to see what he was up to. and he was…commenting pick up lines on this girl's account.” 

you tuck your head into his neck. 

“when he came back for break, he told me that he was confused but…but we still did stuff. he broke up with me two days after that.” 

sukuna brings his hands up around your waist, pulling you up till you’re straddling him and secured in his lap. you’re stifling your sobs into his neck, his hands warm on your back as he leans his head against yours. 

“our anniversary was on december first. i had sent him a gift, this custom made expensive necklace he wanted, and…and two days after the fact i found out that while i was ordering that online, paying same day shipping, he was on a date with her.” you state. 

sukuna sighs, pulling you in closer. 

“he sent me pictures of their date. because we were still friends. he’d tell me how i was going to be important to him forever, and…tell me all about her. how perfect her family was, how smart she was…that she even matched his sex drive more and–” 

you sigh. 

“we talked on and off for that year. whenever he came home for break, we’d basically talk all the time – but i figured out later that it was only because of the time difference and that his girlfriend was asleep. and the time that we did spend talking, it was him talking about how he felt like such a dick for how he treated me. and every time, i’d-i’d reassure him that it was okay, that i didn’t mind it.” 

“still using you to make himself feel good, huh?” 

“yeah. isn’t that….so fucking stupid?” 

sukuna sighs. 

“that’s very cruel, y/n.” 

you pull back, the full depth of the word hitting you as you look at his eyes, brown and washed over in hurt. not pity – because you had seen that droop hundreds of times, but…in recognition. you reach forward, cupping his face. 

“very cruel.” you whisper back. 

“that’s heartbreaking. you’re a very earnest person and for someone to take advantage of this –” 

sukuna reaches forward, pointing at your chest, before he crosses on it again – like the promise he made earlier – and continues talking. 

“– of your beautiful heart is brutal, y/n. of course, you felt the way you did about it. anyone would.” 

you nod, reaching forward to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“i hope you know i’ll spend a lifetime trying to mend this with you, whatever that looks like.” sukuna whispers. 

“sukuna–” you whisper. 

“i’ve always seen you as what you are – a girl. in fact, the only girl for me.” 

it’s almost painful. that sukuna’s repeating every word back to you, but the other way. in the way you had wanted when you were seventeen, when you were so desperate to love someone. 

“you’re the only person that i’ve ever considered, for something this serious. i know i’ve dated other girls and slept around but…i’ve never felt this way about anyone.” 

sukuna reaches forward, taking your hand into his and placing it flat against his chest, over his beating heart. 

“s’yours. all yours, for as long as you want it.” 

you cross on his heart, which has him breaking out into a smile. 

“there’s my pretty girl…come here, yeah?” he whispers, gesturing for you to scoot closer, till you’re faces are only a few feet apart. 

and the way he scans his eyes over your face makes your chest hurt – with such attentiveness, with such adoration as he continues murmuring his sweet nothings. 

“i’ve always loved your style. i think you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen – i love when you frown at me and pretend to be mad and when you sleep with your mouth open.” 

you roll your eyes, sparing him a teary laugh. 

“i do not.” 

“yes, you do. but anyways–” 

“no i don’t!” 

“baby, i’ve watched you sleep. your mouth is wide open, like you’re going to catch flies.” 

“okay, edward cullen. why are you watching me sleep?” 

sukuna smiles. 

“you look at peace. i love it.” 

you shake your head, as he continues. 

“you…you drive me crazy.” 

he drops his hands down your back, the touch making you shiver. 

“but you’re going to call the shots. we’re...we’re going to do what you like. when you’re ready for it and –” 

“i meant what i said earlier. i’m ready.” you state.

“i’d wait years if you needed me to.” 

you smile. 

“i know. but i want you too. and– you…you’re everything to me.” 

sukuna smiles back. 

“never want you to put your own needs to the side for me, ‘kay? i’d never expect you to do that. you don’t need to sit in sweltering cars or…or get up from bed for me. i’ll always be there after – washing your hair and tucking you into bed and –” 

you lean forward, cupping his face, as you press a kiss to his lips. it’s warm and sweet, mixed with a mess of your tears – and him murmuring against your lips. 

“angel–” he whispers.

“what?” you murmur back, whispering onto his lips.

“i’ll write you hundreds of letters. i’ll buy you nice gifts on our anniversary and it’ll be just you and me. make you a playlist with all my favorite songs, listen to all of yours. i'll even get a shitty cat if you want one that bad.” 

you pull back, shifting your gaze from his left eye to the right and then back to the left. it’s the jump again – the same one you made last time. 

when you promise someone your heart, when you begin to cross your heart on someone else’s. 

"cat? really?"

sukuna glares.

"of course that's what you fixate on."

you smile.

“do you really mean it?” 

sukuna reaches forward, crossing on your chest. you return the gesture. 

“always. you’re everything to me.” 

you poke at his dimples. you’ll leap – for him. 

“does this change things?” you ask.

sukuna pulls you closer. 

“it helps me understand you better. makes me love you more, because you’re the strongest person i know. has me filled with pride because you won’t let bad things, or experiences, change how good your heart is.” 

you lean forward, cupping his face in your hands. 

“don’t flatter me. you’re going to make it impossible for me to leave, ryomen.” 

you can see it – the glint in his eyes when you use his given name. and the ear splitting smile that follows makes you ache as he leans forward and closes the gap. 

“that sounds like the perfect scenario to me.” 

--

the following morning, sukuna leaves early for work. but you find a perfectly plated breakfast and a letter sitting on the counter. 

seven pages worth of sukuna and his sweet words – and an embarrassingly cute story about the camping trip you took years ago. 

(you ask satoru to corroborate the story after. and he spells it out in full detail, about how in his drunkenness, sukuna told the group of them about your night together in the camping bag.)

--

next part linked here

an: anyways. lore. no one look at me - and big fluff chapter after this one, trust.

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[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Sometimes I think I’m not that weird and then I spend a solid amount of time wondering what kind of contraceptives are available in the Grishaverse and specifically how accessible they are in the Barrel, particularly based on the quote “Getting pregnant isn’t actually a special talent. Ask any luckless girl in the Barrel”. Is unwanted pregnancy more common in the Barrel than elsewhere in Ketterdam because of the lack of social services in the city and especially in its poorest areas? is it because teen pregnancies often lead to kids being kicked out so they end up in the Barrel? is there a higher statistic by product of the pleasure houses and especially if there aren’t safe contraceptives readily available in the pleasure houses? and if so what do the people running the pleasure houses do to the girls because of it? is it because unexpected pregnancies in higher social classes would just lead to rushed marriages so it’s more noticeable in the Barrel? or is the comment based solely on Kaz’s individual experience of the city, ie its slums, in which case whilst it’s telling us about the Barrel it’s not making any particular comparison to the rest of the city? I kind of assume there must be some contraceptives available because the possibility of pregnancies in the pleasure houses is never discussed but I doubt they’re readily available and based on what we know about the resources and development in the worldbuilding and timeline may not be the most reliable, in which case what is happening to indentured girls who end up impregnated? Because, somehow, I just don’t think they’re safe. (Where could I have possibly gotten that idea?) So yeah, I am, in fact, that weird. But I really need to know the answer to this.