#especially when its any form of self harm

[torukmaktoskxawng]

Sleeping Beauty - Lo'ak & Neteyam

Part of the Sleeping Beauty Series (all stand-alone)

inspo

Pairing: Lo'ak/Fem!Avatar Reader, Neteyam/Fem!Avatar Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, minors dni, aged-up characters, somnophilia, mate bites, spitting, cussing, unprotected p in v (wrap it, skxawngs), orgasm denial, jacking off, praise, dirty talk, nipple play, squirting, edging, surprise threesome (but they're only into you, not each other), mentions of creampie, cumming on external places, after care, creative use of Na'vi words to avoid saying Y/n, etc.

A/n: Adult Lo'ak & Neteyam done by the one and only @ cinetrix 💕

It was a long day for the both of you, with Lo'ak coming back from a tedious hunt while you were out-- essentially running a bunch of errands for Max with a grocery list of plant samples he wanted you to go find. You hadn't had any time to stop and see Lo'ak as it was running late and Max needed help labeling and taking stock of said samples. Unable to properly fit in the lab in your avatar, you decide to lay her down for the night in your marui and break the connection, opening your eyes to find yourself in your human form, lying on your back in a soft-glowing link bay.  

You eagerly got to work on the samples alongside Max, hoping to get it all done before the day got too late. Day quickly turned to night and you heard the Omatikaya going about their evening outside the lab, preparing and then partaking in their communal feast. It disheartened you to know that you already missed dinner with Lo'ak, knowing that by the time you were finally done with your work, he'd likely be so tired and cuddling your unconscious avatar form. Normally, you don't sleep in your avatar, no matter how much Lo'ak begs you. It's easier to refuse him when he's away from the clan and you have the marui to yourself, but other times, well, he's very persuasive. But Max and even Norm have warned you time and time again that you shouldn't make that a habit and it's required of you to return to your human body at night, or else it'll eventually be just a husk-- a shell of your former self. So far, you've been pretty stern with Lo'ak about this and only gave into him a few very rare times, which usually start with him wanting to take you somewhere private at night so the two of you could be alone. Usually, that then leads to several rounds of orgasms that make you too tired, and oh no, suddenly you can't break your link and you're forced to sleep soundly on Lo'ak's chest. What a shame.

Sleeping beside him, especially in your avatar, is like a reward of its own, and it's so comforting. Sleeping beside him as a human is nice, sure, but with your avatar, you don't have glass obstructing your view or any kisses Lo'ak might want to sneak you. Tonight, after not seeing him all day, was something you really needed.

As much as you knew that linking for long periods of time could be harmful to your human body, you really wanted to be able to sleep alongside your mate tonight. So, with quick feet, you return to your link bay and lie down, barely letting the lid close over you before closing your eyes and forcing your mind to relax. The link connected successfully, and you were whisked away to your avatar, led by a light at the end of that familiar tunnel. 

Waking up was slow, your avatar's eyes too heavy to open just yet, but a different sensation you were unfamiliar with waking up was happening between your legs. A brutal force that was slowly going faster, shoving its way into your gummy, and surprisingly wet pussy, feeling your thighs sticky with clear liquid. Your ears finally hear through the thick fog of your mind, catching the sounds of grunts, in sync with the loud sound of skin slapping together. One brutal push had your body moving up the mat an inch, and it felt as though it pierced the roof of your cervix, causing a quiet whimper to leave your lips. Now you are finally aware of a hot, growing coil, tightening at the bottom of your stomach, threatening to snap at any moment. There was no build-up or foreplay involved for you, just immediately waking to your orgasm ready to flood your entire system.

You gasp as the coil snaps and you leak around the thick cock shoving its way inside of you, some of your juices even splashing on both yours and the abdomen nestled between your legs every time they thrust in and out, prolonging your climax and making your thighs shake around what you assumed was hips. Still bullying their way into your body even as your orgasm finally cools down, you're more aware of how hard and twitchy the cock inside you felt, hitting your sweet spot each time and punching a gasp from your lungs with each thrust.

Finally opening your eyes, you look around and find your mate sitting off to the side, leaning against the foundation of your shared marui while his fist slowly runs up and down his hard, leaking dick, the tip tinged a dull purple color, indicating oversensitivity. Your lips are dry as you try to form words, "Lo... Lo'ak?"

"Hey, mamas," he grins wolfishly, his hand's pace on his cock remaining the same speed as he casually spoke to you, "I hope you don't mind, but I thought Neteyam could spend the night."

Between your orgasm and your sleepy mind, everything was still foggy, and it took a moment before you finally processed his words. Something clicked inside your head when you finally registered that Lo'ak wasn't the one who made you cum, sitting much too far away. Lo'ak wasn't the one currently shoving his way inside your body like he wanted to permanently blend your bodies together into one being. When you turn your head to look up at whoever is currently above you, rearranging your guts, you're met with none other than your mate's older brother. And despite the sweat and crease on his brow, Neteyam has a brash smile etched on his lips when your eyes meet.

"Kaltxì," he huffs out, the word rushed and followed by a rough grunt that escapes his mouth when his hips press flush against yours, your wet walls still occasionally pulsing around his cock in a welcoming embrace, making him dizzy with euphoria.

Your head was spiraling with so many questions, unable to voice them as Neteyam fucks you dumb, too cock drunk to form the words. Over the past year, you would periodically wake in your avatar form, sore and leaking with whatever mess Lo'ak left in between your legs, and when you eventually confront him about it, you both came to the agreement that he's more than welcome to use your avatar for whatever pleasure he has while you're not linked to it... just as long as he makes it up to you later on. You want a little bit of fun of your own, after all.

Lo'ak shuffles closer to you, his cock forgotten for the moment as he reaches you and plants quick and warm kisses all over your face before moving to whisper in your ear, "I wanted to show him all the... advantages of having a dreamwalker as my mate."

Even with Lo'ak's words currently distracting you, you couldn't ignore the way your body slowly began to grow warm and tight again, Neteyam angling his hips and hitting your sweet spot each time so that you were ready for another climax. You gasp at the sensation, reaching up to hang onto something, which ends up being the back of Lo'ak's neck.

Your mate grins before kissing your ear, "I'm so proud of you, mamas. You managed to take my cock before taking Neteyam's and waking up."

That explains why your body felt so sore and sticky, feeling more full than you would imagine with just Neteyam inside you. It felt as though you had run a marathon, but there were no physical signs of Lo'ak on your body until your free hand reached up and grazed his bite scar on your neck. There's a fresh bruise forming over the mate mark, confirming Lo'ak's lewd words.

Neteyam groaned and plunged deep and frantic into you when he watched the dawning realization cross your features. You make an identical sound, the thought of the older Sully brother currently fucking both his cock and Lo'ak's seed further into your womb sending you into a frenzy of soft moans, throwing your head back and arching up into Neteyam's thrusts.

"Great Mother," Neteyam hissed, "She just gripped me tighter."

"Aw, do you like that, baby?" Lo'ak purs into your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, making it twitch, "Do you like it when I use your holes while you're unconscious? Or do you like it when I invite someone over to use your body without your knowledge?"

You groan loudly as your answer, and the sound spurs Neteyam to reach down and lightly pinch your already abused clit to the same rhythm of his thrusts. Lo'ak moves one of his hands to fondle one of your exposed breasts, and you faintly note that you are completely naked, remembering you had fallen asleep wearing a worn-out RDA shirt meant for avatars. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that same shirt torn to pieces on the floor a few feet from your head.

Lo'ak pinches your nipple, watching it harden before moving to the other one to do the same thing. It leaves you moaning and writhing, practically impaling yourself on Neteyam's cock, your hips rising to meet his own thrusts, much to his delight. His tail unconsciously curls around your thigh, coiling tighter and tighter with each sound you make. Meanwhile, Lo'ak's tail had found your ankle and used it to keep you spread for his brother while he took one of your nipples in his mouth and the other in his hand, switching once or twice to lather both of your hardened buds in his saliva.

"Lo'ak, please..." you whine, feeling your body begin to tighten with anticipation. Neteyam felt light-headed with how hard you were gripping his length. He can barely even pull out you were so tight, holding his cock captive in your dark, wet cavern.

"What is it, mamas?" Lo'ak asks innocently, though one look at his grinning smile, and you know it was just a facade.

"N-Need to cum," you stammer.

"Hm," his yellow eyes twinkle with mischief, leaning down to mutter his reply into your lips, "That's not up to me, baby. Neteyam is taking your pleasure right now. Only he gets to decide if you cum again or not."

He takes advantage of your mouth opening in shock, spitting on your tongue, forcing you to inhale a soft gasp of surprise. His eyes dart back up to meet yours and you can't help the moan that escapes you at the heat you see in his gaze. Lo'ak leans down to kiss your lips in a dirty, sensual display of affection, exploring your mouth with his tongue while purring into your lips, your body proven affected by his actions as you unexpectedly slam your hips against Neteyam's.

The older brother's hand quickly grabs a hold of your waist to stop your movements, spewing out a song of Na'vi curses as he suddenly stops thrusting. He huffs and wheezes, any more movement from you would've led to him cumming too fast, let alone inside your pussy, which wasn't on his agenda, no matter how tempting it was. As pussy drunk as he was in this moment, he still had some sliver of respect for his brother and his wishes. Neteyam could fuck you as much as he wanted tonight, but he wasn't allowed to finish inside you.

"Stay still, yawne," Neteyam whispers breathlessly, trying to think of unpleasant things to keep himself from cumming. A small burst of confidence takes over as a smirk begins to play on his lips as his fingers slow down over your clit, "Or you won't get to cum at all."

He looks down at you, though it was hard to see your eyes with Lo'ak in the way, making out with you as your lips make vulgar sounds as they slide together, strings of saliva connecting you to your mate every time the need for air takes over. Neteyam forces himself to look away, the sight of your kiss-bitten lips, so swollen and wet, made his cock twitch inside of you.

Lo'ak gasps quietly for air before leaning down to kiss your cheek and whisper in your ear, "Go on, baby. I want you to. You can beg for my brother, it's okay... We used to share a lot of things growing up. This is hardly any different. So go ahead. Beg for Neteyam to let you cum. I don't mind."

You whimper as you feel Lo'ak's hot breath fan over the side of your neck, squeezing your eyes shut as your thighs clench around Neteyam's waist. With your mate's permission, you don't waste time opening your mouth and shamelessly begging, "Please, Neteyam. Please make me cum! Oh, fuck--"

The whine that escapes you will haunt you later with a less foggy head, but it's the only thing you could do in protest when you feel Neteyam completely slide out of your pussy, tip and all. He waits until you finally open your pretty eyes to look up at him, then he smiles.

"There you are. Keep your eyes on me, yawne, and I'll let you cum."

You nod obediently, parting your lips to moan as Neteyam gently smacks his tip over your clit and then easily slips between your wet folds. It's so hard to keep your eyes open when his cock slowly and painstakingly slides into you, shoving the tip deep inside until he's sure he's pressing against your sweet spot, then pulls out and repeats the same motion, as slowly as before.

Lo'ak moves out of your space and sits back on his feet, taking his aching cock back in hand and jerking off to the same motions Neteyam makes when entering your pussy, the younger Sully biting his lip when the motion only relieved a small bit of the torture he put himself through by trying to cum again after already doing so inside you. Lo'ak watches your face as you're brought back over the edge of ecstasy, eyelashes fluttering, cheeks flushing, and swollen mouth open agape. You keep your eyes on Neteyam, but you can see Lo'ak just in the corner of your peripheral and you know what he's doing. Without warning, you reach a hand out to wrap around Lo'ak's cock and his hips jolt as if he'd been shocked.

"Shit-!" Lo'ak gasped as you continued to pump his dick, up and down at the same pace as Neteyam's thrusts. Your mate moans loudly, thrusting into your hand to try and urge you to go faster, "That's it, baby... don't stop."

You obey, even going a little faster and smiling between moans when Lo'ak starts to whimper, just the way you like him, knowing he was close. His whimpers are quickly forgotten, even if only for a moment, when Neteyam starts to thrust harder, forcing your eyes to roll back as you feel your body burning up from the inside out, the coil unbearably tight as your toes curl.

Neteyam's hips stop, flush against yours as he growls, "Eyes."

Your gaze immediately snaps back to him, and he chuckles under his breath, "Good girl."

His fingers move side to side against your clit, then in circles. He repeats this pattern when he noticed the way your pussy clenches around his cock, a deep growl vibrating from the back of his throat at the sensation. He can't keep edging himself like this or else he'll really lose control and then he won't pull out, no matter how much he knows he has to. So, he decides not to torture you for long as he finally nods.

"Now, yawne. You can cum."

Lo'ak whines at the feel of your hand squeezing him a little tighter, his precum leaking down your knuckles, "That's it, baby, you heard him. Cum for us, mamas, that's it. Cum on Neteyam's cock. Show him what you can do."

A long series of moans and soft screams tumble from your mouth as you throw your head back and chase after your high. Slamming your hips down on Neteyam's cock and using him, you make sure he hits your sweet spot every time before your coil snaps and your liquid spews everywhere, your whole body twitching as your juices leak out from around Neteyam's cock and splashes over his abs and bioluminescent freckles, slowly dripping down his delicious blue skin.

You're still cumming when Lo'ak follows suit, gently batting your hand away so he could take his cock in hand and finish over your tits, moaning and whimpering unapologetically as his cum splatters over your chest, pearly white droplets sliding over your nipples and down the curves of your breasts. Lo'ak gasps and groans at the sight, so whiny and desperate, continuously fisting his cock and painfully holding the tip so he squeezes out every last drop onto your tits.

Neteyam's less vocal than his brother, but you still manage to catch his climax as well, feeling not one but two different spurts of cum on your body, mixed with Lo'ak's loud whines and a soft growl you were less familiar with. As you're coming down from your high, you peer down between your legs to see Neteyam gripping tightly onto his cock, slowly softening beneath his fingertips as long strings of his seed dance and paint over your stomach, collecting in your belly button. Looking up, Neteyam's face is an absolute wreck, flushed in a darker shade of color, the color of his eyes now reverting to small, tiny rings, shrouded with lust. He's clenching his teeth, keeping himself quiet, much to your disappointment, but you don't complain since he has yet to stop circling your clit, drawing out the last of your orgasm until it becomes too sensitive. Once you whine in discomfort, he immediately stops his movements. 

The marui is filled with huffing and panting, all three of you clawing for air as your bodies cool down, turning into jello and unable to properly form words yet. You have to lick your lips as they've dried, but Lo'ak takes it a step further and kisses you, slowly, passionately, and less desperate. While kissing Lo'ak you feel Neteyam's hands in the crook of your knees, untangling them from around his waist and setting them on the floor while his body heat vanishes from your skin. You're about to whine into Lo'ak's mouth in protest when a warm, wet cloth meets your raw and fluttering pussy, gently cleaning you of any fluids before moving onto your stomach and breasts. You don't miss the way Neteyam kisses both of your knees as he works at cleaning you up, making your tail bat gently against the ground. Lo'ak softly groans into your lips before pulling away, his smile lopsided and boyish before he kisses your nose.

"You did so good for us, mamas. You've never woken up when I'm in the middle of fucking you before. Neteyam must feel awfully lucky."

Both you and Neteyam hum in response, but otherwise say nothing as your lust gives way to exhaustion. Lo'ak lays down beside you and wraps you in his arms, pressing your back against his front and kissing the base of your kuru, smiling to himself when your tail gently slaps his hip. Neteyam sighs and lays down on the other side of you, the two of you facing each other but at a more respectable distance, even though you both wish for him to move closer. You settle by holding his hand in yours while relaxing into Lo'ak's embrace, smiling to yourself over what just happened as you close your eyes to sleep.

While it's true that you've never connected to your avatar when Lo'ak was in the middle of using you, after tonight, you definitely need to be able to time this better for next time. 

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @inolaphoenix @neteyamsoare @mooniequeen @avatar-lover @taronyuhunter @neteyamsyawntu @neteyamsl0ver @ikeyniofthetayrangi @neteyamssyulang

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

a/n: another request! wasn’t sure if i should tag this as 18+ since it doesn’t contain any smut, but i’d advise you read this with caution. contains a few sensitive topics (see warnings below)

summary: based on the song by justin bieber

warnings: blood, trauma, situational alcohol abuse, forms of self-harm

word count: 6.6k

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

A smell of alcohol and something metallic lingers in the air, sharp and unescapable.

It's pitch black in the living room of your apartment. A whiskey tumbler sits on the coffee table, bloodied bandages and cotton balls scattered around it. The whiskey bottle is open, half empty, and the cap is nowhere to be found.

The suit on the floor is torn and soaked with blood. Combat boots, dirty and wet, have toppled over next to it.

Natasha's on the couch, holding an ice pack to her head. Only dressed in boxers and a sports bra now, every scar and bruise is on full display. Her eyes are closed, her hand clenching and flexing on her thigh. Nails rake over skin, draw blood, but she doesn't register it through the haze in her head.

The mission didn't go as planned. In the beginning, everything seemed fine — they made it to the location, disarmed a few guards, managed to get into the building. Her assignment was to go and free a few hostages, which she managed quite well, considering she had to fight two guards in the process.

She doesn't remember much else. Just a cell that they somehow got her into. Rusty metal and leaky pipes on the ceiling, blood on the walls.

Pressure around her wrists, her throat. It was brief, but it left its mark. Memories resurfaced — memories that never fully sank to the bottom of her mind's ocean. It felt like grappling with the ghosts of her past, being pulled underwater, drowning, fighting for her life. She could feel the water in her lungs and the blood thrumming in her ears. Salt burned her nose.

Her limbs grew heavy from the kicking and wrestling. She wanted to let go, surrender to the heavy weight of the water, but she couldn't allow herself to. Survival is something that the Red Room ingrained into her.

If there's one thing she can't do, it's die.

Death means giving up.

Four hours later, Natasha still feels like, sometimes, death may be the better option. With the way her head is pounding and her scars are burning, anything to get rid of the pain is welcome. It's why her eyes tracked the liquor shelf first when she got home.

You enter the living room not too long after. Keeping your eyes on her, you turn on the small light before blindly closing the door and locking it.

What you're seeing is not entirely unfamiliar, but it always manages to leave you startled and speechless for at least a minute or two.

"Nat?", you say quietly. No response. "Nat, love."

She opens her eyes. They look empty when they meet yours.

Not a word. Again.

You step closer and bend over to pick up her suit. You fold it, tentatively, unsure how to act. How to make this better, fix it, help her.

You can't. You've tried to before, but it keeps happening.

You sit down and put the folded suit aside. Natasha turns her head away, blank eyes fixed on the ceiling. Whatever happened earlier sucked the life out of her, leaving her completely exhausted. She doesn't want to talk, which you understand — but it feels important to you, anyway.

"Love", you say, touching her hand. She's been carving deep lines into her thigh for a while now, leaving her skin raw and burning. Dark blood is stuck under her fingernails. "Talk to me."

"Get out."

"Nat-"

"I said get out."

You stare at her, eyebrows furrowed in silent concern. You can't tell whether she needs space or support, and that frustrates you.

Shouldn't you be able to read her like an open book by now? Shouldn't you know exactly what she needs, exactly when she needs it? It's been years, after all. You've been talking about marriage, for god's sake.

However, that's not how relationships work, and it's especially not how a relationship with Natasha works. Either you accept that you'll never be fully let in, or you'll be fighting worries and insecurities your entire life.

"Hey", you say firmly, peeling her hand off her thigh. "No. We're not doing this. Not tonight."

She struggles against your grasp, but then her arm slackens. Her eyes close, frustration simmering beneath the surface. Frustration and alcohol — not a good mix.

"Fuck you", she spits. She's slurring, so you know better than to take this personally. It's anger, pain, self-loathing, exhaustion, but it's not directed at you. It never is.

You glance at the whiskey bottle on the coffee table and chew on your lip. It was full just hours ago, when you left for your shift. Now, it's nearly gone.

"Hold still", you mumble, reaching for the pack of cotton balls she discarded on the floor. You soak it in an antiseptic solution and start dabbing the deep scratches on her thigh.

"Stings."

You almost wince at how resigned she sounds, but you keep rubbing off blood and cleaning the self-inflicted wounds.

"I'm not going to ask what happened", you say, speaking carefully. You're treading on dangerous territory. One wrong word could make her snap right back into that same state of mind that got her like this. "I just need you to take a few breaths, okay? Nice and deep, love."

She shakes her head. You put your free hand on her knee.

"Please", you add. She squeezes her eyes shut and, with a movement too quick for you to see coming, pulls away. She gets up from the couch, but you catch her wrist. Her head whips around, anger and desperation raging behind those vacant eyes.

"Don't touch me!"

"Nat-"

"You have no idea", she hisses, "what this feels like. So leave me alone."

You stare at her as she tugs herself free from your light grip. Down the hallway and into your bedroom, you hear the door slam shut. It's rapid and loud, so much so that you're sure she just woke your neighbors.

It takes you a moment to collect yourself. Running your hand down your face, you exhale, then get up and start tidying the mess Natasha left behind.

You make sure to hide the whiskey bottle. The rest of the alcohol too, while you're at it.

. . .

The morning after, Natasha remembers bits. Pieces, fragments of what really happened.

She recalls blood. And yelling. Alcohol, way too much of it. You, in the middle of it all.

Guilt, heavy and hot, sits in her abdomen. No way to make it disappear.

She rolls over and finds you asleep. Sunlight filters in through the curtains, soft and golden, but it's not what she focuses on. She doesn't focus on the tired expression on your unconscious face, either. Instead, something else catches her attention.

Something dark red and dried sticks to your wrist, right where the skin is folded due to the angled position your hand is resting in. She reaches over and brushes it away. Blood. Her blood.

"Y/N?", she mumbles, voice raspy with sleep and exhaustion. "Baby. You awake?"

A sleepy sigh. When your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly, she pulls away. Definitely asleep.

Natasha sits up and immediately regrets it. She forgot about the mission yesterday, but her body didn't. Bruises and scars ache, a dull throbbing pain that spreads through her limbs. She remains in an unmoving position for a few seconds to let the pain fade, then she scoots out of bed.

The mirror in the bathroom confirms it. From head to toe, she's littered in visual evidence of yesterday's events. She didn't shower, either, so she's still full of dried blood and dirt.

She splashes her face with cold water. When she looks up, she finally sees herself clearly.

Red-rimmed eyes, puffy and tired, and a face that doesn't look like her own.

She steps away from the mirror and takes her hair out of the messy bun that's almost come loose. Water runs, steam fills the bathroom. She enters the shower and pulls the shower curtain fully closed. There are ways to let you know she wants you to join, and there are ways she lets you know the opposite.

You woke up minutes after she got out of bed. Once you heard the shower run, you were able to relax. She's at home, with you, safe and sound. If she's showering, it means she at least felt well enough to get out of bed.

You get up, put on a hoodie over your pajamas and make your way into the kitchen. As soon as you've poured some oats into a pot of milk, you hear footsteps. For a moment, you're not sure whether you should acknowledge her presence in any way — turn around, say good morning, maybe ask if she's hungry. But then you feel a pair of arms around your waist, strong and safe and hesitant, and a weight drops from your shoulders.

Natasha doesn't say anything. Neither do you.

But you aren't pushing her away, so she kisses your cheek. Her hand rubs your stomach before she makes the space between you bigger again.

You wait for an apology, some kind of confirmation she remembers anything from last night, but nothing comes. It wouldn't surprise you if she really doesn't remember — she had alcohol, lots of it, and intoxication has made her forget things before.

You drum your fingers against the counter, staring at the pot next to you, before you finally break the silence.

"About last night..."

Her shoulders tense up.

"Yeah", she says bitterly. "I drank too much."

"I'm aware", you say slowly, stirring the oatmeal and turning off the stove. What else are you supposed to say? That she should stop? God knows she's tried. God also knows it isn't easy. When everything becomes too much, even focusing on one single thing can become the hardest obstacle to overcome.

And when it comes to alcohol, it's pretty much impossible.

What might be the most confusing thing, though, is that this isn't a constant. It's not full-on alcoholism. She doesn't need it to function. But when everything becomes too much, it's what she turns to as a coping mechanism. It's dangerous and reckless and you feel like you're out of solutions.

"I put the whiskey away", you say, turning around. Her face is stoic as you lock eyes. "The rest of it, too. Don't even try to look for it. You won't find it."

"You're aware I'm a spy, right?", she says. Your lips twitch into a humorless smile. You know what she means — not that she's going to intentionally defy you using her skillset, but rather that her brain, no matter what kind of state it is in, will use said skills anyway. "You'll marry me. If you don't know about my past, then-"

"Alright", you cut her off. "Yes, I know. I'm aware. I tried my best, so let's just hope it'll be enough."

"It never is."

"Nat."

"I mean it. They have a bar at the compound, too."

"Well", you say, fidgeting, "I told Tony to put everything away."

Her eyebrows furrow. Before she can voice the feeling of betrayal you're seeing in her eyes, you lift your hand and stop her.

"I told him I'm trying to go sober."

Natasha goes silent. She stares at you, chewing her lip, then gets up and walks up to you. You know she isn't sure whether she's allowed to touch you (which, to you, is ridiculous), so you cup her face and kiss her and pull her into a hug. One hand on her nape and the other on her back, you hold her close.

"Just promise me one thing?"

She hums, her nose brushing against your neck. "Yeah?"

"No drinking alone. Please. I need to know you're safe."

Some promises she can't keep.

. . .

You get the call at 3am.

Natasha had been on a mission — one that was supposed to last at least another day, but apparently ended early. You had no idea.

Sleepy and worried, you scramble out of bed. Your phone is tucked between your ear and your shoulder as you hop through the apartment, one leg in your jeans and the other foot trying to find the hole. On the other end of the line is the owner of a bar in Queens.

You're not awake enough to fully understand everything. All you hear is something about a fight, shattered glass, blood. Not bad enough for a trip in the ambulance, thankfully, but the damage is done.

You sit in the car, buckle up, and break down. Tears flow, the frustration making them hot as they run down your cheeks. Your vision blurs, so you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. A car crash is the last thing you need right now.

The streets are as dark and empty as they can be, considering you're in New York. But most people are asleep, in their beds, not worried to death yet another time. Most people don't have to actively keep themselves from causing a car crash. When you realize you feel something akin to envy, you slam your foot on the gas pedal and tear off down the street.

You find the bar easily, mostly because a small group of people has gathered in front of it. Natasha's on the sidewalk, holding a napkin to her nose, her eyes drooping shut. You see her bleeding knuckles and the tears get heavier.

By the time you're out of the car, a man is approaching you. You barely pay him any mind, already looking at Natasha — but she's so out of it she doesn't even realize you've arrived.

"Wait", the guy says when you try to walk past him, "you're the lady I called?"

"Yeah", you say, glancing at Natasha every so often. "Her fiancée. Girlfriend, actually. What..."

He sighs and runs a hand over his thinning hair. "Had a little too much to drink. There was an argument with another customer. It, uh, escalated. Broke one of my mirrors, you know. The other guy's at the hospital."

"He's what?"

"She slammed him into the mirror face first. Chap broke his nose."

You stare at him with wide eyes. He shakes his head and lightly taps your upper arm, leading you in Natasha's direction.

"No idea if he'll sue", the man says. "He did provoke that fight. But you'll have to pay for my mirror, though."

"Sure", you say vacantly. Natasha doesn't look up when you reach her side. You crouch next to her and brush your fingers over the back of her hand. Her hand jerks the slightest bit, but she doesn't look at you. "Come on, love. Let's get you home. Can you walk?"

"She walked just fine earlier", some other guy pipes up.

You glare daggers at him before resting your hand on her shoulder. It's cold, too cold, and you notice her jacket is missing. You squeeze it, hoping it'll be enough to coax her into getting up — or, at the very least, looking at you —, but no. She stays unmoving, silent, eyes shut and the lower half of her face covered with a napkin.

She reeks of blood and alcohol. You get up and look at the guy who owns the bar. He raises his eyebrows, tatted arms crossed over his chest.

"Her jacket", you say. "Where's her jacket? It's cold out."

"Forget about it, Y/N."

You glance at her, taken aback. "Nat. Why didn't you-"

"Forget about it", she mumbles, slurring again. God, you're tired of this. "Go home."

Your glance turns into a stare. There's no way she's asking you to leave. She looks like she's moments away from passing out.

"Are you kidding?"

"No. Gome. I mean, go- go home."

"You can't be serious. You can barely talk!"

You see her shiver and decide you officially have had enough. It takes some effort, but you manage to pull her off the ground and make her sit in the car. After giving the bar owner a check for the mirror she broke, you drive home.

. . .

Natasha gasps and coughs out water. You splash her with more, and more, until you feel like she's sober enough to think somewhat straight.

"Fuck", she curses, water flowing down her face and her hair sticking to her head. "Y/N!"

"Feeling better?"

"I feel cold!"

You give her a skeptical look and splash another handful of water into her face. She's sitting in the shower, only in underwear to keep her clothes from getting wet. She shakes her head and pushes away the shower head you're holding.

"It helps", you insist. She shoots a desperate look your way and you sigh. "You okay?"

"I need clothes", she mumbles, wiping water away from her eyes. "And a blanket."

"I know", you say, grabbing her hand and helping her up. She's still wobbly on her feet, so you have to make sure she doesn't slip. "Come on."

Some fresh clothes and a quick session with the blowdryer later, she's on the couch. A blanket is draped over her shoulders. Now that she's back to reality, all the memories of what happened in the bar come rushing back.

It was stupid. A stupid comment from a guy drinking beer. A comment about her.

Natasha isn't considered a violent person, despite her being an Avenger or her past as an assassin. She lashed out, anyway. It makes you wonder what the hell was said to her.

She rubs her face. You sit down next to her.

"Go to bed", she says weakly. "It's late."

"And you?", you probe.

"I'm staying here."

"Alone. On the couch."

"Yes."

You shake your head. No matter what, you don't want her to have to be alone. Not even after what happened tonight — especially not after that. But she's tired, and stubborn, and she's hurt you enough tonight. She can't get that look on your face out of her head, when you were kneeling next to her on the sidewalk. How wet your cheeks were from tears and how they glistened in the light of the street lamps.

Yet you're still here, at not even 5 in the morning, still trying to make her feel better. At this point, she should try to make you feel better. Part of her is scared that she'll never be able to do that.

Natasha wants you to stay. It's the only thing that brings her peace. But she can't ruin your peace by asking you to help with hers.

"Go to bed", she repeats. "Sleep."

"No", you say, frowning. "No, absolutely not. You're not leaving my side tonight, and that's final."

She stares at you, jaw clenching. "And why the hell not?", she asks, her voice carrying bitterness and exhaustion. You raise your eyebrows in mild surprise, but remain undeterred. "Don't trust me with myself anymore?"

"Of course I do! But it's clear you weren't doing well, and-"

"And that's why I need a babysitter?!" She laughs, but there's no humor to it. Covering her face with her hands, she slumps into the couch. "God, you must be so sick of me."

There it is. That little piece of vulnerability she doesn't show, that one fear she keeps hidden like a dirty secret. Your shoulders slump and you sigh, touching her knuckles. Raw and busted open, blood still leaking from some parts of her skin.

She doesn't react. You scoot and sit on her lap, facing her, and grab her wrists. You pull her hands down, revealing the face you fell in love with, the one you still love. No matter how many issues there may be — you love her. If you have to, you'll keep driving to bars in the middle of the night for the rest of your life. You'll bandage knuckles and wipe blood away. All you need is for her to stay.

"Hey", you mumble. She shakes her head. You lean in and kiss her forehead. "Nat, please. I'm not sick of you."

No reply. You let go of her wrists to cup her face, pressing your lips to every feature, every tiny scar. She lets out a sob-like sound, but you see no tears. Your lips move from her forehead to her closed eyelid, from her cheek to the corner of her mouth.

"We'll get through this", you say, rubbing her cheeks. "You will get through this."

"It's not getting better. Y/N, it never gets better."

"That's not true", you say firmly. "It does get better. It will. Stuff like this takes time."

She looks up, tired and guilty and full of self-loathing. She'll never understand why you're in her lap instead of trying to save yourself from the bullshit she's putting you through.

"It's been years."

"It'll probably take a few more, too", you say, brushing your thumb along her lower lip. "But that's okay."

A small pause. Natasha studies you, her chest tightening with both panic and realization.

She's dragging you down with her. If she doesn't put a stop to it now, it'll only get worse for you.

"And you?", she says, challenging you. "What about you? Am I supposed to sit here and watch you go down with me?"

"What?" You shake your head. Everything inside of you is begging for your sudden suspicions to not be true. But she's saying something, and you think you know what it is. "Nat, don't. Seriously."

"Don't what? Are you really that blind?"

"I know what you're doing", you say, trying to sound calm. But you're panicking, just like she is, and it's getting hard not to hyperventilate. You're tired, sleep-deprived even, and all you want is to get her to bed and cuddle. Feel her next to you, know she's safe — at least for the time being. "It's not going to work. I'm going to bed now, and you're coming with. We'll talk in the morning."

"No." She shakes her head. "No. You'll call your parents, Y/N, and you'll get out of here. Do you know how much this shit hurts? Seeing you suffer because of me?"

You frown, searching for the right words. The words that'll make her calm down. You're not sure they exist.

"Do you know how much it hurts?", you retort. Her hands grab yours, try to gently pry them off her face, but you're relentless. "Stop!"

"You don't get it, do you? Get out of the fucking apartment!"

The more she tries to push you away, the firmer your grasp becomes. She wrestles with you, and although she may still be gentle enough with it to not hurt you, it's not that same, playful thing it used to be. She's serious about this.

"Nat!" You let out a sob and struggle, but somehow manage to pin her down. Let's not be fooled — you're still not nearly as strong as she is. But given how exhausted she is, and how the alcohol is still numbing her, you have somewhat of an upper hand. "Stop that!"

Her body goes limp beneath you, all fight draining out of her within a split second. The look on her face is defeated, so much so you almost feel bad about forcing her down like this.

"Don't be stubborn", you plead. "Not about this."

Natasha closes her eyes, forcing the tears away. Sometimes, she wishes giving up was an option for her. But it isn't, not right now, and if it were, she still wouldn't be able to do it to you.

"I'm so tired."

"I know", you mumble, all choked up, and brush some hair out of her face. "I know, baby."

"I'll lose you one way or another", she says, voice cracking mid-sentence. "I'd rather it's on my terms."

You shake your head, your grip on her wrist loosening. You bring both hands to her face and cup it. "That's the silliest thing I've ever heard you say, you know. And you say a lot of dumb stuff, love."

She laughs, but it's not that sweet sound that usually makes you melt. In a moment like this, you don't expect it to be, though.

The silence lingers. She looks up at you, tired but loving, and her hands cover yours. "You should've left me there, you know. On the curb. You don't sleep enough as it is, and you still got up to get my drunk ass home."

"For good reason", you reply, taking her hand to bring it to your mouth and kiss her bandaged knuckles. "It's not the same without you. Nothing is. Now let's go and catch up on some sleep together, yeah?"

She hesitates. "Look, I..."

"I'm serious. I'm not calling my parents, I'm not leaving. I'm staying right here, even if that means you'll keep bitching."

Natasha tilts her head. A flash of something familiar flickers across her features. It makes your heart ache.

Sometimes, you miss the before. It's not fully gone, but grasping it can be difficult. Like catching a greasy little fish in water, it keeps slipping away.

"Bitching", she echoes. A tentative smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "I love you, you know."

. . .

"I'm not sure I want to go."

You look at her, arms crossed and head tilted, a little frown on your face.

Over a year has passed since that incident at the bar. Things haven't fixed themselves magically, of course not. But it's been going uphill almost constantly, apart from a few stumbles and breaks. Which is okay — everyone needs a breather every now and then. The important part is that it hasn't gotten worse.

Something else has changed. You're wearing matching engagement rings now. You're getting married in a few weeks. You've picked out your dress, and a nice venue, and made sure the flowers match the place cards. You've moved into a new apartment, too, one that's in a calmer area of Manhattan.

Your upcoming wedding is currently the most exciting thing in your life. Which is the reason why tonight is Natasha's bachelorette party. It was Tony's idea, and although she had her doubts, you were thrilled. It's been months since she went out on her own.

"You'll have fun", you say, stepping closer to smooth out the front of her shirt. "Stark planned it. There's no way you'll get bored."

"I'm not sure you know me as well as you think", she mumbles, smiling faintly. She studies you. "It's Atlantic City. I don't want to drink too much."

You pause. But then you shake your head and adjust her jacket. "Don't worry about that. Clint will be there. Sam, Steve. You'll feel like you got trapped in a retirement home. Also, you'll get about a hundred phone calls from me if I even sense that you're being an idiot."

She exhales through her nose, lips twitching. "So a couple bodyguards, and a parole officer. I see."

"Exactly." Your hands run back down to her chest. Her heartbeat feels steady beneath your palms. "Don't drink if you don't feel good about it. But circumstances are different, and you're not alone, and I'm just a phone call away."

"I know."

You cup her face and lean in, kissing her. Her hands hold onto your upper arms, trying to keep you close. You still pull away.

"I know you want to go", you say, convinced. Natasha gives you a deadpan look. "You're just scared."

"I'm not scared", she argues. "I just...don't want to mess up. I've made progress."

"Yeah", you mumble softly. She's right. Nobody's made as much progress as she has, at least that's what you believe. Her mind still goes to bad places, but her coping mechanisms have gotten healthier. There's no way you'll give the credit to yourself, but she feels like she wouldn't have made it this far without you. She doesn't tell you that to your face, but she has her ways in which she lets you know.

"You'll have fun", you say again. "It's, like, your last night of freedom. Enjoy it while it lasts, because girl, you'll be stuck."

"Oh no, the horrors", she mumbles, smiling. She pulls you closer by wrapping her arms around your waist. Her lips press against your forehead. "Stuck with you. However will I survive."

"You're joking about it now, but in a few weeks, you'll only be able to go out with me. You'll get sick so fast."

"I won't." Natasha raises her eyebrows and squeezes your waist. "Actually, why don't you join us today, too? I'm sure it'd be more fun."

"Absolutely not." You peck her lips and step back. You wave your hand to coax her out the door. She opens it and steps out, but stops on the doormat. "I'm serious! We agreed to have separate bachelorette parties."

She rolls her eyes. "You better pray you don't have to scrape me off some boardwalk tonight."

You sigh and furrow your eyebrows, arms crossed over the Looney Tunes shirt you wear to sleep. Natasha raises her hands.

"Don't look at me like that", she says, sounding both defensive and sheepish. "I'll be good."

"I don't need you to be 'good'", you say. "Come home to me after. That's all I ask."

Natasha softens. Before you can say anything, she's back inside the hallway, hands running over your body and lips pressed to yours. You want to protest — Clint has pulled up in front of the house — but then you melt into her.

She doesn't have to tell you she'll be back. From this very moment, she always will be.

. . .

When your phone buzzes at 5am, you nearly jump out of your own skin. You don't even glance at the screen before answering the call.

"Y/N?", you hear Natasha's voice, sleepy and probably a little drunk.

"Hey", you say, sitting up and blinking away remainders of sleep. "You okay?"

"I'm fine", she mumbles. Yes, definitely drunk, but not enough for her to be slurring her words. "Just missing you."

"Oh." You rub your eyes, smiling to yourself. "I miss you too. Having fun?"

"I got dragged to a strip club."

"I'll take that as a yes", you tease.

You hear bedsheets rustle, then a thump. A groan.

"Dropped my phone", she says, voice so muffled you can barely hear her. She picks it up from the floor and puts it back to her ear. "You want to come pick me up?"

"What, now?"

"Look, I loved seeing a dozen half-naked strangers and Steve throwing up during a lap dance, but I want to come home."

You go quiet, mulling it over. Truthfully, you're feeling a little like a mom that's being called to pick up her child early because it's too scared to sleep someplace else than home — but it's almost been a day since she left, and she sounds needier than usual, and you kind of want her back with you as well.

"You're still at that hotel you told me about?", you ask, already getting up to grab some clothes.

"Yes, we-" She pauses. You stop, trying to see if the phone call ended, but then her voice cuts through the unnerving silence. "I'm wearing a ring."

"Yes, baby, we're engaged."

"Oh. Okay, that's good. I thought, uhm..."

You bite back a laugh, wiggling into a pair of sweatpants. "Didn't marry a hooker, I hope?"

"What?! Don't be ridiculous."

"I was kidding. You'll wait in the lobby?"

"Fine", she says, letting out a yawn. "Hurry."

. . .

Despite the fact you agreed on picking her up in the lobby, Natasha's on the curb when you pull up. Her face seems to light up when she sees you, and she quickly grabs her duffel bag to approach the car. The door opens and she sinks into the passenger seat.

"Hey", you say, already starting the car. "Show me your ring. Just to be safe."

"Here." She holds out her left hand. The ring on her finger is definitely one you're familiar with, so you nod and give her hand a squeeze. She looks at you, head leaning against the headrest, and hums. "You're so beautiful, you know."

"And you're drunk", you reply, starting the car. Still, a tiny smile tugs at your lips.

Natasha shakes her head. She pulls your hand into her lap and holds it tight. She's not usually this openly clingy, but she's tipsy enough to turn into this touchy-feely mess you secretly adore.

"Beautiful", she repeats. "I'm gonna marry you. You wanna marry me?"

"We're engaged", you remind her. "Don't remember?"

"Of course I do." She lets out a scoff. "Just...checking. Making sure you didn't change your mind."

"Change my mind? What, and miss out on all the late night drives?" You shoot her a smile and feel her play with your fingers. "Seriously though, you had fun?"

"It wasn't bad", she admits, closing her eyes. "Bit boring."

"Boring, you say? Well, then you definitely didn't see one of those washed-up magicians", you say absently, taking a left turn. Natasha reaches out to poke your cheek — once, twice —, then you turn your head and lightly bite her fingertip.

She retracts her hand, looking offended.

"You started it", you quickly say. "With all that poking."

Natasha rolls her eyes and leans back.

"You're sensitive", she mumbles, wiping her finger on your sleeve. You bat her hand away. "Violent, too. Jesus."

"We'll be home soon", you say. You couldn't love Natasha more, but she's right at that point of being drunk where she's simply an idiot. Clingy, needy, and a little prone to biting. "Think you can make it about two hours without throwing up?"

She waves her hand dismissively, already curling up against the car door. Head against the window and breath fogging up the glass, she dozes off.

Getting her out of the car is proven to be more difficult than anticipated.

It turns out that getting into the car to be driven around and sleep is way more enjoyable than getting out of it again. Natasha sighs and protests, but eventually, you manage to pull her to her feet. She stumbles out and grips your shoulders, then smiles crookedly.

"Hey", she mumbles. "Wanna help me pick that up? 'Cause you made my jaw drop."

"Dear god."

"Didn't like that one? I got more."

"Absolutely not", you say, dragging her toward the door. She leans on you heavily, her head resting against yours. You eye the chunky brown mass clinging to the soles of her boots. "Shoes off. What the hell is that?"

"Refried beans", she mumbles, toeing off her boots and kicking them aside. "Clint dropped his Chipotle."

"And it was all beans...?"

Natasha shrugs and walks inside, flopping onto the couch face-first. You sigh and peel off your jacket, watching her for a moment. You expect her to get up again, maybe change into fresh clothes, but no — she seems asleep.

You feel bad about waking her, but you do it anyway.

"Ass off the couch", you hum, patting her backside. A muffled groan comes from the cushion. "Let's go."

"Tired."

"The couch isn't big enough for both of us", you argue, giving her a firm pinch just below the buttcheek. "Come on, bed."

"Stop nagging me", she mumbles, but sits up. You lead her away from the couch before she can change her mind.

Clothes off and pajamas on, comforters pulled aside. Natasha collapses again, one leg angled and the other stretched out. She sighs and burrows her face right in between the two pillows on your bed.

"Drank too much", she mutters. You hum, studying her with your eyebrows slightly furrowed. "Head hurts."

"Get some sleep."

"C'mere."

"In a minute", you promise, taking off your hoodie. "You know, I actually got a little scared when you called. I thought god knows what happened."

She snorts into the pillows. "Gotta trust me more."

"I do trust you." You sit next to her, tugging her top back down where it had ridden up. "I got scared, anyway. You, a bunch of irresponsible people, Atlantic City — not the best mix."

Natasha rolls over and looks at you through sleep-hazy eyes. You smile and tap her nose. She shakes her head.

"This was your idea."

"And you had fun", you insist. She curls into you, her face pressed against your chest. "Right?"

"If I say yes, you'll shut up?"

You roll your eyes and kiss her forehead. She's warm, warmer than you, and tonight is no exception. You can feel her heat seep into you, but it's a nice feeling. You might end up overheating, but it's nice. Anything is nice when you know she's safe.

"You're comfy", Natasha mutters, fingers finding the hem of your shirt and twisting it.

"You're still drunk."

"And in love."

You run your hand down her back, a smile forming on your lips. Before you can say anything, she's fallen asleep.

. . .

The light pressure of lips against your temple wakes you up. Sunlight is filtering through the curtains, brightening up the room and warming your bed. You hum sleepily, but make no move to actually wake up.

Another kiss, more insistent this time. A glance at the clock tells you it's almost noon. You turn your head and see Natasha, half asleep and mildly hungover.

"Thank you", she mumbles, nose nuzzling your cheek.

"For what?"

"Picking me up. Loving me. All of it, I guess."

"Aw", you hum, pulling her closer. "Don't thank me for that. But thank me for not kicking you out of bed. My god, you're a furnace."

"You're being dramatic", she mutters, her tightening arms telling you she definitely doesn't care about you burning up.

"Seriously! I almost had to sleep in the fridge."

She looks up, hair mussed and eyes bleary, and you bite back a grin.

"'Til death do us part", she replies, pinching your side. "Or something like that."

Your body jerks, but there's a smile on your face. You wrap your arms around her neck and roll over, trapping her beneath your body. She grunts, limbs slackening.

"Working on your vows, I see?", you tease.

"Been working on them since the day I met you", she says, making it sound like she's teasing as well, but you know there's a hidden layer of truth to her words. You kiss her, deep and firm, then pull away. She gazes up at you, her expression giving nothing away.

Her eyes, however, say a lot.

"My personal angel", she adds, murmuring. "No idea where I'd be without you."

"Good god", you say and scrunch up your face. "You're getting soft."

"Okay, that's not-"

You grin, knowing you've got her. Calling Natasha out on her feelings doesn't end well for most, but you have the privilege of getting away with just about anything. You stuck with her through more than she’d ever expect anyone to — you get free passes for just about anything.

"You are soft!"

“Seriously, enough.”

A laugh and a quick kiss on the lips. She rolls over, getting on top again and pressing you down into the mattress. Her eyes study yours and the sun makes her red hair shine and oh, you’re suddenly convinced you’ve made it through everything you thought you wouldn’t survive.

Natasha still isn’t an open book, not even to you, but you feel like you get to read more pages with every day that goes by.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

can you do a post about the forms of manipulation? or if you already have, traits people have when trying to manipulate you. thank you!!

Writing Notes: Psychological Manipulation

Manipulation - Behavior designed to exploit, control, or otherwise influence others to one’s advantage.

3 Basic Forms of Manipulation

DECEPTION

Includes outright lying to those manipulated (e.g., making false promises to them) and also

Misleading them without actually misrepresenting anything, such as:

by encouraging false assumptions, or

fostering self-deception that is advantageous to the manipulator’s ends, or

getting the manipulated person to “view things differently” or interpret the situation in a light favorable to the manipulator’s purposes.

PRESSURE TO ACQUIESCE

Can involve:

browbeating (i.e., to intimidate or disconcert by a stern manner or arrogant speech; bully),

wearing down the other’s resistance, and

making someone agree to something just to avoid further discomfort or embarrassment.

Threats, when the harm they threaten falls short of being coercive, could be categorized as this kind of manipulation.

Pressure can also take the form of offering inducements, when, they give the manipulated person “the wrong sort of reason” for opting in favor of the manipulator’s proposals.

PLAYING UPON EMOTIONS, EMOTIONAL NEEDS, OR WEAKNESSES OF CHARACTER

Includes eliciting an emotion with the aim of making use of it.

Typical emotions used to manipulate are:

fear,

sympathy,

a sense of gratitude toward the manipulator, and

feelings of guilt if the manipulated person does not consent to what the manipulator wants.

Typical weaknesses of character employed for manipulation are:

vanity and

the need for approval—especially the need for the manipulator’s approval.

Another common character flaw through which people can be manipulated is greed:

which tends to make people exaggerate the value or the importance of some prospective benefit, and

to make them willing to take excessive risks when subject to its allure.

Some manipulation makes use of traits or dispositions common to most people, not even necessarily weaknesses, together with situational factors in which these traits come to look like weaknesses.

Manipulativeness, as a trait, can be seen in the following:

EMOTIONAL ABUSE

Also called psychological abuse.

Nonphysical abuse: A pattern of behavior in which one person deliberately and repeatedly subjects another to nonphysical acts that are detrimental to behavioral and affective functioning and overall mental well-being.

Researchers have yet to formulate a universally agreed upon definition of the concept, but they have identified a variety of forms that emotional abuse may take, including:

verbal abuse;

intimidation and terrorization;

humiliation and degradation;

exploitation;

harassment;

rejection and withholding of affection;

isolation; and

excessive control.

MACHIAVELLIANISM

A personality trait marked by a calculating attitude toward human relationships and a belief that ends justify means, however ruthless.

A Machiavellian is one who views other people more or less as objects to be manipulated in pursuit of their goals, if necessary through deliberate deception.

Machiavellians are manipulative: they use, deceive and shortchange others. They always take and even seek the opportunity to benefit from misleading others (Sutton & Keogh 2000).

Manipulation has a multifaceted connection with lying. Machiavellians often lie and they lie convincingly and effectively.

Traits of Machiaveillians: Manipulative, Self-interested, Duplicitous, Cynical, Amoral, Focused on personal gain

Niccolò Machiavelli argued that an effective ruler must be prepared to act in this way.

ANTAGONISM

People who display antagonism behave in ways that put them at odds with other people. They may exhibit any of the following traits:

manipulativeness,

deceitfulness,

grandiosity,

attention seeking,

callousness, and

hostility.

PSYCHOPATHY - A cluster of traits that includes:

lack of empathy,

lack of remorse,

tendency to manipulate other people,

superficial charm,

egocentricity,

deception, and

a grandiosely high sense of self-worth.

HISTRIONIC PERSONALITY DISORDER

Some people with HPD make suicide attempts, often to manipulate others (Bressert, 2016; APA, 2013).

NARCISSISTIC PERSONALITY DISORDER

Once in treatment, clients with NPD may try to manipulate the therapist into supporting their sense of superiority (Skodol & Bender, 2019).

NOTES: On Manipulators

A manipulator's aggression is not obvious.

The tactics manipulators use can make it seem like they're hurting, caring, defending...almost anything, but fighting.

All of us have weaknesses and insecurities that a clever manipulator might exploit.

What our gut tells us a manipulator is like challenges everything we've been taught to believe about human nature.

SOME TACTICS USED BY MANIPULATIVE PEOPLE

Denial

Selective inattention

Rationalization

Diversion

Lying

Covert intimidation

Guilt-tripping

Shaming

Playing the victim role

Vilifying the victim

Playing the servant role

Seduction

Projecting the blame

Minimization

EXAMPLES: Of Manipulative Behaviors

Being highly manipulative in relationships (e.g., being hypochondriacal, being inappropriately seductive, making suicidal threats) to get attention.

Appearing calm and reflective, and then the next minute be highly manipulative (“Do this or else I’ll take you to court! . . .”).

Acting as if they are weak and helpless, or using sexual seduction, or threatening suicide to get attention.

Some examples that challenge the position that manipulation is always wrong:

A negotiator persuades the hostage taker to release the hostages.

Psychological strategies employed in self-defense to thwart an attacker.

Getting a boss to do something that he would not consider doing unless he thought it was his idea.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ 600+ Personality Traits

Hope this helps with your writing! :)

[ibelievewhatyousaid]

The Sinner’s assigned Abnormalities in L. Corp are very intriguing to me, as not being a general “resonance,” that Limbus uses with its current day Ego. But! They were assigned that for a given reason, even if only on a meta level, so I’d like to put my two cents into it as I love the Lobcorp Abnos so much. These are simplified summaries of the Abnormalities and speculation on how they fit said Sinner.

Faust - Forsaken Murderer

I do not believe she has an Ego Gift adored to her except the one for this Abno, so we can focus in on this purely; all being of Forsaken Murderer. (On this note, although I am not talking about the realization Ruina Egos, Meursault has Ego for this Abno as well) Forsaken Murderer in his original logs was said to have been a murderer in federal prison to have been sentenced to death. Before that could take place, a bunch of researchers decided to experiment on him. They wanted to prove an innate “evil,” existed and on a further level, they wanted to “cure,” him, although unclear what it really was they wanted to cure. Their experiments twisted out all of his penitence for violence, turning him docile, until he came to this belief of ringing in his head, that his head itself had became metal, leading to self harm against himself. Eventually a fatal accident happens, the researchers jump the ship and decide to simply dissect his brain, until the end he muttered, “ends, begins, ends, begins, end.”

NOW, this is hard to shape into Faust’s story, given how little we know about her on a deeper level, but, I think there’s already (shallow-ish) connections we can make. Faust has a lot of implications of science experiment (Child in a Flask, Telepole) whether we take this ‘literally,’ it’s safe to say either way Faustcord keeps her on a tight leash as being an “experiment” of a Faust who is willing to take a gamble. A lot of Forsaken Murderer focuses on the fact he is chained and tied up but “free as any other man,” we could take this as Faust’s expectation of being a skilled scientist and genius who is bound by those around her, to fulfill that role, yet “free,” at the sake of being all knowing. Faust is “omnipresent,” yet she is just another in a chain of command. In TKT she mentions to Vergilius that both of them “know their place,” despite how great she is, how “free,” of knowing she is, she is just another chain, in both the City and Dante’s contract to the sinners. We can also go deeper with this concept of “inevitably,” of the city, given to her by a predestined plan of fates, in every mirror world, how it all will end has already been put into motion. To know of how tied you are to fate surely must be a token of freedom as well, can’t it? He also seems to have a bit of an ego, a Ruina line of his being, “Don’t look at me with those eyes. You’re the most pitiful one here.” Which, fits Faust’s need to be above others, such as “Faust is brilliant, smart, Yi Sang is a genius.” An implication that Yi Sang had a cap on how brilliant he can be, something he must’ve lucked into, Faust was born to be great. Even if she is regrettably pitiful in every other aspect. An inability to connect to others or form meaningful attachments, this especially rears its head in events were her intelligence creates gaps between her and others, all of MotWE or Dante’s brush off of her in Canto 6 when she cannot given them an answer, or, even earlier, Sinclair accusing Faust and Limbus using the Sinners as compasses to boughs. In all situations it leaves her isolated and awkward, unable to answer, creating a larger, pitiful wedge between her and others, despite how great she is. She is still a thing to be “studied,” whether from an actual scientist or to other versions of her, or those around her, she is a spectacle.

Outis - Der Freishütz / Bloodbath

The story of Der Freischütz in Lobcorp was of a marksman making a deal with the devil, the devil proposed that the gun could shoot anyone, on the last bullet it would pierce the person the marksman loved, in return, the devil would gain the marksman soul in hell. The marksman thus went through all his bullets, killing off all his loved ones. The marksman traveled, simply doing good and bad deeds in impulse, no sign of an actual moral code. Eventually, he realized that the devil had long since stopped following him. He realizes that the contract had long been fulfilled, since the very beginning of him giving up his loved ones, did he fall to hell. And so, now a devil as well, the marksman continued to shoot anyone he wanted, forever.

Again, another sinner we’re left out in the cold for. But, to tap into Outis’ source, The Odyssey, the story follows Odysseus’ desperation to finally reach home, to his family. As the stories play out the more Odysseus gives up his morals. To sacrificing his men to no mercy, a king who was once gentle and kind, gives up all people around him to succeed in arriving home. Of course, from the start, Odysseus had given up his family, a mother who died alone, a wife left waiting for over a decade, a son who had never known him. Odysseus also makes many deals with Gods around him, something he pays greatly later for. Of course, none of this is a one for one, but I think it is to mimic Odysseus, or here, Outis’ slower decent into someone who hurts those who she loves (or should’ve) by her cruelty, once Odysseus had set off to war was the moment he was bound to lose everything. Which, is very similar to how Der Freishütz is, he had lost his humanity the moment he made the deal.

Bloodbath is a Abno based overtly on Carmen, but, to ease it into a more general baseless story, the Abnormality represents: “the pain of all those who couldn’t take their sorrow in stride.” A huge focus on Bloodbath is the guilt of love, of unable to achieve success, using “scars” as marks of failure. The bath mocks the person peering in with hands reaching out desperately, as if begging to be saved, or joined, in this misery. It’s a sign of endless despair, unable to ever reach the climax of this, the only outcome is to accept this wave of despair and let yourself accept it.

So, arguably this fits Outis really well just on the bases of the line: “Many hands float in the bath. They are the hands of the people I once loved.” This once again, is more of a line of thinking born from her source, but a lot of Odysseus’ guilt is haunting to him, specifically that of Penelope, but overall, he gives up many men, including people very close to him, to never truly “succeed,” I feel like this one is easier to connect to, given what I said of the previous Abno to Outis, so.

Don Quixote - Meat Lantern / Void Dream / Fragment of the Universe

Meat Lantern is quite.. obtuse, in its logs, both in Lobcorp and LoR most is left obscure. Which is terribly fitting. Meat Lantern, by your guess, is obviously not a tiny little flower. The logs say that it is gigantic, underneath the entire facility, always waiting, it lures people in, in L. Corp’s lens, it lures in employees by being a lantern, something shiny, full of hope, they haven’t seen stuck underground for so long. Any nature, any lights, something that wasn’t horrific or artificial has long since been lost to everyone there. It’s easy to feel it calling to them, to reach out, to touch, but it’s all a ploy to devour and eat whoever trusts it.

So, Donqui’s Abnos are actually what made me originally want to write about them. I had written out my analysis of hers a few months before, but it was too hinged on my own reading of her that it felt easy to write off as me sounding insane. But! With the reveal of MotWE.. this seems, pretty obvious. (Glad to know I’m not too crazy) Don Quixote wears a mask, one of “hope” something born from really just being .. silly, of something rare in the City. Someone who genuinely believes in good? In hope? Here? As “Don Quixote” stands as an ideal, a concept, “too good to be true.” and beneath that is a “reality,” no one’s has “really ever seen.” (as the log says about the “real body” of Meat Lantern) and then “devours” people. Yeah. I bet.

Void Dream’s logs follow someone who has Void Dream eat all their nightmares, giving them the best dream they could have imagined, the person they love had returned, even working in such a horrible company that is L. Corp was good. Everything was so, so amazing, a perfect ideal world for the dreamer. When waking up, the person was crushed by reality, when forced to confront the truth they became despaired. They tried to find those dreams again, in an obsession, but, they never did come back. The employee comes to the realization that Void Dream’s deal was too good to be true, that from the start, the Abno had set them up. And they had lost, unable to enjoy either sides of reality or dreams, they find their way back to Void Dream and beg them to eat all their dreams. Stealing away all their dreams, nightmares, hopes and despairs, virtually leaving them empty. When Void Dream is accused of leading people on, it brushes off the person, insisting it just wishes the best for others. The line, “a demon must change its shape to deceive others.”

Originally, I had read this purely as Don Quixote being put into the victim’s prospective, someone who “wakes up” from a perfect dream to be crushed by reality. And, I don’t actually disagree, I think this still 100% fits. But I think her fitting “as” the Abnormality makes perfect sense, too. Obviously, the whole “deceiving others,” line fits. To change one’s shape, a “demon” a Bloodfiend, to deceive others into seeing it as innocent, pure, true to the ideals it preaches. But, and this is a bit speculation on what we know very little of, “Don Quixote,” was given, or is a dream herself that a Bloodfiend wishes to dream, that Bloodfiend must’ve spun this tale, this “perfect” dream is an “act of kindness,” despite not being kind at all. Despite giving out this dream, not only to herself, but to others around her, does it lead to destruction and a harsher fall to reality itself.

Fragment of the Universe.. actually isn’t an Abnormality. At least, not traditionally, if the logs are true. The log mentions how it let itself be caught and studied, and through studying they declared it “intelligent enough” to communicate via language, thus, it learned more and more of humans and humanity. It became endeared and loved people. It reflected what it saw, leading to it looking like a kid’s drawings of hearts. When asked why it had came to interact with humans, it said it wanted to spread messages. One being its song, a song of the universe that drove people crazy, but also let them “finally see the stars,” and also to inform everyone that “there are no coincidences in the universe.”

FotU is really intertwined to its love of humanity, even its design is rooted in this love for the species. Its aim to spread its song is to “relieve” people, as well, even if misguided or unable to be understood. I think Don Quixote, as a concept, is so terribly human. She’s overly emotional, she’s quick to action, strong morals, she’s clumsy and brave and fearful and determined. She is so very human that it backfires. Given Cassetti’s lines, “we are so, so hideous behind the mask.” and his dedication as well as other Bloodfiends to “run” from being monsters and Elena’s lines of her wondering if she was desperate enough to “chase after being an ordinary human again.” I think the Bloodfiend behind Don Quixote genuinely loves humans, and, most likely, wants to “be” one. And “reflects” what she sees, which is a habit Donqui has, mirroring Merusault in TKT, or wishing to “copy” other sinners from Outis’ wristwatch. Donqui also has a huge tie to stars, so, so many of her IDs have her mentioning them, not to mention her tagline. I think an Abno who knows far more than it lets on, powerful, letting itself into humanity, coming to love them, but never being one, is dreadfully fitting.

Yi Sang - Funeral of the Dead Butterflies

FotDB is an Abnormality born from the pain and suffering of.. Lobotomy Corporation, actually! It’s a mourner who is rumored to wandering the halls of the facility with a coffin for those who are bound to be lost, an early mourning for those who are destined to die, and an incomplete sorrow for those already gone, the coffin too small to fit them all, unable to fall asleep or escape. The ending of the log decides that there is no escape, these butterflies are damned to wait, because there “must be an end to every world.”

I think, just like with Gregor’s case, although the original Abnormality is directly tied to L. Corp, in a more general definition, it is about the pain and sorrow of those inevitable deaths born from things such as K corp, or the Smoke War. Cases of people’s lives being thrown away and devalued, not given proper burials, no home to escape to, a fate to dying here, leaving the mourning to the others in the same situation who simply “lucked out.” In Yi Sang’s case, an “ending for every world,” feels very deliberate to the “world,” in which he was locked up in a cage, passively awaiting the days for it to end, one way or another, only to realize he was able to walk out, that the door was never locked. Yi Sang’s grief and attachment to the League of Nine, the only person who seems to grieve over those loses, alone, carrying that pain wherever he goes. In that sense, “an ending to every world,” could also be turned into a guaranteed ending of things he loved as well. There is more to be said, but this one seems very obvious.

Ryōshū - Spider Bud / One sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds / Scorched Girl / Bloodbath / Big and Will be Bad Wolf

(Oh my God girl. Do you need that many???)

Spider Bud is an Abno that is deeply protective of her babies, quite literally her alternative name being “brood mother,” she reacts negatively and violent if an Agent hurts or steps on her children

Ryōshū has gotten this Abno thrice now. It’s gotta be important, and yeah, it is! This is born purely from her Source, but Yoshihide’s tragedy is losing his daughter, Spider Bud’s entire gimmick is being peaceful (as an Abno can be) unless someone hurts her children, she stalks and watches and exacts revenge against those people. I didn’t want to bring in Uptie stories, but Ryōshū’s uncharacteristic gentleness to the spiderlings who nip at her is really.. striking. Once again, this one feels kind of.. duh, so I won’t go much deeper into it.

One Sin is an Abnormality with the purpose of being confessed to, to relieve one of their sins, it’s tied to religion to Hell’s screen gimmick of.. Hell.. feels, yes, but I feel as though this is more general and disingenuous from One Sin’s connection to Christianity while Hell’s screen is about Buddhism’s hell. Instead this felt more interlined to Parallel Gebura. A lot of people have jumped on this for power scaling fun, but! I think it’s important to realize why Carmen would’ve said “At least similar in this regard,” my take is that a huge aspect of Gebura’s woes in Lobcorp was her unable to protect those she loved. Given Yoshihide’s tragedy here, unable to protect his daughter. I think that is the aim that makes the most sense right now with how very little we have about Ryōshū.

Scorched Girl is another Abnormality she’s already gotten, all in all, SG lives on a sense of angered revenge and self destruction. Her logs depict her to be torn in two from her desire of affection to one of wishing harm on others.

Her attempt at hurting others involves hurting herself, which lines up with Yoshihide’s ending, of his natural self destructiveness, how he makes his art and his death. Her rage also lines up with Ryōshū’s, a want to have back warmth, love she’s lost, but only able to be a match of destruction.

Bloodbath, we already covered this in Outis’ section! I think Outis and Ryōshū naturally align similarly, (Hong Lu, Mr. “Horrific family” isn’t ever the one getting cold or aloof to mentions of family or parents or children, it’s only ever these two!) A guilt of unable to succeed despite how much you gave up and sacrificed, including others And to lose those you love, the hands in the water being everyone you’ve ever loved, by your own faults.

Finally, Big and Will be Bad Wolf! The Abnormality is about being set up from birth being one way. From the way society sees you, you will always be what they depict you as. The Abnormality doesn’t feel remorse over the violence it causes, because it was “inevitable” he’d turn out this way. Who is he to blame nature? Regardless of nurture.

This one is the most hard to really fit without going “well, just a hunch.” I think this could be in regards to Yoshihide’s further and further acts of violence and pain to others around him, but unable to feel that remorse (until it is too late) because he was born with this way. He was “born” an “artist.” Who is he to defy things sacrificed for art? He is unable to be anything but cruel and vindictive, and he doesn’t try to be.

Well, that’s everything I could remember off the top of my head! Apologies if it starts to get a little weaker by the end, I’ve been typing for hours. In general, there’s more I could say or conclude, but, because of how loose Abnos are in concept, as well as how most of these Sinners (everyone but Yi Sang…) haven’t had their cantos yet, it leaves a lot of assumptions built upon their sources and short behavior ticks we’ve seen them display. I won’t say these are confirmed or sure fire takes but more so a jumping off point in fathoming these choices.

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

I love Joltik so much I think it's the cutest bug pokemon ever, however would they make a good pet?

[I’m back at last! Did anything big happen while I was away in the pokémon world? Hmmm… Anyway, let’s get right into it!) Joltiks are, unfortunately, a bit of a mixed bag. They are, as you said, pretty cute, and their needs are simple. Unfortunately, “simple” doesn’t always preclude “costly”. But, overall, this is a pretty solid pick for an Electric-type pet.

Starting with their size, these critters are pretty tiny. Space is absolutely not an issue with a joltik, which is a huge plus. Their habitat needs aren’t really fleshed out in the pokédex, so I think it’s safe to assume that most owners would be able to provide them with the environment they need to be comfortable. As far as their personality goes, there isn’t really any data that indicates that they’re particularly anti-social in any way, but at the same time there isn’t anything marking them as cuddly or personable. This isn’t a problem for some pet-owners, especially those who are fond of insects and like to form a special, less conventional bond with a pet. Joltik might not have the broadest appeal at face-value, but they’ve got a place in the pet landscape so far.

The problems come in when it comes to this species’ diet. Joltiks feed on electricity, which they store in a special pouch to use for energy and self-defense (White, Black2/White2, Sword). There are two primary ways that joltiks acquire this electricity, both of which come at a cost. The first is by latching on to “large-bodied” pokémon to feed on their latent static electricity (White). I’m going to go ahead and assume that humans could serve this purpose as well, since “big-bodied” is relative, and joltiks are known in some regions to feed on the electricity from pokémon as small as yampers (Shield). Now, it isn’t immediately clear if this is painful or harmful to the host. There’s every possibility that you could safely allow your joltik to feed off of your static electricity without it being an issue, but I’m not willing to say that that is broadly without health risk. The siphoning of energy may react poorly with some health conditions, and the pokémon’s own electric energy may result in paralysis, given their move set.

Let’s say you want to find an alternative way to feed your joltik, that doesn’t require feeding on other living things’ electricity. Well, you’re in luck! Wild joltiks living in cities have adapted to absorb electricity directly from power outlets (Black)! As with the other feeding method, this comes at a cost, however: in this case financially. While joltiks are small, they are capable of storing some pretty high amounts of energy, enough to allow them to use moves like Electroweb, Thunder Wave, and Electro Ball. Using a power outlet to feed your pet would definitely increase your electricity costs. If you own more than one joltik, it could really spiral out of control if you’re not careful.

That’s the thing: caring for a joltik as a pet isn’t unreadable, as long as you’re careful. Could allowing them to feed on your electricity harm you? Maybe not, so long as you are cognizant of its effect on you. Could allowing them to feed off an outlet get too expensive? Maybe if you provide them unlimited, unrestricted access. Are these pokémon dangerous? Well, considering that joltiks can’t generate electricity on their own, the power of their Electric-Type moves is really dependent on how much energy you provide them with.

While a joltik might not be everyone’s cup of tea, a conscientious owner could easily care for one, despite the potential costs. Plus, on top of all that, I bet they’re really soft. That’s a huge bonus.

[everything-transmasculine]

Apologies if this is far too venty for this blog, but I just gotta rant.

I try to frequent both transandrophobia tags and transmysoginy.

I found transandrophobia while trying to find other people who related to my specific experiences, so I could find a support system and know that I'm not alone. Know that I'm not crazy, that the way people treat me really is related to my trans masculinity.

Then, I frequent transmysoginy, because I want to learn and be aware of the struggles trans women & transfemmes face.

But at this point, I can't view the transmysoginy tag without getting slapped with "fuck men" and "tme's should be shot" and "trans men don't have any problems"

I know it's only a very small vocal minority, I know the vast majority of people who post on that tag are alright. They don't hate us. They support us. They know we're struggling.

But it hurts. It hurts terribly as trans men & transmascs already do not have a support system. We don't have anybody but each other. We're expected to just "man up and deal with it".

It feels like I'm looking at these tags as a form of unintentional self harm at this point.

It's weird, because, from my perspective, most folk constantly remind that, the shitty transphobic posts on the transmisoginy tag, are obviously just a vocal minority and shouldn't be the mascot for the entire tag.

But it feels as though nobody gives that same thought for the transandrophobia tag.

theres no such thing as too venty anon - im here to support you, no matter how complicated or difficult the topic is. :)

ive noticed a definite uptick in “fuck transmascs” as a sentiment from across the site, whether that be in transmisogyny tags, or otherwise - and while this is a very vocal minority who are co-opting the terminology for their own personal gain (reactionary groups LOVE stealing legitimate terminology to prop themselves up as “more logical”) it still is very disheartening to see. when i trawl the usual tags for antitransmasculinity, i really dont see this same sentiment echoed - yes, there are some people who use it for personal gain, as is with any popular tag on tumblr, but the majority of the posts in the tags “transandrophobia” and its derivatives… its mostly just transmasculine people speaking about the horrific abuse theyve had to endure, or its transmasculine people calling for trans unity. those who do try to instigate trans separatism and calls for lateral aggression should be drowned out, laughed at and ignored.

i think this vocal minority is definitely doing more harm than good to the trans community as a whole, and these bad actors are counting on that to destabilize and delegitamize any attempts at trans unity. these people - in both tags - are not dealing with the repercussions of their transphobia offline, they are stirring the pot and then dipping. its easier to stir up a group of people against eachother than it is to unify them - especially when we are already so diverse. its important to recognize and remember that these people calling for violence against trans people (of any kind) are not our allies. these are not people we should be giving ANY attention - because, ultimately, what they want is attention. what they want is a platform. rule #1 of the internet - dont feed the trolls.

as an aside - no, i dont think some transfems and trans women being snappy or insulting online is a systemic issue. i am speaking about real world repercussions and consequences transmasculine people are facing (myself included in that - i have some stories) due to the pervasiveness and reparroting of anti trans rhetoric under the guise of it being “punching up” here… because at the end of the day, youre still just punching. (what i mean is, we are seeing a lot of watered down versions of transphobia, but that doesnt mean it doesnt still hurt.)

[theempressofthenile]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.8 PLANET PLACEMENTS 101

Aries Placements - Have the ability to drive anything into fruition. They can have a goal and see the plan through with an interesting amount of imagination and practicality in place. These aren't the type to sit down and 'wait' for things to come to them, they will simply be stubborn enough to do it themselves. Everything may not have gone as planned on the first go, but with time and stability they will come out greater and gain a sense of self-mastery in their craft.

Venus Placements - People with venusian aspects like sun/moon/rising have a gift that contains a higher amount of charm then most. These individuals can utilize their personalities in a way that will get them favored. Like their gemini friends, they can be a lil tricky to figure out. It is because they are able to use their beauty as a shield (as well as an illusion) to get what they want in life. It is only when they are self aware of this gift, they can use it to get whatever it is they desire.

Neptunian Placements - Neptunians have a gift in being the muse of creation. They are splendid in their craft of creating safe spaces for their imagination to dwell in. Whether its through art, fashion or just simply existing, like their aquarian buddies they have this gift of connecting to the stars way before everyone can catch up. They can come off a bit crazy to others, but in hindsight they are deeply aware of self and have a mass amount of empathy that allows them to read reality the way it is, and share that insight with the rest of the world.

Pluto Placements - Plutonians can undergo a lot of stress when they allow things to fester without bringing attention to the matter. These are the individuals to suffer in silence and by not saying a word they can cut out any forms of emotional support if they are not aware of themselves to escape the astro-cities that can sometimes be the danger of their own mind. (Moon/Pluto Placements - Outlets for your emotional expression is a necessity.) When there is no guidance for your emotions to thrive you will end up rageful and continuing to feel the lesser dense emotions hiding in your body. It will eventually way on you and it'll take a toll on your spirit. The power beneath this placement is to hold on tightly to that powerful entity you know is divine no matter what they tell you.

Plutonian Individuals may find themselves in the arms of people who are testifying their gifts right in front of you. Some wish to belittle and do harm to you because in the mirror they do not see the same light or dark power that you continue to see in yourself. So these people will always try to bite you to get a piece of it themselves, but in the end it never turns out the way they think. It turns sour.

Sun Placements - So I noticed the more sun placements an individual has, the more difficult this energy can be to surrender to. A person with sun/neptune may have a difficulty with expressing their empathic nature because the world isn't connected to their astral body like they are. When they express themselves, its like their connecting to their soul that feels out of the human experience. They have a different connection to the world then most, so they'll be often misunderstood. But in general, sun placements can feel a bit off in society because the world is always saying their cocky or arrogant when really they are free of the world and its restraints. Sun placements (no matter how big or small the aspect) have to deal with a lot of people taking themselves for granted. When they are sent to be a light, others are horrified by their shadows being shined on (sun/pluto). The more placements (especially conjunctions you have) the more you'll be tempted to stop the light since others will attempt to bring you down with them. It's a path that builds for a leader to take ship, not to dim down.

Uranian Placements - Ahead of their time but mostly because the world isn't ready for change. When these individuals get a hand on how society operates, they become powerhouses who are the tyrants ready for newness.These brainiacs are capable of being connected to the cosmos where receiving divine information on how to move and where to go gives them great benefit. They only thing I can say to them is, you have to be mindful of the company you keep. Because not everyone can see the vision. Do not allow any and everybody to take up space for whatever it is you claim as yours. Just because THEY can't see it doesn't mean its not real. Again, the things you see come through in your mind is a gift that the cosmic connections of space gave to you. You know the true concept of time more than anyone else, and with that you are able to gather up the right information, make your abilities/skills stronger than ever and than boom. The big bang. It all works in the end, dont force yourself to know everything. Just focus on the stars.

[velvetvexations]

I’m. So baffled by that one dude saying that trans men being able to pretend to be women is a privilege, because in his tags he says that it’s a thing specific to transmascs. Does he mean pretending to be cis as a means of safety is a transmasc specific thing?? Because uh, I’m… pretty sure that’s something that can be done regardless of a trans person’s gender? There are transfems and nonbinary people who can also pretend to be cis [whatever their agab was], too?

Its also not a privilege. Having to hide what you are out of fear isn’t a fucking privilege lmao

strangely people understand that when it's about trans women

just saw a post on my dash saying "'infighting' is a dogwhistle which frames transfems as aggressors". i really hope the tide is turning like you said, bc this shit is getting exhausting and im still seeing it from random people i follow who otherwise gave no indication that they drank the koolaid.

they make me out to be the aggressor all the time!

Nazi imagery anon here

These are the pics I was referring to.

As you can see it’s posted on the verified border security account and you can see two different nazi symbols on him :(

yeah it looks like standards for what they allow soldiers to adorn themselves with are low and the person taking and posting the pics aren't paying good enough attention because that guy also straight up has a naked anime bitch on his knife sheath

as I said this is an individual thing and they need to start knocking their heads together like the Three Stooges and sending them into trenches first

You know who saying that th**fab is actually a storied term that trans fems have been using to identify transmisogonists is fucking insane like girl that's such obvious lie give us nothing

they aren't even trying

It’s crazy how almost every other day on this site I see a new post with like 50k notes talking about how absolutely NOBODY deserves to be harassed, sent death threats or be put on blast yet once again I’m seeing people trying to justify the harassment of another transmasc teenager. Honestly people should just start openly admitting Tumblr is becoming increasingly hostile towards trans masculine individuals, I don’t see clownery on this level on any other platform-

Tumblr...is really bad.

I think the reason why this whole headcanons discourse bothers me so much is that is really is just fuelled by petty spite. Like all these characters are cisgender in canon. We make headcanons because it’s FUN to expand on characters in ways that reflect our different life experiences in whatever form that may take. Intentionally going after transmascs, especially young transmascs, for doing this with characters like they like and accusing them of all these different things genuinely does just feel like bigotry. Who cares if a head canon may not make the most amount of sense? It’s a cisgender fictional character we’re playing around with! Why does it have to be some grand act of activism to say blorbo number 3 is transmasc? We have much bigger fish to fry here.

exactly it's such dedication to not letting anyone else have anything

So sick of people acting like trans men are the same as cis men under the patriarchy and moreso im really sick of the "you're privileged to not be surrounded by men". Like, for lack of better phrasing, saying that about a group of people that is generally perceived as "failure women" pre transition (and sometimes during and post) is a little tone deaf. All about acknowledging how women and people perceived as women are harmed by misogyny until the ones perceived are men. Gender essentialism is ugly and tasteless and nonsensical. Please feel free to delete this im just rambling without a point

rambling is okay anon <3

„wow ur so privileged to not fear men”

i fear the fucking everyone asshole, i just realized that isnt everyone elses fault so i should still treat them with respect !!!!!

that woman called me a "self-hating doll" and I hate the second part a lot more than the first

[michanvalentine]

"I just feel numb".

I've come across interpretations of this line or scene that differ drastically from my own perspective. Some even seem to deliberately downplay it, stripping it entirely of its weight and meaning. But to me, it goes far beyond the immediate emotional state Astarion is plunged into in that moment. It’s deeply tied to his past, his future, and even to abstract concepts that echo throughout the psyche of our favorite vampire spawn.

The concept of revenge is both fascinating and complex, because it touches deeply human chords: pain, anger, humiliation, the need for justice. Revenge often arises where justice is absent or perceived as inadequate, and for this reason, it can initially seem like a legitimate or even cathartic response.

From a narrative point of view, revenge is a powerful driving force. From Hamlet to Kill Bill, from The Count of Monte Cristo to The Last of Us, the desire for vengeance pushes characters down dramatic paths that often transform, consume, or destroy them. Revenge promises relief—but rarely delivers it. As Francis Bacon once said, “A man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green.” The pain never truly closes, because revenge cannot rewrite the past. And this is a key point to keep in mind—especially when talking about Astarion.

In certain contexts—particularly narrative or symbolic—revenge can also be interpreted as a form of reclamation, especially when it involves recovering one’s identity, breaking free from an oppressor, or achieving a form of social justice. In that sense, it’s not so much “revenge” as it is reparation or liberation. But it all depends on how it’s carried out, with what level of awareness, and whether it leaves space for something afterward: rebirth, change, a future.

That’s the premise. Astarion craves revenge for everything that was done to him. He longs so deeply for vengeance, for vindication, that he’s willing to let it consume him and harm anyone in his path. So what happens the moment that revenge—or, in the vampire spawn ending, that liberation—actually takes place?

Is Astarion sad? Is he depressed? No. Astarion is overwhelmed by the realization that the satisfaction he hoped to gain from Cazador’s death isn’t enough to erase centuries of suffering and humiliation.

Astarion reacts the way any person would in such a situation. Astarion reacts exactly the way a human being would. In that precise moment, Astarion is more human than ever.

He’s overcome by everything he’s lost, and everything he’s gained, as he himself says. He needs time to internally reorganize—his thoughts, his feelings, his very sense of self. There’s so much, and it’s all so intense, so painful, that the only thing he can do is shut down. This is shock, in the clinical sense of the word. After prolonged trauma, it’s common for the body and mind to react not with euphoria, but with numbness.

For years, Astarion yearned for this moment. He built his sense of identity around the need to survive Cazador, to be free of him. And when he finally succeeds, he finds himself… empty.

Because pain was a pillar. And now that the pillar has crumbled, he has nothing to lean on.

Cazador, monstrous as he was, was the gravitational center of Astarion’s existence. Hate and fear kept him alive, motivated him. Removing Cazador from his life also means having to redefine himself from scratch. It’s not just the end of a tormentor—it’s the collapse of a psychological structure. And that’s disorienting.

As if that weren’t enough, we come to the heart of the matter: killing Cazador doesn’t heal Astarion. It doesn’t erase the wounds, it doesn’t return lost time, and it doesn’t remove the trauma.

Revenge offers a conclusion—but not meaning. It’s a final act that doesn’t resolve the pain. And that’s why he feels emotionally frozen as he comes to terms with it all.

This is a theme that, within the game itself, does not concern Astarion alone. We can see the same dynamic in Karlach after she confronts her nemesis, Gortash. The tyrant’s death changes nothing—Karlach was dying before, because of what was done to her, and she’s still dying. She will die regardless of the justice achieved. And that realization hits hard—it flattens, destroys, and drains her with its brutal clarity.

Karlach is different from Astarion and reacts with anger, but when even that—her ever-burning fire, the strength that sustains her even in battle—begins to fade, she temporarily leaves the party. She seeks solitude, retreats inward to reorganize, to come to terms with what happened, what she feels, and what awaits her in the future.

Even more significant—and, narratively speaking, a clear piece of foreshadowing for both Karlach and Astarion—is Dame Aylin’s confrontation with the wizard Lorroakan. Even Selune’s daughter is overwhelmed after the battle. The villain is dead, but the aasimar’s suffering is more alive than ever. The valiant warrior, the beacon of hope, is literally on the ground—and both Astarion and Karlach will have something to say about it.

And it’s no coincidence. From a storytelling perspective, this prepares us for the moment when both of them will face their own abuser.

And it’s almost tender, almost heartbreaking, to hear what they both say: they don’t understand why Dame Aylin is so downcast. And when Tav/Durge suggests the fear of feeling just like her once they’re standing over their own nemesis, both of them dismiss the idea, saying they’ll laugh and dance on the corpses of Gortash and Cazador.

But that’s not how pain works. That’s not how trauma works. That’s not how revenge works.

"That's it. He's gone. After all these years – these centuries – it's really over."

This is the first thing Spawn Astarion says to Tav/Durge after being addressed at the end of the battle. And he says it in a tone of voice that already says everything—a tone that perfectly conveys what he’s feeling and how much that feeling is crushing him.

Let’s break it down: "That's it. He's gone." Just like that, Astarion—centuries of suffering, torture, loneliness, exploitation, and fear, all gone in the blink of an eye. A single moment, one that doesn't even begin to make up for the slow passage of the years—nor the ones still to come. How dare Cazador vanish so quickly? How dare he not take all those feelings with him? Above all, why—despite the hatred, the contempt, and the anger—has he left such an enormous void inside you?

"After all these years – these centuries – it's really over." Yes. It’s over, and you barely had time to process it. You almost didn’t catch the details of what happened—and yet, the memory of the torture, of the people who “had” you, of all the humiliations you endured, is still there. And it will stay with you for the rest of your unlife.

"I just feel numb." That’s okay. Rest, love. Breathe. I’m here with you. You’ve already done more than enough—you were incredible. We’ll take care of the rest tomorrow.

And now you tell me if this isn’t the most wonderfully imperfect and profoundly human vampire spawn to ever exist.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Emotional Blackmail

Emotional Blackmail

A dysfunctional form of manipulation that people use to place demands and threaten victims to get what they want.

The undertone of emotional blackmail is if you don’t do what I want when I want it, you will suffer.

The term was introduced by Susan Forward, Ph.D., in her book Emotional Blackmail: When the People in Your Life Use Fear, Obligation, and Guilt to Manipulate You (Forward & Frazier, 1998).

Emotional blackmailers employ a fear–emotion–guilt tactic to get what they want.

FOG - a term named by Forward, suggesting that:

Fear

Obligation

Guilt

Are the dynamics in emotional blackmail between the manipulator and the victim.

The acronym FOG also accurately describes the confusion and lack of clarity and thinking that can occur in these interpersonal dynamics.

Emotional blackmail can create a fog and contribute to feelings of fear, obligation, guilt, and anxiety.

According to Forward, emotional blackmail occurs in close relationships.

The manipulator leverages knowledge gained about the victim’s fears.

Blackmailers will use the information they learn about what the victim fears to manipulate them.

Forward suggests that one of the most painful elements of emotional blackmail is that they use personal information about the victim’s vulnerabilities against them.

Another trigger blackmailers will use is putting the victim’s sense of obligation to the test. They will commonly create undeserved guilt and blame to attribute their problems to the victim.

Because the tactics can be covert, emotional blackmail may be difficult to spot, especially for those who may experience more vulnerabilities to it.

They can use covert techniques that create confusion by:

Making their demands seem reasonable

Make the victim feel selfish

Pathologizing or making the victim seem as though they are crazy

Ally with someone of influence to intimidate the victim

There are warning signs of emotional blackmail in a relationship:

If one person frequently apologizes for things that are not their doing, such as the manipulator’s outburst, bad day, or negative behaviors.

If one person insists on only their way or nothing, even if it is at the expense of the partner.

It seems to be a one-way street of sacrifice and compliance.

One person feels intimidated or threatened to obey or comply.

When in a dysfunctional cycle of emotional blackmail, the victim may be inclined to:

apologize,

plead,

change plans to meet the others’ needs,

cry,

use logic,

give in, or

challenge.

Typically, they will find it difficult to stand up for themselves, directly address the issue, set boundaries, and communicate with the blackmailer that the behavior is inappropriate. They do not consistently set clear boundaries indicating what is acceptable for them.

Forward and Frazier recognize 4 types of blackmailing, each with varying manipulation tactics.

Punishers – Punishers operate with a need to get their way, regardless of the feelings or needs of the other person. Their motto is “my way or the highway.” Punishers will insist upon pushing for control and getting what they want with threats to inflict damage or harm.

Self-punishers – Individuals can make threats of self-harm if the partner does not comply with what they want.

Sufferers – This is the voice of a victim conveying guilt on the partner if they do not do what is demanded. If they don’t comply, there is a suggestion that their suffering will be the others’ fault. “After all that I’ve done for you, you are going to let me suffer…?”

Tantalizers – This can be the most subtle and confusing form of manipulation. There is a promise of what will be better if they comply. It sparks hope yet is still connecting a threat to the demand.

Common in any abuse cycles, it is important to understand the progression of emotional blackmail.

It usually starts as subtle or implicit comments and behaviors.

The progression can be insidious, so one does not realize its impact until it has gotten severe.

A metaphor would be of the frog in boiling water:

If you place a frog immediately into boiling water, its instincts will cause it to jump out because of the instant pain. However, if you place a frog in lukewarm water and slowly increase the heat, it does not recognize the pain as a danger signal at the same level of heat. The frog becomes desensitized as the water is heating up slowly. The behaviors and impact of emotional blackmail can be similar.

There are 6 progressive steps identified in emotional blackmail:

A demand made from the manipulator. The manipulator will make a clear demand of what they want, tied with a threat. You need to pay my rent or I’ll leave you. You need to let me move in or I’ll tell your sister what you said about her.

Resistance from the victim. After the demand is identified, the victim may resist or feel the need to avoid the person because they are unsure how to handle the demand. The concerning part of this process is it is often an unsavory, unfavorable, or unreasonable demand placed on the victim.

Pressure from the manipulator. Manipulators of emotional blackmail are not concerned about pushing too hard. They will persist to get what they want no matter what it takes. They disregard hurt feelings or fear being created. Creating fear can even be the driving force behind the demand made. The manipulator may put pressure suggesting that the victim is being irrational, silly, or unreasonable themselves. This part of the process can cause the victim to begin to question their sense of reality and if they are wrong in feeling concerned about the demand being placed upon them. They begin to lose their healthy sense of perspective and what their gut is telling them. The manipulator may even turn the situation around to blame the victim or question their motives if they do not initially agree to the placed demand. Confusion is a big part of this process.

Threatening the victim. This is the part of the process where the manipulator is threatening to do or not do something to cause unhappiness, discomfort, or pain for the victim. If you don’t do this…then I will do this… They create a situation where the victim can be responsible for the promised negative outcome if they do not comply.

Victim compliance. The victim gives in, either quickly, or slow through a process of increasing self-doubt. They comply with the demand of the manipulator, often causing feelings of anxiety, guilt, fear, anger, or resentment.

The manipulator gets their way and subsides temporarily until the next demand of what they want comes up. The frequency of these behaviors and tendencies vary in all relationships involving emotional blackmail. Regardless of the consistency of these behaviors, it has a negative and toxic effect on the relationship and on the victim. Now the cycle is in place and the foundation is set for this pattern to continue.

In some situations, there may seem to be a fine line between indirect communication and manipulation.

Emotional blackmail and indirect communication can both have passive aggressive undertones.

The communication becomes manipulation and blackmail when it is used consistently to control another individual or coerce them into doing what the requestor demands.

The victim will typically feel resistance to comply, yet does it even at the cost of their own well-being.

There is also a distinction between setting healthy boundaries and emotional blackmail.

In setting boundaries, the individual is asserting themselves and communicating what their needs are.

Emotional blackmail involves conveying threats that will result in a punishment of the victim does not meet the request.

The Emotional Blackmailer. Someone engaging in emotional blackmail will demonstrate any or all of the following:

Telling you that you are crazy for questioning them

Controlling what you do

Ignoring your concerns and pushback

Avoiding taking accountability

Constantly placing blame on others for their behaviors

Providing empty apologies

Using fear, obligation, threats, and guilt to get their way

Unwilling to compromise

Seemingly unconcerned about your needs

Rationalizing their unreasonable behaviors and requests

Intimidate you until you do what they want

Blame you for something that you didn’t do so that you feel you have to earn their affection

Accuse you of doing something you didn’t do

Threaten to harm either you or themselves

Characteristics of Emotional Blackmailers. There is no exact prototype, yet they can demonstrate the following:

Narcissistic tendencies

Self-centered

Intense anger

Deep panic, fear, depression, or rage

Fear of abandonment

Emotionally immature

Not in touch with feelings

Lack of accountability

Hate to lose

Some of these traits may be close to the surface and observable, such as anger. However, much of the insecurities, emotional pain and fears lie deep within the psychological makeup of the blackmailer.

Victims of Emotional Blackmail typically feel insecure, unvalued, and unworthy. They often struggle with low self-esteem and doubt their own needs. Victims can demonstrate the following characteristics:

Approval seeking, people pleasing

Extreme compassion and empathy

Tendency to take blame

Tendency to feel pity for others

Try to avoid conflict

Peacekeeping habits

Strong sense of responsibility and doing the “right thing”

Fear of abandonment

Sensitivity, inclination to personalize things

Fear of anger

Self-doubt, low self-esteem

There can be different levels of emotional blackmail, ranging from threats with little consequence to threats that can impact major life decisions or can be dangerous.

Some brief and damaging examples of threats associated with emotional blackmail:

If you don’t take care of me, I’ll wind up in the hospital/on the street/unable to work.

You’ll never see your kids again.

I’ll make you suffer.

You’ll destroy this family.

You’re not my child anymore.

You’ll be sorry.

I’m cutting you out of my will.

I’ll get sick.

I can’t make it without you.

Handling Emotional Blackmail

In her book, Invisible Chains: Overcoming Coercive Control in Your Intimate Relationship, Lisa Aronson Fontes provides a “Controlling Relationship Assessment.”

Taking an assessment may be a useful way to start reflecting and identifying the abusive behaviors that are occurring. Her book also provides ways to help:

Recognize the controlling behaviors of all kinds.

Understand why this destructive pattern occurs.

Determine whether you are in danger and if your partner can change.

Protect yourself and your kids.

Find the support and resources you need.

Take action to improve or end your relationship.

Regain your freedom and independence.

Practical suggestions on what actions to take during an exchange with a blackmailer can be useful.

Consider taking a long pause before you comply with the request.

Take a break and think about how you are feeling about the demand.

Create some distance from the emotion so you can make a healthy decision based on logic, rather than the emotional default.

Put it on your timetable. It will create off balance and it can be scary. There will be pressure to get back into the old patterns, so there is likely to be discomfort.

Forward suggests tips such as repeating a neutral statement to the demand placed, such as “no thank you.” This stops the back and forth and capitulation of the emotional exchange.

Forward suggests additional techniques to help stop emotional blackmail. Establish an SOS before responding to a demand:

STOP – I need time to think about it.

OBSERVE – one’s own reactions, thoughts, emotions, triggers.

STRATEGIZE- analyze the demands and the potential impact of complying. Consider what you need and explore alternative options.

Develop “powerful non-defensive communication.” Sharon Ellison (2002) provides helpful guidance on non-defensive communication:

Suggestions are to not take the bait from the blackmailer, yet stay on point with what your key message is.

Do not allow yourself to be derailed by their comments, demands, and behaviors.

Stick with “This is who I am and what I want.”

There are alternative paths to take in the legal system beyond criminal statutes.

In some cases of emotional abuse, civil lawsuits can be filed.

Victims or families of victims can file these emotional abuse claims based on an intentional infliction of emotional distress.

According to the legal system, Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress involves the following:

Intentional infliction of emotional distress is an intentional tort based on conduct so awful that it causes the victim extreme emotional trauma.

Emotional distress claims are difficult to prove and win, and don’t apply to simple rudeness or generally offensive behavior. Instead, these cases arise when conduct is so reprehensible that the emotional effects are real, lasting, and damaging.

In order to have a successful claim for intentional infliction of emotional distress, a person must prove 3 elements:

Extreme or Outrageous Conduct: Again, this is behavior that is more than merely malicious, harmful, or offensive — the conduct must exceed all possible bounds of decency;

The Conduct Was Intentional or Reckless: Careless or negligent behavior won’t suffice — the actor must intend to cause emotional distress or know that emotional distress is likely to occur; and

The Conduct Caused Severe Emotional Distress: This can be the hardest to prove, but severe and lasting emotional effects like persistent anxiety and paranoia, or possible bodily harm like ulcers or headaches could show a person suffered extreme emotional distress as a result of the conduct.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[golvio]

Finally got around to seeing all of Apotheosis’ new endings, and I’m still sitting with it days later.

OG Apotheosis was among the bottom of my Princess ranking list since I guess I’m not into the whole Domination bit as some other prople, though I figured there was more to her based on what was already there. However, I wasn’t ready to have my suspicions confirmed in such a viscerally upsetting way in the Paranoid version of the “make her feel what you felt” ending. Like…as initially satisfying as finally forcing her to stop hurting you felt, it stopped feeling like a victory when you actually saw what you’d done to her. You stop feeling like a helpless victim when you understand just how hollow she’d felt inside despite her boasts and your perception of her as untouchable and unstoppable helped reinforce this armor she’d built around herself.

She may have cruelly lorded over you to compensate for her own feelings of helplessness back when she was at your mercy, but you were the one who gave up and ceded all control to her in the first place. Your relationship is a conversation, not a one-sided Pygmalian molding of an empty blank slate, and the two of you built that abusive relationship and unbalanced power dynamic together. On one hand, the prison of your own mind within the role you assigned yourself is far harder to escape than any physical jail and can operate even in her absence, to the point where acting against its oppressive rules seems so impossible that it feels like “madness.” On the other hand, no one is actually keeping you there but you.

This ending and Fury’s “pacifist” ending feel like funhouse mirror reflections of each other—each hurts the other to try to force them to understand the harm they’ve caused and get an apology, but by hurting each other they diminish each other, by hurting each other they hurt themselves. Becoming the warden of the jail where you’re also held prisoner can only give you the illusion of control and freedom, at best. Any “victory” in such a power struggle, no matter how initially triumphant, is ultimately a Pyrrhic one.

And then there’s the “Grace” ending. As much as she’d hurt you, in her last moments, instead of selfishly clutching you to herself tighter for comfort, she hurls you towards the exit, giving you a single chance for a mad, impossible dash towards freedom. She didn’t have to do that, and ultimately there was no point in doing that because the hole she opened sealed itself back up before you could reach it, but she still did it. Despite her embracing her role as unstoppable, untouchable goddess to flee from the memory of her original weak, vulnerable self, deep down she didn’t actually want to hurt you. She missed you and wanted to be with you again, but since all she knew was domination and subjugation, she only knew how to express that through trying to paternalistically control you. When the chips were down and she was being reassimilated into the Cosmic Spaghetti of Shifty’s incomplete form, she finally relinquished control and was able to express her true feelings selflessly.

That…gave me some very conflicting feelings. Don’t get me wrong, I love when finding out more about characters I initially disliked makes me feel all conflicted. It’s just…a lot. Woof.

There’s also this theme of being “trapped inside yourself,” in this case literally when it comes to two fragments of gods living out an allegory for their own imprisonment. It may be true that the Vessels are only incomplete pieces of The Shifting Mound who weren’t meant to function on their own, but Shifty herself is so vast and all-encompassing that each of her pieces is complex enough to be a functioning individual in her own right, which is especially true of the Chapter 3+ Princesses, who’ve developed so much from their experiences that they feel much more like “real,” multifaceted people. If you find Tower/Apotheosis first, then reach Shifty’s heart, the Princess you find there is the version of the Heart that feels most like she’s her own person separate from Shifty, and rejects Shifty’s idea of godhood. Her rejection of “labels” after her being constrained by Shifty’s parameters feels a lot more meaningful as a result.

On top of that…now you understand what it feels to be trapped inside of a “bigger, more Important” version of yourself. If The Long Quiet is you, then your godly meta-body is also the prison that’s keeping both the conscious, individual, mortal You trapped along with the Princess. It’s not like you can just get up and leave because you have no conscious control over this part of yourself. And when you do wake up, you risk losing yourself as you are now to integrate into that greater whole. Is that really worth it, or is there another way that doesn’t require giving up your individual existence? It’s like the flipside of The Empty Cup, too, in terms of foreshadowing the possible “Third Way” you can escape without embracing godhood and staying trapped within yourself, within the role you built up for yourself.

[livmightlive]

LU Soul Eater AU: Four

I must admit, Four has a really edgy 2014 lab AU that I spent too much time thinking about. I did have fun though so here’s his backstory and a trigger warning for unethical human experimentation. I don’t think it’s anything more graphic than what would be in Soul Eater.

A small disclaimer: I’m going mostly off of what I remember from the manga for any sense of canon, I haven’t had the privilege of playing the game yet. 😔

I think I mentioned before, but each of Four’s colors are a different type of knife. Together they’re able form the four sword.

Green is a machete. 

I decided on that for him because I think that machetes look really dangerous, showing up in a lot of horror media, and can cause a lot of harm, but that is not what they are meant for. Machetes are meant for clearing bush and foliage away to clear paths through forest or jungle. They can be used to obtain resources. A trailblazer or leader might use this knife. Green grew up with his father who was a captain in the royal guard. Green was being groomed as a weapon for the Princess Dot. Upon manifesting as a machete, a lot of people, especially Green’s own father, were disappointed and believed him to be a poor weapon for a princess looking crude and brutal. Together, Dot and Green proved the masses wrong, with them both proving themselves as leaders before fighters. 

Vio is a throwing knife. 

Vio is a child runaway. I can’t figure out what would be a good reason for him to run or what his family would be like, but I imagine he learned a dangerous secret. I also like to think that despite Vio being very smart, he can be unreasonable and is able to rationalize himself into making bad choices. He’s a throwing knife because it takes a lot of learning and skill to be able to wield a weapon such as that. It also takes something crazy to throw your weapon away from you and be able to rely on it to return. Vio can be recalled by his meister, but it has to be of his own accord. He can also control his flight to some degree. Up until the events I’ll describe in a minute, he had never been wielded before.

Blue is a trench knife.

In the background of the events during my story, there’s a war raging in the background that’s much more prevalent in Warrior’s story. This has caused a lot of children to be orphaned, Blue included. He grows up in a poorly funded orphanage and gets into a lot of fights growing up. I chose a trench knife for Blue because it is a very brutal weapon, something which I think he can be. It’s also a weapon that when you use, you know that you are aiming to really hurt your opponent and that you have to get really close to do so. There are also two main ways to use a trench knife, the blade, ofc, and the brass knuckles which I think kind of show how Blue thinks outside the box, especially in combat. It’s also a weapon that’s mean to be used when your back is against the wall.

Red is a Switchblade.

Red also grew up in an orphanage also due to the war. He and Blue grew up in the same place but weren’t close with each other. He definitely grew up more of a lover having a high level of empathy. Despite being picked on, maybe bullied a bit, Red is the type of person who never wants to hurt somebody else even in self defense. I chose the switchblade for Red because it kind of conceals its nature most of the time hiding in a sheath. A switchblade is a weapon that has to be used in close quarters, but unlike Blue’s trench knife, the opponent might not even recognize it as a weapon until it’s too late. Switchblades are spring loaded and fast, but by pressing a button, the user has a lot of choice before they use it. I think Red would be able to stop himself from being triggered in his weapon form if he tried hard enough.

All of the four were born in the same year, all being roughly the same age. (Yay this means I can choose their zodiacs!) When they were all 11, each of them were kidnapped in the same winter by a witch called Vaati. Vio was first, being a homeless child he was hungry enough to be lured in by the prospect of working for food and board. This later would be something he feels ashamed of thinking himself more clever than that. Next would be Red who thought he was helping an elderly woman carry her groceries home… into a dark alleyway. Blue would be next, probably just being classically kidnapped after he poked around somewhere shady. Green would be the last, going on a personal mission to investigate the rapid disappearance of kids from the city he lived in. 

Vaati is a witch who is trying to make weaker weapons stronger in order to arm the army of the ancient evil (ganon) that he and many other witches are trying to revive.  For his first experiment, he wants to fuse several small/young weapons into one big stronger one. He chose the four because they’re young enough to be malleable but old enough to actually be able to turn into their weapons. They also conveniently have a lot in common, age, gender, and weapon type which Vaati thinks will make it easier to fuse them.

Vaati begins a series of experiments that don’t really seem to make sense to the four. He’ll force them all to work together to complete puzzles only to rip them apart for the next few. Vio, who’s been there the longest, plays along well knowing what to expect. Green, who’s been training already for a long time, doesn't struggle too much with physical or mental challenges. Red and Blue however struggle a lot causing Vaati to use crueler and crueler experiments to get them to obey.

Vaati’s struggle with Red and Blue resides in that Blue fights back the most and is actually quite brawny for a tween and Red won’t fight at all refusing to take his weapon form and even if he does, he won’t unsheath. Blue is something Vaati must subdue and break in. Red is something to trigger. He routinely exposes them to extreme temperatures, Blue the cold and Red the heat, and subjects them to frightening simulations. (I’m basing this off the manga with blue being frozen, red in the burning village, the giant poe)

Most confusingly, he makes the four wield each other which is not natural/impossible for weapons to do. Vaati achieves this with the help of magic.

Vaati works using his own son Shadow as an assistant. Shadow is a similar age as the boys and enjoys the power he gets to lord over them. Secretly, he’s really happy to have so many other kids around. That being said. He hasn’t been properly socialized so his idea of trying to play with them is just by mildly tormenting them. 

Vio is the first to start befriending Shadow. Like in the manga, he does this with the intention of later betraying him, planning on using him as means to escape. He unexpectedly begins to genuinely like Shadow and starts to experience extreme guilt in thinking about what he’s going to do. Nevertheless, Vio begins to start faking Stockholm syndrome. This is really confusing for the rest of the boys. Blue thinks that Vio is bad person and is actually siding with Vaati. This leads to a fight between them that results in Vio being separated from the rest of the boys. (I didn’t mention it but they’re usually locked in the same room between experiments.) Red believes that Vio actually has Stockholm syndrome and feels really bad for him. Green can see through Vios' plan but just thinks that it’s a really bad idea. He doesn’t say anything though because he doesn’t want to ruin it for him just in case it does work. 

Red is the next to befriend Shadow, though it’s unintentional. Despite everything, Red does his best to remain kind, maybe not so much to Vaati, but to Shadow, sure. Red thinks that Shadow is just a brainwashed kid, which he’s kind of right about. Shadow starts to like Red because he’ll go along with any game he wants to play. 

Green falls after Red gets more chill with Shadow. The games they play look fun and Green really didn’t have a lot of chances to play growing up. He starts to take a page from Vio’s book, trying to pry information where he can from Shadow. Somehow he feels less bad about this than Vio does. 

Blue thinks everyone is going crazy in here so he takes to verbally bullying Shadow whenever he swings by. Shadow, being a weirdo, thinks that it’s a form of banter so he just bullies Blue back. Unexpectedly, and to his own horror, Blue finds it really fun to be able to have a witty back and forth with somebody who can match his level.

Shadow for the first month or two is really his dad kidnapped people his age. It’s so FUN having people to play with! He even has a best friend now in Vio. He doesn’t really think about the implications of his dad hurting his new friends, and his role in that, until they start acting different. 

Vio starts having panic attacks (out of nowhere!/s) and can take hours or even days to calm down rendering him unable to even speak. This is the first thing that rattles Shadow. It’s the first time he felt hurt seeing somebody else hurt. His attempts to calm Vio down begin selfishly, wanting him to stop acting weird and to start acting like his best friend again. Eventually it turns into genuine and raw concern. Shadow, for the first time, feels bad because somebody else does. He starts just really wanting Vio to be okay. 

His other playmates start breaking down too. Red is too exhausted now to play. He sleeps most of the day away and when he’s awake he’s too shaky and weak to do anything. Blue becomes dissonant, stuck staring at walls. He won’t respond to even the strongest of Shadow’s remarks. Green is caught between caring for the other two. He becomes too busy to try and pry information out of Shadow.

Then a day comes where Vaati gathers each boy and throws them into the middle of a collection of runes drawn on the ground with a combination of their blood. A flash and they’re all rendered into their weapon states, unwillingly. After a few moments there’s another flash and only a single weapon remains. The Four Sword. When the weapon takes its human form back, only one terrified boy stands sharing features of the four that formed it. 

Despite Vaati’s satisfaction, Shadow feels that something REALLY wrong just happened, and it did. He later visits “Four. Four is shell shocked, barely able to walk, confused, and really, REALLY scared. He looks at Shadow and begs him to let him out. Shadow obliges.

Picking up the newly formed Four sword, Shadow vanquishes his own father and runs with his new friend Four. Shadow was greatly wounded in the fight, his father cursing him to never stand in sunlight. Four is traumatized and so confused. He decides to go to Green’s father, now technically Four’s father, unsure of where else to go. 

The two boys tell the story to Four’s dad and a proper raid is unleashed on Vaati’s lab, leaving out the parts where Shadow was Vaati’s accomplice for most of the time. No body is found. Four’s father tries to defuse him, which just terrifies him. Shadow gets some medical treatment but most people don’t want to treat him, as he was Vaati’s son. 

Four’s father, unsure what to do with two traumatized children, dumps them on his father, Four’s grandfather who lives out of town as a blacksmith. There they all heal and after a few years learn to defuse. They’ve all spent so much time together though that they can’t bare to part. They are literally part of each other now. Green’s father decides to give them all knight training and Shadow learns how to wield each of them and Four properly. They all know how to wield each other too but this is uncanny for a lot of people. Weapons wielding weapons… 

Shadow goes missing at the end of a dangerous mission. All too soon, Four is called to accompany 8 others on a holy quest. He sets out determined to save the world and his best friend. 

And that’s Four 😭 goodness that ended up a lot longer than I expected. 

Please, and I’m begging 🙏🙏🙏, let me know what you think, your own headcanons, critiques, questions, ANYTHING. And who you’d like to see next! 

Thank you 💕

[blissfulbluee]

Gi-hun whump: - Gi-hun lets himself get hurt and hurts himself because he thinks he deserve it. - I hc Gi-hun that he hallucinates Ali, Sae-byeok, Sang-woo, and other dead people he sees. And worse...Gi-hun hallucinates Ga-yeong and Oh-Malsoon; whenever he saw them or hear them (dreams or not), he cries and cries, bunch of 'sorry's and bunch of self-blame since he failed as a son and as a father. - He doesn't let himself be loved or cherished because he thinks and feels he doesn't deserve it. - If Gi-hun survives and gets to reunite with his daughter, he would have a hard time to tell if she was real or just a hallucination, he couldn't even look at her in the eyes, in the end he just isolates himself. - Gi-hun forgets to sleep, drink, and eat for days to the point he collapses on the floor. (Evidence? Ask Jun-ho, Mr. Kim, and Woo-seok)

Omg anon hello and thank you.. these are so good. I enjoy Gi-hun being miserable a little too much. I hope you don’t mind me adding on!! if you have any more please send them my way!!

!!Tw in general but also pretty detailed self harm will be mentioned!!

1. Gi-hun being utterly reckless with his own life as a form of self harm feels so accurate sometimes. He is just so impulsive, and he can’t be doing well. He feels so at blame for everything, that sometimes he feels like he has it coming to him.

I havent seen the topic of him harming himself being explored very commonly, probably because its a bit more real and relatable to some. I think Gi-hun would feel so many emotions sometimes and would feel like there is no way to escape it, so he takes a cigarette to his own arm or purposely scratches his own skin into oblivion.

2. i also headcanon hallucinations like this. he had one in s1 with the strike ptsd, he’d definitely have it now. i feel like they go like you mentioned, which read hurts to think about. he feels so haunted by what happened. imagining him hallucinating his daughter despite her being alive, possibly because he feels like he lost her in a way too. OUCH.

sometimes i feel like his dreams or hallucinations attempt to bring him comfort. he doesn’t really get that anywhere so its so bittersweet to imagine his brain supplies in dreams/hallucinations of the ones he lost..

3. DUDE augh… in s2 i can def see this..especially since i think any type of close relationship gihun could have now would be rocky due to the state hes in or the trauma hes faced. not that it would be toxic or horrible, just it would be overwhelming and take more work since its been so long

imagining him not allowing anything good in his own life such as love. i feel like this soo could be true because he feels like he fails everyone he loves. he knows that everyone is capable of giving and receiving love, but its so hard for himself sometimes because it feels like he’s had to let go of love so many times in his life. if he didn’t feel like he would burden them, fail them, and disappoint them, then maybe he would accept it. he has so much blood and responsibility on his hands, so he feels he shouldn’t allow love to enter his life when he doesn’t deserve it, when he needs to focus on ending the games

imagine someone trying to hard to be let in but he refuses it because of this. he needs it and wants it desperately, but he becomes his own enemy there

4. oh god.. this one is so whumpy. him wanting to make his attempts to being a good father but not being able to even tell if she was real?? him isolating himself because he isnt sure and doesn’t want to cause any more damage??? this is crazy i love it. he would feel as if he’s going insane.

him trying to hide his disorientation to seeing her just in case she is real…

5. OH MY GOD!!! this one feels so real. those are things he already does in canon so it going that far is likely. he both forgets and doesn’t care enough about his health to take care of himself. i want to take him home and nurse him back to health like he’s my foster animal.

the fact that those three could have witnessed it. they would feel shocked and a little confused. they don’t know him well but they’re human so they’d definitely help him in ways they could. imagine the guys who used to beat you up are now concerned for your well being because youre that bad at taking care of yourself LMAO.

imagine this happening in the games too and the other players having to take care of him. jung bae would soo get onto him for not accepting the spoon plane lol..

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

The Importance of Agency and Autonomy: On Mel Medarda and Casca

*TW: Discussions of Rape and SA

When I first watched Arcane half a year ago, season 2's council room scene was a standout to me. Almost immediately I recognised the scene as a critique of how women have been dispossessed of their own suffering and pain in media for the sake of their male counterparts. This, of course, brought to mind, Casca, one of the most famous victims of this depersonalisation. Casca's rape at the hands of Griffith is a complete power play done only to torture Guts. This is a narrative truth further emphasised by the images used to communicate the story. Both that, in film and in manga turn Casca into a spectacle to be witnessed, she is an object of rape rather than a victim of it; rather than a person.

Then we have around three decades later, Mel Medarda who similarly to Casca is in very close proxmimity to a very intense friendship between two of her allies; to put it lightly. Jayce and Viktor, and Griffith and Guts have very superficial commonalities with Beserk being excessively more horrific, violent and disturbing. But their are still connections to be made. Viktor and Griffith the altering of their bodies to seek power. Jayce and Guts intelligence, strength and perseverance not to mention their tendency to self-sacrifice and their tenderness with the ones they love. Mel and Casca's presumed stoicness until their softness is revealed. They're different in more ways than they are similar still there are enough similarities to assess how the arcane scene compares to Beserk's.

The Arcane scene begins with Mel entering the council room, she reunites with Jayce, who is not very welcoming, seeing that she has become a mage he correctly figures that she is the reason that they survived the council room bombing that had happened previously, he then asks if she let the others die on purpose to which she stutters through a rebuttal. They back and forth, until Viktor arrives, seeking a rekindling of his and Jayce's partnership. Jayce rejects this and initiates the fight. Viktor is in a new form however and is incredibly inhumanely agile, he leaps across the room and eventually ends up in right beside, Mel. Their interaction is short. She puts up a shield of magic but clearly struggles to maintain her exertion is clear. Viktor watches her keenly, Jayce watches with wide eyes from a distance (presumably shocked at the sight of her magic). Viktor reaches through the shield, when its clear he's about to break through that is when Jayce blasts him, knocking him away.

Mel faints but regains consciousness and remains out of commission for Jayce and Viktor's one on one until she hits Viktor again with her magic and Jayce blasts him at the same time which short circuits Viktor's new body and destroys in permanently. Now comparatively this is substantially lighter material but I still think it incredibly important that Mel maintains all her power and agency throughout this scene. Her exhaustion is her own, Jayce of course reacts in worry, but Mel is framed in such a way that encourages the viewer to wonder about how she'll deal with this sitatution, will she persevere?will she get her strength back? The central question is never how is this impacting Jayce or how does Jayce feel seeing this happen to Mel.

Even the way Viktor approaches/attacks Mel in this scene emphasizes her as individual, he mentions things specific to her "the noxian has other intentions" which could refer to her or her mother. "The arcane stirs within you" as he witnesses her show of power in a way that even defines her as an equal, he does not seek to dominate, belittle or harm her in any capacity to taunt Jayce even though he could, especially in that moment where he apprehends Jayce, he could attack Mel when she's down but he doesn't. There is such keen meticulous and successful attempt for Mel to be the sole owner of her struggle, beyond this scene too, in the greater scheme of the narrative.

Mel is a character who has utter ownership of her body throughout the entire series. She is a triumph in this way. She is a denunciation of how womens' agency and autonomy has been historically trodden all over in media.

[abyssal-debonair]

“Masculinity and patriarchy are one in the same” is one of the ideological pillars of patriarchy. It frames masculinity as something that can only be affirmed via a dominance relation and renders all forms of counter-hegemonic masculinity invisible. Ceding that territory to patriarchy only serves to erase the butches, trans mascs, trans men, nonbinary people, etc. who explore and live out subversive forms of masculinity. We would be far better served by understanding masculinity as something that patriarchy attempts to capture, rather than something it inherently owns, therefore shifting our understanding of masculinity away from seeing it as a component of the enemy and towards understanding it as continuously contested territory. Patriarchy attempts to enclose masculinity, rigidly define it, tie it to domination and control, and punishes all unsanctioned expressions of it. This capture is not inherent nor is it complete. Trans and gnc people have been undermining that project since it began! Many of the positions explored above take for granted that masculinity is a real and consistently definable phenomena: invented, made material, and defined by patriarchy alone. They assume that patriarchy’s word on masculinity has been the only real word, cis men’s understanding of it the only real understanding of it, its deployment in rigid gender roles its only possible manifestation. Cis men have been at the wheels of centralized power and thus have had more means to make their own voices drown out the rest of us, but subversive masculinities have always been here, have always been a threat to the patriarchal narrative. Many also assume that when queer and trans people refer to masculinity we are always referring to a masculinity that at least gains its meaning from patriarchy. It is time to inform you that your imagination up until this point has been disastrously stifled. Certainly, popular conceptualizations of hegemonic masculinity are inherently patriarchal and gain their meaning from that system. However, it is too far to assume that trans people are always referring to the same framework of masculinity that cis men do. We create our own meaning even as we expand masculinity to the point of meaninglessness. I take testosterone and am seeking top surgery to affirm my womanhood. Glitter, dramatic eyeliner, platform boots, and extremely slutty deep-V shirts validate my sense of my masculinity as much as work boots and button-ups do. Some of us are simply not referring to patriarchal masculinity when we are doing masculinity and what we’re doing is not new. Not only is masculinity not inherently patriarchal: masculinity is not inherently anything at all! Masculinity, femininity, and all gendered terms are vibes-based only and vibes are always changing with people and context! They are not real! Their utility is in play and self-exploration and any insistence of inherent reality beyond that will itself necessarily refer to patriarchy.

read the entire essay by Lee Shevek (@butchanarchy) — she does an excellent job breaking down the problem with conflating masculinity with patriarchy, especially how that leads to vilifying masculine people who are harmed by the patriarchy.

[insaincat]

Family Trauma CRK Fic

New CRK Au! I'm calling it 'Family Trauma' AU. Might make it a partner au to the 'Extract' AU, to sorta explain the absolute insanity that PV's mental illness stems from.

This is also what happens when you put a person whose stressed TF out and keeps having insomnia on workdays (I went to do the doctors today hopefully the new meds will help).

Maybe I'll make a part 2 with SMilk telling the beasts about it and a story about how Recluse would have viewed Beast-Yeast 7/8 with this au.

Warnings about au: Dead Dove for the fact that it's about severe child abuse with the ancients' childhoods. It does end well!

Please do not read if you are triggered by any of the following:

-Sexual Truama

-Physical Abuse

-Child Abuse

-A combination of those three things

-Self Harm

-Slavery

-S*icide attempt(s)

-Murder

-Eating Disorder

-Body Dysmorphia

-Heavy mentions of Grooming

-Transphobia

We're going off the deep end!

We start off at Pure Vanilla's home. Its clear that White Lily lives with him as a partner and Shadow Milk lives there half of the time, still being a beast and all. They have twins, looking like Vanilla and Shadow as Lily didn't want to mix in her fey cookie dough into the kids. This visibly worried Vanilla but Shadow Milk didn't know why.

Years later, when the kids are in school, they all start to notice them pull away and eat less. Their doctor is concerned, and CPS gets called but everything comes back clear. Vanilla starts freaking out, but Lily calms him down. It could be something, or it could be a kid thing. They look into it and know they will be there for them no matter what. Shadow Milk is still confused, but thinks its kids being brats. That's what he did when he was their age. Refuse to eat when mad, that sort of thing.

Everything comes to a head when the healer twin gets sick from it, and Pure Vanilla (despite promising not to) uses his awakened form to check out their stats, only to quickly flicker out, collapse, and started to breath rapidly while chanting like a mantra "itsmyfaultitsmyfaultitsmyfault". Takes them awhile and an auto-heal (it's in game I'ma just use it) but eventually Vanilla falls asleep clinging to both.

And finally, Lily clears up everything.

Pure Vanilla has anorexia, something he's been taking medication for. He doesn't look it, since he uses medication to help keep the weight on and now eats regularly, but it was a serious problem in his childhood. And it seems it's been passed on to the twins.

All of the ancients have mental issues and past Truama. Some of them are taking medications, some prefer remedies and religion, others decide they can deal with it on their own. But they all have each other, and that's what got them through every day. The Soul Jams helped lessen the burden considerably, but ultimately it was the love and care they held for each other that got them through. Especially when they didn't have their Soul Jams yet, when they had the scare that brought them all to realize how fragile life was.

And she starts the story.

Pure Vanilla Cookie was born to loving parents and lived his youngest childhood as a shepherd. He was a very happy kid, despite the trials of being blind from birth. Kids who disliked different cookies couldn't stay hating him, he was just too kind and sweet. Even wolves that would prey on sheep would give their belly for him. And at this time his little habit of occasionally forgetting to eat was just seen as such. Forgetfulness. Even he saw it as so. Busy tending to sheep and dreaming the day away while practicing magic. He found Vanilla Orchid during this time.

The Blueberry academy is where it started to turn, and where White Lily had met him the first time. It wasn't super noticeable at first, but she had noticed his lack of appetite when no one else did. Though their first bond was of forbidden books, she'd been wanting to reach out to him for weeks. She, herself, would occasionally starve herself but for different reasons. She hoped he was a shy eater. As they spent more time together, she realized this was not the case. Whether he was doing it on purpose or not, she didn't know. She wanted to focus on him, to help him, but she often squirmed in her own skin. Still, she did her best to keep him fed.

As she got older, Pure Vanilla helped her realize that she was a girl, and that there were spells to adjust one's dough just enough to be feminine in detail. Vanilla, by this point, was on the fast track to becoming one of Earth-Bread's most powerful healers, so he was able to help her transition, something her father would not approve of, but he wasn't there right now. They continued their studies like this. Lily would cast a spell to shift her dough a bit more, Vanilla would heal her from any bad effects, and Lily would keep him fed.

After school they separated. She only knew of Pure Vanilla's wondering and teachings to help every cookie he came across from other's accounts.

It's here we separate from her narrative. We see Pure Vanilla staring at himself in a reflective pool using Vanilla Orchid's borrowed sight. His robes were discarded for a bath. He was thin, much thinner than we last saw him. He frowned and placed Orchid by the water's edge. He had been skipping meals, only having a few a week. It was fine though. They didn't have enough rations otherwise. He was the only one who could do this. His healing would keep his body moving and his mind somewhat working. He couldn't die of starvation, likely, his auto-heal would kick in when he was near passing out. He wondered if one day that would make him a walking corpse. He was hungry, but the pain was dull. It was always dull. But these people needed the food more. He'd put his needs aside.

We come back to White Lily's story. She was attending University. Full scholarship thanks to her own hard work. She met Pure Vanilla there again, his cheeks a bit hollow. She knew then she'd have to step in again. He wore more black now, an oversize quilted robe instead of a fit one. His sleeves and pants were puffy, as if to hide him, but he still looked neat so maybe it wasn't too bad. And freshman year passed in a blur. She kept him fed as they both excelled (for her through sheer willpower and for him through being a god damn genius). He started to falter in their second year, accepting her food less, and becoming a bit sluggish. The second semester of their second year Vanilla all but collapsed. like a doll with its strings cut, but standing still. He was moving just fine, but his speech was little and slurred, and his grades tanked. Vanilla Orchid would occasionally freak the fuck out until eventually she insisted, they see a professional.

But the issue here is that at this time, medicine was still a rising practice. Mental illness was a new concept and many were misdiagnosed.

So taking him to a doctor she heard in horror something that Pure Vanilla fully expected. "He's fine. Just a bit Ill, but it'll pass. He'll gain back his appetite." She had seen his BONES during the exam. Pure Vanilla was a walking carcass being kept alive by his own magic. He could hardly function. And she may haven't been giving him full course meals, but it should've been enough to keep something, anything on him! Unless... Unless it was just coming right back up. And he just thanked the doctor. Said he was probably right. He'd rest for a week, and everything would be back to normal.

She realized then, that just like her, no one believed him.

She pulled them through the rest of the semester and dropped out.

It was in search for a healer who would give a shit that they met the others. Holiberry and Golden Cheese had already been working together (they met during a raid to free captives that Golden Cheese was ALREADY DOING when Holiberry just walked RIGHT THE FUCK IN) and then met Dark Cacao soon after. White Lily enlisted their help to find a way to get Pure Vanilla functioning again, as Lily was all but dragging him around at this point (he was too weak to do more than heal despite how that drained him). And they did. They managed to find an herbal remedy that would make one hungry again thanks to Dark Cacao's homeland. And they were able to watch Vanilla regain a part of him that had been missing for several months.

Now, Lily had a massive crush on Vanilla (and vice versa. It's how he found out being Bi isn't something every cookie does), but she only had romantic feelings. She held no sexual attraction for men, much preferring females. So, while seeing the budding romance between Cacao and Vanilla did hurt, she'd rather see them happy and find her own eventual partner than sulk around for something she thought couldn't be (spoiler: it could). Those two seemed to fit right into each other.

The group traveled for a while, half out of concern for Pure Vanilla as he was still at risk, and part because they had become like family. But all things must come to an end. They had to return home. Holi had to check and make sure her estate was still standing, Golden Cheese needed to work more on freeing other slaves and captives, Dark Cacao would see if his kingdom was still functioning despite the corrupt court running it, and White Lily had to go home to see her mother. She'd take Pure Vanilla, of course.

It was only at most two months and they had all regularly checked in with one another at least once a week. Holi had joined Cheese in freeing people, Cacao was secretly planning to tear down his kingdom from the inside out, replacing it with his own in a new part of the country, and Lily and Vanilla had gotten an apartment near the college. She was tutoring while studying witches and pretty much anything she could get her hands on. Vanilla was a healer and a teacher at the local church, despite not sharing any of their faith. Everyone was doing well.

Out of White Lily's narrative once more, we watch Dark Cacao plan to surprise his lover with a gift and an early visit. He had only told White Lily of it, so she left the door unlocked for him. Coming up on the apartment door he sees something odd poking from under the gap. A leaf. The leaf wiggles and nudges at the floor, as if trying to escape. He narrows his eyes suspiciously before recognizing the color and shape belonging to that of Vanilla Orchid. He opens the door cautiously to find the Orchid staff on the floor, trying to wiggle about. He didn't know much about the staff other than its shared sense and history with Pure Vanilla, and the fact that they would wiggle their petals and leaves while snaking vines around Vanilla's wrist when he shares his magic with them. He picks them up and asks "What are you doing on the floor?". Their response is looking back and forth between him and the bedroom door, everything straining in that direction.

Immediately Dark Cacao's alarm bells are going, but he doesn't want to scare Pure Vanilla if it's nothing. He knocks on the door and calls for him as Vanilla Orchid's vines struggle on the door's lock. Why was it locked? There was no response. Those alarm bells are getting louder. The door opens. Pure Vanilla is in bed looking like he's having a pleasant enough dream. He's just asleep, ok. Good. Everything is fine. But a bottle on the desk catches his attention. It's empty.

We come back to White Lily's narrative. She bursts through the hospital room to find an awake Pure Vanilla Cookie. She had been later than she'd like, seeing her mother in another town and messenger birds could only fly so fast, even emergency ones. She had been so very careful, she thought he was getting better! She had kept him on a good diet, made sure he took the herbs that Dark Cacao sent every two weeks, kept him from bringing it all back up (he never did it voluntarily, it just happened). But she had missed something. He nearly died from it. Thankfully his healing factor kicked in, curing him from what his body identified as poison. Was that what had happened? Did his body think the herbs were harming it and started to self-heal? Had he been sneaking away when she wasn't looking to vomit food so she wouldn't know? So, she didn't have to sorry that it wasn't working??

Was he really in so much pain that he tried to stop it the only way he knew how?

He wasn't there sitting on that bed, not really.

She sobbed on him and blamed herself. Because she wasn't there when he needed her most. Because she couldn't help him get better. Because she had failed him.

The other three arrived the next day, they had all planned to get together that week but pushed it when they got the news. They read the letter together and wept.

The letter basically went as such:

I love you all but the pain is too much. I didn't mention it.. ever... But my healing only keeps me alive. It doesn't stop the pain I feel when I walk or talk. It hurts to stand and move and think. I can't continue like this. I seem to flush out anything I'm given, and I can't seem to eat anymore. I may be giving up, but that doesn't mean I don't see what you've done for me. You are all so wonderful and I know you'll do great things. You've all done your best so don't blame yourself.

Love you all,

Pure Vanilla Cookie.

.

.

White Lily heard a shrill scream. It woke her and everyone else up. There was a trill of a whistle and nurses and guards rushed into the room where Pure Vanilla was being held. She pushed past them with great difficulty and aid from Dark Cacao. Two brute looking cookies held Pure Vanilla's small frame on the shoulders who sat and stared dead ahead. His eyes were lifeless. As if there were none to begin with.

When all of the staff left after chaining Pure Vanilla to the bed's rail the doctor came in and looked at the charts. And he said this:

"Sleeping Pills, huh? Your friends say you have an eating disorder, but we both know that only women get those. Probably miscounted." He tossed the papers to the side. "And I'll get you unchained soon. I understand you were just looking for the bathroom, yes? You mistook the open window for it."

White Lily's eyes went white with rage and everyone else just stood back stunned. But then Pure Vanilla said something. Something that made her fall into Holi. The one lie Pure Vanilla had ever told in his entire life.

"Yes. Your right. I mistook the window for the bathroom. As you know, I am blind. I didn't know it was left open. I'm sorry."

The room was stunned into silence. The doctor nodded and turned away, talking about discharge papers until White Lily tackled him with a ear peircing scream that could bring death to the land of the living as she took the end of her staff and rammed the end into the man, over and over, only stopping until Holiberry pulled her off. She nearly killed him with her staff. She was then banned (and later to be sued) from the hospital. But jokes on them, Golden Cheese could fly her around.

The window remained locked for the remainder of his stay, but he never stopped looking in that direction.

When they got home, they knew this wasn't going to get better. Pure Vanilla had gone unresponsive, either just sitting there with no expression and dead eyes or being asleep where he looked a bit more at peace. White Lily stayed with him the entire time, terrified of what would happen if she looked away for even a second. Dark Cacao laid on the other side only switching out with Holi when needed. Vanilla Orchid stayed laid against a corner wall to keep an eye on everything. A place they could easily collapse off of and make the most amount of noise if they saw Pure Vanilla taking a turn for the worst. Vanilla was only keeping small amounts of food down and liquids, so they kept him on that diet while taking turns caring for him.

He didn't want to be a burden.

After weeks of this, they knew something had to change. And it started with Holiberry.

"I used to be a really rowdy kid, when I was real little." She said quietly, the quietest anyone had ever heard her.

"No shit." Golden Cheese rolled her eyes but paused when she saw the tears peaking out.

"They sent me to my uncle, so I could learn from him and his daughter." Her tears rolled down her cheek and Golden Cheese walked over, placing a hand on her back and rubbed to sooth her. "They ignored me for a while and it scared me. I thought I'd been abandoned. But one day.. one day he took me aside and told me if I loved him, he'd love me too. That I'd-id play with him." She tried to wipe tears that wouldn't stop, the room inhaled at the implication. "H-he wouldn't stop. No one believed me. Not even my parents when they visited. My cousin said it was just how he showed he cared. She did it too. That we were... connected because of this. We were family now." She sniffled and decided to let her crocodile tears flow. "He didn't stop." She whispered, barely heard through sniffles and hiccups. "Not until he died." And she fell silent.

Golden Cheese hugged her from behind and White Lily grappled her with a sob. They stayed quiet like that for a moment, her crushing words sinking in. The reality of it all.

"My village was crushed as a child. Couldn't have been any older than three, four? I don't remember." Golden Cheese lifted her head. "All the women and children were sold. Me, included. I was passed around as a shit version of a gift for awhile till I found myself in a brothel. It was great, actually. I didn't need to be the entertainment. Just do my job as an assistant. Get the girls ready, clean up, serve refreshments and what-not. And even though I wasn't part of the attraction, everyone seemed to love me. Workers and customers alike. They'd praise me, give me extra money. I think some thought I'd be going into the business and wanted to help groom me. Would've worked too. I was respected and loved. I had found a home. But then the country was invaded and once again I was the only one left." Her expression changed from longing to anger and hatred. Her teeth clenched and grated as her eyes grew wild and furious, like a goddess who would smite any who dared to look at her wrong. "I vowed to get my vengeance. To create a place where people like me could live free and without care. Where they could indulge in their desires without fear of being trapped and killed or turned into a slave." She growled, looking much like a lioness rather than an eagle her wings perceived her to be.

"That's what we've been doing." Holi said after blowing her nose on a handkerchief Lily had given her. "Working on freeing slaves and building an army."

"That's amazing." Lily marveled before looking down. "My story is nothing like yours." She muttered but Holiberry just placed a large hand on her small shoulder and smiled.

"It's not a competition. We're sharing because we care. We want him to know he's not alone in this fight. He's got family to back him up. He always will."

Lily looked to Vanilla who sat on the bed against it's frame, motionless. She took a breath and started on a story Pure Vanilla knew well, despite having only told him once.

"My father used to beat me and my mother. Ever since I can remember, he'd come home drunk and throw things at us. Sometimes he'd drink at home, but then he'd have a bottle to use and mom would always end up bloody." Her face felt hot and cold all at once. She was admitting to a close guarded secret that she only told one person since she started at the academy, all those years ago. "When he wasnt drunk, he was the most wonderful man we'd ever know. During those times I could see why she married him. But as I got older, it got worse. I um... I.." She sniffled and scratched at the wrappings on her arms, gaining Holi's attention who whispered "Oh, love" and took her into her arms.

Lily tried not to cry again, she really did. She didn't want to make this all about her, especially after hearing what both Holiberry and Golden Cheese had gone through, but her hug reminded her of her mother's when she'd come into her room with a bleeding head and several cuts and hugged her while singing a broken song until she fell asleep. Her mother supported her when she came home from four years at the academy as a woman, while her father dragged her by the hair and threw her out. Her mother tried to come for her, but the man just threw her back like a rag doll and slammed the door closed. She was alone for a long time after, having to stay at an orphanage kind enough to keep her despite her age. Only at the University did she find her mother again, the women now in prison for killing her husband and was claimed as a psychotic killer, despite the obvious signs of abuse. "They never believed me." She couldn't help but sob, voice heavy as was her heart. "They never believed me when I told them it was him. And they locked mom away for defending herself. A-and she-" she buried her head into Holi's neck. "-she blames herself!"

Holiberry rocked her as she whispered sweet nothing's with wet cheeks. Cheese reached over and ran a hand through her hair and hummed. By the Witches did she love them so much!

Once she had managed to leave her sobbing behind, she curled into Holi who continued to rock her. The point that this woman continued to love despite the abusive 'love' she endured for who knows how long was awe inspiring. She was truly the heart of them. Dark Cacao waited for her to settle before speaking.

"You know I'm the Tenno of a corrupt system. My mother had me and placed me there to puppet. Didn't have my own life or my own will. Didn't even notice it until I read The Art of War, of all things. Started to make me think about how we were treating our army, our people. When I tried to use what I learned, I noticed I had no say. My mother would scold me like a child and tell me she knew better. That I was just a child." He said calmly, as if being born into being used without any thoughts was something he had made peace with. "I started to realize I couldn't do anything, that I was a toy on a high seat." He looked down and sighed. "I gave up. My life was not mine. I would be used until I was no longer useful. My bride would be my mother's choice, and my child would be taken from me to be raised as her next king on the throne. One day I decided I would not let her do as she wished. She held no love for me, nor anyone. Only the throne. She wasn't my mother, and I wasn't her son." He looked up again, eyes closed and relaxed, as if reliving the day he spoke of and finding acceptance in his actions, no regret. "I found myself on the tip of my sword, at peace." He opened his eyes, "Then I realized I was chicken shit and backed out."

Holi gasped and Lily gaped. Cheese only blinked and smirked, asking what the all wanted to know. "What did you do then?"

Eyes half lidded, brow furrowed and a devilish smirk on his lips he said in a low base tone, "I killed her."

There was a bark of laughter and everyone turned to see Pure Vanilla rolling to his side, clutching his stomach laughing, eyes peaked with tears. "You killed her-!! Said it so simply!!" He clutched his stomach tighter as he tried not to laugh only to fail horrifically and then gasp in pain only to start all over again. "Oh, witches! Laughing hurts!!" Dark Cacao's smirk grew as he leaned against the wall, satisfied that he had been the one to bring his lover out of his trance, even if it technically was a group effort.

The women blinked before letting their laughter burst forth. Because yeah. Dark Cacao said one of the most gruesome things in the most plain and silly manner. Then Holi dropped Lily into Vanilla and tackled them with ticklish fingers, refusing to let go of the renewed atmosphere after weeks of being scared of the next day. They would be ok. As long as they were together.

From the corner we see separate from White Lily's vision, Vanilla Orchid finally resting their eyes. They would be fine.

.

.

Shadow Milk Cookie had schooled his face long ago to complete neutrality as White Lily Cookie told her tale. They sensed no lies in her words. Had they been unable to feel lies being told his way, they'd just assume as such. But she wasn't. Or at least she believed them to be the truth. But also, WHEN THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN?!?!?! They were watching the entire time!! (Answer: when They were making DCPV fanart in his cell)

"Once we got our SoulJams, everything seemed to settle. Medication started working again, and when I returned to Crispia for the first time since... I was made to take a mental and physical test. It was long and... weirdly not as violating as I thought, but by the end of it they had plenty of results that helped me." She continued. "I started taking medication for my depression and even started therapy! It took a while to breach the subject of my father, but we got there, and she believed me!" She smiled brightly. "I'd have never thought things would progress so far in so little time. I mean... It's been awhile. But not really, in the grand scheme of things." She smiled brightly, her eyes squinting up as her cheeks became round like apples. "Things have improved so much, Shadow Milk! Its truly amazing!"

It was, and honestly, sometimes it scared them sometimes. The cookies of today were growing too fast.

"When he came to the Holiberry kingdom with Ginger Brave and his friends, they got him the help he needed right away. Holi said he was starting to visibly spiral, but they managed to get him medication to at least regulate his appetite until they could find better medication that fit him. I heard he was trying something when he found me. "

Shadow Milk thought for a moment, then remembered Recluse and how easily he fell into despair. They had thought, at the time, that they had been the cause. What if it wasn't them. What if it had always been there, just kept locked away with a poorly made chain and a flimsy key? What if being in their presence just made the despair resurface faster? And didn't that mean he had the medication when they met? They paused and paled.

"That medicine you said they had... It wouldn't happen to be the one he had when we met and after, did it?"

Lily looked away for a moment before turning back to smile at them. "The one you threw away. Yes." HE TOLD HER?!?!

"THATS WHY HE KEEPS BRINGING IT UP?!" the cookie in her lap winced and she shushed him. WITCHES FUCKING DAMN IT. HE DIDNT DO SHIT AFTER ALL!!! Their street cred!!!

"That was Candy Apple! I didn't know nutthen about no pills!" They defended with a finger at her chest.

"Would've died if not for that, though." Vanilla muttered; face full of Lily's hair he'd been clutching when he fell asleep. "Was able to float cuz of it." he let go of her hair and snuggled into her stomach which made her giggle.

"Ok, ok. It worked out, that's nice and all" NO ITS NOT THEIR STREET CRED!!! "But what does that have to do with the girls?"

"Recent studies show that mental illnesses can be passed down through generations. Its.. quite possibly literally baked into their dough."

Shadow Milk frowned. "Bull."

Vanilla sat up and stared at the wall with a look they hadn't seen in some years. It was the look Truthless Recluse would wear day in and day out. They had fallen in love with that face, but they had also fallen in love with the original and the new. Seeing this again... it hurt, and Shadow Milk didnt know what to do about that.

"I saw it in their status, it said [inherited]. I did this."

White Lily opened her mouth to protest before closing it to reconsider her words. She then wrapped her arms around him and lay her head on his shoulder. "We'll figure this out." Pure Vanilla did not acknowledge her, his spiral into despair growing more and more.

"I think this is all bullshit. Buuuttt. I guess it wouldn't hurt to try this... medicine thing you were talking about." Both looked to them in surprise as they glided back through the room, lounging with their arms crossed to hold his head. Shadow Milk cookie both liked and hated the new ways. They liked the freedom cookies had now, the new advances and new ways to lie and cheat. But they also hated it. Part of them was stuck in the past and getting it's foot out of there was going to be a grueling task.

But if they were willing to try, for their children, then maybe it would be ok.

Pure Vanilla's face softened.