#what can I say I crave validation

[syoish-aot]

"I Found You (too)" - EREN/READER - REINCARNATION AU (chapter 1)

sequel to "I Found You" (which you're going to want to read first or you'll be very confused)

Eren/Reader

post canon, reincarnation AU

memory loss

word count: 1650 

CH 2 ->

“Is this heaven…”

Eren’s eyes widen as the words come spilling out of your mouth:

“...Mr. Kruger?”

Everything felt like a dream…

Which you found odd considering how when you normally woke up everything was a nightmare.

But not this time… this time it was a dream. A wonderful, peaceful, happy dream.

And because of that, you were going to enjoy every moment of it.

“What’s that?” You excitedly asked Mr. Kruger as you pointed to the strange object at the further end of the room. It looked like a picture frame but it was glowing like a light! 

“It’s the TV.” Mr. Kruger said.

“Tee… vee…” You repeated slowly before you gasped. “It’s amazing…”

“Um... yeah it’s- it’s pretty cool.” 

“And what’s that!” You excitedly asked again.

“A microwave.” Mr. Kruger told you.

“That!?”

“The fridge.”

You continued to dart around the apartment pointing at all the new sights around you and asking for explanations of what they were. It was amazing! Everything was amazing!! It was all so shiny and clean, the complete opposite of the grimy life that you were used to. 

As you buzzed around the apartment, Eren’s eyes followed you.

He knew how you felt right now. Exactly how you felt, actually; because he’d experienced the same thing just that morning. He’d also woke up, completely confused about where and when he was, until his memories of his past life and his current life meshed together and everything (for the most part) made sense again.

That was supposed to be the end of the confusion. He was supposed to remember and then he could move on and enjoy his second life, just like his friends had.

And yet…

“So what is this place?” You asked, finally coming to a stop in front of him. You placed your hands behind your back, smiling up at him with your eyes wide and practically sparkling with excitement.

It made his heart hammer against his chest.

“Well uh- it’s-... it’s where you live.” He awkwardly told you.

“I live here!!” 

“Uh- yeah…” Eren cleared his throat. “And… I- I do too.”

Your eyes widened. “You do too?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Well uh-” Eren looked away from you and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure how much was safe to say. He knew how confusing it would be if he threw too much information at you at once and he had a feeling that confusion would do more harm than good. His friends had taken things slowly with him, so he figured he should do the same with you. After all, he now knew firsthand that it just took a little bit of time for the memories of this life to mesh with the memories of the past. All he had to do was wait it out. Right?

“Is it the same here?” You suddenly asked him.

“Is… Is what the same?”

“Do I take care of you here too?” You asked softly, causing a rush of heat to run up Eren’s spine.

“Y-Yeah...” He stuttered before he could think of anything else to say.

To be fair, it wasn’t a complete lie. You were his girlfriend so you did take care of him sometimes. You made dinner when he worked late. Cleaned the apartment on your days off. Got on his ass about not matching his socks on laundry day. 

But he took care of you too. He mopped after you swept. Made sure the dishwasher ran when it was full. Watered the (overpriced and half-dead) plants you kept insisting on buying from the supermarket anytime you got groceries.

It was a partnership. And it had been for the last six years.

“Hm…” You hum softly in reply as you continue to smile up at him and a glimmer of something- something familiar- flickers in your eyes. “It feels the same.” You tell him.

Eren isn’t sure what you meant by that, but he’s a little too intimidated to ask.

Especially when your eyes flick left, then right, then left again as you look between his own. You’re smiling, still smiling so softly as the expression on your face becomes so familiar but still so new.

He’s seen the look before.

Not here, but before.

In another time. In another life. Under different circumstances that made being close to you like this impossible. 

“It’s probably time for bed, isn’t it?” You asked him as you pulled away. “Do you need me to help you change?”

Eren’s heart leapt into his throat again. “N-No!” His cheeks flushed crimson. “I can um- I can do that myself.”

You laughed and it made his heart flutter.

Just like it always did and just like it always had- even in that brightly lit hospital room in Liberio…

Hot.

It was always so hot in the middle of summer.

The heat made you feel sluggish, especially in combination with the thick humidity in the air that was likely indicative of an upcoming storm.

It wasn’t just the heat though, there was something else in the air, the anxiety of… of… of impending doom, an undeniable end, the constant fear that something could happen in a moment’s notice that it would completely shatter everyone’s life into pieces.

You were used to that though. It was just a part of war.

So the heat.

That’s what was really bothering you.

You sighed as you leaned against the window sill, looking out across the courtyard two stories below. 

A doctor in a white hospital coat was ushering a patient inside. The old man sobbed and hollered about- honestly, you have no idea. There was no point in paying enough attention to find out. Two patients sat at a bench in hushed conversation. A delivery boy rushed through the gates with a stack of papers in his hands, the white armband he wore immediately caught your eye as it contrasted against his dark clothing. 

You brought your teacup to your lips and sipped your tea as your mind slipped off to somewhere else.

Somewhere nice.

“I hear we’re getting a new shipment today.” Your coworker Myra says, completely snapping you from your daydream as she steps up to you and leans against the other end of the window. Just like you, she stares down at the courtyard below. She snickers as she watches the doctor escorting the old man below. The doctor struggles to lift the man to his feet.

“Shipment of what?” You ask wistfully, only half paying attention to her as the rest of your mind is still swept up somewhere else.

Somewhere nice.

“Eldian devils, of course.” Your coworker sighs, the amusement now gone from her tone and replaced with boredom. “They’re coming in from Fort Slava. Probably going to be all fucked up because of it.”

“We won the war,” you point out, still only half paying attention to the conversation, “you should probably be celebrating.”

“I am celebrating.” She says as she turns away from the view and presses her back against the windowsill so she can stare into the break room instead of the courtyard. “Unfortunately, the celebration comes hand in hand with how much damn work it’s going to create for all of us.”

You sigh and give up on your daydreams. You’ll go back to them later.

“Soldiers are coming home.” You say as you look over at her. “That’s a good thing.”

Myra scoffs. “Eldian soldiers,” she emphasizes. “It’d be easier on all of us if they just died out there. Fucking devils… what a pain.”

You don't get what her deal is.

If she doesn’t want to work with Eldians, maybe she shouldn’t have taken a nursing job at an internment zone hospital.

But you don’t say that to her, there’s no point in making enemies with the one coworker that you (sort of) consider a friend.

“Oh look,” she says just in time for a large truck to pull up to the front of the hospital. A Marleyan escort drops the tailgate and a line of soldiers begin climbing from the back of the truck.

Soldiers with bandages across their chests. Limbs. Heads.

Soldiers with missing legs. Arms. Eyes. 

Soldiers that stagger forward in a line, passing through the gates of the hospital with their heads turned down, barely paying attention to the world around them and focusing more on putting one foot in front of the other (if they even have two feet to focus on, that is).

Eldian soldiers.

Straight from Fort Slava.

“Hey, you!” The Marleyan soldier escorting them calls, slamming his gun against the side of the truck.

One last Eldian pulls himself out, walking on a single leg as the rest of his body is supported with an old crutch. 

He has a bandage around his head, concealing a (likely missing) eye, with long brown hair that’s in desperate need of a trim.

You assume he wears the same expression as all of the other traumatized soldiers do when they show up at your hospital. The same bags under their eyes, frown lines etched against their face, and depressed lost look of desperation. The desperation for what? You aren’t sure. Escape. Death. Freedom. It doesn’t matter what it is, because it’s always the same.

You’ve worked at that hospital for years and it’s always been the same. 

And yet when this soldier, this Eldian soldier, crosses the courtyard below you, he’s shoved by the Marleyan that’s escorting him. He stumbles. He looks up.

That’s when you see it.

You see the look on his face.

And you see his eyes.

A stunning composition that reminds you of the night sky on a full moon- swirling blues and greens beautifully illuminated with flecks of golden stars. 

Your fingers tighten against your teacup, pressing its warmth firmly against your palms.

Hot.

It was always so hot… in the middle of summer.

[oros-ash3s]

Takes place in the RIKIYO GEUN arc

.༉‧₊˚

Atlas struggles with his mental health very heavily by the time he is 20. He is a man who is in many ways still a boy, having been thrust into a war before he could even properly speak, given no time to develop, to grow into himself. He has been groomed into this since he was 5-years-old, having all of his ideologies and opinions influenced by those who had superiority over him. By the time he is 16 he has not shed these beliefs, even if he has abandoned Eden. He carries them with him every single day, viewing Wren and Alastair as his duty as a protector first, and his friends second. He simply doesn’t know any better.

By the time he is 19 he has been kidnapped, tortured, and stripped of his memories. His identity is a huge part of who he is, and it’s one of his main struggles throughout the story. He has lived his entire life putting up a persona of who Eden wanted him to be, and when he has his memories entirely removed, he is left to wonder who exactly is he? Even after he recovers from his amnesia he doesn’t know the answer to this question, a hollow spot left inside him from the damage that Eden ensued.

Enter the Rikiyo arc.

As much as Atlas has tried his best to recover from his time under Eden’s command, it's difficult for him to properly do this when he doesn’t have any access to professional help or a strong adult support system in his life. He’s in the middle of a war that he did not have any decision over being a part of, and as something such as a war is, he is not allowed to rest for very long.

Just after he turns 20 he is called on his first big mission in over two years. He, Wren, Alastair, and the two leaders of the Alliance, Kokoa and Kau’i, are sent to infiltrate one of the Cardinal’s temples and gather intel about the Congregation of the Chosen. They’re supposed to free any humans that are being kept, and destroy the temple.

The mission is a disaster.

It in many ways is what leads to Atlas and Alastair’s inevitable fallout. Although things had already been tense between the two after Alastair’s month-long stay with a certain scientist, but this is the final nail in the coffin.

Unlike many of the other foes the trio faced together, Rikiyo is nothing like them. Because Rikiyo has her sights set on one thing and one thing only: Alastair.

Atlas is used to being the centre of attention. From the minute he was taken to Eden he was treated as this important figure, told over and over that he’s a hero. He still believes this at 20 years old, even if it is a very black-and-white way of thinking. People have always wanted something from him. Whether it be Eden, who wants him for his powers and strength, who wishes to mold him into a weapon to turn the tides of the war. Or it be the AOM, which held him to very high regard when he first arrived with Wren and Alastair. Wren and Alastair have always looked up to him, seen him as their leader. He has this notion that he still needs to be their leader, even if he’s…. changed.

But Rikiyo doesn’t even acknowledge him.

.༉‧₊˚

It is Atlas’ voice that cuts through this scene of horror: “Let me take his place.”

He is standing still, jaw set. There is a fiery light present in his eyes, a flash of foolish bravery that these four walls don’t see often. His fists are clenched and he has his chin pointed, danger flickering across his face. He stares at the woman looming over Alastair as if she is an ungodly beast — which is in a way completely true. He stares at her as if he is only seconds from marching over and ripping her limb from limb.

Alastair stiffens, an ugly feeling washing over him. He lets out a grunt of protest, a sort of angry desperation shining in his eyes, “Atlas, you don’t know—”

“Free him.” Atlas cuts him off sharply, still staring straight ahead. There is a tenseness in his brows that Alastair knows all too well, this stubborn look in his expression that tells him all he needs to know: Atlas has made up his mind and there’s nothing they can do to stop him. “Free him and take me instead. I’ll be your prisoner. You can do whatever you want to me, as long as you let him go.”

Rikiyo doesn’t bat an eye. “No.”

Her words are clipped and sharp, as if he is a lowly bug, an annoyance that is doing nothing but interrupting her from her fun. Her golden gaze is still fixed on Alastair, piercing through him as if he is a prize, or, perhaps, her next meal. She won’t turn to look in the other boy’s direction.

Atlas’ expression wavers, his anger quickly dissipating at the harshness in her answer. He blinks, his calm composure beginning to fade. It is as if he has never heard these words before, as if he didn’t even consider the idea that Rikiyo wouldn’t accept his offer. Sacrificing himself was the only option. It was what he did, what he had always done. He is supposed to be the saviour; the hero. If he is not the one enduring the suffering, then what is the point? What is his use?

“What?” He croaks, suddenly nervous. Surely he misheard her. Surely there has been some sort of mistake. There had to be. He’s supposed to save Alastair. He needs to. “I said I’ll take his place, I’ll be your servant instead—”

“And I said no.” Rikiyo doesn’t allow him to finish. Her back is still turned to him, not allowing him to even try and decipher what she’s feeling. What she’s playing at.

A small noise escapes Atlas’ throat, desperate and confused. He swallows hard, his usual level-headed tactics and calm defiance not the thing that next leaves his lips, but instead a horrified question. “Why?”

“Because,” Rikiyo cards a single slender hand through Alastair’s hair, her smile gloating; cruel. The boy shivers underneath her grip, terror freezing him in his spot. “I don’t want you.”

She says it like the answer is obvious, like even an idiot could have pieced it together. But to Atlas, it couldn’t make less sense. She’s supposed to want him. He’s stronger than Alastair, he’s more of a threat. He’s powerful. He has so much to give her.

So why doesn’t she want it?

And why does he…. Wish she did?

.༉‧₊˚

Atlas doesn’t know what to do when he isn’t wanted. He as a person has been shaped by the mentality that he needs to be wanted, needed, used, at all times. He needs to have a purpose, needs to be serving someone.

But it is the Rikiyo arc that he is completely tossed to the side. Every act of defiance is met with complete indifference. For once he is not the thing being used against others, but instead on the receiving end. If he acts out Alastair will be punished, killed.

And it is this long, tiresome month at Rikiyo’s temple that Atlas has the realization that he isn’t needed. Eden doesn’t want him anymore — he’s defected, useless. He’s no help to his friends. He can’t lead them or protect them like he used to. He’s impulsive and unstable, driven by fear that he previously thought he didn’t hold.

He isn’t a hero, or a saviour. He isn’t a good person at all. He’s a lonesome man with the blood of hundreds on his hands. He can’t do anything right, can’t even do the one thing he has always known: Fight.

He has no purpose.

.༉‧₊˚

You're free to have everything you can see

All that you want from me

Free to be all that you want to be

Do what you want with me

— Step On Me by The Cardigans

taglist \\ @ohagiwrites @bloodinkandashes @corinneglass @icantthinkofablognameatm @vesanal @inky-anathemata @bioniclechronicles @seastarblue @gr3yhellh0und @aalinaaaaaa @shadow-of-tea-and-tea @robinshandhurts @ieppiq @sugaredparchment @lunaeuphternal @ifmasonbasonwasawriter @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @blackboxwarrior-mkultra @lancedoncrimsonwings @sharkblizzardblogs @nightmaricwriter @scoundrelwithboba @cepheusgalaxy @cacophonyofwords @theink-stainedfolk

[optimismbitingmyass]

a helpful diagram

[rainy-day-revelry]

Have you ever tried to talk about an interest of yours with a person and then watched them make a face when you said the name so you panic and immediately backpedal like “That was years ago, I was a dumb kid, I know how stupid it is now, obviously” because you desperately crave the validation of other people you met 5 minutes ago? Or is that a me thing?

[welcometothemindfuckbitchesssss]

his greasy hair and white woman knit sweaters have bewitched me.

[rosemarie333]

Astrology Observations

Tropical Version (not a fully detailed exploration of certain placements)

⚠️⚠️Do not take these seriously; this is based on my observations of certain placements. This is for fun!

Sag, Leo mercuries are so both super funny, but they express it very differently. Sag are the type of say something without thinking about it fully, but Leo mercuries once they get to know you will know what makes you laugh because they know what will. Leo mercuries are hilarious when telling stories, Sag mercuries are hilarious at commentary! (E.g berlezzy and coryxkenshin have sag mercuries and they have so many memes of saying funny things impulsively)

9th house placements in benefics 🤝🏾 doing well at college even when they don't try/ 9th house placements in malefics 🤝🏾 getting a bad grade for a assignment you studied 10 hours for

For those who do have Venus in the 9th (potentially Venus in Sag), look where yout Venus/DSC line is in astrocartography and lmk if you seem to attract foreigners from there or not. I have my Venus in the 9th and my Venus/DSC is in the heart of Paris/Madrid/ and Morroco and I find a lot of my lovers are from one of those places or at least 300 miles from those cities. Maybe look with your Jupiter/DSC line to see as well as Jupiter does represent yur husband 🤭

Saturn in the 1st house being born with model features. They literally have bone structure made from heaven as well. But they might have large teeth as Saturn does rule the teeth. Some may have big jaws as well

I know many people say Libra risings are sculpted from heaven earth, which I will not deny😋, but I find that Libra risings especially born 2004-2006 grow into their looks with time. Even if they have Venus-ASC aspects.

Saturn in the 3rd 🤝🏾 will ask a lot of questions just wanting to know more about the subject of conversation and unintentionally due to that Saturn influence it can seems that they are being critcal in some form or fashion.

Venus-Neptune/ Neptune in the 7th/ Neptune in the 5th: Have a whole crafted image of their partner that is completely opposite from reality at times. They can project their fantasies onto people but when they dont meet them 🤮 goes through their mind LOL. Gotta start seeing what people are for who they are it will save heartbreak in the future💀

6th house dominants love being englufed with perfume. If you see someone with a big ass perfume collection, they probably have 6th house promience. They loveeeee smelling good!

Gemini Mercuries are so underrated when it comes to how funny they are. I swear they are so good at reading the room and saying the funniest thing at the right time.

Pisces placements (especially Pisces rising, Moon, and Mars) have to deal with so much projection on a constant basis. People will look at a Pisces and just make up a story about them and push that projection whether its for good or not onto the Pisces person and being the Neptune they are they will take it as their own. People be seeing Pisces as weak and I hate it. But onto my second point:

People naturally underestimate Pisces and Libra placements due to their easygoing, non confrontational nature, but let it be known about their opposite house (Aries for Libra and Virgo for Pisces) and what they have to deal with when they step out of that nature. I know Tyla is a Aquarius rising, but she to me is a great example of what happens when a Pisces or Libra stick up for themselves😭 People were quick to call her uppity but when she stood up for herself on Twitter, people were gagged for some odd reason??

Those with Mercury-Chiron aspects, how is your relationship with your siblings?

Leo placements (Sun, Rising, Moon) can stifle themselves due to their need of validation and praise. When they dont get the praise they were expecting (even for bomb ass ideas and such) they will forget about it and toss it to the side because they didn't get validated for it. Most Leo's do well once they stop craving validation and praise from others and start learning to trust themselves with their ideas. They unfortunately lack self trust as much as they appear to have it.

This was my detailed not detailed observations of the placements, I hope you liked it!

[prlite]

how i went from waiting weeks for results to getting instant results

(WARNING!!!! this isn't a method, don't expect a method.)

though i had been listening to subliminals since i was 10, i never really knew what they did until i hit 12 (i originally thought they were just lucky videos that give you superpowers) & started joining the community once i had realised what they were. when i first got into it, i was hit with so many rules that it confused me ‐ "drink water for this to work", "listen 5x" etc but i decided why not believe in these rules since everyone else does and eventually i started getting results.

the issue was it would take me AGES and it would also take a long time to convince myself that they were actual results (& it didnt help that i had a friend who i joyfully told about manifestation and they revealed after 3 years??? that they found it stupid and thought i was insane for believing in it...not a great time) and it annoyed me because half of the subliminals i'd use would say INSTANT RESULTS but i'd have to wait a month for anything that seemed like a result.

it wasn't until manifestation & subliminals started to take off on tiktok when i realised my problem. once manifestation started getting popular, i'd see all of these weird rules again that made zero sense to me...like how you'd have to say you're grateful every single day or else your manifestations wont occur...it confused me because i had gotten results without all of that.

and that's when i realised. oh these rules aren't rules, they're more like...advice? they can work for some people but not all people, i can manifest stuff how i want to...if i just want what i want.

there's always this focus of the key of manifestation or the key of law of assumption, the perfect way to gain all the things in the world but all you need is intention and even that is easy and once i realised that, it was like my world flipped upside down.

i remember the first time i tried to just set an intention and just leave behind logic, pressure or circumstances, i wanted a bunch of snacks cuz i was craving some but i had no money so i just sat there hoping for snacks and setting the intention that somehow i'll get snacks. within an hour, there was a knock at the door and it was a huge gift box with expensive chocolates from my brother's workplace (this was the first time and also the last time they ever did this btw & it was not like a scheduled thing, they dropped it out of nowhere) and every. single. thing. there was something that i liked which is uncommon as i'm very picky with my snacks.

and i even remember telling people in a discord server that i got an instant manifestation and what happened and someone tried to say i was lying because i didn't listen to subliminals and i didn't write it down or "verbally" set the intention which made me realise that a lot of people in the community believe that their rules are set in stone. "if they can only manifest through meditation, then anyone else who manifests without meditation is either lucky or lying" ‐ its a flawed way of thinking but they think it's valid because these rules are presented as if they are rules that cannot be broken.

manifestation works in many ways and in a way, everyone has a different perspective/understanding of it. my definition of manifestation won't be the same as your definition & my rules won't be the same as your rules. people treat it like an academic subject where there are rules & grades and set ways to do things but it's not an academic subject. if you think you manifested a snack because you found change in your pocket and went to the store and the snack was there...then you manifested it.

it's your game, your playbook, your rules. for some, every single moment in life is viewed as a manifestation and for others, it's a lot more technical and depends on specifics but the point is...you're the one choosing. you can have your own vocab, your own structure, your own routine...if you want to manifest through songs, then that's your way of manifestation.

there is no wrong or right way to manifest, there is no learning curve or studying to manifestation. if you want to study and learn about manifestation and it's origins, that's perfectly fine but you don't need to. the second you let go of the idea that manifestation is this strict way of living with rules, you'll realise how easy it is. it's all how you perceive things no matter how big or "impossible" they seem, if you think you can manifest it within a day...you can. so just go do it. no matter how, no matter why, no matter when or where, you will get what you manifest the second you set an intention so instead of worrying about the logic...just set the intention and let the rest happen.

since then i've been instantly manifesting, whether it's food or money or clothes...really anything. i haven't looked back once, it's that easy like you don't need to have it all planned out. just set an intention and let it sail off until the manifestation comes to you and if you want it instantly than it will come instantly !

prl ✶⋆.˚

[esote-rika]

lose some, win some | Spencer Reid Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut 18+, MDNI Summary: COLLEGE AU! When your debate team loses the national championship, you and Spencer return to your shared room and find a productive way to take out your frustrations. Content: Waldorf!Reader is a sore loser, lots of dialogue in the beginning, Sassy!Spencer, some talk of misogyny, Spencer makes up for it by being a munch (so f receiving oral), virgin!Spencer but he’s also a little shit, they are both little shits but it’s cute I swear, handjob, raw p in v but reader mentions she is on the pill, creampies, multiple orgasms for both of them (they’re frustrated and horny give them a break) Word count: 4.8k (it's porn with a plot for once) A/N: Not really frenemies or rivals, they’re just really angry young adults. Idk what Spencer’s actual age was in college, but he studied several times so for this fic, he’s on his third degree and is 21. If the debate stuff is incorrect, I'm sorry. I did do some research but there's so many different rules and styles lmfao. My friend who competes says it’s fine and understandable so :) also massive thanks to @just-call-me-by-yn @mggslover and @notlongtolove for helping me brainstorm and @wheresmacoffee because she was there JK  ILY ANDY their banter during the filthy part is for you <3.

Spencer Reid doesn’t particularly care about the prestige that comes with winning. Most people crave it for the validation, or because it’s another impressive thing they can slap onto their resumes, but being a genius his entire life allows him not to worry about that. His academics speak for themselves. He doesn’t need to pad it with extracurriculars. Instead, he enjoys the skills that are honed from debate—learning to listen to arguments, finding the perfect way to rebut, memorization and reviewing with like minded individuals. The university team is a well oiled machine composed of four people— him on his third degree, two other male juniors, and you, the only woman.

Over the span of two semesters, he’s memorized the quirks of his teammates. It’s essential to building rapport, after all, and he’s eager to get something good out of this. Something less academic, and more social. Friends, perhaps. While he’s formed a bond with the other members, you have always been an enigma. Stoic and ambitious, you remind him of a statue. Cold and oh so beautiful. You’ve often kept to yourself. And after several rejected attempts at friendship, he’s learned to just observe from afar.

He knows from experience that observing allows you deep insight into people, and so he knows after two semesters that you’re perhaps the most competitive out of the entire team, the most hungry for a win. This drive, he suspects, comes from a deeply rooted desire to prove yourself, though he’s unsure why. What else do you have to prove? You have everything, as far as he’s concerned. Keenly intelligent, beautiful, with a circle of friends that adore you. You aren’t like him, who has to sink his claws deep into this debate team in order to get a dose of social interaction. No, you have a life, no matter how marblesque you may seem.

And yet, somehow it’s still not enough for you.

He thinks it’s utterly ridiculous, and absolutely fascinating.

The weekend of nationals is taxing. You’ve been fighting for the opener role since the semis, but it would require too much adjustment, which no one is willing to risk so close to nationals. Not only does he not want to give up his spot, he also knows how ruthless you can be as a rebuttal speaker. He's meek, and you have a tendency to be aggressive, it's why the original roles go so well. 

Your adviser agreed, and there’s been tension ever since. 

To make matters worse, hotel arrangements somehow have placed both of you in the same room. The force of your resentment is palpable even to a normally clueless guy like him. Distracting. Pages being turned in your exaggerated annoyance. He’d complain of dramatics, but he doesn’t want to start anything. 

The fact that you’re rooming together also doesn’t help him. Sure, there are different beds, small twin mattresses on either side of the room, but still. Proximity to a woman his age has him anxious for reasons entirely unrelated to nationals. 

So when you lose the championship, his concern for your reaction behind doors overwhelms the regret of losing. 

No one is happy with the results. It is obvious from the set of his jaw, the tenseness of your shoulders. Spencer tries to calm down, accept defeat with a modicum of grace, at least in front of other people. He can tell the rest of the team is trying too, but quite unconvincingly. Onstage, accepting the medals for second place—mockingly silver, and no trophies—the team’s smiles are forced, plastic. 

Back to the hotel rooms are a different story. When you slam the hotel door shut, it echoes down the hall and makes even your debate adviser flinch. It would have made Spencer flinch too, if he hadn't already expected it. He's grown accustomed to how bad of a loser you can be. Like a tornado, your anger spares no one from its destruction. It is in these moments that your stoic resolve crumbles, no longer unfeeling, but rather fully human. Hurtful. Ruthless Unfortunately for him, he's directly in your line of fire.

He catches bits and pieces of your muttered diatribes. He’s used to those too. Normally, he would have ignored them. Losing sucks the energy out of a person, regardless of how uncompetitive he is. Besides, your ranting is mostly harmless, until one sentence snags his attention.

“— knew I should have been the opening speaker —”

He is clawing at his tie, trying desperately to get it off, but the words make him stop immediately. He whirls around, brows furrowed, “What?”

You pause as well, “What?”

“What did you say about being the opening speaker?” He watches you roll your eyes. It does nothing to calm the bitterness in the back of his throat. The normal song and dance goes like this: he’d say a string of words in an attempt to soothe the fire burning in your nerves, and you'd say something so vitriolic he'd refuse to speak to you for the rest of your time together. 

But today, having just lost the biggest championship after working so hard, he's a short fuse and your words are incendiary.

“I said I should have done it, like I asked—”

“Ah, as usual, you're mad that you didn't get what you wanted.” 

An offended scoff. He's almost proud he managed to pull that out of you. “You take too long—”

“Nationals isn't the time to suddenly alter the roles,” he tells you, shaking his head. He manages to loosen the tie, finally, tossing it on his bed with so much aggression it misses the mattress and lands limply on the floor, “I've always been the opening speaker.”

“Yes, and one would think that after going through so many debate competitions,  you would learn to be more succinct,” you snap, shoes making harsh clacks against the tiled floor, “The goal isn't to let us know you're the smartest person in the room, Spencer, it's to set up the tone and groundwork of—”

“I don't need you to lecture me about being the opening,” he interrupts, “I know what my role requires of me.”

“Do you?” Eyes flashing, you walk to him until you're almost chest to chest, “Because we still lost.”

“And you blaming me?” he hisses, leaning down. He hates doing this, stooping to your level of pettiness. Normally, he would choose to be the bigger person, refusing your verbal sparring; he likes to focus his energy on the actual debate, the opposing team, not his own teammates. But your words cut deeper than normal; it isn't the fault the team lost, that's just a flat out lie, “We advised you multiple times to memorize the statistics—”

“Something you're better at!” You look physically pained to admit his superiority, but the words spill anyway, “You'd be so much better to do the rebuttals since you have your stupid photographic memory, and I can set the tone better, but nobody on this little boys club ever listens to me!”

He's surprised at the choked tone your voice has taken. In his mind, you're a complete equal—you made it to the team through hard work and impeccable skills, like the rest of them did, after all. It didn't matter that you are a woman to him, so of course his instinct is to deny. “That’s not true.” but even his voice sounds weak. 

How would he know if it’s not true? He’s never been in your shoes before, never had to reckon with what comes with being the only woman in a team of men.

“Isn’t it?” he flinches at the venom in your voice, “You all act like I'm an afterthought—I get the shittiest positions even when I know I can be more effective in a different one, no one ever asks me for strategy, hell, you never invite me to your stupid chess games.”

His mouth opens and closes foolishly, latching on to the one thing he has a full response to, “I thought you hate chess.”

A sharp laugh, petulant and bitter, “I do, but it would have been nice to be included.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve turned around, yanking off your pristine maroon blazer so roughly he’s afraid it might rip. The silence that grows makes him itch, hands balling into fists as he tries to think of what to do. Social dynamics have always been a thing of mystery to him. 

He wonders if he is part of this problem. He’s no stranger to feeling different and on the outs, and it pains him to think that he inadvertently caused someone else to feel that same, unpleasant exclusion.

But, no. Quickly, he recalls every single time he’s tried to include you—a museum trip that you’d declined because you had a party you wanted to attend. His extra tickets to the Nutcracker.

“That’s not true,” his voice is firm now, following you until he’s standing right behind. Lavender hits his nose and his brain registers the scent of your shampoo. Definitely too close if he can smell that, but he refuses to back away, intent on getting his point across, “That’s not true, I’ve tried to— you were always too busy.”

“What, I’m a liar now?” you spin around, pretty features twisted to somehow express both anger and hurt. He almost falters. Almost. 

But he’s too worked up, even though he knows he should back off, to not trivialize your experiences in order to defend himself. He should know better than this, but the sting of your accusation spurs him on. So he pushes, eyes narrowing, “Last year, September 14, 21, and 29, I invited you to come with us for several casual chess tournaments, you declined all invitations because you claimed you hated chess. October 29th, I told you about the new exhibit they were displaying—”

“It was Halloween weekend, I already had plans—”

“December 19th, I offered you Nutcracker tickets and you said you’d already seen it—”

“I have,” your voice has grown quiet now, and if he stops speaking for a single moment to look, your features have relaxed into something gentler. But he’s on a roll, and you have always been right about things; his inability to be succinct is one of them.

“Even this year, I invited you to study multiple times, but you’ve always had prior plans,” the words are spoken with neutrality. He isn’t even angry anymore, just eager to list everything down and let you know how hard he’s tried with you. Even after the numerous rejections, he’s made an effort, but of course, you have other friends, other plans outside your nerdy debate team. He’s never held that against you, but if you wanted to point fingers, he has the means to defend himself. And sure, he wants to prove you wrong on some level too, but that’s the lesser point. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re better than me, and just accepted, you wouldn’t be feeling so excluded.”

“I don’t act like I’m better than you.”

“You just said you would have made a better opening speaker.”

You scoff, “Oh my god, you’re infuriating, I can’t believe I’m stuck with you!”

Spencer bristles at that, “I’m giving you the facts, it’s not my fault you can’t handle them.” he says, leaning closer, trying to make her see his point, “You’re always so closed off and the other guys have just given up trying. Maybe if you—”

“What? If I smiled more? Acted less like a bitch?” you sneer, eyes narrowed dangerously, “I thought a genius like you would know better than to use misogynistic language like that.”

“Wha— no! Don’t put words in my mouth.” Spencer replies, shaking his head. The conversation is devolving into something dangerous, the air crackling with something electric. He assumes it’s anger. They will never get anywhere, so he sighs, softening slightly, “I never said that. I’m just pointing out that you weren’t blameless in this, you know?”

You’re silent. He watches you, takes in how the resentment in your eyes have been dulled by something more contemplative.

He continues, “Listen, I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like you were on the outs. I’m sure we have to do so much reflection as a team and as individuals about how we treat each other, but it’s unfair to say that we never include you when I have actively been making efforts to—”

Your lips are upon him. 

That’s inaccurate. 

You are upon him, arms flung around his neck, body pressed flush against his. He feels the entire world tilt, and he’s unsure if it’s because you’re pulling him down or because your lips are so pillowy he’s instantly eager for more. Wants it like a man starved. Needs it, needs more, but his body betrays him. Whether it’s his inexperience or surprise or a combination of both. He freezes, blinking rapidly at the sight of you. Eyes shut, and face so close to him; so, so close he can count each individual eyelash, see the tiny freckle on your eyelid that gets hidden if your eyes are open.

And then you're gone. The freckle disappears as you look at him with wide eyed mortification. 

“Shit, Spencer, I—”

It’s his lips that cut you off this time, seeking out the velvety warmth of your mouth. Your lips part under his, and he registers a sound, soft and whining. It takes him a moment to realize it came from him, from the back of his throat and muffled by your lips and tongue and oh you’re both falling.

Literally. He must have leaned too far into you; you’re suddenly collapsing, forcing him down because your arms have him in a vice grip and he’s too busy chasing after your lips. The next thing he knows is he’s on top of you and you’re sprawled on the bed beneath him. Time stands still; he’s painfully aware of how cliche that is, but every sense of eloquence seems to have been expelled from his brain as he takes you in; lips swollen and wet from his kisses, pupils blown wide. Every breath you take pushes your chest up against his, and he can feel your heart thrumming against his body. 

“Well, that was one way of shutting you up,” you chuckle with a cockiness that makes his heart speed up, though it isn’t borne out of embarrassment. Every single physiological effect of your body is evidence that you’re enjoying this, telling him you’re just as worked up as he is. The breathiness in your voice, the quickness of your heartbeat. 

The fact that you’re pulling him down again, legs hooking around his hips. He surrenders to it, lips meeting yours once again, deeper and more desperate this time.

He closes his eyes, relishing this, kissing you, touching you, an act he had believed is reserved for attractive jocks and charismatic art nerds. Not him, quiet and lanky, shifting to avoid his angular bones from digging into you, and to place himself more comfortably on the bed. Inexperienced, ungainly, and yet here he is, his tongue pushing into your mouth in his first forays into something that his peers have experienced years ago.

Spencer Reid isn’t used to being the one behind, doing the catching up. Child prodigy, genius, the words aren’t meaningless. He’s been ahead academically—which, up until this point, has been his whole life. But feeling warm lips beneath his own has him reconsidering some of his life choices. 

The kiss is messy. Sloppy from his clumsy attempts to keep up with your eagerness. You’re tugging at something, and he realizes it’s to untuck the rest of the crisp shirt you’ve donned for the debate tournament out from your skirt. His hands settle on your waist, finding smooth, heated skin from where your shirt has ridden up. Careful fingers help push it up, burying under the fabric until his palms are mapping out the slopes of your body. 

Soft. So damn soft. 

Not cold marble after all. He theorizes you must be soft everywhere, and he decides to test it out with his lips, laving kisses along your jaw, down the sweet, musky skin of your neck where your perfume still lingers. Instincts take over and he allows himself a taste, tongue darting out. You shudder, so he does it again, greedy for your pretty moans and gasps. 

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, “Thought you were mad at me?” he mumbles, trailing his kisses down the column of your throat. 

You’re all mhms and ohhhs right now, so far from the usual image you present to the world, a preppy, manicured woman who wrestles for control over everything. You must hate this, he thinks, being beneath him physically, caged within his arms which are deceptively strong for how fragile he looks. 

“Shut up,” you grumble.

“Make me.” His grin is dopey when he lifts his head to meet her gaze.

Something brushes against his crotch, and now he’s the one gasping, jerking in surprise at the friction. You’ve slotted your thigh between his, and his traitorous body responds by grinding down on it shamelessly. The look on your face is smug, triumphant.

“Huh,” saccharine and mocking, you blink up at him innocently, “That was easier than I thought.”

His head drops to your neck again, but he isn’t kissing you anymore. Just open mouthed breathing as he rubs himself on your thigh, hands tightening on your sides, “Mhm.”

“Are you gonna come? Spencer, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He sinks his teeth into your flesh to fight the needy whines because yes, he’s so embarrassingly close and you’re both still fully dressed. He hears a hiss, and he backs off immediately, murmuring apologies, “Didn’t mean to—”

“‘S okay,” you tilt your head back, give him more access to your neck, “Just don’t leave marks.”

Permission to bite. He gulps, heart beating wildly, before ducking back down. Chapped lips run over your neck, finding a soft spot to bite, forcing himself to soften the way his teeth sink into your skin. All the while rubbing himself on your thigh because it’s probably the closest thing to heaven a man such as him will ever experience. 

He hears your laughter, your mocking cooes of, “You’re so fucking needy” but he can’t bring himself to care.

You’re correct, he decides, as you usually are. He’s needy, desperately so, eagerly chasing the delicious pleasure of dry humping your thigh. 

“Hold on, Spencer.”

You push him back gently. A whine rips from his throat, “Mhm—why?”

He gets his answer soon enough. Your hands undo his belt and he swears this sets his whole body on fire. Nobody’s ever seen him like this. Never has another person touched him so intimately, seen him so out of control, so brainless. He’s babbling incoherently as your hand strokes up and down his length, his hips rutting into your hand. It’s out of sync. Two dancers on entirely different rhythms.

Your laughter rings in his ears, one hand tangled in his hair as the other does unspeakable, tantalizing things to his aching cock. 

“Mhm, can’t— I’m gonna—” and he’s spilling into your hand, hot, viscous liquid overflowing from your hand and staining your skirt, “Ah, shit.”

He collapses against you, head on the crook of your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “‘M sorry, I’ll– I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

Your chest shakes as you laugh, “Would you? I think you owe me more than that.” The heat in your voice makes his breath catch in his throat.

Soft kisses press upon your neck as he gathers his thoughts, willing his brain to work again. Anatomy, female anatomy. Female pleasure. What does he know about this? A lot, surprisingly, though mostly from books. Mostly in theory, but that’s a start. He can put them to practice right now. His hands drag down your sides until they catch the waistband of your skirt. “May I?”

“Okay.”

He pulls gently, exposing the rest of your thighs and legs. Honey brown eyes devour the expanse of your skin, hands clutching at the softness. He marvels at the way your flesh accepts his own, bright red splotches imprinted from his fingertips.   

He thinks of poetry, the uncountable amount of words and phrases written to immortalize women and love and sex, and he finds himself wishing he has the skill to compose something as beautiful, something worthy of you right now, radiant and half naked and somehow all his. 

But he is no poet, so he touches his lips upon your body instead. Pretty words will escape him, but his lips can speak even without them, he’ll make sure of it. He kisses down your abdomen, making sure to pay attention to every hidden freckle and birthmark he comes across. Your reactions make him feel drunk, to the point of affecting him physically. Messier kisses. Hands tugging and nearly ripping the lace of your panties because he’s unaware of his own strength. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles, “So pretty.” It’s all he can repeat, but then his tongue lands on your slick heat and suddenly words are forgotten in favor of vague groaning. Because how can he accurately describe the sensation of this? Tasting you. God how has he gone so long without this? Your nails scraping his scalp, his fingers sinking into your thighs as he keeps you still. He’s halfway off the bed, legs dangling off the edge, your thighs squeezing his face. 

There’s nowhere else he would rather be. 

He laps at your folds like a mad man, tongue pressed flat and dragging up slowly to get as much of you in his mouth as possible. His feet find the floor, allowing himself more stability to once again rub his growing erection against a solid object. The poor mattress is going to be ruined once they’re done.

“Faster,” you gasp, jerking your hips into his face, “Spencer— oh, yeah like that!”

Spencer Reid is a quick study, and when he hears the positive reactions, he doubles down until he feels you convulse against his tongue. You jerk so violently he has to hold you down. He pushes his tongue past your entrance experimentally, and feels you tug roughly on his hair in response, gasping his name and God’s name in slurred phrases as you ride out your high.

It’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever experienced.

 “Jesus Christ,” you gasp, and he has to repeat that ridiculous sentence again, because it’s true and he feels you deserve it.

“You’re so pretty.” He fears you might be some kind of magnet, because his lips keep getting drawn back to your skin. He lets his kisses travel up your hip bone, before grinning up at you, “Even when you’re being insufferable, you’re still so beautiful.”

“Gee thanks,” you huff, pulling at his arm, “How romantic, I’m swooning.”

“Might not be swooning, but you did just come on my face.” brilliant rows of teeth flash at you as he smiles smugly.

“Asshole.”

“Is that how you say thank you?” he drags his body up lazily, draping himself over you.

“I’m not— wait, are you hard again?”

“Uh…”

“Needy, needy boy.” you pull him down to you, and he almost protests, his chin and mouth still covered with your slick. But you don’t seem to care, so he follows your lead, God at this point he would follow you anywhere at all. You’re shifting beneath him, and the next thing he knows is your legs are wrapped around his waist again, your heat completely exposed and pressing against his cock.

“Mhm,” he pulls back, eyes wide, “I—”

“What?” you whisper, lifting your head to continue giving him kisses, teeth playfully nipping at his jaw, “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.”

“It’s not that,” he can’t deny you, his body relaxing back down over you. His lips catch yours for a moment, slow and achingly tender, “I’ve just never really done this before.”

He waits for the inevitable laughter. Here he is, at 21, and somehow still the same person he had been when he first entered college at 14. But you continue to look at him with heavy lids, breathless and flushed. 

“Okay,” your voice is kind, sweet, “Take it slow then.” your hand wraps around his length again, the movement slower this time, as you align him to your entrance. He hisses as the sensitive tip grazes against your folds, as he feels your entrance slowly give way to him and envelop his cock. 

“Oh,” he sighs. With your help, he sinks halfway into you, one hand gripping your hip, the other bracing himself on his elbow. Eyes squeezed shut, he stills and manages to ask, “Are you okay?”

You don’t speak, and so he forces his eyes to focus and look at you. The sight has him twitching inside you. Mouth agape and eyes hazy, you’re nodding up at him wordlessly as your hips rock up into his. “More.”

It’s exhilarating. He’s known you for the past year, worked alongside you but respected your need for distance. And now, here you are, not merely close, but one. Spencer sighs, and thrusts shallowly, eyes zeroed in on you and your reactions. He doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want it to end too soon, so he moves slowly, dragging out his cock until only the tip rests inside you, then sliding into the hilt.

It elicits the most mellifluous sounds from you, making him smile in relief. He lets his forehead rest against yours, thrusts growing more confident, but still in that slow, almost dreamy pace. He memorizes every detail of this moment, from the way your eyes flutter closed, to the quiver of your legs as they wrap tighter around his thighs. 

“So good,” he hears himself say, “God, you feel so good.”

“Mhm,” you nod, nails digging into his back, even through his clothes. In the heat of the moment, you’re both still half dressed, only getting rid of your bottom clothes in order to get what you need from each other, “More, Spencer, I need more.”

He nods, letting his thrusts grow faster, rougher. It’s an awkward angle, he’s afraid his knees will start cramping, but the feeling of being surrounded by your warmth, drowning in your moans has him reckless. “There?” he grunts, angling just so, and he can’t help the smirk on his face when he feels your walls clenching around him.

“There, there, yes!”

He’s not sure how he manages to last as long as he does. Maybe it’s the sheer desire to feel you fall apart, for his cock to be drenched in your slick that keeps his release at bay. Maybe he has too much pent up sexual energy that’s just been dying to come out. Whatever it is, he’s thankful for it, because it means he’s spending more time inside you, hips moving with so much impact he’s pushing you forward with each thrust. 

“Yes, just like that.” you’re shuddering beneath him, and he moves his arm to the top of your head, creating a barrier between you and the headboard so you don’t hit it. He could stop, readjust your positions, but he doesn’t have it in him. 

No, he wants to stay inside you, forever if there’s an anatomically feasible way to do it. But unless he invents it, he’ll settle for right now, settle for the heat between your bodies, and how you’re practically melting into the mattress, arching so prettily against him.

“You close?” he murmurs, one hand finding your clit, drawing gentle circles with his fingertips.

“No fair,” you whine, bucking into him, “That’s cheat— Spencer!” 

You come undone in the most enthralling way, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip bitten by your own lips. You squeeze and flutter around him, and he’s helpless to stop his own release, spilling deep inside you with a broken cry from his own mouth. Your name is whispered, over and over again, until he stills, his vision blurry as he collapses against you.

He curls around you, trying to get as close, “You—that was—wow.” 

You giggle, still breathless and glassy eyed, “Are you sure that was your first time?”

“Yes,” he gives you a series of kisses along your temple, “Yes, it was. You—wow.” he carefully pulls out of you, hissing quietly when the cool air conditioned air hits his sensitive flesh. “Was that enough of an apology for not including you to our chess nights?”

“You’re making jokes now?”

“No,” he smiles, leaning away to look at you, all starry eyed and boneless, “Not a joke. Because if it’s not enough, I can do it again.” a kiss to your cheek, “And again.” one on the tip of your nose, “And again.”

When you laugh in response, he cups your cheek, “I mean it.” he says with all the seriousness he can muster.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Does this mean you’ll accept my invitations now?” he lights up, a large smile splitting his face.

“Only if it’s a date.”

"Then it's a date."

[motherrcain]

To start things off, I want to address the Twitter/curiouscat screenshots. That was my account and they were my words. I was 19 and I was entirely aware of what I was saying and that was why I said it. I spent my later high-school years being extremely progressive and “SJW” as they called it at the time, as a way to reject the indoctrination of my environment and rebel against the prejudice, hatred, and ignorance of the culture I grew up in. After moving out of my parents’ house, I fell into a subculture online that prioritized garnering attention at all costs. I flip-flopped again, rejecting all notions of my former “cringe SJW” behavior and intended to be as inflammatory and controversial as possible. I would have said (and usually did say) anything, about anyone, to gain attention and ultimately just make my friends laugh.

I could tell you that I had no idea at the time the platform I would have in the future, or tell you I just have a dry and extremely sarcastic sense of humor, or make any other kind of excuse, but there’s no place for excuses in this matter. At the end of the day I am white, so while I can take accountability for my actions, there’s no way for me to fully understand the way it feels to be on the receiving end of them. All I can say is that I am truly sorry from the bottom of my heart, to anyone who read it then and to anyone reading it now. Any way you feel about me moving forward is valid.

This was a chapter of my life I look back at shamefully. I am not proud of my actions, and I have done my best to bury it as I feel strongly that no good can come from it. As I move forward through my life, I aim to use my platform for good, for change, and for progress. I believe it’s important to atone not through words alone, but through actions. All this being said; all of these things resurfacing are not the actions of a well-meaning individual concerned by something they discovered easily and casually on the internet. These are screenshots obtained through extensive digging, hacking, and cooperative effort amongst a group of individuals who do not care who else is hurt by witnessing this media as long as I am ultimately hurt the worst in the end. I’ve known that all of these separate pieces of my past have been found and hoarded over the past couple years as I’ve been tipped off in various ways. This massive smear campaign has been a long time in the making, waiting for the right moment to be unleashed, and now it finally has.

Again, there is no justice sought by this group. All they crave is the complete emotional destruction of me as a person. Personal accounts of mine have been hacked, my family has been doxxed and harassed, photos of me as a child and intimate details of my past have been passed around for fun. I am an adult and I can take accountability for my actions, but this goes beyond accountability. The things I have seen said about me in the past few days, the things my friends and family have seen, are atrocious and disgusting. I’m no stranger to a lot of the vitriol as I’ve seen it before in the corners of the internet where it hides, but to see it paraded so visibly on such a wide scale now amongst so many people willing to entertain it is pure maliciousness of the highest degree. I ask that you imagine how you would feel having all your worst mistakes dredged up from the depths and displayed for all the world to pick apart. Despite my irritation at having to address some of these things at all, I will address the allegations in all their varying degrees of embarrassing ridiculousness.

1. Regarding the topic of incest in my artwork, it’s a layered experience. I have always been interested in creating art centered around the taboo. Much like all the other topics explored in my work, it was just another part of human nature I wrote about it. However, with specific instances such as my hand drawn t-shirt (which was a ridiculous item I made in my bedroom that was never intended to be and never has been any kind of merch distributed to other people, just to clear that one up), at the time I was still of a somewhat inflammatory mindset and fully made that t-shirt to be a crude joke to garner attention. I had even been labeled “incest girl” on Twitter in that time period, I suppose because the people I surrounded myself with knew I was a white girl from the bible belt, and that was their joke that I leaned into. As an artist with a fanbase comprised of many victims of sexual/emotional abuse of an incestuous nature who find comfort in my music because of it, I understand how painful this could be. I apologize deeply if my actions have caused you any further grief and if I have let you down. I do want to be clear, however, that I have never fetishized it. Rather, as a lonely and confused child I had my own complicated personal struggles with the concept during puberty (in a hypothetical manner, not involving anyone in my actual family). I have since untangled these feelings and I now understand their root. While sometimes the topic of incest may get intermingled on a song with my own experiences of sexual abuse or my own familial traumas, I have never and would never fetishize such a sensitive subject. All of these topics I’m going to discuss have carried the brand of “fetish” as this is a common talking point for the transphobic brigade of individuals attacking me.

2. Regarding the topic of drawn child pornography, based off of one drawing I made at 19 years old. I am going to be brief about this because this is quite possibly one of the most serious offenses I can fathom. I had three individual characters that I drew often from the ages of 18-20, each character being a different age in that bracket. The character of Teddy, who was 19, was a hypersexual character born out of my own struggles with sexual trauma and assault. At the time of that drawing, I had just been raped by a man twice my age weeks before. The way I processed this was the opposite way I thought rape victims were supposed to behave, as I leaned into sadomasochism and became fixated on the event and thought that somehow sexualizing it in a way I could control or desire would make it more bearable, as though I wanted it. This was reflected in my artwork. All other details aside, the character was the same age I was and had the same extremely slender body type I had at the time. I utilized a more cartoonish-hybrid style for my characters occasionally as was the norm for artwork in my scene on the internet around that time, but the character was still of the same legal age I was and that has always been the case. I will not be discussing this topic again.

3. Regarding the topic of sexual abuse towards animals, because yes that is somehow also an accusation against me. I was at a Fourth of July party out in the sticks at a friend’s house and the majority of us were topless because we could be. My friend’s dog hopped in the truck with me and I messed with him by putting him in a headlock for a few seconds while a friend took a picture. My bare breast was squished against his face for all of two seconds. I can’t believe I’m even addressing this.

4. Regarding the missing poster included in the promotional materials of Preacher’s Daughter. I made that poster at 3am in a rush and was googling “1990s missing poster” looking for any kind of template to use that would seem period accurate for the character. I picked that one out of all the search results because it was in the yellowish color palette and had a font/visual language that I thought would match the other visuals for the album. I absolutely should have done my research on the poster I chose, and I understand how this could be hurtful and damaging to the family of that child. I insist that this was nowhere close to my intention by using it. Hindsight is 20/20 and I would not be so careless in that regard again. However, the accusations of me fetishizing the kidnapping and murder of a child are beyond egregious and ridiculous.

5. Regarding the topic of misogyny and “fetishization of the female experience”. Cis women are not the only people capable of being victims of sexual assault. They are not the only people capable of being abused, kidnapped, or murdered. To posture that I have never been harmed in my life as a child or an adult trans woman, or that fearing the very real possibility of being harmed again, kidnapped, or killed as a trans woman is somehow a “fetish”, is entirely willfully ignorant and hateful. No one knows what I have been through in my personal life, and I feel zero need to share it with the world because it’s no one’s business but mine. You can debate the ethics of artistic expression until you’re blue in the face but you cannot tell me what I have experienced and how to process that because you simply were not there and you do not know me. Preacher’s Daughter is a deeply personal story to me, born from my traumas and deepest fears. If it reads as a fetish to you, then that is your problem and not mine.

There is so much ridiculous material being used to slander me right now, I don’t even know if this addresses every “controversy”. To try and sum everything up, no I am not a violent misogynist fetishizing the “female experience”. No I am not the creator of child pornography, nor am I a pedophile, a zoophile, or a porn-addicted incest fetishist. I urge you to recognize the patterns of a transphobic/otherwise targeted smear campaign, especially in this political day and age. This information was hoarded until the perfect moment arose to unleash it. In this case, a baseless attempt to assassinate my boyfriend’s character became the catalyst. He will address these claims in his own time on his own terms and I support him wholeheartedly. This entire situation is negligent, sensationalized, and extremely dangerous not only for myself but for all my loved ones. Of course this was the specific intention of the perpetrators, but I want to make that fact very clear for those who have gotten caught up in it. I am responsible for my actions and taking accountability for the mistakes I have made in the past, but everything beyond that is brutal slander, targeted harassment, and in the words of my own attackers, bullying with the end goal of me killing myself. My team and I are taking this matter seriously and are pursuing legal recourse under the fullest extent of the law.

To everyone partaking in this expecting me to address my racist statements in the past, you are completely valid. This statement cannot be everything, but I hope it is a start.

To everyone partaking in this beyond that, as if it is simply “discourse” or “drama”, I hope you are deeply ashamed of yourself. This is none of those things, but instead an attack on me as a person. Part of the reason I am even running the risk of accelerating this harassment and jeopardizing my own safety and the safety of my friends and family to make this statement is because I see this situation for exactly what it is, and I need all of you to see it this way as well. This is a common tactic used against minorities, specifically trans people in this case, with no goal besides the destruction of an individual. I am not the only person this has happened to by any means and I will not be the last person it happens to either. I will not allow this smear campaign to silence me in the same way I have not allowed any of their previous attempts to silence me. Again, in this day and age, just as I must be diligent with my voice and my actions, you share the same responsibility.

Thank you for reading,

Hayden

[astrosamara]

Moon Sign Observations

Observations from a Pisces Moon :) All these opinions come from my own personal experiences with the different moon signs, so it might not apply to everyone. Various aspects to the moon and house placement can also change interpretation and expression of that moon sign.

Aries ☾

They hate wasting time. When they make their mind up on something, they don't like to sit around and contemplate on it, they want to go after it right away. Super action oriented. I love being around Aries moon's, even if our energy levels can be quite incompatible. I've also seen so many Aries moons that stand up against bullying and root for the underdogs. They can be great in leadership positions. Even with their competitive nature, I feel like they're the moon signs who want to see everyone win, especially the people that they love.

Taurus ☾

I haven't met many Taurus moon's, the one's I have met though always seem to be super big on luxury items and comfort. They can live beyond their means sometimes because they just want to have the best of the best. I've noticed this more frequently in younger Taurus moons though. Very beautiful people who seem to always look good without trying hard and can have a very strong interest in beauty and fashion. They can also be SUPER stubborn over their opinions and can be pretty closed off to hearing what other people have to say.

Gemini ☾

Deeply fascinating minds. It's hard to pin Gemini moons down and they tend to live a double life. You can think you're really close to a Gemini moon, but there can be so much about them you still don't know. Excellent communicators that tend to be lighthearted and funny in conversations. They think deeply about life and I know many Gemini moon's that are insomniacs because they have a hard time shutting down their busy minds. They also tend to have a wide variety of interests and are incredibly smart in any area they apply themselves in. Incredibly analytical and perceptive.

Cancer ☾

I feel like I've met more Cancer moons than any other moon sign. They just appear to be everywhere in my life lol. Very caring and sensitive people. A lot of them wear their heart on their sleeves. They tend to be the mother friend of their friend groups and this sensitive energy can often be taken advantage of by people who only want to use them as their therapist. I've also noticed many people tend to baby Cancer moons and don't hold them accountable for some of their more toxic behaviors. They also have an energy about them that makes people feel safe and comfortable around them almost instantly. Strangers will just start telling them their life story and want to open up to them.

Leo ☾

Leo moons are LOUD, especially when they're comfortable. They also tend to have a very lively and radiant aura to them. Unfortunately, I know a lot of Leo moons that can be a little too self involved to the point that they're uninterested in the people around them. They love having attention on themselves and can become upset if they feel like they don't have that attention. They like to put on a show with their emotions and express themselves in a theatrical manner. I wish I had more positive experiences with Leo placements in general, but I haven't tbh. I will say though that I love how open and expressive they are with their love towards others. Rarely are they emotionally cold and distant, which is refreshing to be around.

Virgo ☾

HUGE worriers. Feeling like they need to be perfect in order to be accepted by themselves and by others. Can stress themselves out to the point of sickness. Underdeveloped Virgo placements in general tend to have very fragile egos and crave external validation to an unhealthy extent. They can struggle with intrinsic motivation, because they don't see the point of doing something unless they're rewarded or praised. I haven't met very many Virgo moons in my life, mostly Virgo suns, but I feel like this would be one of the more challenging moon placements to have. Frequent overthinking and anxiety, similar to that of a Gemini moon. I feel like Virgo's are much more hard on themselves though than Gemini's.

Libra ☾

Super charming and flirty people. They crave beauty, peace, and harmony in their lives. They tend to have a natural way with people and can have many friends throughout their lives. Libra moons are just very friendly and polite people overall. I've found that Libra tends to be more happy in the moon than in the sun, which is why Libra moons can have stronger positive Libra qualities. Similar to Taurus moons, they tend to be very beautiful people with a strong interest in beauty and fashion. Unlike Taurus moons though, Libra moons have a strong disinterest in conflict and fighting. Due to their strong desire to keep the peace, they can probably easily fall into habits of people pleasing and not speaking up for themselves.

Scorpio ☾

I'm in love with Scorpio moons. Incredibly emotionally intelligent and aware individuals. They go through a lot of dark shit in their lives, but they really know how to grow from their pain and transform with it. I've never met a Scorpio moon that didn't have this intense and magnetic presence to them. I've found them to be much more intense than Scorpio suns (being one myself) because this tends to be a really challenging moon placement to have. They have a very dark and deep inner world and they grow accustomed to carrying a lot of pain with them in their daily lives. There's also a very painful and strong desire for intimacy and to feel deeply understood that could stem from a difficult childhood. They have a strong disinterest in superficiality and their intuition guides them heavily throughout their life. If you meet a Scorpio moon that is emotionally healthy and healed, they probably went through hell to get to that place of contentment in their life.

Sagittarius ☾

Super funny people. Being a Jupiter ruled moon sign, they have very expansive and limitless minds, which they have in common with Pisces moons. Freedom to express themselves and their individuality is super important for them. Usually a very strong connection to spirituality and a strong interest in learning about other cultures through traveling. I've found that with many Sagittarius moons, people really want to listen to them and hear what they have to say. People see them as a wise guru. They also have a tendency to struggle with commitment and being tied down to anything or anyone (I've found this to be more true for people with heavy mutable energy in their charts overall).

Capricorn ☾

I've rarely met a Capricorn moon that I didn't like. Very loving people that like to take care of the people closest to them. They can struggle pretty intensely, especially younger people with this placement, with a fear of failure and never reaching their full potential. They can have this innate sense of responsibility and structure as a connection to their emotional fulfillment. Capricorn isn't happy in this moon sign, so emotions can be quite challenging for them to navigate. Even though they don't like expressing their emotions openly, when they do, they can express it in a very beautiful and poetic way. There's a lot of singers with this moon placement that have songs with deeply emotional and impactful lyrics.

Aquarius ☾

Aquarius moon's often get described as emotionless or cold, but they actually feel quite deeply. The problem is they intellectualize their emotions more than they actually feel them. I've also noticed they can shut down or feel distant and uncomfortable when they witness other people be emotional around them. This is a moon placement I truly feel for. They can feel incredibly different from the people around them and their feelings can frequently be misunderstood by others. A lot of deep emotional loneliness with this moon sign. I've noticed this to be a common "black sheep" placement, more so than with other Aquarius placements. They have very beautiful and unique souls with a strong interest in bettering society. Very humanitarian.

Pisces ☾

Pisces moon's tend to have strong connections to their grandparents from a young age, or older people in general. They also tend to be into grandma or grandpa activities because they feel like such an old soul lol. Might feel a disconnect from their generation and modern trends. I've noticed many Pisces moon's have these dreamy and sparkling eyes that appear to be filled with magic. They tend to have a very powerful connection to music and they're the type to just be huge music lovers in general, connecting to the vibes of music overall, instead of having a specific genre they listen to. Can be heavily addicted to isolation as a coping mechanism when life gets too overwhelming. Reality can feel very limiting and restrictive for them, which is why I think it's so important for Pisces moon's to have creative and fulfilling outlets (especially during this Saturn in Pisces transit that has definitely been testing them. I know it has for me lol).

[etherealkissed88]

5 GAME CHANGERS OF THE LAW ★

loass things i think you should know that makes things easier

“DARE TO ASSUME” + JUST HAVE FAITH: just accept/assume what you want as easily as you effortlessly assume negative things. just do it. most of the time people are thinking about the 'perfect way' to imagine or manifest. they look for the 'perfect technique' when theres no such thing. just dare to assume it is yours now! when it is assumed, have faith in that assumption. just decide its done no matter what you see. whatever you assume and persist in will harden into a fact right? once youve assumed it true, go about your 3d life having faith in imagination. know that your desires exist already since creation is finished so theres no way that it's "impossible to manifest". just surrender yourself to faith. just trust the law. you have been applying the law since you were born without knowing. now that you understand the law, just allow yourself to have faith in it. it cannot fail. you assume something to be true and continue being that version of you in imagination aka persisting = manifestation. thats the law. if fears, anxiety, or negative thoughts come, "dare to assume" they have no affect on you, because by default they dont either way. "dare to assume its yours because you are always the operant power who choses how life goes. it gets to a point when youre tired of going back and forth with “i have it” to “no i dont”. it all comes down to faith. you should have faith in yourself and the law especially since the five senses you use to interact with the 3d are all limited and you cant see everything that goes on in the 3d. thats why it makes sense to assume something and stick with it regardless of the 3d. when will you realize that a version of you who has your desires already exists, so just surrender to the version of you who has it already in imagination. stop limiting yourself because of “fears” and just say yes to imagination.

so, i dont give a fuck about what negative thoughts or anxiety you have, just assume its done. its too easy but you overcomplicate it. once assumed, have faith and persist because this is called the law of assumption after all.

THE 3D FOLLOWS, IT DOES NOT PRECEDE: the 3d does not have a mind of its own. its only job is to reflect imagination so who ever you are being imagination, it copies. im sure youve heard the phrase “signs follow, they do not precede” which means signs do not come before your manifestation. they are there (if your limited senses can see it) because that is who you are assuming to be in imagination so it follows that (signs arent important either way so dont spend time searching for them and focusing on them when you should be focused on already being at your end goal which is already having ur desire). similarly with the 3d, the 3d literally only follows you so for it to change or show you something you want, you have to change self/imagination. the 3d literally obeys imagination so expecting it to change without changing self doesnt make sense. if you find yourself getting angry w the 3d, remind yourself “the 3d follows, it does not precede”. it cannot move on its own without your permission because you are the operant power. knowing this should send you straight into being the change you want to see and depend on limitless imagination only.

this also helps with accepting you are the only source of power and helps stop yourself from validating and depending on the 3d. when you know the 3d depends on you to change, you no depend on the 3d to show you your desire. you no longer crave seeing change from it, rather you be the change.

YOU WANT THE FEELING: im not even gonna say you dont want it in the 3d because of course your human self wants the physical experience. but you have to know that the feeling (the knowing, not emotions), dictate how you feel about it in the 3d. for example, read this and realize that even if you physically manifest your desire, if you dont feel / know that it is truly yours (aka if you arent fulfilled), it can lead you to get insecure and assume negative. an example is when someone manifests their sp but they still assume that their sp will get tired of them and wouldnt love them for long. this person was not feeling fulfilled (knowing) that they were in a committed and loving relationship which is why even with physical proof of the relationship, they still felt that it wouldnt last. you want the feeling of being loved, of having financial freedom, of feeling confident in your body, and then the physical manifestation of it is a cherry on top. you see how that if you lack the knowing (feeling) of your desire, you can allow bad assumptions to overconsume you and even ruin the fun experience of physically experiencing it in the 3d because you arent even sure of really having it (another example of how who you are in imagination = everything else).

focus on that inner fulfillment next time you imagine something. are you satisfying yourself and returning to the state to the point where you can accept it and know its truly done?

ENJOY YOURSELF: actually imagine to enjoy yourself. what do you want to experience? forget about trying to manifest that sp or money, what do you actually want to experience with that desire? whatever you truly want, imagine it for your own enjoyment and once imagined, it is experienced. manifesting is literally supposed to be fun so imagine for fun, do your techniques for fun and by law, it will reflect either way. realize that imagination can take you anywhere at anytime. you can imagine anything you want so imagine to the point where you dont desire that thing anymore because you know it is yours in limitless imagination. this is fulfillment: you realize you are experiencing it now as limitless self and you are doing it for your own enjoyment. thats leaving the 3d alone and not depending on it for validation and thats the best part of satisfying yourself in imagination.

i say this because ive realized that when i used to imagine something and do techniques, it would feel like im forcing myself to do it and then i dont even actually enjoy myself and enjoy whatever i imagine. figure out specifically what it is you want and imagine it any way you want. chase that satisfaction.

YOU EXPERIENCE IT INSTANTLY: when you imagine something, you experience it right away. it is experienced in the present always! if i imagine myself holding $1000, i really am holding $1000 in that moment. this is because you are consciousness simply being aware of whatever. once you are aware of something in imagination, it really has been experienced already. once imagined, it really happened! if you think this is not true its because you limit yourself to the dead, neutral 3d and think that the 3d is the only 'real' thing. this is not true especially since the 3d is a reflection of who you are being or who you assume to be in imagination, meaning that imagination is everywhere and is the 3d. as the operant power, you have full control over everything (over what manifests or not, etc). so even though you really experienced something in imagination instantly, you can assume it is true or not. you are the only source of power that can choose to identify with what you wants and has full control over whether or not something will be true in your reality. stop waiting for the 3d to change in order to “accept” it. stop being a slave to the 3d when you are the one who controls it in the first place. you can experience it instantly right now so why wait for the 3d to do that?

literally imagination is the source, yes? its the source because it always is molding the 3d (since they are connected) so hearing that once you imagine something, you experienced it instantly, should give you the confidence to know you really do have your desire already since it has already been experienced in imagination. nothing in the 3d can change until you change self (imagination) so imagination/self is powerful which is why you are powerful because you = imagination/self. thats literally why you have the ability to manifest in the first place. all there is to do is persist by living 3d life knowing/assuming/identifying as that version of you who has it already.

kisses, jani ☆

[tarotbyjam24]

Pick a card : How will your spouse act in your pregnancy?

Pick a piles\ masterlist feedbacks

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️ Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

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Pile 1 Pile 2

Pile एक

Alright pile 1 your spouse will be like ohh yeahh my wifey is pregnant . Lemme serve my MY QUEEN , my kid's mother 🙇🏻‍♀️ . They gonna decorate the room you'll be living in . They'll be prepping the nursery too by painting it and adding magical vibes to it. They gonna put the dolls in the nursery. They'll not be fighting with you at all like no fighting at all. No yelling no nothing. They're gonna be so submissive and help you with everything. They're most likely to always think that what can I do to make them feel better. They may also go from questioning phases and questioning themselves whether they're enough and ready to be a parent or not. They'll not be letting you do any house work or anything. As I said you're their queen 👑. They'll be spending their money on hiring the maids and all the stuff required to get things done but they won't let you even walk on the cold floor without slippers. They'll always be there for you and whenever you feel that your body doesn't look great . I'll say just stop and look at your spouse's face. They're just so in love with it . Also you never need anyone's validation. You're just beautiful the way you're. Motherhood is a blessing. I'm hearing.

I am woman, I am fearless

I am sexy, I'm divine

I'm unbeatable, I'm creative

Honey, you can get in line

I am feminine, I am masculine

I am anything I want

I can teach you, I can love you

If you got it goin' on.

Your spouse will always be there to cheer you up. They'll always do the effort to make you feel better . They'll try hard to satisfy your pregnancy cravings lol. A keeper. And answer your funny stupid questions while they're doing important work. They'll be like yeahh this is so my wife 🌚 . They may also take you to sit often in moonlight and chat with you while they're laying your lap rubbing your womb. They're so protective of you in general. They can't stand when you're not in good mood. So your spouse's will take their extra focus on that and maintain peace with you because we all know how moody we all get sometimes and now that you're pregnant it's your right to be moody and grumpy teddy bear. They gonna also buy you maternity dresses and flowers in which you'll look mystical they might even click your pics and save them for later. They'll watch all the disney movies with you that loved as a kid.

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Pile दो

So like pile 1 you're your spouse's queen too 👑✨ . They'll be source of your happiness. They'll make you the happiest. They'll see the fashion show you do for them when you come back from shopping. They'll hype you up and make you feel worthy of all of it . There eyes will only be at you and you only . You've charmed them up , you've rizzed them up already. If you ever get the thoughts like my spouse might leave me no they won't they probably left you for planning a surprise for you. Probably went to buy your favourite drinks and some food to catch along with. Well, your fs may get hurt or sad by seeing you to go through all those changes during pregnancy like pregnancy symptoms : morning sickness, dehydration, dizziness, anxiety, etc All those pains and hardships that women has to go through while nourishing a human being inside their womb. They may feel like it's already enough for them to make them see all the good and bad changes you went throughout pregnancy. I see they're big in the kitchen. They'll always be there to cook home-made meal for you with their own hands and serve it to you beautifully to make you feel like you're in restaurant. They may even act like a waiter when they serve you up. I feel they maybe enrolling you up in drawing and painting classes too which can be outdoors like in some fields or gardens. They're gonna put all the work aside and leave it all if there's one phone call coming from you . They'll come barefoot for you I swear. As I said they are not able to see you in any pain they'll do whatever in their reach is to make you feel comfortable like giving you hugs , rubbing your feet etc . Hehe they love your hairs so they'll take extra care of your hairs when you're pregnant. They'll even get you different different hair accessories to accessorize your hairs . They'll take care of your hydration and even say words of affirmation when you drink your water. They may also bring special cups that hold special meanings to both of you in your pregnancy. If anything breaks your heart know that they'll be keeping it out of your sight until you're feeling okay . They may even tell you stories of knight and princess while you go to sleep omggggg🎀

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I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day🌸🐰 I'd love to hear which pile you chose

Loads of love , jam🩷

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[atyourmerci]

To think I’d know it all

Therapist!ellie (read pt.1 here)

X

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!ellie, sub!reader, power imbalance don’t fuck your therapist, talks of degradation, lots of praise, Ellie watches r! masturbate, thigh riding, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: this is for @catfern if she likes it I die happy. Sorry this took so long I got a little overzealous, yet still it feels rushed so I’m dropping this and disappearing! I promise I’ll be going back to working on reqs now.

X

You think you know yourself, your highs, desires, triggers, your inner most depravities. but you don’t. Maybe it wasn’t your fault- the bliss that came from blatant ignorance so bitter sweet on your tongue. So comfortable in your own escaped reality, why would you try to face it now?

Half of the time you were lying to Dr. Williams. A white lie here, slipping through the cracks of reality by omitting the truth there. It’s not like she couldn’t read you like a book- she knew everything. Things you had never thought of, mysteries to you, solved in seconds by her.

You never gave her much of your true issues, deadbeat mommy leaving you at six for her new boyfriend that could be your brother. Never feeling academically competent, body issues, all the bullshit troubles any girl could dream of beating herself down over.

Thats what you told yourself she knew, the surface, pretty, palpable, easy to swallow, desirable.

But Ellie didn’t want palpable, she craved the chaos of your destruction. She wanted to watch the rage play out, dangerously close to her integrity. She wanted to pull the dirty guts out to feast on. Every last piece of you, torn out, then you would be easy enough to swallow for her.

-

The air only grew thicker. Suffocating your windpipes to choke on, making sure you felt every particle of desperation.

The session after she had cancelled. You thought she’d keep this up, realizing she had taken it too far, falling into her desires you had coaxed her into.

But yet there you were, back in your usual seat, legs crossed, throat dry as it eats at the hot pressure in the air. The buzz of a ring in your ear as you sit there silently. To talk of it, to progress, to regress back into the unknown- the lies, the omissions.

Would she guide you- like she did last time? would she make you do it yourself, pathetic and begging, longing for the validation that she did it for herself, even if only for a little bit.

“How have you been?” A formality, a principle, a greeting. She had to say it- what would she say outside the four walls of this prison?

“Alright,” came out as an unwanted sigh, subconscious as your body tells the truth before you can cut it off at the source.

“No witty comeback? did something happen with the girl?” Ellie furrows her brows at your change of body language. She takes note of how closed off it is, not desiring of visitors. You watch as the veins in her muscles twitch in her tank. rid of the cover of her modest blazer, shoulders now under the impression of your gaze.

“I stopped seeing her, Im seeing an ex,” you didn’t have to say that, could have left it at the end of your farce of a hookup ending. But this time it wasn’t a lie, you truly were fucking that cunt.

“Oh. Anything serious?” Ellie tenses, eager to unpack the dichotomy of the new woman. Why did you start seeing your ex again, what was she tied to, what did you have to gain from anyone but her?

“Just sex.” you shrug off. This was the truth.

“What drove you back to her specifically?” Ellie goes to write it down but once again find herself unable to find the words- lost in the craving the understanding of your mind selfishly.

“Comfortability- is that what you want to hear?” you taunt her, driving your eyes into a squint. What was her motive- what was your own?

“Well something in particular brought you back to her, no?” she pries, not letting you take control of the conversation. If she had to drag it out of you herself she would.

“She knows how I like it,” your attempt at intimidation, confidence in your own pleasure. Nothing but another beautiful farce covered in thorns. A hint of a smirk paints the doctor’s lips, mean and tortured.

‘Oh you think you know yourself so well you beautiful fool’ Ellie thinks to herself. You wouldn’t know satisfaction if it hit you in the face, but she was to help you- that was her job right? “And what is it…that you like?” Shrinking her face into a scowl, head tilted to the side, watching how your body twitches at nothing. How pliable could she diminish you to without touching you- she couldn’t, of course.

“She gets rough with me,” so knowing, as if you were breed for it. A toy of sorts, helpless under the hands of a predator.

“What entails rough?” Ellie probes, getting her scalpel out, ready to dissect your oblivion. Her flesh scorching with fervor as she coaxes more out of you. She had found her vessel.

“I dunno… hitting, tying me up, stuff of that nature.”

“What else?” You’d never know how eager she was, calm in her disposition, from what the eye can make out. Inside she pulses, her mind eating away at itself. To bite is still to touch- Instinctual and destructive. A morbid curiosity to drown herself in, held at the bottom of your mind with the weights of her own scrutiny.

“You wanna know that she calls me a fuckin’ whore?”

“Why do you think you like the degradation?” Ellie shifts forward, getting to the edge of her seat, splaying her forearms onto her thighs. A pissing contest, cruel and depraved.

“Probably my godforsaken mother- what are you get-“ you begin to question before you’re interrupted.

“Good girl.” Ellie coos, shifting her weight back into the seat, her forearms resting on the armrests as her legs are lazily parted. A test she knew she’d win- she knew you best didn’t she? Playing you like a puppet, taking matters into her own hands, unethical as it may be.

So abrupt you’re taken out of a haze. An uncalculated whine coming out of your throat, you attempt to cover it with a halfass cough but the damage was done- you were caught. Ellie just watches as you squirm, skin growing hot as she watches you knowingly, smug and cunning as you tip toe the ledge. “w-what?”

Ellie’s grin only widens, “that was a fair assumption, aware… you’re doing so well already.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, fire blazing in your chest ready to burst into ashes laid out like puzzle pieces neatly for her. A new sensation, uncharted and dense. Immensely ridged to obtain- the feeling of worth, accomplishment at its peak. Would you ever be able to fulfill the demand?

Ignore it, lie, get out of it.

“I like getting when she treats me like shit- gets me off…” you attempt, eyes casted downwards to your sweaty palms soaked from the heat of the air.

“No you don’t.”

“How would you know,” you laugh her off. You’ve built your wall, so high that not even you could see over it.

“Sure you want to be told what to do. But you also want to be acknowledged for your work. How pretty you look opened up. How good you are for taking more, taken whats asked of you. Don’t you?” Ellie doesn’t skip a beat, like shes rehearsed it, dwelled on your inner most necessities. The doctor asks but you both know it’s not a question, rather an admission of verity.

“Doctor Williams, please-“ the impending doom of your fate- the tip of the iceberg chiseling down each second. A ticking time bomb sure to go off. Your body pulses, heart racing. How much more could you take?

“It’s okay…tell me whats wrong” Ellie coos doe eyed, so forgiving in a breeding ground for destruction. A flower blooming in the midst of a tornado. To talk, to proceed, to regress.

“I cant control myself- listening to you…like that,” fist turning white grappling onto the armrests, breath shaky and wavering. Your hips subconsciously rocking into the thick leather of the doctor’s chair- a taste of salvation at any cost.

“Be a good girl and show me the mess you made on my seat,” a reckless invitation- one with grave consequences. Nonetheless too sweet not to bite, sink her teeth into and rip the flesh.

Shameful, degrading enticement. Shaky hands grasping the button of your jeans. How much time did you have left? What if someone walks in? Both your jeans and panties come off in one fowl swoop- fallen to the warm carpet on her floor. You wince as the naked, seeping flesh of your cunt reaches the leather, “Fuck.”

Ellie just watches, amused, stone faced as she understands the specimen. The way you hips rut without you letting them says more than your words, “Give yourself what you need.”

Your body comes back into consciousness with the approval for more. Give her whats shes asked of you. Nimble fingers beginning to circle the swell of your clit- the reoccurring ache of disappointment- the fate of inadequacy.

“Atta girl- just like that. Does it feel good?” the doctor mutters so sweetly- so proud of her specimen. She knew you needed it- the approval, the praise of accomplishment.

Your breath shortens and you pulse around nothing. Driving aimless circles around the bud as your head cocks back. Your cunt begs of her, pleads to be full of her- if shed ever let you have it. “n-need you, please Ellie.”

The doctor had never heard you speak of her name. Too casual for barriers, too comfortable for the tension. Something in her own mind switches at the words- the way they rolled off your tongue like you had said it many times before. Where had you said it, to whom? If not anyone at all. “I cant help you…but I cant stop you from helping yourself.”

Lust was a sin, but gluttony was a mere punishment. Overzealous in nature, depraved and lawless in practice. A reckless invitation- one with grave consequences. A walk of shame, magnets finding their match. She had made your bed, you were to lie in it.

Ellies hands on her armrest, sure to not budge- to uphold her ethics, principles responsible of her own will. She lets you climb her body, mount yourself up top her lap, positioning your cunt on her thigh.

The air. Thick, all consuming- so close, breathing her air, the breath of someone wiser, more understanding of your own mind. What a dangerous game, everything you need right there, yet taboo to drain every last bit of her. An inch given, a mile lacking. She keeps her eyes trained on you, her subject in testing.

“It’s okay, fuck yourself on me. You’ve been so good.” letting your cunt rake up and down the scratchy fabric of her slacks, hands pinned behind your back on your own accord.

The bubble in your stomach already ready to overflow, choking back whimpers drown in by your teeth. She made it so easy- she didn’t even have to fucking touch you.

“Let go. Let yourself come,” the doctor demands, she knew what you were doing. Ellie didn’t care how pathetic it was.

“I can-t not, not yet,” sweat dripping down your flustered face as your sticky white slick coats her covered thigh. The sight was so vulgar in Ellie’s eyes, watching you panting as you fuck yourself on her thigh. Thoughts of what she’d do in another world without laws.

“Do what you’re told.”

[candy69gurl]

Noncon w gojo but reader is resisting the whole time so he ends up tying them down. And he’s not even trying to be nice about it, he’s degrading her and choking her all that stuff 🤭

BREAKPOINT

PAIRING yandere Gojo Satoru x f!reader

WARNING non/con, unhealthy relationship (red flag Gojo), use of vulgar words, manipulation, humiliation, fingering on kitchen counter, bondage (hands only), blowjob, cumming in mouth, raw sex, breeding kink, orgasm denial, forcing to say stuffs, clit rubbing, pussy eating, nipple play, choking, degradation, lactation kink, multiple orgasms, oversensitivity, creampie, manhandling, so much yanderee

NOTE twitter link here.. sorry for posting late

Dating Gojo, the incredibly good-looking and powerful guy, isn't as simple as you'd think. He frequently reminds you of your perceived inferiority compared to him, and that he could find someone better.

Every time you're with him, he's makes you feel insecure. He keeps putting you down for your mistakes and flaws, always reminding you of all the things he can do that you can only dream about. He often says mean things about how you look and what you can do, making you feel like you're not good enough for him. Even though he's rude and acts like he doesn't care, Gojo still wants you around, making sure you know he's more important in your life.

He's always flirting with other people, which makes it clear he doesn't respect you. When he's with his friends, he completely ignores you, leaving you feeling invisible and unimportant. Your feelings never seem to be a priority for him. It's clear he's more focused on other things, yet he still wants you to stay. You're beginning to realize this relationship isn't healthy for you, but you still crave his approval and validation, hoping he'll see you as worthy.

Your best friend advises, 'You should leave him, girl.'"

"But I love him," you counter.

"But does he love you?"

You stay quiet. Gojo's words may say one thing, but his actions speak differently. Your best friend is right; you realize you need to do something about it. So you send him a text asking to meet at your place, you need to talk to him over this.

Satoru arrives at your house, his long legs carrying him up to the door with an air of confidence. Knowing he's the strongest sorcerer in the world makes him feel untouchable. As he knocks on the door, a thrill of excitement courses through him, anticipating what awaits inside. The familiar scent of your perfume greets him as you open the door, and he smirks, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

He takes off his dark blue jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a nearby chair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, taking in your appearance before he speaks in a low voice, ... "Been missing my dick, huh?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you snap, glaring at him. He smirks, stepping closer to you, his body heat enveloping you as he looms over you.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Satoru repeats, a hint of amusement in his voice. He raises an eyebrow, letting the question hang between them, challenging you to elaborate. When he doesn't get an immediate response, he crosses his arms, sitting on your couch and regarding you with a cocky grin.

"So, why the fuck did you call me if you're gonna give me this attitude? " he asks, feigning ignorance. His eyes gleam mischievously, daring you to confront him about your issues head-on.

You stand there, silent for a moment, searching for the words to express your frustration. Before you can say anything, Satoru turns away, sauntering towards your kitchen like he owns the place. He opens the fridge, pulling out a beer and cracking it open with a satisfying sound. Your heart pounds in your chest, your frustration mounting as he drinks it so casually.

As he turns back to you, he raises an eyebrow, the unopened beer in his hand. "You gonna talk, or are you just gonna stand there?" he asks.

"This...this relationship isn't working," you finally manage to utter, your voice wavering slightly. Satoru freezes mid-drink, the beer halfway to his lips. The surprise in his eyes fades quickly, replaced with a cold, hard stare. He sets the beer down on the counter, taking a step towards you.

"Break up?" He repeats, the word hanging in the air like a challenge. "You think you can just toss me aside like an old toy?" He growls, his eyes burning with anger. The force of his personality filled the room, making it hard to breathe. Satoru leans in, his face inches from yours, his blue eyes burning with a fire that matched his temper.

"You better think twice about this, princess," He snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "Once you break things off with me, you'll be all alone. No one is going to love you."

"I'm sure," you say firmly, standing your ground despite the fear in your chest. Satoru's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths. He steps back, a sardonic smile playing on his lips.

"Did you find someone better than me?" He asks, his voice dripping with disbelief and accusation. The air around you thickens, the tension palpable. Satoru crosses his arms, leaning against the counter, his expression a mix of amusement and contempt. "Tell me... Is his dick bigger than mine?"

You shake your head, your voice trembling as you reply, "No, I just..." Satoru cuts you off, gripping your wrist harshly and pulling you towards the counter. You gasp in surprise, trying to pull away, but his grip is too strong.

He pushes you down on the counter, his dick pressing against your ass, the intensity of the contact leaving you breathless. His eyes bore into yours, the challenge in them undeniable. "Does he fuck you better than me?" he growls, his lips grazing your ear.

You struggle against him, your heart racing as you beg him to let you go. "Please, Satoru...let me go!" You plead, your voice shaking with fear and desperation. Satoru chuckles, his grip tightening around your wrist.

"Not until you realise, what a huge mistake you did by making me mad." he growls, grinding his erection against your ass harder. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to defy him.

Satoru pulls down your pants, revealing your ass. He smacks it hard, the sting of his hand making you yelp in shock. Before you can react, he slides his long, cold fingers inside you, groaning softly at the wetness he finds. His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he mocks you, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, well, looks like someone wants more of my cock even after saying she wants a break." He chuckles, twisting his fingers inside you roughly. His eyes are full of malicious.

You can't help but moan in spite of yourself, your body betraying your intentions. Your mind screams at you to fight back, but your body responds to his touch, betraying your resolve. Satoru's grin widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Looks like you can't resist me, princess," he taunts, thrusting his fingers deeper inside you. "Maybe you don't want a break, maybe you just want me to praise you while I go down on you."

Satoru grips your head tighter against the counter, his fingers thrusting into you relentlessly. Your body buckles under the onslaught, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. You moan loudly, unable to hold back your pleasure.

Within moments, you're screaming his name, your body convulsing as you cum hard. Satoru watches you with a satisfied smirk, his thumb rubbing your clit in time with his fingers. He continues to thrust into you, milking every last drop of your pleasure.

Satoru carries you mercilessly to your bedroom, leaving you with no time to rest. He quickly sets you down on the bed and his hands rich to unzip his pants. Desperate to get away, you try to crawl away, but he grabs your ankle and uses his weight to pin you down. With a flick of his wrist, he removes his blindfold, revealing his piercing blue eyes. Your heart races, fear and desire warring within you as he takes his blindfold and ties your hands above your head, effectively immobilizing you.

"Please, stop!" you plead, tears streaming down your face as you beg him to release you. "I'm sorry, I take back everything I said! I don't want this!" Your words hang in the air, heavy with regret and fear.

Satoru leans down, his gaze hard and unwavering. "The only sorry I accept is by your mouth showing me how sorry it is by sucking me off." He growls, his finger tracing the shape of your lips. Your heart races and your body trembles at the command.

He pulls himself in front of your head, and you hesitate, your heart racing in your chest. The room spins around you, and the scent of him overwhelms you. You understand you have no choice but to obey, swallow your pride, and submit.

Taking a deep breath, you wrap your lips around his shaft and reluctantly start sucking him off. Satoru growls in approval, his hand entwined in your hair, guiding you. Your mind screams at you to resist, but your body obeys him, your mouth moving rhythmically, pleasing him.

As you continue to suck him off, Satoru's grip in your hair tightens. His movements become more erratic, his breaths growing heavier. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and arousal coursing through you. You're determined to make this quick, hoping he'll release you soon.

You rest your head, waiting for him to untie you. But instead, he parts your legs, grinning wickedly as he rubs his cock against your clit. You flinch, but he doesn't hesitate. With a swift movement, he pushes into you, stretching you painfully. A cry escapes your lips, tears streaming down your face. You beg him, your voice trembling with fear and desperation. "Please, be gentle..."

Gojo grins, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Well, well, I thought you'd be fucking other guys, but you're still tight as hell." He says, thrusting harder into you. "Feels so fucking good." His voice is thick with lust, his movements becoming more aggressive.

Your body tenses, your mind spinning in the turmoil of conflicting emotions. You're angry, yet you can't deny the pleasure he brings you. His words fill you with shame, your skin burning with embarrassment. Despite your struggles, his grip on you is ironclad. You moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure washing over you as he continues to thrust into you. Your mind screams for him to stop, but your body betrays you, responding to his touch.

Every thrust is a reminder of your weakness, your inability to resist him. You can't help but wonder who else he's been with, who else has shared in this intimacy. A wave of jealousy washes over you, your heart beating wildly.

"Fuck, you're gushing," he growls, his hips thrusting into you with increasing intensity. He reaches down, pushing your top along with bra up, his fingers roughly pinching your nipple, twisting it. Your eyes widen, a gasp escaping your lips. "Yet you say you don't want it?" He grunts, his voice thick with dominance.

You can't help but moan, your body betraying your anger. His words echo in your mind, reminding you of your place. Despite your struggling, your body responds to his touch, your clit throbbing with each thrust.

Gojo mocks you, his voice dripping with venom. "What's that, are you enjoying it, slut?" He asks, his movements becoming more frenzied. "You think you can find someone better than me? Someone who fucks you better than me?"

His words cut deep, your heart racing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. You can't help but moan, your body betraying your anger. He laughs, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Look at you, begging for my cock, you worthless slut." Gojo sneers, his movements growing rougher. "I'm the strongest sorcerer in the world, and you think you can insult me? Ha!" He laughs, his eyes shining with malicious delight. "Listen up", he slows down his thrust making sure you listen to him instead of moaning, "Don't you dare bring that break up again, I own you, I own this pussy, I own your fucking heart, I know it, you love my baby and I love you too.. So let's.. let's be like before, me and you, together.. We can have a baby too, our own family .. so beautiful.", with that he starts pumping into you again hard and fast, desperate to fill you with his fertile seed.

Your cheeks burn with shame, your toes curling as his thrusts grow stronger and rougher, and just before you hit your orgasm, he pulls out, "That's what you get for disobeying me."

You gasp, your pussy gripping on to him as he pulls out. "That's what you get for disobeying me," he growls, his eyes blazing with anger. You feel a wave of disappointment wash over you, your orgasm cut short.

He stands over you, his chest heaving, his gaze locked on your face. You shrink under his gaze not daring to question him why he stopped, you know everything is your fault. NO, he made you believe everything is your fault, but you cannot help but accept it, you cannot help but accept his cock inside you.

Gojo leans down, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Look at you, clenching around nothing, desperate for my cock." He mocks, his hands gripping your thighs. "Worthless slut."

He licks your clit, a cruel smirk on his face. You whimper, your body trembling with need. His tongue teases your clit, your moans growing louder. He chuckles, enjoying your helplessness.

Gojo's hand glides over your body, his touch electric. "Do you want me to finish you off?" His voice is a combination of cruelty and seduction.

Your heart races, your body trembling with need. You nod, unable to speak, your mind filled with a mix of shame and lust. He grins, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Gojo raises an eyebrow, his gaze locked on your face. "Beg for it, slut." He demands, his voice thick with lust.

You hesitate, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. He slaps your pussy, making you jolt. "Beg," he repeats, his voice cold.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding, "please, make me cum..." You whisper, your voice barely audible.

Gojo's eyes squint, "Hmm, how about you say you love me 69 times then I will think of it."

Your eyes widen, your heart racing with a mix of anger and desperation. You know you have to do it. "I love you," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." Your voice grows stronger as you continue, each 'I love you' more genuine than the last.

Gojo watches you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He leans down, his tongue darting out to trace the curve of your clit. "Keep going.." He orders, his voice rough with desire

You nod, your face heating up with desire and shame. "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." You repeat, your voice growing stronger with each word.

Gojo's tongue traces your clit, his movements slow and deliberate. You moan, your body trembling with need. He smiles, his eyes locked on your face. "Good girl," he growls, his voice thick with lust.

He slips two fingers inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. "Keep going..."

Your heart races, your body trembling, "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." You repeat, your voice growing stronger with each word.

Gojo's fingers slide inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. You moan, your body shaking with need. He smiles, his eyes locked on your face. "Yes.. yes" He encourages, his voice rough with desire.

You continue to profess your love, your body trembling with a mix of desire and shame.

After what feels like an eternity, Gojo slides his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue. You whimper, your body trembling with anticipation.

He licks your clit, his tongue tracing the curve of your most sensitive spot. "Good girl," he praises you, his voice thick with lust. "Sixty-nine times, I counted each 'I love you.'" He chuckles, his eyes locked on your face. "That's a lot of love for me, baby," he teases, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, let's make you cum."

His tongue traces the your walls, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes locked on your face for your reaction. "You taste so good, so wet and needy."

Your abdomen shaking as you move your hips against his face, you cry out, your body trembling with pleasure as you cum. You collapse there, your heart pounding with a mix of ecstasy and shame.

"Untie me now," you plead, your voice shaking with emotion. But Gojo shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, "Nah uh, not till I cum, filling your little pussy."

He inserts himself back inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. Your pussy is oversensitive, making you cry out in pain. "No more," you beg, your voice filled with desperation.

Gojo grits his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as he feels your walls clenching around him uncontrollably. He slows his pace, allowing you time to adjust to your oversensitivity.

As you recover, he starts thrusting into you, his movements slow and deliberate at first. His pace gradually increases, his eyes locked on your face. "You like being a slut for your boyfriend, isn't it?" He growls, his voice thick with lust.

You moan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and pain. "Yes," you admit, not caring about your self respect anymore.

As he thrusts into you, his movements become faster, his eyes locked on your face. "Good girl," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "You're such a good little whore, aren't you?"

You moan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and pain. "Yes," you admit, not caring about your self-respect anymore. "I'm your little slut."

Gojo chuckles, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Hmphh, keep squeezing me.. A-ah," he growls, his pace increasing even more.

Your eyes roll at the way he's choking and fucking you like a monster, his hands around your neck, his thrusts relentless. Gojo leans down, his lips colliding with yours in a rough kiss.

You moan into his mouth, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and fear. He pulls back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Hah! You gonna cum again?," he mocks.

You groan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and fear. "Yes.. Hngh- please I am gonna cum again" You admit, your voice shaking with emotion.

As he thrusts into you, his movements become frenzied. "Y/N, let's... try it again.. together... Can't you imagine? How lovely you will look with your tummy swollen and round with my baby, and milk flowing from your breasts. Just think of it", he bites his lips imaging all of that. He unties your hands, letting them grip onto anything they find.

Your mind is unable to make out his words, you just nod, taking his cock like a doll.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your skin as he sucks on your nipple. "Gonna fill you, hmmph," whimpers escape his lips, "You are so obedient for me baby."

As Gojo nears his climax, his thrusts become frantic, his movements fierce. You cry out, your body trembling with pleasure and pain.

His thrusts become stronger, his movements more intense. Your walls clench around him, milking him as you cum again. He roars, his eyes locked on your face. "Yes, cum for me, baby, cum for your strongest boyfriend," he growls, his voice thick with lust.

He fills you with his seed, his movements slowing as he finishes. "You did well, baby," he pants, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He loosens his grip on your neck, allowing you to breathe.

You collapse against him, your heart racing with a mix of pleasure and fear. "F' me, am your little.. slut.. ." You whisper, before passing out .

Gojo's lips caress your bruised neck, licking them before giving you a small peck on your lips. "I love you, Y/N, I appreciate you," he mutters, his voice thick with lust. "But I ain't gonna spoil you."

He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Both of you fall asleep in each other's arms, exhausted from the passionate night.

In the darkness of the night, he whispers in your ear, "Never gonna let you escape me, my little play thing."

[pyxxiestyxx]

Humans are Made to be Pets

"I don't fucking believe you." I laughed in response. I mean, how could I not? I've been perfectly fine as an independent for years. I've made plenty of friends (independents, affini, AND florets), but my favorite friend was definitely Her.

Jaz was an oldbloom of some kind. She refused to tell me the actual number, and I wasn't going to press it. But you bet your ass I was going to outright deny it when she says some Bloomer-ass bullshit like, "Humans are made to be pets, Petal~"

She tilted her head, as if surprised. "Did no one tell you, dear?" I frowned.

"What do you mean exactly?"

Jaz hid a chuckle behind some vines. "Flower, I've been around for a while. I've seen thousands of species. Some of them were almost extinct by the time we found them, and some were far more technologically advanced than the Accord ever was. But out of all of them -all of them, darling- I have yet to find a sophont who wouldn't make a perfect silly pet. Why do you think terrans would be any different?"

I sputtered. "No! No, that's ridiculous. Beeple I can understand, to some extent. They evolved alongside you, and your reproduction at least used to co-exist. You both needed each other. Humans are different."

"Oh, in some ways perhaps! Its true that we were able to work with beeple, but there are a few things that, in order for humans to have gotten where they were, were required to happen." She held up three fingers.

"One. Humanity are social creatures. I'm quite sure I don't need to argue this point. Its been an observation many have noticed. But it still matters that, despite your culture's best attempts to sequester everyone into individual homes and away from communities…you all crave that interaction, that exchange. You Look for it." One finger went down.

"Two. Humanity are intelligent creatures. They learned so much, and fought for their place on the top of the food chain. It was truly incredible to learn your histories! Being able to learn from another's mistakes? An important skill to have, and one that allows for rapid growth of a civilization. And also allows for you to be manipulated, controlled, really; a rock cannot hear my arguments, after all. You Listen all too well. " Two fingers were closed, now. Her thumb remained.

"Three. Humanity are hierarchical creatures. Ever since that whole 'survival of the fittest', terrans seem intent on having everything ranked, everything in relation to the things better or worse than it. It's what worked on Terra, and I don't judge you all for using the tools given to you! But it means, at the end of the day…that culturally speaking? Humanity was going to see itself as either above the Compact, or below it, part of it, inside it." She smiled. "And I think it would be fair to say that the Accord winning was not a valid concern. So when something bigger and stronger comes along? You learn to Accept it."

I was frozen. I didn't…I couldn't…I couldn't think. I was a bubbling mixture of terrified and in awe, looking up at her. My knees wobbled as she gently cupped my cheek, sliding her hand down to my chin.

"Sweet thing~ Its alright. I know that this is a lot to learn, that it sounds scary to you. Perhaps you felt yourself on equal terms to an affini. And in many ways, you are right~ I will always treat you with love and respect, just as I would treat any sophont, any floret. But at the end of the day, my dear…" Her eyes drew me in. There were so many of them, all looking at me. Pinning me underneath their careful stare, somehow both alien and familiar, gentle yet controlling, above me and beside me. Watching as I looked, as I listened, as I accepted.

"An affini's task is to care for pets, and your task is to be cared for~"

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

maidenless board game club headcanons

Time to bully Azul and Idia :)) I often picture their club meetings being just them shit talking the other person and calling them rizzless…

Any and all mentions of the reader are meant to be gender neutral; gendered terms may still appear in these headcanons, but never in reference to the reader.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Azul likes to think he’s suave and could bag “anyone he set his mind to.” Eh, why hasn’t he tried to woo anyone then? For him, he states it’s a matter of pride!! He would never be emotionally vulnerable to just anyone, you know. A-And besides, he’s focusing on his business and personal growth right now, he doesn’t have the time to toy with hearts! (Or so Azul insists.)

The reality is, he has never kissed anyone outside of his family. Just soft pecks on the cheeks in greeting, mainly to his mother and grandma. Azul would never admit this out loud though, he thinks it detracts from his “cool” persona.

The thing about Azul is that he overthinks EVERYTHING. He’ll sit there and map out every possible thing that could happen on a date and how he will prepare to handle them. This includes what to say and when he should smile when speaking… He’s charming, yes, and starts off with a strong first impression—but he also tends to come off as too rehearsed or humble bragging about his accomplishments.

Azul’s desperate for a S/O not because he wants one per se, but because he wants validation that he is, in fact, attractive and desirable. After all, he made such an effort to change himself and to come off as confident, intelligent, and capable. He would like to bask in the reassurance that his efforts were worth it, because now he can “have” whoever he wants.

Aaand therein lies another problem. Azul is still stuck in the mindset that relationships are transactional. You do a favor for him? Well, he has to match it. He gives you a gift? Then he expects one back. Yet Azul keeps himself to an emotional distance, too afraid to be completely honest about his flaws.

Idia thinks the issue is Azul’s personality. When Azul demands to know what exactly his clubmate means by that. Idia just sneers and goes off on a tirade. According to him, Azul-shi may look like he’s got everything put together, but since he’s actually a greedy scumbag, no amount of expensive cologne or nice clothes can cover up a rotten core.

Sometimes he and Idia just head back to the Mostro Lounge and pour one out (non-alcoholic drinks like fruit juice) to drown their sorrows. Jade and Floyd show great interest in these sessions, but Azul is cautious about letting any truly embarrassing experiences slip out.

The twins will occasionally dare him to snag a date with whichever random person walks through the doors to the Mostro Lounge next. Azul initially took these as personal challenges and did his utmost to win these dares, but after a string of embarrassing flops he now knows better than to be baited.

Idia is scared of 3D people and prefers to stick to his anime waifus and aidorus. REAL people could never compare! They’re too flawed and unpredictable—and, worst of all, they don’t come with dialogue options and affection meters to help Idia gauge what to do/say and when the Love Flags will trigger! What’s an introverted otaku to do?

He’s the type to openly disparage happy couples and love while secretly craving the warm touch of a flesh and blood person in the depths of his soul. His ideal is a kawaii gamer who’s into all the same things he is! … Unfortunately, he’s way too shy and unconfident to ever take a stab at it!! This is his way of coping.

He goes into the chats of his favorite streamers and tosses tons of money to get his comment read and to be noticed. Idia is the type to get super parasocial with the objects of his affection (he owns all the merch, goes to the events (virtually), has had a membership since day 1, etc.), even if he scoffs at the idea when directly confronted about it.

Literally bro spends his free time moderating Discord servers and Subreddits to complain about dating. Oh, but then the INSTANT he learns a user is single he starts treating them completely differently, calling them cute and his kitten or whatever. It’s amazing how much boldness he gains from behind the safety and comfort of a screen.

He doesn’t realize the value Ortho has as a wingman. Some people are super into the idea of doting on a younger sibling or dating a guy that loves his family—but Idia never brings these up as aspects of himself. Idia often vents about dating to his little bro and then tells Ortho he’s so lucky he doesn’t have to put up with stupid complex human emotions like love. Ortho just stares at him and begs his big bro to not get catfished.

He unfortunately drives people off with his sometimes pompous attitude. He’ll challenge others’ knowledge about his favorite media and get into extended arguments with them about the subjects he’s passionate about. Only “true” fan are allowed here! If you don’t get it, Idia will mansplain to you for hours at a time over VC.

Idia’s frequently the first to instigate (verbal) fights with Azul over their appeal in the dating scene. Offended, Azul usually fires back with some remark about how Idia hasn’t even witnessed him making eye contact with a REAL living, breathing woman. “Fictional women and a ghost bride do NOT count!”

You're nice to Idia ONCE (like, you let him borrow a pencil because he forgot his for an exam) and BOOM instantly this guy is lurking in the corners, giggling creepily ("Hihihihihi...") and shyly watching you from a distance. He's way too anxious to actually try and shoot his shot, but now he's fully convinced you're into him. (Idia lives out his fantasies with you in life sim games to cope with not having you irl 💀)