#Tw child abuse mention

[torchflies]

Hi TG Fandom!

@xtherainbowconnectionx mentioned Texan Ice to me and I cannot get him out of my head. 

Just, a Tom Kazansky who was raised out in Nowhere, Texas and didn't really wear shoes until he was old enough for school. 

An Ice who was called Junie or Junior growing up and the only son of a bullfighter and a barrel racer who fell in love at the local Rodeo. 

Maybe he was the only child of a mother who died too soon, died bringing him into the world too early because it was 1959 and they lived so far from town. He was small and pink and Tom Kazansky Sr. was so desperate that he popped his newborn son in a basket and put him in the oven to keep him warm. 

He gives his name to that little boy because it’s all he has to give, a name from a place he's never been and the deed to his dead Mama’s farm. 

I need a Tom Senior who tries so hard but doesn't understand his son. Ice has dreams of flying and something beyond sorghum fields and Tom Senior loves his son with all his heart but doesn't really know him. He didn't know his own Daddy beyond the buckle of a belt. He raised his son with all the goodness he could muster. 

He doesn't want his little boy to go to a place that he can't protect him and the only thing he knows about the military is the boys who didn't come home from ‘Nam. 

He can't vocalize his fears though, so he tells his boy not to come back without a chest full of metals and golden wings. 

Then he cries in his barn with no company but the stars. 

Ice comes home with a loudmouthed boy who is small and wiry and reminds Tom Senior of himself — running away to the Rodeo to fight bulls that were less scary than his own drunk of a daddy. 

He loves his boy, who is the sun that rises and sets, the thing that Tom Senior’s world revolves around. But there is no poetry in their life and he's just a man, but he opens the door wide enough to usher both men inside. 

“Y’all can bunk down in Junior’s room. It’s mighty fine to me.” 

It’s love, in the only way Tom Senior can express it. 

Just — Texan Ice is giving me feelings. 

[aspd-culture]

Welcome back. You’re very informative.

I’m very confused about how numerous people, from you, to other antisocial people speaking from their experiences (some of which I learned are actually friends) to prosocial researchers of ASPD say that antisocial people see relationships as transactional. It’s not weird that you guys see it that way, it’s more like “and prosocials… don’t???” Because I’m certain I’m prosocial. I’m neurodivergent, sure, but no signs of ASPD. So, how do most prosocial people typically view relationships if they’re not transactional?

So I find prosocials and pwASPD both tend to think “but doesn’t everybody” when we hear this - it’s a super undescriptive term - but we’re thinking different things define something as transactional. We also see the reason for that transaction to be different.

From a prosocial generally, they’ll mean “I only want to be around people that ‘don’t drain my energy’, that don’t just take take take, that we mutually enjoy the friendship/relationship and want to be around each other”. That’s kinda their definition of getting something out of it, and they want everyone to get something out of it. If they’re draining you, they want you to be free of it so you can be happy, and the transactions involved can be purely emotional/vibes. The reason they feel this way is a desire for positive and enjoyable social connection; the consequence for an uneven/bad/missing transaction is discomfort and wasting their time in negative experiences and generally feeling bad in association with that person.

PwASPD see those transactions very very literally. There’s no vibes nor emotions in the transactions, those are either a reaction to the transaction or a bonus. We mean that we are getting something tangible or practical out of it. Rides, help with things we can’t or don’t want to do alone, sex, maybe even the social relief from the annoyance of “why don’t you ever talk to anyone?” coming from all sides. We also don’t always care if it’s even on the other person’s end. If they’re ok driving me everywhere/if they do it and don’t say or show they’re uncomfortable, then I will assume they are fine with that piece of the transaction. If I’m taking more than I’m giving and they seem chill with that then I’ll accept it. However, I won’t give them *nothing* and that’s because of our reason for transactions - it’s dangerous otherwise. First off, I have shit I need I can’t get myself as much as it sucks, so I need to be around people. But if we need something from them, what we learned in our childhoods is that we don’t get that for free. There’s always something over your head. A lot of pwASPD had friends or caregivers that would hold favors or even *basic, legally-mandated caregiving* over our heads as though we didn’t deserve it. Often our value was determined as a child by what we provided, and since children can’t provide much, we were worthless and not deserving of good treatment.

This is part of the reason (TW non-descriptive CSA mention, skip to the next paragraph if you want) that people thought ASPD was directly correlated with CSA for a long time - many cases of long term CSA come from either “I’ll give you x/do x for you if you help me with this” or worse, doing something first then saying “but I gave you X!/did X for you! I wouldn’t have if I knew you’d act like this”, often call us selfish if we tried to say no and maybe get aggressive or forceful after, and that is an easy lead-in to our view of interactions.

So a lot of us see it that if we want to be safe/know we can continue to get what we need, we HAVE to be giving them something. If you claim you like being around me “just to be around me” or worse that you’re willing to do something for me “just because I want to”, that’s not safe. You want something from me and I’ll give it to you - just tell me what it is. If you’re not telling me, that means it’s not good or you’re just gonna decide later that I’m selfish. You might hurt me to get what you want and justify it with this. Take something from my side so we’re even, because even means safe. Even means I get access to what I need and you get access to what you need - so now we’re both using this relationship/friendship/etc for something and you wouldn’t wanna mess that up by putting me in danger any more than I’d want to mess it up by putting you in danger.

Of course, not every prosocial sees it the first way and not every pwASPD had those experiences and/or sees it that way. But that’s what I’ve found to be common. If you see “they make me happy” as what your or their end of the transaction is, it’s definitely a prosocial response, maybe with the exception of thinking of it as “getting their brain to dopamine/oxytocin” vs caring how they’re actually feeling. If not, if you need it to be practical, that’s definitely transactional.

It’s important to note this is personal relationships with no practical consequences to ending the relationship - most people see relationships (platonic) with coworkers or managers as transactional and that’s a way I usually explain it to prosocials (“do you deal with your boss bc you like them or bc they sign your check - and would your boss keep you hired if you didn’t do your job because you make them happy just by being there?”). But with a romantic or sexual partner, a friend, etc. this is not a typical view of relationships.

That said - you can *absolutely* not have ASPD and have transactional view of relationships. It’s not a 1:1 thing there; not everyone with ASPD has it and not every prosocial doesn’t. It’s just a really common piece of the puzzle that is this personality disorder.

Edit: ack I’m so sorry I forgot to add the csa tw tags they’re there now.

Plain text below the cut:

So I find prosocials and pwASPD both tend to think “but doesn’t everybody” when we hear this - it’s a super undescriptive term - but we’re thinking different things define something as transactional. We also see the reason for that transaction to be different.

From a prosocial generally, they’ll mean “I only want to be around people that ‘don’t drain my energy’, that don’t just take take take, that we mutually enjoy the friendship/relationship and want to be around each other”. That’s kinda their definition of getting something out of it, and they want everyone to get something out of it. If they’re draining you, they want you to be free of it so you can be happy, and the transactions involved can be purely emotional/vibes. The reason they feel this way is a desire for positive and enjoyable social connection; the consequence for an uneven/bad/missing transaction is discomfort and wasting their time in negative experiences and generally feeling bad in association with that person.

PwASPD see those transactions very very literally. There’s no vibes nor emotions in the transactions, those are either a reaction to the transaction or a bonus. We mean that we are getting something tangible or practical out of it. Rides, help with things we can’t or don’t want to do alone, sex, maybe even the social relief from the annoyance of “why don’t you ever talk to anyone?” coming from all sides. We also don’t always care if it’s even on the other person’s end. If they’re ok driving me everywhere/if they do it and don’t say or show they’re uncomfortable, then I will assume they are fine with that piece of the transaction. If I’m taking more than I’m giving and they seem chill with that then I’ll accept it. However, I won’t give them *nothing* and that’s because of our reason for transactions - it’s dangerous otherwise. First off, I have shit I need I can’t get myself as much as it sucks, so I need to be around people. But if we need something from them, what we learned in our childhoods is that we don’t get that for free. There’s always something over your head. A lot of pwASPD had friends or caregivers that would hold favors or even *basic, legally-mandated caregiving* over our heads as though we didn’t deserve it. Often our value was determined as a child by what we provided, and since children can’t provide much, we were worthless and not deserving of good treatment.

This is part of the reason (TW non-descriptive CSA mention, skip to the next paragraph if you want) that people thought ASPD was directly correlated with CSA for a long time - many cases of long term CSA come from either “I’ll give you x/do x for you if you help me with this” or worse, doing something first then saying “but I gave you X!/did X for you! I wouldn’t have if I knew you’d act like this”, often call us selfish if we tried to say no and maybe get aggressive or forceful after, and that is an easy lead-in to our view of interactions.

So a lot of us see it that if we want to be safe/know we can continue to get what we need, we HAVE to be giving them something. If you claim you like being around me “just to be around me” or worse that you’re willing to do something for me “just because I want to”, that’s not safe. You want something from me and I’ll give it to you - just tell me what it is. If you’re not telling me, that means it’s not good or you’re just gonna decide later that I’m selfish. You might hurt me to get what you want and justify it with this. Take something from my side so we’re even, because even means safe. Even means I get access to what I need and you get access to what you need - so now we’re both using this relationship/friendship/etc for something and you wouldn’t wanna mess that up by putting me in danger any more than I’d want to mess it up by putting you in danger.

Of course, not every prosocial sees it the first way and not every pwASPD had those experiences and/or sees it that way. But that’s what I’ve found to be common. If you see “they make me happy” as what your or their end of the transaction is, it’s definitely a prosocial response, maybe with the exception of thinking of it as “getting their brain to dopamine/oxytocin” vs caring how they’re actually feeling. If not, if you need it to be practical, that’s definitely transactional.

It’s important to note this is personal relationships with no practical consequences to ending the relationship - most people see relationships (platonic) with coworkers or managers as transactional and that’s a way I usually explain it to prosocials (“do you deal with your boss bc you like them or bc they sign your check - and would your boss keep you hired if you didn’t do your job because you make them happy just by being there?”). But with a romantic or sexual partner, a friend, etc. this is not a typical view of relationships.

That said - you can *absolutely* not have ASPD and have transactional view of relationships. It’s not a 1:1 thing there; not everyone with ASPD has it and not every prosocial doesn’t. It’s just a really common piece of the puzzle that is this personality disorder.

Edit: ack I’m so sorry I forgot to add the csa tw tags they’re there now.

[mossy-opal]

Must Be Doin' Somethin' Right

Kai Chisaki x Reader

Content Warnings: Depressive Thoughts, Murder Mentions, Child Abuse Mentions, SMUT, Dominant Reader, Edging, Guided Masturbation, I think that's it, it I missed something tell me

The legal system was no help after his release, even if he was deemed "harmless". Despite knowing full well what he was capable of, they still put him back out on the streets, on probation of course. They kept him under lock and key for the most part, if he went anywhere or did anything, someone would know about it. He had to report to his probation officer once a week, and every visit was as uneventful as the last.

After all, what could a man with no arms manage to accomplish? It was pathetic, how far he'd fallen from grace.

He needed help, more help than anyone was willing to give. In order to get help, legally at least, he needed to sign certain forms. That would work, if he had arms.

Kai Chisaki, once a man whom many feared to cross, now lay in his dingy, disgusting apartment, in dirty clothes, with stubble on his face, just a moment away from putting himself out of his own misery.

Hearing a knock on his door, he didn't even get up, if it was his probation officer they'd let themselves in regardless. When a new person walked in with a smug look on their face, that got his attention. He sat up, looking up at the individual with a glare.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

They laughed, leaning against the wall, "From you? Nothing. I'm actually here to offer you a deal, Overhaul."

Hearing his old villain name got his attention, his eyes widening.

"You'd better be careful with that name, who knows who could be listening…" He warned.

The stranger shook their head, "Not to worry, I'm actually a family friend of your probation officer, that's why and how I know where you live! Now, do you wanna know why I'm here, Chisaki?"

He didn't answer, only glaring.

"Well, I'm here to offer a deal, like I said. Favours for favours, if you catch my drift…"

Kai thought about it for a moment, then shook his head, "I have nothing for you here, you can see yourself out-"

"Oh but you do! Y'see, I find myself in a bit of a pickle," They started walking towards his bed, squatting down to his level. "I'm not exactly the strongest person in the world y'see, and you, well you have seen better days- But I can help you if you can help me! I need a handyman, a workin' man, if you wanna call it that- You can be my man!"

Kai blinked, ".... Uh huh… Well, as I said, I'm not exactly in the position to be, as you so eloquently put it, a working man."

As he said that, he lifted what's left of his arms, before glaring at the stranger again.

"Now, get the fuck out."

The person stood up, stretching, "Alright, alright, I'll leave you to wallow in self pity- Didn't even give me a chance to state my half of the bargain…"

Kai grunted, not interested in whatever this person was selling- "Would be a real shame though, I could get you some amazing prosthetics. I know a guy."

They shrugged, turning on their heel. "But, you said no, so-"

"Wait."

They stopped, a grin on their face before turning back to Kai, who was now standing.

"Yes…?"

He hesitated, which from what the stranger had heard, was very unlike him.

"I'll help you with whatever you need me to help you with, so long as I get those prosthetics first."

"Oh absolutely! I'm not a monster, I wouldn't make you do shit you can't do, just for my own amusement! When you get your nice new prosthetics, then we can shake on it- Deal~?"

He glared once more with a sneer, before he nodded.

"Deal."

That was how he met you.

From then on he was, unfortunately, indebted to you. You had him moved from his crummy apartment and into your own house, on a farm. It was no wonder you wanted help, there was a lot of work to be done. Despite him insisting he didn't need to know anything about you, you went ahead and told him nearly everything about you and your life. It was like nails on a chalkboard, being in your presence, even if you helped him. To make matters worse, many of your ideals aligned with his own, just to a far less extreme.

You didn't have a quirk, your family never had quirks, and you believed the stereotypes of quirks and the society built around them was flawed. Even in passing, you had mentioned how much better things would've been had quirks never appeared.

However, despite the similarities between the two of you, Kai was certain that he hated you.

You were loud, obnoxiously so. You were far too lax for your own good. Eventually, acting the way you did would either get you hurt or killed- He couldn't wait for the day. You weren't messy, which was a good thing, but still, you were simply gross. Being in your presence alone would've given him hives, had he not been in poor living conditions prior.

He told himself that often, almost as if he was reminding himself you were gross. His mantra was said even more often while you were helping him around the farm. You took your shirt off far too often, each time you did so made him nearly vomit. That habit being a part of that relaxed personality that he despised.

Even if you helped him, he was as cold and cruel as you'd heard. It posed a challenge to you, but eventually, you got bored. He wouldn't let you in, which was fine, he didn't have to- But having him around was to help with that loneliness you felt. Your parents were long dead, and with no other real family, you were bored. You were lonely. Even with Kai around, he was only there to fulfil his debt to you, he made that abundantly clear.

Oh, well there's an idea.

If he didn't want to get to know you or share with you, that was fine, but he owed you. Why not cash in? Maybe indulge a little? With your intentions known, Kai… Didn't know what to do. You started asking him to do many other chores around the house, practically kicking back while he took over cooking and cleaning. It disgusted him, how much of a "house-husband" he had become. Despite that, you were still rough with him, a vast difference from anyone else he'd ever known. The people he surrounded himself with were always useful, obedient to him, never looking him in the eyes.

You, on the other hand, practically looked down your nose at him. He didn't know how to handle your demands, he wanted to bite back, more than anything, but… But he didn't. He never bit back with more than a snide comment or a grumbling insult, but he never raised his voice or his hand against you, and it left him baffled.

It wasn't because he respected you, it wasn't because he felt so indebted to you that he didn't fight back. It wasn't because he wanted your praise, he never-

"Such a good boy~"

You had said it in passing, more like a joke than anything, but it still struck something in him. A chord that's never been strung, a new song they played in the back of his mind. He'd been praised before, but never like that.

It was disgusting, how he had a physical reaction such as that, he was ashamed of himself, how violated he felt.

That was when he bit back with more force.

"Don't you dare speak to me like I'm a fucking dog!"

"Oooh, careful pup, might have'ta muzzle ya because of that bite- Haha!"

Your nonchalant response proved it was, in fact, supposed to be a joke. But the visceral reaction he had was very much serious. He's never felt such a jolt before, not even when he had his first successful test of the quirk removing bullet. It felt similar to his first intimate interaction with a woman, but he hated how that felt. So in turn, he hated how he felt now.

How dare you.

All because you seemed to enjoy torturing him, you had the audacity to start teasing him more often, which he was not happy about in the slightest. It made him feel sick, it made everything feel too hot, it made him feel clammy, it made him grind his teeth, and he despised it, but not as much as he despised you, because you kept doing it.

So why didn't he just leave?

You had given him prosthetics, let him freely roam your farm land, given him more than enough payment for his work so he could survive on his own- But there was one problem.

He was still on probation, and he would be for the foreseeable future.

Who's to say you wouldn't take him to court for not paying you back for the prosthetics you so graciously provided him? If you did that, and you would, he would be put right back into Tartarus to pay for his crimes. Then he would really be a shame to the Shie Hassaikai, more than he is now. No, he had to see this through to the eventual end. It would take a long time, but if there was one thing he was confident in, it was his patience.

Although, that in it of itself was a tall task. You pressed him, you pushed him, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. The only thing he could do was whatever you asked him to do. Help you with the farming and yard work, help you move lumber and firewood, help you keep your chickens in place, clean up… Whatever you needed, he would begrudgingly do for you.

Unfortunately, it all came to a head one day, while his probation officer was in for a visit. You usually stepped out for them, but decided to stick around today, for whatever reason.

Now, truth be told, he wasn't very fond of his probation officer. They were far more rude to him than you were, making snide comments while asking questions, brazing remarks when he didn't answer fast enough. Well, their behaviour didn't change, even with you in the room. If anything, it was more harsh than usual. You were oddly quiet for the most part.

"Well, good to know you're finally on a leash-"

"Can you stop?"

When you spoke up, Kai looked over at you, as did his probation officer, who scoffed.

"What? It's not like you treat him any differently. He's a murderer-"

"Yeah well he's still human, and I'd appreciate it if you spoke to him in a better tone. You are in my house after all."

"Pfft- Better tone? As if! He doesn't deserve a better tone, and who the hell are you to tell me how to speak to him? You do the exact same thing!"

"I really fuckin' don't, you can believe that! He may have done some horrible shit, but so far he's come a long way, no thanks t' you! It was only after I stepped in he actually started making the changes your court system says he has to make!"

"He is a child abuser and a murderer, not some project for you to work on!"

"Oh as if you give a shit about children! How many murderers are running that stupid fuckin' government funded 'hero agency' you fuckin' worship!? Get outta my house, the next time you come here, you better behave yourself, or I'm reporting you for misconduct!"

"Get bent, you stupid bitch!"

Practically shoving his probation officer out of your house, Kai watched the entire thing with wide eyes and confusion clearly on his face. Of all people, he wouldn't expect you to stand up for him. You never once excused what he did, you reminded him more than he reminded himself, he was a bad person. Yet, you defended him from mistreatment.

"Why did you do that?" He asked.

"Do what?"

Kai rolled his eyes, "Don't act like an idiot. Why did you defend me?"

You shrugged, "Good question- I dunno, suppose I just don't care for unnecessary bullying."

Kai shook his head, "You bully me all the time-"

"Well yeah, but like I told them, it's different."

"How is it different?"

"I don't mean for it to actually hurt you, just t' sorta… Remind you of where you stand~"

That answered no questions for him, and as he watched you walk away, he didn't expect to have any of his questions answered.

However, it didn't matter much as time went on. The two of you worked in somewhat synchronicity with one another, your teasing being met with his own, eventually. His probationary visits had also been lowered, from once a week, to once a month, due to his good behaviour. That only aided his high spirits, taking him one step closer to being a truly free man once again. Time moved on, day by day, the two of you only being visited quarterly after some massive improvements on Chisaki's attitude. As well as a change in his probation officer. That rude individual had been replaced with a kind little old woman. He didn't want to question why or how that happened without his knowing, he knew you wouldn't answer.

You were odd to him. Your bullying was far less harsh now, if you could even call it bullying. Kai wouldn't call it bullying, because it really wasn't at this point. If anything, it was an odd way of flirting. The most troubling new development, was his inability to descern if he hated it or not. He was certain your flirting was annoying, but it came to his attention, eventually, that he enjoyed it. You flattered him, made him feel- Odd.

But as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't bring himself to hate the treatment. So much so, that he found it odd when you didn't flirt with him. Everything about the situation was just downright strange. He still didn't understand why you would help him like this, why you would defend him, why you would flatter him the way you did, why-

"It's getting cold out."

His attention snapped from the food he was making, to you coming inside from the evening.

"What?"

"It's getting cold outside, we gotta make sure the harvest is good, get some supplies from the city, then we should be set for the winter."

That was another thing you did that he found odd. You told him about your plans, and expected input from him, as if he had a choice.

"So, wanna come with me this time?"

He looked back at you, confused. "What?"

"Jeez, do I need to get your hearing checked out or somethin'?"

He clicked his tongue, "I heard you fine, what do you mean when you ask-"

"What the hell do you think I mean? I'm askin' you if you wanna join me to go into the city, not for your hand in marriage! It's not that complicated~"

Kai rolled his eyes and shook his head, "No, thank you. I would need to fill out a form in order to leave the property, and frankly I don't want to."

Your talking and teasing was drowned out after he said that, as he was thinking to himself about the realisation he just came to. He didn't want to leave. Despite everything…

But, you were right about it getting cold outside. The summer months slowly turned to fall, the leaves turning colour, and the sky darkening sooner. The two of you were able to harvest nearly everything before the first snow fall, and that was when Kai noticed just how badly the cold made him feel. Before, he was used to the cold, if anything, he preferred it. But now, it hurt him. It made his arms sore, as if they were heavier than how he was used to, and it was honestly horrible. Not only that, he felt useless now, watching you go in and out to retrieve fire wood or eggs, while he sat inside and did near to nothing. Despite your reassurance, he still felt… Disappointed. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed in himself, or disappointed that he was disappointing you. It never mattered before, how you felt about him, at least that's what he told himself, so why did it matter now?

What's worse, you noticed.

"Seasonal depression kicking your ass?"

He looked up from the fire to you, "What?"

You sat down next to him, handing him a mug of hot chocolate.

"Well, you've been real quiet lately, even after I annoy you, so something must be up."

He blinked, never having really paid it much attention before now.

"I…. Think I'm just not used to feeling this way. I hate feeling this way."

"Oh I getcha, I could only imagine how bad you must've felt when I found you-"

"That's just it, I think now I feel worse."

You looked at him, and he looked at you.

"When you found me, you… Gave me a new chance, an opportunity to help myself. As much as it pains me, I'm grateful to you, for that… But now, I can't help you. I can't do anything but watch you work, and it makes me so angry because… Because if I can't help you, what am I good for?"

You were silent, only making his thoughts run rampant.

"I can't seem to do anything correct, because everytime I've tried to do something meaningful with my life, it lands me right back at square one- Where I feel useless and pitiful, and frankly I'm disgusted with myself for allowing myself to feel this way, again. You found me and… Gave me a purpose. You put me to work, and as much of a bitch as you are, you've helped me…"

You snorted at that.

".... But now I'm sat here on your couch, in your house, wallowing yet again, because I can't help you more than you've helped me."

With that off his chest, he felt marginally better, but that darkness surrounded his mind yet again, before you spoke up.

"Well, if it makes you feel better you don't owe me anything anymore."

He looked at you again, "What do you mean?"

You shrugged, "I said what I mean, you don't-"

"No, that's not how this works, these prosthetics alone have costed you-"

"Don't worry about it, think of 'em as a gift."

He thought for a moment.

"And the allowance?"

You shrugged again, "Payment for your labour."

"And the room?"

"A place to stay that's not rat infested~"

"And the clothes? And the food? What about everything you've done for me- My probation being altered! I know you had a hand in that as well! So what do you mean I don't owe you anything? There is no way-"

You suddenly grabbed his jaw, something you've only ever done to fluster him on purpose, but it certainly shut him up.

"Will ya just shut your mouth and take what I give you? Fuck, you act like I saved you from some final destination death or whatever- I'm just being nice. Is that such a foreign concept to you?"

When you let him go, he was still silent. Did you not grasp the concept of debt? Especially for someone like him, whose whole life surrounded the teachings of the Yakuza, and how debts must be repayed. What you were doing for him went against everything he was used to, everything he'd ever known, and yet… He was somewhat okay with it.

Not entirely, he still had many questions, but he tried to ignore his nagging curiosity.

You were odd.

After that you made it a point to be as obnoxiously helpful as possible, to the point where Kai just had to look at something, and you would get it for him. It was annoying and it made Kai want to yell at you for making him feel so- So…. Pampered. In the end, that's all you were doing for him. Of course there were limits, you wouldn't help him with his prosthetics or get his clothes, but you were still helping him with damn near everything. He would ask you why, and you would shrug as per usual and give a half-hearted excuse,

"'Cus I wanna!"

But never more than that. Never a full explanation for why you did what you did. After all, you didn't have to. You teased him about it as well, making him flush and feel embarrassed, even if he knew you meant no harm in it. With the new development, came a new feeling Kai had been ignoring for quite some time.

…

By no means was Kai Chisaki a virgin. In his pursuits, he was sure to experiment at least once, despite the very particular parameters his paid-for partner had to follow. He was aware that sexual intimacy was nothing to write home about- It was far too complicated of a process to really get into it or pay more attention to it then he needed.

Unfortunately, this time with you had his curiosity reignited. His mind began to wander to places he had never ventured before, that prospect scared and intrigued him all at the same time. He wondered how your bare skin would feel against his. Would your hands be soft against him, or hard? Which one did he want more? He wondered how it would feel if he surrendered to you completely- Would you be kind, or would you be cruel?

Why did he hope for the latter?

So many thoughts would come to mind, and often at the worst of times- Sitting next to you, at dinner, while he would watch you chop firewood out in the cold, your jacket taken off to account for your labour, despite your red nose and rosy cheeks- That was the safest time for the thoughts to arise. When you were too busy with something else, when he could watch you for hours, and you didn't even notice.

At least, that's what he had originally thought.

"Hey, why have you been starin' at me?"

That question made him nearly choke on his food.

"Ha! What, didja think I wouldn't notice? Why else would I take off my shirt in this cold ass weather~?"

"H-how long have you known…?"

"Eh, a few weeks I think."

He scoffed, before getting up.

"Hey, where ya goin'!?"

"To my room."

You got up after him and practically started chasing him down, before you were finally able to get a proper hold of him. He didn't struggle much, it would hurt if he did.

"Let go of me-"

You laughed, "Nope! Not until you tell me why you like to stare at me~"

"Fuck you, you know why!"

"Oh we will, soon as you tell me~"

He stopped moving, looking at you.

"What?"

"What~?"

"What did you just say?"

"Mmmm, I don't think I'm repeating myself~"

Kai was lost on how to feel, unsure if he should feel scared or aroused by you… But, he was far too curious for his own good.

"And what if I was staring at you because…. Because I find you attractive?"

You moved closer to him, your warmth giving him goosebumps, as you breathed against his neck.

"I think I'd do something about it… I don't like being stared at~"

Kai had to bite back a shudder, cursing himself for stuttering, "W-what are you going to do… About it…?"

With a smirk, you dragged him to his room, throwing him inside. Without even closing the door, you followed him inside, unbuttoning your shirt. It was nothing new to see you topless, that was something he needed to get used to, but when you started taking off your pants, that's when he looked away.

"Uh uh, look at me."

The demand in your tone made his eyes look at you, struggling to keep his eyes in one place. He saw you smirk, which made him flush more.

"Well, come on pretty boy, you gonna take your clothes off, or am I gonna have'ta do it for ya~?"

"I- I don't-"

The way you sauntered up to him made him trip over himself, falling onto the floor.

"Don't tell me big bad Yakuza is a virgin~"

"I-I'm not-"

You put your foot on his crotch, making him gasp out a sharp moan.

"Then take your fucking clothes off~"

Slowly and shakily, he started taking off his shirt and pants, leaving on his briefs. He… Didn't exactly like the way he looked now, his arms being mostly synthetic, making him extremely self-conscious. Your voice snapped him out of it.

"Hey, quite gettin' in your own head and get over here!"

He hadn't even seen you get on his bed, laying on your back, your legs spread. He felt his face heat up, before he made it to you.

"Quit starin'."

"Yes…" His head snapped down, and he closed his eyes when he realised it.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and you knew it.

"Now what am I gonna do with you… Usually you're so obedient, it wouldn't feel right to really punish you… But, you have been staring at me for a while, huh~?"

Kai nodded, "Fuckin' answer me when I talk to you!"

You were always loud, but not like this. It made him… "Fuck- Yes, I've been staring at you for weeks…"

You purred, moving to sit up in front of him, while he sat on his knees.

"You dirty little slut, you probably got off while watching me work, huh?"

He could feel his dick twitch when you spoke to him like that, but he answered.

"N-no, I didn't…."

"Why?"

He didn't answer you for a moment, and you raised your voice again, "Answer me, slut!"

"I haven't touched myself with these hands…! I…. I can't."

You laughed cruelly, "Ooh, poor little bitch hasn't been able to get himself off because he's scared~"

Why did he like this so much? He couldn't even think of an answer before you spoke again, "Well, here's your chance~"

He looked up at you at that, confused.

"Don't give me that look, I know you're not fuckin' stupid. I want you to touch yourself~"

This had to be a joke-

"I'll even help you, because I'm so nice~"

You moved again, getting up and moving behind him, and before he could ask what you were doing, you pushed him down. Kai caught himself on all fours, but feeling you press against him made his questions die in his throat. He felt your hands trail from his shoulders to his deltoids, before trailing down his prosthetic arms, grabbing his wrists.

"I know you know how to do this, but I'll give you a reminder~"

After you whispered that, you moved your hand and his, stopping right at the line of his briefs.

"Come on, take your dick out."

Kai did as you told him, holding his hard cock in his hand, your hand wrapped around him as well. He shuddered at the feeling, simultaneously feeling more aroused than ever, and humiliated all the same. Feeling you squeeze his hand, and in turn his dick, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Do I have to do everything for you? Christ, I literally have to hold your hand while you jack off, this is fuckin' pathetic you know~"

Feeling you pull his hand up his dick, and back down, he shuddered again. While you moved his arm, your other arm wrapped around his chest, pulling him back to sit on your lap. You kept guiding his hand at a slow pace, which was torture while you grinded on him and bit at his neck. His gasping only increased while his eyes rolled back.

"Ha, you're drooling princess- Gross~"

He shut his eyes while you sped up, your other hand playing with his nipples. His breathing got faster, and his gasps slowly turned in to quiet moans, his eyes shut tight while his mouth opened and-

When you suddenly pulled away his hand, he cried out in protest, tears pricking his eyes.

"No no no please please f-fucking please don't-"

"Who the hell are you to be making demands~?"

He couldn't even see you behind him, but he could feel you grinding against his ass, your hold on his wrist tight. He whined again, small tears falling while he caught his breath, coming down from what was almost the best orgasm of his life. He heard you laugh, before he felt you lick his tears.

"Don't be such a cry baby, sweetness… This is your punishment~"

You pushed him down again, getting him off of you, so you could get up and get dressed. You were really going to leave him like this…

"Don't worry, if you're good, I'll make sure you get a reward, but for now, deal with it."

When you turned to walk out, you stopped.

"Oh, and if I find out you touched yourself again, and you cum? You can bet your sweet ass I'll be punishing you a hell of a lot worse."

He nodded, before you snapped your fingers, making him look at you- He bit back a squeak.

"Y-yes… I won't- Won't touch myself…"

You smirked, "That's a good boy~"

Tags: @slayersins @shadowsandshapes @dabislittlemouse @shockinglysubmissive @elias-fable @starstruck-flames @mostlyheinous @daniidil

[the-lovely-planet-earth]

I hate how beating up children to the point of drawing blood is still a prevent form of punishment in india and a common experience many people including me have gone though. You're not really teaching anything by doing that. You're only breeding fear and trauma and abusing your power and just causing a cycle of generational abuse and domestic violence. The adult women, all mothers including my own, literally laugh while sharing stories about how they beat up their kids in brutal ways I can't even recount here as a way to 'teach them a lesson'. Beating up kids DOES equal to child abuse and its time to normalize saying that.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Person: God, you’re such a useless sack of shit!

Infinity, on the verge of a PTSD-fueled breakdown and in tears with his voice trembling: Thank you for coming to pickup, sir. J-James is getting his shoes on, sir.

Kill Code Moon, putting his hands on Infinity’s shoulders and looming over the human menacingly: James will be ready soon, will that be a problem, little vile creature?

[plague-of-insomnia]

I ship sebaciel but I only like their dynamic, in my head I imagine an adult Ciel and I only read fanfics when Ciel is way over 18 and can decide by himself/not be manipulated. I was raped when I was 15, I could never ship something like that. But anti pro shippers never bother to see the nuance. I'm afraid if I start publicly shipping it, people will call me a pedo lol Also I think that the ones who like the age gap still can't be compared to real pedos who consume lolicon/ realistic drawings who REALLY resemble children and explicitly are in a setting of a child being molested. I see incels doing that, and the kuro fandom is mostly women.

Hi, anon. Sorry I didn’t reply yesterday. I had COVID a couple weeks ago and now have bronchitis and i just ran out of gas to formulate a response I felt this ask merited.

First of all, I’m sorry that happened to you. I hope you’ve been able to get past it enough that it doesn’t affect your daily life too badly 🫂.

Sadly, a lot of antis act as if they’re the only ones who have been victims of (sexual) abuse, and that any survivor who doesn’t behave the way they do either must be lying or “deserved” what they got— which is absolutely awful to do to anyone.

As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re not a monolith. Some survivors find rape play (whether role play or in fictional works) helps them move past their trauma because it helps them to have the control they didn’t have as victims. But others find it triggering and upsetting and not helpful at all— and that’s valid too.

I personally don’t ship sc anymore mostly because I just don’t click with Ciel in the ship the way I do with other pairings. I also personally get very very uncomfortable with some underage depictions. For example, there was a fantastic sc fan fic a few years ago that I had to stop reading. It is one of the best written works in the fandom, but it just made me so uncomfortable (it’s underage) I had to stop.

But what did I do? Did i leave the author an angry message saying I was not gonna read it? No, ofc not. I just clicked away.

So if for you, you need situations in which you feel Ciel can fully consent/is in control to feel comfortable and happy then that’s perfectly valid! There’s no one “right” way to ship anything, and you have to look out for yourself first. Because we come to fandom to have fun and escape, so no need to delve into things you don’t like or that make you uncomfortable.

Antis are incapable of seeing these kinds of nuances, or realizing that purposefully consuming content that upsets you is self harm.

Sadly, if you openly ship sc (or even aren’t absolutely against it) you may get some hate. I know I have gotten my share, and it’s *always* about Ciel, no matter how I’ve depicted other characters or what ages they are in my stories. But I’ve also gotten hate for being a fujoshi (misgendering me at that) more than once, and some of it even before I joined the fandom… for my original work.

My point is that people are gonna attack you if they’re gonna attack you…. if you’re not willing to take that risk by being public about your ship that’s valid too. I definitely get how exhausting antis can be and if you’re just wanting to stare at your blorbos for a bit you don’t wanna be fighting of negativity left and right too.

It’s a shame that antis have started using the word pedo as a word for anyone they dislike, devaluing it, but the real shame imo is that they refuse to see that actual CSEM is bad not because it’s gross or immoral but because it harms actual children, who grow up to be adults with trauma.

I think it’s very important to distinguish actual CSEM (or “fictional works” that were intentionally modeled off real CSEM) from anything that’s purely fictional. Because you can never really know why someone made something or why someone likes something.

I write about child abuse, sexual and not, a lot because I find it very therapeutic, but someone might read my works and may draw other, completely erroneous conclusions about me and my motives.

I honestly think a huge chunk of the kuro fandom is nonbinary, but I don’t really know the demographics. I’m sure they’re slightly different depending on if you’re looking at the western or eastern fandoms…

But women can be toxic just like anyone else. Some of the absolute most vile antis I’ve seen identify as female.

Ultimately, I think that the best thing to do with the fandom (or any fandom, really) is to curate your experience. Block accounts that trigger you or don’t vibe with you. Find like-minded friends to chat with in private, so you don’t have to worry about strangers hopping on what you say. Filter tags and use apps if you need to.

I think it’s a shame that antis are so vocal in the fandom and have divided it so much. As a multishipper not much into sc, I have definitely felt that fracture more than some others, since sadly too many non-sc shippers think they need to scream about how icky that ship is and be jerks when we could just ignore sc entirely and enjoy the other ships we like instead together?

But the no matter what antis claim, sc shippers have always been and will always be the column that holds the fandom up, and you either need to make peace with it or learn to ignore it.

🫶

My ask box is open for anyone who doesn’t feel comfortable being open about their love for kuro but would like to squee over it/the new series with someone who doesn’t mind listening :)

[traumatizeddfox]

What on earth is daisys destruction /gen

TW// CP / CSA abuse mention - please read with caution

Please do not look it up for ur sanity, it's horrific CP, but to basically summarize it up. It was a video on the dark web where an 18 month old baby was sexually abused in the most horrific ways by Peter Scully and his two girl friends. I haven't seen the video obviously but I saw a video talking about it on Youtube and it's literally so disturbing what they did to this poor baby. Peter is in jail now, but what happened to Daisy was the most horrendous shit ever. To put it as bluntly as I can. Basically BDSM torture on a 18mnth old. Daisy luckily survived but i'm not sure about her physically and mental state. I'm pretty sure she will be forever scarred, and i really don't know what happened to her other than the fact that she is safe. She would be about 13 now I believe. I pray for her every day.

The video occasionally gets brought up where I see people asking for the link as if its not literal CP and a crime to view, but besides that it makes me so fucking angry for this child. There were other victims to, a lot of other kids. This man literally made cp on the dark web where he would sell it for $10k, made a pedophilia ring, and he has no remorse. he's so disgusting and deserves to be k*lled.

If you are interested in the case, you can look it up on youtube but do not if CSA, child abuse, rape, CP, torture etc is very triggering

[mywingsareonwheels]

Here be yet more Fred Thursday musings ;-)

[Long post and spoilers for all of Endeavour here.]

So, I was thinking yet again (for the billionth time ;-) ) about Fred Thursday and the three people we see him kill over the course of Endeavour while trying to save someone else:-

Mrs Coke-Norris

Ludo Talenti

Raymond Kennitt/Peter Williams

The show seems to be pointing us into believing that the third of those is somehow much, much worse than the first two and I... have a problem with this.

I mean, in all three cases Fred was responding to an immediate threat to life (of someone he cared about, and in the second and third cases also Fred himself). In the case of Mrs C-N Fred was officially on duty which gives him some extra legal cover, but I'd say no extra moral cover.

I'm no legal expert, but from what I understand, under English-and-Welsh law, none of the three were murders; you're looking at manslaughter at worst, at best a good case for self/other-defence, which... is a grey area but certainly a decent defence lawyer could have had a good go.

(It is worth noting, of course, that this is the morseverse and this is Fred Thursday; he's made so many enemies both in the criminal justice system and among criminals, mostly through doing actively good things, that his chances of either a fair trial or then surviving prison are basically non-existent. I think we have to weigh all of Morse's decisions in "Exeunt" with that in mind because there's no way Morse isn't aware of it. Sam's chances of surviving prison for drug-dealing I think we can assume would also be remote, again due to the enemies Fred has made. And I think again, we have to weigh both Fred's and Morse's decisions with that in mind.)

So... yeah. I think there are only three things that you might consider as making the killing of Raymond Kennitt worse than that of Ludo Talenti or Mrs Coke-Norris:-

the use of the knife rather than a gun, which makes it theoretically possible that Fred could have found a way to end the fight that didn't involve killing Kennitt. That does strike me as something that's probably easier to see from a backseat than if you're Fred in the middle of what's happening, but still.

we know Kennitt's horrifying backstory (not that Fred does), and so feel huge amounts of compassion for him even though he's obviously awful in the "present", and sympathy for the grief that Jakes would feel if he knew what had happened. That's inevitable I think, but, well. Can we be sure that Mrs C-N and Ludo aren't child abuse survivors too? (We do know that Fred and Charley both are, though not the details.) All in all, I think this is a show that wants us to feel compassion for as many characters as possible, and I don't want to assume that Mrs C-N and Ludo didn't end up Like That for no reason.

the fact that Fred kills Mrs C-N and Ludo in defense of Morse (the protagonist, Fred's protege, and a character we all love) and kills Kennitt in defense of Sam (a more minor character, and Fred's son). I would hope that Morse wouldn't see it like that and that neither does Russell Lewis because obviously that's a dreadful position to hold, but... yeeeah. It would annoy me a lot if that's part of the reasoning of the show, but protagonist-centered morality is a flaw in an awful lot of fiction, and while Endeavour mostly doesn't give into it, I don't think any writers are immune. So I do have a horrible suspicion that this is the bit that makes the actual difference, even though I really think it shouldn't be. If Fred had killed Kennitt to save Morse rather than Sam... would we as an audience feel differently? (I ask that of myself as well as of anyone else who wants to ask it of themselves! And honestly, I probably would feel better about the killing if it was for Morse, even though rationally I know it's no different!)

I'd actually say that in the case of the killing of Kennitt there are a couple of minor mitigating factors that the first two lack:-

Fred is in the worst state mentally we ever see him in "Exeunt", and is completely falling apart; earlier in the day he had some form of heart episode or possibly severe panic attack. At any rate: he's going through hell and he is ill as a result.

I can't actually remember if he has his gun with him during the fight with Kennitt, but he certainly isn't willing to use it given the situation; the knife is Kennitt's not his, and a weapon you aren't intending to use is for practical purposes not here, so he's... taken on an armed man while essentially unarmed. Fucking berserker that he is. Rather than two people with guns going up against each other.

you can see a moment of decision in Roger's face for the killings of both Mrs C-N and Ludo; by Fred's own account to Morse (which I think we can take as honest) he didn't make any conscious decision to kill Kennitt (see above re awful mental state).

Honesty? I think that killing in immediate self-defence and/or defence-of-other is however as close to necessary and justified as killing ever gets, and I'm inclined to be extremely forgiving about all three deaths. I'm not sure Fred had a real choice in any of the three cases.

What Fred does do in the third case that really is different of course is the cover-up, in misleading everyone, in being an absolute arsehole to Morse when he comes to check on him that night. In all of it it's massively, massively understandable (as he's a) ill, b) still trying to protect Sam). Morse's sense of betrayal though is also massively understandable. Ugh. My heart hurts. *shakes fist at Russell Lewis, and also at Roger and Shaun for being so amazing*

Anyway. Do I have an overall point? Probably: Fred Thursday is a complicated character and I love him and I want to hug him and also throw things at him. He has horrible violent tendencies but he isn't a murderer under English-and-Welsh law, and I don't think s9 makes sense unless we interpret him as very mentally unwell by the end of it. Also: Morse and Thursday both need different jobs, holy shit. Also also: I reckon Morse ended up forgiving Thursday and being in touch with him, because he is pretty fair when given time to process things, and he doesn't have Morse-centered morality. Also also also: Russell Lewis is a meanie and I want more fix-it fics. ;-)

[honeyjars-sims]

2.28 Stay With Me

Lexie: What happened?

Chantal: We were at my mom’s house and Jimmy just walked in. He tried to talk to Johnny but Destiny and I weren’t about to let that happen.

Cece: That son of a bitch!

Lexie: Oh my God. Is he ok?

Chantal: Mostly. He’s been sleeping, but he asked for you a couple of times.

[Lexie gets into Johnny's bed and gently shakes him awake]

Lexie: Johnny?

Johnny: Lexie! You’re here!

Lexie: What do you need?

Johnny: Please just hold me.

[Lexie wraps her arms around him]

Johnny: I just thought I was doing better and then I saw him, and I just…

Lexie: It’s ok to feel afraid after what you’ve been through. It doesn’t mean you haven’t made any progress.

Johnny: I guess. Standing there I felt just the same as I did when I was a kid. I felt so small and vulnerable. I wish I would’ve hit him or yelled at him or something. Anything other than running away like a coward.

Lexie: Hitting him wouldn’t have made you feel better, even if he deserves it. And you’re not a coward. He is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have targeted a little boy who couldn’t fight back.

Johnny: Well, I’m not a little boy anymore. I’m a man. Or at least I’m supposed to be.

Lexie: You’re more of a man than he’ll ever be. You have the biggest heart, Johnny. You do so much to make other people feel loved. You’re so understanding and empathetic…he’ll never know how it feels to love like you do. 

Johnny: I guess. Lexie?

Lexie: Yeah?

Johnny: Please just stay with me, ok? Don’t leave me.

Lexie: I won’t. I’ll stay right here.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[anti--transid]

T-Shirt that says "I survived a digital cult that encouraged blackface and child abuse"

[greatwyrmgold]

The first time you read Chainsaw Man, you laugh at how Denji is such a shallow, sex-obsessed weirdo that he only saves women and throws cars with guys in them at devils.

The second time you read Chainsaw Man, you realize there's more than that going on. Denji is obsessed with sex and such because he was denied any kind of intimacy and never learned about any kind except sexual intimacy.

Meanwhile, he preferentially saves women for the same reason that he implicitly trusts women (even the ones who tried to kill him or steal his literal heart) and distrusts men (even ones who tried to help him and just suck at it). He was physically abused by his father, then economically abused by the men in the yakuza, for his entire childhood; he expects men to treat him like trash, and expects women to treat him better.

The third time you read Chainsaw Man, you realize that, no, it's still pretty funny when Denji goes "What do you mean I'm aiding humans?" and throws the occupied car at a devil.

[stargazer-sims]

The Art of Redemption

(part 8)

previous // next // story index

__________

Beth-Anne is furious.

She tries never to lose her temper with her students, but she’s as fallible as everyone else. As hard as she’s worked on her patience and self-control over the years, she still has a breaking point, and sometimes the kids will push her beyond it.

Today, the perpetrator is Brett.

He’s not a bad kid. None of her students are. Sure, they have their share of personal drama, and the teenagers in particular can be mercurial. They know how to press all her metaphorical buttons, not to mention each other's, but for the most part they support one another even if they aren't all best friends all the time. She's rarely known any of them to be blatantly disrespectful to her or to each other.

But, of course, there are always exceptions.

In hindsight, maybe she shouldn't have been surprised when she'd returned to the practice rink to discover a clearly upset Nikolai escaping into the corridor and a smug-looking Brett leaning against the boards with one toe pick stuck casually into the ice, but she was. She was so startled, in fact, that she utterly failed to react for a second or two.

Nikolai had already gone past her before she remembered her voice and asked him what was wrong. He replied, though she couldn't be certain what he said. She thought it sounded like "I'm going home."

For a moment, she was torn between heading for the ice or catching up with Nikolai. It was fairly obvious something had transpired between him and Brett, and she wanted to make sure he was okay, but she also had a job to do that she'd already neglected far longer than she should have.

Brett can wait a few more minutes, she decided.

She set her skate bag on the floor and then hurried down the corridor after Nikolai. With the advantage of two healthy legs, it was easy enough for her to get ahead of him. She halted in front of him so that he was compelled to stop as well.

"I thought I asked you to tell me if you wanted to go home," she said.

"I just did."

"Right. I suppose it won't do any good to ask you what happened."

Nikolai looked up at her, and the only way she could describe the expression on his face was despair. His voice trembled. "This was a mistake. I don't belong here."

She can acknowledge now, she didn't know what to do. She wanted to comfort him, to pull him into an embrace and tell him that wasn't true and that he most certainly does belong here, but she sensed he wouldn't like her touching him just then and he probably wouldn't have believed any reassurances she might've given anyway. Feeling helpless, all she could think to say was, "How are you planning to get home? I can't take you right now."

"Bus, I guess," he said.

"No," she said. "It's too cold and icy for you to try to walk all the way to the bus stop. Do you think you can drive?"

His tone was bemused. "Anya probably has the car, so..."

"If you can manage driving, you can take my truck," she told him.

After a brief pause, he said, "Okay."

She jogged back to where she'd left her bag and dug the keys out of one of its small outer pockets. Returning to Nikolai and placing the keychain in his hand, she said firmly, "The house key is on there too. You text me when you get home, okay? As soon as you get there. Understand?"

"I will."

"We'll talk when I get home."

"Okay."

She had no idea if they'd actually discuss anything once they were both at home again or not, but she told herself this wasn't the time to dwell on it. She watched Nikolai until he disappeared around the corner.

Now, she's standing outside the entrance to the practice rink, skate bag in hand, doing her best to compose herself and to not jump to any unfounded conclusions. Although she can probably guess with some accuracy what took place before she arrived, she has to remind herself that she has almost no facts.

Steadying herself with a deep breath and a long, slow exhale, she pulls open the door and steps through it. Brett is precisely where she'd last seen him, and he's still wearing the same shit-eating grin.

One look at that arrogant little smirk and all her effort to stay calm flies out the proverbial window.

Fuck it. I'm going to find out exactly what went down, and then this kid is getting a piece of my mind.

She doesn't waste time pausing at the benches to put her skates on. She marches confidently across the slick surface of the ice until she's face-to-face with her teenage student. Skipping over the usual greetings and pleasantries, she goes straight to, "Tell me what just happened. The truth, Brett. I don't want any of your usual bullshit, got it?"

The corner of his mouth twists like he's trying not to laugh at some joke only he knows. "What do you think happened?"

"I'm not in the guessing business," she says.

"It was nothing," says Brett. "All I did was tell the truth. I guess some people are too sensitive to handle that."

She doesn't miss the emphasis he puts on 'sensitive'. He says it like it's bad. She bites back the urge to tell him he could do with a little sensitivity. He could learn a thing or two from someone like Nikolai.

Brett's condescending attitude infuriates her, and she wonders if he's aware of what he's provoking. Anger is her demon, and she has to fight like hell to keep it in check. It terrifies her, but at the same time a small part of her relishes how powerful it makes her feel. She is in charge of this situation, not him. There's a hierarchy here, and she's the person at the top of it.

She takes another stride forward until she's close enough for the toe of her right boot to touch the toe pick of Brett's left skate. He's a handful of centimetres taller than her and she has to tilt her chin a little to meet his eyes, but that doesn't deter her.

She stares into his face, and in a voice that sounds way more quiet and calm than she feels, she says, "What happened? Tell me. Now."

Brett stares back at her. She can feel her pulse in her throat.

Four or five more heartbeats tick by, and then Brett lowers his gaze. He stammers, "Can you... can you, uh... take a step back? Please?"

She complies with the request, but she doesn't take her eyes off him. "Tell me what happened."

It's evident to her that he doesn't want to confess his role, but he probably feels like he hasn't got a choice at this point. He opens his mouth to speak, and his voice cracks on the first syllable. That's as far as he gets. His eyes go wide, and he swallows so hard that she's able to see a slight ripple of the skin at his throat.

He's scared, she realizes.

Her first reaction is, Good. He should be scared.

As soon as the thought forms, she immediately regrets it. Her goal hadn't been to frighten him, only to find out what had caused Nikolai to flee from the place in such a state of distress. It'd bothered her way more than she's willing to admit, seeing Nikolai crying like that, and a genius intellect wasn't required to figure out that Brett was at least partially responsible for it, but scaring the teenager wouldn't fix it. The only thing she's accomplished is to stick herself with the problem of two upset skaters instead of one.

Well done, Beth-Anne. Way to fuck shit up more than it already was.

"I'm sorry," Brett murmurs.

Beth-Anne's anger dissipates as quickly as it'd flared up, and just as quickly, shame and guilt rush in to fill the space it had occupied. She suddenly feels weak, and she becomes alarmingly aware that she's shaking.

"No, I'm sorry," she says.

"Am I in trouble?"

"No." She holds out her hand to him. "You're not in trouble, but we do need to talk. Can we do that?"

He doesn't take her hand, but she didn't really expect him to. However, he does follow her off the ice and then sits meekly beside her on a bench. "I'm really sorry," he says again. "I was in a bad mood, and seeing him here just made me mad, and... I don't know. I'm nervous about Junior Worlds and flying and... Everything this week just feels like, so unfair."

"This week's been pretty unfair to everybody," she says. "You, Mariah and little Eden. All the group class students."

"And Nikolai?"

"Him too. And me."

"I said some mean stuff to him."

"I assumed as much.”

"He cried," Brett says. "I didn't know he was gonna cry. It made me uncomfortable, but like... it also felt kinda good? Not good, but like I was in control of a situation for a change and I didn't want to stop myself once I got going, even though I knew I should. Does that even make any sense?"

The muscles of Beth-Anne's mouth twitch in an involuntary and probably very crooked smile. "Would it shock you if I said it makes perfect sense to me?"

"It does?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Are you gonna make me apologize?" he asks.

"No, I'm not," she tells him.

This time when he makes eye contact with her, she observes incredulity rather than fear. "But... you were literally terrifying a minute ago. I've never seen anybody get that mad, like ever. I figured you were going to yell at me and tell me I had to say sorry and… basically make me feel like shit about myself.”

“Have I ever yelled at you?” she asks.

“No, but I’ve never seen you that angry before either.”

“I shouldn’t have let myself get that angry," she says. "I was reacting instead of responding, and that wasn’t right. I'm supposed to be setting an example for you, but I guess I wasn't doing my job very well, was I?"

"You were," Brett says, and the words come out so softly that she's barely able to hear them. When she glances at him again, she sees tears tracing long, wet lines down his cheeks. He scrubs fiercely at his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffles and continues, "My mom... She gets mad and throws things. Not at me, but I still don't like it. And my dad sometimes gets in my face and yells, but... but he doesn't stop even when he knows I'm scared." He lifts his gaze to meet hers and whispers. "You stopped."

Beth-Anne doesn't know Brett's parents very well, but from all the times she's interacted with them, she has the impression Brett isn't particularly high on their list of priorities. If she were to guess, she would've said they hardly bother with him at all, much less take enough notice to get angry and scream at him. It's Brett's live-in tutor, Jordan — Jordy, as Brett affectionately calls him — whom Beth-Anne most often deals with, and it seems to her that Jordy parents him more than his parents do.

Christ, what a mess. What an absolute fucking train wreck this day is turning out to be.

Sadly, she knows a thing or two about being yelled at by an angry parent, and about being terrified of them. She understands how a kid will latch onto any adult that helps them feel safe. She'd done that with her skating coach when she was a kid, and with her older brother Jason. They did all they could, and she credits Jason for saving her in the end, but not before far too much damage had been done.

Without warning, her brain throws a vivid replay in front of her mind's eye; Claudia shrieking, blind drunk, and charging at eleven year old Beth-Anne and her little sister with the neck of a broken bottle clutched in her white-knuckled hand.

"Abby, run!" Beth-Anne had screamed so hard that it'd felt like something was ripping inside her throat, but little Abby was paralyzed with terror and didn't obey the command.

In this moment, Beth-Anne can’t remember what she or Abby had done to make Claudia so enraged. She only remembers grabbing her five year old sister, practically flinging her into the corner, and then shielding her as best as she was able to do with her own scrawny body.

Until that day, she hadn't had the slightest clue how much a human face could bleed. She also hadn’t grasped her full capacity for fear until then, and she genuinely believed her own wildly beating heart and oxygen-desperate lungs would kill her before her injuries did.

She's pulled out of the traumatic scene in her mind by the light touch of Brett’s fingertips on her knee. She blinks and nearly gasps. Brett is still crying, and now he looks as close to panic as Beth-Anne feels. She becomes conscious of hot tears on her own face.

"Are you okay?" Brett inquires.

She gulps air and somehow gets out, "I'm sorry. Yeah, I'm all right. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I... I guess so."

"Do you want to talk about it? Your parents, I mean."

He shakes his head. "No," he says, and then, "Why did you stop?"

He doesn't elaborate, but she knows what he's asking her.

Because I'm not my mother, she wants to tell him. Because even though you're not mine, I love you as if you are, and I never want to hurt you. But her eventual answer is, "Because anger doesn't solve anything. All it would've done would be to hurt you and make you not want to trust me any more."

He appears to consider that.

"Sometimes," he says at length, "I think you're one of the only people I can trust. You and Jordy. And like, I'm grateful, but sometimes it's still really hard 'cause I know my life isn't like other people's. LIke Mariah and Eden and Nikolai... they have normal families with normal parents. They go to regular school and do normal stuff with their families. Well... not Nikolai I guess. He doesn't live with his parents or go to school, but you know what I mean."

"I know," Beth-Anne says.

"And like, I kinda want Nikolai's life, or Mariah's. Not exactly their life, but something like it. You know?"

"I know," she says again. When she reaches out her hand this time, he takes it, and she squeezes his fingers gently. "When you're struggling, it's easy to wish you had a different life, but you know something? It's not always going to be the way it is now. You'll grow up and you'll learn a lot of things, and people will come into your life who'll change it for the better if you let them. And you can change your own life, too. You're the only one who can live it, and you're in charge of shaping it however you want."

"It doesn't feel like I'm in charge of anything."

"Sometimes it doesn't," she concedes. "It feels like that for adults sometimes too, like everything's gone to shit and there's nothing you can do about it, and sometimes there really is nothing you can do except hang on until it gets better. In times like that, the most important thing is how you respond."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's no use to blame people for things that no one has any control over, or to act like everyone's against you, or to be too proud to ask for help when you need it. Stuff like that. People will remember you for how you behave when circumstances are at their worst."

"So... you're saying Nikolai is going to remember that I was mean to him?"

"That wasn't the point I was trying to make," she says. "But, yeah. I think he'll remember, but I'm equally sure that if you ask him to forgive you, he will. Then he'll also remember that."

"You said you weren't going to make me apologize," Brett says.

"I'm not. I think you should apologize, but you're old enough not to need me or any other adult to make that choice for you. You should do it if you think it's the right thing to do, not because I think it is."

"Okay," he says. "Should I do it today?"

"Maybe give yourself some time to think about it," she suggests. "And give Nikolai a chance to settle down a little, too. He's going through a lot right now."

"Because of his leg?"

"Yes, but it's more than that. In a way, he's grieving because he's lost one of the most important things in his life. And I won't lie to you, watching him go through it is fucking tearing my heart out, so you can imagine how much worse it feels for him."

Brett pulls his lower lip between his teeth. "Yeah. But... you're helping him, right? Taking care of him?"

"That's my job," she says. "He's my friend."

"Am I your friend too?" he asks hesitantly, and he momentarily reminds her of a small child rather than a fourteen year old. It reinforces just how vulnerable he is, and how much he needs her protection and support.

Her heart aches with regret for her earlier actions. She wishes there was a way to erase that awful slip, but then she recollects the advice she'd just given him. People remember how you behave when circumstances are at their worst. Had she acquitted herself? Had she regained control before she'd caused him any harm? She assures herself that she did, because she thinks she likely wouldn't be sitting here and talking to him candidly like this if she hadn't.

"I like to think you and I are friends," she says.

"But Nikolai is your favourite."

"Maybe, but Nikolai is an adult, and we've known each other for a really long time. My friendship with him is different than my friendship with you," she says. "Anyway, it's okay to have favourites. That's just human nature. But, even if Nikolai is my favourite, that doesn't mean I wouldn't go to the ends of the Earth for you."

"You... would?"

"We've already been all over the world together, haven't we?"

This draws a tiny smile from him. "I like travelling with you. Flying isn't so bad when you and Jordy are there."

"I'm glad we make it a little easier for you."

"Yeah, but I still wish teleportation was a thing."

Despite herself, Beth-Anne laughs, and with her laughter some of the tension in her body falls away. "That would make it more convenient, wouldn't it? When you and Nikolai are back on speaking terms, you should ask him about flying. I'll bet he wishes teleportation was a thing, too."

"He doesn't like flying either?"

"Not unless he's flying through four rotations," she says.

"Me too. Some day soon, I'm going to do all the same quad jumps he can do."

"Someday you will," she agrees. "Not today, though."

"Are we still going to skate?"

"That's up to you," she says. "We will if you're up to it. If not, I can call Jordy to come pick you up."

"No," Brett says. "He needs his daily break from me. Plus, we've already lost enough time. Nobody wins gold medals by sitting on their ass, right?"

Beth-Anne grins. "Why does that sound exactly like something I'd say?"

"Probably 'cause it is."

"Cheeky little shit," she says, and is gratified when he tries unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh with his hand. "Give me a couple minutes to put my skates on. Then we'll warm up, and then I want to see whether you've been working or slacking while I've been away."

He pokes out his tongue at her. "Working. What else would you expect? Why would I be slacking off when there's a world championship gold medal in South Korea just waiting for me to earn it?"

"Let's not get overconfident," she warns.

"I want you and Jordy to be proud of me," he says. “Maybe my parents would even be proud of me if I won a world championship gold medal."

She has her doubts about that, but it's an illusion she doesn't want to shatter for him. She says, "I can't speak for your parents or Jordy, but I'm already proud of you. You don't need a gold medal to make me proud."

"Even if I'm a pain in the ass and you lose it with me sometimes?"

"Yeah," she says. "Even so. You're not the first massive pain in my ass to also make me proud, you know. But, I've learned something in my life, and it's that if you actually take the time to listen to a troublemaker and really get to know him, he usually ends up being well worth the trouble."

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Tiny Eclipse, tugging on Moon’s pants: Love me?

Moon: No.

Tiny Eclipse, tugging Moon’s arm: Pleeeeeeeeeeeease? Uppies?

Moon: NO!

Solar: Come on, little man. Uppie. *plucks him up like a sack or potatoes and holds him*

Tiny Eclipse: *pleased noises*

[tay-likes-toons]

Parent Reveals from YFM's The Trauma Song (depicted: Puff's Father, Puff's Mother, DeeJay's Step-Father) Observations regarding each-

Puff's Dad: Absent from his son's life either because he died, ended up in jail or just straight up left the family. When he was there, he would hit Puff with a belt as punishment like his own father did to him.

Puff's Mom: Emotionally negligent, seemingly too strung out on pills or booze to actually parent her son. Seemed to be mostly in a drugged up state, probably didn't do much or step in at all when Puff's dad would hit him. Let her in-laws raise her son.

DeeJay's Step-Father: Seems to have been an alcoholic, would physically harm DeeJay or destroy his possessions if he caught his step son doing anything even remotely feminine. Definitely a major contributing factor as why DeeJay once held transphobic views.

[beep-beep-sunny]

New fic just dropped!! I'm really proud of this one. If you read it, please tell me what you think!! I have a three part series planned, but it helps to think people might actually want a continuation.

(just an excerpt, the rest is only on AO3)

The Process of Forgetting

The Promise

"S-Swear it!" Stuttered a boy in a dingy flannel shirt. The other six children sitting around him looked and listened as if anything he said could be the most important thing any of them would ever hear. He held a shining shard of broken glass over his head as he stood. "Sw-swear that i-if it ever comes back, we'll come back too."

One by one, each child stood up with him. They watched, as he slowly and deeply cut across his palm with the glass, whimpering, but never stopping.

One by one he approaches the children and cuts their hands. First, a boy with wild black hair and coke bottle glasses. He cried out and shook his hand, trying to will away the pain, but snapped to attention when the next boy's hand was taken. The boy next to him was the smallest of any of the other kids in the group, and he had a broken arm. He couldn't look as his hand was slashed, but the bespectacled boy stroked his arm to comfort him, trying to ignore the pain in his own hand.

Each of the other children let him deeply open their hands without a single objection. The power that the boy held was palpable. He could suck all of the air out of the space while all of the attention snapped to him and his mission statement.

The ring of children stood, hands interlocked, as though they were a circuit or a delicately woven ring of flowers. They were covered head to toe in dirt, blood dripping all over them from the cuts on their hands, their eyes shining with adrenaline and determination. They had seen something no child should ever have to see. They did things no child should be expected to do. Their grips tightened, all together like one single breathing organism.

It went without saying. They swore. They made a blood oath to each other. To that stuttering boy they all adored. To themselves. They would be back. If It ever returned they'd be ready.

Bev: The First Gone

Beverly Marsh had experienced so much in her life. More than any young girl should ever have to. She palled around with a group of six boys that she adored, but that could never understand what she was going through, not really. There was one trauma they all shared and she was grateful she could talk to them about that, but she was hiding something from them.

The boys had their suspicions. They all loved Beverly and wanted her to be happy and healthy, and she was good at pretending, for a while. She couldn't keep up the "cool girl that doesn't need help from anyone" act for forever though. She was drowning. Every forced laugh was a fight to keep her head above water. She was beginning to sink. Better to sink than to float, she'd tell herself with a bitter laugh.

They'd noticed things, at first they were simple questions, simple observations.

One day Ben said to her, "Geez, how'd you get that bruise? It looks like it really hurts." She brushed it off as a fall from her bike.

Eddie would lecture her on proper bike safety with his silly little Sesame Street full safety pad set. He didn't even wear them once his mom stopped watching. The second Richie teased them he'd be tripping over himself to get them off. He insisted on bandaging her cuts and bruises. Once he gave them a strange look and then his eyes locked with Bev's. She held her breath because she thought this is it. But no, Eddie just patched her up without another word. It was funny because she thought if anyone would understand, it would be Eddie. His evil mom made his life hell. Though, sometimes Eddie would defend her. Say she wasn't that bad. She does these things because she loves him. I do these things because I love you Bevvy.

Richie would make tasteless jokes because of course, he was Richie. "Why does your dad care so much about what the fuck you do? Is he in love with you or something? Eddie's mom is in love with me, you know? Did'ya know that?" Then he'd snort-laugh and make kissy noises at Eddie, who sat next to him in the hammock of their secret clubhouse. All of them moved in slow motion while Bev's blood ran cold and her stomach turned. She knew that wasn't what Richie meant, yet she still felt in that moment like they could see through her skin down to her deepest darkest secrets.

She knew that if she was bent any further she'd break. Eventually there would be a joke she couldn't laugh off or a bruise she couldn't lie her way out of and the older she got, the angrier she got. Angry at herself for protecting her father, angry at her father for looking at her like no father should ever look at their daughter, for robbing her of a childhood. What the clown left for her, her father gleefully stole away. Mad at her friends for not figuring it out even when she thought it was obvious. Sometimes she'd wonder if they did know, but just thought it wasn't that big of a deal. That she was being dramatic. Mad at herself again for ever thinking something like that about her best friends, the closest thing she had to a real family.

One day, enough truly was enough. Beverly was 15-years-old and she decided she couldn't live another day as "daddy's little girl". She was going to fight and claw and bite even if it killed her, and she knew it might. She knew that her father didn't have any problem hurting her when he didn't get his way. If she had anything to say about it, her father would never have his way again.

When she was admitted to the hospital, her horrible secret was out. Her father was taken away, her aunt was called to take her in, and her boys? Well, her boys looked at her with an emotion they'd never looked at her with before, and it was one she hated on each of their faces. Pity. Like they didn't know how to act around her anymore, like she was some broken toy, and it was the worst feeling she'd ever experienced, seeing them look at her like that. And Beverly Marsh had a lifetime of shitty experiences to pull from.

Nothing was ever the same again. Beverly had a few weeks left in Derry, her aunt was staying with her long enough for them to get everything together for the move, and she knew she'd miss every last one of those boys fiercely. The grief of losing them felt like it would be enough to stop her heart, but she didn't get the goodbye she would have wanted. She wanted normalcy, but those last weeks were anything but.

Richie, her fellow goof-off smoke buddy couldn't even look her in the eye. All of them seemed afraid to touch her. Like she was made of glass. Like they were afraid now that it would somehow remind her of all the ways she never wanted to be touched, but it wasn't like that. Bev was comforted by the touch of her friends. This was a time when she needed that comfort the most.

Ben talked to her the most normally out of anyone. Though, he couldn't shake the sadness in his voice. "I'm - We're all gonna miss you like crazy." He said to her one night in the clubhouse.

A smile crept onto her face, "Oh come on, you know I'm gonna write. And call of course for the illiterate." She gets in close to whisper. "Richie."

"Really, Bev. If Richie's illiterate, what are we? He has better grades than any of us." Ben was obviously a little annoyed by this fact.

"Pretty impressive, seeing as how he's illiterate." She retorted with a wicked grin.

They both laugh together, their heads close, and it's the most normal she's felt since the day it all fell apart. The good warm feeling was stolen away when Ben seemed to notice how close they were and awkwardly moved away.

"Sorry." He said.

She released a long sigh. "It's fine. Really. I'm still the same Beverly that I always was."

Ben smiled a sad smile that told Bev all she needed to know. "Promise you'll write me?"

"Of course! I know how much you like all that old fashioned cheesy shit. You'll probably write me with a quill pen and send it via carrier pigeon."

His smile at that was genuine, if a bit shy. "Maybe I will."

"I hope you do!" She changed it, throwing herself forward and pulling him into a hug. "I'm gonna miss you too."

On the day that she moved, all of her boys came to see her off. There wasn't a dry eye between them, even Stan, who she'd never seen cry before. It might not have looked like he was crying to the untrained eye, but she could tell. They all hugged in a giant group hug that mimicked their positions in the blood soaked promise. This was a promise of sorts too. A promise that, even though they'll be apart, they're still the Losers Club.

"The Losers Club will rise again!" She shouted into the air. Sealing the promise to the universe. The boys erupted into a sea of cheers. "No one can keep me away from you boys for long. You're my family." Ben went awkward and red at that comment, and she planted a kiss on his cheek. The rest of them were a chorus of ooooos and she shook her head fondly.

She waved at them all with big exaggerated movements, her head hanging out the window.

"You better fucking call, Marsh, or I'll single handedly find you and kick your ass!" Richie shouted, then Eddie punched him in the arm. The two boys were standing a little closer than anyone else, as usual.

Bev beamed. "You couldn't keep me away if you tried, Tozier!" She kept her head out the window, hair blowing in the wind, until her boys were specs on the horizon.

Bev: The Forgetting

It started with small things. One day, her aunt would ask her to tell her stories about where she grew up, her friends, her school, and she would answer eagerly. Any chance to relive her best memories with her best boys, but very quickly things changed. Too quickly even, like a fog rolled in overnight. It wasn't long at all. The first week back, drafting a handful of letters, she started to forget their names. Just faces playing over and over again in her mind. She'd read the letters she started writing, and had no idea what she was talking about. It was like she was writing a story. She had no connection to the memories the letters described, and the letters had no addresses. Not even names, just titles, like Trashmouth and New Kid. It was weird. She'd never been much of a writer. At least, she thought she'd never been much of a writer.

She started at her new highschool and found that she blossomed. They would ask even simple questions like "Where did you grow up?" Or "Tell me about your family." She never had good answers. If people asked about her family she mentioned her aunt.

Her aunt was worried about her. Beverly would ask her things like, "What was the name of the town I grew up in?" or "What happened to my dad?" and she would just scrunch up her face and look at her with those pitying eyes that Bev hated. She couldn't stand to be pitied.

Her aunt put her in therapy a month after she moved in with her, and her therapist told her that she suffered from severe repressed memories and night terrors because of the awful trauma she experienced. The trauma she had no memory of and no one would really talk to her about. She supposed that filled in the blanks. The empty parts of Bev. Spacey Beverly Marsh. She repressed her past because of some fucking traumatic memories she couldn't even remember, so she could just deal with them.

Eventually she stopped worrying about the lost memories. She was making plenty of great new memories with her aunt and her amazing friends, but Bev couldn't help but feel like she was missing a big chunk of her heart. A space she just couldn't seem to fill no matter what she tried putting there. She still woke up screaming every once in a while. Not nearly as frequently as when she first arrived. Her therapist told her she was healing.

She was told that someday she may even get back her lost memories, but she couldn't help but sit up in her bed when she woke up from her terrifyingly real nightmares and think, are any of these things in my dreams actually memories? Her therapist told her that the clown monster that haunted her nightmares was probably some kind of metaphor for something, but the blurry faces of smiling little boys stuck with her. She always felt like she wanted to be smiling with them too.

Beverly was known to take on life like a bull by the horns. Fiery and passionate. This passion was noticed by a man named Tom Rogan. He was drawn to it like he was a moth and her red hair was a flame that he danced around. They both had an interest in design. Beverly had a talent and drive that was otherworldly. He had to have her. So he took her. All of her.

They started a clothing line together and were married.

Beverly felt strangely at home with him. Especially when he was cruel. She didn't like it. She hated it when he got like that, but it was familiar. She always told herself that it wasn't so bad. That he loved her, he just got mad sometimes. Something about him connected her to her past and she couldn't seem to let that go.

Her best friend, Kay, didn't agree. She saw Tom like a boiling pot. No matter how much it was watched, if it was left to boil, it would overflow. She was terrified of what might happen.

[shoujoboy-restart]

So... apparently that infamous meme criticising shows made by mixed latino north americans(???) not only whitewashed the Chad Real Mexican™ creator they were trying to praise(????), who is a mixed latino, but it was done porpusefully because they were a infamous hispanic community lolcow neo-nazi who's friends with a dude with CP????????

And the extra funny part is that while the neo-nazi whitewashed and lowkey body shamed Jorge R. Gutierrez, creator of El Tigre and Book of Life and character designer in Mucha Lucha, series in which all of the main characters are very obviously mixed race/brown skinned, in some bizarre attempt of a made up strawnman...

in one of his new series on netflix titled Maya and the Three, which you should check out because is actually great and super well made like everything else this dude directs, ironically enough

THE MAIN VILLAINS EVIL ARMY IS LITERALLY, AS IN, ACTUALLY LITERALLY A BUNCH OF DEAD CONQUISTADORES, THE EUROPEAN COLONIZERS.

The entirety of this dudes work and art is constantly criticising gringos, european colonization of the Latin America and celebrating brown folks in Latin America why the fuck is this neo-nazi using him as inspiration or to put down artists?!?