#and other complex forms of abuse and manipulation

[tawked]

A point I want to add: asylums and institutions also still exist in the space future, and are weaponized against a medically constructed political underclass on a basis of the presumption of violence.

This is how schizophrenia and many other personality disorders work, based on concepts pioneered primarily by Nazi eugenicists from the mid-1900s (as in the decade) to the 1940s. Particularly men like Hoche, Binding, Bleuler (who coined "schizophrenia) and Kraepelin.

Many concepts of schizophrenia specifically, such as the eventual understanding of delusions, were influenced by antisemitic purges of academia, such as the displacement of Karl Jaspers, who advanced the thought that it is the character of the delusional and not the content of the delusion that should be considered in diagnosis, a problem many people continue to have when engaging with exterminationist eugenics discourse to this day lol.

Through Julian Bashir's narrative and especially the institutionalised, engineered people we meet in S06E19 "Statistical Probabilities," explores concepts of institutionalisation and systemic, structural ableism in similar terms and concepts, without the need to reference this history because this was the backbone of the same systems and medical concepts that continued up to the mid-1980s, and continue in some forms to this day. It is a cornerstone of the conservative push to "get the homeless off the streets" by reopening psychiatric hospitals, effectively advocating for Arkham Asylums, a failed system, instead of building a systemic support framework that can support us in the outside world.

It's worth noting that although Jack is characterized as potentially dangerous (and pulls a lot of the focus when discussing this in-episode), he is housed with

Lauren, who is an ableist stereotype of a nymphomaniac manipulator, a character used in old school asylum fiction all the time. It's an outdated concept of hypersexuality, which is its own deeply complex subject. The point is, she's kind of an asylum novel cliche, and not much is done to subvert this.

Patrick, who is "brilliant but child-like," and not dangerous,

Sarina, who Julian ends up fucking dating brooo what is it with well-meaning liberals and writing themselves fixing a "broken woman" who immediately falls in love with them out of a combination of sexual repression and gratitude? like what is this fantasy??? is it not creepy as fuck? no one, i mean no one who is normal and aware of the sexual abuse of women in psychiatry would write this, oh my god i hate what the writers do to Sarina so much, it actively ruins bashir's character if i think about it for more than ten minutes it makes me so mad, it makes me so mad. fuck you charles xavier

So their being confined to psychiatric prison, which is basically their reality, is less a response to their specific symptomatic presentation and environmental needs, and more a flat standard applied to all genetically engineered people (a manufactured disabled class, according to social models of disability), based on culturally entrenched systemic ableism, with its roots directly in the Eugenics War.

It's an extremely complex discourse lol, but an unfortunate reality we live in is that a lot of liberals and leftists, such as the creatives behind Deep Space Nine, do not learn disabled history or politics. There's a whole incredibly vast and rich world that one seems only able to access when actually listening to disabled people, but unfortunately many of our cultural norms in progressive spaces provide a window into being "for us," or "about us," without us. One can advocate enough to pass a liberal sniff test, without ever really engaging with the vast complexity and history of these subjects.

So one of the things I like about Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, which I think is somewhat underappreciated in the audience because it clashes hard with the utopic vision of the future, is that the Federation is in many ways still systemically and culturally ableist.

I think this is explored best in S02E06's "Melora," obviously.

This episode starts off with Dax being shocked that the replicator contained a schematic for a wheelchair, because no one has needed one in three hundred years. Bashir answers that no no no lol, Federation replicators in fact cannot make wheelchairs based on their built-in libraries, and that the wheelchair is a schematic that their incoming wheelchair user coworker sent over to have replicated for her on arrival.

The rest of the episode explores how this utopic vision of the future that the difficult-to-accommodate disabled are not a part of has absolutely de-normalized the cultural concepts and accommodations surrounding some disabilities, thus creating complex and seemingly anachronistic institutionalist-era realities in the space future.

This is, to me, deeply interesting because it highlights a very real conversation around pursuing cures against pursuing accommodation.

It's basically acknowledging the threat of the Gattica style shit currently engaged in by dudes like Elon Musk and these freaks

(for those who don't recognize them, these are weird pro-natalist yuppies who claim they've done shit like genetically engineer their kids for high IQs, a scentifically impossible thing. they are, unsurprisingly, very racist but in a SoCal-Berkeley way.)

becoming so normalized in society that we effectively engineer out the majority of "defects." Everybody starts off with a happy healthy life as defined not through accommodation and infinite diversity in infinite combinations, but through the elimination of variation that would necessitate different cultural practices, different architecture, different understandings of life worthy of life, blah blah blah.

It's not "in the brilliant shining future nobody has to be disabled," it's "in the brilliant shining future the disabled aren't allowed to exist, and we don't have to think about them" lol.

But! Geordi LaForge!

Well, Geordi is born blind in a context where blindness can be perfectly accommodated, debatably even cured, via his wundervisor and / or surgically implanted eyes. In fact, in the movies, which do not exist sorry, Geordi gets them eyes stuck in and in so doing even loses the cultural signifier of his blindness, as well as situational considerations of blindness.

Further, Geordi is in this unfortunate weird space a lot of disabled characters in science fiction are, where his prosthesis is considered cool enough that it passes some kind of ableist vibe check wherein the character is no longer necessarily received as "disabled" by the audience. It's a cool cyberpunk thing, and thus loses its audience association with disability in many ways, ala Adam Jensen's sword arms or the unexplored nature of voluntarily cutting off one's limbs to replace them with robot parts in Cyberpunk 2077.

Geordi "can do things," he just "has to do things a little differently." The "a little differently" here is defined as "wearing a thing on his face" and not a different process or method. We never see how Geordi lays out his quarters or prepares his uniform, tools, whatever in a way that makes it all more accessible for him; he readily assume the first thing he does in the morning is plug his visor in. Glasses.

It's a fun cosplay idea in a way a wheelchair isn't.

The thing is, when Geordi is without his visor, he's fucked.

I don't just mean the episode where he's trapped in a island with a Cardassian or whatever, I mean on the fucking Enterprise. Say they're in a crisis, he falls over, wangs his noggin on a console and breaks his visor. Look at the open layouts with no handrails leading anywhere, no braille or layout signage posted, nothin'.

How the fuck is he going to find his way to the turbolift?

These are not accessible environments for a blind bloke. These are accessible environments for a sighted bloke wearing glasses.

The thing to consider as well is, we know Geordi's blindness is absolute. Blindness in real life is pretty diverse, actually, and many blind people do have some vision. Not Geordi. So, all the lights that communicate where to go in a crisis mean fuck all to him.

And, considering how often the Enterprise is in crisis, crew members are cut off from each other or the ship, the practical realities Geordi has to deal with on away missions that are simply never accommodated - it becomes apparent that Geordi is considered effectively the same as any sighted crew member.

His disability accommodation is individual and his responsibility. Nothing is provided by Starfleet except, perhaps, new visors and free visits to Beverly.

The same criticism exists for my man Hemmer,

who is played by blind actor Bruce Horak, yes, but who exists in a similar state to Geordi. I doubt they considered Mr. Horak a consultant on blindness and how a blind crew member would work in their series, because again, his blindness is accommodated for by magical future thing that doesn't fucking exist. In this case, psychic senses or something (idk I've never watched nuTrek sober).

If you look at the environments he's in, or the situations he deals with on away missions, sans those Daredevilian supersenses he'd be shit out of luck.

They're so adverse to giving blind characters so much as a cane.

I'm not saying the inclusion of blind characters is bad or that we should not engage in these fantasies of disabled characters being able to live and work equally to able-bodied characters without the need for accommodation, necessarily. I'm certainly not saying every blind character should have a sighted support following them around or a dog or whatever. My criticism is not of the blind characters' individual accommodations not being up to my arbitrary standard as a sighted viewer lol.

What I am instead attempting to hightlight here is that the shows seem adverse to engaging in disabled / accommodative environmental design or in the more complex, social realities of disability, and that's something that the episode "Melora," the wheelchair user episode this post is about lol, addresses in depth.

Julian is a future space doctor who doesn't know how to comfortably talk to someone in a chair. That only happens in a universe where doctors don't encounter wheelchairs in their professional lives. That's a reality brought about specifically by the comfortable eugenicist realities of the future, where although due to a war the Federation draws the line at "enhanced" individuals, it obviously voluntarily engages in liberal eugenics to the effect of eliminating disabled life in many meaningful forms. Its society, where doctors seem to need an aide like this to do their jobs properly:

And idk! I think that's neat. I think that's a powerful flaw in the utopic vision of the future that Roddenberry and the others probably didn't intend originally, and that DS9, commendably, attempts to explore.

Especially because Julian was a lil autistic boy who was forcibly cured through similar treatment, and correctly identifies that this means the him who existed before was drastically altered for his parents' fear of actually accommodating him.

anyway this post was brought out of me by some dickhead saying Melora "breaks the setting" for them lol. bro they fought a eugenics war, they definitely didn't come out of that culturally unchanged. you're just scared of wheelchairs. fuck u

[shadelorde]

paraphrased from a conversation I had on Bluesky but actually the more I think about it the more utterly insane it is that the major thing Korra is hated for is losing the past avatars. You want to know HOW she lost the past avatars? by trusting an older member of her own family who then proceeded to GRAPHICALLY violate her and destroy an actual part of her in front of her with utter glee - but Unalaq isn't denounced as even a creep and no thought is given to any of the themes behind such a scene, it's just "how could korra let this happen??!?!?!"

life imitates art i guess.

[duffmckagans]

very excited for people to see how all of these characters have changed in subtle ways due to either maturity in nuance or dissatisfaction with the original portrayals, but i think i'm most excited for people to read about valerie this time. which, possibly may be because this book is centered around her, but i just feel like she's gained some good depth. all of her traits are still there, for better or worse, but there's definitely an added realism that i'm really proud of ♡ and i hope is better understood this time around.

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Cults and Cult Leaders

Cults are a terrifying concept. The idea of a group of people under the control of a singular figure or belief that is isolated from what one knows or understands is unsettling. Cults are interesting because at their heart, they are complex dynamics which highlight some of the most unsavoury parts of human nature and the damage imposed from the imposition of certain lifestyles and beliefs upon a group of, sometimes, vulnerable people.

If it Quacks like a Cult, it probably is a Cult

A cult is a group of people who share a certain belief in how they must live their lives. Cults are usually closed communities, very often separating themselves from the mainstream society in order to protect their way of life and live in the bubble of their beliefs. Cults control, usually everything from what you might eat to who you can speak to. It ingrains in every aspect of your life, it takes over the way you live, the way you think and it draws you in like a mouth to the flame.

How a Cult Operates

A Cult doesn't have to use violence in order to control their members.

Isolation is the biggest weapon a cult has to impose their values and take control. If you prevent any outside intervention or prevention, you can impose control better. Cults typically either physically isolate their members from society, friends and family or emotionally isolate them, by telling them what they want to hear and speaking ill of the outside world. The thought of 'us vs them' is a feature that always has centre stage in a cult.

Indoctrination is used to impress certain ideas upon somebody else through repetition. Any outside thought or contradiction is explained away or discouraged. Only the ideas that the group has are right, anything else is either wrong or close to sinful. It isn't exactly that people in a cult are gullible, its that cult leaders understand their weaknesses and prey on them. They focus on things that the group mistrusts and offers protection from it.

Peer Pressure is also used. The group as a whole, armed with the beliefs of the leader, are often a weapon deployed against other members. Think about it, if you were alone in a group of people and they began to isolate you or make your life unpleasant and you had no escape, you would probably conform by the end. Human nature seeks approval, especially in a group setting.

Control over almost every aspect of life is also used. Cults usually follow strict rules. Members will have to live their lives along certain rules, how they act, what they say, who they speak to, what they believe, what they do at certain times etc. The The Peoples Temple implemented sleep deprivation on its members. The Heaven's Gate Cult had a strict vegan diet. The Aum Shinrikyo Cult bathed in the blood of their leader.

Punishment would be used to correct members who step out of line or stray from the teachings. This can be anything to social stigma and isolation to physical abuse. Sometimes even the fear of punishment is enough to keep the members in line.

Cult Leaders

Cult leaders are charismatic. They draw people in due to their knowledge and instinct of what people want and they know how to make them believe that they are the one person to deliver it. Leaders will prey on the fears of their followers, making themselves seem understanding of the member's fears and plight. They will form control around the group by presenting themselves as the answer or the salvation or the path in which the members can find it. They will manipulate relationships between members, playing them off against one another or fostering close relationships to foster competition between members. They will exploit the group for whatever they can be it money or other favours; it is not uncommon for the leaders of cults to form intimate relationships with members.

Why People Join Cults

Cults offer answers. They might be whacky answers like UFOs but it is an answer. People crave something to believe in, they want something to live for. It's a mixture of desperation, desire to be apart of something larger and a need for approval and social connection. People need something bigger than themselves and they will look for that, even in the worst of places.

Escaping a Cult and Life Beyond

People can and have escaped cults. Finding the strength to question what the cult teaches you and then the strength to abandon the life you have built in the community, takes a lot out a person. First, the person will begin to become disillusioned by the ideals and dynamics in the community, this can be due to their treatment or the fact that the cult has yet to deliver the promise they made at the beginning. They may even become liberated by an outside influence and realise the situation they are in. Leaving a cult may be dangerous so it is up to your character to plan an escape. Some cult survivors used help from outside to free themselves but an escape first comes from gradual separation from aspects of the cult. But even when somebody escapes a cult physically, the emotional and mental toll can still leave scars. They may still live in fear of the leader and the community exacting retribution, they may still internalise some of the teachings of the cult, they may have a hard time adjusting to mainstream society. They will have a long road in unlearning the harmful practises and thoughts of the cult. They will need a good support system to rebuild their lives and rebuild their relationships with friends and family.

[prythiansprincess]

DELIRIUM | a stalker! theo au.

"you're so fucking special; I wish I was special."

word count: 5,662.

warnings: please read all trigger warnings before proceeding. dead dove do not eat, noncon, murder, coercion, stalking, assault, manipulation, gaslighting, knife play, blood play, abusive behavior.

author's note: I don't say it lightly when I say that this fic is very dark. I fully understand that the topics and themes discussed are not for everyone, so please be mindful of the warnings before engaging. special thanks to @writingsbychlo for proofreading and encouraging my over all psychophathy.

♫ creep - radiohead. nav. stalker! theo.

There was something wrong with Theo Nott. 

Perhaps it was a result of his traumatic upbringing or perhaps it was simply encrypted into his genetic code, but whether nature or nurture was to be blamed, this simple truth was certain: a sick, twisted, and insatiable monster lurked within him and its hunger could be satiated by one thing and one thing only — you. 

In the deepest and darkest depths of his inky black heart, Theo knew that he was completely and utterly fucked up. This thing inside of him — this madness — rendered him incapable of forming healthy relationships. Time and time again, his passions and proclivities hinted towards a more sinister nature. Some called him deranged, delirious, delusional, but Theo simply thought of himself as a hopeless romantic. 

Theo was not the type of man to harbor a crush or entertain a fling or succumb to a fleeting infatuation that eventually faded over time. When he loved, he loved with his entire being. He loved until it became a fixation, a compulsion, an obsession. This has and always will be his fatal flaw. 

From a young age, Theo learned that he was not normal. When he presented Pansy Parkinson with the front teeth of the boy who dared knock her off the swings, that was not normal. When he gifted Daphne Greengrass the rotting carcass of a bird that had kept her up with the incessant tapping of its beak against her bedroom window, that was not normal. When he offered to carve the initials of Mattheo Riddle into his skin to prove his loyalty, that was not normal. 

Theo was bereft when his friends cried and fled from him, feeling distraught and disappointed by their reactions. After all, he had only done those things to make them happy. Why couldn’t they see that?

When his mother found him crying in the Nott Manor gardens, she explained to him that he was a very special boy. That his capacity for love would be misunderstood by those around him because they simply could not feel the way that he did. The intensity of his emotions surpassed their understanding; they didn’t know what it was like to be irrevocably consumed by love. His devotion could be misconstrued, his affection scorned, which is why it became imperative for Theo to shield himself from the world until the right person came along. 

So, he conformed, he adapted, he survived, but Theo knew it was only a matter of time before his carefully constructed mask slipped. 

In the back of a crowded restaurant, Theo swirled the glass of wine in his hand before taking a long sip. The waiter had recommended the red vintage, droning on and on about the quality of the 1978 Barolo Montorfino and the meticulous aging process of the Nebbiolo grapes to produce this particular bottle. Theo fought the urge to roll his eyes. He already knew all of this, given that the wine was produced by his family’s vineyard in the Italian countryside. 

The complex flavor danced on his tongue. On any other occasion, he might have savored the hints of cherry, roses, and truffle peeking through its rich-bodied profile, but Theo tasted nothing but ash in his mouth. Because across the rooftop sat the woman of his dreams, drinking and laughing and dining with another man. Theo gripped the stem of his glass until his knuckles turned white. 

Needless to say, the night was not going as Theo intended it to. It was supposed to be him feeding you little bites of tagliatelle, topping your wine off with a wink, and listening to your melodious voice recount silly anecdotes about yourself. Instead, Adrian fucking Pucey was blattering on like a bloody twat, failing to appreciate the goddess seated across from him. The stupid prick was probably too busy gauging whether or not he was going to get lucky tonight. As if Theo would ever let that happen. 

No, that simply wouldn’t do. 

Sure, he had enjoyed the game of cat and mouse between you over the past few months. Since the day you moved into the house next to his, there had been this constant push and pull between you. The flirtatious banter as he helped you carry your dresser into the foyer after he found you struggling in the yard, the freshly baked goods you presented to him as thanks after the fact, the shy way you smiled at him every time you crossed paths when you departed and arrived back home. 

Something awakened within him the second he laid eyes on you. Something dark, something dangerous, something that he thought was long buried in the depths of his depraved soul. 

It wasn’t all in his head. Hell, you had invited him in on that very first day. You wanted him there. You wanted him near you. You wanted him.

All the darkness that he tried so hard to push down seemed to resurface all at once. Suddenly, Theo found himself falling back into old old habits. Watching you through your bedroom window while you undressed, sneaking into your house while you were away at work, planting cameras in every room without your knowledge, and even going so far as stealing your lingerie. 

But Theo wasn’t stalking you. 

No.

He was merely keeping an eye on you. 

Clearly, you needed someone to look after you if you were putting your trust in a man like Adrian Pucey. You were too soft and sweet and innocent for this world. Theo wanted to protect you. In his eyes, Pucey was a threat to your relationship and there was only one way to deal with a threat — eliminate it. 

The opportunity presented itself after that sordid dinner. After dessert was served, Theo quietly slipped out ahead of the happy couple. Well, the two of you wouldn’t be happy for long. Not if he had anything to do with it. 

Surrounded by silence and darkness, Theo laid in wait until he heard the tell-tale sounds of the front door unlocking. He observed in quiet rage as Adrian kissed his girl. The door snicked shut, but the two of you barely noticed as you stumbled through the foyer, his lips sucking at your neck, his hands roaming underneath your dress, his cock pressing against your core as you mewled for him. Theo couldn’t stomach a second more of this. The sound of Pucey’s name falling from your lips was enough to awaken the monster within him. 

A sickening thud echoed through the house as Pucey dropped to the floor. With wide eyes, you scrambled in the darkness, blinking in disbelief at the sight before you. The silk strap of your dress fell from your shoulders at the abruptness of the attack. Your pupils, which were previously blown from desire, now shifted into fear. 

“T — Theo?” Disbelief colored your expression as you looked up at your neighbor. Dressed in all black, his tall and lithe form blended in with his surroundings. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t really think I’d let this prick weasel his way into your bed, did you?” 

You blinked in confusion. On the floor of your living room, Adrian nursed his broken nose, trying and failing to staunch the blood flowing through his fingers. 

“Do you know this asshole, Y/N?” 

“He’s my neighbor,” you answered. Theo’s face twisted in anger at your response. You cowered under his gaze and scooted backwards against the wall. “Theo, what’s going on? Why are you doing this?” 

Theo sneered. “Isn’t it obvious, bella?” Your blood ran cold when a flash of silver appeared in his hand. “I know why you went on this date tonight. You wanted me to fight for you, so here I am. I love you and I won’t let anyone keep us apart.”

“What are you talking about, Theo?” You cried as he stalked towards you. “I barely know you. We’re neighbors, just neighbors, that’s all.” You pleaded, begging for him to listen to reason. “Please, just stop this. You don’t have to do any of this.” 

“Shh, my sweet Y/N,” Theo cooed as he wiped a stray tear away with his thumb. His blue eyes bore into you with such intensity that it made you shiver. There was something lurking behind that dead eyed stare and you feared for whatever it might unleash. 

Theo caressed your cheek with reverence while you trembled in fear. “You just don’t know any better, cara mia. But don’t worry, I’ll show you how much I love you. I’ll protect you; I’ll keep you safe.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m going to take care of this. He will never come between us again.” 

Before you could protest, Theo had already rounded on Adrian. The brunette threw his hands up as Theo pulled him up by his collar. “I almost feel sorry for you, you know,” Theo taunted. “You probably thought you were so smart, preying on someone as sweet and innocent as Y/N. You never deserved her.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Adrian retorted, crimson staining his dress shirt as he struggled against his captor’s hold. “It was just a few harmless dates.” 

“A few harmless dates?” Theo repeated in a mocking tone. “Christ, you can’t truly be that stupid, can you? You don’t even understand how lucky you are to have gotten the chance to be in her company. She’s a fucking goddess and you — “ Adrian groaned when Theo yanked his hair back to give him a proper view of you. “Well, you’re nothing.” 

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I was just lookin for an easy fuck — “

Fury simmered in Theo’s gaze. The careless words that Adrian spoke cut you deep, but not nearly as deep as the blade that sliced his throat open. The crimson river flowing from Adrian’s neck bathed Theo in blood, covering his face, his hair, and his clothes. 

You screamed as Adrian slumped to the floor, his lifeless body discarded onto your cream rug as his vacant gaze stared at nothing. The gravity of his death sent a surge of adrenaline in your veins. You needed to get the fuck away, The instinct to survive kicked in and you darted for the door, but unfortunately, Theo was quicker. 

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, hauling you away from your only form of escape. You struggled in his hold, clawing and kicking and screaming as Theo dragged you through the living room. 

“You killed him!” You screamed while you continued thrashing. “He’s dead, you killed him, oh my god — “

“Don’t be like that, cara mia,” Theo said in a soothing voice. “I thought you would be happy. With our little problem out of the way, we can finally be together.” 

“You’re a fucking psychopath!” 

With a swift kick to the balls, Theo stumbled backwards which gave you time to frantically reach for your purse. The slick blood that coated the wooden floors now sullied your dress, but you pushed the thought away as you recovered your phone. As you tapped on the screen, it came alive with a bright light. With shaking hands, you tried to swipe up to dial emergency services, but the screen buzzed with static before completely dying out. 

“No!” You screamed in frustration as you pressed the dead screen over and over again. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” 

Behind you, Theo sighed and shook his head in disappointment. Crouching down before you, the warmth of his palm felt like a slap to the face as he cradled your jaw.

“You’ve been a bad girl, bella,” Theo purred. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’ve left me no choice.” 

Your eyes widened as he produced a set of handcuffs from his pocket. “No, please, you don’t have to do this. Just let me go and I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” 

“Let you go?” Theo repeated in a cold, menacing voice as he clamped the handcuffs over your wrists. “After all that I’ve done for you, do you really think I would be capable of just letting you go?” He tutted in disapproval as he tugged you towards the stairs. “You’re all mine now, you’re not going anywhere.” 

The short walk to your bedroom felt like a march towards death. You began to shake violently as Theo guided you towards the bed, instructing you to lie down as he tinkered with the handcuffs. Tears blurred your vision as your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

“Are you going to kill me?” you whispered. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Theo said with a scoff as he rearranged the cuffs and chained you to the bed. “You wouldn’t be any fun if you’re dead.” 

Fear gripped every fiber of your being in a chokehold. Theo leaned back and admired his work. The intensity of his gaze felt like a brand against your skin as he drank in the sight of you spread out for him. The silk of your dress was stained with blood, the fabric nearly see through from how soaked it was. 

“You’re such a pretty little thing all tied up like a present for me, principessa.” 

His blue eyes were nearly black as he gazed at you with unadulterated desire. The pale moonlight streaming through the window casted sinister shadows on his face. 

“If you’re not going to kill me, then what do you plan on doing?” 

“I’m so glad you asked,” Theo declared with a deranged smile as he brandished his knife. “I plan on worshipping every inch of your body.” The cold edge of his blade traced the curve of your jaw. “I plan on making you see God with my tongue, my fingers, my cock.” The knife continued its path down the valley of your breasts. “I plan on possessing you, owning you, and ruining you for every other man.” 

“You barely even know me,” you pleaded, shying away from the blade that now rested on the hem of your dress. “I’m not yours, Theo.” 

The air left your lungs all at once as his hand wrapped around your throat. The lack of oxygen made you dizzy and you grew limp against the bed, barely even registering the blade caressing your skin. 

“I’ll carve my name into your thigh if that’s what it takes to get it through your pretty little head that you are mine.” 

You coughed as he released his hold, disoriented by the sudden rush of air into your lungs. “Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me, oh fuck —“ 

Your hips jerked at the sudden cold sensation between your legs. Theo watched in amusement as he pressed the hilt of his blade against your clothed core, drinking in the way you writhed underneath him. 

“What was that, bella?” Theo teased. “I can’t hear you over all that moaning.” 

Your cheeks burned with shame as you continued his ministrations against your clit. It was a purely physical response, but it felt like your own body was betraying you. This wasn’t supposed to feel good. You hated the way you reacted to his touch, his words, his gaze. You hated him. 

“You’re a sick fuck,” you yelled as you tugged at your restraints. Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or pleasure. “This is vile, this is evil. I hate you. I fucking hate you —“ 

Theo chuckled darkly as he tugged your panties to the side and slipped the hilt of his blade through your folds without warning. “Then why are you so fucking wet for me?” 

“I’m not!” In all your life, you had never felt more degraded and humiliated. The conflicting emotions warred in your mind, but the truth of the matter was that you had absolutely no control over your own arousal. “I’m not.” 

“You are,” Theo growled as the handle of his blade squelched in your slick. “But by all means, keep lying to yourself. In fact, I quite prefer it if you put up a fight. I like it rough.” 

You groaned, delirious with need as he fucked you with his knife. “When I make you cum, I know that I’ve earned it.” 

You bit down on your bottom lip until blood filled your mouth. The horror of the scene unfolding before you filled you with dread yet you couldn’t stop the moans and whines that escaped past your lips. When you looked up, Theo was transfixed by the sight of your greedy cunt taking his knife.

“That’s it, Y/N,” hummed Theo. “This will be a lot easier if you just stop fighting it. You want this. You want me.” 

“I — I don’t! I don’t want —“ 

“I —I don’t want,” Theo mocked. “How fucking pathetic. You can’t even finish that sentence without moaning.” He pulled out his knife and slid two fingers in without warning. His cruel laugh echoed in the bedroom when the sound of your slick filled the silence. “If you don’t want me, then why are you riding my fingers like this, hm?” 

There was no answer as he plunged the hilt of his knife into you again, stretching and filling you in the most delicious way. His thumb rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves in tantalizing circles, pushing you towards the edge of pleasure. 

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an orgasm, but it couldn’t be helped. There was no stopping the intense pleasure that barrelled through your body. As you crested over the finish line, your vision went dark. The depravity of the act filled you with mortification and indignity. Theo, on the other hand, looked euphoric. 

“You’re so beautiful when you cum,” he whispered softly. 

You wanted to claw and scratch and hit him for the way he made you feel. Theo presented the knife to you with reverence. The blade was soaked in blood, but the hilt dripped with your cum. His tongue darted out and licked and lapped at your arousal with long, languid strokes as his eyes rolled back in euphoria. The way he moaned when he tasted you was obscene. 

“You taste so sweet,” Theo rasped in a choked groan. “Such a good girl for me.” 

This was beyond fucked up. 

Theo was beyond fucked up. 

You watched in alarm, waiting for disgust to overwhelm your senses, but it never came. Instead, your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight. What the fuck was wrong with you? 

Theo leaned over you, his brown curls brushing against your nose as he smirked. “Don’t I get a kiss as a reward for making you feel so good?” 

The absence of pleasure finally made you come to your senses. “Fuck you.” 

The depth of his blue eyes was swallowed by a void that threatened to suffocate you. The man before you transformed into a monster as he growled and held his knife against your throat. “Let me rephrase that,” he hissed as the blade nicked your skin. “If you don’t kiss me, I’ll slit your fucking throat.” 

You whimpered as the blade dug deeper into your neck, causing small droplets of blood to stain your sheets. Theo stared at you with malice, his face hovering a few inches from yours as he waited for your next move. His cool breath fanned over your skin while his lips ghosted over yours. 

“Please, Y/N?” Theo pouted as he blinked down at you through his thick, dark lashes. “Just one kiss, please.” 

It was apparent that he wanted you to make the first move. As if it would absolve him from this abhorrent act. As if it would exculpate him despite the threat he made on your life if you refused to comply. In some sick, twisted way, you knew that the second your lips touched his, Theo felt absolutely vindicated. 

The growl that crawled out of his throat was purely animalistic. It spoke of need, of desire, of lust that had simmered underneath the surface for far too long. The taste of you, soft and supple and sweet, was better than anything Theo could have ever imagined. His cock strained against his pants as he deepened the kiss, tongue sweeping over the seam of your lips to demand entrance. 

A part of you wanted to fight back, to pull away from him, but it was nearly impossible when he harshly grabbed your jaw and forced his way in. You opened for him reluctantly, but that was all he needed. Theo was the type of person to take a mile when given an inch. His hands roamed your body while his tongue massaged yours, moaning, panting, licking the roof of your mouth with unabashed glee. Theo squeezed your tits and gripped your hips and wrapped your legs around his waist. He felt like a dog in heat as he rutted himself against your clothed cunt. 

Fuck, he was so hard it hurt. 

Dazed and drunk with desire, Theo pulled away, his gaze sweeping over your kiss bitten lips and flushed cheeks. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

It was fucking horrible, horrendous, atrocious. You wanted the deepest pits of hell to open up and swallow you whole. Because that kiss had lit a fire in your belly despite your disgust for the man forcing himself on you. 

Before you could think twice, you reared back and spit right into his face. Theo blinked in surprise. You expected anger, but amusement greeted you instead. The motherfucker was enjoying this. 

“You’re a feisty thing, aren’t you?” Theo drawled as he unclasped his belt. The sight caused panic to grip you from all sides. “Don’t worry, principessa. I’ll fuck the fight right out of you. I will break you until you become the good girl that I know you can be.” 

“Theo please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you sobbed and begged. “Don’t do this, please.” 

Theo chuckled darkly. “You’re not sorry,” he said as he cut your dress open with his blade. “But you will be.” 

Exposed and vulnerable, you struggled against your restraints as Theo trailed kisses down your torso. His lips were a searing brand against your skin, sucking and biting and marking your skin as though he was staking his claim on your body. His deft fingers unhooked your bra and his pupils were completely black as he ogled your chest. 

With his lips latched around your nipple, Theo blinked innocently up at you. “I’m so fucking in love with you,” he murmured as he flicked his tongue over the stiffened peak. “You make me crazy, Y/N.” 

You moaned as he sucked fervently, losing himself in the heat of your skin and the scent of your perfume. Roses and vanilla. Sweet and simple, just like his pretty girl. Theo groaned as he lavished your other nipple the same treatment. 

There was such reverence and awe in the way that he touched you. For a brief moment, you forgot how truly vile he was because the second his fingers slipped inside of you and curved against that sweet spot, every ounce of common sense abandoned you. 

“I bet Adrian would’ve never gotten you this wet, huh?”

Your eyes snapped open at the reminder. Somewhere underneath you, Adrian’s lifeless body was still bleeding out on your wooden floors. “You’re fucking awful — o —oh —“ 

The involuntary whimper that crawled up your throat was pathetic, but you couldn’t help it. Theo had ripped your panties to shreds and positioned the head of his cock over your folds, teasing and taunting at your entrance as you continued to resist. 

“Theo, Theo, please,” you pleaded as he began to breach your cunt. You kicked your legs in the air and tilted your hips away from him, anything to keep him away from you, but it didn’t work. 

Theo held your hips down, his large hands forming bruises on your skin. “Stay fucking still,” he growled against your neck before biting down hard. 

Shocked, you stopped struggling and cried as the sting broke skin. Theo took the opportunity to push the head of his cock inside of you, making your eyes water from the sheer length of him. He was too big, it didn’t fit, it fucking hurt. But the desperate pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears as Theo fully sheathed himself in your warmth. 

“So fucking tight,” Theo grunted as he slowly dragged his cock out of your pussy, entranced at the way your bodies melded together, watching your cunt clench around nothing before slamming all the way in. Your teeth clattered together from the force. “Dio mio, you feel so fucking good. I want to ruin you.” 

Once more, he pulled out and pushed into your warmth, savoring the way you squeezed around him. The sensation made you dizzy with desire. Try as you might to fight it, every breach of his cock only stretched and filled you even more, the filthy sound of your pussy squelching with every thrust echoing in the room. 

“Wanted this for so long,” Theo grunted. “You have no idea what it’s been like for me, cara mia.” His hips snapped against your ass while he drove deeper and deeper, thick cock kissing the tip of your cervix. “But now I finally get to have you all to myself.” 

Your knees buckled, every brush of his cock within your snug walls weakening your resolve as he fucked you into the mattress. His pace was relentless, punishing, and it was all you could do to lose yourself in him completely. 

“Don’t fight it, bella.” Theo murmured as he hiked your legs up over his shoulders. “I could be so good to you.” He punctuated his statement with a slam of his hips. “I know everything about you. Probably better than you know yourself. I’ve watched, I’ve waited, I’ve wanted.” Another slam caused you to writhe and arch your back off the bed. “No one else could ever love you like I do.” 

A breathy moan pushed its way past your lips without your consent. Self-loathing made you flush with embarrassment; your body was betraying you in the worst way as your own slick dripped down your thighs while Theo angled your hips to sink in deeper. He had spoken true about knowing you better than you knew yourself, because he seemed to know how to caress you, how to kiss you, how to command you until you were teetering off the edge once again. 

His long fingers circled your clit, stroking the sensitive bud in the exact same way that he had watched you touch yourself over the past few months. Theo was diligent in every sense of the word; his studious nature pushed him to perfection. The focus in which he devoted into pleasuring you was singular. He was obsessive and possessive; he was determined to make this good for you. His pretty girl deserved nothing but the best. 

“You can’t deny that we’re a perfect fit,” he murmured, dead-eyed gaze drinking in the sight of him slipping in and out of you. You tried to avert your gaze, but Theo gripped your chun and forced you to watch. “Look how well you’re taking me. It’s like we were made for each other, my love.”

Words failed you at the heat of the moment and even if you regained the ability to speak, you wouldn’t know what to say. Theo took your silence for submission, his lips pressed against yours, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip while he pounded into you. 

The instinct to fight dimmed with each urgent thrust, buried deep within the recesses of your mind. All you could do was moan in pleasure and Theo eagerly drank in every gasp and pant and whimper, studying your face as though he was committing every detail to memory.

“Please, please,” you panted. You weren’t quite sure whether you were begging him to stop or urging him to continue, but either way, Theo seemed to know exactly what you needed. 

His kisses were open mouthed and filthy, swallowing your protests with the flick of his tongue. You jerked when Theo slapped your pussy, chuckling against your mouth before he kneaded his thumb against your tender nub harder and faster. 

“Theo —“ The realization that your climax was near filled you with both excitement and indignation. 

“Be a good girl and come for me, Y/N.” 

You clenched as Theo squeezed your throat in his fist, momentarily robbing you of oxygen. Somehow its absence intensified the sensations. The combination of Theo pushing his cock into you again and again while his thumb stroked your clit harder and harder sent you barreling over the edge. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, making your legs shake and your walls spasm around his cock. 

“Oh fuck,” Theo cursed, his resolve close to breaking. “Just like that, cara mia. Squeezing me so tight, milking my fucking cock dry.” 

Stars burst behind your lids as his balls slapped against your clit, coaxing yet another orgasm out of you. Your mind went fuzzy with static. A faint ringing echoed in your ears while you trembled and convulsed. 

“Such a good girl,” Theo grunted as he chased after his own pleasure. You were limp and boneless underneath him, unable to respond save for a pathetic whimper. “I’m going to fill this pretty pussy up with my cum, bella. You’re going to let me, aren’t you?” 

You started to shake your head, but Theo paid the action no mind. “Take it, cara mia,” he said forcefully. “Take my cock, take my heart, take all of me.” 

Your tits jiggled as he fucked you through his own orgasm, his thrusts growing erratic as he spilled his thick, hot cum inside of you. His eyes rolled back at the thought of filling you and stuffing you full of his seed. It overflowed past your sensitive, puffy folds and dripped down your thighs. Even when he pulled his softening cock out of you, Theo made sure to push it all back in with his fingers. You whimpered at the sensitivity between your legs as he leaned back to admire his work. 

Theo seemed to take pity on you, tutting at the red circles around your wrist. “M’gonna take the cuffs off now, okay, bella?” 

You nodded, trembling slightly when he finally unchained you from the bed. Theo cooed over your raw wrists, kissing and fawning over the sensitive skin. Taking full advantage of the distraction, you snatched the knife Theo had carelessly discarded by his thigh and drove the blade into his shoulder. 

Theo hissed in surprise, his blue eyes widening. “You fucking stabbed me,” he declared incredulously. “You really fucking stabbed me.” 

“Oh my God —“ you sobbed, regret flooding you all at once as your hands shook over the blade. “Theo, I didn’t mean — fuck, are you okay —“ 

The shock caused you to let your guard down, tears streaming down your face as the realization of what you had just done crashed over you. Despite the blade sticking out from his shoulder, Theo seamlessly switched positions so that you were straddling his lap. 

Your right hand was frozen in place, still holding the blade while shaking violently. You expected anger and fear, but Theo only flashed you a lovesick smile as he wrapped his slender fingers around your wrist. “Don’t be shy, Y/N,” Theo teased. “You can do better than that, can’t you?” 

You screamed as Theo drove the blade further into his shoulder, the wound splattering a rain of blood all over your face and hair. “Stop, stop it! Don’t. Theo, stop, please —”

Theo tilted his head and examined you with a curious expression. His gaze softened as you sobbed and trembled in his lap. In his silky voice, he whispered soothing words in your ear and stroked your back to calm your growing hysteria. 

“Aw, you’re worried about me? That’s cute, bella.” The timbre of his voice almost sounded proud. “I wouldn’t waste your tears, though. I'll be fine. It’s just a silly little nick. Besides, now that I’ve had you, it won’t be that easy to get rid of me.”

You gasped as his hardness poked against your ass. How could he be fucking hard at a time like this? There was goddamn knife sticking out of his shoulder, for fuck’s sake!

“Look at you, crying over me.” His voice was husky with need as he rolled his erection against you. It seemed that not even a murder attempt could faze the man underneath you. If anything, Theo seemed turned on by it. God, he was so fucked up. “It’s a good sign, bella. It means that you care. To think, just moments ago, you said you hated me, but here you are concerned for my well being.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to listen to him speak. It only confused you more. Theo kissed your tears away and caressed your cheek. His violation of you earlier was a direct contradiction of the way he handled you with such gentleness and care, almost like you were something precious to him. You couldn’t reconcile the warring versions of him in your mind. 

“Please, stop,” you murmured as you tried to cover your ears. “You’re confusing me.”

“There’s nothing to be confused about,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Clearly, you care about me. Otherwise, you would have aimed for my heart.” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you whispered in a broken sob. “I just wanted — I wanted —” 

In truth, you didn’t know what you wanted. It was all too traumatic and taxing to fully process. Theo pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Shh, hush now, principessa. I told you, I’ll take care of you. You never have to worry about anything ever again. You can trust me, I promise. I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. I’ll kill anyone who tries. I love you so fucking much.” 

Theo gently pried your wrists away and kissed your fingertips. “You don’t love me yet,” he admitted in a wistful tone. “But you will, bella.” 

[opalblade]

9 MAY 25.

𓂀 NEPTUNE, THE DECEIVER .

THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY OLD ACCOUNT.

dividers by cursed-carmine

i don't really believe in malefic planets, per say, but if i had to pick one, it would be neptune.

some positives about neptune is that it's a higher octave venus and makes the native artistically inclined. neptunians are also masters of glamour and creating personas.

but it also blurs lines and boundaries, causing the native to become neglectful of their life as they struggle with the difference between fantasy and reality. as neptune represents smoke and mirrors, it clouds the truth of situations by shrouding them in mystery, and even by making unfavourable situations seem desirable and glamorous (think: hollywood and fame).

neptunians can also try to reach this "fantasy" through drugs and alcohol, which is why i think neptune also represents those things.

even the romanticisation of neptune on tumblr is a sign of the way neptune appears and makes people behave.

the following are some examples of how some neptune aspects may manifest. remember to take your entire chart into consideration.

SUN - NEPTUNE

may have an unstable / extremely fluid sense of self and personality

may have a grandiose sense of self

may have an absent or neglectful father - might be idealised in the native's eyes

MOON - NEPTUNE

prone to ignoring negative emotions to live out the positive ones – toxic positivity.

may romanticise negative emotions and even trauma – "sad girls" and "traumacore".

could have had a manipulative, self-victimising mother that gaslighted them.

VENUS - NEPTUNE

tends to be blinded by the truth in love.

more likely to see the good and ignore red flags.

prone to love at first sight and refusing to let go of the idealised version of their crush/significant other.

may be prone to infidelity.

MARS - NEPTUNE

their drive and motivation is driven by an innate need to achieve a fantasy.

may possess a saviour complex.

the native may daydream about taking action rather than actually doing anything.

prone to drug abuse or taking intoxicating substances.

romanticising violence and/or trauma.

JUPITER - NEPTUNE

may believe they are luckier than they are.

may possess a saviour/martyr complex.

may be deluded by spirituality or religion.

likely to be deluded by any form of dogma (including political ideologies).

ASCENDANT - NEPTUNE

incomplete sense of self / outlook on the world.

prone to co-opting other's personalities and opinions, and so fails to build their own sense of self.

may have a chameleon like personality and might present themselves differently to everyone.

may suffer from imposter syndrome.

may wear rose-coloured glasses in their approach to the world and so their view of the world could be idealistic.

. *     .     　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　    ˚ . *     .     　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　

© 2025 opalblade. do not copy, repost, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

American Psycho Killer

Summary: Leon S. Kennedy, a man who’s taken his duty of protection very seriously. He’ll do anything to ensure the safety of people, especially the safety of one particular girl.

Warning: stalking, murdering, mentions of planned murder, mentions of drugs and drug abuse, gore (kinda), death, masturbation (m receiving), smut, creampie, yan!leon, not proofread lol, fem reader, psychopathic.

A/N: I did my research for this as I wanted this to sound a little spooky teehee :3

[part two]

“I got you under my skin” - Mirotic, TVXQ!

Psychopath vs. Sociopath. The popular argument in between psychologists.

Leon never really cared enough to get himself checked out but there were signs. He didn’t feel empathy for others, his moves were calculated and he’s highly educated. He has a well paying career, he pretends to be this normal guy when in reality, he’s psychopathic.

What defines a psychopath apart from a sociopath? Psychopaths, at least in Leon’s case, cannot form established bonds with others. He doesn’t feel guilt or sad when he sees a person die by his hands.

His job already requires him to kill so this was an easy feat. He doesn’t care. He can’t feel anything.

He couldn’t feel anything until you came along.

Leon lived in this apartment complex just downtown of a city in the state. The apartment was big and had security cameras all around. It was well guarded and the people were kind.

When he saw the new neighbor move in, he felt weird. He narrowed his eyes as he watched you from the window of his apartment loft. He was growing suspicious at his behavior. Why did his chest feel warm? Why is his heart beating fast? Why are his hands sweating?

He didn’t know. Up to this point he didn’t feel anything but you brought something to him and it made him uneasy. So he decided to keep an eye on you.

Days passed after you moved in and you settled just fine. The old lady at the end of the hall brought you cookies, a sweet old lady. She talked to Leon a few times and he didn’t think much of her other than just as his neighbor. Nothing more.

But if you were to ask him what he thought of you? Oh boy, he thought a lot of things. Both good and bad.

Being a psychopath isn’t praised in society. Only 1% of the population is considered one and no one knew he belonged to that percentage. And he’d like to keep it that way; his excuse for his behavior was his job. He always left early in the morning and came back late at night. A manipulator and a liar is what he was, and a very good one.

He’s seen you leave your apartment from time to time. You’d take out the trash, went out with your friends- he’s seen everything you do.

Leon isn’t stupid, he’s attentive and observant. He leaves no trace behind of the murder he just committed. The male neighbor across from your door saw you one day when you walked out of your door with a short dress.

The man eye-fucked you so much he literally almost started drooling. Leon cringed and found him repulsive. How dare he look at you like you were some meat on the market?

He felt anger and disgust. No one should look at you like that. No one.

So, one summer day, he made up an excuse to visit him. Something about a water pipe connecting to his sink that didn’t make it work. Like I said, Leon is a good manipulator and a good liar. He always gets what he wants.

The male neighbor invited him in and closed the door behind him. He offered Leon a beer, to which he refused. He found liquor and other substances repulsive. He walked over to the man’s kitchen sink and began to inspect it.

He noticed the man’s sink had a garbage disposal unit. That’s pretty dangerous, he thought to himself.

He walked over to where the man was sitting. The male neighbor was sitting on his reclining couch as he watched a game with a cup of beer on the stand next to him. The neighbor was so engrossed on the football game that he didn’t notice Leon slipping something into his drink.

Leon was smart. Dangerously smart. He knew everything when it came to death- he worked in the DSO, of course he knew some things. He knew the effects of alprazolam and what it does to the brain.

So when he lied to a psychiatrist about his insomnia and got prescribed some Xanax, he crushed a high dosage into fine powder and slipped it into the man’s beer.

Stupid bastard, Leon thought to himself.

He watched as the male neighbor took a sip of his drink and Leon waited. Xanax is a powerful drug, can cause hallucinations and make your brain become a little too calm. You’re bound to fall asleep at some point. And with the amount Leon dropped into his drink, he knew he’d knock out sooner than later.

After a few minutes of “tinkering” with the man’s sink. He got up and went to check on the man again.

And sure as hell did the man find himself in a profound slumber. His snores layering with the sound of the TV.

Too easy, Leon smirked to himself. He put on some elastic gloves and made sure he wore shoes that wouldn’t leave footprints. In case things would get messy, of course.

He poured the man’s drink down the sink to get rid of the evidence. He then thought hard about how he should go about this.

There’s many different ways one can commit murder but Leon wanted the cleanest one. So he came up with one.

He brought pans to the stove and made it seem like the man was cooking something for himself. He partially cooked a stupid egg and left it there. Leon went back to where the man was sitting and dragged him out of his couch and towards the kitchen. Since this man’s place was small, the kitchen and dining area were joined together. He sat there man down on the dining table, which happened to be near the stove. He took out the man’s phone and put it in the man’s hand to make it seem like he was using it.

Leon went back to the kitchen and continued to prepare the scene. He took out bottles of alcohol the man had and poured them down the drain to make it look like he’d had a few drinks. He took a single cup from the cup rack and filled it up halfway. With the cup and bottle of whiskey in both hands, he walked back to the table where the man was sitting and laid them on the table. He took the half empty cup and smeared the man’s lip on the rim. You must cover every single detail.

He even poured a little alcohol into the man’s already parted lips. Leon walked back to the stoved and kept the gas on. Now all he needed to do was wait and let nature do its thing.

Leon walked out of his apartment, pretending to still be talking to the man since there was a camera on the corner of the hall. As the door opened, the camera couldn’t record that Leon had been talking to himself. It made the act believable.

With a smile, Leon walked back to his place and stayed there.

A few hours passed and it started to get dark outside, each resident was inside their unit and ready to go to sleep when the fire alarm began to sound. Everyone was forced to evacuate the premises as the firefighters came to the scene.

You saw as the ambulance brought out a stretcher into the building. Someone was still inside, you thought to yourself as your eyes widened and your heart rate increased. You tried to move but felt someone’s hand on your arm, it was Leon.

“Don’t. It’s too dangerous,” he replied in a serious tone as he stared at you with those cold blue eyes. You pinched your brows together. He was right. If you were to try and save the person, you’d die in the process. You nodded defeatedly and he let go of your arm. He stood there watching you- analyzing you.

You had a good heart, he thought. Too good for his liking. That made you an easy target for people and he loathed the idea of people exploiting your kindness. He vowed to protect you, to mark his hands dirty for you.

As the EMT brought back the stretcher, you could see a person lying there lifeless. All the other residents immediately started to mutter amongst themselves, some started to cry and others gasped in shock. You simply stood there, wide eyed and jaw slack. Leon’s expression remained unchanged as he watched you react to the man’s death. The man deserved it, he thought to himself.

Couldn’t you see that he was protecting you? You’ll come around eventually, he thought.

As the ambulance left the area, the firefighters started to clear the smoke as the police arrived. The police began to do their investigation as the firefighters checked the unit and deemed it good after clearing out the fire and the smoke. One police officer began to make her way to the apartment as the other stayed behind with the residents to ask questions.

Leon was a smooth talker. A trait most psychopaths had. He could get himself out of any situation and he could lie. So when the police asked him what had happened, Leon simply replied with, “I’m not sure. I went to his apartment to check his water supply as my sink stopped working and he lived next to me. I noticed he was making himself some food but I was too busy checking our pipes. He reeked of alcohol and barely spoke to me,” Leon’s tone was different. He sounded likey he spoke the truth.

You couldn’t help but listen to his words. To you, they are true. You saw him walk out of the man’s apartment.

The investigation was deemed as self-manslaughter. The police believed that the man suffered from deliberate alcohol poisoning which caused him to pass out in the process of cooking himself some food.

This made news headlines. Everyone believed the story but they thought the man was stupid enough to cook while he was drunk. Many of the residents believed it, he was a known alcoholic. Leon was never caught.

He was watching you from the window, months after the incident occurred. You had just come back from your college lecture. Leon knew. He stalked you, he followed you.

He knew your weekly routine. Monday through Thursday you had lectures. On Friday, you did work study. And the weekends were reserved for your personal time. He felt proud of you for balancing your life. You lived healthily and he couldn’t help but feel proud at your decisions. He knew you were smart enough to take care of yourself.

He knew the campus you went to, he knew the classes you were taking, he knew your major- he knew everything. But he pretended like he didn’t.

So when he saw you in the parking lot, right next to his car and you had trouble with your groceries, he couldn’t help but feel like your knight in shining armor. With his hardened expression, he asked you in his stern and serious voice, “Need some help?”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, “Yeah… you don’t mind helping me?” You scratched your head awkwardly. On the inside, he found it adorable. But on the outside, he maintained his cool. He nodded and walked over to your car to retrieve the bags of groceries you bought. He was so strong he carried all the bags to your apartment door. You thanked him graciously and invited him inside.

“You can put them on the table, I’ll assort them,” you said as you took of your jacket and hanged it on the rack right next to the door. He nodded and walked over to the dining table, where he put all the bags with food. He took this opportunity to look around your place.

You kept it simple. It was nice, colorful, but nice. You had tons of books on your shelves, he took a mental note that you probably liked to stay indoors. He noticed the way your laptop and a few papers were scattered on the couch and coffee table, you were studious and dedicated to your education. He silently applauded you in his head. He liked that about you. You had goals and ambitions.

“Thank you, again. I owe you one,” you walked up to him and gave him a warm, genuine smile. He looked down at you and nodded again. Pretty smile, he thought to himself.

“It’s no problem, let me know if you need help with anything. I’m a couple doors away,” he replied with his usual serious tone. He remained unchanged, at least to you. To him, he felt like he about to combust into pieces. You were perfect, absolutely perfect.

Days went by and you found yourself talking to Leon more often. Or at least on the days you could. Leon was gone most of the day, he told you about his hectic work schedule and you couldn’t help but feel bad about him. So you decided to make him a small dinner with a note.

You left it on the front door of his apartment and walked back to yours. When Leon came back from work, it was 2:27 a.m. As he climbed up the steps of the stairs, he noticed something on his front door and felt slightly confused. He hasn’t ordered anything. He grew cautious and slowly approached his door. But then he saw your name on a sticky note. He quickly picked up the lunch box and walked inside his apartment.

Walking to his dining table, he read the note you left. Even your handwriting was perfect. The little swirls of the letters, almost writing in cursive made him want to keep you all to himself. He brought the piece of paper to his nose and sniffed it roughly, the paper crumbling in his hands as he could smell your scent on it. He groaned in pleasure as he could imagine your soft and small hands picking up a pen and write something just for him.

Just for him.

That thought alone almost set him off. He couldn’t eat dinner, not with the growing erection in his pants. He put the dinner you made in his freezer and quickly walked to his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and unbuckled his belt, throwing it somewhere on the floor. He pulled down his pants and boxers and watched as his cocked sprung freely, hitting his abdomen with a thwack.

His left hand held the piece of water with your handwriting and your scent while his right hand traveled to his cock. He brought the piece of paper to his nose again and closed his eyes in pure delight. Your scent was intoxicating- sweet vanilla with a hint of coffee. He grunted and moaned at the thought of your hands picking writing this note. He could picture your small hands wrapping his big cock, rubbing his base up and down as your scent infiltrated his airway.

His muscles tensed up as the thought of having you in between his legs made his cock throb. His stomach coiled as he felt himself nearing his orgasm. He could imagine your mouth sucking on his cock as he rammed his hips deeper down your throat, making you gag on him. He’d grab your hair and pull you closer to his pelvic area, having his blonde pubic hair rub against your face as you took his cock like a good girl.

He growled your name as he came in himself. White ropes shooting down at his palm as he tried to collect his cum and prevent it from staining any of his furniture. He sighed softly and laid his back on the mattress as he thought of you.

You drive him wild, he’d do anything for you. If it meant having you as his.

And that’s what drove him to kill more people. One day, he overheard you while both of you “coincidentally” went to get the mail from the lobby. You were speaking on the phone to a friend and he tried to make it seem like he wasn’t listening. But he was.

He heard you talk about how your ex is pestering you and giving you a hard time. That you cried last night because you two had an argument while he tried to get back together. His blood ran through his veins as you mentioned you cried.

He’d kill anyone who made this sweet and perfect angel cry. And that’s what his next murder was going to be. He went back to his apartment and began to stalk you again. As a government agent, he had privileges the common folk didn’t have. He was able to run a background check on you and found out your ex. To his surprise, he was your first and only relationship so far. He knew this guy probably broke your heart as your first relationship will always be your worst one.

He narrowed his eyes in anger as he found the man who broke your heart. And jotted down the information he had on him- his address, his workplace, his contact information, etc. Leon found everything thanks to his job.

When you heard news about your ex dying, you were shocked to see that he died from overdose. You’ve never known he was a drug addict, or at least that’s what Leon made it seem to be.

Leon drove all the way this man’s house and observed his routine. Your ex went to work, came back home, and went to the bar. An alcoholic, this made it easier for him.

Leon walked into the bar with his casual clothes, he spotted the man sitting on the bar counter with a drink already in his hand. He walked over and sat next to him as he ordered himself whiskey.

Your ex was already stupidly drunk, flirting up some poor girl who was just trying to talk to her friend. So he’s a creep too, he thought to himself as he took a sip his drink.

Why do you always find yourself around creepy and perverted men?

Leon looked around and made sure no one was watching him as slipped some stuff into his drink. Leon then continued to sip his drink and even chatted up the bartender.

The more your ex drank, the closer he got to an overdose. Turns out if you mix alcohol with prednisone, the effects could be fatal. Your ex would develop a liver damage that could potentially end his life if he kept drinking like he was right now.

It was getting late and Leon paid his tab. It was 11 PM and he decided he should go home. He wasn’t drunk, not yet at least. So he was perfectly capable of driving back to his apartment. But not your ex.

It was nearing closing time for the bar and the poor bartender saw your ex passed out on the counter. She didn’t know what to do but she tried waking him up.

Unresponsive. Her eyes widened slightly as she over to his side and checked for a pulse.

Flat line. She called the police and reported the death.

The police declared it suicide. They believed he voluntarily took drugs and alcohol at the same time.

In your mind, you were in denial but then you slowly began to think to yourself. He’s been acting weird and out of the ordinary when he’d talk about getting back together. It all made sense now. His aggressive behavior, his short temper… he was a drug addict and an alcoholic.

You attended the funeral, of course. And when you came back, Leon had been unlocking his door. He saw your puffy eyes as you had your heels in your hands. You looked like you’ve been crying- which you probably were. Leon paused as he stared at you, he nodded once at you, acknowledging your presence. He then spoke up in a tired voice, “Rough day?”

You nodded as you blinked slowly, “You could say that.”

He hummed in response and looked back down at his doorknob. Then he looked back to you, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Leon himself was tired as he just came back from a tough mission, but he would never be too tired for you. He pushed his exhaustion to the side and would rather take care of your needs for you.

You sighed and nodded slowly, “I could use a drink.”

He invited you over to his apartment and let you sit down on his couch as he took two glasses and one bottle of Jack. He walked over to the couch and set down the glasses and the bottle on the coffee table as he sat down next to you.

He began to pour for the both of you, not wanting you to work any more than you’ve already had.

“Cheers,” you muttered under your breath as you clanked your glass with his and chugged the liquid down your throat. The burning sensation almost making you forget about the mental strain you had.

He watched you as you set down the glass back down on the coffee table. Even in this state, you looked absolutely beautiful. He couldn’t wait to have you for himself. To prove to you that what you needed was a real man.

One thing let to another and you found yourself pinned under him on his bed. Your legs spread open as your knees rested on his shoulders. The head of his cock abusing your cervix, bruising it with brute force as he pulled out and pushed back in harshly. His balls smacking against your ass as his arms caged you under him. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails clawing deep into his flesh as the bed creaked from him pounding into you. The headboard hitting the wall behind the bed as he pulled out and forced his cock back into your tight walls. Your cunt clenching around his member as his hands gripped on your hair, forcing your head up so he could hear your stupid blabber.

He pulled out and rolled you over to your stomach. His left hand gripped on your waist as his right hand gripped the back of your neck and pushed your face down the sheets of his bed as he rammed his cock from behind you. Your ass jiggling as pounded harsher and harsher. Making sure you knew who you belonged to. He’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

You kept moaning his name against his pillow. Drool falling down your lips as tears rolled down your cheeks from the pleasure. You felt him even deeper from this position. His left hand gripped on your waist as it then traveled down to your ass and smacked, almost immediately seeing his hand print show in a pink and red hue on your skin. The burning sensation of the slap only made you more needy for his touch. His left hand found your hip and forced your body to clash against his as he fucked you straight to bliss.

Stars clouded your eyes as you whimpered and moaned. He cock throbbed and twitched inside of you as it stretched you. It hurt but it hurt good. His right hand gently squeezed the back of your throat, causing you to moan.

“Fuck- Leon- ‘mma cum-“ you spoke breathlessly in between moans and whimpers. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Cum for me,” he pressed a kiss on your shoulder blade as he felt you squirm under him. Your body convulsing as your orgasm took the best of you.

Your pussy clamped and clenched around him, wedging him with your juices. He didn’t stop, however. He kept pounding into you as the squelching sound echoed through his room.

He grunted and growled as he felt himself about to cum. He began to speed up and he let go of your neck. Now that both of his hands were on your hips, he gripped the fat of them and forced your body in and out of his cock. Bruising your cervix as your ass hit his hips. The sweat making your skin glisten under the shitty light of his room. You looked even more beautiful when he was fucking you like this.

His hot and sticky cum spurted out of his cock, coating your walls with a part of himself. In his sick and twisted mind, he branded you. He branded you with his essence and he didn’t regret it. He pulled out and heard you moan dumbly as he watched his cum slowly drip down the lips of your cunt to his bedsheet. He’d have to clean them but he didn’t care. He gave your ass a gentle squeeze as he patted your back for you to lay down. He knew you enjoyed it so much since you were on the brink of passing out.

You closed your eyes and felt as Leon cleaned you up. He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss on you knuckles. He was grateful to have you.

He wouldn’t mind killing again. Now that you were his in his mind, he’d go as far as killing every man who’s ever laid eyes on you.

For you, he’d become the world’s best serial killer.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Characters with a "Victim Mentality"

Victim Mentality - a type of mindset in which an individual believes they are a constant target of misfortune and have no control over their situation.

Individuals who adopt a victim mentality typically experienced a traumatic event that lowered their self-confidence.

Rather than coping with failure in a healthy and productive way, individuals with a victim mentality resort to chronic pessimism and defensive patterns of behavior.

By fostering self-pity and minimizing positive events, individuals with a victim mentality struggle to accept productive feedback and fail to adopt a growth mindset.

Signs of Victim Mentality

The main sign of victim mentality is a failure to assume personal responsibility.

Individuals who have a victim mentality have a hard time accepting accountability for their own actions in a situation.

Common behaviors associated with victim mentality include:

making excuses,

blaming others for misfortunes,

resenting other people’s accomplishments, and

believing nothing will change.

Catastrophizing bad things and refusing to develop solutions are also signs of victim mentality behavior.

Thought patterns associated with the victim complex cause individuals to view situations from an exaggerated and unrealistic standpoint.

Causes of Victim Mentality

Victim mentality is a learned behavior and personality trait that usually starts during childhood. Below are common causes of victim mentality:

Avoidance: Victim mentality is an emotional barrier that prevents individuals from displaying vulnerability. Individuals who fear and avoid vulnerability use the victim mentality as a way to distance themselves from their relationships and personal goals.

Betrayal: Repeated breaks in trust reduce an individual’s security and confidence in their relationships. Some people adopt a victim mentality after experiencing numerous forms of betrayal.

Manipulative tendencies: Individuals who seek constant validation from others employ their victim role for attention. Manipulative behavior and entitlement cause this form of victim mentality, as individuals use their sense of powerlessness to gain control over their loved ones.

Past trauma: Learned helplessness can develop from traumatic experiences that cause extreme feelings of helplessness. In some situations of abuse, adopting a victim mindset is a coping mechanism for handling physical or emotional pain.

Impact of Victim Mentality

Victimhood has a negative impact on your mental health and overall well-being.

Negative thinking can result in low self-esteem and self-sabotage behavior.

Allowing these thought patterns to persist can also make you feel frustrated, depressed, and isolated from friends and family members.

Addressing Victim Mentality

When addressing someone with a victim mentality, avoid using labels to describe their situation.

Remain open and calm as you support and guide them through finding help.

While you should validate their feelings, avoid outwardly agreeing with them.

The goal is to eventually reach a point where they feel comfortable taking actions that resolve their negative thinking and assume responsibility for their own life.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[ciciyup]

Yandere! Jack Frost X Fem! Human Reader Headcanons.

cw: obsession, possessiveness, angst, stalking, abuse, power difference, kidnapping, manipulation, isolation, little nsfw.

━━━━━━✧ 🦢 ✧━━━━━━

When your family moved to that quiet neighborhood, winter had already turned everything white. Your mother, nine months pregnant, barely had time to settle in before contractions took her to the nearest hospital. You came into the world on a cold December night, with the snow falling gently outside. Since you were little, you got used to being alone; your parents worked a lot, so most of the time you shared it with yourself. You didn't complain, you enjoyed the tranquility, creating worlds in your imagination that made you see the world with a special spark.

Jack had always been a spirit that fed on the belief and imagination of children, but like many magical beings, he depended on pure faith. It was on one of those days when he saw you for the first time: you were alone with the company of the wind and the snowman you were beginning to create, far from the bustle of the other children playing in the street. He approached you curiously, discreetly helping you as he handed you snowballs, but it was surprising to him when you turned to look at him, thanking him. You could see it. You believed in him. This thrilled Jack, as you were one of the few who did. His first believer in a long time.

From that day on, Jack became your best friend. For long winters, he was the only one who accompanied you as you built snowmen, laughing and running through the snow together, skating on frozen puddles, chatting on cold nights where only the two of you seemed to exist. As you grew up, Jack became your constant companion, not just in winter, but in every season; he watched you silently, with a big smile and a special sparkle in his eyes. To Jack, you were his best friend. His only one.

The years began to pass faster than Jack would have liked, and with them, came the first blow to his heart. You no longer played in the snow like before. When he created little gusts of wind to call you, you simply closed the window and curled up with your phone in hand. You no longer ran excitedly out into the first snowfall or talked to him in the garden. The other guardians began to visit you less and less. The Easter bunny stopped hiding eggs in the garden. The tooth fairy no longer appeared because your baby teeth were long gone. Santa Claus drove by in his sleigh delivering presents, but you no longer seemed to feel the same spirit for Christmas. Even Sandman and the Bogeyman, though present in dreams and nightmares, were no longer a constant part of your life. Jack, on the other hand, couldn’t leave. He was the spirit of winter, yes, but more than that, he was your friend. Your companion. Your only one. Watching you change, watching you drift away, was a pain that seeped into his being like an icy blizzard.

As the years passed, Jack began to visit you less and less, but not because he didn’t want to. You had joined in on adult life; Now you had new responsibilities and much more complex problems than in childhood, which began to extinguish you little by little, taking away your childish innocence, giving way to new things and leaving you little time to enjoy the nostalgia of your days. Jack couldn't forget you. The image of you smiling as you raised your hands to play with the snow in the past winters remained alive in his memory. He knew that you no longer needed him as before, but both of you could still see each other; after all, deep down you never stopped believing. He knew that you could go back to the way things were if he just convinced you.

He began to observe you from afar, watching you leave your house every morning for work and then for university. He was always there, although subtly. Sometimes when you looked out the window, you felt a blast of colder air than usual or saw a frost forming that wasn't there before. Little snowflake shapes formed on your window when it was fogged up and even snow fell in one spot in the garden when you were in the yard. You didn't take it too seriously, minding your own problems, which annoyed Jack, causing him to increase his magic. He wants you to remember your childhood, to come back to him, feeling more and more desperate. He doesn't want to be forgotten. He can't. Jack begins to feel a deep emptiness, a feeling he's never experienced: abandonment. Without you, it's like he's losing his reason for being. Then his feelings darken.

What were once innocent little calls had now become disturbing calls. The streets were so slippery that you avoided going outside, staying in your house where he could see you. Some nights, when you went out with your friends, the winds became stronger and the roads became more dangerous. The storms became more aggressive when you tried to go too far. The power outages in your home were becoming more frequent than usual. And little by little you began to notice something strange; the frost marks on your window were no longer drawings, but words: “stay with me” “don’t ignore me.” Every time you tried to forget him, the cold in your room became unbearable, the icy fog crept into the corners of your room and your fogged-up mirror reflected more words. Even your breath became visible when the weather wasn’t cold enough for that.

The snow fell softly that December afternoon. You walked down the sidewalk with your hands inside the pockets of your coat. A few steps behind you was Jack, although invisible to everyone but you; he had to remain hidden still. He watched each of your movements and each of your expressions, but that afternoon was different. You stopped at the door of a coffee shop; Jack could see how your cheeks turned slightly pink and your gaze softened when, upon entering the place, a boy stood up from a table raising his hand in your direction. Jack gritted his teeth and held on to his cane tightly. A shiver ran down his spine as he saw you sit next to that boy and share a chat between laughs and smiles that seemed to have a hidden meaning.

Because Jack knew it. He knew how things worked in the human world. First it was just a friendship, then romance came, then you would have a partner, then marriage would come and finally children. Then you would no longer have time for him. You would no longer see him. You would no longer need him. Your image of a mother, a wife, in the arms of another, apart from him, drove him crazy. Jack had always been by your side; No one else knew you like he did. No one had been with you on lonely nights when your parents were working. No one had seen you grow, change, laugh and cry in the privacy of your room, only Jack. But this guy, this intruder, wanted to steal you away from him and Jack couldn’t allow it.

It started with small sabotages. No matter how mild the weather was that day, an unforeseen snowstorm always appeared when that boy was around. Soon the scale began to climb with unexpected accidents, your friend’s bike getting completely frozen in the morning, then it was a fall on the ice that left him with a twisted ankle and then came the fever. A sudden and severe cold that left him in bed for days, the doctors couldn’t explain it. You began to feel restless. All of this couldn’t be a coincidence, you knew it well. You knew who it could be about, but you didn’t want to believe it. Your faithful friend, the one who had accompanied you for so many years, doing something so cruel? It couldn't be possible.

It was a winter afternoon as you headed to your friend's house to visit him and check on his health when you saw him. Right in front of you was your old friend, Jack Frost. He casually approached you, trying to tell you about the good days you used to spend together years ago and how hurt he was that you had forgotten him, but you stood your ground, not playing along. That face twisted with falseness and that innocent voice he was using told you that there couldn't be any honesty in his words. Getting straight to the point, you tried to get him to react, telling him that what he had done was not right and wanting to know why he had done it. In return, Jack just looked at you with a disturbingly calm and cold face, wanting you to understand that he only wanted to protect you.

And in an instant the city disappeared. The buildings, the lights, everything faded in a white flash. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself in a completely different place. A winter wonderland stretched out before you, with frozen mountains in the distance and an almost nighttime sky covered in dancing auroras, but what disturbed you the most was the silence. There was no sound of cars, no voices, no trace of human life. They were alone.

Jack called it “your home” where from now on you would live together, without friends, without family, without responsibilities, where no one could bother them. He didn’t want to be cruel to you, but he had no choice but to lock you in an ice room when you tried to escape. Why couldn’t you cooperate with him? Why didn’t you love him like you used to? Now you could finally be together again; you had to be happy. You had to love him like he loved you.

Jack would keep you in that freezing cold room, even though it might look beautiful inside with snowflakes falling and crystals sparkling under the blue light, in reality it would be a cage you couldn't escape from. The environment would become even colder if you tried to do something against him, leaving you shivering until you apologized or showed submission. You wouldn't even try to escape again after the last time he had partially frozen your legs or arms, keeping you outside in the coldest temperatures until you learned your lesson, not even caring about your tears that barely managed to slide down your cheeks due to the cold, quickly crystallizing.

On the other hand, if you behaved as he wanted, you managed to win him to treat you more kindly, giving you warmer clothes or allowing you to move around a larger area and even leave the room for a while, under his supervision, of course. Even if you begged for your freedom, Jack would show false regret, but with a sweetly cruel tone, telling you that it was all for your own good. He would go so far as to force you to smile at him and talk to him lovingly without enduring your looks of hate or sadness, quickly getting annoyed that you ruined his mental fantasy of his perfect world, pressuring you until you acted the way he wanted.

It was lucky when a little bit of heat managed to permeate your body or the place; that's why, when his body begins to collide with yours, you feel a slight heat, which your body instinctively hopes won't end so quickly. As your body is laid back and your back makes contact with the ice table, Jack takes care of keeping your legs apart as he sinks into you with need. Lifting your legs over his shoulders, he gets to watch as his cock slides in and out of your opening. As you hold on tightly to a nearby tree and feel the snowflakes fall on your hair and make contact with your skin, Jack, behind you, while his pelvis hits your ass relentlessly and he listens to your panting become more intense, makes sure you know that there is no better way to stay warm than that.

His smile would widen tenderly when you slept next to him, wrapping you in his arms to comfort you from the same cold that he had imposed moments before to shorten the distance between you. Over time you would realize that that was the only place where you belonged, he was sure of it. He would do whatever it took to make sure you never left his side. Just the two of you, like in the beginning and like it should always have been.

━━━━━━✧ 🦢 ✧━━━━━━

[applestorms]

There's something really fundamental to me about the fact that we never actually see Sebastian's True Form as any kind of full humanoid body. Instead, we're cut down to the basics: eyes, teeth, legs, maybe the occasional clawed hand, all floating around in some loose black mist. The animal heads that we see in the memory arc flashbacks are interesting too-- a dog and a raven (or crow?), naturally, but also an octopus, a snake, a fly. Clawing and watching and grinning at all times, predatory and hungry but also, crucially, amalgamate.

This really emphasizes two fundamental aspects of Sebastian and his role in the story to me, those being:

Sebastian is an unquestionably powerful being in the universe of KURO, a point further emphasized by the fact that we can never truly know him-- not his backstory, not his fully body, not the deeper extent of his motivations or feelings or desires.

Sebastian being so undeniably inhuman is core to his relationship with Ciel, and the ways in which he both does and does not reflect/parallel both Ciel's abusers and most beloved family members.

I think you can kind of read the more indistinct aspects of Sebastian's True Form as being a kind of side effect or representation of the ways in which Ciel views him, especially early on. Again, think about the details of Sebastian that we do see at this point: eyes, mouth, shoes, hands. During his time in the cult, Ciel is objectified and sexualized, used to being watched and surveyed at all times. He is, to Sebastian, a meal, something to be preyed upon and eaten-- but also spoken to, lured in, laughed at and ridiculed and complimented. He is a child locked in a cage, trapped near the ground and thus forced to see the world from below, only ever looking up at the people surrounding him, watching their shoes as they walk around him, over him. He is held and moved, puppetted, manipulated in a very literal, physical sense. The Little Red Riding Hood comparison is very apt here, actually-- eyes to see you, hands to hold you, mouth to eat you.

Yet it is also this fundamental inhumanity that kind of makes their dynamic work at all. As this post so wonderfully puts it, Sebastian's human form is an interface, an emulation, one more body to mix up in the amalgamation of Things He Can Be so that he may better serve his new master. He doesn't really have human desires, or at least not straightforwardly. We know that he likes LARPing as a butler full time, that he is prideful and gets off on being praised (see: the circus), but he clearly isn't really attached to the specifics of that in any human way. He isn't prideful of status, or his looks, or anything that could be connected to a typical human life, because this form is just another one of many, something that can and will change in the future, and has in the past.

We know that Sebastian wants one thing: Ciel. But it is the nuances within how exactly this desire manifests itself that forms the axis that a significant chunk of their dynamic revolves around.

A really interesting aspect of KURO to me that I struggle a bit to put into words is the ways in which both Ciel and Sebastian parallel the antagonists of the series and their friends/loved ones simultaneously. I don't think I've ever read or watched a series where the line between who is a "hero" and who is a "villain" is any less clear. This is not to say that the series has no ethical values, or that there aren't Some People clearly doing worse shit than others (Baron Kelvin when I get you), but most of the main characters that we see all have some kind of fucked up or complex dynamic happening between their personal values, their relationships with others, and larger social norms.

Take Grelle in the very first true arc of the series, for example. There's a fascinating parallel that I don't think I've ever really seen anyone talk about between Grelle's immediate murder of Anne the second she fails to live up to her expectations, and the eventual consumption of Ciel at the hands of Sebastian that has been teased since the very beginning. Not only is this moment a fantastic tone-establishing moment for the rest of the series, showing firsthand the brutality that it is willing to commit against even its central characters, it's also one of the first times we get this blurring-of-the-lines moment between protagonist and antagonist. It's an ongoing theme of the series, honestly, particularly with some of the more intense enemies that they go up against-- everybody's a hypocrite, but only one side is going to win. The Circus kids were powerless and pitiful and latched onto the first kind hand that was offered to them, regardless of how they were forced to corrupt their morals in response. Maurice Cole uses and manipulates others, using his prettiness to get what he wants, after being scammed out of a future by being the second to be born. We can only solve this murder if we let these people die.

This is one of the reasons why I view Sebastian and Ciel's relationship as being so fundamentally codependent. There's been a couple posts going around talking about this, but to say it again: Sebastian is everything to Ciel, in a very literal sense. He is the predator and monster lurking in the shadows, he is the doting butler lovingly brewing his tea and picking his clothes and tucking him into bed, he is the dog biting anyone who gets near him, the demon laughing at his pain, the wife picking the best furniture for the lounge. He saved him to kill him. He's got his father's face. They're no different from anybody else, but they can't be without each other either.

Maybe it's enough that they picked each other, and continue to pick one another, doubling down as they grow nearer and nearer to the decimation. Sebastian is grooming Ciel, growing and cultivating him, but in a dynamic under which he has little to no control. Ciel is a victim, a traumatized and abused child, using every scrap of power and knowledge he can get his hands on to order his pet monster who to kill. He never changes his goals, quite literally never grows up, but he gains strength and confidence and loyalty.

They are nothing, and everything. It makes sense, doesn't it?

[zkaus]

Why are so many obsessed with Armand?

I suspect that for many, it's because Armand is such an unusual and highly complex character. He's challenging.

A rare integration of sympathetic yet horrifying, violent yet passive, powerful yet pitiful, intoxicating yet repulsive. Resulting in one hell of a unique character!

Even more fascinating is that his motivations and choices, seem entirely hypocritical and self-defeating His behaviour reflecting his unstable sense of self, an identity both tumultuous and brittle. He admits to being entirely unable to perceive and define himself, outside the roles he was forced to perform. That he is painfully aware of his own instability and insufficiency of self, is absolutely fucking heartbreaking!

Armand's entire existence has been lived on unstable ground. He's only ever known abuse of power differentials and highly conditional forms of love. Everyone that commodified or objectified him, carved away pieces of his sense of self until there was nothing left. They abused, shattered and re-molded him. Again and again. And those who didn't commodify his body, used him in other ways (eg. to enforce their extremist dogma).

“Who am I, Louis? Am I my history I have endured? Am I the job I do not want? I do not know anymore. No one has painted me in over 400 years.”

Armand was never given the chance to develop a true sense of self, and the resulting desperation he feels is bitterly plaintive, sorrowful and yet incredibly damaging to others. His perceived reality is one of impending cruelty, loss of autonomy, and inevitable abuse or abandonment. Where his identity is defined as either the dogmatic leader encumbered by rules he must enforce, or to be ruled over by another.

"If I’m not with him, I’m nothing.”

He's terrified of being alone, unmoored from another, because he doesn't know who he is without them. So Armand claws for affection and direction from those he perceives as a possible Master. Seemingly willingly relinquishing his leadership role... While still defensively scheming to retain power, and desperately clinging to the security of his own manipulations. While trying to shape an identity around the roles others (willingly and unwilling) create for him, but...

Who is Armand really?

Who is he apart from the roles others have assigned to him? It's a fascinating question.

From parents who sold him, to cruel sailors using his body for their pleasure, brothel owners further abusing him, to being purchased by a predator. A Master who gave him to others to abuse yet again, who cultivated undeserved adoration and dependency. A child's innocence, so destroyed, his entire identity shattered. Again and again. The slave child, the prostitute, the adoring apprentice, the cult leader, the Maîtré, the companion of Louis? Who is he as an individual?

He doesn't know. And that terrifies him.

I can't help but feel that if only someone, anyone had actually loved him (had taught him how love should be) he might have had a chance, might have become a better person.

Instead, he became a man scared and brutalized, now brutalizing others. Forced into enacting laws and beliefs which were not his own, forced into filth and worship of satan, in the service of an uncaring god. And when that was taken away, his cult shattered, his identity shattered. He fell back to the role of dogmatic leader.

Arun > Amadeo > Armand > Maître > ?

I've read the books, so I know that version of him very well. But the show version is even more complex in many ways, he has different layers to his story, and psychological nuances to unpack. And so many questions and possible directions for his character...

Who will he become now he has turned Daniel? What are his true reasons for first sacrificing, then saving Louis? What role did he play in the destruction of the Coven? How is Daniel so special to him that he would break his 500 year old vow? What does he want from Daniel now? Do they have a history together beyond San Francisco? How far will he go? Can he ever love anyone without maiming them? Physically and/or psychologically? What does love mean for him now that he has turned Daniel? Etc etc...

That's why he's so fascinating!!

[bittersuitejacobs]

• an unhealthy obsession •

{Nate Jacobs/Original Character}

Ophelia is no stranger to wanting. For most of her life it's all she'd been allowed to do, trapped on the outside looking in, window shopping for normal experiences. Ophelia is also no stranger to obsession. Books, movies, TV shows; a terribly ill child who never even had the chance to make a real friend, she took what she could from fiction. All she'd ever wanted growing up, the thing she obsessed over, was someone who could save her, from her life, from herself. Someone who could make her feel alive.

So when her attention is caught by a beautiful, awful boy with a saviour complex, Ophelia vows not to remain a stranger to him either, no matter the cost.

Ophelia may no longer need to be saved, but Nate Jacobs makes her feel so damn alive, so she will turn herself into the kind of girl he wants, needs, and obsesses over too.

• in which Ophelia and Nate are somehow not the worst things to ever happen to each other. •

Warnings: Explicit Smut, Mutual Obsession, Stalking, Manipulative Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Infidelity/Cheating, Drinking, Violence, Non-Consensual Drug Use & Sexual Assault, Childhood Parental Abuse (Medical/Psychological/Emotional). Chapters will contain specific warnings.

{ fic playlist }

+ IN PROGRESS +

[ Season One ]

1. spectacle

2. the slate cleaned

3. knight in shining armour

4. according to plan

5. unexpected ink

6. daddy's angel

7. a week of turtlenecks

8. like and subscribe

9. dirty little secret

10. praise kink

11. deja vu

12. little black dress

13. fight flight fawn freeze

14. the aftermath of violence

15. boot theory

16. i quite enjoy ruining your day

17. mutually assured destruction

18. detriments of the modern age

19. justly serv'd

20. sanctuary

21. paper stars

[ Season Two ]

22. resolutions

23. bpm

+ ...

[ Alternate Universe ]

cool for the summer

Nate's been best friends with Lee Chase for as long as he can remember, and Lee's little sister Ophelia has always been... there. The best thing about her is how easy she is to ignore.

But everything changes between them when Lee and his dad go to Fiji for the Summer before their Junior year, and Nate and Lee's moms decide to spend that time holidaying together up the coast, taking the rest of their children with them.

So now, much to Nate's chagrin, he's forced to share a bed with his best friend's sixteen year old sister, who he's barely even had a full conversation with before in his life. But he quickly realises that she's bolder than he gave her credit for. Maybe it's a good thing her brother's on the other side of the world.

Warnings: Explicit Smut, Possessive Behaviour, Underage Drinking, Ongoing Parental Neglect/Emotional Abuse, Compulsive Over exercising as a Form of Self Harm, Mental Healthy & Unreality Struggles. Chapters will contain specific warnings.

1. Reintroduce

2. Reinvent

3. Recontextualise

4. Reconfigure

5. Realise

6. Revitalise

7. Reiterate

8. Reconnect

9. Restring

+ ...

Posting of completed chapters for the main fic will begin in the next few days.

Posting of the AU will begin after Chapter 10 of the main fic and will alternate.

THE TAGLIST IS ALWAYS OPEN !

(just message or comment to be added; I'll add you to the taglist for both unless you let me know you only wanna be tagged for updates from one)

[ienjoybeingahater]

Dean Winchester is the open wound in the body that is Supernatural. He is an infection that spreads until it poisons everything around him, no matter if It's a person or a plotline.

At first, he was just annoying and borderline abusive, something that could be explained by his upbringing, that could’ve been explored. There was potential for him to grow, to evolve beyond the toxic traits he inherited from John, to show that people can get better, that your upbringing didn't define you and for a bit, it seemed like he might. But as soon as he showed signs of becoming better, he ripped off the scab of progress and let the wound fester instead. Season after season, rather than improving, he got worse, getting more selfish, hypocritical, and abusive. Instead of healing, he became the rot at the show’s core.

The infection spread beyond just his character however, it consumed the entire narrative. Everything began to revolve around what Dean wanted, how Dean felt, and what Dean needed. The other characters stopped being people with their own agency and instead became tools, existing to serve and cater to his every whim. The story bent itself around him, sacrificing logic, depth, and complexity in favor of ensuring that Dean never had to face real consequences. It ruined the show’s potential. Instead of telling a story about how a bond like Sam and Dean’s (or even Dean’s relationships with Cas, Charlie, etc.) could help someone grow into a better person, they doubled down on Dean’s worst tendencies. Instead of evolving, he dragged everyone else down with him.

One example of how Dean’s toxicity didn’t just warp the narrative but completely destroyed a character is Castiel. Castiel represented something meaningful at the start: the idea that humanity, despite all its flaws, was still worth fighting for and that people can change and form their own opinions even though they've been controlled and manipulated before. He was proof that even among corruption and destruction, there was goodness that made it all worthwhile, that people can forge their own path if they believe in something and act upon said belief.

But, once the writers started throwing rotting breadcrumbs at the Destiel shippers, they stripped Castiel of his character and made everything about Dean. Instead of being a character with his own beliefs, struggles, and development, he was reduced to nothing more than an extension of Dean, an accessory whose only purpose was to suffer for him. And what did Dean do in return? Nothing good. He never treated Castiel as an equal. He constantly belittled and ridiculed him, acting as though Castiel’s sacrifices were either expected or irrelevant.

Castiel went from breaking free of heaven’s control, from questioning blind obedience and learning to think for himself, to willingly throwing himself into another toxic, one-sided dynamic where his needs and wants didn’t matter. He lost everything, his family, his power, his home, his life, and for what? Are we supposed to find it meaningful that Castiel’s entire existence was reduced to a last-minute, half-baked confession that Dean didn’t even acknowledge? That his death scene was brushed aside with no real grief, no impact, no weight? He deserved better than that but the writers decided it would be a good idea to have Castiel’s story amount to nothing. In the end, he was nothing but a footnote in Dean’s narrative, something that mattered for a few minutes before it lost its relevance.

But if Castiel was collateral damage in Dean’s story, Sam was the biggest victim.

From the very beginning, Sam had potential, potential for something beyond hunting, beyond the endless cycle of death and violence that consumed their lives. He had dreams, ambitions, and a future that should have been his. And every step of the way, Dean was there to tear him down. Long before the show even started, Dean was already keeping Sam small, making sure he never realized that he deserved more than a life of blood and misery. Dean wanted Sam trapped in hunting, dependent on him, tied to him forever and that pattern never changed.

He is obsessive and possessive, acting less like a brother and more like an overbearing owner who refuses to let Sam have any independence. The second Sam does anything without telling him, whether it's texting someone, making his own choices, or simply not answering a call, Dean immediately acts like Sam just opened Pandora's Box. He treats Sam’s autonomy as a threat, as if the moment he isn't constantly under surveillance, the world will fall apart.

But he's not just abusive he's also incapable of accepting his mistakes considering that Dean becomes aggressive and defensive as soon as they get brought up. Examples include breaking the first seal which was 'understandable because he got tortured', tricking Sam into getting possessed which was 'something he needed to do because he didn't want Sam to die' (no matter how much Sam wanted to), and locking Sam in the panic room to die because he'd "at least die human". Still, he never hesitates to throw Sam’s mistakes back in his face. Sam is never allowed to forget drinking demon blood, never allowed to forget trusting Ruby, even though she preyed on his vulnerability and caused his addiction to manipulate him. Dean also holds him responsible for being Lucifer’s vessel, even though that was quite literally decided by God. And yet, when Dean makes mistakes suddenly it’s not his fault, and everyone just needs to move on because they all made mistakes (especially Sam, apparently).

But Dean’s hypocrisy doesn’t stop there, oh no. Because when Sam was blamed for "freeing Lucifer," by mistake he alone was expected to fix it, but when Castiel knowingly freed Lucifer suddenly all of them needed to take care of it. The double standard is obvious and tells us the following: Dean plays favorites when it suits him, and when it doesn’t, he shifts the blame onto whoever is most convenient which more often than not, means Sam is getting blamed.

And yet, despite treating Sam like a scapegoat, he also treats him like a trophy, a possession, something he has complete control over. He needs to know where Sam is, who he's talking to, and what he's doing or he'll pretend like the world is ending.

But he doesn’t just control Sam, he's not just hypocritical and abusive, he also sabotages his storylines at every turn. I'm saying that because every time Sam had an interesting plotline, something that could have made the show richer and more compelling, something that could've made Sam stronger, Dean was there to ruin it.

Sam's demon blood arc? Reduced to a mistake Dean never let him forget about, rather than the complex story about addiction and manipulation that it could have been. Not to mention the fact that even before Ruby used Sam's grief to get him addicted Dean judged Sam for having the blood inside him in the first place; as if it was his fault Mary made that deal, as if Sam could have stopped yellow eyes as an infant.

Sam as the Boy King of Hell? Dropped without explanation and never picked up again (until years later for one minute that is). I personally think they dropped that particular arc because Dean would have been insufferable towards Sam during it which they couldn't do considering 'Dean is such a cool guy'. It was the same with Sam being psychic: Dean would never accept the fact his brother wasn't what he wanted him to be so the plotline was scrapped.

Sam's hell trauma? No need to explore it or show the lasting effects because Dean would be sad if Sam wasn't perfectly fine after his mangled soul got forced back into his body (by Dean, mind you).

Sam being suicidal? Why explore that if you can do other, more interesting things with Dean instead?

Even Sam’s relationship with Jack was downplayed. The parallels between Sam and Jack alone make it obvious that the relationship between the two of them should have been the focus of Jack’s introductory season. Sam, who spent his life struggling under the weight of what he was supposed to be, who was told time and time again that he was dangerous, that his powers made him evil, was the perfect person to guide Jack through the same struggles. But that wasn’t explored. The fact that Sam was raising the child of the man who abused and controlled him, the child of the being that essentially destroyed Sam's life and psyche even though he was probably scared to death every time he saw Jack wasn't explored either.

Jack’s entire story should have revolved around his relationship with Sam, the person who treated him with kindness, and who tried to help him even though his father was, like I said, the being who abused him for centuries. Their relationship should have been so much more but it wasn’t and why?

Because they needed to shove Dean into Jack’s story instead. Even though Sam was the one who treated him with kindness, who defended him, and who saw him as more than just a weapon, the writers made sure to include forced bonding scenes between Dean and Jack so that they could pretend Dean had always been the father figure. I'm sure they did that so Destihellers and the writers could pretend Cas and Dean were Jack's parents even though everyone who watched the show should know that isn't true no matter how much certain people might want it to be.

Alone the fact that Dean threatened to kill Jack should make that obvious.

The sad thing about all of this is that Sam was supposed to be the main character but when fans decided Dean was cooler, the writers catered to them instead of telling a story about the person that's objectively more interesting.

So in conclusion, Dean Winchester wasn’t just a toxic character; he was an infection that spread through the entire show, warping the story, ruining the characters, and dragging Supernatural down with him. Every plotline, every relationship, every moment of potential was sacrificed so that he could remain the center of attention. The show could have been so much more, but instead, it chose to revolve around the worst thing in it: Dean.

(I will make separate posts about Sam and Castiel as well)

Side note: I wrote this at 3 a.m. because I couldn't sleep and saw people waxing poetry about Dean on Twitter.

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

William Afton isn’t just some mindless, constantly-angry killer who’d murder you for fun. That interpretation misses so much of what actually makes him dangerous, fascinating, and frustratingly complex.

1. He’s Not Just a Murder Machine—He’s Calculated

William isn’t impulsive when it comes to violence. If he ever hurts someone, there’s a reason behind it. It’s methodical, not just some blind fit of rage.

He’s more likely to study you, understand you, get inside your head first. If he does anything, it’s deliberate.

People think he’d instantly kill someone for being annoying, but honestly? He’d probably just toy with them instead, just to see how much he can make them squirm.

Obsessive & Perfectionist: He’s the type who gets hyper-focused on his work or personal ambitions, sometimes to an unhealthy degree. This perfectionism can make him impatient, but he expresses it in subtle ways (lip biting, tapping fingers, slight fidgets).

Calculated & Manipulative: He knows how to act around people to get what he wants. He can be charismatic, even likable, but there’s always an ulterior motive behind his actions.

Theatrical & Expressive: He has a dramatic flair, enjoying control over situations like a director in a play. He loves to monologue, exaggerate, and sometimes even make light of serious situations with a dry, unsettling sense of humor.

2. He’s Morbidly Curious—And He Loves Oddities

You have weird habits? Strange fascinations? A bizarre way of thinking?

He’d find it fascinating.

He doesn’t judge—it intrigues him. He’d probably even encourage it, just to see what happens.

He enjoys things that break the norm, just like he does.

I imagine if you ever said something wildly strange or dark, he’d just grin, tilt his head, and go: “Oh? Now that’s interesting… Tell me more, love.”

3. He’s Got a Temper—But It’s Not 24/7

Cold but Not Emotionless: He’s not constantly angry, that's exhausting but he does have a temper—it's just more restrained. He won’t throw screaming fits, but when he does get mad, his words become sharper, his tone lowers, and his presence becomes suffocating.

When he does get angry? It’s controlled—the kind of anger that’s low, quiet, and dangerous.

The kind that freezes the air rather than erupts.

He wouldn’t yell like some unhinged lunatic. He’d just go dead silent and look at you like he’s considering what to do next.

But also? He moves on quickly—he doesn’t waste energy on useless outbursts.

He doesn’t lash out like a wild animal—he makes it hurt where it matters most.

In The Fourth Closet, when he pushes Elizabeth, it’s not just random anger—he’s frustrated because she’s challenging his patient, and in his mind, she’s supposed to be obedient. It’s a very controlled reaction, not a wild fit of rage. That moment highlights an important part of his character—he’s obsessively driven by his projects, often to the point of neglecting or dismissing others, even his own daughter. Similarly, in the FNAF Movie, when he yells at Vanessa, it’s because she failed at something important to his plans. He’s not just shouting for the sake of being loud—he’s expressing his displeasure in a way meant to intimidate.

(I dont justify his actions at all, please don't misunderstand what I just said.. Emotional neglect, dismissiveness, and outright physical aggression (like pushing Elizabeth) are absolutely forms of abuse. Just because William isn’t constantly yelling or physically violent doesn’t mean he isn’t abusive in his own way. I think what makes his character unsettling isn’t just the moments where he lashes out, but the neglect itself. A parent who consistently ignores their child’s attempts for attention, especially in favor of work, causes deep emotional damage. Elizabeth clearly looks up to him and desperately wants his approval, but he doesn’t even acknowledge her efforts. That kind of neglect can be just as harmful as verbal or physical abuse because it makes the child feel invisible, unworthy, or only valuable when they serve a purpose (which is sadly what happens with Elizabeth, since she later tries to prove herself in a way that leads to her death). So no, his actions aren’t justified. His obsession with his work and his cold, dismissive nature don’t excuse the way he treats his children. It’s just that I don’t see him as an over-the-top, constantly raging person—I see him as someone whose form of abuse is more quiet, neglectful, and manipulative, only resorting to physical aggression when his control is challenged.)

This actually reinforces my view of him: he’s not someone who yells all the time, but when he does, it’s deliberate, meant to assert dominance and control. He’s usually calm, but when things don’t go his way, that controlled façade cracks just enough to show his true nature.

So, while he can be harsh or even physically aggressive, I don’t think it defines his entire personality. It’s just another tool he uses when he deems it necessary.

4. He’s Not Some Slobbering Creep—He’s Playful & Sharp

The way some people make him a gross, weird, breathing-down-your-neck type of creep is so off.

No, no—William is suave, smooth, and dangerously charming.

He’s the kind of guy who’d say something suggestive just to see you react, then laugh if you get flustered.

If he does make you uncomfortable, it’s probably because he enjoys watching you squirm in a way that’s more of a game than a threat.

He’s not crude or sloppy—he’s theatrical. If he’s messing with you, it’s got style.

5. If He’s Attached to You, You’re in Trouble (But Not the Way You Think)

If he actually cares about you? That’s where things get interesting.

If you do something unexpected, something that no one else does—say, staring into his eyes without fear or responding to his darker nature with curiosity rather than horror—he pauses.

That’s when the game changes.

He wouldn’t just discard you like nothing. He’s possessive, protective in his own twisted way.

If he ever threatened you, it’d be more like: “Oh, darling… do you really think I’d ever let you go? Now that’s adorable.”

He’s not reckless with people he values—he wants to keep them. And keeping someone means keeping them safe.

6. If You See Him—Truly See Him…

This is rare.

Most people see the mask, the charming businessman, the clever engineer, or the cold killer.

But if you look at him and acknowledge all of it—the brilliance, the obsession, the monstrosity—and don’t shrink away?

He won’t know whether to be amused, impressed, or unnerved.

7. Detached from Empathy but Not Without Affection

I don’t see him as someone completely incapable of forming attachments, but his way of caring is… unconventional. He values intelligence, loyalty, and those who intrigue him. If he ever gets attached, it’s more out of fascination than traditional love.

Mannerisms & Speech:

He has a very controlled, deliberate way of speaking, rarely raising his voice unless absolutely necessary.

He enjoys wordplay, sarcasm, and theatrical gestures, sometimes speaking as if he’s on a stage.

When amused or intrigued, he bites his lip or taps his fingers—small tells that betray his emotions.

His anger is quiet, slow-building, and venomous, rather than loud and explosive.

He’s a Man of Control, Not Chaos

A lot of portrayals of William Afton make him overly aggressive, constantly angry, or even abusive shit the fuck out of the reader for no reason (no, but seriously, some things are ridiculously unreasonable????), which doesn’t make sense for his character. The same goes for making him ridiculously flirty to the point of being creepy or writing him as someone who randomly snaps between extreme moods like he’s bipolar.

While William is definitely a complex character with a dark side, he’s also highly intelligent, manipulative, and calculated. He wouldn’t just scream at people 24/7 or lash out for no reason—that's out of character. If anything, he’s more of a controlled, strategic person who hides his true intentions well. If he does get angry, it would likely be in a more subtle, terrifying way rather than constant outbursts.

I personally think his character is more interesting when he’s written with layers—someone who can be charismatic, eerie, and even charming in a way that makes people lower their guard. Making him one-dimensional (either just rage-filled or over-the-top flirty) takes away from his depth.

The scariest thing about William isn’t that he’s loud or violent, but that he’s unpredictable, eerily patient, and always watching. He’s not someone who wastes energy on constant outbursts—he calculates, waits, and acts only when necessary.

Some people write him as this chaotic, rabid, constantly-violent monster. But really? He’s a man of control.

Control over himself.

Control over others.

Control over whatever twisted goals he’s pursuing.

And that’s what makes him terrifying—because he knows exactly what he’s doing.

William Afton doesn’t just seek fear. He seeks power. And sometimes, the most intoxicating power is the control of someone who refuses to break.

If you stand before him, unafraid? If you play his game with equal cunning?

Then he might just fall into his own trap.

[tealmagicmoon]

I wanna talk about Puppet and Eclispe’s abusive friendship because it IS abusive.

These two hot messes trigger watchers defence mechanisms constantly.

Let take their main unhealthy coping strategies shall we.

Eclipse:

Self-isolation (both physically removing himself from people, relationships and situations as well as emotional removing himself from a situation)

Defensiveness (being a dickhead so he can either get more control over a situation usually in the form of makings people uncomfortable or self-conscious.

Puppet:

Self-deprecation (talking bad about herself to elicit sympathy from others so she doesn’t have to address the issue at hand and can make others do it for her)

Saviour complex which she uses Manipulation tactics to get what she wants.

They get each other stuck in negative loops a LOT. In practically every episode Eclipse Isolates himself which triggers puppets saviour complex so she uses manipulation usually glass lighting and guilt ripping with a slide of humiliation. This triggers Eclipses defensiveness which then triggers Puppers self-deprecation which makes Eclipse to feel bad so he get even more defensive and the loop continues.

Another example is from the resent episode:

Puppet’s self-depreciation, suicidal thoughts and her phrasing mades Eclipse’s feel guilty and took him by surprise which triggered Eclispe’s defensiveness. Eclipse being rude to her then triggers her more which triggers eclipse more and we’re in a loop.

Their a mess your honour and I love it. Suck amazing writing I’m obsessed. <3

[hrizantemy]

me when i hear people defend feyre attacking the lady of autumn by saying she didn’t mean to/beron was her intended target: … how … how is that better?

like okay we all hate beron but he’s still a high lord, still someone you invited to form an alliance/negotiate with diplomatically. in a court where you are a guest might i add. you are a child they all saw practically naked two days ago, now playing house with a man (sorry, male) who willingly or otherwise tormented them for the better part of half a century .. because he gave you a pretty crown? how does one expect these old ass fae to not be condescending or reluctant? i’d have asked her to let the adults do the talking if she was piping in every two seconds telling me what to think and how to act.

the high lords’ meeting is my roman empire because it’s one of those instances where you have to let your jaw hit the floor because in what world - except one where sjm expects everyone to love her blorbo’s for all their correct opinions and positions - did any of that work?? with no consequences?? in fact they’re rewarded for their behaviour: tarquin rescinds the blood rubies, everyone’s chiming in about how they knew rhysand was the good guy all along, no one cares about the high lord who is why they’re all free rn (okay feyre broke the curse — tamlin’s curse. tamlin killed amarantha. he is why rhysand is free to rewrite history and the others have a future) i’m surprised there wasn’t a scene where the lady of autumn apologises to feyre for being in the way of her attack smh

This is one of the reasons I cannot like Feyre. The justification that she “didn’t mean to” attack the Lady of Autumn or that “Beron was her intended target” makes absolutely no sense and, frankly, makes the situation worse. How is it any better that her recklessness and inability to control her powers led to an innocent woman nearly being killed? The Lady of Autumn was already a victim of Beron’s abuse and violence, and Feyre—who should, of all people, understand the trauma of being hurt or manipulated by powerful individuals—just becomes another threat to her. How is that defensible in any way?

Even if Beron was her intended target, that doesn’t excuse the collateral damage of almost killing someone who was completely uninvolved in the fight. Feyre’s powers are vast, yes, but she constantly wields them with this mix of entitlement and carelessness that makes her more of a liability than a hero. It’s one thing to make mistakes; it’s another to make catastrophic ones and have people excuse them as if the consequences don’t matter.

And let’s be real—Feyre is never held accountable for these actions. The narrative either brushes it off or turns it into another moment for someone to coddle her and tell her how amazing she is. Meanwhile, the Lady of Autumn is left to fend for herself, as usual, trapped in her abusive marriage, and probably now terrified of Feyre as well. The complete lack of responsibility Feyre takes—or is made to take—for her actions is one of the biggest reasons I can’t root for her. She’s not a savior; she’s a wrecking ball with a savior complex.

The entire High Lords meeting was, without question, a complete disaster. It was supposed to be this grand gathering where the courts would come together to ally against Hybern, but instead, it devolved into petty squabbles, veiled insults, and outright hostility. Rhysand, for all his posturing as the most “progressive” High Lord, walked into the meeting with an attitude so smug it practically dared the others to disagree with him. Tamlin, true to form, took the bait and immediately turned the whole thing into a personal grievance fest. Beron was his usual insufferable self, Helion was flirting, and everyone else seemed more interested in holding grudges than actually saving the world.

Nobody trusted anyone, and honestly, who could blame them? These are the same people who’ve been at each other’s throats for centuries, and now they’re supposed to just shake hands and work together? Rhysand’s attempts at diplomacy mostly amounted to thinly veiled threats, Feyre’s speeches did little to inspire confidence. It was all spiraling into chaos.

And then came Nesta.

Nesta, who was barely even acknowledged as part of the delegation. Nesta, who didn’t care about politics, alliances, or playing nice. Nesta, who was so angry, so filled with righteous fury, that her words cut through the nonsense like a blade. When she stood up and spoke about what Hybern had done, about what they would do if the High Lords didn’t put aside their differences and act, she commanded the room. She didn’t appeal to their egos or try to manipulate them; she just told the truth in the most raw, unflinching way possible.

Her speech wasn’t about Rhysand’s court, or Tamlin’s grudges, or Beron’s smug indifference. It was about the people who would suffer and die if they didn’t unite. It was about the horrors she had witnessed and endured. It was about the cost of their pride and their inaction. And for the first time in the entire meeting, there was silence.

That speech was the turning point. It was the reason the High Lords agreed to set aside their centuries of animosity and work together. Not because of Feyre’s attempts to “inspire” them, not because of Rhysand’s threats, but because Nesta Archeron reminded them of what was at stake.

And here’s the kicker: even after she was the one who secured the alliances they needed, the credit still went elsewhere. Feyre, Rhysand, and their crew walked away looking like the saviors, while Nesta was left on the sidelines again. The meeting may have been a mess, but Nesta was the only reason it wasn’t an outright failure.

Bonus mention: My man Thesan was the only unproblematic one at that entire meeting. He showed up, minding his own business, probably thinking, “I am a healer, not a referee for this soap opera.” While everyone else was busy airing centuries of dirty laundry, Thesan was out here like, “So… about that war threatening all our lives?”

He didn’t come for the drama, didn’t throw unnecessary shade, and managed to keep his court from looking like an absolute circus. Honestly, if I were him, I would’ve been this close to kicking the entire Night Court delegation out.

If anyone deserved to walk out of that meeting with dignity, it was Thesan. The man probably, sat down with a glass of wine after, and said, “Never again.”