#cw cut mentioned

[lulublack90]

Prompt 26 - Suitor

@wolfstarmicrofic February 26, word count 315

Previous part First part

cw- cut mentioned

The full moon was soon upon them, and the edges of their little bubble soon began to ripple. 

Remus couldn’t help it. As the moon got closer to being full, his mood changed. He was grumpier and testier. He put a lot of it down to his joints aching and his tightened senses. He tried his best not to snap at Sirius or his friends, but sometimes, it all got on top of him. 

The night came, and they all crowded into the shrieking shack, waiting to change. 

Remus woke in the hospital wing wrapped up in blankets. Sirius sat close by, holding himself at an awkward angle. 

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked, a slight frown making its way onto his face. 

“Oh, nothing, just a bit sore,” Sirius replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Remus reached out and tugged his shirt up to reveal a long, thin scrape. Remus felt tears prickling his eyes. The bubble popped. 

“Some suitor I am. You should find someone who can look after you, Sirius.” He turned away and pulled the blankets up around his neck. 

Sirius got into the small bed behind Remus and wrapped his arms around him. 

“Idiot, you’re the only one I want. A tiny scratch like that isn’t going to stop me loving you.” Sirius kissed the top of Remus’s hair.  Remus spun in Sirius’s arms. 

“What did you just say?” 

“That you’re an idiot?” Sirius snickered, his face full of mischief. 

“No, the other part,” Remus said quietly. 

“Oh. The part where I said I love you?” His face softened into a sweet smile as he took Remus’s hand and brought it to his lips. 

“Yes,” Remus nodded, his voice breathy. 

“I love you, Remus.” Remus felt his heart skip a beat as he burrowed into Sirius’s arms. 

“I love you too.” He whispered as Sirius held him tight.  

Next part

[lil-lemon-snails]

"I can't ignore what's under dancefloor boards, The rhythm of my heart a dead-as-disco beat, But I still move my feet, to slip out of this groove, I'm free" ~ 2econd 2ight 2eer, Will Wood, The Normal Album

I have been plagued with visions of LDR Sun every time I listen to this song and I NEEDED to get this out of my system @spadillelicious when do we get to smooch the boy pLEASE

v textless version and close ups under cut!! v

[bonebabbles]

I keep starting and abandoning posts that go into my drafts, as I try to stay tasteful about how fucking revolted this part makes me. Like, I'm legitimately unsure if the very relevant trauma I have is making me see things that aren't here

But first we see that Star Flower is trying to ingratiate herself to the group, just after she reappears from chapter 5. Chapter 5 is about how Clear Sky is still abusive towards his son, and she comes in after stroking his ego, stressing how alone she is, and appealing to how she'll be loyal unlike his child. (She glances over at Thunder, directly implying this.)

Now in Chapter 9, she's babysitting and trying to care for Milkweed's kits (in spite of discomfort from Milkweed), taking a wet sleeping space away from the others, and pulling more than her own weight "without complaint." Putting herself through harsh sitations to prove her worth.

All while trying to appear extra attractive to Thunder, and later Clear Sky. Basically every man in power who can "protect her"

Like, am I going fucking crazy? With how we later find out that Star Flower was "promised as a mate" to One Eye's subordinate Slash, is... is that hypersexualization? One of the extremely stigmatized symptoms of sexual abuse?

She goes to find Clear Sky alone to throw herself at his paws, and he's very quickly attracted to how she promises to perfectly obey him, have no needs of her own, and finally be the perfect servant that he desires

"I don't deserve your trust because I am dirt. I understand you because I also regret something. I'd die for you. I'll never betray you unlike those who have."

This isn't manipulation. She means this. The story is playing their romance sincerely. She's comparing "betraying" Thunder by telling her own father about an assassination ambush to Clear Sky's history of child abuse, physical assault, and murder

She believes she's on the same level as this; a monster who murdered a childhood friend in a fit of entitled rage. She was a victim of One Eye who really believes that the way her father used her means she "understands" this monster, deserves this treatment.

And Clear Sky LIKES that.

He likes that she will have COMPLETE FAITH in him. That she will follow him WITHOUT QUESTION. That she will OBEY his orders. That's fucking verbatim, that's THE TEXT!!!

WHILE HE'S STILL CRYING ABOUT "ive tried to atone every day" FOLLOWING THE LAST TWO BOOKS WHERE THE ONLY SHITTY THING HE DOESN'T DO IS MURDER INNOCENT WOMEN

Am I insane?? Am I wrong??? Am I missing something here???? Why the fuck is the fandom takeaway "haha sexy girl steals his dad." Did I read the same book

[greenteaandtattoos]

Fearne is just always down to fuck, the kinkier the better and the more the merrier, and I can appreciate that.

Honestly, Bell's Hells has found themselves in quite a few sexual... situations and relationships, as brief or unexpected they were, and they all were pretty positive overall, in regards to showing healthy sexual interactions. I am really loving the constant sex, kink, queer, and poly rep and positivity.

In fact, it's not just active sexual situations, either. Just overall body positivity and comfort with each other, like when they all ran naked after Chetney's werewolf initiation and the porn skit ploy.

Sure, they were all on the fly and meant for fun, but they still showed how healthy and comfortable they all are with their bodies and each other's, including expressing a healthy respect for their boundaries and curiosities.

[florbelles]

CODEX ❧ síle cosantoir, la belle dame sans mercy. vol. ii. [template]

content warning for deaths, violence, and suicide.

The demise of the Cosantoirs is much speculated about; while first-hand accounts of at least some of it are available, they come exclusively from the surviving hired assassins, and thus their credibility is dubious at best. One thing can be known for certain: there was a plot to massacre the Cosantoirs, it was a hired job (not even the hirelings themselves can attest to their employer, though it is believed it was a group, not an individual, that conspired). The second surety is that the family somehow learned of the plot and chose to meet their fate at their own hands; it’s universally accepted that by the time the assassins arrived, everyone, family and servants alike, were dead. Most are believed to have been felled by Síle’s own infamous poison; others chose the blade. It is not definitive who slit their throats, but accounts state “[Síle] had blood up to her wrists and the Lord’s blades in her hand.” Most agree that it was a pact made with those who preferred death by blade to venom, and she was the appointed wielder for those who did not trust themselves to fall on their own; it’s believed she was then meant to turn it on herself, but either hesitated or changed her mind. She was the sole living inhabitant when the attackers arrived, “slaughter[ing] her way out,” and was evidently severely injured in her escape; one recalls “[his comrade] carved her pretty face in half.” Initial reports claimed her survival of her wounds unlikely.

Of what happened, she refused to speak even well after her return to society; when pressed, she would reply only “Everyone agrees. I killed them all.” It is unclear if she refers to carrying out their deaths or the widely held belief that she was to blame for the sentiments leading to the conspiracy against her family. It is possible she means both.

She was later tracked to a caravan of performers, among whom were her illegitimate cousin, Kieran Cadwell IV, and the bard Amara. She was imprisoned, charged with murder and suspicion of diplomatic treachery, assassinations, and subterfuge, the fate her family likely died to avoid; it was a fate she evaded nonetheless, as a fire broke out in the makeshift prison, only the charred remains of a woman with the singed remains of Síle’s attire and the family jewels on her person.

She vanished from all records for the following decade.

[fly-arrow]

Temenos: Throné, would you be a dear and make sure I'm not horribly murdered while I think for a moment?

[fenny-self-ships]

Hiiiiiiiii

Idk if you’re comfortable with hurt/comfort, but if you are I got a request for you! Lol

Basically, the idea is headcanons (or writing) of Jafar with an S/O that suffered SEVERE narcissistic abuse, and him quickly dealing just how much damage behaviors like his can cause. Like, he has to calm them down from a ptsd flashback, and they end up saying something about the “mind games” they were always playing, and how they were always on eggshells, and he’s basically over here like “ohhhh fuk…I do that kind of thing to people…”

Ooh some hurt comfort?? Coming right up 👀

I'm by no means an expert on this topic, so I'll stick with headcannons for now, but if you like 'em I'm more than open to writing a full imagine in future!!

Cracks my knuckles

Jafar with an abused S/O~!

Given the way he speaks, I wouldn't be surprised if it was something he said that triggered the unfortunate episode

A nasty, condescending comment about a hobby of yours, a hissing remark correcting your behaviour, or even deliberately misconstruing something you've said -- Incredibly self-serving, of course, but he's a master manipulator, and can very easily play the victim in even the tiniest arguments

Nothing could prepare him, however, for the sudden fit of anxiety and terror his words would induce

He is WOEFULLY uneducated on such things, and would regrettably have absolutely zero clue how to approach the situation -- He'd more than likely just freeze, simply staring down at you as you crumble

Once he's snapped out of his stupor, his first instinct would be to remove himself from the situation

He's clearly upset you, and he'd rather die than debase himself by admitting to his own wrongs. What a PATHETIC move that would be, huh?? (/sar)

Perhaps not the greatest instinct, but he'd give you time to cool off, to return to yourself, before slinking back in to discuss what caused your 'hysteria' (🙄🙄)

Likely with some warm tea to show in the smallest sense that he does actually CARE about you. It's not much, but it might be enough to get you talking

He would have fully intended to make a half-assed attempt at listening, followed by an empty promise to 'do better' and some kisses to top it off, but, in true Jafar fashion, his interest is piqued when you start describing the shit that he is oh so good at

The insufferable superiority complex, the 'do-no-wrong' mentality, the near constant mind games, manipulation and victimisation -- every single experience you describe he resonates with far too much

He hasn't had much experience with guilt, but you're his beloved. He cares about you. The sickly feeling creeps, resting heavier and heavier on his shoulders the more you manage to tell him

Truly an 'ohhhh fuck... I do that shit' moment if there ever was one

It's become second nature to him, almost a survival tactic -- not any excuse for his behaviour, of course, but he rarely gives a second thought to how awful the effects can be

He hates that it was you who had to tell him. He's supposed to be your biggest supporter, not your worst enemy

His illusion of perfection is shattered -- You aren't lucky to be with him, HE'S lucky you've put up with his disposition for as long as you have. He feels terrible.

All at once, you're wrapped up in a hug. Physical touch isn't his forte, but when you're as bad at apologies as he is, sometimes you have to compromise

This may be the first time you've ever heard a genuine 'sorry' from him

He will make an effort. Not to better himself as a whole, hell no, but to be better for you. The last thing he'd want to do is hurt you the way you've been hurt before. That'd be the WORST thing for his overinflated ego.

He's trying <3

[autistic-katara]

they should invent a therapist who’s easy to talk to and won’t put u in a mental hospital or tell ur parents if u say something concerning and won’t be condescending as hell

[byanyan]

me, a 30 y/o who has gradually grown more and more reclusive over the years, unable to hold a job for more than a month and unable to finish any schooling despite many attempts, who struggles immensely with social situations to the point of avoiding everything, has been misdiagnosed w/ bpd in the past, & been in treatment for depression & anxiety for nearly 2 decades atp: so i think i'm autistic

the psychiatrist i only got in to see after suffering a severe mental/emotional breakdown for the second time in my life: ok well most physicians don't do assessments for that anymore, you'd have to go private and pay around $5000 to find out

me: surprisedpikachu.jpg

[captainmera]

Just want to ask how art thou? Anything interesting happen recently, went to a park? Ate something good? Defeated an eldrich abomination? Ya know stuff a bit out of your lane

Honestly I'm as deep as a puddle and I'm about as interesting as a stick in the woods. I'm fun to hang out with, I think, but like.... Not a lot goes on personally.

My comfort language isn't food, either, so I have little desire to eat extravagantly or even try new things - it's all cardboard to me atm anyway. It's also too expensive. I need for little, so it's not a sorrow to me.

If I was a spice, I'd be oatmeal with raisins and nuts.

so yeah, nah, not a lot happens. Haha..!

But I am doing okay! :D Can't do more than your best with what the day has given ya, eh? ;D Gotta stay optimistic and resourceful, y'know! The responsible thing is to try to not make a bad situation worse, in my opinion...! Haha! The situationTM being, like, mental health stuff. Ya gotta put effort into self-love.

... Says I, who compared myself to a puddle and oatmeal.....

BUT AT LEAST I AM SOMEWHAT SELF-AWARE.

Alright I'm more like.... Canned tuna with yogurt, fries with dip on the side, kinda guy.

[highwaywhump]

Surgery, part 2

This is a series! Masterlist is here and the first part of the surgery arc is here

so i lied, i rewrote the second part and the whole thing is now closer to 4.5k. enjoy

TW/CW: former pet whumpee/extremely conditioned and dehumanized whumpee having a panic attack, being forcibly 'restrained' (by caretaker!) during said attack, and forcibly drugged with a needle/syringe. brief scar mention, blood mention, very brief description of a cut. discussion of professional misconduct i guess.

--

Aaron stops dead in his tracks in the doorway. At first, he can’t even see Joey - all he sees is Becca, the red-haired nurse who had helped them get Joey’s x-rays, handpicked by Dr. Perez. She’s clutching her arm, blood trickling out between her fingers. Next to her are two more nurses, both tall, broad men, unknown to Aaron. He can’t see Joey at first, all he can see are the three people, two too many, the red blood staining Becca’s scrubs, and a puddle of water and broken glass on the floor. 

And all he can hear is Joey’s desperate sobs and Becca’s voice, trying to communicate something to the two other nurses, who are focused on something behind the bed. 

Aaron doesn’t think, he just acts. In three steps he’s in front of the two nurses, blocking their path, and finally, there’s Joey. He’s all curled up and has tucked himself into the corner formed by the bed and the wall, his skinny arms wrapped around his head, his whole form shaking as he incoherently begs and pleads. Something about being good and behaving and please don’t drug him. 

“We’ve got it,” one of the male nurses says and attempts to move past Aaron, but he holds up a hand, blocking them. “No,” he says with determination, knowing that a pair of huge and institutionally dressed men is the least thing Joey needs right now. 

“No, I’ll take care of him. Help your colleague in the meantime,” he says, if only to stop the two of them closing in like predators. They’ve stances like rugby players, slightly bent at the knees and with their arms out to the side, ready to pounce. Even Aaron, who is perfectly healthy and capable of rational cognition right now, is a little intimidated by them. 

“He should be sedated,” one of them says. “We need to administer pre-op medications,” the other chimes in, pointing to an IV bag laying on the bed, and the pieces fall into place in Aaron’s head. The broken glass of water, Becca who was supposed to be the one administering the medications but who now was bleeding from what looks like a gash in her arm, one of the male nurses who’d dashed past him in the hallway. 

He could see it all playing out. Becca coming in with the IV bag, maybe saying something about medication, reaching for Joey’s arm with the needle in her hand. Joey, still holding his glass of water, already worked up and on edge, losing it at the sight of the needle. Defending himself, in his own hazy, red rimmed eyes. 

And now, having worked himself up, not thinking rationally. Not thinking at all. Panicking because he had defied orders, or hurt someone, or broken a glass. It wasn’t good to say.

“I’ll-” Aaron pauses and breathes out, taking a step backwards from the nurses, towards Joey. “I’ll calm him down, okay? He needs someone he knows. Not…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, only moves his gaze between the two men. 

They seem reluctant. They probably have a responsibility here, handling patients who act out. Only, Joey isn’t acting out. He is just scared, and a pet, and Aaron isn’t sure how much the men know about the situation. Or what they’re even thinking, taking all of Joey’s scars into consideration. It’s as if they’re peaking out everywhere now that he only wears the patient gown. 

“He really needs sedation, for his own safety,” one nurse states. Aaron discerns the unspoken for our safety in his voice. 

For a moment, he considers arguing. He doesn’t want to force anything on Joey that isn’t strictly necessary. Aaron is his advocate and breaching his trust like that while he’s in this state, forcing him to take a needle he clearly doesn’t want, would be traitorous. 

Then again… he weighs the other outcome. Whatever these two nurses think is going on, he can’t let it extend past the patient is unwilling to comply, into the patient isn’t supposed to be here, patient is a pet, patient needs police pick-up. As well as the fact that he could never make Joey come back here after today, even if he managed to reschedule the surgery. It would be like taking a victim back to a crime scene, making them relive the trauma all over again. 

Maybe sedation is for the best. 

“Let me hold him, at least,” Aaron tries. “He can’t handle… this, right now. Give us a minute. I’ll help you.”

They hesitate, but back off, one of them turning to help Becca while the other stands by, looking warily at Joey. Still, he keeps his distance. Aaron exhales and turns around, crouching down in front of Joey. In front of his ward, his responsibility. Christ, everything here is his responsibility. Becca’s injury, too. Does this clinic have a pediatric program or some other heartwrenching project? He’ll donate. 

“Joey?” he ventures, not sure if he can even hear him over his own cries. Okay. Deep breath. 

“Joey, it’s me. Hey, little one.” He goes from crouch to kneel when his knees start protesting, moving as close to the boy as he can. Gently, he reaches out and touches Joey’s shoulder. He flinches violently and his sobs intensify. “Please don’t, please, please, I’ll be good, I’ll be still, please,” he whimpers, over and over again. Aaron hopes the nurses can’t make out the words.

He’s all curled up, tucked into himself as best as he can, trying to disappear. All the while, he’s sobbing and begging desperately, completely gone in his own head. Aaron realizes he can’t talk him down from this quickly enough tonight. They’re on a schedule, and the nurses are growing uneasy. 

He’ll just have to take the plunge. 

“It’s okay,” he mutters as he leans forward and envelops Joey’s bony frame and hugs him close, as tightly as he thinks he can handle. He is petrified, his whole body tight and stiff, and he lets out a scared and confused wail as he’s pulled into the tight embrace.  

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Aaron continues, both to himself and to Joey, as he finds the back of his head and tucks into the crook of his own neck, hoping to provide some semblance of warmth and safety for what he has to do next. 

With his other hand he finds Joey’s, squeezing his fingers to see if he gets a response, if they might be able to communicate nonverbally like that. A squeeze means I’m here, I’m listening, trust me. When Joey is too shaken up to speak to him, he’s usually able to at least squeeze back. 

Not now, though. Joey’s fingers are curled up into a hard little fist. Aaron sighs and hugs him tighter, mumbling apologies into his hair as he clasps his wrist and pulls it away from them, extending it towards the nurses. He watches through the corner of his eye as one of them removes a sterile cannula from its packet and takes hold of Joey’s hand.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Aaron mumbles as Joey whines when he feels the foreign touch. His face is still hidden in his sweater. He pushes even closer and Aaron can feel him trying to pull his hand back, out of his and the nurse’s grip. It catches him off guard - Joey has never, ever opposed anything Aaron has ever said or done. This is completely novel.

“Please don’t do it,” he sniffles into Aaron’s sweater. “Please don’t, don’t make me, I don’t want to, please,” he repeats, over and over, and it breaks Aaron’s heart, forcibly holding his hand away from his body like this, holding him still. 

A part of him lights up with the thought that he still has some semblance of volition. Everything wasn’t beaten out of him. At the same time, right now, Aaron has to disregard it. He has to hold him still and force him to endure it as the nurse feels around for a vein. “Small pinch, now,” he says, as he pushes the cannula through his skin. 

This is all Aaron’s fault. If he hadn’t left the room, if he had been there when Becca came in, they could’ve worked it out together, undramatically. This whole episode could’ve been avoided. Surely, all traces of trust between them must be gone by now. 

Joey moans, in pain or desperation or maybe both, as the nurse attaches the tubing and picks up the saline bag, hanging it on its stand. He collapses in Aaron’s arms. Still, Aaron doesn’t let go, keeping him close. “You’re okay, it’s okay,” he repeats, over and over again, hoping some of it reaches past the walls built up inside Joey’s mind. The nurse picks up a syringe and pushes its contents into the injection port of the IV tube. Then, he, Becca, and the other nurse leave the room. 

They sit like that for what feels like an eternity. Joey calms down after a while, now leaning heavily into Aaron. His shoulders flinch from time to time, but he’s stopped crying quite as audibly as he did. 

Aaron guesses this is the result of the sedation. It was normal, right? Giving a weak sedative before a surgery, just to calm any nerves? Had Becca brought in the sedatives as well as the IV bag or had the male nurses brought it when they heard the commotion? He wonders how much the two of them know. None of them were supposed to be here, he thinks. What did they think had happened? Who did they think Joey was? 

He glances to the side, where he still holds Joey’s wrist. Gently, he angles it - and there it is, the ugly barcode tattoo. His blood runs cold. He didn’t think that far when he took Joey’s wrist to hold it out for the nurses. Did they see it? If they did, had they cleaned up Becca’s sliced up arm and then gone to call the police after? 

He’s left no time to ponder or worry any longer as the door opens and Dr. Perez enters. She seems unfazed by the sight that meets her - blood and crushed glass that hadn’t been cleaned up yet, and the two of them sitting in a corner. Somebody must’ve informed her.  

“Are you okay?” She rounds the bed and crouches down in front of them. “Becca told me what happened.

“I think so,” Aaron answers, gently shifting Joey to get a look of his face. He’s drowsy and heavy in his arms, his eyes puffy and red rimmed as he blinks them open and tries to focus. Aaron smiles at him. “Hey, you,” he mutters softly, pushing his hair away from his face. 

“I hope he’s still up for the surgery,” Dr. Perez says, eyeing the IV bag to see how much of the liquid inside has been reduced. “What happened was… I won’t say normal, but it’s not unusual. We never know how they might react to what we do to them.”

Aaron nods. “Is Becca okay?” 

“She is. It looked worse than it was.” She looks over her shoulder, where the glass and blood still hasn’t been cleaned up. “Don’t worry. She knows that what she does for a living isn’t risk-free. And she knows that we don’t know what kind of trauma our patients carry with them. It’s nobody’s fault. Least of all his.” 

“I have to ask… do the other nurses know? The other two who were here.” 

She looks down. “They know about my situation, what I do. They don’t know about him, per say. They’ll probably make the connection, but I don’t think it will be a problem.”

Aaron’s eyebrows knit together, still not convinced. “How can you be sure?” 

She exhales in a puff, a slight chuckle, even. “Everyone in this industry knows somebody who knows somebody who does this sort of thing.” Illegal surgeries. The words are unspoken, but still clear as day. “I am far from the only one, believe me. If they didn’t like it, they would have quit and reported me a long time ago. And then they’d start working at the next hospital and have to do the same thing. There’s always someone.” She gives him a minute, knowing smile. “This country would run out of healthcare workers if they revoked every license from one who has treated a pet or ex-pet.”

Aaron doesn’t quite know what to say. He’s relieved “So… we’re good?” he asks eventually, for lack of better words. 

Dr. Perez nods. “We’re good. Now, let’s get going before the anaesthesiologist gets tired of waiting.” 

She helps him support Joey up to his feet and then to sit down on the bed. He’s swaying, gripping at the bedsheets to keep his balance, so Aaron gently guides him to lay down instead. He’s completely still, only breathing. His eyes are large and round as he finds Aaron hand, holding onto it with startling solidity. 

“Was… was I bad?” he whispers shakily. 

“No,” Aaron says immediately, not leaving it up for discussion. He doesn’t know what Joey knows, what he remembers of what had happened. Still, he won’t let Joey go around with doubts in his mind. 

His other hand finds Joey’s cheek, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. He leans into it, still keeping that intense eye contact. “No, sweetheart,” Aaron says, softer. “You weren’t bad. You were just scared.” In his head he adds It was my fault, I’m sorry, thinking the statement might be too much for him to make sense of now, in his delirious, drugged state. 

Joey dips his head slightly in what might be a nod. Aaron tries to smile at him. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go get that leg fixed up.” 

-

tags <3

@simplygrimly @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @briars7 @hackles-up @doveotions @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @kixngiggles @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpthisway @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumping-snail @pumpkin-spice-whump @pigeonwhumps

[bucketofchum]

Foster Bros AU Atumu gets a girlfriend at age 22-ish? Maybe older. Maybe 25. She's respectful so she hasn't tried to push his boundaries (he's still aroace but she's a nice person - one of the few nice people he has met in his life), so they haven't ever done anything beyond cuddling before. She's older than he is. A lot of emotional intelligence. More content with under the cut (lots of SA trigger warning)

I think this is after she had met Startop and Startop acts like a total dick bc he's jealous. Atumu tries to defend his foster brother for his behaviour. After all, Startop is the only other human being who has ever been kind to him and genuinely cared for him as a person.

Atumu casually alludes to some bad shit that happened, but he seems emotionally okay with it. Doesn't go into detail but he just mentions it. Like some bad shit happened, but it's bc he's got this deformed body. And Alice is like ?? Bc she has seen Atumu in basically his underwear and he looks fine to her. He looks FINE to her haha. Anyhow he shrugs it off like it's no biggie but she is actually curious. Will be tell her? They've been dating for, idk, like, 2 years now at this point? (Atumu doesn't really know what a relationship is so I guess he doesn't know how long they have been dating. He doesn't even know what dating is).

Atumu is intersex. He doesn't really know what it is, and he doesn't know much about it. But he knows there is something physically "wrong" with him, and that's probably why all the Bad Stuff happened. He has experienced REPEATED sexual assaults, in almost every stage of his life. Early childhood (before 8 years old - but he has no memory of that, age 12 at boarding school from a group of older boys - really fucking traumatic, age 15 when he went to a private university - first week getting drugged and date raped by a bunch of upperclassmen, and 15-18 all throughout his entire undergraduate experience just because he didn't understand boundaries and didn't KNOW he was allowed to say no). By the time he was 18, in his last year in university, he was so emotionally vacant and dissociative and had basically zero will to live. He said no for the first time in his life. And kept saying no. And hadn't had sex since.

Now, some 4-6 years later, it has been a while since he has had any sexual experiences and it's....nice. He has never wanted sex. He was already asexual before the sexual assaults, and afterwards...? He has a hard time distinguishing the difference between sex and rape. Because he has NEVER wanted it. It's all the same to him.

But the kind of tragic thing is that he has sort of internalized it to be...his fault? Like the REASON he was raped was bc of his body. He's got this fucked up body - that's why he was raped. That's why all those horrible things happened to him repeatedly. And this is what he gets for having a fucked up body.

Alice can't imagine what he's talking about since he's so fucking vague about it. He never told her about the rapes, but his vague ass language gave her some idea that he might have been SA'd. But deformed? She's seen almost all of him and the only thing that seemed strange, besides how tall and thin he is, were his large scars across his back. But he has already told her that he doesn't know what those are from (that happened before he was 8 years old, which he has no living memory of).

So she asks to see. Atumu still doesn't know why anyone would want to see his genitals. He thinks all genitals are kinda........ blegh. And his in particular are even more messed up. So he gives her a warning. She still wants to see.

He does eventually show her and.....it sort of all makes sense. Why he'd say that sort of thing. Why he'd think that. He has a penis, like normal - well, I mean not that normal cuz it's MmMmmm..hmmm we will just say more than proportional ... Hm okay no additional comment, but at the base of it, it connects to what looks like a fully formed vagina instead of a scrotum. It looks identical to any normal ciswoman's labia...just weirdly where the clit would be, Atumu instead has his penis. She has heard of "hermaphrodite" before but never knew it could be like this. (She'd spend the next few days furiously teaching herself about it on the internet).

Anyhow, in the moment, she asks if she can touch it. Atumu is uncomfortable, but he allows her to. She tries a bit, but based on Atumu's body language in response, she doesn't push it.

They don't mention it again for a while, but Alice thinks about it nonstop for like...the rest of her life.

[tompuppydog]

*casually has a meltdown where i hit my head against the wall cus i took a shower and having wet hair triggered my stupid sensory problems*

[garpond]

You'll wake up the morning after successfully riding out your worst suicidal urges in months and be like ok life to live moving on gotta go to my haircut. And then the haircut is so bad and amplifies your anxiety so much that u slide right back into believing that u really gotta do it this time

[flock-of-cassowaries]

January 6th levels of criminal conspiracy masterminding happening here.

My boss would approve of their willingness to turn on their webcam, though.

[townofcadence]

Artair your uncle has an accent. Why don't you? Do your parents have one?

"They did. But growing up in the states, I was bullied for it until I dropped it. Now it kind of just feels fake if I try."