#due to lying and mind/emotional manipulation

[annwrites]

exactly what he needs, pt. 2 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | pt 1 | pt3

— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)

— summary: you & nate hang out in your room (after he snoops through it right in front of you), then ask each other questions, & he dresses & does your hair before you head out to spend the evening together.

— tags: conversing, getting to know one another

— tw: sexualization, lying (nate manipulating the truth), dollification

— word count: 6.2k

— a/n: I edited this numerous times, but fucked myself over by writing part 1 in present-tense to begin with, which I'm not always great at. So, if I messed up the tenses anywhere, please ignore it. Going forward, I'll probably be publishing further installments in past-tense.

Next post will be reader & Nate going shopping & having dinner!

The next morning when you wake, it only takes a few minutes for you to remember that Nate will be there in a little less than an hour, and the nerves immediately set in.

Surely people will see you getting out of his truck. What will they think?

You shake your head. It doesn't matter. Not really, anyway. You don't much care what any one person of the student population thinks of you.

You know high school is just a blip—a very brief moment in time, where it seems like every little thing you experience can be the end of the world, but it's really all just the beginning.

People will think whatever they like. It's not your job to try and change their minds. Not that trying to do as much would work anyway.

Once you've quickly showered, dressed, pulled your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your way, and eaten breakfast, you don't even have time to wait by the door as Nate's truck pulls up. You quickly pull on a pair of boots and step outside, locking the door behind you.

When you look up, your stomach does a flip when you see Nate holding the passenger-side door open for you.

You walk over to him. "You don't have to get my door for me, you know."

He shrugs, taking your backpack from you, setting it in the backseat with his. "I want to."

You tell him thank you as you climb inside and he shuts the door behind you.

Once you're on the road, he's the first to break the silence. "You can listen to whatever you want on the radio."

In truth, it's a bit too early for music for you. "I'm ok."

"Did you eat already?"

You nod. "I had a bowl of cereal."

He gives a slight frown. Not a very healthy start to your day. Something full of sugar.

"Do you want me to pick you up something on the way?"

Your eyes go wide. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you, though. It's nice of you to offer."

He decides tomorrow he's bringing you breakfast, and he won't be asking for permission beforehand.

You're both silent again for a moment and the truck slows as he pulls up to a red light. He briefly wonders if you know how to drive. If not, he'd be a more than willing teacher.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you something personal. If you do, just tell me to fuck off and you don't have to answer."

You look at him. "Ok..."

The light turns green and the truck picks up speed again. "I noticed neither of your parents were home yesterday. Were they both at work?"

You grow quiet for a moment, a pregnant pause settling between the two of you as you look out the window at the passing houses.

"My dad was...is. He travels a lot for work, so he's not home much."

He nods, deeming it good news, at least for him. "And your mom?"

You're quiet for even longer this time. Then, "I've never met her."

Minus Lexi, you've already divulged more to him in that short sentence than you have to anyone else at East Highland.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He's not sure that he means it. He despises both of his parents and, if anything, in this moment, is envious of you, due to your lack of relationship with both of yours.

You shrug. "It's fine."

He wants more than just 'it's fine'. He wants to know more, as it's clear it's something which bothers you. He wants you to give him emotional vulnerability for just a moment. Something he can use in the future to work his way in closer to you.

"Do you know anything about her?"

You shake your head. "My dad refuses to talk about her. After a few fights when I was younger where I tried to get him to, I gave up. It's probably for the best. She made her choice, and I think me knowing anything about her would just make things...more difficult. My life, I mean."

Even if you still felt like you were chasing shadows sometimes.

He nods. If nothing else, it's one less person he'll have to go through to be with you. Two less, from the sound of things.

Finally, he turns into the school parking lot, taking his usual spot and he shuts the truck off.

"I'll get your door for you," he states before getting out.

You unbuckle yourself, not sure what to think of his insistence with the whole door thing. It just doesn't seem to be something men much concern themselves with anymore—getting a girl's door for her—at least not teenage boys, that is. But perhaps he's different. Maybe it's just the way he was raised.

Nate opens your door and grabs his backpack, sliding it over his shoulders, then grabbing yours as well.

You get out and go to take it from him, but he continues holding it.

"Turn around."

Your brows furrow for a moment, but do as he's asked. You quickly realize what he's doing and adjust your arms as he slides your bag onto your back. He's really going the extra mile to be a gentleman, you think.

Once the truck's doors are closed and he's locked the vehicle, he places his hand against the small of your back as you walk into school together.

You look perfectly calm on the outside, but on the inside, your anxiety levels are rising with each pair of eyes turning your and Nate's way.

When you spot Lexi, the look on her face is nothing short of bewildered. Next to her sits Cassie, who's fuming.

You're torn away from looking in their direction by Nate coming to stand in front of you. "See you in third period."

You nod and give him a small smile, going to sit with Lexi, despite Cassie giving you that same glare from yesterday. A worse one, really.

"What the hell was that?" Lexi asks, her tone full of concern as you sit down beside her, setting your bag on the table.

"Nothing. He just drove me to school, that's all."

"And home," Cassie says, voice full of malice.

Lexi looks from her sister, then back to you. "The two of you are not hooking up."

You flush. "No. He just gave me a ride, that's all."

"Ok, but why would he do that? The two of you never talk. You're not even friends."

You do your best to ignore Cassie's unsettling stare.

"I'm just—" You immediately shut your mouth. You should've thought further ahead, should've thought about what excuse you would give people when they inevitably ask why the two of you are hanging out all of a sudden.

Nate asked you to keep it a secret and you aren't about to betray his confidence. If you do, you're sure he'll fail and never bother asking for help again.

"Just what?" Lexi prods.

"We're just hanging out. It's not a big deal. I promise."

Suddenly, Cassie stands, angrily grabbing her bag, jerking it off the table and storming away.

Lexi rolls her eyes. "Just ignore her. I don't know why she's still hung up on him, anyway. He treated her like crap." She shifts in her seat, facing fully toward you now. "What I can believe even less, however, is the fact you're giving him the time of day. He's an asshole. He was abusive toward Maddy and wanted to keep screwing Cassie so long as she kept it a secret. He uses people, Y/N."

Abusive? You knew he and Maddy had argued quite a bit, but nothing that severe.

"What do you mean by abusive?"

She shrugs. "I don't know much, since she and Cassie obviously aren't friends anymore. But I know a good portion of it, at least, was emotional. Maybe verbal, too. Then again, I don't think she was any better." Lexi glances behind you, and you don't dare turn around, now worried the subject of your conversation is who she's looking at. "She gives as good as she gets."

Once the school day is over and you go to drop off your books at your locker, you find Nate leaning up against it.

He smiles when he sees you and you give him a shy smile in return.

You put your things away, then look to Nate.

In truth, what Lexi told you had gotten to you a bit. You try to tell yourself that it's all nothing more than hearsay, and you're only tutoring—not dating him—so whatever had occurred between he and Maddy and Cassie is none of your concern.

"You ready?"

You nod, and, just like this morning, he places his hand firmly against your back.

Once you're in his truck, you notice Maddy staring at you today, just a few cars away. She and Kat are both looking in your direction, Maddy clearly getting worked up and Kat obviously trying to calm her down, and your eyes widen when she begins heading in Nate's direction.

Before she can reach him, however, he gets in the truck and pulls out of the lot, leaving her standing there, staring after the two of you.

You're glad whatever was about to happen has just been avoided.

Over the next week, you and Nate go to your house every day after school to study. You gradually get to know more about one another, like you learning he has a brother—which you'd somehow managed to forget over the years—and he tells you how passionate he is about personal fitness, something to which you don't much relate.

It'd been abundantly clear since day one that he dislikes his father. But that dislike—even if he talks about him very little—clearly, somewhere along the way, became loathing. It's all in the tone he uses, the language he uses when he's brought up.

But the thing that always seems to calm him—make him happier—is talking about you.

He asks you every question in the book: favorite food, color, flower, song, type of music, art, what you want to be when you graduate, the kind of house you want to live in. The list is endless.

And then the day came when he asked to see your room, with you standing awkwardly in the doorway as he surveys every inch.

He starts with your bed, your fluffy white comforter with small pink flowers printed across it, and your plethora of pillows. And then he notices the small brown teddy bear leaned back against said pillows. He briefly picks it up, smirking to himself, then looking at you.

“Do you sleep with this?”

Your face goes blood-red. “Y-yes.”

He studies it for a moment longer, making a mental note to one day buy you one himself, wanting you to sleep with one that’s come from him instead.

In truth, while you think about you sleeping with a stuffed animal as embarrassing—at least for another person to now know about—it’s a major fucking turn-on for him. You’re that innocent that you still sleep with a teddy.

He sets it back down, throwing a “that’s very sweet” your way before moving on to your bookshelves.

Not that he’s read or heard of the grand majority of the novels you have, he can tell by the titles and covers alone that they’re all either romance or fantasy. He supposes he understands that: you trying to escape through stories. Stories where you can go somewhere else, be someone else. Have a new family, new friends.

And then he thinks it incredibly sad—just how lonely you are.

It’s not like he isn’t already aware of it, because he is—has became more and more so as the last week has gone on. Everyday he’s come to your house it’s been empty. But to see your shelves crammed full of books—your one attempt at escaping into a better life—he vows in that moment to start working faster at bringing the two of you together into a relationship.

You need him.

You like stories about princesses trapped in towers and white knights coming to save them? Then that’s exactly what he’ll be for you. He’ll rescue you from the lonely hell you’re living in and give himself to you fully. He’ll dedicate all of his time that he can to you. And he plans to spoil you fucking rotten.

He looks over the various trinkets you have set on—and on top of—those shame shelves. Porcelain figurines of unicorns and cats, a small jeweled crown, some candles and a few faux plants.

He turns back to you. “Which one is your favorite?”

You shift nervously from one foot to the other. “The Lord of the Rings, actually. I…I really like Éowyn and Faramir’s story.”

He nods.

He’s never watched the movies, and has obviously never read the book, so he makes a mental note to at least do some reading on the characters you’ve mentioned to understand you better.

He then looks over your entertainment center and the small collection of DVDs you have alphabetically organized in one of the cubbies. Beauty and the Beast, Ever After, Stardust, The Last Unicorn, The Princess Bride, among a few others.

He then steps over to your closet and pulls the doors open without even asking your permission first.

You don’t much react to him doing so, supposing that everything in there you’ve worn to school at some point anyway.

He’s met with skirts and sweaters and dress blouses. Another thing he’s going to have to change—your wardrobe. It isn’t exactly “frumpy”, but it isn’t feminine enough for his taste, either. He wants your clothes to reflect who you truly are. Sun and baby doll dresses, and tennis skirts with the right pretty tops will suit you far better. Sandals and delicate flats. Your hair curled and actually down for once, perhaps with a bow in it. And he’ll buy you a few nice pieces of expensive jewelry as well. Maybe take you on a shopping trip to Tiffany one day.

He closes the doors in front of him.

What he really wants is to go through not just your bedside table, but also the top drawers of your dresser. He's curious if you've ventured into the territory of lingerie and sex-toys yet. And if so, what your preferences are.

He doesn't like to imagine you using more than a vibrator on your clit to get yourself to orgasm. As for lingerie, he doubts that you own any, but he often pictures you in lacy panties and pastel teddy nightgowns.

He adds such things to his mental shopping list of things to one day buy you.

Speaking of orgasms, however, he'd come thinking of you nearly every night for the past week.

He imagined you on his bed, naked, your pussy soaked for him, your legs spread wide as he teased you until you were begging for him to put himself inside of you.

He imagined all the things he'd teach you in bed, sure that you're inexperienced.

And only after you promised him that you're his—belonged to him and wanted no one and nothing else but him—did he finally join your two bodies together.

Finally, he sits on the edge of your bed. He then glances to the chair which hangs from the ceiling in the back left corner of your room, directly facing where he now sits.

You walk over, sitting in it.

He then lays back on your bed, feet still planted firmly on the floor, arms folded behind his head—God, he’s so tall.

“Do you not get lonely here?” He asks, turning his head to look at you.

You lift one of your socked-feet onto the chair, wrapping your arms around your bent knee. You shrug.

He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

Your brows furrow. “Do what?”

“Act like you being left alone all the time doesn’t matter. It matters; you matter.”

You remain quiet. Then, “I’m used to it. I like being alone.”

He refuses to believe that, knows it’s bullshit.

You’d only spent a week together, and only a little over an hour every day at that, but it’d not taken but a couple of days for you to—at times—talk his ear off. At one point, it’d nearly gotten on his last nerve, until his stomach dropped and heart broke when he realized why: how fucking long had it been since you’d had someone—anyone—to really talk to? Someone who bothered to truly listen? How long had you stayed silent, withdrawing further and further into yourself, until you’d built up an entire fantasy world within your mind and soul, which became your new reality?

And so he promised to himself—and mentally to you—that he’d never, even if it were true—tell you he doesn’t care what you have to say. He won’t be just one more person to hurt and let you down. Just like he knows you won’t be as much to him.

You’re good for him. He could tell as much from the first day he spoke to you.

He stares at you for a moment, making you squirm. “I don’t believe that.”

“Ok.” You don’t particularly feel like arguing. He can believe whatever he wishes.

He frowns. He dislikes that you don’t seem to much care what his opinion of you is. He supposes it’s a strange dichotomy. Going from Cassie who, it was all she cared about, to you, who clearly can’t care less.

“You’re really telling me that talking to barely anyone at school, except occasionally Lexi, and being alone in this house all the time doesn’t ever get to you?”

You shrug. “It’s just what I’m used to.”

In all the talking to him you’d done over the past week, all of it had been surface-level. About history or the new book you were reading, or something you’d read in a news article. None of it was actually truly about you.

If his plan to get in deeper with you—to know you like no other person on the planet does—is going to work, then you need to give him more.

“What if it wasn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking up to the ceiling. “What if we started hanging out more often than just when we study after school? We could text or something, too.”

You appreciate his being concerned for you, you think it really kind of him. Even if makes you the least bit uncomfortable. You tell yourself it’s simply because it’s something you’re not used to: someone showing genuine concern for you.

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

He looks at you again. “You wouldn’t be. I like spending time with you.”

You’re not sure how to respond, so you just say thanks.

“I feel like for the last week I’ve done nothing but ask you questions about yourself. Is there anything you want to know about me?”

He’ll never admit it, but your lack of interest in him hurts his feelings. It makes him feel like you aren’t nearly as attracted to him as he is to you.

“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He smirks. So that’s why. Always so fucking considerate; his sweet girl.

“You won’t.”

You think for a moment. The things you really want to ask him about are too personal this early on (even if you’d told yourself such things were none of your business, you can’t help wanting answers). Like why he despises his dad so much, and what happened with him and Maddy and Cassie. And what happened at that New Year’s party which landed him in the hospital?

You start smaller. “What made you want to play football?”

He considers giving you some bullshit answer—which will seem a plausible enough explanation—and giving you the actual truth. Finally, he decides on both. “It gives me something to do, for one. A reason to push myself harder. It gives me something to focus on. And football is a contact sport. So when I’m pissed off, I finally have something to take it out on.”

“Like when you’re angry with your dad?”

He grows silent.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

He shakes his head. “It’s ok. It’s not like I’ve exactly been subtle about my dislike of him.”

He doesn’t elaborate further than that.

“So…what’s your favorite color?”

He laughs. “I don’t know. Black, I guess.”

Somehow it seems fitting for him.

He looks at you, able to read you. “But that’s not the kind of question you want to be asking, is it?”

“I don’t want to overstep boundaries.”

He leans up on one elbow. “Then how about we make it fair? You ask me one actually personal question, and then I ask you one. And we both have to answer. No matter what. As soon as one of us refuses to, I head home.”

You think about it for a moment, worried about the sorts of things he may ask, but you have an out. “Deal.”

He smiles. “Alright, ladies first.”

“Will you tell me what happened during New Year’s?”

He sits up fully then. “Fezco smashed a bottle over my head, then beat me within an inch of my life. He got the upper hand immediately by doing what he did with the liquor bottle. He almost fucking killed me, all for a worthless druggy.”

Your brows furrow. “Who?”

“Rue went to him with some made-up story about me harassing her and some friend of hers online. When in reality I want nothing to do with her. So then he threatened to kill me and finally fucking tried to.”

“Why would she do something like that?” It feels like he isn’t giving you the whole story. He’s laid out the edges of a puzzle, but is withholding the middle.

He shrugs. “She’s a drug addict, how should I know?”

Before you can reply, can think of a polite way to say: so what’s the real story here, he takes his turn.

“How come we were never friends?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve known each other since we were five-years-old. We grew up together, have known each other for over a decade now. And only in the last week have we really finally talked, or spent any amount of time together.”

You lean back in your seat. “Well, just because you grow up with someone doesn’t mean that fact has to serve as some prerequisite to becoming best friends or something. Sometimes people, even from a young age, just don’t click. You were always running around on the playground, playing sports with others. I was always sitting off to the side and reading or coloring or playing with toys. I guess you were just more outgoing than me.”

“You know what they say: opposites attract.”

You tell yourself he’s just referring to friendship.

He lays back again. “Well, it may’ve only taken eleven years, but we’re friends now. I just… I just wonder what things might’ve been like had it happened sooner.” He sighs, then, “Your turn again.”

To an extent, you wonder that, too. Mostly just what it would’ve been like to have a best friend for that long.

“What happened between you, Maddy, and Cassie?”

“Not going to give me an easy one, huh?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Me and Maddy had been together since sophomore year. I guess we just grew comfortable with one another, even if we weren’t always happy. Even if it wasn’t always healthy. It didn’t start out toxic. We were happy at first. For awhile. A long while. But she just…it was like she wasn’t pleased unless we were fighting and then making up.

“It was just a constant cycle of her beating me down, then trying to build me back up again through sex. She just…she made me feel like shit about myself. As both her boyfriend and a man. It was like it wasn’t bad enough: the shit I dealt with at home with my dad. She just had to become one more problem in my life that I was forced to deal with.

“I’d hoped that if I loved her hard enough, if I gave her enough, she’d love me back the way I wanted to be loved. The way I loved her. Turns out I was just a fucking idiot.”

Tears sting your eyes. You feel so sorry for him. To be so young and to have already known an emotionally abusive relationship was heartbreaking. It was one reason why you refused to date at such a young age. You were all too young to understand yourselves, nevermind another person. Not in the context of loving and taking care of them, at least. You all were barely even fully-formed people yet.

So that was what Lexi had been referring to before. Just like everything, there were always two sides.

“And Cassie?” You ask, softly.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Just a giant fucking mistake. We first hooked up a couple weeks after Maddy and I had broken up…again. It happened on New Year’s Eve. I just…maybe I was trying to get even for what Maddy had done to me at the beginning of the school year—fucking a guy in the pool at McKay’s house—right in front of everyone.

"And then we hung out more, and at first I thought she was different. Maybe better for me. Until she started blowing up my phone with hundreds of calls and texts, screaming one night in my room about how crazy she was, how she’d never let me be with anyone else. How she was better for me than all the rest.”

Your brows raise. That unhinged? Cassie had always seemed so sweet and demure to you. But you’d also hardly ever been around her outside of school.

And dating—being in relationships—seemed to sometimes bring out the worst in people. Facets they themselves didn’t even know they had.

“I’m sorry, Nate. I never knew Cassie was so…” You trail off, until he fills in the rest for you.

“Psychotic?”

You laugh. “I wasn’t going to say it like that, but…” You shift legs, wrapping your arms around your other one now. “Your turn.”

He remains lying back, wanting this question to come off as something he’s casually asking. Whereas, in reality, he’ll be holding onto every word of your answer.

“Have you ever dated before?”

You feel like you suddenly want to use your out, but refrain. It’s a simple enough question, with a simple answer. “No.”

He looks over at you. “Never?”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh.”

His brows raise. He’d never known you to have a boyfriend before, but until recently he’d not exactly kept tabs on you.

It surprises him.

“Have you never kissed anyone or had sex?” He prays the answer to both is no. Also hopes you don’t cut his questioning you short.

You’re quiet for a moment, the two of you just staring at one another. Until, finally, you decide to answer. “No. And I’m not ashamed to say it. Not having done either of those things is a choice, just like having done them is as well.”

He sits up, hunching over to try and hide the erection he can feel forming.

No one has ever been inside of you—not in your mouth, not in your pussy, and not in your ass. Another pair of lips have never even touched your own, another tongue has never tasted you. Another pair of eyes has never explored your lovely naked body.

He wants to know what you do, then, to satiate yourself when the mood strikes. Do you rub at your clit until you come? Do you finger yourself—he wonders if your hymen is still intact? Do you bunch a pillow up between your legs, humping it until you've finished and the case is soaked? Or do you take and rub your teddy against your wet, needy pussy until you’re sore and can’t take it anymore?

God he wants to know what you fucking taste like. Wants to feel your fingers in his hair as he goes down on you. Needs to know what your perfect pussy feels like around his cock.

But he knows it’s too soon for any of that. For you, at least.

“That’s not something to be ashamed of. Not nowadays. You should be proud of yourself for having held out this long. I admire it.”

You shrug. “It’s not that hard to do.”

He smirks. “That’s because you’ve never done it before. Once you’ve been with someone in that way…giving up that kind of intimacy is difficult.”

You think any kind of intimacy must be hard to let go of after having it. Whether it’s emotional, intellectual, physical…sexual. Maybe it’s one more reason you keep most people at arm’s-length. If you never let anyone in, then you’ll never have to worry about losing them.

You clear your throat. “My turn.”

He lays back again.

“Can I ask about your dad?”

He flexes his jaw. “What about him?”

“Why do you hate him so much?”

There’s a long pause and then he finally sits up. “I guess it’s time for me to go.”

You plant both of your feet on the floor, now sitting on the edge of your swing-chair. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I was just curious. Since he always seems so…perfect, you hating him, I guess, is just a source of confusion for me. Then again, maybe that perfection is the source of it: your hate. I don’t know.”

“That’s part of it. But not all.” And that’s all the answer he’s willing to give you.

Letting onto his hate for his father in the first place was a mistake. But that loathing sometimes seeped out. And he feels like he can be honest with you. He trusts you. So, sometimes he lets go a little. That lid he keeps so tightly screwed slips loose sometimes in your presence.

He stands and you fill with guilt.

You’d gone too far. You’d known better—that asking about his father would end up being a mistake—but you’d brought him up anyway. And now you’d ruined the day.

“You really don’t have to leave. We can talk about something else?”

He pretends to consider that for a moment. When in reality, he’s all too-pleased that you’re so eager for him to stay.

Then, he steps over to you, standing in front of your seat, towering over you as you look up at him. He briefly thinks that this would be a perfect position for the both of you to be in as you take him into your mouth.

Then, he kneels down. One week was all it had taken for you to bring him to his knees.

He reaches up, grabbing either of the ropes the chair hangs from from on either side of you. “It’s Friday.”

You smile nervously. “That’s very observant of you.”

He smiles, letting out a small chuckle. “I just mean that it’s only four o’ clock; still early. We could go do something together.”

He begins to lightly swing you, just barely.

“Like what?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “Whatever you want. I could take you to dinner, take you shopping. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, even if you just want to drive around.”

You don’t know how to respond to his offer. “You don’t have anywhere else you need to be?”

“Not at all.” He wants so desperately to touch you, but he sees you like a newborn fawn, easily frightened; skittish. So he refrains. For now at least.

You glance to the set of glass doors beside the two of you which lead into your backyard. At the sun still high in the sky and tree branches blowing lightly in the wind. And then you look back to Nate, seeing no good reason to waste such a beautiful day cooped up inside.

“Okay.”

He smiles. “Good.” He stands, offering you his hand.

You take it, doing the same. “I’ll just be a minute, I need to change again. Don’t really want to go out in sweats.”

He nods, going to leave, then stops by your closet. He pulls the doors open and you watch as he pulls out a light-pink sundress, then turns back to you, holding it out in your direction.

“You don’t have to wear it, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it on you at school before. Just thought it might look nice.”

You gently take the dress from him.

He speaks before you can tell him no. “I’ll be waiting in the living room. Take your time.”

Once the door has shut behind him, you look down at the dress in your hands, then at the things you usually wear—the clothes you feel most comfortable in—beckoning you from your closet.

While you dress, Nate leans back on the couch, hoping you wear what he’s picked out for you. In truth, he wants to dress every inch of you. He wants to do your hair, your makeup—even if you never wear any. He wants to pick out a cute matching pair of lingerie for you—so only he knows what’s under your clothes—your shoes, your jewelry, even your perfume.

He isn’t sure why it means so much to him—perhaps it’s just another thing he feels the need to have control over. He wants you to look nice. He knows you’re capable of matching his ideal picture of what he wants you to be in his head.

When you finally emerge from your bedroom fifteen minutes later—you’d spent half of that time sitting on your bed considering putting the dress away—he’s left speechless.

You’d put on the dress, along with a cute pair of sandals, your toes already painted a pleasant shade of pink, which just so happens to match the item you’re now wearing. And between your breasts hangs a necklace.

You stand in the entryway awkwardly, one of your hands clutching your other arm. “I feel ridiculous,” you whisper, your face red.

He stands, coming to position himself in front of you. “You look beautiful.”

You’re surprised by his response. Wearing something which shows off so much of your body makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You’d considered putting on a cardigan to cover your arms, but it’s almost ninety-degrees outside. So you decided against it.

He reaches around to the base of your ponytail, his thumb, index and middle finger gripping your hairband. “May I?” He asks, looking down at you.

You feel dumbstruck by the sensation of the base of your hair in his grip, so you just nod.

He gently pulls the band free, your hair falling over your shoulders and down your back, coming to rest just above your ass.

He’s never seen hair as long as yours before. Why the hell do you keep it up all the time?

He flexes his hand, the holder now firmly around his wrist and he reaches up with both of his hands, running his fingers through your soft hair, massaging your scalp as he styles it.

You just stare up at him, his face the picture of concentration as his fingers work against your head, through your long strands of hair. Your eyelids droop just a bit out of the feeling of relaxation that comes over you, goosebumps rising on your arms.

Nate takes note of that, as well as the quiet whimper in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against the base of your neck for just a moment. He likes that you like the way he’s touching you. He wants to know what other places his fingers and hands could explore that would get him similar results.

Finally, once he deems your hair presentable to his personal satisfaction, half of it falling down your back, the other half split evenly over both of your shoulders, he slips one hand into his pocket, the other coming to rest under your chin, making you look up at him again.

He feels blood rush to his cock at the flushed, lax look on your face as your hooded eyes stare up into his own.

“Why don’t you wear your hair down more often? It looks very pretty like this.”

“It gets in my way,” you state, your voice now having a dreamy quality to it.

He really likes you like this. All soft and submissive and dressed how he likes. He wants you wrapped around his finger sooner rather than later. Completely his in every single fucking way imaginable.

Today will be one step closer to getting that future.

He deems what you’ve said a good enough answer, but he knows you’ll have to get used to it. Your hair being down suits you far better than it being up.

He steps away, walking over to the door, holding it open for you.

Once you’ve locked it behind you, he holds open the passenger side door of his truck for you, same as always, shutting it firmly once you’re inside.

[elysiansparadise]

Heyyo !! Hope you're doing well. I have a question if are going continue your planets in houses series for 8th House moon

Hello! I’m doing just fine, I hope you too. Of course I will continue, until I’ve covered each placement. 🤎 

Moon in the 8th house

They are people of complex nature, since many of them tend to be very cautious when it comes to opening up to new people, they do not trust their hearts so easily in others and they can even show themselves as very self-sufficient in the emotional field, however, these natives internally desire a deep degree of emotional intimacy, even bordering on emotional. They prefer intense, meaningful ties that really contribute something to their lives rather than something superficial and vain. This is usually something difficult for them because it is difficult for them to open up and want to meet new people. This is due more than anything to a fear of appearing vulnerable, manipulable and, mostly, due to bad experiences with previous relationships. It’s likely that the relationship with the family, mother or a specific member was tense and taught them to always be alert for any sign of lying or betrayal. They detect people who show false emotions or who lie, as they stand out for being observant. They may prefer to make decisions based on their mind rather than their heart, and it is likely that at some point in their life they ignored their emotional needs, both other people and themselves. They fear that they will feel a lot and get hurt or that the other person will not give themselves in that devoted and passionate way with which they do it.

For them it is crucial to give their all when it comes to something important or meaningful to them, they do not give themselves halfway. They find it difficult to be expressive, but once they are comfortable enough they are very constant with their demonstrations of affection or appreciation. They have this ability to feel the emotions of others and tend to accurately deduce the emotional triggers and needs of others. They have a genuine curiosity to know the core of those who matter to them, they will want to know every part of your mind, your history and everything that your heart is silent about, this in order to understand you better. In the sexual field, they need a certain emotional closeness or feeling in love to fully enjoy. A pretty face is not enough for them and they tend to be very attracted to complex, interesting and understanding personalities. They give themselves completely, body and soul, and there is nothing they like more than feeling that their partner does the same. Aftercare is crucial and necessary.

They know how to be alone and highly value their time with themselves, they are introspective with their emotions and they like to get to the root of things. A lie can be something unforgivable for many of them and they will always prefer a very honest truth over a white or sugar-coated lie. Their intuition is very strong and they may feel an attraction or even have a knack for things like tarot, astrology or similar things. They read you like a book, but you can hardly do the same with them. They have a deep connection with their unconscious. It is likely that since they were children they have had very intense spiritual experiences and that the mystical world seems truly fascinating to them. They have one goal [among their many goals] to become the adult they felt they needed when they were children, since it is likely that their inner child carries a feeling of fear and insecurity. They are people who behind their strong and empowered personality is someone sensitive and compassionate. People often see them as a very strong pillar in which to fully trust, and it is likely that only the natives themselves are aware of their emotional intensity, as others describe them as calm and collected most of the time.

-> Go back to the masterlist

[yzzart]

"𝐎𝐡, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡?"

pairing: president!Coriolanus x f!reader.

summary: Coriolanus could do anything he wanted except run away from his past.

word count: 2.117!

warnings: content a little dark, manipulation, possessiveness, mention of lyrics from "queen of peace" by florence + the machine, mention of violence and death, explicit words

notes: just listen to this song and you will soon understand everything!

"Darling?"

Coriolanus' voice boomed through the atmosphere of the main room, which had a peculiar snowflake shape, along with the noises and clicks of his footsteps with his shiny, expensive, black-pigmented shoes. — By the obvious movement, the young man was restless due to your absence.

Coming to think and wonder if you had left without telling him, or, mainly, without asking him for permission.

No, wouldn't you be capable of doing something like that with him? Right. — He wouldn't admit it once again in his life, on his skin.

Continuing with his determined steps, Coriolanus began to feel more restless, wanting some information or a simple crumb of bread, poetically, about your whereabouts. — He could just scream your name trying to find you, but he kept that suggestion in a dark and unplanned place in his mind. — Coriolanus clicked his tongue, almost clenching his teeth.

Till a melody surrounded the ears of Coriolanus; she was far away, perhaps, at the end of the corridor where he was present. — The melody was muffled, almost inaudible, in terms of actually understanding the lyrics, but its vibration calmed him down, there being a limit to a certain point.

He approached the room, cautiously, and with each step, the louder and more understandable the song became, and the lyrics demonstrated meaning now. — Leaning his fingers on the golden handle of the white door made of the richest wood, Coriolanus opens it just a little, leaving a gap and having the opportunity to dazzle his image.

"And my love is no good…" — In such a sultry and melancholy tone with a mixture of unhappy emotion, your voice continued to invade the young man's attention. — "…against the fortress that it made of you." — The fallacies were determined on your delicate lips, like a fable.

While, indeed, a miserable lump formed precipitately in your throat; scratching your with such a blunt and barbaric intention. — The same knot that could be made to eliminate those who were accused and denounced for treason.

A knot that was once made, made by the rough, calloused and filthy hands of your loved one. — The same hands that touched your body like a sculpture, thinking about the delicacy and care he should monopolize with you; losing himself in a thought so dark, that he claimed to be the only one who could admire it. — Being able to tear out the eyes, or even the hearts, of those who try to win a touch or greeting from you.

Coriolanus's hands were already dirty, so what would be the point of not getting them some more dirty?

"Blood is running deep." — Your hands passed over the sublimely rich fabric of your dress and with a reddish pigmentation, which was not subtle and, incredibly, of a very strong and intense tone. — "Sorrow that you keep." — That piece of clothing was clearly a gift of passion and dedication from your lover.

Passion could be a very strong word and a little dubious, in some cases, even intolerable. — You didn't believe that, which was possibly ironic coming from a girl from the Capital. — However, even though he deeply hated how his fingers were being pressed against the thorns of a rose, Coriolanus announced that it was out of passion; even not being.

He would never believe in that feeling again in his life, in his death or in his, presumably, incarnation. — His poisonous and lying lips would not risk uttering that word; and feel fragile, and so weakened again. — You would never be enchanted by the illusions and songs of a bird.

Coriolanus would not admit another reflection of his defeat against that little bird.

"Now you have me on the run." — The lyrics fit perfectly into the young man's troubled mind; wanting to drive him insane, even beneath that skin lies. — He felt like he was eighteen again. — "The damage is already done." — There was a pain behind those words, perhaps, accompanied by a meaning.

It seemed that the order of the song had been tampered with, a modification, vulgarly, made without any kind of shame or embarrassment in being expressed. — Because that was the main purpose; something that was exposed and taught by a little singing bird in the bitter breast of Coriolanus. — And, that way, you felt and let yourself experiment and experience.

All this because of him. — All this Lucy Gray has already done and had the opportunity to change and escape.

The young president felt his blood boil, expanding into a relentless and violent burning; just like him. — Coriolanus desired, longed to end that miserable song, to interrupt what, in fact, was bewitching and weakening his consciousness; he felt persecuted. — However, never destroyed. — So suffocated, in a perverse way.

"Is this what you want?" — How come you hadn't noticed his presence yet? Even Coriolanus's breathing was intimidating, and warned any soul of who was nearby. — "Cause you're driving me away…" — He wanted to laugh, in fact, he wanted to laugh at his testimonies turned into song; perhaps this was one of the symptoms of nervousness.

Your lover forced himself to bury any trace of tension that coursed, or rather, that flew, freely, between his body; he did not accept that such an inferior and ordinary feeling coming into contact with him. — Coriolanus' nostrils already smelled the wild fragrance of the forest; that smell of wet earth, of branches and leaves wet with a mixture of mud and the, terribly, natural aroma of birds. — Snow was starting to feel disgusted with himself.

He wanted to mock himself, mock that thought, mock the way he was hallucinating.

You continued, unbearably, ignoring the presence of Coriolanus; realizing it as if he were a ghost from an insufferable and uncomfortable past, analyzing the only way to save yourself from him. — Image of you remained calm, balanced and stable, possibly acting; exercising a moment of pretense over his emotions conceived in that composition. — Was that truly possible?

"Some things never sleep." — Your voice developed a weakness, little by little, and became a punished whisper trying to complete the desolate song; like a little bird asking its mother for help and losing its voice but never stopping singing.

Coriolanus desired to push open the door of wood so rich and well wrought, thus ending with that despicable and tormenting torture; normally, the young boy would order with subtlety and supposedly being careful with his words directed at you, however, that circumstance was not considered normal. — More sudden action would be tolerated. — But, something in Coriolanus prevented him from committing such an act.

Suddenly, Coriolanus's strength had disappeared, leaving no footprints or any simple traces; he didn't have the courage or his arrogant, arrogant bravery coursing through his blood at that moment. — The president of Panem did not know how to explain, or justify, why and how this was happening, precisely, to him; For the first time in years, he didn't have an answer on his sharp tongue.

Coriolanus remained standing, watching your image walking through the modest environment, so organized and dark in color with some light tones that it made you sick; unfortunately, the issue of decorating the room did not have your help or opinion, as everything was requested by Coriolanus. — Now your steps echoed, softly, on the wooden floor that shined, to the point of showing a little reflection, and his attention was contented with the bookcase that was present. — At least one good thing, you said when you first saw it.

It was a whim that Coriolanus asked to put on, especially, for you; something that was recognized with a lot of love and gratitude, he remembers that an emotional smile remained on your lips the entire day. — You had loved, in fact, adored and so grateful for the attention you received from your lover.

Most of the books that were there addressed and talked about the Capital, of course; the words discussed Panem's victories, valuing its homes and riches, describing its beauties in each paragraph and despising the districts and rebels in each verse. — Even though you were so unhappy, not wanting to understand that hatred, that desire to extinguish so many people and children, you continued reading. — Having no options about what to do with such immense free time and being so lonely.

At least the singing was over, Coriolanus thought. — His body was already ready to move away from that door, wanting to return to his main and future tasks, not allowing any more distractions. — And burning, with rigidity and robustness, the traces of his thoughts about his past, about his miserable eighteen-year-old soul, about the little bird that escaped from its cage.

But, from the looks of it, Coriolanus had found another and this time, he would not leave the door to his golden cage open and there were no more bars for everyone to see what was inside. — Only he would have this opportunity, this satisfied and sweet privilege.

"Is this what you want?" — Once again, your voice vibrated through the room, and it seemed as if ypur lips were pressed against Coriolanus's ears, for he heard clearly and so loudly; wanting to rip them out, something peculiar and curious because your voice was beautiful and at the same time managed to charm him.

Coriolanus wanted to slam his chiseled, arrogant face against that damned door, just like that, opening it.

Raising his fascinating and deeply honorable blue eyes, Coriolanus followed your body as it walked again, with tight steps, once again across the room and passing by a large and clean mirror; that Coriolanus forgot, without tolerance, its existence. — Another whimsical gift that he had ordered placed there. — And he was able to admire, contemplate himself in your beauty and affirm how that color suited you, and even commented to Tigris; and how that dress flattered your curves.

That piece of clothing, which cost more than the blood, body and, possibly, the soul of the people who lived in the Capital, valued your body. — Satisfying the eyes and desires of Coriolanus.

Taking a deep breath, Coriolanus controlled himself, imposing a limit on his mind and leaving such inappropriate and unrespectable thoughts for a correct and appropriate moment. — When he blinked his eyes, committing himself to regularizing his affairs, his eyes deepened for the last time on you, thus acting in a silent farewell. — And you continued in front of the mirror, running your hand, for the second time, over your dress, looking for any wrinkles; and there were none.

Snow wasn't looking at your reflection, oddly enough, he was also looking for any wrinkles or loose threads, stubborn in the fabric. — And he concluded that there was nothing, everything was perfect. — His attention went to your reflection in the mirror, wanting to see your beautiful face, this time, and quickly, Coriolanus' body became static, completely immobile in front of what he had seen.

A pain so anguished and agonizing, as if he had been shot, that would tease his life until the end of it, formed in his chest; deepening with his uncontrolled breathing, his eyes glassy and almost watering, unable to blink. — Coriolanus looked like a harmless animal, who was facing his death and ready to be devoured. — Your hands began to sweat and, at the same time, a tingling sensation began between your fingers.

His saliva ran down his throat, and he couldn't even speak, it seemed impossible and he didn't have the chance or strength to even sigh. — The promising young man of Panem could be going crazy, when in fact, he was wishing he were dying.

"Cause you're driving me away." — You were no longer singing, now, your lips released a concrete affirmation, finding a certainty in your heart and directing it to the one who spied on your soul. — You knew he was there, you knew Coriolanus had his eyes on you from the beginning.

However, it was not your eyes that met his through the mirror; oh, Coriolanus wanted them to be his. — And as he wished, in fact, in better words, he cried out, begged. — And never being a man of belief, not believing in any supposition, or anything of the sort, not even in words of faith, Coriolanus prayed that he was going mad, becoming insane.

Coriolanus Snow imagined himself on his knees among splinters of wood and stones, begging that image, which was standing still, immobilized and, sternly, admirable, and staring at him to go away; that disappears, disappears without direction or path, just like it had done once. — He wanted to punch, hurt his hands, that unfortunate glass that reflected.

Because Lucy Gray's body was fixed on the mirror, instead of your.

[starry-bi-sky]

Part two of the "Clone Danny" au

The link to the first part is put above!

His friends know that he's phantom, they help him out just the same as before. Due to not having any ghost powers, Danny has to rely on tech and outsmarting the ghosts a lot more than before. He can't keep stealing tech from his parents' lab either, and he can't ask them to fix it if his stuff breaks. He teaches himself how to fix it.

(Its a lot of sleepless nights stealing his parents' blueprints and trying to study them. And a lot of late night research and talking with Tucker on how to build and understand tech. He refuses to rely on Tucker for his gear)

He talks to Sam about fashioning a persona as both Phantom and as Fenton. She's been to a lot of rich parties, she's seen celebrities and how they act. A "careless party boy" won't work for Danny. He's no A-Lister. But coward, feeble Fenton works just fine. Minus his smartass comments, which he can slowly start phasing out of his "civilian" life under the guise of there being ghosts.

He draws into himself, keeps his head down in class, wears baggy clothing. Ghost fighting at night really does a lot of the work for him, since he's so tired in class that he doesn't bother putting his hand up or participating. He can play the part of "loner, loser Fenton" pretty well, and ups the ante.

Phantom already has a small fanbase amongst the A-listers for being the strong, silent confident vigilante-hunter protecting them from the ghosts. Nothing much changes there other than a few minor things. Anyone who knows ASL knows he's a major fucking smart-ass who keeps cracking jokes and puns at the ghosts.

Danny learns self-defense after getting his ass beat too many times (he also gets Really Good at gym because he runs a LOT after ghosts. He eventually learns to make trackers to stick onto them when they fly away) and even gets a few ghosts to help him after he befriends them while they're exploring Amity at night. Its nothing professional and he still gets hurt a lot, but he knows how to throw a better punch than before. And he knows how to dodge better.

Since he's going for a "get them tfo of here before my parents get here" approach, danny takes a more of a "talk first, fight later" route. this... kinda works. mainly for the non-hostile ghosts. its how he manages to get some of them to help him with fighting.

Danny's honestly really, really clever. He largely relies on his wits since he doesn't have any powers to force ghosts back into the ghost zone.

TUE still happens it just occurs a little differently. Vlad Masters still wants Danny to be his son and Maddie his wife, etc. But he also wants to turn Danny into a Halfa like himself, since he knows that Danny has mild ghost abilities, he thinks he has the capacity to turn into a halfa.

Dan happens when Vlad manipulates a grieving danny into agreeing to become a halfa like himself. Except it kills Danny fully, and in his rage, Danny, now dead and a ghost, rips out Vlad's ghost half and merges with it and creates Dan. So not too different from canon.

….actually i change my mind. Danny’s ghost doesn’t merge with Vlad. Danny’s ghost tears Plasmius apart for lying to him. Dan is entirely Danny, just big and hurting and wanting to hurt others because of it. His emotions are big so Dan is big.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

[waywardsunlight]

I think Luz's trauma due to being an abuse victim gets ignored a lot in favor of other characters. Luz has an odd role in the fandom as this character who other characters rely on, or who isn't an abuse victim but is supportive of her friends who are, and I think that ends up missing a huge part of her story.

Belos compliments her a lot, which is partially because he wants to reach out to her and mostly because he thinks he can manipulate her. He does some backhanded compliments, telling her she's improved but she still has work to do to catch up to him. He also thanks her quite a few times. The way he thanks her intentionally triggers her guilt, especially when he thanks her for helping him with Hunter. He also compliments her to put other people down, like when he tells her she's "better than this" (implying their race makes them morally superior).

He also uses the same manipulation tactic on Luz that he does on Hunter, although it doesn't work as well on her. He tries to remove his own agency for his physical violence by blaming the Curse. The biggest example is in King's Tide, when he pretends he can't hear her as he's racing after her to try and kill her. He ends up cutting her face while pretending to be out of control and then in the same sequence has full control and clarity to talk to Hunter and the Collector. He gaslights Luz by trying to make it seem like it was The Curse causing him to act in the way he did.

He refers to Luz as "crazy" to invalidate her emotions and harming Hunter in front of her also is a form of abuse. He's obviously aware that hurting Hunter traumatizes Luz (and everyone else) but as his focus transfers from Hunter to Luz in Hollow Mind, he starts targeting her specifically by harming Hunter to hurt her (especially in TTT). Belos shifts the blame for events from himself to Luz and also attempts to make her feel guilty. Hunter seems to understand that Luz is also being abused and tries to reassure her that Belos is an abuser and she shouldn't take what he says at face value. Luz ends up taking that advice to heart after she's able to forgive herself and face Belos. She doesn't speak to him but is able to hear his manipulation tactics and just. stare at him bc he's full of bullshit.

Just because he 'only' hits her a few times and isn't her guardian doesn't mean he can't abuse her or that he didn't. It's not really a protagonist-antagonist relationship as much as it is "adult man nuking 14 year old repeatedly until she becomes god and kills him". The idea that child abuse can only come from parents and not role models or other adults in your life is odd, because he distinctly holds a position of power over her (literally an Emperor and an adult who intentionally isolates her and the other kids alone to abuse them) and uses it to emotionally and physically harm her.

Papa Titan has to reassure her that she's okay to kill Belos because he's literally a serial killer who's lying about his intentions. Luz still slightly falls for Belos's sympathetic line until that moment because he very intentionally tried to get her to feel bad for him and also feel guilt about herself.

This is also why I really detest any fandom takes where Belos canonically is supposed to care about her, or Luz owes him anything. Manipulation is not sympathetic. Belos committed premeditated murder and then used the remains of his murder victim to try to make a "Better Version" of his murder victim which was actually just a way to punish him repeatedly and keep taking out revenge on kids who had nothing to do with the original conflict. Belos is Luz's abuser also, and Luz doesn't owe him any sort of kindness or consideration and her anger is valid.

Luz is an abuse victim of Belos's in addition to Hunter and the Collector (and Vee/Lilith by extension), and she should be considered as such rather than her trauma being invalidated in favor of other characters.

[tvccreator]

Shadow Milk Cookie Headcanons

I've been working on a few stories with Shadow Milk, so I thought I would compile some of my headcanons to share with you all. Hope you enjoy! (It's a bit of a long read, so I apologize. ^^')

Personality:

Shadow Milk is a massive theatre nerd and poetry buff. He constantly makes theatre metaphors and will sometimes be caught quoting famous poets and plays.

He's dramatic as all hell. Shadow Milk thrives on being the center of attention and gets insanely jealous if cookies aren't paying attention to him. He'll often create havoc with his puppets just to get someone to notice him.

Shadow Milk's emotions tend to jump wildly between extremes if he gets worked up. He can easily go from calm and collected to raging psychopath in the span of milliseconds.

He loves to terrorize cookies. If he believes that he can get a reaction from you, you'll quickly find yourself being targeted by the Beast of Deception and his mind games.

His greatest weakness is his pride. He's completely egotistical and sees himself as above other cookies, especially due to his status as one of the five Beast Cookies. Flattery and praise will immediately distract him from what he's doing, and he's a sucker for discussing literature and theatre with anyone who approaches him asking for advice.

Shadow Milk is a naturally baked storyteller, and it shows especially when he's interacting with children. He can easily entertain children for hours on end if need be, and he'll even team up with Eternal Sugar to lull the rowdier children into sleep. (Although you really shouldn't have your kids near Shadow Milk in the first place.)

He's extremely stubborn. While not necessarily the leader of the Beast Cookies, the other four can't tell Shadow Milk what to do or when to do something... with a slight exception.

Eternal Sugar is the only cookie Shadow Milk will listen to, but even then, she only really ever tells him to calm down when he's going on a rampage.

On rare occasions, Shadow Milk will lock himself away in a private space and spend hours simply writing poetry or creating new screenplays. If you haven't heard from Shadow Milk for over thirty minutes, he's most likely working on a project. However, do not disturb Shadow Milk under any circumstances when he's writing. Whenever he gets interrupted, he has a 90% chance of losing his train of thought and will immediately attack the person who interrupted him.

In Battle:

Either a Bomber-type or a Ranger-type, in the Middle position. He specializes in hitting multiple times and in quick succession. While he's not all that strong physically, he makes up for it with his speed and stamina.

Since Shadow Milk used to be the Virtue of Knowledge before his corruption, he is insanely smart on the battlefield. He doesn't like going into battle personally, though, instead opting to sit on the sidelines and relying on strategy and his own silver tongue rather than brute-forcing it (like Burning Spice.)

Shadow Milk will try to use his power to send the entire battlefield into darkness. After all, it's a lot easier to lie to other cookies if they can't see the truth.

If he's rendered desperate enough, Shadow Milk will join the battle himself. However, if he does, consider yourself crumbled. He's not known as a Beast Cookie for nothing; his strength, speed, endurance, and stamina are inhumanely (un-cookie-ly?) high thanks to his former power as a Virtue, and once he enters the battlefield, Shadow Milk won't hesitate to drop all of his lies in favor of bashing cookies' heads in with his staff.

If he's fighting alongside the other Beast Cookies, he tends to tag-team with either Eternal Sugar or Burning Spice. When he's with Eternal Sugar, he uses his powers of deception to get cookies to lower their guard so Eternal Sugar can ambush them. When Shadow Milk and Burning Spice team up, Shadow Milk uses his reality-warping abilities to manipulate the landscape for Burning Spice to cause as much destruction as possible.

[theinnerunderrain]

The apple of his eyes [Yan! Kazuha x Amnesiac! Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, amnesia, manipulation and gaslighting, objectification.

-

Love is a fruit that is always in season and within everyone's fingertips. There is no fixed constraint on who may gather it.

Kazuha reasoned that even if the affection was contrived, it was nevertheless a fruit of blessing and therefore only needed just that little prodding in the right direction. It was his own fruit, which he voluntarily spent time tending to by providing it with continual water, ample food, and trimming at the margins to allow for the healthy growth of new twinges.

"Who are you?"

Kazuha was a bit saddened by your sincere interest as she heard the inquiry leave your lips. But perhaps it was the results of his own behaviour—his failure to effectively manage his emotions. It was an error that he didn't intend to make but committed due to his strong sentiments towards you, which he vowed to better control.

He simply lost control and devoured a touch too much of the fruit.

But how can you condemn him when you're just too sweet for your own good?

"...Ah, you do not seem to remember me."

He mumbled, attempting to seem as miserable and distressed as he could, hoping to elicit your sympathy and cause you to shed your sense of guilt.

"I-I apologise for forgetting. If you just tell me, I might be able to recall certain things..!"

The sound of your bewildered voice prompted a ghost smile to briefly trail the edge of his lips, but the room's obscurity prevented you from seeing any of his smile because of how quickly it vanished.

"[First Name]."

He pronounced your name fluently, as if it were a weekly incantation he repeated to himself as part of his meditations. As though he was so accustomed to saying your name that it became an intrinsic part of his personality.

"There's no need to panic. You can refer to me as Kaedehara Kazuha, your friend."

His statement fell off the tip of his tongue, however it wasn't entirely a lie given that you two were friends prior to the occurrence. He wasn't really lying about anything; considering how close you two were to one another, some people might have even assumed you two were in a relationship.

So he didn't have to feel guilty about anything.

"Ah, so we're friends..!"

You inquired, gazing at him with anticipation as he finished speaking, as if it were a comfort to have a friend by your side who could assist you find your way down the memory lane. As you searched for memories of this alleged friend of yours, the term "friend" kept resonating in your head.

Yet nothing came to mind.

But the name Kazuha does sound oddly familiar, doesn't it?

Kazuha.

Kazuha.

Kazuha.

"You were involved in an accident, one that rendered your mind unconscious and blank. We are lucky enough to have you alive and well."

His lips were as seamless as caramel as he chatted, examining your visage for any indications of emotion as his crimson gaze skimmed over it. However, the only impression on your face was one of utter uncertainty, as if he were some kind of parent attempting to explain to their infant child the significance of the very first day of preschool.

"What sort of accident was I involved in?"

You asked, concealing a few stray hairs behind your ears while you awaited the man's response. The murmur of small ripples squirting against the ship seemed to resonate in the atmosphere, and the wobbling of the vessel made you feel somewhat apprehensive, even if you already got a sense of déjà vu simply being inside the boat.

"That's something I'm not sure of. A Crux crew member discovered your body lying on the shore. Here, drink some water."

Kazuha leaned over the bed and reached for a cup of water, pressing the rim of the grey cup on your lips and tilting your head back so the water would easily flow down your throat.

"I hope that helped you feel much better."

He smiled, setting the cup back to its original position, and then wiped the excess moisture from the corner of your lips with the sleeve of his shirt. Even someone with no memories would be able to tell that possibly Kazuha had a bit too much fondness for you based on his almost too endearing stare.

Yet you made no attempt to question him, only allowing him to gently care for you. Perhaps too afraid or too hesitant to freely question the young man.

"Now, as much as I would love to answer your question."

Kazuha positioned a gentle caress on your shoulder and cautiously eased you into the mattress. He then reached for the blanket and slid it over your body merely enough to encompass the majority of your body. The blanket smelled like syrup and leaves, much like Kazuha, and felt warm against your body amidst the cold night.

"Why don't you rest, and when the moment is right, we'll discuss tomorrow?"

+

What he was doing wasn't wrong.

Kazuha didn't force you to do anything and he didn't tell you any nasty falsehoods. He just added more components to the story.

Kazuha wouldn't even perceive it as pressuring since he wasn't employing any violent methods to ensure you comply with his dictates. So what if he was required to coerce the intimacy between the two of you?

He was essentially repainting over your image of him, as though he were commencing with a blank canvas and rewriting one of his compositions. Kazuha might even claim that your creation is his finest. Given that Kazuha was not a scientist and could not just concoct a love potion, it certainly necessitated some trial and error. He was aware of your doubts about him, yet you were forced to rely on him because you had no other reliable source.

To ensure that the fruit he sought blossoms properly, it just required a small amount of encouragement and a few words. He'll just have to erase your memories when you start to retrieve them, persuade you that you're mistaken, and how could you honestly trust yourself. Shouldn't you be relying on him instead since your mind is filled with voids and empty memories of the past?

You don't have to think of anything.

Let him serve as your compass, like a gardener steadily guiding his fruit in the right direction.

He should manoeuvre the fruit into his hand since there are no set restrictions on who has access to you.

Kazuha wasn't going to let anyone steal from him or ruin the quality of his produce.

Not after he worked so hard.

Not after he had to give you a little shove.

Not while you're clutching to him so affectionately and feeling grateful to your close friend for saving your life.

Not when his fruit is so luscious and red that it is at the pinnacle of its prime, able can be devoured at any time.

If Kazuha had to eliminate innumerable vines in order to obtain the fruit he desires, it wouldn't be beneficial for anyone, would it?

Just be good and listen to him.

[outeremissary]

I was really sleepy when I was answering asks yesterday and I almost forgot to check if you were doing the problematic oc ask too!

Balth is your oc I’m most familiar with! But if they’ve already been asked tell me about whatever critter is infecting your brain most rn 👀💖

Ahh, I appreciate the ask!! Somehow, no one did ask about him!! At any rate, I feel like this blog is full of Balthazar's sympathetic moments and not his Chaotic Fucking Evil Moments, happy to finally correct that <3

Lies constantly

Vengeful

Selfish

Past history of gold digging

Former con artist

Endorsement of experiments on animals

Enjoys watching other people suffer

Loves making people worse

Willing to sell out friends when they cease to be useful

Told a suicidal man to do a flip on the way down

Made fun of a suicidal man's family's deaths

Invades woman's memories to see her at her most vulnerable, mocks her for it

In general just willing to kick anyone when they're down

Doesn't like Regongar's puns

Profited from infant sacrifice

Murdered his own cult

Lied about having a cult

Problematic trans rep?

Accepted demonic gifts multiple times

Supported two different Lamashtu cults

Really does unconditionally forgive Tristian

Sincerely thinks Tristian did nothing wrong

(except cause problems for him but see two points above)

Funded demonic library

Misappropriation of public funds for personal projects

Harboring smugglers

Has been called the worst and most evil person in the Stolen Lands multiple times

Had a cult dedicated to him being The Worst (until he murdered them, see above)

Recruits enemies terrorizing area to work for him

Leading on poor Sharel

Frequently manipulates others into killing on his behalf

Takes credit for the work of others

Refuses to help with camp chores

Troll alliance

Hates animals

Obnoxious PDA

Abuses aasimar heritage to take advantage of others' trust

The public executions

The secret executions

Comes from working class family, often uses his success to close opportunities for others instead of opening them

Jaethal minister

Belittles Regongar's mental health problems

Ghosts Regongar instead of breaking up with him

Mocks Linzi's writing constantly

Enchantment specialist. Mind control is the way <3

Endorsement of experiments on nonconsenting wererats

Identity theft

Identity theft coverup

Asshole southern elitist, frequently belittles local culture as backwards

Propaganda

Lying to the public about a plague

Gaslighting rioters into fighting each other

24 year old bullying a 17 year old... Lander Lebeda is literally a minor

Plus that's just high key pathetic

The murders

The assassinations

Doesn't like dessert :(

Funding foreign dissidents

Endorsement of troll torture

Bad at communicating emotional needs

Using other people as shields in combat

Will throw anyone under the bus for anything

Really only heals Tristian in combat

Supports filicide for dark ritual purposes

His friendship with Jaethal in general

Problematic bi rep?

Attempted to recreate Bloom

Everything that happened during the Divorce Era

There's probably still a warrant out for him in Absalom

Due to [redacted]

Defacing a priceless historic tome (only known copy)

Anyone can die if it's for Tristian's sake

Sells out allies when they stop being convenient

Surtova supporter

Covering up Lander's death

Lander Undeath Incident

Torture is fine

I'm not even sure he seriously thinks torture works he's just horrible

Bread and circuses babyyyyyy

Mean to Nok-Nok

Literally kicked a dog

And there's an incomplete list of Balthazar Crimes! I'm sure I'm missing so, so much but honestly he's problematic more than he's not so. You know.

[prompt]

[sl33paholics]

Anon Request: Hey babes, I came across your account, and I was wondering if I could request a yandere vampire Josuke (pt 4) with a black reader AU?? Make it crazy and wild as you can, I love this man so much, thank you so much 🫶🏾

Vampire!Josuke x Black!female reader

Warning(s): Manipulation, Gaslighting, mutilation, possible cannibalism(?), sexual tension

Italics indicate flashbacks ⛱️

As the moonlight bathed the quaint castle of Astrakane, a sinister aura surrounded Josuke Higashikata, his once vibrant and pleasant behavior had taken a macabre turn, driven by a ravenous urge for the blood of his sweetheart.

Every heartbeat echoed like a symphony in Josuke's ears, drawing him closer to his addiction. His stand, "Crazy Diamond," became an extension of his vampiric abilities, enabling him to manipulate and reconstruct not only objects but also the very emotions of those around him. Josuke's dual nature as both protector and predator became harder to conceal. His internal struggle between his human heart and his vampiric desires intensified, mirroring the tumultuous battle between light and darkness that raged within him.

Josuke carefully bathes his beloved, (Y/N), in the dimly lit chambers of their castle. The flickering candlelight casts dancing shadows across the room, creating an atmosphere of both intimacy and unease. Every movement is conscious, his eyes never leaving you as he tends to your needs. His vampiric senses are magnified, acutely attuned to every sigh, every flutter of your lashes. As Josuke pours water over your skin with a delicate touch, Josuke's fingers trace the contours of your body until he reaches your breath, each caressing a testament to his devotion.

You're equally aware of Josuke's all-consuming feelings, you gaze into his eyes with a mixture of affection and apprehension. You sense the duality of his emotions, the intoxicating allure of his darkness, and the profound depth of his love.

You often find yourself questioning everything. Where did it go wrong? How long have you been here? It feels like an eternity. Do you really love him? Are you just putting up an act for a possible escape? You're smarter than this. Why aren't you running away? Sensuality and tension are a reflection of the complex dynamics between Josuke and Y/N. His once blue eyes now turned red due to the full moon, gazing down on your body as he scrubs your body. You can feel the strains of his hair touching your shoulder as you look away, facing back the wall you've been staring at since the start of this bath.

As the bath comes to an end, Josuke tenderly wraps Y/N in a soft towel, his hands lingering on her skin. The moment is a reminder of the delicate balance they must maintain, rocking on the ridge between affection and obsession, light, and darkness. "Dinner will be served after this, my love." He tells you, sending you off to the bedroom to get ready to come back for supper.

On your way out, you can't help but feel like you're being watched. But as always, you can't pinpoint what or where it's coming from. Your wet footprints are leaving a path behind you as you wobble your way to your shared bedroom with your...husband. You vividly remember a previous full moon, Josuke went berserk.

You saw this as an opportunity and decided to make a run for it. Your loud footsteps being muffled by the sound of the hard rain as the sound of your heartbeat echoes in your ears. The thought of freedom was the only thing in your mind. You wanted to be free. You wanted independence. You didn't care about the punishment that awaits if you escape, you just wanted to be away from this monster.

Your feet were hurting. Badly. The longer you ran, you felt weaker and weaker. How long were these halls? When will you see the stairs? You continued on until you fell, panting heavily. You look over to the side to your horror, a man lying there. Dead. Letting out a scream. His eyes were open but empty of life. His throat was slashed, his clothes stained with blood. Blood dripped down from his nose onto his cheek. The body of the man in front of you was riddled with stab wounds, some too deep to be healed properly. It wasn't even just one or two of them either; it seemed like they covered his whole body. Some places looked like they had been attacked multiple times. You could hear him gurgling. You were disgusted, to say the least.

All of a sudden, you felt yourself being pinned down to the ground. You look up to see Josuke violently fussing and drooling. The crazy look in his eyes said it all. He wasn't here, mentally. His long nails dig into your skin, almost causing you to bleed, the blue hair covering his face. A flash from the thunder which lights up the halls gave you a proper look at this monster. Josuke's mouth was covered with blood, and a flab of meat was hanging off. He was eating him. "...Josuke —" you noticed tears coming out. Something inside shifted. You hated how he looked. You couldn't bear to see him in pain. His vampiric instincts turned him into a bloodthirsty beast that would kill anything in sight. But this is what happened when someone didn't listen to orders. You wanted to yell at them, but...you were just too weak. "Josuke..." You whisper. You watched helplessly as the demon ate him. Tears streamed down your cheeks.

You made your way towards the dinner table in your sleepwear. Whilst you were sitting down, you noticed that Josuke wasn't here. Strange. "Josuke...?" You call out, hearing your voice echo the room. "Good evening, dinner is severed." He'd suddenly say carefully placing a bowl in front of you, making you jump. "The maids? Where are they?" "Out. They know not to be here when the full moon has arrived." Josuke say as he took a seat in front of you.

Reddish. "Beet stew. I made it myself, eat up." You couldn't focus, you didn't realize you were making a disgusted expression on your face the more you stared at it. Chunks. Multiple of them. "What's wrong...??" You quickly looked at your husband, a look of worry being plastered on your face. "Do you think my cooking is terrible? You haven't even taken a taste of it yet, Y/N." Josuke said. "I know...I know...it's just that I've never had this before and I don't know if I'd like it." You'd simply say. Anything that could be considered as harsh criticism could cost you your life, especially on this day.

"Are you saying my cooking is terrible?"

"What? No! I didn't taste it yet—"

"So why are you refusing to eat? It's vegetables. Beets can be light or dark red."

"Josuke, please, I'm not saying I already hate it if I haven't even tried it."

"The look on your face says otherwise, I spent a lot of time on that only for you to only see it as garbage. By that look you're saying that I must have bad taste when it comes to cooking."

You looked down at the bowl again. Are you really going to risk getting killed over a stew? You picked up the spoon again, taking the first bite, the flavors hitting your tastebuds. Your mouth tasted bitter, the taste was overpowering, and the more you chewed, the harder it became to swallow. The taste was similar to pork, but it felt much worse than that. "Tasty, isn't it? You get all your iron and fiber." Josuke commented as he continued to watch you eat. That stupid smile not going away anytime soon on his face.

Feeling like a prisoner in his presence, you stopped eating in an instant. "I'm...sorry, I'm sorry! I have to go..!!" As you quickly stood up, you felt a force push you back down, your breathing being out of control. "No matter how much you try to run away, you have nowhere else to go. I don't know why you do it. You clearly have nowhere else to go." Josuke chuckled, lifting your chin up to look at him. Getting lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize the spoon that was close to touching your lips in front of you.

He's right. Where could you possibly go? No friends or family to contact. No emergency services could reach your area. In fact, you don't even know the location or any locals. You're stuck here. By then, you didn't realize you took a bite of whatever was on the spoon.

For eternity.

[yanderes-galore]

Could you do Clotted Cream Cookie romantic headcannons? If so, thank you so much.

I am so rusty at Cookie Run so apologies. I had to do research on his story. His story event is way past me so I had to look hard lol. I did not see the whole event so I am sorry if I get things wrong.

You're both humans or cookies, whatever you prefer.

Yandere! Clotted Cream Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Manipulation, Deception, Overprotective behavior, Implied forced relationship, Kidnapping, Slight delusional behavior, Murder mentioned.

Clotted Cream seems like he'd be manipulative and deceptive.

He's always formal and hides his true intentions from others.

They did say he has a practiced smile....

He seems like he could be very charismatic towards his darling and others around you.

He wants to look out for the future and prepare for danger.

Even if it means hurting or lying to others to see it fulfilled

Clotted Cream is calculated and full of deceit.

He is a diplomant willing to do something harmful or immoral for his Republic.

He has a similar feeling towards his darling.

Deep down he wants to protect you and is willing to do anything for your safety.

Clotted Cream doesn't mind lying to your face and hiding his true intentions from you if it means he'll have you in the end.

Call him selfish but he feels he knows what's best for you.

After all, you most likely trust him.

His smile and words are as sweet as he himself.

He could easily get you to fall for his lies with just a wink and a compliment.

Due to his line of work, Clotted Cream can use the emotions of people against them.

Even more so with you since he has a romantic interest in you.

His flirting seems genuine because it is.

The most genuine thing coming from him is his feelings towards you.

He loves you, your looks, and your sweet personality.

Wouldn't you want a partner with his social status anyways?

He's convinced you'll come to love him, perhaps having a bit of an ego.

Clotted Cream is Manipulative, Stubborn, Overprotective, and Obsessive for the most part.

He relies heavily on his charisma towards you.

He has such a way with words you almost suspect there's nothing up.

You could say that's the benefit to being a diplomat....

It's so easy for him to lie even if he isn't trying to cause you any harm.

His goal is to get you to like him and eventually decide to be beside him.

Y'know... in the more formal and romantic sense.

Clotted Cream would also silence anyone who tried to warn you about him.

They don't need to know his plans...

This is entirely between the two of you.

Clotted Cream doesn't care how he has to silence someone.

Blackmail, threats, or even crumbling crosses his mind.

As long as they stay quiet, he's happy.

Rumors are a dangerous weapon he both doesn't mind using... but also must prevent.

Clotted Cream has a stubborn mindset.

His view on things isn't easily changed and he is very dedicated to his beliefs and delusions.

Not even his darling could change his mind.

By the time he gets you chained to his side there's no convincing him that you need freedom or privacy.

Clotted Cream is overprotective.

Dark Enchantress is not only a threat to his Republic but also you.

You need his protection, which only makes him more eager to get his hands on Soul Jam.

No one understands his ambitions.

He gets obsessive about you and his plans.

Clotted Cream always seems to have an occupied mind.

You haunt his thoughts and throw him off his game.

Clotted Cream would kidnap you like a venus flytrap.

He'd lure you in with his sweet words and smile...

Then lock you beside him in a room, smug that you fell for it.

He'd keep you chained by his side.

He hates anyone who questions his adoration towards you.

Clotted Cream has a sweet taste which hides his bitter deception...

Follow his words and you may never be able to pull yourself away from him.

[medicinanocturna]

Manipulators by the birth chart. What to look at?

Please note that the interpretations below mostly refer to the “low level” manifestation of a zodiac sign. If you don’t understand what “low level” for a zodiac sign means, please read some of my other articles. Especially this and this.

Also, the “levels” of manifestation of our planets placements can shift during our lifetime from on to another. Mostly not considerably, but sometimes - very much.

I also don't include the Lilith placements in this text, because it is manipulative by itself, but too weak to influence the chart without other planetary placements.

What makes a person a manipulator?

1. Significant Scorpio placements. Not necessarily Sun, mostly angle houses. Especially ASC. A Stellium in Scorpio. Pluto in Scorpio in the angle house. Especially the 4th/ IC (hidden manipulation) and the 10th /MC (open manipulation) are a gigantic sign! Often, these placements would indicate energetic vampirism. Here, manipulation is very much about the energy.

2. ASC or DSC in Aquarius, Aquarius Stellium. This is a mental manipulation, mostly. Playing with words and meanings more than with actions or energy. Lying without even blushing and looking very smart at the same time.

3. ASC, Mercury, or a Stellium in Pieces. Manipulation by creating confusion and then finding weak spots to turn the whole thing into a “right angle” for oneself. In the synastry chart, this is more than often expressed by lots of Neptune aspects.

4. Virgo Mercury, Venus, ASC, Stellium. Manipulation around details, and tiny details especially. Virgo Venus can also manipulate around “goodness”, “purity” and “spending not enough money” in the relationships of any kind.

5. Gemini Stellium, angle houses and Mercury in Gemini. Creating dubious situations, questioning everything, playing with words and meanings, being intentionally “super light” to emphasise something important. 

6. Leo ASC / DSC, Moon, Mercury (especially all of them at once!). Leo, in general, is NOT about manipulation, since they are “far above it”. But this is exactly the type of manipulation they tend to exercise. The “I am above it” attitude. “Pride above of all” situations that are aimed at making others feel guilty. Silent treatment or ignoring you as if you are a dust in the wind is very much the type of Leo manipulation. This is only true about the “low level” expression of the Leo sign, of course. 

7. Cancer stellium, Moon, ASC / DSC. The drama type manipulation. Playing with your emotions, but not intelligently. Can be rude and too expressive emotionally, but very needy underneath of it. 

8. Aries, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Taurus, Libra in general are NOT about the manipulation. Aries is too straightforward and raw, Sagittarius is too broad-minded, Capricorn is too serious and stiff, Taurus is too down to Earth, Libra is  about the balance more than anything else. But with some significant other placements in their charts - they can be great manipulators as well.  

All the placements above should be taken as a part of the entire picture, but with due attention to them.

Drop me a line if you want a personal look at your chart.

Yours,

AlSheren

[fxingdead]

I just wanted to say thank you for the well spoken words on the Caiti situation, as a victim myself in almost the exact same way minus the alcohol, the rhetoric going around on this situation is so incredibly harmful.

There are so many obvious logical fallacies that will now just be used on other victims after this in the impact zone of the internet involved.

People saying that if it was actually bad, then someone in the room would have put a stop to it, when bystander effect, normalized bad practices, and alcohol exists.

People saying that since George didn’t do it purposefully without consent means it isn’t SA.

People saying that if it was serious she would have gotten the justice system involved when most cases aren’t going to be prosecutable in a court of law with minimal proof, and in general often damage the victims more without an outcome that helps anyone, and is often morally objectionable due to the inhumane aspects of prison and US punishment without good rehabilitation.

People saying that she’s either too much or too little traumatized for the experience to be valid, when the incident being morally wrong doesn’t require more or less of an impact.

People saying that people supporting Caiti are saying it’s exactly the same as Shelby’s situation and because it’s not, it’s less valid, when although abuse and SA can have different scales of harm caused, doesn’t mean that SA doesn’t deserve condemnation. Weaponizing someone’s lengthy painful experience to say that we shouldn’t treat another’s seriously is awful. Her story is exactly what Shelby meant to inspire sharing, because this stuff happens in all shapes and forms.

People saying that being emotional or not describing every part in excruciating detail when coming forward for the first time is manipulative and proves bad character or smth.

People saying that because a perpetrator is drunk both sides were equally as wrong and no one can be held accountable.

People saying that cuddling, flirting, being friendly before or after, freezing, not immediately leaving, not saying no, is consent.

People saying that this must be for clout or money because subs are turned on.

People saying that George’s response was a good apology when he said that because the act wasn’t extreme for him he didn’t think much of it, and focusing on many details not actually related to the incident or on other general hatred for dteam to imply bias against them, and generally implied that he was sorry that she felt uncomfortable rather than for what he did. And accepting the apology for Caiti.

People saying that to come forward (especially while not even naming the person) was only to ruin their life, and that that’s the only thing you can get out of coming forward publicly instead of support, peace of mind from not keeping something inside so long, and awareness so other people could come forward etc.

People saying that it was wrong to not handle this privately when that isn’t a viable option for a lot of cases particularly with powerful people involved, or when what you are seeking isn’t necessarily anything from who hurt you, like this is just some petty drama.

People saying that only acts considered more “extreme” and even more sexual should be taken seriously.

People saying because she angrily laughed in her recent response and was extremely explicit about what happened to her that she couldn’t have been shy or hesitant in her first response and is lying.

People actively victim blaming and overemphasizing underage drinking because “she isn’t a victim” when this exact rhetoric will and has been used in these cases time and again and shouldn’t be brought up when SA is even in the discussion, and will be used to guilt people who see it when they become a victim.

People saying perceived consent for other acts or the same act previously is consent for another.

People now believing in an incredibly dangerous definition of nonverbal consent because of dream’s statement, when nonverbal consent has been promoted for the protection of people who go nonverbal, it has to be as clear and exact as verbal consent, either as predetermined signals with a partner, nods, or moving someone’s hand somewhere, not just interpreting body language of a drunk stranger. The whole point of the consent movement is to have signs that aren’t misinterpretable to avoid hurting your partner or someone. If someone internally does not consent, but these signs prove consent, then what is the point? If I thought the signs I was using with someone I loved or a human I respect as I living being, didn’t actually express their wishes, I’d sure as hell try something else.

People saying that because Caiti expressed these signs that they’re calling nonverbal consent that she was lying to George.

People saying that because of that, this is a false allegation and is damaging victims, and some victims weaponizing their own experience to say that Caiti isn’t a victim and should shut up.

People saying that she just changed her mind, and anyone who isn’t reacting absolutely negatively in the moment who hasn’t consented is just having self guilt and is projecting.

People saying that anything other than enthusiastic consent is consent.

More real actual victims are going to fall into one of these categories of criticism and false logic, with it being much rarer that a ‘perfect’ victim comes along by these standards, and an intricate framework for ignoring them has been developed from this incident. If dteam hadn’t promoted and encouraged all of these fallacies from the start I think Caiti could have gotten a proper response to help her move on and not be so much more damaged, and many people wouldn’t have started to see dteam as so tainted by ugliness. In that way everything they’ve done since Caiti first came forward has done perhaps more long term damage than the act itself.

Because of their bias and falling for these manipulative tactics, this audience would just as easily invalidate me, and that hurts, even as I didn’t get as hurt as Caiti and I actually got validation from the people I told and had the confidence to know it was wrong immediately even though I froze and such, all these years later, this fact somehow hurts.

Sorry for the rant, I just needed this off my chest. Thanks again.

Ofcourse it means the world to mean hearing other peoples story’s and your rant is incredibly well worded. I show my support for victims because I know how hard it is. I was always silent for the longest time but now all I can feel is anger and I want people to understand that is more complex than it actually is and you can’t always go to the authorities. When I was 9 I had my 2nd experience this one being me realizing what sexual harassment actually is. I did go to court and I talked to authorities but in the end “I was lying.” I was 9 and they expected me to give full detail on what had happened when in reality all I wanted was to play with my Barbie’s. I didn’t understand what was actually happening cause I was a child. The justice system is incredibly flawed. Sad part is I still see him when holidays come around. It’s sickening. People constantly jumping to blame the victim makes me irritated. To them no matter what you’ll do you’re never gonna be considered a real victim. The idea of how our society reacts to these topics deeply upsets me. I speak for victims who are always told be silent cause they deserve to be heard. Saying she just wants clout is ridiculous when she has so much more to lose than George does. This why most of my post are on these serious topics because I’m not allowing myself to ever be silenced again. I’m also so sorry that you had to experience something similar, I wish every victim the best healing journey. It’s important to remember you’re not alone and there’s people here who believe you and think your story is valid. No matter how big or small your story is, no matter how big or small the impact it had on you is, your story will forever be valid.

[obsessionsposts]

🦅Yandere! Nightwing (General) Headcanons🦅:

Tw: Yandere themes, Abuse of Authority, Staking, Implied captivity, Unhealthy relationship, Delusional mindset, Infantilisation, Gaslighting, Emotional manipulation.

Whether you’re a regular citizen from Blüdhaven, a fellow vigilante, or a villain that wracks havoc for a life you’re bound to meet Nightwing at some point. Amplify the chances by tenfold, if it was the latter.

He sees it as his duty to save his darling. Be it from petty thugs, other supervillains, or even themselves. That is where his delusional side shines the most. Dick views his darling as someone helpless in need of guidance and protection. He’ll gladly take the mantle, regardless if they want to or not.

He seeks in them what he lacked in his relationship with Bruce. He wishes nothing more to form an emotional connection with them and huddle them close. Out of all the batfamily, he has the most gregarious and magnetic character. Gaining their utmost respect and attention will be short and sweet due to his personality unless they were quite reclusive, even then he could find a way around the problem.

As a great detective, he is able to find anything regarding his darling. Medical records, family, hobbies, likes, dislikes, associates and everything of importance towards his goal to woo them. From the information, he could twist his personality to fit into his darling ideal person.

Nightwing will definitely find a way to burrow himself into his darling’s life to slowly manipulate it into his preferable vision of their relationship. Be it by his heroic image, or as “Dick Grayson”.

As a Nightwing, he could’ve them detained as a suspect for a crime they have not committed and no one will bat an eye or go against him due to his reputable social position amongst the people and hero alike. Whilst as Dick Grayson, he is using his charismatic disposition to sway them towards him. Or money, if they were in a desperate financial situation. Anything to help his darling, that what he thinks.

Dick is clingy as much as he is obsessive, that overlaps with his overprotective and controlling tendencies. As stated above, he sees his darling as someone weak and as such he will be someone that they can rely on. It is all good and dandy, until it extends to basic activities. Cooking? No, No. That’s too dangerous for you, darling. You can burn yourself, if that happens am I a truly good boyfriend? Let me do it, instead. Going out with friends at night? That’s fine, so long I accompany you. You never know the threats that lurks around.

If his darling argued enough, then he will begrudgingly let them leave but with an eye on their figure. Going as far as hiring thugs to send after them, then save them to show them how cruel the world around them appears to be. Maybe then, they will associate “safety” with him.

His love languages are physical affection and gift giving. With that said, Dick is mostly handsy with them. An arm hanging around their shoulders, waist, or holding their hands in his. If by any chance he was busy by his duties, then he gifts them as a means to remind that he always have them in his mind. In his leisure times, he adores cuddling them as he hears the slow rhythm of their heartbeats and how they fit perfectly within his arms.

Dick is very conscious of the emotions of those surrounding him and he can read their ticks like an open book, so he knows when his little darling is lying. Or worse, manipulating him to “escape”. Any misbehaviours will be retaliated with gaslighting and emotional manipulation. This man is a master of both; He could reward you by waxing out how much he loves adores and cherish you, alternatively he could punish by dragging you down with cold words and detached behaviours (It hurts him more than it hurts you, but how else will you appreciate him.).

Escaping is nigh-impossible for the reason above and the fact he has connections in every nook and canny to render his naughty darling from hiding for a long time. If the darling was clever enough to strike a deal with Deathstroke, then they could hope to lay low for more than a day. Rest unassured, he will be boiling with worry and anger. Not at you, no. Never at you, god you never did anything wrong in his eyes.

Yet, he never asks himself. Were you truly abducted or went willingly to get away from his overbearing hold. The mere thought terrify him as much it breaks his heart. All in all, he sees himself as your saviour and he will rescue you from your captor. (I definitely can see him have a major beef with Slade, as if they didn’t have many beefs before lmao.)

[strange-nights-rp]

Meet the Leaders - TidalClan - Wolfstar

🌊 Basic Info

Name: Wolfstar Clan: TidalClan Age: 65 Moons Gender: She-cat ⤷ She/Her 🏳️‍⚧️

🌊 Personality

Wolfstar is first and foremost intelligent. She's a quick learner and uses what she learns to her advantage. She loves to analyze and nitpick, and is incredibly meticulous in her ways. In her youth, she asked plenty of questions, always wanting to learn how the world worked, and what made other cats tick. Often lost in thought- brooding- and rambling her thoughts. She's very patient, willing to play the long con in order to get what she wants. She's unrelenting in her ways. In the end, she knows what she wants and she will do everything in her power in order to get it. Wolfstar is incredibly observant, able to pick up on the slightest tells and behaviors. A nervous twitch of whiskers, the scent of fear hidden beneath a mask of anger, shifty eyes and the slightest of smiles. She's got eyes as sharp as her wit, and she is determined to use them to her advantage. When something goes wrong, Wolfstar is quick to adapt, and always tries to work around roadblocks or unexpected disadvantages. Her mind is always working, trying to decipher what to do next. She is optimistic, seeing the best for herself and her clan. She wants to forge a better path for her clan, one that will lead them to success and is ardently passionate about that. Anyone who gets in the way of her clan's success and freedom must be eliminated.

Alongside her intelligence, Wolfstar is more importantly described as cunning. She has no qualms against lying or deceit in order to achieve her goal, and puts up a front in order to gain the trust of others. She builds a complicatedly constructed mask, one where she spins a careful web of lies in order to maintain her character. Due in part to her intricate lies, Wolfstar is definitely manipulative. She likes to play with others, their feelings and emotions- what makes them tick. She likes to stretch them as far as they can go and beats them down when things get rough.

Wolfstar is stubborn beyond belief. Once her mind is set on something, she won't change. Getting her to change her ways is a nigh impossible feat- especially if she is angered. She can be ambitious to a fault and tends to dream too big and bites off more than she can chew, much to her detriment. Wolfstar is meticulous in her ways. She's practically a perfectionist, wanting everything to be right, and trying to plan for every possible outcome that she can think of. She often spends most of her downtime planning what to do next, sometimes seeking advice from those she places her utmost trust in.

Wolfstar is definitely one to hold secrets, and hardly trusts anyone. She won't readily tell others of what she is planning unless she trusts them implicitly- which is rare and hard to come by, especially with her, who holds others at arm's length. When Wolfstar is wronged, she's known to hold a grudge for life. Revenge is a strong motivating factor, and if you hurt her, she'll hurt you worse. Her vindictive nature stems from her youth, a trait passed from bitter parents unto bitter kit. Anger is familiar, and is perhaps the only emotion she allows to really sink its claws into her heart- violence is inherent, and who is she to deny herself a reward for all her patience and planning, if not to tear her enemies apart?

Traits + Intelligent, Patient, Observant, Adaptive, Optimistic = Cunning, Meticulous, Perfectionist, Aloof – Dogmatic, Manipulative, Vindictive, Apathetic, Obsessive

Likes and dislikes + Hunting, being alone, salmon, fighting, seeing her plans come to fruition - Hot and dry weather, humidity, lightning, being ignored

🌊 Appearance

Taller than the average cat, with lanky limbs that expose the rippling muscles beneath. Her fur is deep blue with darker tabby stripes running along her back. White patches decorate her paws, chest, tail tip, ears, and the bridge of her nose. Scars both deep and shallow buffet her fur. Wolfstar possesses an oil-slick grin and icy pale blue eyes that seem to reflect the salty spray of ocean water and seafoam. She has a hulking figure, with a deliberate stance to resemble that of a wolf, with her head often kept low, much like she's stalking prey. She has an excellent nose and eyes made for tracking prey. Her claws are kept long and sharp. Due to her long legs, she has a quick-footed, confident gait that has others struggling to keep up. Her scent is purely salty, as though she just stepped out of the ocean and the salt clung to her pelt. There’s a hint of woodsmoke lying underneath.

🌊 Background

Born into a band of loners, Wolfstar originally hailed from a land far away. She grew to resent her wandering life– her parents were callous and her life unstructured, without meaning. She left the group at seven moons old, setting off on her own despite the dangers. She soon found herself in TidalClan territory, proving herself to the Clan as an excellent hunter even without traditional training. At 9 moons old, She was given the name Wolfpaw for her dark pelt and looming stature. She flourished under the mentorship of Saltfang, a strict tom that gave her the structure and purpose she needed.

As she watched the other apprentices train, she knew what she wanted: To be the best. A common apprentice dream, but she was going to take it into her own paws– she always got what she wanted in the end. She trained day and night, muscles building and refining. She honed her fighting and hunting skills and found delight in sparring and border skirmishes. She enjoyed the rush of adrenaline, the feel of a beating heart under her paws. Though she wasn’t the best swimmer by any means, she was the best land hunter among the batch of apprentices and was eventually given the name Wolfspider for her unique style of hunting and fighting: luring her target then trapping them.

The next natural step of progression for her was deputy. She volunteered to lead patrols when she could and proved herself to be a capable leader. Her lone-wolf, eerie attitude put some cats off but her adaptability and cunning put her in other cats’ favor. It wasn’t long before she was given an apprentice: Emberpaw. At 40 moons old, she was named deputy after the previous one fell ill; their healer announced her with a tremble in their voice so slight, Wolfspider could have sworn she imagined it.

She ascended to leadership at 54 moons, relishing in her new name: Wolfstar. Her leader was on his last legs; the same bought of greencough that felled their deputy felled him, too, and she gladly rose to his place.

[switchcase]

hi! do u know anything about the term “childhood torture” vs general childhood abuse manipulation and gaslighting… and mind control vs manipulation and gaslighting? some people also say though who go through childhood torture are also automatic ramcoa victims but I’m unsure abt that? if it’s done by a family and not an organization would it still be ramcoa? or what exactly is sadistic or severe abuse vs regular abuse.. bc I see a lot of people specifying ramcoa as the most severe abuse or talking about “severe abuse/trauma” vs regular abuse ..

To be honest I do not think RA/OA is the "most severe abuse" nor do I think it is particularly conducive to rank abuse on that kind of scale. Yes some stuff is objectively pretty bad but I think framing RAMCOA as "the most severe" is the exact reason that so many people are suspecting they have RA or polyfragmentation: because they think that it would HAVE to be really bad if they are experiencing the things they are, when in reality whatever it is they experienced was clearly already really bad. (And since we're on this topic, being triggered by RAMCOA or other forms of extreme abuse does not mean you are a survivor. Even nonsurvivors get triggered by this)

Also again RAMCOA is not all equivalent. A trafficking survivor will not have the same experiences as a child soldier nor are their experiences now somehow equivalent. If we insist on using a scale like this then I would say if you are alive you have not experienced the worst thing, because most "worst things" to experience will kill you.

"Childhood torture" is not really a specific term, it is just a type of experience, similar to 'sexual abuse' or 'physical abuse'. It is torture you experienced in childhood, with no other requirements.

Torture can sometimes be conducted by a single individual, though it is difficult and will not be effective for any sort of psychological control. Torture conducted this way is not for any end goal but for the perpetrator's emotional release. So not every torture survivor is a RAMCOA survivor. Most of the time, torture does have an organized abuse component, for various reasons but the most glaring one being the amount of resources required to torture a person without anyone else finding out, which is why many torture survivors are RAMCOA survivors. Torture typically has both a physical and psychological component. Gaslighting is not torture. Manipulation is not torture. Gaslighting and manipulation can be a part of torture but there is kind of a big difference between something like waterboarding versus gaslighting. Legally, torture is very loosely defined but this is more due to the wide variety of methods people come up with in torture that courts want to be able to define as torture, not that torture is itself vague or difficult to differentiate. For example, forcing people to drink until they get water poisoning and slowly die is a documented form of torture. Which is a really weird thing to do and probably not something a court could come up with listing if they wanted to do a list of actions that qualify as torture. An example of psychological torture would be being forced to watch or participate in someone you love being tortured or killed.

The term severe sadistic abuse is really hard because it IS vague but there is not really a good way to term it without getting into details that can be triggering. Severe sadistic abuse in academic writings includes torture and terrorism survivors, and frequently cites the Holocaust as an example. If that gives you a good baseline idea of what the line is. I think when discussing academic terms it is important to remember that terms are created because they serve a function. If severe sadistic abuse was equivalent to gaslighting, manipulation, they would not have created the term because both emotional and psychological abuse already exist as terms. For example, gaslighting is only a term because it is not just lying but an explicit and intentional attempt to manipulate someone's perception of themselves and their reality and make them reliant on an abuser to tell what is true or not. If "lying" or "manipulation" fit then there would be no need for the term.

[agravemistake13ghosts]

Emily March

An In-Depth Character Analysis

Ghost Form:

Like all ghosts, she lacks skin pigmentation and has grey shadows around her eyes as well as a visible grey hue to her lips. Her feet are bare but splattered with blood as is most of her legs which are visible from the knee down. She wears the same purple dress she was wearing the night she died, her wrists marred by the deep vertical cuts that took her life. The post-mortem photographs taken of her reveal that her back was scattered with bruises and various cuts and scrapes, likely from one or several of her eleven victims fighting back.

Killer Classification:

Spree Killer:

A spree killer is someone who commits a criminal act that involves two or more murders in a short time, often in multiple locations. Being present during Royce's death and then seeing his body caused her to have a psychotic break. She purposely chose 11 people she knew her half-brother cared about - one of which was her own friend, Caroline Cooper - hunting and stabbing each of them 11 times with a Buck 119 knife over a span of 11 days. Her spree started Monday, October 14th, 1957 and she killed one person each night, coming to an end on Thursday, October 24th, 1957.

Her mask (Drawn by me):

Personality:

On the surface, Emily was kind. She was a good friend, a wonderful listener, and a talented musician. She was fiercely intelligent. A trait she inherited from her great-grandfather, Ryan, along with his photographic memory, and black as pitch hair. While she had a good heart, it could also be uncontrollable, very similar to Royce's lack of self-control.

Because of her empathetic nature, she never hesitated to help those in need of it, treating all with warmth and respect. Even if she didn't say a word, her feelings were easy to read due to her honest expressions, which caused those around her to soften in tough situations and be honest as well. Even with this, she wasn't without her flawed, quirky, and immature side, which was typical of her age.

Emily was, despite her relatively small size and the time period she was born and raised in, headstrong and outspoken, possessing what some would say was a pathological fearlessness when it came to defending her friends or herself. She also wasn't afraid to be violent when the situation called for it and was a capable fighter.

She was never afraid to voice her mind about what was "right" and what is "wrong," making her somewhat opinionated and stubborn. She eventually learned to not see the world in black or white, becoming the one others turn to when they need emotional support or advice as she can be direct and make hard but valid points, even to a friend. Still, Emily was unforgiving of anyone who betrayed or disappointed her. She could also be manipulative at times, easily telling people what they want to hear or lying to get Royce out of trouble.

Though she was usually calm and compassionate, Emily had a surprising hidden violent side to her when her short temper was brought into play. Her half-brother tended to be the only one who brought this out in her due to his violent and ill-mannered nature which she never tolerated or had any patience for. She is completely comfortable reacting violently to his instigations, believing wholeheartedly that his reasons for hating her are pathetic and make him an incredibly weak person. She could also be vindictive and harsh in her dealings with him, one time remarking quite cruelly that she was their father's favorite child (which was true) and that it was never her fault that her mother loved her while Johnny's fled the moment she had him and started a new life pretending he never existed.

Emily was in love with Royce Clayton. A love he returned just as fiercely. She was present during the drag race that took his life and it traumatized her deeply. The compounding shock of seeing his body and the added knowledge that Johnny was going to go unpunished was too much for her and Emily suffered a psychotic break, channeling all of her grief and anger into a masked vigilante persona that the newspapers would come to call, "The Madison Ripper."

For eleven nights in a row, the Ripper terrorized Madison, Ohio, claiming a life each night. As the Ripper, Emily was malicious, calculating and brutal, specifically targeting those her brother was fond of and taking their lives with a Buck 119, inflicting 11 stab wounds with precision and bloody resolve. The sheriff of the town at the time, Donald Rafkin, was a psychic. Due to his suspicion of her, he attempted to do a reading when he went to see how she was doing. He could glean nothing. She was blank. Empty. Nothing inside. Royce's murder had robbed her of her will to live as well as anything else that had made her an individual.

Even after her vengeance was complete and the Ripper was retired, Emily felt no reprieve from her agony. Seeing no relief, and tired of the pain consuming her every fiber, she murdered her brother, stabbing him a grand total of 26 times before cutting his throat. She then returned home and turned the blade on herself.

In total, she outlived Royce by fifteen days.

Relationship with Royce Clayton:

One of the defining relationships in Emily's life was the one she shared with Royce Clayton. As their mothers had been lifelong best friends, the two were born relatively close together, with only a ten day difference.

Royce was born on March 23rd, 1940. He is an Aries, which definitely suits him. It was clear from a young age that Royce had temper issues, putting Johnny's head through a window when he was just four years old - despite the fact that Johnny was two years older - as well as hurling a block at the back of another child's head when they pulled Emily's hair. Despite this troubling behavior, Emily never batted an eyelash, merely learning to look out for signs of an impending tantrum and find ways to calm him down. If that failed, she would just find a way to keep him out of trouble afterward. Since Emily could smell lies and tell even better one's, this tended to be successful more often than not.

Royce driven by a fierce, persistent determination to win in every aspect of his life. However, his volatile emotions could often drive him to behave childishly and become tiresome to his friends at times. Royce was incredibly hotheaded and easy to upset, often striking out with his fists toward the source of his annoyance. He even occasionally got nasty with girls if they irritated him. This was particularly true about Caroline Cooper, one of Emily's best friend's and the most annoying out of the three. His dislike of her was no secret to her as he had told her he hated her to her face before walking off like nothing happened. Royce was also impatient by nature and could be very prideful, having much difficulty admitting he was wrong about something.

With the onset of puberty, their close friendship became a crush which evolved into love. Despite discovering his talent for baseball in his freshman year of high school as well as becoming suddenly very popular with girls, Royce paid no attention to them, often exhibiting annoyance with their persistence, solely seeking Emily's attention, desiring her affection and love, truly believing that she was the only person that loved him completely, illustrating that he had enough self-awareness to know that his ego and anger problems made him a hard person to feel genuine affection for, the superiority complex he exhibited hiding his true feelings of inferiority and failure.

Emily never minded, encouraging him when he hit a low, doing his homework when he was too exhausted from everything else to do it himself, calming him down when he lost it with an endless supply of patience, and giving him the love and affection he desired, easily managing to put him back into place without fear of reprisals if he overstepped in her outside relationships. Luckily, unlike a lot of girls in her time period, she didn't really have to worry much about Royce being jealous or possessive since he knew it was illogical to expect her to just ignore every guy that talked to her. He trusted her enough to tell him if one overstepped.

As a result of his love for her, Royce became fiercely protective of Emily, saying to his best friend and teammate, Andrew, that "if anything ever happened to her, I would die." He would often turn his anger on her friend's if she got hurt when she was with them. Even going so far as to throw one of his classmates to the ground when they accidentally knocked her into the chalkboard.

Royce told Susan during their first captivity that the hardest part of dying was watching Emily fight against her friends hold on her as she tried to get to him. To help him. The sight of her tears had hurt more than the torn skin on his body. He had been grateful for the superheated air stealing his breath, knowing that every scream for help he gave was a dagger to her heart.