#i hope i have permanently altered your experience

[maschotch]

Need you to know that every single time I watch 5x18 I think of “gay sex is less gay than whatever these guys got going on” “usually pairings don’t matter but these guys fucked and that’s the hill I’ll die on” “they’ll be like ‘can I talk to you’ and go 30 minutes to a scenic location w ambience”

I physically cannot watch the ep without these tags running through my brain on a straight loop. Like wow yeah they do know their assholes are gonna get obliterated when they get back, so true

GOOD bc those men r fuckin fr

[hannieehaee]

titfucking

content: smut, established relationship implied, titfucking, mentions of cum-eating, etc.

wc: 697

a/n: this just came to mind at some point lol i hope u guys like it

masterlist

seungcheol -

commandeers you all throughout it despite his composure being on a very thin thread. no matter how hard he tries to fight the effect your tits around his cock have on him, he'd end up cumming faster than usual, crying out your name and begging you to give him a repeat of this as soon as he got hard again.

jeonghan -

yoon jeonghan? stuttering and out of breath? unheard of! only time you may ever see this side of jeonghan is when you get on your knees, lower your tank top and wordlessly offer up your tits for fucking. he'll stutter and make a fool of himself as he nods along, thanking you under his breath for wrapping those pretty tits around him.

joshua -

one of the only times in which he'd take a subby position in the bedroom. his obsession with your body would manifest itself in such an obvious way as he praised and worshiped you for making him feel so good in such a filthy manner.

jun -

absolute boob man, which means the idea might likely kill him on the spot. the mere mention of fucking your tits has him almost cum untouched. always comes extremely quickly at just the sight of his cock in between your breasts, giving you a huge upper hand.

soonyoung -

his eyes stick to your tits any time you're shirtless around him, and the same would occur when you gave him the grand privilege of wrapping them around his dick. he's a little extra loud and sensitive when he gets to fuck your tits, usually losing all ability to think the moment the idea is brought up.

wonwoo -

kind of a little more nonchalant about it when its first brought up but a total mess once you actually pull out his cock and begin lining it up between your tits. becomes a pathetic and desperate mess as he watches you do as you please with his cock.

jihoon -

goes insanely red and stammers for a whole minute before being able to express how down he was for the idea. this would become the main event in every late night fantasy he had about you whenever you were away from now on. he'd quite literally cry at the pleasure and sight.

seokmin -

eyes crossed and hands crumpling the sheets between his fingers. a bit of drool coming from the corner of his mouth at the feeling of your sleek tits (sleek from his cum ofc) suffocating his cock. prettiest cries known to man as he tries to praise you in between moans. is literally crying by the end of it.

mingyu -

a chorus of yeses fills the room as he enters an overly excited state, grabbing you by the hand and leading you to your room. in less than a minute you'd both be undressed and he'd be hard as a rock. would babble and drool throughout the whole experience, begging you to do it every so often.

minghao -

chuckled at you for having such a filthy idea. very down for it, but not too outwardly enthusiastic. would want to keep some sort or control during it since you are on your knees for him and everything. would have to use up all his strength to keep his composure.

seungkwan -

genuinely wonders if you have ulterior motives to kill him. you offering such a filthy thing would make him lose his mind. any last bit of sanity he may have had would leave his body when you actually put him between your breasts. would practically black out during it.

vernon -

something he's always wanted to try with you but felt too shy to ask. when you first bring it up, he literally starts choking on the food he was eating. disregards his near-death experience to drag you to your room so you can permanently alter his life with your tits around his cock.

chan -

moans out loud at the suggestion. needs it and needs it now, no matter what other plans you may have had prior. cums embarrassingly fast but makes up for it by licking his cum off your chest and worshiping your body for hours on end.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Getting Thrashed

Female Alpha Yandere x Male Omega Reader (CW: Noncon/dubcon, heat cycles, scent kink, pheromones, non-traditional a/b/o dynamics, NO mpreg, enslaved reader, conquered society, general yandere behavior, teasing, biting, claiming, space pirates) Word Count: 3.4k (WOW, sorry that took so long. I started off writing fast because I loved the idea then lost motivation halfway through. Hope you guys enjoy the second female yandere fic I have written and the first one I have written with smut. Also first fic I have written where the reader penetrates the yandere.)

Your day on the space colony of Nithyal started out like any other. You diligently did your assigned work of farming a wide array of essential foods for the colony.

It was pretty vigorous manual labor, but you didn't mind. You rather enjoyed the scent of fresh soil and ripe fruits.

And you were fairly compensated. Everyone was in Nithyal. After all, the colony was on the planet Solstan. And it wasn't called a paradise world for nothing. The weather was agreeable, there were few dangerous animals, and everyone lived harmoniously. No homelessness, no corruption, no hunger, no violence. You were very grateful to live in such a place.

Especially since you were an omega.

Many generations ago, human fertility was greatly diminishing. In a bid to save the species, there were numerous fertility experiments.

One of the most extreme experiments that altered human DNA and psychology the most resulted in two new variants of humans: Alphas and Omegas.

They were both given extreme fertility, but what good is being fertile if you just end up with a barren partner?

So they were both given heightened olfactory senses, with omegas being given genes to produce pheromones that alphas were attracted to and vice versa.

They were also capable of quickly forming intense bonds with their romantic/sexual interests.

But the biggest difference from unaltered humans was that alphas entered ruts and omegas had heats. These periods of ultra high libido were to make sure they were compelled to procreate.

The gene editing was not without unintended consequences.

Alphas tended to be larger, stronger, and more aggressive than normal people, and omegas had a tendency to be smaller and a bit more submissive.

Alphas also tended to be possessive and jealous, even going so far as almost always needing to mark their mate with a permanent bite.

These behavioral concerns lead to the discontinuation of the program. Specifically, concerns about omegas maintaining their agency when faced with such forceful alphas that could easily sniff them out.

Human fertility was restored through more refined gene editing later, with suppressants being developed for the humans already altered and their descendants so they could mask themselves.

Heats and ruts were only partly suppressed, though and it wasn't too hard for someone to discover who was an omega when their life was put on hold in a predictable pattern once every few months.

It wasn't ideal, since most people hated such altered humans.

But Nithyal was different. Everyone just cared about each other and didn't bother with any judgement.

There was no better place in the galaxy.

That was... until the dark day that a pirate fleet came from the deepest reaches of known space to upend everything.

They were called The Eternal Eclipse. And they certainly eclipsed any joy you found in Nithyal.

Your people tried to mount a defense, fighting bravely with the few ships and ground to air weapons that were available, but given their numbers there was no chance of victory.

Your colony was pretty isolated from the rest of civilization so once conquered there was little chance of liberation.

They quickly killed or at least maimed anyone who tried to fight back or organize a rebellion.

The colonists had become little more than slaves.

Many continued the hard labors they had before, with more demand to support the new ruling population, others were forced into personal servitude for the higher up pirates, and a decent chunk of the population became personal fuck toys.

At first, when the pirates had gathered up all of the colonists to assign them their fates, you were mercifully going to continue the work that you had already been doing.

But unfortunately you somehow caught the eye of Thrash and for some reason she had taken a liking to you. So instead of cultivating plants, you were forced to be by her side all day as a simple servant. This probably wouldn’t have been too bad if the violent leader didn’t happen to be, against all odds, an alpha.

You had never met one before but you could tell right away. Her scent, her attitude, the fact that she was larger and stronger than most adult men. She had hair like fire and an energy and attitude to match.

At first you were worried that she had pegged you for an omega, but she gave no indication that she knew. You were in constant fear that your omega nature would be discovered. It wasn't unheard of for omegas to be brutally raped, sold to far off black markets, or even just outright killed. Surely if she had known you wouldn’t just be a personal slave.

It seemed that your suppressants were enough to completely hide yourself from her, and you had a huge supply of them. Though you knew for a fact that once your heat started, your pheromones would poke through. And you’d also be rather horny. Maybe you could feign illness and cover yourself in perfume?

That was probably your best bet. Though you hoped no one would notice that you got ill like clockwork. Luckily you still had plenty of time until your next heat.

Working for Thrash wasn’t too physically demanding, you just had to clean up after her, prepare meals, and do little odd tasks like deliver a note or something to one of her subordinates. You actually got a lot of down time between tasks… though you always had to stay nearby in case Thrash needed something.

The overworked farmers would have surely enjoyed such a relatively cushy work detail, but it was absolute hell for you. It was like walking on eggshells, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Thrash hadn’t treated you poorly, never hit you. But you had no idea how an omega would be treated.

It was especially scary when she decided to tease you, just because she enjoyed watching you squirm.

When she licked your neck in the cafeteria in front of all her dining pirate crew she cackled at how your face turned red and you got as still as a statue as your brain shut down. You were terrified that she could smell or even taste the omega on your skin.

Thrash didn’t really know why but something in her made her love flustering you. She just couldn’t help it. She had always enjoyed making men uncomfortable or putting them in their place, but you were a bit different. It wasn’t like it was with her male pirate colleagues, where she strove to be the best and made them obey her. No, this was different, seeing your face turn red made her hungry for more.

One night she dismissed you with a smack on the ass and let you go to bed while she stayed up drinking with her best buddies. You felt humiliated and rushed off to your room, which was one that was in the house she had claimed for herself in case she needed you for something she wanted you close by. You were really like a live-in maid.

You tidied up a few things before washing up and going to bed, still embarrassed about having your butt touched in public. Despite that you managed to go to sleep pretty quickly.

Though a few hours later a very drunk Thrash comes stumbling in drunk. You wake up with a jolt and nearly jump out of your bed as a strong arm wraps around your waste and firmly pulls you close.

“Mmm where ya goin cutie? Ya need to stay close to yer alpha!”

She lightly grinded into you for a moment, her crotch against your ass before stopping and nuzzling into your neck.

“Thr-Thrash… uh… I think you accident-”

She shushed you by licking your neck and nibbling a bit. You went still as stone. If she broke the skin the special enzymes in her alpha saliva would cause you to have a permanent mark. Fortunately that didn’t happen, instead remaining content with sloppy kisses, sucking, and gentle nibbling.

You couldn’t help but let out a series of little whimpering moans at the sensation. You also became aware of just how nice she smelled. So dominant. Kinda… safe…

She chuckled at your noises.

“Haha, you’re practically a tiny defenseless omega!”

That made you shake the thoughts and distractions from your mind. This woman was not safe. She stole your home and turned you into a glorified slave. If she knew what you were she’d sell you to the highest bidder!

Luckily after that comment she had passed out in a drunken stupor.

You managed to extricate yourself from her grasp before scrambling to get to the restroom. You had to double check to make sure that the bites that Thrash had so kindly applied to your neck had not broken the skin, luckily they hadn’t.

But you still looked absolutely horrible. Your neck was covered in little hickeys, your hair was a mess, and you were so shaky from the rude awakening that you could barely stand.

Something about looking so debauched made your cock hard. Maybe it was because you had her alpha stink all over you or maybe it was something to do with the bites all over your neck. Maybe it was just because you weren’t used to the attention.

It didn’t matter why the result was the same, you had to do something about this almost painful arousal. And the scent that clung to you.

As you got in the shower you gave your cock the attention it was demanding, thinking filthy and shameful thoughts about Thrash. You tried to pleasure yourself to other thoughts but your mind kept drifting back to the oppressor of your people and the way she smelled as she bit and drooled all over your neck.

You couldn’t spill until you imagined her leaving a permanent claiming bite on your neck.

After your shower you felt dirtier than you had before you got in. You reminded yourself that you hated Thrash and that she and her crew had done to upend the lives of you and your people. It wasn’t your fault she made you aroused. What omega wouldn’t have been after that?

After you got dressed and left the bathroom you wrapped your spare blanket around you and slept in the chair in the corner of the room, you would have rather not been in the same room as the drunk alpha, but you had nowhere else you could go.

When Thrash woke up she found you sleeping soundly in the room and it took her a moment to realize she wasn’t in her room. She must have kicked you out of your bed. She did feel kinda bad about it, but she figured you would live. She was the one with the massive headache.

She went back to her quarters, leaving you to sleep a bit longer.

When you woke up you found her, thankfully gone, you wrapped a scarf around yourself to hide your neck, the weather was cool lately so no one should give a second thought to you wearing one. Then you left to start your day of servitude as you did everyday.

Unfortunately for you, you had to accompany her as she went on one of the landed ships to see what the problem was with it since she had originally been a mechanic and engineer. It was very hot in the engine room.

“How are you wearing that scarf? It’s so hot in here.” The heat wasn’t the only problem you were dealing with, she was sweating and only wearing a tank top, allowing her musk to practically smother you.

It didn’t really take all that long for you to get more than a bit dizzy and flustered. And once you were, it took even less time for Thrash to notice, she often kept an overprotective eye on you, though you had rarely noticed.

She came stomping over and looked down at you.

“I told you it was too hot for that! You’re gonna get sick dumbass! Take it off and let’s go outside for some fresh air.”

You fidgeted under her gaze and mumbled that you were okay.

When you didn’t take it off immediately she growled, jerked you over to her, and yanked it off of you.

She stared wide-eyed at your neck, not remembering having put the marks there herself the night before. And she was fucking livid.

“When the fuck did you hook up with someone, you fucking slut!? You belong to ME and I didn’t give you any permission for that shit!”

The enraged alpha slapped you hard across the cheek, making you yelp and stumble to the ground. You were sobbing and could scarcely manage to croak any words out.

“I-i d-d-didn’t l-let anyone d-do-”

Had one of her men defiled you against your will? Defiled HER slave?

“Tell me who did it!! I’ll cut their dick off and shove it up their own ass!”

Her eyes were like a cats, narrow slits. Your naturally submissive instincts told you to put your head down and obey anything the near feral alpha might demand of you.

“Y-you were dr-dr-drunk and b-bit me last night…”

Tears were leaking down your face. If you had not been on suppressants your scent would surely be one of fear mixed with pheromones to calm down this beast.

That’s right, she had woken up with a bad hangover in your room...

Thrash stared at you, at this tiny crying man in front of her, crying and terrified. She felt awful, and she didn’t often feel bad about her actions. She was a pirate, but for some reason she just didn’t like seeing you suffer at all. Certainly not because of her.

“Fuck… I’m… sorry…” She managed to say as she knelt down and rubbed your back.

“I really have no memory of last night...”

The large powerful woman picked you up easily, with your head nuzzled into her neck, crying into her.

“C’mon crybaby, let’s get you cooled off, I’ll deal with this engine later~”

She carried you carefully back to your room in the housing building, collecting odd looks as she did, which she quickly got rid of with a glare each time.

Thrash placed you into your bed and felt your head with the back of her hand. Despite not having the scarf, having been exposed to the cool outside air on the way over here, and now being in an air conditioned room you were hotter than ever.

Your mind was getting foggier and when she left to go get a cool rag and some medicine from the bathroom you finally realized why you were so hot. You were entering heat. The neck stimulation and all of Thrash’s dominant behavior over you must have somehow triggered an early one.

You had to leave before she came back and smelled it. It would only be a matter of moments before the smell broke through your suppressants.

Something in your brain was telling you to just stay there and let your alpha come back and take care of you, but the other much more grounded in reality part of your brain was telling you you had to hide in a utility closet somewhere and deal with the consequences of your absenteeism later. Better than being sold off or raped by every pirate who wants to try out an omega.

Right then you really wished suppressants just completely eliminated heats completely instead of just diluting them a bit.

Right after you had that thought Thrash entered the room and saw you standing by the door, you saw her hand had a bottle of pills. Though her search in your medicine cabinet yielded no fever reducers she found something else hidden away under your sink. Your suppressants.

And then your scent hit her. It was dulled by your medication, but she was an alpha unused to omega pheromones in any capacity.

She growled low and her pupils were like slits as her stare bored into you angrily.

“You’re MY property! And you’re keeping secrets from ME!?”

Before you could stumble out the door she charged at you, picked you up and slammed you down on the bed a bit harder than she had intended. You looked away, unable to meet her domineering and angry gaze. Your only response was to instinctively whimper in submission to placate her rage.

Thrash sniffed you, inhaling your scent from your underarm to your neck. You leaned your head over to give her easier access and show that you submitted to her will. You were terrified and she could certainly smell it.

Some of her drool dripped onto your neck as she hovered above it, licking you tentatively to calm you down. She was going to bite you and make you into her personal fuck toy and mate, she was mad that you had hidden your nature from her, but she would never hurt you.

Thrash sucked and nibbled at the gland in your neck, with you gracing her ears with a new whimpering gasp or moan each time she touched the sensitive spot.

Your terror evaporated quickly, replaced by heat fueled desire. And if you were honest with yourself maybe not all of the yearning was born from your heat.

The lust filled alpha couldn’t help but inhale your scent over and over, it was literally a drug for her. She had already wanted to fuck you into oblivion even before she got a whiff of you in heat, but now there was no stopping herself. Already she couldn’t wait to drink in your smell during your next heat when your suppressants were out of your system.

She made a mental note to flush them after this.

The pirate rubbed your crotch, palming at your erection, getting you even more aroused before she bit your neck. Hard. Her fangs pumping into you something that would make you smell claimed to any other alphas and leaving a large permanent hickey on that portion of your neck.

You moaned out loud in painful pleasure, arching your back and thrusting your clothed arousal into her hand.

Thrash licked your bleeding wound and then turned her attention to your cock and her own pleasure.

You could only stare and writhe in need as she pulled away from you and took off her clothes.

“Gimme a second, I just need to get our clothes off!”

It was the first time you had seen her breasts. You were in awe of this figure above you. So strong and assertive. So beautiful. A perfect partner.

To her you were the beautiful one. So sweet and pretty and perfect put in your place below her.

She practically ripped your clothing off and buried herself back in your neck as she brought herself down on you, enveloping your entire length in the warmth of her cunt. Her hands pushed down your shoulders as she rode you.

Your pleasured moans mixed with her grunts and growls as she fucked you until you saw stars. Your first orgasm was really quick, and was not nearly enough for either of you. Another perk of heats, insatiable libido.

With each of her downward movements you thrust upwards, desperate to get as deep as possible, the scent of her aroused pheromones combined with your heat making you absolutely unable to care about anything else.

You didn’t care that she had conquered your people or that she controlled them. In this state it only made her stronger in your eyes. A more suitable mate. You wanted to fill her up with so many babies.

The sex lasted hours, until the both of you were too sore to keep moving. It finally ended with you clinging to her and using her tits as a pillow with her arm wrapped around your protectively.

When the fog of pheromones and heat left your brain you were horrified by what had happened. But if you weren’t owned by her before, the new mark on your neck meant you certainly were now, and she would never let you go.

[imababblekat]

Scars That Bind

**WARNINGS**: implied ptsd, scarring, angst (but w/ happy ending)

~~~~~~~~

@httpvomitello ,"Hi Hi, how are you? So I was wondering if you could do a one shot with Donnie x f! reader who is his girlfriend. It would be after the event of the second film, where she helps with the fight and everything. However, she ends up with a big scar on her back, but she never got around to revealing it to the others because she was ashamed to show it, and because of that, in those weeks she almost didn't let Donnie touch her, whether it was a hug or a kiss. Until one day, he accidentally sees the scar, and after her explanation, he comforts her and things get better.

A/N: oh boy this is much longer than i had planned it to be! hope y'all still enjoy though! im just gonna go cry in a corner after having written this ╮(T▽T)╭

~xXx~

It had been weeks, and yet the events of the Kraang attacks still effected you. Effected your life. It hadn't been as often as early on, but you still had nightmares. Still awoke sweaty and fearful from a nightmare that played out way differently and more devastating than how the real battle had ended victoriously. Well, mostly victoriously. Yes, the four ninja brothers you had helped and fought alongside went home with some new scars that they would no doubt proudly brandish, but the one you took home made you feel anything but proud. Anything but strong like how the turtles felt about theirs.

The large, healed but still freshly ugly wound across your middle back would be a forever reminder of how things could have gone terribly wrong for you that day. You were lucky to make it out alive in the end, but you had not only been physically scarred, but mentally as well.

What if you hadn't made it out of that slippery situation? What if it had happened and then Donnie, your everything, wouldn't have even known, to busy off fighting the big bad boss? How could you leave him, leave everyone, so suddenly in your foolishness to be more than what you were? A fragile human, trying to be a hero like her mutated boyfriend who had been training to fight his entire life?

The near death experience left you thinking and imaging the worst nearly every waking moment, and it seemed to effect more than just your lonesome. It had started to effect your relationship with Donnie. You can't remember the first moment it happened, but you remember every other time you had rejected his touches. The poor man couldn't get a kiss from you, much less a hug, and he had no idea why. The hurt in his eyes always tugged at your heart strings, but not as much as if he were to find out about the permanent alteration to your body.

If he found out, he would surely blame himself for not being there to protect you. Something you wanted him to not do. He along with his super brothers had more pressing things to be worried about, not a single human when they had the whole of New York on their shoulders. Your horrific dreams of death had also instilled in you that very great possibility of just how much danger you truly were in being with them. Yes, it was something that you had all known. April, Casey, and even Vern were just as in likely danger simply by being friends with the turtles, but no one really realizes the weight of something till it comes crashing down on them. Like it had to you.

If one day something happened to you, you didn't want to leave behind a deeply heartbroken and changed Donnie. Making distance would surely make such a casualty easier to deal with if there was nothing no longer there right?

Right?

You chocked on a sob, eyes screwed shut with clasped hands against your reddened face. The staggered cry quietly echoed off your bathroom walls, the only other sound being the slight slush of water in the tub you had planned to get into before you had caught a glance of the cursed marking on your back in the mirror. Now, you sat on the edge, trying your best to reason with your recent actions, but your heart and subconscious knew the truth and would not let you get away so easily.

Images of Donnie's hurt face only a couple hours ago still projected freshly in your mind. The pain in his eyes when you stepped back from his open embrace and rejected his goodbye kiss before you departed for home. You've seen the genius sad before, but never had you seen him so dejected. Knowing that you were the cause, hurt even more.

"But it's for his own good.", you sobbed aloud.

Than why did it feel so wrong?

Suddenly, something had fumbled and hit the tiled floor loudly, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin as you swiftly turned on the edge of the tub to see the last person you wanted to in this exact moment.

There, standing in the entrance straight as a pillar and eyes so wide they might pop out of his head, was Donatello. He had come to return back your phone, that of which he had called deciding it was finally time to talk about your standoff behavior towards him when it rang from the lair lounge. Now though, a call to work out the reason was no longer warranted, the off color patch of new skin and flesh on your back still crystal clear in his mind.

"I. . .", Donnie faltered, one usually a dictionary of speech, now speechless.

You on the other hand, were much more reactive. Your heart picking up pace, as you were quick to grab your towel and wrap it around, stepping out of your forgotten bath and racing to get out of this situation.

"I-I wondered if I had forgotten that, thanks Don, you can go-"

You had tried and failed to push your way past Donnie after swiftly grabbing your phone off the bathroom floor, but the turtle in purple was much faster and had grabbed hold of your arm just as you entered the hallway.

"How. . .how long have you. . .", Donnie swallowed, still struggling to find the words.

You felt your heart drop in your chest seeing the agony in Donnie's knowledgeable gaze.

"Donnie, please. . .", you mutter barely above a whisper, lip beginning to quiver.

"When you said you went to the hospital to check on a friend, did you really go for yourself?", he questioned, brows furrowed as he looked down at you, but you were careful to avoid his gaze.

You tried to pull your arm from his grasp, but Donnie held firm. He wasn't letting you go this time.

"(Y,n), please, I'm just trying to understand."

"There is nothing to understand.", you gritted out, angry with yourself for the tears that threatened to spill once again.

"How could you say that? You have a-"

"I know!", you finally snapped, glare flashing up towards Donatello.

Said turtle was stunned, but soon relaxed his expression, slowly letting go of your arm to take a step back. You cursed yourself internally, looking back to your hallway's carpet and holding yourself tight. A moment of tense silence befell the both of you, neither speaking and both refusing to look at the other. Your heart ached, and so did his, but it was not you who apologized first.

With a tight throat, Donnie was first to speak quietly.

"I'm sorry. . ."

"Don't say that.", you thought to yourself, another stinging pang shooting straight through your chest. Fighting back the urge to cry, you shook your head, chancing a glance at your slumped boyfriend.

"No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. It's just. . ."

Donnie looked up just as you looked down the hall, but your gaze was else where. It was a look he was all to familiar with, one he'd seen after terrifying incidents he and his brothers had experienced.

"Is that why you've been so distant?"

By that, you knew Donatello meant your scar.

The reference broke you, nodding as you started to sob and weep, new tears making new streaks down your face. Donnie muttered a quiet 'oh', opening his arms as you quickly crossed the short distance to fall against his plastron. The moment his strong arms wrapped around you, your heart had exploded, cries racking your body as you sobbed loudly, not caring if the neighbors heard. It had been so long since you had embraced each other, since you had been this close to the person you fell so deeply in love with, that the sensation of Donnie holding you felt as though you had finally returned home after an arduous journey across rough seas.

The entire time you cried Donnie stood cradling you, rubbing your arms softly and murmuring quiet whispers of "its okay" and "let it out" against the top of your messy hair. Neither of you knew how much time had passed, Donnie undoubtedly willing to hold you up if your legs no longer could, but soon you had calmed, only letting out shaking breaths and a few soft sobs here and there. Once you felt you had regained enough strength you gingerly used Donnie's strong plastron as leverage to push your self back, just enough to still remain close but also peer up into his worried gaze.

"I'm sorry Donnie. I never wanted to hurt you. I was so scared about how something happening to me would effect you, when I've been causing you that pain this entire time. I'm so, so sorry Donnie.", you choked out, feeling as though you were ripping off a band-aid and at the same time having heavy weights lifted from your shoulders.

"Oh, (y,n).," Donnie muttered, reaching up to move a strand of hair from your sticky, tear stained face. "I only wish I had realized sooner what you were going through. You shouldn't have faced this alone. I should have been there to help."

You bit your bottom lip, shaking your head slowly.

"No Donnie, that's exactly part of why I acted the way I did. I don't want you to blame yourself for what happened."

Donnie's grip on you tightened, a pit forming in his chest. That scar. It grabbed him by the throat and had him in a choke hold the second he stepped into your bathroom. When had you gotten it during the Kraang attack? Were you alone the whole time? How did you get such a wound?

Donatello had to be quick to stop his thoughts before they spiraled into picturing unsavory images of just how exactly you had been hurt. He hated it, this revelation that something seriously bad had happened to the person he loved and he wasn't there to do anything about it. If he'd lost you, he'd surely would have lost himself.

Leaning forward with tightly shut eyes, holding back his own tears for your sake, Donnie's lips pressed firmly to your forehead before slowly pulling back. His beautiful gold eyes found yours, a comforting smile gracing his features as you tiredly peered back at him inquisitively.

"Sorry, dove. I can't say that I won't, but I promise I'll try to as long as you promise me something."

"Anything, Donnie."

"Promise me that you'll always remember I'm here for you. That you can come to me about anything, and to please let me help fight your battles with you, just as you so bravely have done for me."

Your lips formed into a smile, the first genuine one in who knows how long. Your head fell against Donnie's strong chest once more, your arms squeezing him this time and feeling your soul being filled with a warm, positive feeling for once as the tallest ninja turtle returned your embrace with just as much love.

"I promise.", you spoke just above where Donnie's heart lay protected by plastron, the feeling of another gentle, loving kiss being placed against the top of your hair.

~xXx~

[biblio-smia]

Hiiii! Love your work! This is gonna be a lengthy I apologize in advance lol. Do you think you can pls do a tasm! x fashion designer reader? (I’m a fashion major lmaooo) Like where the reader has a big debit show coming up and Peter misses bc he’s out on his spiderly duties. The reader doesn’t know he’s Spider-Man. Very angsty then very fluffy. Love confessions. Thank you!!!!!!

thank you + thank you for the request!! i loveee this idea <3 also definitely watched barbie a fashion fairytale while writing this LMAO

masterlist | requests are open!

Emotions swirled in your chest - beginning with anxiety and just a touch of nausea.

Then came the elation - it was like the feeling when people praised you for your designs only intensified by about a thousand.

You'd spent hours on the pieces now being carried on the runway, survived on less hours of sleep than you'd thought possible, and worked through headaches you were positive where going to split your skull open. You'd pricked your fingers, created permanent callouses on your fingers, and probably caused irreversible damage to your back to make your patterns and ideas come to life. It was one thing to draw them out on paper and another to create them, altering them and scratching out ideas that had looked good on paper but had not ended up liked you'd imagines - and something completely different to see them on models, to watch the audience awe and clap for what you'd created.

Your heart pounded with each excited congratulations! and hug after the show had ended, still reeling a little from the experience. It'd been over so quickly for all the time you'd poured into the preparation and how long the show would take to clean up, but you were sure your work had made an impression that would outlive the night.

But as the crowd died down and people filed out, you stood, waiting, for the congratulations you'd been anticipating all night - the one that'd probably mattered the most to you.

But as the crowd thinned into only a few heads of people that had begun occupying themselves with cleaning up, so dispersed there was no way Peter could've possibly missed you, that's when the realization had set in.

Peter hadn't come.

Now, there was a new feeling a chest. Your heart hadn't stopped pounding, but now there was a pain accompanying it in your chest and a lump in your throat you were struggling to swallow down.

You turned when you heard your name called, not sure what you were expecting - it was only one of your colleagues, asking if you'd like to grab drinks to celebrate.

You teeter, almost let the idea persuade you, but ultimately decide against it with a small maybe next time! - because you're not really sure if you'd be able to hold the tears in if you got intoxicated.

Plus, a little piece of your heart holds out hope that maybe your boy would still show up - maybe he got pushed out by the crowd, or couldn't find you and decided to wait for you outside.

But as you stepped out into the dark night and looked around at the empty street, any last hope died.

The journey home created an ideal environment for your disappointment to brew into a strong, dark anger, scowl on your face sure to scare any strangers on the sidewalk off and away from you. You were nearing furious by the time you reached your door, shoving your keys into the lock and hurting your hands with the intensity you pulled them out with, cold metal painfully digging into your hot fingers.

Your anger didn't mellow as you turned your phone off, refusing to let Peter have any way to contact you - at least for tonight. You needed a few hours away from him. Maybe longer. You'd decide that later.

A shower tamed your flames, water burning you out and leaving behind something that craved only the soft comfort of your bed.

You'd only made it a few steps into your room when your ears perked at the sound of tapping at your window. Your eyes followed, trying to identify the source of the noise, and you jumped when you saw Peter on your fire escape.

If it hadn't been so cold out, you would've left him outside.

At least, that's what you told yourself afterwards.

But that searing rage had returned, warming your entire body and making you resistant to the cold air that blew in along with Peter the second you opened the window.

"Did you climb up here?" You spat out, immediately backing up and crossing your arms, scowl making its way on your face again.

Peter didn't need to look at you to feel your anger.

He'd been so close to making it this time - but, like always, something had come up. That'd been his excuse so many times, to so many people, it was starting to become pathetic even to Peter. He'd paced for close to an hour, biting the inside of his cheek raw while wondering how he was going to make it up to you. Peter knew how much this night had meant to you. He'd promised to be there, to support you and all the work you'd put in; the long hours you spent beside Peter, refusing to accept his help. The days where Peter had to force you away from your desk to have a break, all the snacks he'd made to fuel you and your beautiful brain.

And now, as Peter was so famous for doing, he blew it.

"W...what? Oh, yeah, I just-" Well, Peter had swung here, but he'd get around to explaining that. For now, he was more focused on trying to get his words out without stuttering pathetically. "I just- I needed to tell you something."

You stood, silent, arms crossed and eyes dark. Peter didn't need a translation to know you were telling him to spit it out.

Peter swallows thickly. He takes a deep breath. He forces himself to look straight into your eyes.

"I'm Spiderman." Peter goes the extra mile and tugs on the neckline of his shirt, revealing a sliver of the suit in case you don't believe him.

It's silent, which Peter begins to believe is the worst outcome with each second it drags on. You falter for just a few moments before your eyebrows furrow, somehow even angrier this time, because you, in all your hot anger, cannot bring yourself to fully process the information Peter has just thrown at you - or, frankly, care.

"So? You think that's just gonna fix everything?" You step closer to Peter, words like venom.

"I-"

"You what? You think I'm just gonna forgive you because you're Spiderman? Peter, you know how much this meant to me. And now you show up, hours after you're supposed to, telling me you're Spiderman?"

"Well, I brought these," Peter offers weakly, pulling a bouquet of flowers out of his bag. Crushed. Peter watches as a petal falls lamely to the ground.

"Impressive," you say so sarcastically it hurts, rolling your eyes with a sigh. "God, Peter, you are such a dick!"

Peter can sense you're about to send him out of that window flying, but he just can't leave before saying everything he needed to say.

"W-wait! Please, just hang on, I... I am so sorry," Peter starts, hands on your shoulders desperately. "I really am. Truly. I wanted to be there tonight, I tried so hard to be there, something got in the way... but that doesn't matter. I should've been there, or at least texted, or something, you're right, I'm sorry. And this," Peter motions to his chest. "is not an excuse, at all. I just wanted to tell the truth. I owe you at least that."

"Yeah, you owe a lot more than that," you scoff, shoving Peter's shoulder. It's not hard but Peter winces painfully in a way that fills you immediately with guilt. You roll up Peter's sleeve but see only a pattern of red and black. You look at him expectantly and he does his best to slide his arm out of his suit from under his shirt - all to reveal a nasty bruise, right where you'd hit him.

"Well, now I feel bad," you murmur, dragging Peter to your kitchen for some ice, trying not to think about how dangerous the things he got involved with as Spiderman probably were - how he'd clearly been doing something more important while missing the show.

"Don't," Peter insists, letting you sit him down and press ice against the bruise, focusing on not wincing. "I deserve it."

"You don't, Pete," you sigh, careful not to let your eyes wander to Peter's - it's hard, though, feeling him stare at you so woefully from your peripheral.

But you slip eventually, Peter catching your eyes before you can look away.

"I'm sorry," he says again, reaching for your hand slowly, tenderly, wondering if you'll let him.

You do.

"I know you are, Peter."

It's quiet for a few moments before you sigh, examining Peter's arm for any other bruises.

"It's just the one," Peter confirms, before asking shyly, "Kiss it better?"

You roll your eyes but you push Peter's sleeve up further, careful not to touch the bruise as you place your lips on the top of Peter's shoulder, right next to a small freckle.

"I meant here," Peter taps his lips with a smile.

"Don't push it." You move away from Peter and he stands, following you around as you stop at a cupboard and dig around until you find an empty vase. Peter watches silently as you fill it with water and wordlessly back into your room, where you pick up the flowers from where Peter had left them on your nightstand and place them carefully inside the vase.

"They were beautiful when I bought them," Peter mutters.

"They're still nice," you insist. "So," you begin, taking a seat on your bed. "Do I really want to hear the details about all the dangers Spiderman has faced?"

"Depends on how much you still hate me," Peter replies, opening up a drawer full of your sleep shirts, sure he'll find one (or a few) of his among them. He does, and he's quick to start pulling his clothes off. Unfortunately, Peter hasn't come up with a better way of getting his suit off just yet.

"Is watching people undress part of the job?" Peter asks with a grin, slipping his head through your (his) shirt.

"No, we usually watch them get dressed," you hum.

"So it's just me then?" Peter drops next to you on your bed, pulling your laptop from its place on your nightstand.

"Okay, you were the one who started taking your clothes off in front of me."

"You looked."

You rolled your eyes but you smiled as Peter pulled you into his side, balancing your laptop between the two of you. He's quick to pull up clips of the show and you're surprised to see it already online; you're also surprised to see the few hundreds of views already, considering it had only been a few hours since the show.

"Tell me everything," Peter insists, propping himself up to focus his attention back on you.

So you do.

Peter has always been a good listener when it came to you, captivated by the way you speak. He's told you before that he could listen to you talk about nothing for hours, but he makes an extra effort to really pay attention tonight. He asks questions about the show and about intricacies that he doesn't quite understand.

You can tell when you're beginning to lose him, at some point where you're talking about the different stitches you had to use to create a certain design on one of your pieces.

Some of it Peter has heard already, but he listens regardless. He's set the laptop aside now, fingers drawing figures on your arm as he hums and nods.

You've gotten to the end, where you casually mention the invitation for drinks you got. Peter frowns, head propped on his hand so you can see the severity of his pout.

"What would you have done then?" You ask curiously.

"Waited," Peter said like it was obvious.

"What if I stayed out all night?"

"Well then I would've had to break in," Peter grins.

"You're a nuisance."

"The person you've turned me into," Peter rolls onto you, pressing his head into your neck.

"I have a feeling you've always been like this."

"Maybe," Peter hums against your skin, pressing his lips into your skin.

"I haven't forgiven you yet. You're still a dick."

"I am," Peter agrees, pulling his head away to look at you, arms caging you in at your sides. "The worst. Call me Penis Parker."

You can't help but laugh at that one, which of course makes Peter grin.

"You still owe me," you say sternly, hands meeting at the back of Peter's neck, capturing him in a loose hold. "For, like, the rest of your life."

"I owe you," Peter nods quickly, pressing a kiss to the inside of your arm. "For the rest of my life. Just as long as you're in it."

Peter's voice goes quiet towards the end, implicating something you hadn't intended for originally. Peter notices how your eyes widen slightly and he bites his lip.

"Uh, well, I don't think this is really the best time to tell you, but... uh," Peter hesitates, moving off of you, choosing to sit up next to you instead. "I... I love you."

You're sitting him, mouth slightly agape. All you'd expected tonight was a congratulations from Peter, not a love confession.

The silence scares him until Peter manages to hear your elevated heart rate (only barely over his own). Your face is hot and Peter's about to insist that you don't have to respond right now when you're pulling him in, slowly. Your hand is on his cheek and Peter's arms have shyly wrapped around you. Your noses bump and Peter tilts his head, not quite shutting his eyes just yet. His breath comes out a little strained and you know he's not gonna go for it until you do.

"I love you, Peter," you whisper. "But don't ever do that again."

Peter nods, moving to place a hand on your chin. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good."

And you lean in, finally, capturing Peter's lips in a kiss he was terrified he'd never experience again. He savored it now, hungry, refusing to let you go. He relished the funny feeling that your words created in his chest, pulling you close and making you feel every little ounce of love he had for you.

Peter wouldn't risk losing you again as long as he could help it.

[simmerika]

LITTLE LOVE: FAMILY/INFANTS POSEPACK

Lemme tell y'all I have been SO excited to do poses with infants!! This update has made me even more obsessed with the game and I hope you all have been enjoying it! Here's my first ever posepack with infants, I hope you enjoy!!

DOWNLOAD (PATREON, EARLY ACCESS UNTIL APRIL 21)

You will need:

Teleporter Mod

Pose Player (**IMPORTANT:** This has been updated for infants and you must have this updated version for the poses to be compatible with infants!)

Rocker chair from Growing Together expansion pack (Pose 4 only)

RECOMMENDED: invisible baby rug default replacement (removes the blue-pink plaid rug that automatically goes under babies when they're set down)

Disclaimer: I try to make my poses while taking into consideration Sims' different body shapes/types. However, it is nearly impossible to make poses fit every Sim ever made, so you may experience gapping or clipping based on their body type and/or clothing.

SimmErika TOU:

✨ Do not reupload on ANY website

✨ Do not claim as your own

✨ Do not change the package files

✨ Please give credit when using the poses (@simmerika AND #simmerikaposes on IG: so I can thank you and hype up your posts)

✨ Use of my poses is allowed for blender renders, but please do not alter the poses.

✨ Violation of these TOU will result in a permanent ban from my Patreon, Instagram, tumblr, etc.

--------------------

@ts4-poses

[misscammiedawn]

Ethical Personality Play

So. I've written about my experiences with Personality Play in the past. A couple times, actually.

The TL;DR is that from early 2000s-2019 this was my signature move that the first three hypnotists I was tied up with utilized on a near daily basis. The damage of this abuse has never been fully tallied, but if you want my "how to alter your personality with hypnosis" guide in a word it is simple:

Don't.

"But what if I want to do hypnotic edgeplay?"

But saving that... let me impart some wisdom in hopes that y'all will play nice and safe with this.

Firstly let me define the terms.

Personality Play is any form of hypnosis scene that alters aspects of the individual's identity whether it be for a scene, as a permanent trigger or as permanent conditioning. The danger amplifies with the more severe and lasting the changes are but there is always danger.

So, let's cover each area of what can be done, how it can be harmful and how to avoid that harm.

General rules

Before even negotiating this kind of play. Disclose.

If you are engaging with intimate hypnosis at this end of the danger spectrum then you need to have a level of intimate trust relative to that risk and this trust needs to go both ways. If I were a hypnotist introducing this kind of play into the mix I would do so only if I could trust in my hypnotee partner's mental state.

I disclose my BPD and DID at the start of any hypnotic relationship and talk about how they impact me. How the depersonalization and derealization symptoms require a level of grounding before and after play and what to do if my emotional state switches during the middle of a scene. This is not an easy thing for me to do, especially if time is a limited factor, but it's a necessary thing to do.

I do not expect every person playing be willing to disclose every mental condition they have or open up about possible abreaction triggers. That's sensitive information and it's natural to not want to be open about that with every partner. I do, however emphasize that it is vital for that information to be known when approaching these topics. It is unfair for the partner in the scenarios to be responsible for managing safety on either side of the watch when they are unaware of the depths of vulnerability.

I have experience with this fallacy myself. In utilizing hypnosis to ignore my triggers I did severe damage to myself and I am now plagued with intrusive memories and nightmares of events that happened during scenes that I was able to effortlessly indulge in during the scene but as they say "The body keeps the score" and I was in fact doing further damage to myself. Something which my partner at the time was not equipped to deal with because I'd failed to disclose or even treat the situation as worth being safe about.

Now I am just burdened with further damage by ignoring my brain's defenses on my existing pain.

Once again, I refer to my first bit of advice on how to ethically perform Personality Play: DON'T.

Once you have a trusting understanding of both sides of the watch's limits and comforts the next step is grounding.

Grounding is mandatory.

I wrote about my feelings on this before in more depth. The short version, though:

Before and after a scene with intense reality distorting you should take an effort to make a person feel aware of their surroundings, to offer them connection "during the scene you will know I am here and you can pause the scene at any time for any reason" and for them to take stock of their mental state and how they are feeling. Just ask them to display curiosity and provide comfort in the connection between hypnotist and hypnotee. You will be returning here and you need to make it an inviting space.

Grounding should also include a reminder that the hypnotee will be aware of what is happening the whole time. I'll cover this more in the more risky portion, but the key to safety is to ensure that the hypnotee is not immersed in any headspaces they may slip into (with the understanding that there is another gradient here of subspace and highs and peaks from scene play which are chemical reactions and those highs are a little more natural than the altered headspaces I am referring to).

For another grain of personal experience and warning here, I just want to talk about the three hypnotists who played with me utilizing personality play. One knew what he was doing, one didn't know what they were doing and one didn't care. I'll refer to them as Noel (knew better), Dinny (didn't know) and Carrie (didn't care).

Dinny expected that if a scene got too much for me that I would drop out of trance or end the scene. To them they assumed that no one will do anything in hypnosis that they didn't want to do and that it was just extreme play-acting. They likely didn't believe in hypnosis all that much and used it as a framework for roleplay, which is their true indulgence.

So if a scene got too intense for them they would safeword. End the scene. They were in control.

As someone who was immersed in the play and had no grounding, there was no escape because within the framework of the scene, there was no "out of character" there was the scene and that was all that was happening.

You cannot assume that a hypnotee will safeword and end a scene unless they receive the proper grounding and instruction to do so. If you're going to be doing edge play, you have to surrender the fantasy and make sure reality is in the scene at all times. Both sides of the watch. If you are entering in a scene where a person is altered throughout then you cannot expect them to act on their agency. It's a CNC scene by default and you need to introduce safety and consent to avoid that.

Likewise I want to note the power imbalance that comes from play like this. A motivated hypnotee can fling themselves into this arena and do harm to the hypnotist. This does fly both ways. A hypnotee not advocating for themselves or exercising their agency will make a hypnotist accessory to the damage.

This is a sin I have committed.

A hypnotist has a responsibility to themselves to not allow a self-neglecting hypnotee use hypnosis as a method of psychological self-harm. This guide is as much to protect a hypnotist from being abused as it is for hypnotees to avoid allowing themselves to be abused.

Every side is vulnerable in these exchanges.

So... now that we understand the basics before we can even start, let's start in the shallow end and work out way up.

Emotion Control/Intelligence Play

Starting soft. This is fairly standard play and so long as you're being mindful I doubt many would have too many problems with these suggestions.

Infatuation potions, ditzy spells... this is fairly standard stuff.

The key thing to do is to ensure that the effects are temporary and impersonal. For instance for an intelligence play scene you may want to picture a dial in the hypnotees head that has a default setting. Take a moment to ground that default setting. What is normal. What it feels like out of hypnosis. Then you can suggest that it will always return to this default setting after a time but for now we intend to dial it back down, as you feel yourself growing sillier and sillier.

This is a safe way to handle a scene like this because even if you do not perform a post-session grounding (which you always should), the default will naturally return.

Likewise infatuation potions you can mention how your body will metabolize and you'll be aware of the artificial nature of the emotions you feel.

Being aware of the artificial nature of the emotions at play will prevent lingering effects. Even after you clean up there will always be a little bit left over and it's a matter of limiting how much sticks around and where the mind will return to.

I safely play with suggestions like this to this day even when Personality Play in the broader sense is Red for me. This is safe. It's manageable. It's temporary and with a partner who is willing to make space for it, you can keep reality in the room. Safe and secure.

But it can still be dangerous.

Let's see the intelligence play scene was handled poorly. Instead of a temporary dial which defaults to normal a hypnotist instead asked "Debra" to imagine herself with platinum blonde hair, a larger chest, all her thoughts evaporating into a pink bubblegum mist as boundless confidence overcomes her until she transforms into her bimbo persona, "Debbie" and Debbie can be summoned at a simple turn of phrase.

That right there? That's DANGEROUS.

We'll cover more as to why when I go over persona/character play, but it's a good example of how a "bimbo trigger" can be performed ethically and how it can be performed dangerously.

*sighs*

So let's move on...

Altered Headspaces

By altered headspaces I mean suggestions and scenes that play on your ability to perceive and process things. This can be the drugged/drunk sequences, hallucinations of any variety. It can be impulsiveness or boosts of confidence or terror.

Y'know. Stage hypnosis stuff. Because as we know, stage hypnosis tricks are a bastion of "ethical" suggestions.

Seriously though. The prevalence of these types of suggestion in the public perception make us as a community look bad and it's why doing them safely is vital, especially if we do get people entering the community with the idea of types of play which are risky at best from the get-go.

For these suggestions you want to provide the above grounding, but the hypnotee also needs to be able to have an objective view to their state so they can advocate for themselves.

Any altered headspace will supplement agency. It's why you cannot negotiate with someone when they are fractionated. Thusly, any interaction you have with someone in an altered headspace is going to be dubious consent by default. What if you made someone slutty for a scene and they escalated the scene to a sexual one without prior negotiation or existing rapport.

The correct thing to do is end the scene there and then. Otherwise the hypnotist is taking advantage of the hypnotee.

That's a fairly plain example, too. Hence why I feel even this level is edge play.

I don't particularly want to share my personal experience in this realm. Suffice to say I've never once in my life had lucid sexual intimacy with a partner. Every single time I was altered. I literally cannot approach the concept/act without being altered first. I invited it.

The body keeps score.

The way to practice this safely is to encourage the hypnotee to maintain an awareness and presence in the scene. There is a risk to this as incentivizing a dissociation between the conscious self and the altered self is the exact thing we are trying to avoid in these scenarios.

I refer again to the shining DON'T at the top of the post.

But with the correct grounding and temporary status of any scene this risk is lower than the risk of allowing a hypnotee to dive into a scene so heavily that they will ignore their personal ethics and safety for the consideration of the scene at play.

It's either allowing them the ability to advocate for themselves while altered, "the hidden observer will always be present during the scene and can stop things for any reason or just to check in" basically it's keeping reality in the room. A hypnotee should be discouraged from throwing themselves headlong into the fantasy and an awareness of waking self and the artificial nature of play is important, particularly the more immersive you go...

So...

Character/Persona Play

Which brings me to the final warning.

Please do not even attempt this. I see kids in tulpa communities and roleplayers who can't see the harm in becoming their characters and I wish I could share a grain of my experiences.

I did this for 18 years. Eighteen years. Daily. The damage it has done to me is never ever going to be fixed.

The thread I made on Twitter received a number of supportive messages from others with dissociative disorders who echoed my sentiments. I'm legitimately at the point where I ask "were we attracted to this type of play because we were predisposed to it" or "do we have serious disorders due to our time playing in the deep end"

Neither one need to be true. Doing so did damage. A lot of damage.

So here's my first question off the bat.

"What if your hypnotist gets hit by a bus?" what if one day you wake up and you no longer have someone to explore this gigantic portion of your soul with. What if access to this kind of play existed only within a relationship. Are you willing to allow that much of your personal experience and agency be left to someone else's hands?

What about trust. Can you trust someone to shape a part of yourself? Dinny, Carrie and Noel each did harm in their own way handling the bits of me I shared with them. Noel warped and twisted and perverted them to the point of which these characters, real and living aspects of me feel violated by his impact upon them. Carrie abandoned them and let them wither and die without even considering attachments I had made to them... attachments they had to the stories and connections they had made... and then Dinny? Dinny never treated them as real. They were fantasy and the situations were fantasy and it was all just a game.

Let me tell you about that last one. If you want to play out a hateship scene and utilize hypnosis to make your partner think that they are in that hateship scene, the emotions exist. They will bleed through and poison you in your waking state. If you are made to perform as a vampire who wants nothing more than to taste flesh then you are going to feel that desperate hunger and be trying with every fiber of your being to overpower the hypnotist who has the ability to end the scene if things get rough but, and this is the important part, unless you set up grounding-- you will not know that in the moment.

I legitimately have nightmares about the things I did while acting in scenes Dinny ran.

And lastly...

Are you willing to accept that there are parts of you that can do things that you in your waking and natural state, simply cannot do?

I do not know if doing these things makes you more vulnerable to the symptoms of a dissociative disorder or not, but I know that a damn lot of people who did this stuff excessively happen to have these symptoms.

Look. I don't hide my DID diagnosis on Tumblr. It hurts that I have a mesmerizing Fae in my heart who is more lovable than I am, more confident, more capable, more experienced and charming. I hate that she can perform feminine voice better than me. I hate that she can push boundaries and harm me without a thought. I hate feeling inferior to me. I hate feeling like I'm just a function of a person that people want around more.

I hate finding evidence that she had a whole online life that we hid so well that even post-diagnosis I am not fully sure what she did. I hate feeling powerless that I'm not in control of my own life and reality.

Dawn scares me. I am afraid of the part of me that most people love.

...and I have no way of communicating that as a warning that doesn't sound exotic and enticing. Because dissociative disorders are not exotic and enticing. They're boring, exhausting and tedious and though I am 50/50 on whether it can be accidentally induced through hypnosis play, I know there is no damned chance in hell any person should willingly gamble with that possibility.

I know so many systems and people who have endured extreme brainwashing who would be behind me when I say this.

DO. NOT. DO. IT.

...and so... assuming you have read all the warnings and you're not actively trying to invoke installed personalities into a person (which I do not condone under any circumstances at all).

How can we do character play and not leave lasting damage?

That's a question I have asked myself so so many times.

Firstly, avoid anything that makes the character headspace an extra layer. Do not use hypnosis to mold them. Do not give them their own triggers. Do not do anything which can be used as a divide between the waking self and the constructed persona.

But that's more "Don't" isn't it. Here's what you can do.

I think the best way is instead of having the hypnotee monitor the scene and step in when they need to, ask them to treat it as a performance. That they are aware of the artificial nature of the scene but at all times they will commit to taking on the role as an actor would on stage.

The key is to associate the role with the hypnotee enough that they are present in the scene while allowing them to commit to the actions without experiencing the thoughts and feelings of their own. Insist that no matter the morality and behavior of the character, the hypnotee as the actor will never cross their personal limits or ethics for the sake of the scene.

Then at the end of the sequence be sure to end the scene and ground the hypnotee, have them remember everything that had happened, remember them performing the act and deciding how to handle every decision. Make sure that the entire time that character and actor are one and the same and all hypnosis is doing is allowing the actor to invest in the bit.

That is legitimately the only safe way I think one can engage in this kind of play and from that angle it seems as harmless a suggestion as any scene.

But no shortcuts. No triggers that induce character headspace. No trying to breathe life into characters and allow them to inhabit. Even channeling them or letting them speak through the hypnotee courts a level of dissonance between states.

It's possible to enjoy the spontaneity of character play without suppressing the ego of the hypnotee. As I mentioned at the start, it may seem like a desirable outcome for some hypnotees to experience a state of ego-death and allow themselves to experience becoming someone else for a little while. It sounds appealing on paper.

A responsible hypnotist should never indulge that kind of desire and a respectable hypnotee should never burden a hypnotist with that level of responsibility. The damage is too risky.

Lastly, and this applies to all.

DEBFRIEF

Every major scene in any kink should involve a debrief segment. This helps with the grounding and it helps establish the in and out of scene dynamic while allowing the hypnotee to associate with their actions. "I did" rather than "they did".

One of my bigger mistakes in character play in my younger days was that I baked amnesia in and allowed my play partner to tell me about the scenes after the fact. This made it seem like the characters in the scene were the ones controlling things and I was a passive and absent spectator. Not good for healthy associations.

During a debrief the hypnotist and hypnotee should discuss their roles in the scene, how they felt during the experience. It gives both parties an opportunity to interrogate how the other is perceiving things, catch any flags (abuse of control over the scene, losing reality to fantasy etc) and give one another ideas for how to improve for future scenes. Debriefs make all kink play better in my opinion. Plus who doesn't like a bit of feedback on how you handled things in scene?

...look... I don't want to be an old lady yelling at the kids for doing things when I did them myself at that age.

I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't pretend I didn't see the allure on both sides of the watch.

I just... there weren't 20+ year experienced hypnosis veterans who had been in my character play abusing position when I was growing up. No one warned me. I learned all this the hard way and I hurt people. People I loved. Moreover I hurt me. In ways that will never heal.

I just want to spare anyone I can the pain of going through this.

So, in quick summary:

Ensure reality is always in the room.

Ensure the hypnotee is always aware of themselves and their action.

Reset after every scene.

Do not allow situational scenes to become direct triggers.

If you insist on reusing altered headspaces and characters then install and deinstal every time to limit any lingering traces out of scene. Do not allow them to have programming/conditioning unique to them.

Avoid allowing the hypnotee to circumvent their own ego and agency in a scene.

Debrief

Play safe... if you must play at all.

[catboybiologist]

Are you comfortable with questions about your journey to HRT?

Like, mentally how you took the leap of faith from femboy to needing something more / different. Asking for, uh, *a friend*, yeah 👀

Holy shit, this got long. This springboarded me into a massive writing about how my life influenced my personal gender philosophy, and is probably more than you bargained for. But I hope it's helpful in some way! I actually had a similar conversation recently with an NB, not on HRT friend of mine. What's the jump that makes you want to do HRT?

I don't think my experience parallels that of a lot of people's - everyone's is unique. But I do think there are good takeaways from my thoughts on this. Now that I have an Adderall prescription and my quarter is about to end, I've started writing some kind of more cited and developed essay or video essay, but that's random future stuff. This post itself is gonna be a little rambling, and a little personal. Sorry!

Vaguely, I think that the *push* to start HRT was a distinct force from tearing down the internal barriers associated with HRT, if that makes any sense. For many people, I think they have some sense of a mild preference of the gender they would "want" to be, but it doesn't bother them enough to actually break down the barriers to transition. For me, breaking those barriers, both internal and external, was as important as the motivations to transition themselves.

One of the major barriers in people's heads, often without them realizing it, is some kind of inherent belief in the "sanctity" of their body. For many people, "permanent changes" are terrifying, "unnatural", and even if they don't have medical risks, intrinsically *feel* like a medical risk they're taking on some level. It's an offshoot of purity culture in a weird way- it's the same root as a fear of psychiatric medicine making you "not you". Much of this is intrinsically religious, but a lot is actually not. I had a little bit of this growing up. Being raised atheist certainly helped in this regard, even though it was still a queerphobic slavic atheism.

The tiny bit of this I did have was sanctity of my mind, which internally, I still viewed as a separate entity from my body. This was 100% incited by crushing academic pressure, which influenced how I think and my own morality in a lot of unexpected ways. I grew up in a kind of infamously high pressure education area. It sounds unrelated, but it's really not. My mind, academics, and thinking kind of got put on a pedestal on my mind. My personal image of myself was basically a detached orb of thoughts and public speaking. I had 0 connection to my body. But since my mind was everything, both psychiatric medication and HRT were these vile things that could alter how I think and my mood! Gasp!

The final, crushing blow to both of these mentalities was studying biology. And WOW there's so much I could say about how studying biology has influenced how I think about this idea, which I want to talk about a lot more outside of the scope of just a tumblr post. But to summarize- it's not even about finding a biological "reason" for transness. It's about how I saw a living thing as a detailed, dynamic, intricate, constantly changing system that is as much a function of its environment as it is any intrinsic factors. And this includes the mind. So since I'm a shambling mass of chemicals anyways..... Why not be a shambling mass of slightly different chemicals?

The "detached orb" image isn't entirely accurate, though. Because, from an early age, I did have a self image that made me happy. And it was a female one. I shoved this deeply out of my mind in shame, leaving behind the "orb". This was my "push", as I called it before. In addition to a weird separation between my mind and my body, an additional factor contributed to my detachment- a growing distress around developing male traits during puberty, which coincided in the worst ways with academic pressure during teen and preteen years. Looking back, I now recognize this as dysphoria. I don't think my dysphoria was ever as extreme as many other people. But this is why I'm emphasizing taking down barriers as much as the weight of dysphoria itself. It has always been easy to distract from my dysphoria, but it's always been my "resting state" without realizing it.

Linked a bit to the second point is also how I felt shame about exploring any aspect of my life other than academic and professional achievement. Being raised in a high pressure environment means that any exploration of my queer identity felt like a distraction from the "real" things I should be focusing on. The final thing that tore this down, which I don't recommend for ANYONE, was an almost traumatic set of events during the pandemic/my masters degree that made me have a wake up call. I wasn't structuring anything in my life for my own happiness. Going through that made me realize I was going to continue being miserable unless I changed that. So... I started taking the idea of transitioning to actually work on my happiness very seriously.

Being a femboy was actually how I tried to reconcile these things in my head. It was my attempt to "compartmentalize"- allow myself to gently indulge in gender nonconformity and the happiness associated with it, while still not making the "commitment" to fully transition. It helps that most of my existence as a femboy was crossdressing during the height of the pandemic- spending hours on analysis and writing while living alone during my MS, wearing femme outfits while I did it. And of course, taking pics to kick off this whole online persona. I also kind of liked the idea of cis gender nonconformity as a concept, and still do. I love how femboys fuck with gender, and I wanted a slice of that for myself. It wasn't enough long term, and my new commitment to happiness overcame my desire to compartmentalize.

The final barriers were practical. By the end of my masters in 2022, I knew I wanted to transition, I just needed to get my social and financial shit together. Cue moving to my PhD university, becoming active in the queer community here, having an accepting professional environment... and yeah. Here I am. Still gotta socially transition outside of my queer circles, but now, I even have a plan for that. I still got a long way to go, but for the first time, I feel like I'm going in the right direction. And I'm very, very happy.

A lot of this is not applicable to everyone. It's mostly my personal experience. But if there is one thing that I think should apply to everyone here, it's this: kill bioessentialism in your mind. Kill the concept of complete sanctity of your mind and body. Break the barriers and then let yourself move freely across the new landscape you've opened up. At the very least, you'll come out with a more healthy relationship with your cis identity. And at best, you'll find a new part of you that needed to be found.

The other thing I think is broadly applicable is this: when initially figuring things out, stop thinking about what you "are", and start thinking about what you want. Would it make you happy to grow breasts, curves, have a femme face, estrogen regulated emotions, and other transfemme HRT changes? Because those are the actual, physical effects of HRT. If the answer is yes, start it. There's no reason not to. Your identity can come later. You deserve to be happy *for the explicit purpose of being happy*. You don't need to validate that desire through some other random factor.

This got WAAAYYYY too long, but if you have any questions, please, please ask!!!!

[lady-harrowhark]

Would you mind. Explaining what the heck the locked tomb (is this the name?) is about. You post a lot of it and I know ✨ nothing ✨ but it sounds kinda interesting??? Into dumping is ok if you feel like lol

I would LOVE to explain what The Locked Tomb is and you DID get the name right and it IS interesting!

So, it's a book series written by Tamsyn Muir and three of the anticipated four books have been released so far. I say "anticipated four books" because it was originally a trilogy but then the last book was split up. I don't think any of us would mind if that happened again and it turned into a five book series. But I digress.

These books are notoriously hard to describe because they sort of encompass or transcend genres. It's a sci-fi fantasty horror murder mystery romcom situation. Plus, there's a LOT going on - I've often described them as an "intellectual escape room." There's so much happening that you don't realize is happening until it all comes together. Going back to the beginning after you've finished them is an entirely different experience than your first read because you can see how it was all laid out from the start - sometimes even in plain sight - and things take on completely different meanings. Also, each book is very different from the others. I adore all of these qualities.

So here's the gist of the premise for the first book:

Gideon Nav, orphan of mysterious origins, has been raised on the Ninth House as an indentured servant and trained as a swordswoman. The Ninth House has become isolated from the rest of the empire and its very existence is threatened by the dwindling population and lack of resources. Gideon is one of only two survivors of her generation, the other children having succumbed to a lethal illness when she was an infant. The other survivor is Harrowhark Nonagesimus, the Reverend Daughter of the Ninth, and the two have been at each other's throats their entire lives. Harrow's parents' deaths have been hidden from the rest of the Ninth (save for Gideon and a few of the Reverend Family's attendants) and Harrow has been secretly ruling in their stead for the past seven years, doing her best to keep the Ninth from falling into ruin. Harrow is a prodigious necromancer, specializing in working with bones. The Ninth receives a message from the Emperor requesting that each House send their heir and cavalier primary (a.k.a swordsman/bodyguard) to his home at the First House, where they are to attempt to piece together the process to becoming a Lyctor, one of his immortal Saints. Unfortunately, Harrow's cavalier has skipped town. Gideon begrudgingly accepts a deal meaning that she will pose as Harrow's cavalier in exchange for freedom from servitude. Upon arriving at the First House, the two meet the other Houses' heirs and their cavaliers and are informed that they will have to figure out the secret to Lyctorhood on their own, and that there will absolutely no communication with the outside empire. It's not long before someone turns up dead... and then another...

What immediately hooked me on the first book was the voice and tone; Gideon is a delightfully snarky narrator. Despite the humor, these books do not pull any punches with regard to emotional depth. Love and grief are at the center of everything these books do, circled by sacrifice and duty and gender and colonialism and religion.

This review is actually one of my favorite things to send to people to pitch them the books. It does a fantastic job of conveying both the premise and the tone of Gideon the Ninth. I also wrote a "pitch your fandom" piece that @wilfriede recorded and recently released. You can find both the audio and the transcript at this link.

I hope that gives you a sense of the series, and thank you for giving me the opportunity to ramble about the series that permanently altered my brain chemistry! If you ever get around to reading them, I would love to hear your thoughts :)

[queerism1969]

What are some semi-harsh truths you have for people who are new to transitioning?

I don’t mean sharing depressing statistics that they’re likely already aware of. I mean things that might be difficult to internalize but are important to know for the most stable experience possible.

 Your transition will cause disappointment. Not of yourself, but of people you had hoped were better. Those are ‘them’ problems, not ‘you’ problems. You will most likely have to outgrow people.

Hormones helped with the emotional aspects of depression and anxiety, but you still have all the bad habits and thought patterns that are associated. It takes work to fully heal

Dysphoria does lessen overall but that can make some sources of it feel worse

You don't know what all your dysphorias are, or how strong they are. Dysphoria is a type of pain, and the brain is only able to perceive so much pain at a time. When you clear out the biggest problem, you'll be able to see the next. It may come as a hell of a surprise.

If you require a medical transition, SERIOUSLY DO YOUR RESEARCH ON SURGEONS. While there are some great surgeons out there, there are DEFINITELY bad ones too. There are extremely dangerous "medical providers" who falsely advertise their expertise. THOROUGHLY read the wiki page in /Transgender_Surgeries

There are a whole bunch of places you can't really go to anymore. And I don't just mean Russia or Saudi, I mean many suburbs, rural areas, or any neighborhoods that aren't already quite progressive.

Just because someone's trans doesn't mean they aren't transphobic, get to know people before you come out to them 

You will lose friends, some might be openly against it others might just drift away just be prepared to lose some of your friends not all but some.

Transition is not a cure-all for all your problems, it might help with something like depression and certainly dysphoria. But there are some problems that will still be there

Take lots of pictures even if you feel ugly. You'll want those later just as a boost to see how far you have come. 

For my trans-women friends, it is dangerous to be alone with a man who you don't know, even in public.

Carry pepper spray, carry a firearm, learn how to throw a punch, stay with your group, and never go home with a stranger.

Throwing other trans people under the bus, especially less "acceptable" or "palatable" trans people, in order to make cis people respect you is bullshit.

Do not be afraid to switch therapists and doctors if one doesn't feel right.

Most people don't know shit about being trans or how transitioning works. Get ready for the most disgustingly intrusive questions you can imagine.

Never read the comments. There's no point in getting into battles, I know you want to, but LGBT education is EXHAUSTING, people are hostile for no reason. They are scared of you and hate you because they don't know you. Remember: it doesn't have to be your job to educate people.

Trans people are a really easy target for hate politics because we strongly depend on other people (doctors who prescribe our meds, surgeons, government for name change stuff) and it's very easy to take them away from you. 

Cis people will tell you that you'll "regret transitioning" or that you're making a mistake because they cannot even comprehend something like dysphoria, their greatest fear is having their sex permanently altered, which would be dysphoric for them, and they think everyone else is like that.

[ghxst-system]

The systems misusing nonverbal and semiverbal upset me so much. We are bodily semiverbal. We have difficulty communicating and it's only worsened by our dissociation and schizospec stuff. We have many alters that are semiverbal and even have alters formed specifically to help communicate sometimes because we seriously cannot. And even then sometimes they fail to communicate for us.

It makes us upset seeing systems and anyone misuse them. We are dumb and we are slow. We have cognitive and mental disabilities. We struggle to think and understand a lot. And even we know that if we do not fully understand words that we do not feel comfortable using them.

It very easy to just not use words or to learn about them. Even as a ramcoa survivor and polyfrag system we still don't use subsystem because we cannot fully understand it. And it's okay to not understand. Sometimes it takes months before we use words and understand them. It takes us a while of learning between reading actual professional resources and personal experiences to understand. We still don't understand some of our own stuff. We still can't talk about schizotypal stuff even though we very much live it.

Feels like people see words and just go "Oh that me!" and don't even try to understand. Or try to understand what means beforehand. And cannot relate to that because always been scared about not understanding or misusing words so always try to make sure I understand best I can before using them. Because I know I can be very slow if not easily written out like a vocab word in elementary school. It takes time for us to use words to describe our own experiences because along with time accepting it, it takes time to even understand it. Like we know we polyfrag and ramcoa now, but took us months to learn and just as if not longer to accept. Because could not understand and comprehend.

I thought everyone would do this kind of thing. Look at professional sources and then try to understand them and also find people to help explain or people that experience it. And we are notoriously bad at research and stuff cause we are very slow and dumb. Does make us slightly salty about it though. But I know most people never mean harm. Still frustrating and hope more systems try to learn before hopping on using words especially when many are professional and medical words, not just community terms for funsies. They have meaning. They have purpose. They exist for reason. Meaning sticks to meaning.

(sorry for longer vent and sorry for if not word right cuz as we said we are dumb and semiverbal and struggle to communicate so tried to get thoughts out and stuff. Apologizing because very anxious and helps feel better if say sorry.)

But this just to say yes very frustrating and very glad someone says it. Semiverbal for semiverbal bodily. Nonverbal for nonverbal bodily. Permanent state. Not something go to. Important for these words to keep meaning when most of community already ignored nonverbal and semiverbal people. :( Systems too. Do not use nonverbal and semiverbal. Leave for systems that bodily nonverbal and bodily semiverbal just as they'd be for non-systems that are nonverbal and semiverbal.

(really hope made sense, always worry come off wrong, been treated poor for semiverbal struggles before :( sorry if too venty)

Hey you have no need to apologise!

I'm really grateful you resonated with this as a system who's also semiverbal bodily.

I just want to say, you aren't at all dumb okay? I hope you can learn to feel better about yourself and your disabilities and verbality

(Sorry for reply being short CFS is kicking our butt rn)

[bethanydelleman]

Hi! Love your blog :) I saw your previous reply about Jane Austen and cognitive neuroscience and it reminded me of a question I have about Persuasion that still haunts me, which I can't seem to find a definitive answer for on the general internet. So after Louisa is injured, its like she undergoes a pretty massive personality shift, leading up to her falling in love with Captain Benwick etc. My question is, is that change (in your opinion) supposed to be a mental trauma reaction, or more of a physical trauma reaction? Like are we supposed to infer that the brain tissue injury changed her or is it more like, she was in mental shock and also an invalid with plenty of time to brood on her role in things and that's what resulted in her being in a state of mind to love some poetry & Benwick? I do wonder if the total personality change is temporary or permanent, because sometimes people who undergo near-death experiences often have mental trauma-based reactions including apparently 180 degree personality shifts, but those don't last and as they heal from the trauma, they become closer to their older selves. In Louisa's case that would make for an interesting dynamic in her married life with Benwick if she goes back to her earlier personality eventually.

I personally think Louisa and Benwick's marriage is the most questionable one in all of Austen's works! Forget age gaps, no one should be getting married a few months after major brain trauma... I mean unless they were already engaged... maybe.

These are the two quotes about Louisa after the injury that are important here:

She saw no reason against their being happy. Louisa had fine naval fervour to begin with, and they would soon grow more alike. He would gain cheerfulness, and she would learn to be an enthusiast for Scott and Lord Byron; nay, that was probably learnt already; of course they had fallen in love over poetry. The idea of Louisa Musgrove turned into a person of literary taste, and sentimental reflection was amusing, but she had no doubt of its being so. The day at Lyme, the fall from the Cobb, might influence her health, her nerves, her courage, her character to the end of her life, as thoroughly as it appeared to have influenced her fate.

and

He answered rather hesitatingly, “Yes, I believe I do; very much recovered; but she is altered; there is no running or jumping about, no laughing or dancing; it is quite different. If one happens only to shut the door a little hard, she starts and wriggles like a young dab-chick in the water; and Benwick sits at her elbow, reading verses, or whispering to her, all day long.” Anne could not help laughing. “That cannot be much to your taste, I know,” said she; “but I do believe him to be an excellent young man.” “To be sure he is. Nobody doubts it; and I hope you do not think I am so illiberal as to want every man to have the same objects and pleasures as myself. I have a great value for Benwick; and when one can but get him to talk, he has plenty to say. His reading has done him no harm, for he has fought as well as read. He is a brave fellow. I got more acquainted with him last Monday than ever I did before. We had a famous set-to at rat-hunting all the morning in my father’s great barns; and he played his part so well that I have liked him the better ever since.”

So firstly, Louisa was already into the navy and Wentworth, she has retained that interest. However, we will recall that Louisa's interest in the navy sprang to life in moments after meeting the handsome captain. But she's 19 years old, so sudden interests in things that a handsome guy likes are perfectly normal! I'm sure she's learned to appreciate poetry in all the time she had to be quiet and still.

Secondly, what Charles observes is likely lingering effects of brain trauma or what we might call post-concussion syndrome (Louisa had a worse injury than what is commonly called a concussion). Louisa's brain is still healing. She will probably begin to dance again at some point, depending on what damage is long lasting. This is the tricky thing with brains, permanent damage can be extremely varied. One person ends up with aphasia (trouble speaking), another with ataxia (trouble with muscle coordination), and a third with memory problems and so on. However, Louisa is young and her brain is still plastic (adaptable); hopefully she will recover completely without deficits.

Lastly, I included the part about Benwick being a great rat-hunter because we have to remember, he's not all poetry. He is in the navy, he is apparently competent to be promoted so early and we know he has a good fortune. He's a good guy, he's passionate, I'm sure he wants to make his wife happy.

So... I think they'll be fine. Louisa was going to mature no matter what, Benwick is a good person, and they will grow more alike. If not, navy wives weren't always able to travel with their husbands, so Benwick might be away for long periods of time and Louisa might be home with the kids.

But I still advise anyone to wait at least a year before marrying after a major brain trauma! (semi-expert advice, don't sue me)

[akronus-writes]

the embodiment of fear: slashers and movies

Antros' mother knew something was different with her child the day he was born, silent and already cheerful. At first, they thought it was a sign he was a blessing, a child that could bring joy to the world. but then it started, no matter how much they fed him, he always seemed malnourished, but whenever someone got scared of him starving, he looked perfectly healthy.

They had hoped it was just a strange coincidence, but as he got older things only got worse. almost every night his parents caught him cheerfully watching horror movies as soon as he was smart enough to operate the remote. then he started scaring his parents, and even the other kids at school.

not even birthday parties were safe, every time one of them happened, he'd somehow get his hands on the remote, and start playing Friday the 13th, or Halloween. eventually his parents kept him home, and as they got used to his scares, he started to degrade. without that fear to cause, it was almost like Antros was going through withdrawals. But if he even just managed to cause some fear, he was right as rain, like nothing had happened.

on his 13th birthday his parents finally caved, and he was given access to a library of classic and modern horror. supplied with all of this horror, he quickly watched every movie before the month had ended, and in that moment, truly began to reach an understanding of himself. not the genderfluid part, he's known this for a while.

to his knowledge he was an embodiment of fear, a being that quite literally subsists off of, and is empowered by, fear. from what he understood he seemed to embody slasher villains and movie horror, leading him to experiment with his powers.

at first it was simply summoning machetes or being able to take a punch, but as he learned to better harness the fear he embodied, the more powerful he got.

eventually his control had reached a point that he could casually make a "banshee scream" loud enough to stun a grown man, and had permanently altered his body to be much more durable, and all around physically superior.

along with a development power wise, Antros had also begun studying in school to both become involved in the horror films industry, and to better understand human psychology. which is when it happened.

while walking home from the screening of the recently released 'the strangers: first chapter' Antros was approached by a young woman, about his age (16), in a black three piece suit and tie, with long black hair that trailed down her back like blood.

at first, he was ready to fight the woman, or just walk past her, but she had other plans.

"so you're the one my associate told me about, I believe Antros was your name?" she questioned, a smile dancing at her lips.

"yes I am, what about it?" Antros responded, stepping back to keep his face hidden.

"well, I've hear of your particular... skills, and believe I may have a job offer for you" she stayed back, letting Antros have his secrecy.

Antros remained silent for a few seconds, before tilting his head, and speaking "what kind of job?"

"a contract of sorts, you use your... fear powers, for me and my business, and in return I pay you, in money" the women responded, as the cloud began to shift, revealing the blood that stained her shirt.

Antros weighed his options before he spoke, holding out his hand to the woman "deal"

"deal" the woman shook his hand, before swiftly turning around and walking off.

"fuck, I didn't get a way to contact he-," Antros' train of thought was cut off by the blood that dripped onto his shoes, looking to its source, he saw the bloody business card his new employer had left him.

on the walk home, he examined it closer. there were only two things on the card, an address, and what he assumed to be the woman's name, Aldira.

@good-wizard @f4y3w00d5 @monsterfucker-research-wizard @f4y3w00d5 @the-final-knight @fayewoods-2

[doctordeathawaits]

Do you have any Transtoner/Permahigh advice?

Xx420_blazeitxX

TRANS - STONER ...

Look into / research psychedelics , type of ways to get high , types of strains , ect .

Read experiences from other people - figure out which experience with what drugs interest you the most .

Easing yourself slowly - smoking a little bit and making sure you're in the presence of a trusted one . ( that is unless you wish to experience a bad high )

Figure out what is your limit - figuring this out can be great to know where to stop yourself , it can also be great for knowing where you can try to ease yourself in again to go over the limit .

Figure out what way is most comfortable for you when getting high , some people like bongs , some like blunts , some like vapes , just figure out what fits you the most <3

PERMA - HIGH ...

Always having something to get high , in your room , in your bag , in your pocket .

Probably the most obvious one , always being high - smoking even just a tiny bit to have your mind be altered .

Smoking a tiny bit - yet being under the impression that it does a lot . Placebo effect < 3

Always having red eyes - rubbing / irritating your eyes can help with the redness .

Putting a bit of Chapstick on your eyelids can make your eyes be slumped and appear high .

Carrying eyedrops to act like you are trying to counteract the redness .

Become accident prone - having a slow reaction time and being drowsy can help appear permanently high .

Forgetfulness - pretending to have short-term memory loss can help < 3

I hope this at least helped a tiny bit < 3 Happy transitioning < 3

[wolveria]

The Raven’s Hymn - Ch 34

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “Something within you is… different.”

AO3

On the lengthy elevator ascent, the words spoken by the immortal reptile echoed in your mind. What was being done to him was beyond egregious, and most of what he spoke made little sense, but there was one thing that struck you as odd.

682 had spoken of 079—not surprising, given their history. The computer with sentience that went beyond what its hardware should have been able to handle, built on a whim by a college student in his garage. An AI built on an old Exidy Sorcerer microcomputer and an immortal reptile seemed an unlikely friendship, but they had been observed communicating during a previous containment breach at Site-19. Your running hypothesis was they formed a bond over their shared hatred of humanity.

You continued to stare at the steel wall, not moving or blinking, surrounded by unfriendly faces leading you God knew where, so you could relate to the sentiment. But what you couldn’t understand was 682’s tone. When he’d roared at you to apologize to 079, there had been rage rather than grief. You had the sense that speaking to 079 was something 682 actually expected, not simply a hypothetical. Which was impossible. SCP-079 had been destroyed after Site-19’s final containment breach.

Of course, 682 was supposed to have been killed during the breach as well, and he was still alive. Horrifically so.

The elevator finally came to a stop, and you were shuffled forward. With Leahy at the head of your entourage, you were led back into the familiar halls of Heavy Containment. You didn’t dare hope until you were stopped in front of a containment cell you’d entered many times. It was too good to believe as you stared at 049’s containment placard, symbols on its surface warning of the threats within.

Leahy held out his hand to one of the guards, and your heart fell when he placed the keys within it. The Site Director then nodded them away, and they moved further down the hall out of earshot.

He reached for your wrist restraints. You flinched. Leahy gave you an impatient frown and grabbed your wrists, but he didn’t unlock them. He used your wrist chain to pull you closer, his voice low so only you could hear.

“This goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway. You breathe a word of what transpired below this facility, there will be consequences. First, any observation recording of what you say will be wiped. Second, any personnel observing you at that time will be given amnestics. And third, and this is the one you’re really not going to like, any SCP you share this knowledge with will be put into permanent containment. Amnestics, after all, don’t work on them.”

You glared at him, hatred rising like bile, but you didn’t speak, afraid anything you said would simply be used against 049.

“You’re a smart girl, Reid. Surely, you’ve figured out by now that despite the benefits it can provide with its altered abilities, 049 is expendable. 035 is expendable. They are all expendable.”

“…But not me.”

Leahy smiled. You looked away.

“Like I said. Smart girl.”

He unshackled your wrists and you jerked away from him, rubbing your chaffed skin, watching him out of the corner of your eye. Leahy swiped his card and stepped back, holding his arm out toward the open containment door with an amused expression. No need to force you inside, he knew.

You entered the empty middle containment chamber, happy to be rid of the Site Director and his mad schemes, at least for a while. You didn’t know what his plans were, but at least you were back. You’d half-expected never to see this cell again. Your supposed purpose for being with 049 was to keep him calm and cooperative, but you’d let your emotions get ahold of you and done the exact opposite. And now that you knew Leahy didn’t actually care about 049’s ability to heal, what hope did you have of protecting him from the Site Director’s displeasure?

All of those doubts and fears went quiet at the loud click of the inner containment doors unlocking. They slid open at a slow pace, revealing the tall, masked SCP waiting on the other side, as if expecting your arrival. Or perhaps, only hoping for it.

049 stepped forward, and then stopped. His entire focus was on your face, but he stood at a distance and clasped his hands behind his back.

“It is… good to see you again, Doctor. I did not know where you had gone, and you were away for quite some time. I…”

He trailed off. You still hadn’t moved, rooted to the spot as you stared at him. You couldn’t help but remember the dream, how vivid it had been; he’d looked as real as he did now, standing just a few feet away.

“Doctor?”

“I’m fine,” you said, sounding far away. “What about you? Did they do anything to you?”

His eyes softened.

“Do not fret, dear one. I am unharmed.”

And just like that, your paralysis was broken. But it still felt like something of a dream as you slowly make your way to stand in front of him. You examined him, though it felt more like you were drinking him in than checking him over.

“I’m glad,” came your delayed response.

049 tilted his head.

“Indeed? I had the impression you were sore with me, and… I cannot altogether blame you.”

“No, no, I’m not mad. Not at all.” You stepped closer, the motion unsteady as you stopped yourself quicker than was natural. “I’m sorry for the things I said. About you and Pernella. There’s no excuse for it, and I’m just… sorry.”

The apology came easy, the words wanting to be voiced for too long. Your argument seemed so small, insignificant with what had happened since then. Just a few hours ago, 049 admitted he would rather see you dead than infected with the Pestilence, and you’d thrown Pernella’s murder back in his face. Now, all you wanted was for him to close the distance. Hold you so that you wouldn’t fall to pieces, your seams left tattered by 035 and further pulled apart by 682’s unthinkable fate.

“As am I,” 049 said. “I upset you, something I never wish to do.”

You gave him a brittle smile, all you could afford in front of the observation window. But it was difficult with his grey eyes studying you, nearly staring you down in that way he did. He never simply looked at a thing, he had to consume it until he understood how it functioned. It wasn’t his fault—he didn’t know the kind of effect it was having on you now.

It wasn’t fair. The dream had provided you with the taste of something forbidden, taken without 049’s knowledge or consent. Then again, you hadn’t consented to being tested on with the coin, but that didn’t taint the contents of the dream. Maybe it should have, but pleasurable things were few and far between in this place, and the dream had felt so… right. Unquestionable. Inevitable.

In hindsight, something like that would never happen. You weren’t the type to suddenly fall into bed with someone, burgeoning feelings or not, and you couldn’t imagine he was the same. And that was if he had any sort of interest in physical intimacy. Yet, in the dream, it had happened as naturally as breathing.

Now, you suffered with the result. 049 was right there in front of you, but you couldn’t touch him, not in the way you needed. Even if you knew what it felt like to hold him close. What he smelled like when you’d buried your face in the crook of his neck. How the weight of his hands naturally settled against the curve of your back. The quiet, breathy noises he could make while between your legs.

It wasn’t fair.

“Something within you is… different.”

He moved closer.

“Are you certain you’re unharmed?”

You licked your lips, chapped from dehydration. Telling 049 the truth, that you’d had a carnal, depraved dream about him, was out of the question. You could be honest about some parts at least, things that Leahy either knew or wouldn’t care about.

“I spoke with 035.”

049 moved so quickly you didn’t have time to react, his hands cupping your shoulders as his gaze went hard.

“What did he do?”

You floundered, struggling to speak with his sudden close proximity.

“He just… talked. A lot. He didn’t hurt me.”

His hard expression didn’t lose its edge.

“Inflicting harm is all he knows how to do—"

It’s why he harbors such hatred for me, 035’s voice echoed in your head. I’m his twisted reflection.

“—and words are his greatest weapon.”

You mentally shook the mask from your thoughts; you hadn’t wanted him in your head during the interview, and you certainly didn’t want him lingering now.

049 loosened his grip, his expression falling into something less harsh.

“How did you two communicate? Was he given a host?”

You winced.

“I… had to wear him. But he couldn’t control me. He couldn’t!” You placed your hand on 049’s arm when his eyes widened, panic forming in them. “We could hear each other’s thoughts, but he couldn’t do much more than be a nuisance.”

You conveniently left out the part where you and 035 had crossed some kind of line. 049 didn’t need to be stressed over something that happened only once, and it was unlikely you’d meet the mask again anytime soon. Leahy might be a cruel bastard, but he wasn’t stupid. After what happened at the end of the interview, and your supposed dream of escape together, it was unlikely he’d put you and 035 in the same room again.

You hoped.

049’s eyes were unrelenting; being on the end of that stare left you shifting on your feet and unable to meet his gaze. It wasn’t the guilt—though there was too much lying for your comfort—but the forcefulness of that gaze threatened to curl deep inside you to places you didn’t want him to reach, or become aware he could reach them at all.

“Really, I’m okay. Or, as okay as I can be, all things considered.”

His disbelief persisted in that stare, his sharp eyes dissecting and disseminating each expression that passed over your features.

You raised your chin so it didn’t sound like an admission, your gaze hovering around the base of his throat where the metal collar encircled. His wrists and ankles still held the shackles, but at least the connecting chains had been removed, allowing 049 to move freely instead of at a shuffling pace. Of course, he’d proven that he can simply break the chains when he wishes, as his last interview with Dr. Puli had demonstrated.

That’s when you realized something was missing: the shock collar. Lavender and the shock collar were the main methods used to control 049. If the shock collar had been removed, did that mean there wasn’t going to be any more testing with his cure?

“May I perform a cursory examination?”

Your thoughts went silent. You were unnaturally still, your breath caught in your throat as your heart jackhammered a panicked rhythm.

049 moved a step closer, concern softening his voice as he asked, “Doctor?”

It had to be a coincidence. Surely this wasn’t…

“Yes.” Your answer came out weak, no force behind it.

And just like in the dream, 049 gently took your face in his hands, carefully studying you in a way that didn’t feel entirely professional.

“Your skin is damaged. Raw from a mild burn.”

“Oh, yeah,” you faintly said, repeating your words from the dream. “The decontamination shower.”

049 narrowed his eyes.

“Barbarians.”

You were like two actors paying your part in a play, but infectious warmth didn’t seep through your veins, begging you to draw closer. And 049 didn’t apologize, because you had already made amends. The dream wasn’t going to come true. This was a good thing. You should be relieved.

Instead, all you felt was a strange sense of déjà vu when 049 said, “You need to rest.” He was standing so close you would be able to touch his robes if you raised your arms just a few inches. His hands were still lightly cupping the sides of your jaw.

“I think I’ll do that.”

You tried to keep your voice steady, to not show any sign that holding you this close was a different kind of torture. You wanted to pull away, maintain that distance that would keep you both safe, but the urge to move forward and surrender to his arms was dangerously strong. It was like standing on a cliff edge, only the breeze holding you aloft, waiting to see what would happen if you tipped.

049’s hands lingered for a moment before they dropped away entirely. It was cold, sterile air that remained in his wake, a reminder of what this facility was without him. You wished you could reach out and grab him, lead him by the hand to the bed; not to play out the rest of the dream, but to have his comfort and provide a bit of your own. His life hadn’t been any easier since you’d entered it, and while you weren’t directly responsible, you did wish to shield him from it. Protect him in what little way you could.

But you didn’t do any of that. You passed him by, pulling out your duffel bag so you could change into your usual white smock and leggings, wanting to be rid of the flimsy nightgown.

Once you were dressed—and not looking over your shoulder to see if 049 had given you privacy or not—you crawled into bed. 049’s scent lingered fresh on the pillows; he must have used the bed while you were gone.

Had he slept to pass the time? Tried to distract himself from the boredom of a brilliant mind confined to a sterile container? You didn’t know, but you breathed in his scent, burying your face into the material with the pretense of trying to get settled.

You were just desperate for comfort, that was all. After this last round of testing, you didn’t know how much you could take. But there was a worse alternative to the continued tests. Between 049 and you, it seemed the Foundation was taking turns with its abuse, and you hoped the pendulum wasn’t swinging back his way.

…despite the benefits it can provide with its altered abilities, 049 is expendable.

He wasn’t expendable. He was far more important than Leahy or even Dr. Puli understood. 049 deserved more than this prison, trapped and denied the basic freedom of fresh air and sunlight.

And then there was 682, writhing in eternal agony, a fate even he didn’t deserve. A fate that 049 could easily succumb to if Leahy decided to get rid of him permanently.

As you listened to the SCP scratch his pen across the pages of his journal, you curled your hand into the sheets. If Leahy did anything to 049 like what he had done to 682, you would burn this place to the ground.

***

You awoke to screams; your own, though they sounded nothing like you. Your hands pulled at your clothing, searching for holes and marred flesh, torn inside out by a cosmic singularity. Leahy’s orders echoed in your head: interact with the black hole, only to find out you couldn’t escape it, trapped in a cycle of eternal torment.

Hands pressed on your shoulders, and you chocked on your next scream, fighting against the pressure around you, but 049 hushed you, gentle and soft.

“It was only a nightmare. It cannot harm you.”

You gripped his robes and pressed your face against his neck, desperate to be as close as possible. Camera be damned.

“I’ve worked for the Foundation long enough to know that isn’t true,” you said, trembling.

049 moved closer, now sitting on the edge of the bed. He lacked the usual hesitation and propriety; he held on as if he didn’t want to let go, and you let yourself be held, your body slowly relaxing. You’d needed this for too long, and it was a shame that only a nightmare gave you the courage to ask what he clearly was willing to give.

Something touched the side of your neck, and it took you a moment to realize it was his “beak,” gently pressing against the side of your throat. You didn’t know exactly what it meant, he’d never done that before, but the gesture felt naturally intimate. As if he was an actual bird affectionately rubbing his beak against the feathers of another.

You would have been content to stay that way, but 049 let go first, pulling away until he could meet your eye.

“You should try to get more rest.”

That was the last thing you wanted, returning to the nightmares that surely await, but 049 didn’t leave. Instead, he moved one hand up to your jaw, cradling your face while rubbing a thumb against your cheek. At this angle, the camera wouldn’t be able to see.

He was being careful. You should too, but right now, you couldn’t.

“Stay with me?”

The words came out too small, but 049’s answer was without hesitation.

“Of course. Whatever you need of me.”

That familiar twisting of your stomach returned, and you moved further back to make room. This time when he laid down, he did so under the covers. You weren’t sure if you reached for him or if he pulled you in first, but you were nestled in his arms. Tucked under his beak, the appendage resting lightly atop your head, and with your head against his chest you could hear his heartbeat. You knew he had a heart, but it was still startling to find, pumping a steady rhythm under the shell of his robes.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“As I said.” His words carried through his chest, a pleasant rumble against your ear. “Anything you require.”

God, you wished he wouldn’t say it like that. What you required was sleep. What your brain unhelpfully supplied were images on how he could help you do that, and unfortunately, your mind had plenty of ammunition. 049 felt exactly as he did in the dream, his scent surrounding you, each intake of breath solely him. You may have stopped trembling from the aftereffects of your most recent nightmare, but you had other problems now. Heat flooded your skin and a dull throbbing ached between your legs.

Despite the soft texture of his robes and the soothing warmth he radiated, sleep didn’t come easy. 049 began to slowly rub your back—he must have known you were still awake. You readjusted yourself so there was even less space between you, and 049’s sharp intake of breath was almost enough for you to push, to find out what would happen if you asked more of him than you ever should.

But in the end, as always, the camera stopped you. Whatever they recorded would be used against you and 049. That wasn’t something you could do to him, no matter how much you ached.

So you played off your movement as getting comfortable and relaxed by listening to his heart, the beat of it steady and true.

This one small thing was yours alone. A secret shared between you.

Next Chapter

[agothgirlsdiary]

Hey! Your account is rad btw, u seem SO cool. I wanna be able to express myself loudly as a goth/metalhead, but im having confidence troubles. Do u have any tips?

"Confidence troubles" is a bit vague - are you worried you won't look good to yourself, or are you worried about other people's perception of you and/or what they'll say?

If it's yourself you're worried about, tell yourself that nothing is permanent, you can always take off makeup/clothing, alter your wardrobe and style, and you don't have to dress up every single day. None of us do that. There are also so many different goth/metal styles to choose from, you'll find something eventually!

If other people are your concern, it's not worth it to even try. You could be the most confident, most put-together, most stylish person in the scene and someone will still have something to say. If that is a serious concern to you, or you feel like you wouldn't be able to handle it, it is genuinely in your best interest to just stick to the music for your health and well-being. You need to grow more as a person, have a steady support system, and focus on yourself before you should be thinking about "expressing yourself loudly". I am not trying to be mean at all - I am trying to save you so much pain and suffering that most people in the scene have been through lol. If you haven't already, look up Sophie Lancaster.

I hope that was helpful to some degree, also please don't take this as me being mean or cruel - I am genuinely speaking from experience and hate seeing others in the scene suffer.