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too-much-tma-stuff · 2 months

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Finally Getting Help (prt 6)

Masterpost

The Wayne family gathered in the family room once Alfred was done setting up the projector, somehow there was also a plate of cookies and a couple pots of tea on the coffee table. How he’d found the time they didn’t know, he always seemed to be doing just a little more than should be possible but they didn’t question it.

Jazz seemed nervous as she plugged in her USB and accessed the power point on Ghosts and Liminality. The tidal page had a picture of Danny in his Phantom form standing with a group of others, a boy with gray skin and blond hair, a girl with green hair and skin, and a goth with purple eyes and a dark skinned boy who looked around Danny’s age, and Jazz with the title “Ghosts and Liminals!”

The next slide had simple text: “What are they and How are they made?”

With each slide she read the text on the screen allowed and then added any context or anecdotes she thought of, or had prepared.

(Next slide)

Ghosts:

Made of ectoplasmic energy and obsession

Made either:

when someone dies with strong enough desires

An idea gains enough traction to take on a life of its own

Immutable concepts and gods

Must be allowed to indulge in obsessions or they will cease to exist

All have basic abilities such as flight, intangibility, invisibility, and minor shape shifting

On top of basic abilities most will have additional powers based on their obsessions

Immortal unless killed

Love to fight

Liminals

Made when a human is exposed to high levels of ectoplasm for prolonged periods of time

Have some ghostly traits

Ghostly traits vary person to person

Less susceptible to human illness and injury

“The ghosts on the picture are Kitty and Johnny, we’ve had problems with them but would consider them friends now. They’re the ghosts of two humans who died, but there are others, Vortext for instance is the ghost of Storms. Those ghosts who come from ideas are called ‘neverborns’. There seem to be almost an infinite number of ghosts, however not all of them are interested in having anything to do with us so we tend to get the same faces showing up a lot in Amity.

“I don’t know how many liminals there are. I thought they might be new with my parents' research but as I look into it more I think there are more natural sources of ectoplasm then my parents thought.” Jazz explained before going to transition to the next slide.

“I have a question-” Bruce started before Jazz hushed him.

“Wait till the end please! I might answer it without you having to ask,” She scolded, and he felt very much like a schoolboy again as his children snickered.

(Next slide including a image of the glowing green viles in the Fenton’s lab and a glowing green crystal)

Ghost biology

Ghosts do not have any recognizable organs or bones

The only solid part of their being is their Core which is the source of their ectoplasm

Any injury to a ghosts form not done directly to their core is considered minor and will heal

A healthy ghost is fully capable of mending any damage including removed limbs in a matter of hours or days depending on extent of the injury

All injuries not including the Core are considered minor

Ghosts are considered young for at least the first hundred years of their existence and are often not considered adults until nearly 500

A caveat to this is ghosts are heavily driven by emotion and will often be the age they feel they are allowing ghosts to mature much more quickly, or more slowly

When this is the case ghosts are treated as the age they present and behave

Ghosts reproduce by shaping ectoplasm and Wanting a child badly enough

“Believe me it was incredibly scary the first time I saw Danny in his ghost form have something go right through his stomach. It took him a long time to convince me it wasn’t a big deal and it barely hurt. He does have to make sure he repairs the damage Before turning human again though or the damage can transfer over and I don’t need to tell you a hole in the gut is a lot more serious for humans!

“If I’m honest I only know ghosts that have stayed younger then they really are, for instance Youngblood who’s a few hundred years old and could be well on his way to adulthood if he wanted but has remained a child. I assume it can go the other way though, if a ghost is very mature for their age.”

Ectoplasm

Ectoplasm is the energy that makes up all ghosts and the Ghost Zone itself. All ghosts can feed on the ectoplasm around them as well as produce their own by indulging in obsessions. The ghosts Cores produce the ectoplasm like a brain produces neurochemicals when exposed to the right stimulation.

Ectoplasm is a powerful source of energy but unstable. When it is stabilized into an ecto-crystal it is more stable and can be used as a power source safely by ghosts and liminals.

“Most ectoplasm is green like you see in the pictures. But it isn’t the only colour, some other ghosts produce different colours and it is highly tied to what emotion drives them. When it’s pure it usually smells like petracore but it can get pretty foul.”

(next slide)

What are Obsessions

Every ghost has one or more obsessions

They can be very literal things such as boxes, or ideas and emotions such as Love

In rarer cases they may have dual obsessions

Unlike for humans obsessions are very healthy for ghosts

Ghosts need to indulge their obsessions

Sometimes the way ghosts indulge their obsessions might seem evil, however it is almost always just amoral

Obsessions shape every part of a ghost from their powers to thier physical appearance, to befriend a ghost you Must understand and aid their obsession

In very extreme circumstances a ghosts obsession may shift, sometimes this is healthy, more often it is a result of extreme trauma

“With my interest in psychology this was sort of hard for me to accept. From the outside the way ghosts obsess seems really unhealthy but it’s what gives them life. When not allowed to indulge in their obsessions ghosts will dysregulate and go to extreme lengths to try and get their obsession, if that doesn’t work they either go dormant if their core is still healthy enough or they will melt.

“Ghosts change their obsessions very rarely, I’ve heard of it happening as they heal. For instance once a ghost has gotten revenge for themselves, if that was their obsession, their obsession might shift to avenging other people, or even protecting them so they don’t need to be avenged.”

(Next Slide)

Ghost Culture

The Ghosts have a monarchy

The title of the Ghost King is not hereditary but passed through trial by combat

Under the monarch is a council of being known as Observants, and powerful and old ghosts called Ancients

Ghosts respect strength and value power and cunning in combat a lot

Ghosts bond with each other through combat and play fight with family and friends often

“I have down that the ghosts are a monarchy, and technically that is true but the current Ghost King was a tyrant who was locked away thousands of years ago. I’m sure as soon as someone shows up who’s powerful enough to beat him his court will be happy to pick up where they left off with a better King, or queen, though I don’t think the title has to change based on gender.

“I really can’t stress enough how violent ghosts are! Because nothing short of having their cores shattered can kill them, play fighting for them can look Very Much like a murder attempt to a human. A lot of the issues we’ve had with ghosts have come from them just not understanding quite how fragile humans, and for most of them they feel really bad once they know they actually Hurt someone by shooting them. It’s really best for everyone when they’re kept separate and Ghosts can happily tear each other apart in peace.”

Liminals

The result of long term low level exposure to ectoplasm, sudden high doses are almost always deadly

Liminals Can have almost every trait a ghost can, usually having a combination of a few

Commonalities between liminals include

Minor cosmetic changes such as: glowing eyes, pointed ears, and/or sharp teeth

Increased stamina, strength, and aggression

Increased obsessive behaviour

Liminals sometimes develop powers shaped by the strength and type of obsession

“Most of the people Danny and I know are liminals. I don’t want to talk about them in case they don’t want to be outed so I’ll talk about myself and my parents. We all had prolonged exposure after all. My ears are pointed,” She said brushing her hair back so they could see them, “And Danny is a little more then liminal but even in human form he has fangs.

“My parents didn’t realize it but they could to the point they could subsist on their obsession without needing to eat or sleep as often as a regular human would. About a year ago I started developing the ability to tap into and feel other peoples emotions, I can feed on them a little too but I try not to because the Worst ghost we met did that and I don’t want to be anything like her.”

(Next Slide)

In conclusion

Ghosts are not evil even though sometimes their actions are hard to understand

Never get between ghosts when they’re fighting each other but it’s usually safe to yell at them to remind them not to break anything

Never get between a ghost and their obsession

Don’t drink ectoplasm unless you know you’re already liminal

“I have a feeling the section about liminals will be familiar to a bunch of you. I know Damian is liminal though I don’t know how he was exposed to ectoplasm and some of you,” Her eyes skirted across Tim and Bruce. “Are toeing the line. You’ll probably notice Damian and Danny getting really close, and they might get in some really vicious looking fights. I promise Danny is playing at least.”

The family was left silent for a moment, Bruce knew he was thinking about Jason. Who had died, been exposed to.. What certainly seemed to be something like Lazarus water and come back, obsessive, aggressive, and emotional. He wished he’d had this powerpoint a long time ago. It helped understand Damian too but mostly he was thinking about Jason. He needed to reach out again, maybe meeting Danny would be good for Jason?

“So uhhh, ya, that’s the end of the powerpoint?” Jazz said, shifting from foot to foot in the awkward silence. “Any questions?”

#danny phantom #fanfiction #dc x dp #jasmine fenton #bruce wayne #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #liminal #tim drake #jason todd #trans!danny #the batfamily #danny is pregnant au #finally getting help au #vlad is a creep #dc stands for disregard cannon

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writingforatwistedworld · 6 months

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Self-aware au

Written before the English release!

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Jp-version spoiler(!!!), death, description of war, unhealthy mindset, religion, obsessive themes, unhealthy family dynamics

General! Lilia Vanrouge/(Platonic) Maleanor Draconia/(Platonic) Knight of Dawn-Yandere headcanons

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce? Lilia Vanrouge 1.0. The more cold, hard and ready to behead the next human version of the usual Lilia (also known as the Lilia Vanrouge 2.0 model)

Lilia back then was “rough” and I am being nice calling him that

Back then, Lilia was surrounded by loss and a lot of Faes getting everything they ever owned ripped away from them

Of course this impacts him (I mean he is strolling through battlefield after battlefield so of course it does)

Lilia wasn't always such a devoted follower

Yes, he did believe in the Overseer, aka you, but only after witnessing the brutality that came with him being a general did he turn into a follower with such drastic views

After all, if there was no higher meaning to all this violence, to all this loss and despair, what was even the point of it all?

You became his moral, mental and also a bit of a physical crutch for him

Whenever he felt like he was this close to just giving up, he thought about you and that this was part of your greater plan (totally not part of some valley church propaganda)

After witnessing that human hiding behind the Knight of Dawn in all his haughtiness and cruelty, he finally set out on his quest not only to make the humans leave his beloved home but also to make them into loyal believers of the Overseer

But sadly, everything was for nought and Lilia had to go into hiding

The only thing keeping him going was his believe in you having a greater plan

A few hundred years later and Lilia finally found out what that supposed plan of yours was

Laying in that cold, lonely crib was the child of his old, now deceased enemy

Taking the child, now called Silver, in he learned the joy of a family, the boy giving him more joy than anything ever before in his life

Finally, he had found peace. Of course he did. This was your plan all along, right? You must have ordered those three fairies to make his beloved son survive until now, right?

You were, after all, a kind deity. There was no way this was all just a war happening because of greed. Because if this truly was just events happening after events then...

Lilia never finished that thought

The great ruler of the night fae, mighty and powerful sorceress who could fell an entire nation in one swoop if she wanted to was despite her cruel and aloof outside appearance a pretty devoted follower since the beginning

Despite being a Fae, she was feared just like her unborn son due to her powers (and being more or less being on the same level as a nuclear bomb but hey, I doubt that anyone of us would stand next to one of those, right?)

So it is no surprise that she turned to something, someone, to feel less alone

Especially after her husband disappeared did she wish for some sort of sign that she was not alone

And oh boy, did religious propaganda from the high church take that loneliness away

When her beloved son, although in an egg, was born, she visited your altar daily, thanking you for her child being healthy

(This could also be the reason why Malleus is the way he is but I am just a writer and not some all-knowing God so idk, just a theory)

She definitely has "taken care" *cough*totallynotproblematicforarulertobeinfluencedbyreligion*cough* of Fae that were non-believers

How dare their sinful ways dirty your holy image?

See? Totally not problematic

At first she only tried to protect her subjects after the humans attacked and took over parts of her kingdom

But after a while she started to have another goal

What if she shared your splendor with those little useless invaders?

Humans were most definitely vile but you were able to unite so many different kinds of Fae in your name under the Draconia name

So why not also unite those humans in your name in a peace treaty?

Such a kind God you were! Allowing for peace in your name!

And, well, if violence and destruction was needed to make those beings understand and surrender, then that shall be what they get

Besides, she was only honoring her husbands wish to get closer to the humans so who was she to selfishly aim for another goal?

The Knight of Dawn (long name, I know) did not always believe in you

Heck, the poor guy probably never heard of you until he fought the Fae

But if the humans from back then didn't really know about you, then how did he find out about and why did he start to see you as his God?

On this part, I would say, he and Lilia were eerily similair

Both were pushed into a war neither liked, so of course he was also in a very unstable situation which made him, like Lilia, search for something to hold on to

The three Fairies had mentioned before when he was still training to become as strong as he was now, mentioning a kind deity who accepted all, who loved unconditionally

Back then he only thought of you as one of the many deities that were prayed to back then

But once the war started and he saw your churches and cathedrals for the first time, his opinion slowly started to shift until he saw you as the highest being possible

I mean, all of us would if we lost all stability over night, having only destroyed buildings and a half-standing church in front of us

He hated the plundering of your sacred placed even before he became a believer, having the opinion that it was just a cultural difference between the two kinds

This led to him kneeling at the cracked altars of many of your churches, asking for forgiveness, hoping that you would understand that he didn't have another choice

What he would do to witness one of your sermons…

And when he was lonely enough, he imagined you watching down on him from up above

Just like a... a parent

You see where I am going with this?

So when he was facing the Queen he only hoped for your forgiveness, hoping that his loving family member would forgive his gravest sin, him killing a mother

And he found salvation, in letting that child and the retainer escape

Perhaps you could forgive him now

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dadsbongos · 4 months

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i eat your skin - f.megumi

part of the jjk movie marathon event / movie selection … warnings - cunnilingus (fem reader), title sounds like vore smut but it isn't i promise word count - 3.7 K / rating - R

Megumi braces his hands on his knees, brows pinched tight in preemptive annoyance. Satoru spindles over him, shadowing the younger man almost completely - and it only serves to irritate Megumi that he’d refused to sit down. Furiously determined to forever humiliate his former pupil, Megumi assumes.

Or, he would, if Satoru hadn’t actually agreed to give him advice about a little… situation.

“Alright, now when you see her, look at me- seriously, look at me, Megumi,” Satoru’s face is lethally drawn, usual bright grin tugged low and serious with furrowed brows to match, “Megumi, you cannot let her intimidate you,” Megumi opens his mouth, a vile retort slithers back down his throat when Satoru interrupts, “No, I know you, and you’ll feel all sick,” he mocks a frown, even pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, “You’ll get all nervous. But you cannot let her intimidate you out of it.”

“I’ll hardly die asking her out,” Megumi rolls his eyes, one hand lathering the sweat in his palms against his sweatpants and the other scratching the back of his neck, “Maybe this just isn’t a good idea…”

“And what? Be a miserable wimp the rest of your life?” Satoru folds his arms across his chest, “You’ve liked her since you were first years.”

“And?”

“You’re graduates now!”

“So?”

“‘So,’” Satoru mimics Megumi’s sulking nature, voice deep and neanderthal-ish in nature, “Be greedier, kid!” he flicks the younger man’s forehead, “You’ll die one day. You’ll die. Whether it be on a mission, or in your hospital bed as a diseased old man - you can’t stop it. So, why deprive yourself of something you really want when it all ends the same?”

Megumi can’t exactly pinpoint the reason he even came to his old legal guardian for help over, say, Nanami. He definitely should’ve gone to Nanami, at least he could’ve given Megumi genuine advice that isn’t some children’s show morale of “just tell her how you feel!” - he could’ve done that any day.

When Megumi opens his mouth to protest, Satoru flicks him again.

“You think your special one,” Megumi gags loudly at the title, and Satoru pays it no mind, “is gonna sit around her entire life not having fun and being young? Getting dates?” Satoru nods to himself when Megumi doesn’t reply, “Duh.”

“I want this to be special,” Megumi insists, both hands coming to rest in his lap now, he squeezes them together, lacing his fingers and imagining how yours would look with him instead, “I want- “

He wants and wants and wants and does nothing.

He needs to be someone you simply can’t fathom saying no to, he needs it so bad his stomach churns just like Satoru said it would.

“Alright, I know it can be difficult for you - not being me, after all,” a large hand claps on Megumi’s shoulders and he looks up to see the beaming face attached, “But trust me, kid, this whole idea of a ‘special’ confession is archaic bullshit compared to just being yourself.”

“I thought girls liked special confessions?”

“Sexist: not all girls automatically like the same things,” his former teacher shakes his head, sighing out each disappointed fiber trapped in his soul, “And if she doesn’t accept a plain, Megumi-style date proposition, then her shock and awe over a sick-as-hell graphic novel confession isn’t going to make for a healthy relationship.”

“Hm,” Megumi bites back frustrated curses, taking the words and molding them into a more conventional way that actually makes sense. He nods, “Okay.”

“Exactly,” Satoru stands back, giving Megumi room to rise from his bed, “Oh, but one thing that does help?” the older man grins wickedly, “Eat her out. Direct line to a woman’s heart is through eating her pussy.”

“Shut up,” Megumi huffs, pointing at his wide-open bedroom door, “Shut up. Shut up and get the hell out.”

“Jeez,” Satoru yanks at the already loose collar of his plain black shirt, “I thought we left teen angst behind. Just give it some thought! And also, I wanted to ask- “

Megumi huffs, falling back onto his bed, still pointing at the door.

“If,” and in true fashion, Satoru continues, maybe even a little louder (just to prove a point), “you wanted to watch a movie?”

“No,” Megumi immediately answers.

“C’mon! It’s this or paperwork I have to do.”

Megumi’s eye roll gives Satoru no more room for pleading, and so he stalks back to the living room. Dragging his socked feet over a shaggy black rug towards the door, he takes a final peek over his shoulder at the boy on his bed. Stupid mouth in a stupid pout and stupid nose forcing stupid crocodile sniffles, Satoru acts out a picturesque performance. And if his blindfold were off, Megumi is certain he’d catch big blue eyes framed by batting white lashes.

“No, “ Megumi rolls his eyes again, “‘m going out.”

…

Blushy top with faded blue bell bottoms and a shiny, thin chain that dangles across your chest, Megumi’s eyes flit away from your figure just as quick as they’d found you. Everything’s a little murky under the purple LEDs, but he thinks you’ve worn that before. He thinks you’re somehow more beautiful now. He looks away, snaking through a narrow, picture-framed hallway at Yuuji’s back to this house’s kitchen. There are no light strips strapped across the kitchen walls, simple and plain and unflattering fluorescent bulbs send a gentle cream wash over the walls.

With only a handful of straggling bodies leaning against peeling-edged faux wood cabinets and spotted countertops, there’s more room to breathe than in the hall. Red Solo cups from every teen movie nightmare decorate hands and unnerving corners. Some more anxious part of him wants to reach out and push every precarious ruby further back into secure landing, but he doesn’t.

Two women in complimentary spaghetti strap dresses flounce out of the kitchen with looped arms. They’re sunk into the plum tank until Megumi can’t see them at all anymore.

“Oh, like that!” you muse, nudging your chin towards a pair in matching floral print dresses that reach about mid-thigh, “Exactly my point.”

“That’s hardly 70s influenced,” the man in front of you - Jirou? Junto? Jouji? you don’t really recall - shakes his head, “Just flowers.”

“No, no, look at the trim,” you’re trying your hardest not to point but this guy just cannot pinpoint the details in your mind to save his life, “It’s flowy and mesh. Sort of. That’s a little more flower child era, right?”

“I guess, if your only experience in that fashion was movies,” you huff at the response and he laughs in the face of such exasperation.

“Whatever! You’re so difficult.”

“Hobby,” it’s so plain out of his lips. Like you should somehow be expecting that snark.

“Oh my God…” you can hardly believe someone could be so obtuse. A contrarian just for the fun of it, “And are you normally invited to parties for that?”

“Oh, no,” his tone, again, betrays some delusion that you should already know the answer, but this time you do already know. Who invites a conversation killer to an event? “I got dragged here by a friend. Don’t even know who the host is.”

You snicker, one hand smothering the sight of your mouth, “That makes more sense.”

Megumi can see the hand that binds, you usually don’t string it up around those you’re close with. Like Yuuji and Nobara and Maki and Miwa from Kyoto and your friends that live closer to the coast and the friends that don’t and your parents and him. So you’d think he’d know better than to let a big, gangly, clawed, green beast sprout and grow and suck away at his gut.

Even though that hand is a sign of some rising desire to be out of that conversation, he still hates being across the room when it happens. Because that’s still some semblance of a shining star behind the flesh. Some laugh or smile he’s not next to.

And it isn’t like he hates when you’re out with others. What he hates is being in the same room with someone potentially more captivating than he is.

He hopes you like him best because he’s the most familiar and drawing, and it’s disturbing when someone else might be more homely and more charming and more absorbing. He hates the curdling illness of jealousy and he hates to be this way when you two aren’t even together, but most of all he hates that maybe you’ll prefer someone else simply because they’re better at his craft than he is.

So Megumi watches and rots quietly with thick, spindling vines spreading and tangling him to the kitchen doorway as you talk to a guy whose name he doesn’t know. It’s pathetic and waning most unbearably.

“Stop staring, it’s weird,” Yuuji chastises, chunking part of his weight against Megumi’s side, an elbow shelved on Megumi’s shoulder, “Just go up and say something, if you wanna talk to her.”

“Yeah, it’s that easy,” Megumi jerks through the vines and into the hungry waters of a living room party with a snapping, starved crowd before finding the optimal spot: a plain wall with no posters or pictures to snag and smack down.

Yuuji trails after, his white shirt reflecting a blinding shade of lavender from beneath his puffer jacket. Much easier to track down than Megumi’s gloomy, funeral-grade attire. Yuuji capitalizes on the empty space so ugly at Megumi’s side, staking claim to the wall with a huff, “It is, by the way. You two are friends. Go tell her you’re here.”

“But then I’d have to,” Megumi’s mouth zips shut, head tilting as he snakes a hand through some imaginary crowd.

“I guess,” Yuuji wants to shake Megumi at times like this. He wants to shake you too, sometimes. But mostly he imagines squeezing Megumi’s shoulders and smacking him around, but he never does.

Maybe just the first part.

All out of love.

“Okay,” so Yuuji pivots, swerving in front of his best friend and taking one shoulder in each hand, “You need to do something or you’re going to sit here and be pouty, dude.”

“I’m not pouty.”

“Biggest lie in Tokyo, brother,” Yuuji purses his lips, eyes flitting to where you are, “I’ll get her over here if you really don’t want to.”

“Hm?” Megumi’s brows furrow, neck craning closer as if he could somehow mishear the man.

“Just pretend to be busy or some shit and I’ll brave the crowd,” Yuuji goes to walk away, suddenly pausing and placing a hand over Megumi’s heart, “And if I don’t return, sing songs for me by a nice lake every anniversary.”

“Whatever,” Megumi knocks away the hand but is already pulling out his phone to perform the charade. His eyes lock onto the screen and he soldiers on to not rip them away and give slight that this was planned.

…

“Do you think I could maybe get your number?”

“Oh!” no, God no - you wish you were better at saying that, “Uh,” it’s not even as if you dislike this guy, you just don’t think any conversation with him could amount past what it has.

Wow, you’re a pain in the ass! Yeah but it’s funny, right? Not if it’s on purpose. Especially if it’s on purpose! Sure, if that’s what you think. You do think it’s funny, right? Sure. Come on, it is! Sure.

And dry replies make you want to claw your eyes out more when you have to give them than when you receive them.

So when the bony fingers of Yuuji creep upon your side, it’s like the first drink of water after sifting through thick bowls and hills of sandy desert. He leans his head down into your peripheral, grinning brightly, “Miss me?”

“Yuuji!” you cheer, turning to… Junsei? and laying a flat palm under Yuuji’s chin, “This is my buddy, who I didn’t know was coming.”

“I texted you,” he pinches your side, “Fushiguro’s busy, so I’m fetching you for the night,” and you wonder if he might feel the stiffness of your muscles and the rigid air, “Sorry, man, but she’s got serious business tonight!”

“Oh,” Junzo! Junzo’s forehead crinkles, nose wrinkling at the bluntness of this cocky new stranger, “Uh…”

“See you around,” maybe it’s a lie, maybe it isn’t. You wave and let Yuuji keep you pressed to his side. You wait until you’re certain the surrounding affairs of other people drown whatever you could say to Yuuji, “Thank you for that. He was asking for my number and I just didn’t know what to say…”

“No,’” he shrugs.

“Oh, like you could’ve done that.”

“I could’ve!”

But Yuuji can do anything, so that isn’t fair.

“‘gumi!” you cheer upon getting close to the boy, arms splaying wide before wringing yourself around his neck, “I was worried you weren’t coming!”

He hesitates before having the misfortune to hear Satoru’s words once again. Be greedier. Be greedier. So he gently settles both hands on your back, pushing you chest-to-chest, “Yeah, well, Itadori wouldn’t let me stay in.”

“Poor baby,” you step back, and Megumi takes notice in how you maintain your hands’ position over his shoulders, nails picking at fluff on his shirt.

Megumi, regrettably, can still hear Satoru in the back of his head. Greedier, greedier, greedier. It chokes him up, the idea of selfishly taking you for himself. But what really grips him is the terrible way your gaze flits from his face to other men - unintentionally, he’s sure. But it drives him wild all the same.

“I hate big parties,” Megumi boldly cradles the bend of your waist with his hand, fingers splaying wide over the curve. He tugs you closer, thighs nearly brushing, “Crowd’s a pain in the ass.”

“Ah, no, c’mon, what’s that Great Gatsby quote?” who’s to say, he hasn't read that book, “‘I like large parties. They’re so intimate…’” you shrug, bottom lip tugging between your teeth when he doesn’t show any recognition, “‘At small parties there isn’t any privacy.’”

“You actually remembered that shit?”

You titter coyly, “Maybe I saw it on one of those book quotes videos. Maybe I remembered it.”

“Well, it’s a stupid quote. There’s too much noise at big parties, it’s hard to hear people.”

“You hear me just fine,” that’s just because he’s leaning closer and trying harder than he does for most people, “Besides, I like it. At big parties you can just fuck off and do your own thing, you know? At small parties there’s this expectation to be around everyone and interact with everyone and be having fun with the group.”

Finally, it seems to click, he nods slowly, “You like to get away from the crowd?”

“Yeah,” you scratch the side of your arm, then your neck, and it’s so odd how just thinking about how uncomfortable your skin is that you can get so itchy, “Hard to do that when the crowd’s five people and a dog.”

“Well,” Megumi can feel Yuuji’s stare, and it takes everything in him to not knock the kid up his skull, “If you wanna get away, I’m sure - uh,” he’s suddenly humiliated by his own hubris, “I’m sure there’s room… upstairs…”

You grace him with a patient nod, hands lowering from his shoulders to lace your fingers together, “I’m sure there is.”

…

“So…”

Megumi nods, head slowly tilting so he’s staring up at you through his long lashes, “So.”

You lean closer, shoulder pressing and nose bumping against his, “So?”

The heat from Megumi’s cheeks wavers over you, his flesh ripe with crimson. You want to bite him. Leave a terrible mark that he couldn’t possibly cover up; maybe he’d let it bleed through his dark shirt. Maybe he’d let you lick it clean.

“You look nice,” he tucks his face down, heated skin now flush against your top. His brows furrow, uncertain, “Really nice.”

Megumi wonders what Satoru or Yuuji would do. They’re greedier than him by nature. More outgoing.

They would’ve done something years ago.

Suddenly, you grin. All sharp teeth and nails pricking over his thigh, through his pants. Your eyes stare down at him over the bridge of your nose, and you lean closer - smothering any space he’d initially put between your bodies.

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

Megumi’s eyes widen, warmth beating over his face and the back of his neck. He flails for a response, trapped under your piercing gaze, before finally settling on a response that he hopes pleases you.

“Do you want me to?”

You frown; something in his chest stings, a chord pulled awry. The tug of your lips is all a ploy, a mesmerizing color to disguise venom, “Don’t you want to, ‘gumi?” you pull away, leaning back with your hands pressed to the mattress below, “Don’t you want me?”

A cold breeze from this stranger’s open window takes up residence across Megumi’s sweltering skin. He hates it. He wants to get up from the bed altogether and slam the window shut. He wants to take you in both hands and sink himself into the softness of your skin. He thinks you’d be savory.

He wants to be certain.

So both of his hands mold to your hips, melting his exposed skin to yours.

Fingers dipping into the waistband of your bottoms, he bats his eyelashes and tucks his lower lip between fangs. He may draw blood. He cares not.

The oxygen is thin; hardly refreshing.

Megumi swallows the pooling want on his tongue, his fingers twitch against you, “Can I- “

“‘gumi…” you flatten yourself onto your back, hips tilting up into his palms, “Show me you want me.”

“Okay,” Megumi nods, air forced out of his throat through swollen hunger, “Okay.”

Once he’s gotten your pants off, Megumi presses open kisses against the inside of your thighs, following the swell to its natural apex. He digs the jab of his nose into you, lips impolitely fluttering against the seat of your panties before dipping his tongue out. Lolling the soft, soaked muscle over the clinging fabric, he feels his chest clench at how you rock your hips down into his face.

He feels one of your hands wind into his messy hair, carding through the softness. He wants to make you tug it - pull cruelly and grind against his face. Take what he gives and selfishly demand more.

Megumi groans heartily into your clothed cunt when the slickness of his saliva pulls your wetness from the cloth; when the unabashed taste of you meets his tongue.

He nearly rips your panties down your legs, settling it in a ball at his side. Heart leaping up into his jaw at the mere thought of getting his tongue into you.

Laving his tongue between your folds, Megumi licks up to your clit and circles the bud - his hips jerking down into the plush mattress when you jolt up and tug his hair. He pulls his head back only to pucker his lips and drool onto your hole, adding to the sloshing wetness before steadying his shaky fingers against you.

Sucking your clit into his mouth, Megumi begins softly. Caressing the bundle of nerves with his warm tongue, blending flat, broad strokes with precision dances of the muscle over you. Meanwhile, he slicks his middle finger into your hole and moans in response to your gasp.

When he’s sure you’re wet and stretched enough, he adds a second finger and curls them both upwards. The muscles in his arm will be aching tomorrow, but he shoves that to the back of his mind. He presses and scissors and dips inside you until the pads of his fingers find sponge, and he hits there, and there again. And again. And again. And again.

He hits there until you’re fully babbling, gushing against his swollen, pink lips and chin. And he’s starting to babble back.

Vibrations are loosely strewn together as ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ‘cum on me’ are bound against your clit as he nuzzles closer into your heat. Burying himself between your thighs and finding himself releasing a moan into your cunt when your thighs clenched tightly around his head. The fat of your thighs snug over his ears.

Releasing your clit from between his lips with a soft ‘pop’, Megumi flays his tongue onto the exposed nerve. Hot puffs of air leave him with each groan and whimper as his desperation to make you cum hammers over him.

Finally, you yank his hair again and snap your hips into his tongue; cunt sucking his fingers in even deeper. You squeeze around him, back arching, and his name singing from your lips.

Megumi unfurls his fingers as your cum splashes out onto his waiting tongue and chin, riding you through the hurls of pleasure until your twitching legs crash back onto the mattress. Slowly, he slides his fingers out of you before licking up your excess release from the divots in your thighs and your cunt.

Unwinding your fingers, you settle for soothing his stinging scalp with gentle pets.

Eventually sitting up, Megumi gasps for air as you do, staring down at his fingers. Shining with your wetness.

“Still hungry?” you tease, voice ripped at the edges.

“Actually?” Megumi shrugs, “A little.”

The cocky air has dissipated from your body. Once tense and lively limbs were now useless against the bed.

Megumi jams both fingers into his mouth and sucks off your cum.

“Insatiable!” you huff.

Rouge has overtaken Megumi’s cheeks - worse than before - and he can’t meet your eyes after having swallowed what remained of your soak. He leans over onto his elbow to avoid crushing you, “Only when it’s you… I don’t,” he waves his hand around, “do this often…”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Megumi has to hide his grin, almost embarrassed to enjoy being praised, choosing to take up time looking around the room you’d shoved him into.

Idol posters with one constant member litter the walls. Pink concert tickets cover the desk. And many pictures with the same two people overwhelm Megumi’s sight. He feels an unsettled chill scrawl over his skin.

“Todo is going to kill me,” he grimaces.

“Was it worth it?”

Megumi doesn’t take long to respond, already trying to think of where and when he can get you under him again, “Definitely.”

Megumi’s proper death is drowning via punani tsunami *thumbs up emoji*

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi smut #megumi x you #megumi fluff #fushiguro smut #fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen movie marathon event

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month

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THE WRATH OF FIRE

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and an outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair was dark but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen, and her wrath was not different from the one that burned inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 7

The morning of her name day, the Queen congratulated her, "Eleven of age today. I wish you all the best."

Ysilla had risen from her seat next to Helaena to bow graciously, "I thank you, your Grace." The Queen smiled at her, a hint of pride in her eyes.

"You've finished the dress," she said, observing the white gown with green embroidery that Ysilla was wearing. The girl had found many new interests as she lived in the Capital. She had often spent time with Queen Alicent and other ladies who came to the castle as guests.

Ysilla had learned how to sow and make her dresses, including her riding attire for when she went flying on Darysyr's back. At five, she would have never thought that creating something of her own would make her feel so proud of herself. But being close to the Queen had introduced her to a more polished and elegant side that she had never thought would have enjoyed. But she did.

"Princess Ysilla is growing to be very fair," she heard Lady Redwine say.

That day, Ysilla and Helaena had to attend the Queen with the ladies. Ysilla had never liked that woman, always looking at her with sufficiency. But that had been the first time she had complimented her. When she was that skinny little girl of five dressed in simple clothes, people's eyes judged her.

The goat's daughter. Her father called her. And for long, she had felt like one.

She wanted to be liked and accepted by the people in the Red Keep. It was important. Alliances, rumors, and opinions were all linked. Bad rumors brought a bad reputation. And bad opinions did not bring good alliances. Or alliances at all.

"Princess Rhaenyra's second son seems healthy, your Grace," Lady Redwine said as Ysilla looked at Helaena's sawing work on her piece of cloth.

"Thank the Seven; both the mother and the child are healthy," Ysilla said, turning her eyes to observe her Queen. She had heard the strange tone of her voice crack, even if she was trying to keep her posture.

Ysilla had heard some whispers in the castle the day Jacaerys had been presented at court. But they had only grown worse when Lucaerys had been born. Both boys were dark-haired and had nothing of their father, Laenor Velaryon, in them.

"People say they are bastards," Aegon told her one day as they sat in his chambers, as they usually did, spending time together after their studies.

Ysilla regarded Aegon, "She could never do it." she said, "Rhaenyra would not cheat on her husband."

Aegon laughed as he lay on the ground. His purple eyes looked up at her, set on the cousins of the furniture. "Why?"

"We've studied politics, Aegon," she said, glaring down at him.

He smiled again, "I like to hear you read."

Ysilla sat up. "Then now listen," she answered. Rhenyra is married. She has a duty toward her husband and her people." Aegon seemed bored, but she kept talking. She was used to his behavior. "An unclear parentage brings an unstable claim to the throne." She explained, "Do you remember what I told you about my father? He would have liked to insinuate that I was a bastard for my dark hair so that he could accuse my mother of such a vile act." Those words tasted bitter on her tongue. She still remembered clearly what her mother had told her so long ago.

"But your pretty hair is streaked with silver, and your eyes are purple like ours." He answered, resting his weight on his elbows, his eyes looking at her. "So no harm done."

Ysilla lowered her eyes sadly, "There are always repercussions."

If she had been a bastard, her father would have disowned Lady Rhea, ruining her reputation. But maybe she could still be alive.

"Ser Criston," she greeted as she walked towards the Queen's chambers.

"Princess," he said, bowing his head respectfully. Ysilla felt like blushing. It happened quite a lot with Ser Criston lately. She had started to notice how beautiful the features of his face were, and that thought always made her blush. She felt a little stupid every time he was the one guarding the chamber.

"Princess Ysilla, your Grace," Ser Cole announced as she entered through the door.

"Thank you, Ser Criston," the Queen answered. The man bowed before exiting. "You are early today," Alicent said, gesturing her to come sit next to her.

"How was your morning, your Grace?"

"The King had trouble with his hand this morning," the Queen explained with a heavy breath. The Maester is tending him."

"I hope his Grace will recover soon," Alicent's lips turned into a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"How was your morning with Aegon?" She asked Ysilla, changing the subject. Ysilla took a breath.

"You know your son," Ysilla answered, "He gets distracted easily."

The woman took a breath. "At least he is less distracted by you. Thank you for keeping an eye on him." Ysilla shook her head.

"No thanks needed," she said sincerely. In six years, she had grown fond of all the cousins. But there was something that Ysilla could not quite understand. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," the Queen answered.

Ysilla took a moment. She didn't want to make a wrong impression after those years in which the Queen seemed to favor her. "You once told me that it was important for Aegon to respect his duty since he was next in line," she noticed Alicent's posture become stiff all of a sudden. But she didn't interrupt her. "Rhaenyra has given birth to two healthy sons. Couldn't Aegon get discharged from all these duties?"

The Queen's face darkened. And for a moment, Ysilla thought that maybe she should have kept quiet. But then, the Queen spoke.

"You are quite observant, Ysilla," she said, their eyes met. Very little slips from your sight. So tell me, when you've seen Rhaenyra's sons, what did you notice?"

Ysilla bit her lips, lowering her gaze. "What should I have noticed?" she did not want to answer. It was another dangerous accusation, the one that she was about to make. And from the look the Queen was giving her, Ysilla knew that she could not avoid answering.

"There's no Laenor in those children," she said truthfully, feeling uneasy about such words. Alicent nodded her head as she listened to her.

"There are many whispers in the castle, and they are spreading." the Queen said, standing up, her hands clenched together as she walked towards the window. "No one believes those children are Laenor's."

Ysilla frowned, "Shouldn't the King do something about it? Didn't he notice?"

"He does, and yet he refuses to see." The irritation in the woman's voice was evident. Ysilla, on the other hand, wondered what it would have been like to have a father who'd have protected her at any cost. She felt envy.

"But this puts all of us in great danger." Ysilla frowned, looking at her Queen with worried eyes. What danger?

"Aegon is a challenge to Rhaenyra." The Queen explained.

"A challenge?" She asked, confused.

The Queen nodded her head. Her hand moved to touch the skin of her neck, and as she did every time, anxiety rose in her.

"When Aegon was born, many believed him to be the rightful heir." Ysilla knew that Rhaenyra had been made Heir to the Iron Throne long before Aegon came to the world. If he had been born years before, surely the king would have named him, like tradition wanted. But the King had changed that tradition.

"He surely had done it to prevent my sweet husband from becoming King," Ysilla still remembered her mother laughing. She kept saying that, and it made her laugh every time, even after years.

"The King didn't change his mind, though," Ysilla said, quite sure she was not mistaken.

"No," Alicent let out a heavy breath. Perhaps no one would have questioned her rights. But now, giving birth to bastards..." The irritation in her voice was evident. Ysilla knew how righteous the Queen was. Duty was the most important matter. It came before anything for her.

"What might happen?" Ysilla didn't like where their conversation was going.

"If her right to the throne were ever challenged, my children would be the first obstacles to overcome."

Ysilla understood now. And a shiver went down her spine. If someone had ever questioned Rhaenyra's claim, since her children were considerate bastards, people would have turned to Aegon. Viserys' firstborn son shared the same name as the Conquerer. So, the only thing that stood between Rhaenyra and the Throne was Aegon. And with him, Aemond, Daeron, and Helaena. They were Targaryens, sons and daughter of the King that now set the Iron Throne. They would have to die.

This thought made her shiver with fear and rage. She had already lost her mother to schemes to gain power. She did not want to lose the people that had now become her family.

But Rhaenyra was family as well.

"This is not meant to happen, though," Ysilla tried to look at the situation from a better perspective.

Alicent looked at her with pained eyes, "I wish not, child. But if it is the worst to come, we all better be ready. That's why Aegon has to learn."

_____________________________________________________________

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#house of the dragon #house of the dragon Fanfiction #house of the dragon imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen fanfiction #aegon targaryen x OC #aegon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #viserys targaryen

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toji-girl · 2 months

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nsfw headcanons | t. fushiguro

I used this template provided by @/noahsresources but I did remove a few letters and questions that didn't pertain to him! please note that this is how I personally see him and this is so self-ship-based it's not even funny dfktrjnre but done in fem! reader style so you both are in a healthy committed relationship! 18+ only content - mdni

♡ afterwards — what kind(s) of aftercare do they like being given? do they like giving their partner aftercare? do they fall asleep quickly after sex?

he enjoys cuddling and being close to you, smelling him on you is a huge bonus as he nuzzles his face into your neck letting you wrap yourself around him, but if it's an intense session then he's bringing out the balms and making sure to clean you up before helping you into the bath with bubbles and a massage afterward and he won't say it but he loves it when you rub his back!

♡ beg — do they like making their partner(s) beg? do they like begging their partner?

YES YES YES he loves hearing you beg to finally fuck you after teasing you with his fingers or tongue, sometimes all he has to do is whisper in your ear and get you all riled up, he loves seeing your eyes glaze over for him, he will only beg when he's super pent up and when you're going down on him and he just begs you not to stop.

♡ body — what is their favorite body part of theirs? of their partner(s)'? are there any specific body parts they like to pay special attention to (ex. feet, hands, ass, etc)? where are their erogenous zones? where are they most sensitive?

his favorite part has to be his pecs and hands, again he won't admit and even though he huffs when you grab his tits he loves it because it makes you happy and giggle. now on you? it's hard for him to pick, but it has to be your eyes because you look at him with nothing but pure love and adoration. the side of his neck and inner thighs are the best places to kiss him if you want him to act up like a slut.

♡ clothing — do they like to have sex fully or partially clothed, or do they prefer having sex naked? would they ever move an article of clothing aside for stimulation/penetration (ex. pulling panties to the side for penetrative sex)?

it's a toss-up. it's hot to have sex fully clothed or half-naked, the rush of needing each other so badly makes his blood boil but when you are both at home he enjoys feeling the warmth of you against him but he does like pulling your panties to the side sometimes.

♡ cum — how long does it take to make them cum? do they have any kinks relating to cum? do they like cumming inside their partner(s)? do they like cumming on any of their partner(s)' body parts?

it all depends but it ranges from anywhere from ten minutes to forty-five because he likes to edge the both of you a lot to make it feel so much better. we all agree he has a breeding kink? so he loves to make your pussy gape to see all his cum oozing out only to push it back in but he does love a good facial, you look so pretty covered like that.

♡ delay — do they like having their orgasm delayed/denied? do they like delaying/denying their partner(s)' orgasm?

YES YES YES YES - but it's not every single time, but he enjoys seeing you cock drunk and when you squirt for him it's a real treat.

♡ dirty talk — are they turned on by dirty talk? turned off by dirty talk?

this man has a filthy mouth in the best way possible, he loves to hear you stumble over your words when he says something so vile and vulgar you have to catch your breath, and when you do it? he loves seeing how nasty you can get with your words.

♡ drive — how high is their sex drive? are they hyposexual, hypersexual, or somewhere in between? does it change depending on the circumstance? how often do they have sex?

I feel like it's in between but mostly hypersexual because he loves you and loves loving on you like that, especially on your ovulation week he enjoys the way you always drag him to places for a quickie.

♡ eyes — do they like to be watched while they're having sex? do they like to watch others having sex?

I feel like he'd like for people to watch y'all, I mean he's sexy as sin and he knows how to fuck and wants to show everyone that he's the only one that can make you feel so good.

♡ fantasy — do they have any sexual fantasies they'd like to try out? have they ever gotten to act on a sexual fantasy?

ROLE PLAY AND ALL SORTS OF 'EM TOO!!! also wants to have a threesome with you and Shiu..

♡ hair — do they shave or wax? do they let their hair grow out?

personally, I love body hair, but I feel like he has pubic hair but nothing like a full-on bush or anything to where you'd need to floss after sucking his dick but he keeps it trimmed!

♡ humiliation — do they like being humiliated or degraded? is there anything specific they like being humiliated or degraded for? do they like humiliating or degrading their partner(s)?

due to his upbringing, I don't foresee him wanting that done to him but if you want that and enjoy it thoroughly he won't mind doing it to you! he's willing to try something at least once, but it depends.

♡ location — where do they like to have sex the most? would they ever have sex in a 'risky' place (ex. in the office, closet, public bathroom, etc)?

anywhere and everywhere, but would make sure that no one would catch you if they or you have not consented but knowing the thrill of someone being close is a huge turn-on for the both of you.

♡ lube — do they use lube during sex? how much of it? do they like flavored lube and/or lube that brings particular sensations?

he prefers to eat you out and finger you with copious amounts of spit acting as a crude lube but sometimes he likes adding more than needed to hear that wet suctioning sound when he buries himself to the hilt and if you do anal he uses a ton!!

♡ marks — do they like being marked? do they like marking their partners?

he really likes to see his teeth indentions in your flesh.

♡ music — do they like to play music while having sex?

sometimes if it's maybe planned out or something? like an anniversary or date night, a few times you both did it in the car he played some slow baby-making music!

♡ names — do they like being called names in the bedroom? if so, what kind of names? are they pet names or are they names to appeal to a praise/humiliation kink? do they like calling their partner(s) names in the bedroom? do they have a daddy/mommy kink?

I feel like he loves to call you all sorts of pet names and soft degradation with praise like 'pretty slut' or 'my sweet fleshlight' or something like that, wouldn't mind you calling him daddy at all lmaooo and would call you mommy if you wanted!

♡ positions — what are their favorite sex positions? do they have a singular favorite sex position?

cowgirl and (I forgot the name) but it's like missionary but your legs are hanging over the crooks of his arms, he likes to be able to see your face when you cum and he can talk you through it but he also loves doggy to see your ass jiggling back against him.

♡ restraint — do they like being restrained? do they like restraining their partner(s)? are they into softer bondage or more hardcore BDSM?

this again is me being so biased LMAO but uh I feel like he would be into hardcore BDSM but nothing like fake doms would want you to do, he would always have your preferences in mind first and he'd let you tie him up, but only if you ask him nicely.

♡ sexting — do they like sexting their partner(s)? do they ever send nudes? do they like receiving nudes?

YES YES YES to all three of those, he loves sending dick pictures when you ask, and they're always so sensual too and never like those guys who hold it like a naked mole rat don't worry.

♡ size — how big are their genitals?

he is packing, ok? I want to say eight inches and thick oh my it's so thick you can't even wrap your fingers around it.

♡ sounds — what sounds do they make during sex?

deep grunts in your ears and lust-tinged moans.

♡ strip — does your muse like stripping for their partner(s)? do they like when their partner(s) strip(s) for them? do they like their partner(s) stripping them naked? do they like to strip their partner(s) naked?

he likes it when you both strip each other either fast or slow, but he does love a good lap dance and to see your hips moving like that never fails to make him drool.

♡ style — do they like it rough? do they like it soft? do they prefer fucking or making love? do they like a hard and fast pace, a slow and gentle pace, or does it vary/depend on the situation?

it really does depend! is it makeup sex? then it's hard and fast, or if you both are needy then it's gentle lovemaking that will have you crying.

♡ tease — do they like teasing their partner(s)?

he is such a shit when it comes to this so yes he loves to tease and rile you up.

♡ toys — do they own sex toys? how often do they use them? do they prefer using them on themselves or their partner(s)?

he likes to use them on you mostly, but if you want to use a fleshlight on him for whatever reason then he'll entertain you but he'd much rather fuck you.

♡ wet — do they like bath/shower sex? would they have sex in other bodies of water (pool, lake, ocean, etc)?

now anyone who knows that water does make a good lube knows that shower sex can be hard and difficult plus maybe a bit cramped but that's what Toji loves about it, having you so close to him! he likes bath sex - like for your first anniversary the hotel had a heart-shaped tub!

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cupcraft · 2 months

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This you can rb.

One thing I also wanted to say is I don't think some people in this fandom really understand how harmful it is to platform abusers/to defend them/to make claims how victims should act. It's been unsafe in mcytblr since the dream allegations. 100%. I remember the names of every person that said awful awful vile shit and to my knowledge they still do (though I've stopped checking by a long shot now. It wasn't healthy for me to see if people would change their mind or apologize).

There are many people in mcytblr, in any space really, that are victims. Victims read that shit you say, victims internalize that shit you say, victims remember the shit you say. Victims will not come forward because of the things you say. Victims lose trust and support networks because of the things you say. Your internet behavior has consequences and very real and very dangerous harm. I don't care if your fav "turned out to be innocent" (and in a lot of cases, that's not true actually but that isn't the point of my post). The things you said that were victim blaming still hurt people. It still hurts people now.

And so with the Shubble stuff, when I see like long twitter threads proving Wilbur's innocence. When I see replies on Stellae's posts about Illumina/stu picking apart her story. When I see the way people judge victims on how they behave and call them irrational/reckless/irresponsible/lying because X behavior. When I see people forcing victims to divulge their abuse and still harm them because they didn't bring up critique of abusers in the "right way" (thinking about Niki). When people ask victims to bare the responsibility for abusers instead of others around them (and instead of the actual accused abuser) (thinking of how people treated tubbo during the drm allegations when he is a grooming victim himself). When I see people be ablelist as a means of defending abusers, not realizing there are many of us victims who are disabled too, and there are many disabled people who are harmed by abelism like that. When I see this stuff I feel unsafe. When I see this stuff I know exactly what kind of person you are, to put your comfortability above all else. To put your fav above victims. To treat victims as drama/things you can doxx and pull apart and for entertainment. It's sick.

Mcyt as a fandom needs to do better. It always has but especially now. This is a plea to do better. To learn how to be compassionate. To think about more than yourself.

#cup.mcytblr #tw abuse #tw grooming #ask to tag #can rb and encouraged to

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timetobeaghost · 6 months

Text

The Noah hate mob is so much worse than I thought. Finally saw the story pic going through someone's blog. Cluelessly I had kinda figured a "sticker" is something you can add to your pic, like a filter. And I thought he might have made a dumb sexy pose maybe with a hot dude and put "zionism is sexy" on it. I thought he might have been somewhat douchy and insensitive, because that seemed IC to me, making a dumb post in a serious situation.

But no. He is making a selfie with a friend who seems to be involved in anti-antisemitism activism and wears a (literal, yeah everyone but me knows what a sticker is, I guess) "Hamas is ISIS" sticker, which is a very important message (because people did not use to like islamists cutting off people's heads and raping girls back when it wasn't happening in Israel, maybe they could remember that feeling) and holding Stickers in her hand that apparently read "Zionism is sexy", which is meant to proudly support Israel and Israeli jews, which is healthy and understandable considering it is a reaction to a horrible terror attack on Israel and to a reminder that its very existence in in danger. No, Zionism does NOT mean war! Zionism does NOT mean ethnic cleansing. To say this is antisemitic trash. Jews wanting the tiniest bit of land to live in peace and thrive is the farthest thing from evil. Do you know how many Jews used to live in the Middle East. Do you know where their offspring is now? ISRAEL. And nowhere else because they were ethnically cleansed out of everywhere else.

And no Israel is not perfect, radical settlers and a right wing government supporting them and all that. That needs to be solved. That in no way means Israel's existence and with that Zionism is evil.

Now still those ZiS stickers could be criticized as dumb, I guess. As flippant in a serious matter, but any hate boner can only be explained by antisemitism, and Noah really didn't do shit to deserve anything. And then he was told he should be put in a blender by Hamas. Hamas being a terror organization who really does specialize in slaughtering jews in creative ways. For context.

The only proper reaction is 💯 support for Noah!

If you are part of a hate mob you are those people, oh they had good reasons for their spontaneous anger, I am told. Spoiler alert: history has already decided you suck. And I can guarantee you the Duffer brothers deepest revulsion. No one dreams of appeasing you people! Leave ST fandom and enjoy your jihadism fandom, if that's where your priorities lie.

If you are on the side of: "Yes I know he kinda deserves criticism, but lets not overdo it. Bullying is not nice either", congratulations for being human, but you are the majority Germans in the mid 1930s and you can do better.

Because someone asked me what I say to a 6-year -old Palestinian being murdered in the US, I say this is utterly VILE. It was a crazy, violent murderer's reaction to the terror attack and it is endlessly tragic that this happened. It was not a reaction to solidarity with Israel's people. The pos was reacting to the actual event. Peaceful, loving support for the victims is the antitheses to that. I wanna ask back what you think of hundreds of children being brutally murdered or kidnapped in Israel on October 7th. Can we agree that this shit is utterly vile as well? Can we agree THOSE HOSTAGES NEED TO BE BROUGHT HOME? Btw?

#noah schnapp #byler #antisemitism #guess I wasn't done #i stand with israel #hamas is isis #support noah schnapp

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onskepa · 3 months

Note

Hey I wanted to send a request in for a type 1 diabetic reader with Neteyam and sullys I never see diabetes anyway, so I think it's be interesting for them to see her just inject something into her arm anytime she's eats something and at first their kinda like 😨 "what was that?" Before she has to explain. If you don't want to do thats okay ❤️ and have a good day !!

Hellooooooooooo darling! So I will say this up front. This request hits a bit personal for me, since my mother is type 1 diabetic too. So hopefully you enjoy this one along with everyone else!

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

Tsan'ul

“I think we should have our lunch break now, doing chores all day really worked up and appetite” lo’ak says while wiping off the sweat from his forehead. Him and his siblings along with spider and tsan’ul all sat down together under a shade from the trees.

“Finally” tuk sighs tiredly. Kiri and neteyam happily unwrapped the packaged meal their mother prepared in the morning. Handing everyone their portions. It was one of their favorites. Wrapped in steamed leaves, there was meat mixed with roasted fungi sprinkled with puffleaves for that yummy salted taste. Fortunately its the type of food spider and tsan’lu can eat without feeling sick.

Everyone ate their fill, they all relaxed and gathered their energy before continuing on. Spider however nudged at tsan’lu, “hey dont forget your insulin” he reminded her. Tsan’lu makes a popping sound and grabs her pouch. Everyone looks at what she is doing and takes out a long yet thin vile.

“What is that…?” tuk asks in a bit of a whisper. Everyone silently observes tsan’ul as she takes out the blue cap of a needle. Lifting her sleeve up to the shoulder, a white patch is revealed. Removing the cover, tsan’ul injects the needle to where the white patch was. It only lasted a few seconds when she removed the needle to cover the spot of the injection. Rolling down her arm, she sighs in relief.

“What?” she asks.

The sully kids were staring at her wide eyes.

“Die-ah-beetees…?”

“Diabetes”

Tsan’ul was giving a little lesson to the sully kids as they all gathered to know what they just saw.

“Sooooo….there are two types?” Kiri asks, tsan’ul nods.

“And you have type 1?” lo’ak asks soon after. Again, tsan’ul nods.

“So this whole…diabetes sickness. How does it affect you? Were you born with it? '' Neteyam asks, still feeling a bit confused. “And how come just now are we seeing this?” kiri adds. Tsan’ul felt a bit shy as they pointed it out. But if they are curious, why not share?

“Well for me, I wasn't exactly born with it. But it does affect me in a slow manner. Right now I can be as healthy as I can be, but when I grow older things will change” tsan’ul explained. “How so?” tuk asks. “

Smiling a bit sad she replies, “because I have diabetes, my health may decline later on. My vision won't be the same, some organ failure or worse, my heart can weaken or other health problems. Since my body no longer produces enough insulin. And insulin is very important for our human bodies. It helps control blood sugar. So, for example, since we just ate our lunch, I have to take this pen”. Tsan’ul takes out an unopened insulin pen to show to the kids.

“Of course there are other ways to take this. But insulin pen injection is better for me, I can easily carry and already has the right dose for me to take” the human girl goes on.

Lo’ak was close to touching it but tsan’ul pulls the pen away before he could. “Nuh uh, no touchie. This is only for me” tsan’ul gently warns as she puts away the other pen back in her bag.

“You said you weren't born with it. So how did you get it?” Kiri asks another question.

“That kiri, is a story for another time. Come on, we wasted enough time already, gotta finish our chores before the eclipse” tsan’ul tells. Everyone agreed their break was already long enough. Packing their things they head their way back to where they were.

However, as everyone was quick to change the subject of the topic, neteyam wasn't fooled. When kiri asked her question, neteyam didn't miss the strange look in tsan’ul’s eyes. Clearly kiri touched something she didn't know and tsan’ul was not so keen on answering it.

After everyone had their fill at the communal dinner, neteyam was chatting with his siblings when he noticed tsan’ul leaving with her bag. Spider is still here, perhaps to take her insulin medicine again. Deciding not to leave the girl alone, neteyam gets up and silently follows her to keep her company.

So neteyam follows her to a little area both were familiar with. Not too far from the village. Tsan’ul sits comfortably on the ground, taking out her insulin pen. “Mind if I keep you company?” Neteyam says out of nowhere, it made tsan’ul jump startled. “Phew, neteyam you nearly scared me to death!” she says with a huff but a friendly smile. Neteyam returns that smile with his own as he sits next to her.

“Are you going to take your…medicine again?” neteyam asks. Tsan’ul nods and starts to prep her pen. Removing the cap, it reveals a needle. Looks slightly different from the other needles neteyam has seen before. Tsan’ul removes the white patch from her arm and gives her skin a bit of a pinch and inserts the needle to the area.

Neteyam stays silent, letting her concentrate on what the human girl has to do. And like before, after a few seconds, she removes the needle and covers the spot with the white patch. “There, all done” tsan’ul concludes. Putting away the empty covered pen back in the bag, she leans down to lay on her back, staring up at the starry night sky. “Thanks for keeping me company neteyam, you didn't have to” she thanks. .

Neteyam gives her a little grin, laying down beside her, “didn't want you to be alone” he says.

And they stayed in a comfortable silence together, enjoying the beautiful view. However, neteyam had to ask, he knew he would be touching a sensitive topic. “When kiri asked you…how you got the disease…you didn't answer her '' he says slowly. His large hand slowly reached her smaller hand.

“We were wasting time and had a lot of stuff to get done, so of course I couldn't tell her” Tsan’ul answers a bit too quickly. “Couldn't? Or wouldnt” neteyam says, almost challenging her. There was a long pause between them. “We have nothing else to do right now. Maybe you can tell me? I promise I won't tell kiri or anyone else for that matter” he swears.

Tsan’ul released a long deep exhale. And a slow blink.

“My mom”

Neteyam’s ears perked a bit to hear her correctly.

“Your mother?” he repeats.

Tsan’ul nods.

“My mom is also diabetic. For the majority of her life. She believes it's her fault that I got the sickness. A curse she would say. Always feeling guilty that I won't be as healthy or as strong as a normal human. I do my best to tell her it's not her fault, nobody, not her, not me would have guessed I would get it. Yet she can't help but feel guilty for a crime she never commited…”

Neteyam listened very carefully. Tsan’ul’s voice carried sadness and a sort of guilt of her own.

“Does it run in your family?” he asks.

Tsan’ul shrugs, “I am not sure. But, I wouldn't be surprised. From what norm told me, being a healthy human is a luxury and a privilege back on earth. So I would assume it is normal…”

“Hey, its not her fault. It is also not your fault either. How you got it doesnt matter, what matters now is that you are here and alive and thriving. So what if this diabetes has you, you can overcome it. You are strong tsan’ul. And I know you won't let this set you back. I have seen how you can be. So the only thing you can do is continue to be who you are and get better every day, "Neteyam encourages. Tsan’ul smiles, intertwining her hand with his.

“Thanks neteyam, I needed to hear that ''

I may have used some real life stuff for it. Also I had to ask my mom so many questions for this. She did wonder why the need to know, I had to make an excuse. But I am happy how it turned out. So I hope you all enjoyed this one! Until next time! see ya!

---------

Tsan'ul = Improve, get better

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sukunastoy · 15 days

Text

Just something else I’ve been messing around with. 🫶✨ It’s just rough points to the beginning of a story. It will be a while before I can actually work on it.

The title will be “Judas” and its Nun reader and Demon Sukuna 😮‍💨 it will be very very naughty in its completion. Enjoy the little taste! 18+, MDNI.

-while you're out taking a walk through the convent lands, an injured snake is upon your path. The girls who are with you shriek and recoil but you hastily go to the poor creature

-you're scolded for touching a creature so vile as it is satans vessel but you hush them, wanting to help one of gods creatures.

-alone in your room later in the evening, you're tending to the snake. It's surprisingly gentle as you clean its slithery body in your small sink. You wrap a gentle cloth around the wound it has and gather it into a blanket so it can burrow and feel safe while hiding.

-after your evening prayer, you remove your main habits and slip into your nightly attire before moving into bed. As you sleep, you're completely unaware of the man watching you from across the room. He is shirtless and has his arms crossed while studying your form.

-you were gentle to his vessel, and piqued his interest. As he now stands over your bed, your body is only partially covered with the blanket. He can see your hardened nipples pushing up on the fabric of your top. He gently pulls the cloth up and eyes your breasts more, wanting to partake of their soft and supple beauty.

-he leans down and slowly licks across one of your nipples, letting the end of his tongue toy with the hardened bud for a moment. Before long he places his lips around it, sucking gently while letting his other hand toy with your other breast.

-your lips parted and a whimpering moan escaped as the man watched your still sleeping face while he continued to suck on your nipple and rub the other one under his clawed fingers.

-he watched as your hand came to your own breast, squeezing slightly as your body stirred in growing arousal. Your scent filled his nose and he smirked before running a hand under your blankets to between your legs. It didn't take long for him to find the dampness growing in your panties and he retracted his hand, bringing his fingers to his face to fully inhale your aroma.

-before he could do anything g further, your eyes fluttered open and you felt out of breath and flushed. Seeing your exposed self, you panicked and quickly sat up, trying to regain your decency. The man leaned back and rested his hands in his pockets while still watching.

-as you slipped out of bed, you felt your legs shake a little as a shudder of arousal crept through your being. You felt your own sin between your legs before immediately dropping to your knees in prayer of forgiveness.

-you were observed by the man you couldn't see, and a grin spread across his lips. He knew he wanted to defile something as pure as yourself. And this habit would soon begin.

-though you had let the snake go a couple days later, you kept seeing it on your evening walks. It would be sun bathing atop a stone to get the final heat of the day, and whenever you passed it, it would watch as you went by. You imagined it remembered you and your kindness, and it brought you joy, hoping it was healthy and happy.

-however each night, you were unaware of the man in your room, slowly furthering his exploration of your sleeping body. He's kissed and sucked your nipples, making them fiercely hard in the cool air. He's ran the pads of his fingers over your underwear, gently persuading your pussy to soak the cloth with arousal. Every little touch to your pure body made you uncontrollably writhe and sigh out in pleasure, only fueling this man's desire.

-each morning you awoke to find yourself in a bit of disarray, and each morning you collapsed to your knees in a prayer of mercy, begging forgiveness that your body was betraying you in the night.

-you didn't want to tell your abbess or a priest yet, hoping your prayer would take care of this situation swiftly. How embarrassing would it be to admit you had unholy desires as you slept?

-one night, you decided to tie a bit of string at both sides of your bed, and you hooked your wrists into them so they would be slightly restrained as you slept. Hopefully your hands would quickly give up on their damnable explorations of your body in the night. Your hands were committing such sin, and they needed to be held back.

-unfortunately, your secret watcher only grew more interested in your feeble attempt to keep your body pure in the night. Perhaps he would demonstrate why this plan was not going to work.

-he pulled the blankets down your body slowly, eyes watching your nipples harden under your thin shirt, as if they’re expecting what’s to come. Your hands twitched in their restraints, but otherwise you stayed still.

His weight came onto the bed, making you momentarily sigh out from being disturbed. Sleep was trying to leave you, and your head was a fog of drowsiness and confusion when you felt warmth between your legs. You lifted your head and groggily looked down your body, realizing your blanket was removed. You saw nothing else but suddenly let out a yelp when something warm and wet pushed against your underwear.

-your head snapped to attention, yet you saw nothing. Nothing was there. However, the wet and warm sensation pressed through your underwear again, as if someone were licking the cloth. Before you could pull your hands out of the restraints, the pressure gathered to your clit, and you sucked in a breath while nipping your bottom lip. What was happening?? Were you dreaming?

-your hands unintentionally held onto the restraints, unable to move them between your legs to stop whatever was happening. Almost like you didn't want it to stop...

It didn't last long, and once the pressure disappeared, you whimpered and panted, closing your eyes tightly in an attempt to control your thoughts and feelings. Whatever it was that touched you, was no where to be seen.

-the next day, you were shaken up and fumbling through your tasks and prayers. The memory of the feeling was fading throughout the day, and though you pretended to be glad for it, a part of you desperately clung to that sensation.

-as you went to bed again, you stared up to the ceiling that was barely illuminated by your bedside candle. Would it happen again? "Keep my body free of sin, for I am a bride of Christ." You announced to no one, completely unaware of your admirer already at the end of your bed. Waiting was no problem for him, and once you finally slipped into a deep rest, he began his nightly routine.

-by the end of the week, you were so embarrassed to be around the other nuns and even being in church service where you faced the judgment of god. You shamefully walked the grounds with your body that betrayed you, wondering when, or if, you should tell anyone. Clearly, you were fornicating with your own self through the night. A disgusting sin that you desperately begged repentance for.

-you're cleansing yourself one evening in the bathrooms, pouring water atop your body and praying for strength to overcome whatever burden you're going through. But you hear a chuckle in the dark corners of the bath, and you look but see no one. You call out for an answer, but, you were frightened upon hearing the low drawl of a man's voice.

"You may wash all you want, but you'll never get clean enough. Especially when I'm done with you."

#sukuna jjk #jjk #ryomen sukuna #demon Sukuna #nun reader

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hearts4jean · 5 months

Text

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

jean - braiding - modern au -

It is so clear that Jean is a gentleman in case I haven’t made it clear already like a relationship with him would be the most magical epitome ever, you being his first significant other. Sure he’d be a nervous wreck, but it’s so lovely dating him. He’d love doing all that cutesy stuff with you, people around you describe you two as the ‘ideal couple’.

He loves playing with your hair so much whether it’s where you letting him run his fingers through it as you two share a moment while in each others embrace (He’d so play with your hair as you kiss him); even when you rest your head in his lap in case you’re feeling fatigued and gently ruffles your hair (He strokes your hair if you’re asleep to not disturb you too much)

His favourite thing especially is braiding your hair he just finds it so relaxing for the both of you. It’s a skill he’s always had. He utilises it with all the women in his life like his mother, younger sister if he had one, even Sasha at one point. The amount of times he would’ve gotten told off at school for playing with Sasha’s hair as kids by teachers.

Jean always fantasised about braiding your hair too but he didn’t know how to bring it up to you, it seems too sudden and he didn’t really see you have your hair in that style very much. However, he was able to build up the courage to do so as you were getting ready to go out somewhere with him. The only reason he showed up while you were still getting ready was because he accidentally showed up way earlier than planned but this minor mistake all worked out in his favour and yours too in a way.

Jean, sitting on your bed, watches you grumble in the mirror while having your face buried in your palms. He walks up to you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Everything alright, []?”

You turn to him with a glum expression; your phone open on Pinterest, the search bar reading “hair inspo” and the images consisting of the most vile ‘wedding hair styles’ from 2014 with a mix of the most complex styles done with unattainably healthy hair. Even Jean, a man who has limited knowledge about how girls work understands how hideous some of those styles are, snickering at some of them as you mindlessly scroll through them.

“How do you feel about braids?”

“Braids? They’re cute, not really my go-to style but-“

“Let me- Sorry, did I cut you off?”

“No no, you’re fine. What were you going to say?”

“Oh, I was going to say you should let me do your hair.”

-“What?”

“Uhh..”

“Sorry, I sounded off-putting right there. I didn’t mean to. What do you mean by me letting you do my hair?”

“I wanna braid your hair. I MEAN! (That sounds too demanding….) Would you like me to braid your hair? It’s fine if you don’t wanna..it’s..ah cool…”

“You know how to braid hair?”

“Yes!”

- You laugh. “Go for it I suppose, you seem very eager to.”

“Merde! Did I really sound like that..?”

“…”

- “Your silence is doing better harm than good”

“Do you want to braid my hair or not?”

“Yes”

“Hah! There you go sounding eager again!” You burst out laughing, pointing your finger at Jean’s face turning into a light pink.

“[]!!!!”

Eventually you do stop messing around with him and he gets to work. Jean tries to be gentle as possible with you all the time no matter the circumstance. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” And i’d be the slightest tug that was a less careful that he intended it to be. He finds braiding hair to be relaxing for him as it sort of allows him to turn all his attention on 3 pieces of hair and how they are supposed to be crossed over repeatedly until he reaches the ends.

The feeling is mutual between the two of you; you found it to be really calming moment between the two of you, creating a new way for you two to bond together. After this, you find yourself getting your hair braided by Jean a lot more often.

Once he starts to get more skilled, he even starts to spazz up the way he braids your hair to. Like braiding in ribbons or adding smaller braids between sections. Your hair is one of his favourite things about you. Jean appears to be this stupidly cocky guy who enjoys messing around with Connie by tormenting Eren or Reiner and doing dumb teenage boy stuff; well thats what he paints himself to be. Who knew the same person also enjoys braiding hair?

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heartfullofleeches · 11 months

Text

Squish

Yan Slime God hcs/blurb

One botched resurrection and a couple - hundred liters of human blood lead to the creation of the slime I introduce to you today. Squish is a rather aloof; mischievous entity. It loves tricks, and driving people mad all the same While retaining the collective thoughts of those its consumed - Squish has yet to grasp the reality humans may not like having their blood drained out of all their orifices to further its growth or find blood in their pipes amusing. Squish considers these folks a drag - but the screams of the last human who found blood raining from the pipes in their shower were oddly... cute. Wonder who that could be?

• Squish can - and will be any one or thing for you. If you like cats, the slime will sport ears and a tail - and catch dead birds for you. A key thing to note about them is that they have a human skull floating around in their gel to stabilize a human form. Squish also can "possess" others through their bloodstream or entering their body after death. The downside with the latter is the corpse still rots and at a faster rate than normal. If there is someone you hold dear enough, Squish will execute and wear their skin until their blood completely rots before swapping its previous skull with theirs. It sees no difference between the feelings you harbored for them now that they're apart of it - so you should love them just the same.

• In the presence of others - Squish must be blinded at all times. The entity it originates from was a vile, bloodthirsty tyrant and Squish still carries that same lust which can be nullified if it cannot see. Squish does not make its presence known until it is worked into every nerve it possesses that it will not harm you - don't stop them from biting the soul out of your thighs when you don't give it the attention it craves. To combat its violent tendencies in regards to you, it taped a photo of you to its eyes and willed their restraint into existence.

"Dummy - do not turn this human into soup. Do not drain them of every drop of their precious blood even though it'd probably be really, really good. You are stronger than your urges, you are supreme, you... really want to bite them while they're sleeping."

• While being their darling - you are not immune to their tricks. If anything - they're amplified when it comes to you. We're talking blood leaking from the ceilings, swallowing your keys when you try to leave without their permission, leaving their skull in plain sight so when you notice the odd decor it can lick and/or bite you when you pick it up to inspect. Squish loves getting a rise out of people and your reactions are ones to treasure.

• An excellent hunter - cook not so much. Considering how easy it is to grind humans into paste, Squish realizes they need to care for you and one of the best ways to them is providing you with meat as it may benefit them as well. Squish will hunt deers in the woods and drag the bodies back, wearing the skull of its catch - or break into local markets and rob the delis. It both drains the meat of its blood and infuses it with their own as it figures the nutrients from it will keep you healthy- only downside is they try to get you to eat it raw for a while until you drill it into their bed that humans can't eat uncooked meat. They pout about it - but eventually let you use their catches in proper meals

• Makes articles for you to wear out of its blood - or just slaps a bloody hand print on your shirt and says consider it a new fashion statement. If you want to leave without them - you'll have to do it on their terms and this way they can still track you. A bracelet/necklace or earrings are its preferred choices. The problem with this is your bracelet growing spikes if you shaking someone's hand or your necklace nearly choking you out as it tries to tug you away from crowds

• A cuddler/very touchy. Loves the feel of your skin. Very soft, very bitable. I would assume most wouldn't be too sound with the idea of a blanket made of blood slime - but you'll have to get used to it with them. They'll settle on a cute teddy bear with an unsettling skull for a face if that makes you feel any better.

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere teratophilia #yandere god #Squish my oc

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lilacsnid · 1 year

Text

Don’t You Think It’s Time? — 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙣 𝙎𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙗𝙮 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 (𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙊𝙉𝙀)

Part 2 ✘

warnings: mentions of violence, swearing & blood.

There was always something about Finn Shelby that made Y/N feel more alive than ever before.

The mere sight of him would make her heart swoon. The thought of him would make its way into her mind at almost every moment of the day, filled with his kind words and his gentle gaze.

She has had a yearning for him from the very first moment they had set eyes on each other.

Y/N L/N, the young 22 year old was fresh into her Nursing & Midwifery career. Riding around the streets of Small Heath on a bicycle, turning heads wherever she went. To begin with, she was utterly terrified. But she soon became more comfortable with every moment that passed and the streets of Small Heath soon became familiar to her.

She would never forget the night her path crossed with Finn Shelby’s. A wild turn of events that would soon lead to a beautiful friendship, and perhaps something more.

It was quite late into the evening, Y/N had just helped a mother to deliver another beautiful and healthy baby. The father had gifted her a small bottle of whiskey, followed by a chorus of kind and gracious words for her helping to bring his daughter safely into the world.

Even though she didn’t drink, she took the bottle, concealing it in her nursing bag that was strapped on the back of her bicycle.

She hopped on her bicycle, preparing herself for the long cycle home. The night was that cold that she could see her breath. She bid the family one final farewell before setting off into the night. She listened carefully to the sounds around her as she rode through Small Health. She could hear the sounds of rowdy men in the pubs, the occasional sounds of chatter and cars. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

Much to her despise, it had started to rain not long after she had left. She began to pedal a little faster, wanting to get back to the Nurse’s home as soon as she could. She still had around 20 minutes left of her journey.

She became extra vigilant, as her vision became impaired due to how hard it was starting to rain. She rode past The Garrison, another pub filled with music and rowdy men. She came across a darker part of the street that wasn’t lit up quite as well as near the pub. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something. Or rather, someone. They seemed to be hunched over from what she could make out.

Out of pure instinct, she came to a complete stop. She hopped off her bicycle, mounting it against the brick wall. Remaining cautious, she decided to approach the person.

“Excuse me,” she announced herself, hoping whoever it was could hear her over the rain hitting the pavement, “Is everything alright?”

As she came closer to them, the person started to stand up. She was now able to make out that it was a man, who turned to her with a smile that she could only describe as evil.

The man snickered, dropping the bottle of alcohol she had failed to see him holding in his hand. She flinched at the sound of the glass hitting the pavement quite loudly, smashing into a thousand pieces.

“I reckon there is something you can help with, sweetheart.” The man spoke in a low voice, before grabbing her and slamming her against the wall before she even had time to run away.

“No!” she screamed, trying to fight her way out of his strong grip, “Stop! Leave me alone!”

She could smell the vile, strong scent of alcohol on his breath, turning her head away as his face kept coming closer to hers.

The man chuckled, tightening his grip around her wrists, “I’m going to have some fun with you, stop fucking moving you whore.”

Her knees felt weak, like she could topple to the ground in fear any second. She fought harder and more desperately as hercoat buttons were ripped from being pulled open so forcefully. Her tears were hot against her cheeks as the rain that kept hitting her skin.

She screamed. Wishing that someone, anyone at all, could hear her cries. The man kept clawing at the buttons of her uniform, trying to get them undone.

She had started preparing herself for the hell she thought she was going to face; but she soon heard someone yell out from behind them.

“Hey! Get the fuck off her!” she managed to glance up to see the man being pulled away from her. She had never been more grateful for being able to breathe properly now her attacker was no longer crushing her with his weight.

She was quick to wrap her ripped coat back around herself as best she could, watching with tired eyes as the scene unfolded before her. Whoever had saved her life was now above her attacker, throwing punches over and over again that she had lost count.

Her attacker was then slammed against the brick wall on the opposite side of the road to her, his face bleeding and broken. The other man, who she still couldn’t make out, took his hat off before turning it inside out. Even though it was dark, she couldn’t mistake the shine of razor blades hidden on the inside of his hat.

Whoever he was, he was a Peaky Blinder.

She knew who the Peaky Blinders were, and in any other case would be petrified. But in this moment, she felt somewhat safe. She knew she should probably make a run for it, but she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from him.

The man slashed her attackers face, and she cringed after hearing him yell out in pain.

“If I ever see you again,” he then points in her general direction, making her breath hitch, “And if I ever see you near her again, I will cut your eyes out of your fucking skull and I’ll watch you bleed. Do you understand?!”

He then proceeds to throw him to the ground, not waiting to hear for her attacker’s response. The two of them watch him scramble to his feet and flee from the scene.

Y/N was stiff and hadn’t dared to move a muscle from the moment she was saved. There was something about her saviour that drew her in. She watches him turn around to face her, quickly making sure that her attacker ran completely out of his sight. They were still a few feet away from one another, staring at each other, not daring to look away once.

Looking closer, she realized that he was a young man who didn’t look much older than herself. She could see his shoulders moving up and down from how hard he was trying to catch his breath. His hair was now damp, droplets of water running down his face. He held his bloodied cap in his hand with a tight grip, not daring to let go.

There was something about him that made her feel a particular type of way.

“I’m sorry, please, don’t be scared.” The young man broke the silence, beginning to approach her slowly, “Are you alright, did he hurt you?”

As he approached her, she couldn’t seem take her eyes off him. Not only was she grateful, but she was also mentally scolding herself for thinking about how attractive the young Peaky Blinder standing before her was.

Blood covered his white shirt that he was wearing underneath his dark grey suit, but she ignored it.

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

She could see his face drop as he let out a small sigh, “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

For the first time since the encounter, she offered a small smile towards him, “You didn’t. Thank you for helping me.”

“I wasn’t going to let that prick hurt you.”

Despite him being a Peaky Blinder, she could see something in his eyes. It was kindness, she could see it as clear as day. It was this kindness that had saved her from something awful. Something everyone fears.

She glances down at his side, and without thinking, reaches out for his hand. His knuckles were red and bruised, there was blood from the amount of punches he had been throwing.

“You’re bleeding,” She spoke, concerned no longer for herself but for the young man standing in front of her.

Her touch sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes for only a quick second, wanting to etch this memory in his mind of how soft her skin against his was.

It surprised him that this girl, who was only seconds away from pure terror, was no longer concerned for herself. She was concerned for him. He stole a glance at the nursing uniform underneath her coat.

“I can barely feel anything, don’t worry about me,” he shook his head as he spoke, gently placing that same hand on her arm.

After seeing her involuntarily flinch, he instantly felt bad. It was out of instinct, but she couldn't help miss his touch after he had taken his hand away.

He led her out from the rain, into a small eve that sheltered them both from the rain. Again, they stood opposite one another; there being not much room between the two of them. She could the warmth radiating off of him due to the close proximity.

He looked down at her small frame, noticing she had started to shiver. Without a second thought, he started taking of his suit jacket.

As he took of his suit jacket, she spotted the signature pocket watch tucked into his vest, along with the gun holster that was sitting on his shoulders that had been concealed underneath his jacket until now.

He looked into her eyes, not needing to speak as he silently asked for permission. The space between them was small, but he managed to wrap his jacket around her.

She glanced up at him gratefully, meeting his gaze and holding onto the front of his jacket to stop it from falling from her shoulders. She was engulfed by the smell of his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes, it made her heart beat all the faster. It was comforting.

“I’m Finn Shelby,” he spoke, his hands not once leaving her waist.

“Y/N L/N,” she responded.

Her eyes trailed his face, admiring him.

Finn smiled down at her, wanting nothing more than to make her feel safe. He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her small frame until she stopped shaking. Resting his head on top of hers, the pair gently swayed in one another’s arms, listening to the rain as it began to fade away.

“Would you let me walk you home?” he asked, pulling his head away to look down at her, suddenly becoming shy at the close proximity of their faces.

She nodded, resting her forehead against his, “I’d like that.”

The pair soon set off into the night, Finn never once leaving her side.

Y/N felt comfortable in his presence, knowing there was something special about him. It was like she had known him for her entire life, his eyes were so alive with promise.

They had talked the whole way, both of them blushing when their arms would brush together.

Their hearts fell just that little bit when they arrived underneath the bike shed at the Nurse’s home.

Finn leaned against the wooden post as he watched Y/N put her bicycle away, unbuckling her nursing bag from the back. She held the bag by her side and glanced in his direction, smiling like she couldn’t help it.

“Thank you for walking me home, and for being there for me. I can’t bear to imagine what would have happened to me if you didn’t show up.”

Finn smiled, leaning off of the post and standing up straight as she handed him back his suit jacket, “Anything to keep you safe.”

He could see that he had made the girl blush at his words, she’s so beautiful he thought.

He shrugged his suit jacket back on, his gun holster now being concealed once again. The two of them stood in a comfortable silence for a few seconds, dreading the thought of having to leave one another.

Y/N then rummaged through her nursing bag, Finn being confused once she pulled out a small bottle of whiskey.

“Been drinking on the job?” Finn joked, looking back into her eyes.

“No, uh..,” she chuckled, clearing her throat, “I was given this tonight from a grateful patient, I delivered her baby.”

Finn nodded, putting his hands in his pockets, “Boy or girl?”

“A little girl,” she smiled, “I don’t drink so I thought you could take this, consider it a thank you.”

Finn laughed and took the small bottle she offered him, his fingers brushing against hers, “I’ll take it, but there really is no need to thank me.”

Y/N kept eye contact with him, unsure of what to say next. Finn managed to beat her to it, stepping closer so he was right in front of her.

“Will I see you again?” he asks in a sort of hushed whisper.

“You will,” she responded, a wave of confidence suddenly coming over her.

She took one more step, her body now being pressed up against his. she slipped her hand through his jacket, placing her hand over his heart. She could feel it pounding through his chest as she reached up and placed a kiss on the corner of his lips, teasing him.

“I’ll see you soon, Mr Shelby.”

2272 words

#finn shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #finn shelby #finn shelby fanfiction #finn shelby imagine #john shelby #tommy shelby #harry kirton #arthur shelby #grace shelby #finn shelby x y/n #finn shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfic #finn shelby fanfic #finn shelby smut

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ram-like · 2 months

Text

my long-winded and probably poorly thought out perspective on the ""transramcoa"" trend that's been sweeping this site recently:

it's easy to view these people as one in the same with our (as ramcoa survivors) abusers, but in reality I don't think what they're doing is so morally detestable as people suggest. this is not to say I'm pro-transID or transramcoa, I absolutely am not. I just think people are ascribing malice to these people's actions when in reality what's happening is that they've been effectively groomed into believing this is a healthy way to see their own experiences by a larger community.

yes, it's true, this won't apply to all people who identify as transramcoa. and lots of people will probably take me posting this as an attack, that I'm just trying to psychoanalyze them or whatever. but in general, from what I've seen - the people claiming to be transramcoa on this site, posting cutesy, romanticised terms and posts and etc etc - are by and large very young, some as young as 13 or 14, and by majority also "cisramcoa survivors".

I don't support any of these actions, but I do think it should be very easy to see for most people who found out about their abuse history at a young age how easy it would be to get swept up into this charade as a survivor of severe abuse which you can't seem to cope with. if you've been told your whole life that all you're good for is this abuse, or forced to believe you enjoy it, would it not be easier to just accept that? to perpetuate your abusers' rhetoric to yourself in order to make all of the hurt go away, since now it's something that's normal or good or you feel in control of. considering this, and conditioned and programmed mindsets that feed into this, as well as an entire community of people who want nothing more than to endlessly validate eachother, because they effectively exist in an online bubble where this IS the normal, that it's okay to see your own abuse like that and easy to pretend that this is the healthiest way to feel or be - I can very easily see how these people have arrived at the place that they have.

I think the majority of the "transramcoa" community is filled with young people who don't know how to cope with their abuse, and who have met older people or simply people who have been in this community longer telling them that just making their abuse seem like a thing which can be consensual and romanticised and sought after will make it easier for them. I think this is a group of seriously hurt people formalising some of the thought processes or feelings that a lot of abuse survivors genuinely experience. that it's just easier to feel this way. that the abuse you suffered was deserved, or you wanted it, or you want(ed) it to continue, because that's what your abusers told you.

many of these blogs also say they are a singular "transramcoa" part in a larger, anti-transramcoa system. again, it is easy for me to see how early in my recovery, when I had parts who were still very cult-loyal but not the ability to realise that as a collective I should not be acting as if that's their fault, conscious decision, or genuine moral belief, that some of these parts might have been driven to similar spaces if they had existed at the time, because they were forced to believe by both my abusers AND the rest of my system that somehow this was their fault & nobody would ever treat them in a positive way besides my abusers, so the only solution would be to go back, to seek out more abuse, to find their "normal".

these people should not be spammed with traumadumps, or endlessly harassed, or told vile and violent things in their askboxes or any of this. these people should be *ignored*. much of their behaviour reads as attention seeking. much of their behaviour reads like they're telling themselves they enjoy all of the harassment or want it to continue. none of what is happening is good for them. we, as a community of abuse survivors, should be removing the attention we give these people, and this community, stopping the endless hate trains and stopping the fact that we are continually publicising this behaviour, because it is SO easy for young abuse survivors to see it, feel they may have experienced some similar sentiments (like ive mentioned above), and feel that THIS is what people are attacking, demonising, and saying is amoral and disgusting.

we should not be directing young people to find blogs like this. it is an unhealthy way to think, and be, and I truly believe most of these people are hurting and clinging to an unhealthy coping mechanism many survivors have probably considered in a different way in the past.

it is okay to think you deserved what happened to you. it is normal to feel like you want to be abused further. it is understandable to want to return to a traumatic environment or even seek one out. it is even understandable to feel you enjoyed your abuse at times, or that you must've done or you wouldn't have allowed it to continue, hence placing the blame on yourself.

all of these things are normal for abuse survivors. these are not healthy thought processes, though, and I promise they go away with time as you recover, maybe if never fully. these things are not "transid or atypical dysphoria". they do not mean you are transramcoa or that you should be demonised as a person, even though I know these thoughts can feel horrible. what happened to you is never your fault. but this is not the way to deal with it.

I hope all people in the transramcoa community can get the help they need, and I hope people can stop demonising thought processes like this (to be clear - not corresponding actions which cause actual harm), because we as a community are unintentionally feeding into perfect survivor bullshit when we do this. traumadumping in strangers inboxes is absolutely never the solution to anything.

(to be clear, I don't want transramcoa blogs on my blog, but I understand this post is very likely to show up in transramcoa-adjacent searches as I've said the term so many times here. because of that, transramcoa blogs can interact with this post ONLY. thank you.)

#trauma survivor #cult survivor #did system #ramcoa #oea survivor #ramcoa survivor #programmed system #oea #programming survivor #tbmc

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