#it's saying I need more. it's saying I need substance I need the humanity I need the LOVE

[raphaelesbian]

Day 24 - Favorite Villain (a Saki and Yoshi analysis)

Okay friends. Rubs my hands together evilly. I love 2012 Splinter and Shredder. Like, they are by FAR the most fascinating iteration of both characters—raised as brothers, both completely unaware that Saki is a member of an enemy clan, a clan that the Hamato categorically DESTROYED. It leaves Shredder with a very sympathetic story, and portrays the Hamato as, at BEST, incredibly morally grey. And I think that is so fun! It makes the Foot/Hamato conflict in the main story much richer to me, as it’s a very PERSONAL story. The Hamato and Foot have been in conflict for centuries, but it rarely feels like that is the catalyst for their interactions in present, y’know?

But so much of their story is left vague. Which I, perhaps in the minority, actually really like! I love having the puzzle of it all. It makes sense to me that Splinter doesn’t talk about the situation in much depth, despite his overall openness with his sons about his past as a human. I think the conflict with Saki hurts, and it’s just. More than they really need to know. As it becomes relevant, he explains, but he doesn’t sit them down and regale them with the story of Saki and Yoshi. The closest we get to that is in Vengeance is Mine (S2E22), where he sits with Karai and explains what happened between them. However, even then it is implied that he’s leaving a lot out I think. This is the transcript:

Splinter: The bitter feud between the Hamato and Foot clans lasted centuries. Oroku Saki was the son of the enemy, but he was just a child, so my father gave him shelter. We were raised as brothers and rivals in all things, as brothers are. But that rivalry soon turned bitter when we met Tang Shen, your mother. Jealousy became hatred when Saki learned of his true heritage. He swore vengeance and rebuilt the Foot clan. One night, Oroku Saki struck. The blow that was meant for me struck your mother instead. Shredder blamed me, and in his rage, he burned our home to the ground, leaving me to my fate. 

Very short and to-the-point. But something that stood out to me was what we see in the flashback while he’s talking. He says “The bitter feud lasted centuries,” and we see this:

He says “Oroku Saki was the son of the enemy, but he was just a child, so my father gave him shelter,” and we see this:

We, as viewers, can pretty easily infer that the Hamato attacked the Foot, very violently! He speaks about a long feud, but does not actually reference any specific incident. But the on-screen flashback does. Similarly, he says that Saki was “just a child,” but then shows Hamato Yuuta (their father) standing over him, surrounded by flames and bodies, with his swords drawn. The implication being that Yuuta made the choice, in that moment, to not kill him. Which is a far less passive action than what Splinter states. 

Shredder, of course, we know is pretty delusional, so he says very little of substance on the situation. The interesting part about him is what it says about his psyche and interpretation of it all, but I digress. 

Beyond flashbacks, we have Tale of the Yokai, where we actually get to SEE young Yoshi and Saki. One of my favorite episodes by far—seeing what they were like before everything got BAD bad is really fun, and also gives a lot of insight into their relationship. But the timeline of it was very intriguing to me. Because it is the day before and then the day of Saki’s revenge on the Hamato. Okay, cool. 

This is not where he learns of his heritage. He KNEW his true heritage already going into the episode. 

And he’s still living with them. 

Some nebulous amount of time passed between him learning he was an Oroku and him killing all of the Hamato, and during that time he continued to train with Yoshi, Yuuta continued to call them brothers and received no pushback, etc. That’s not what you would expect, right? And I don’t think Saki learned the truth and kept it a secret or anything. When this happens:

Yoshi: Take Miwa and go, Shen. Shen: [worriedly] But, Yoshi, Saki, please! You are brothers. Saki: [coldly] No, we were never blood. Yoshi: [to Shen; sternly, but calmly] Shen, go now.

Neither Yoshi nor Shen react with any confusion at Saki’s statement. They know that he isn’t related already.

(Also, sidebar, the line immediately after this: 

Saki: How can one love and hate someone so fiercely? [Raising his Tekko-kagi claws in a fighting stance.] Yoshi: If your desire is to fall by my hand, brother,[Putting his hands behind his back.] so be it.

He’s not talking about Shen here, change my mind)

Okay, but then, when DID he figure it all out? That has been my question, and I think I kind of pieced it together watching Vengeance is Mine. Timeline:

“Jealousy became hatred when Saki learned of his true heritage.” He learned the truth AFTER Shen left Saki for Yoshi. Here’s the relevant flashback image:

This is just a very interesting frame to me. Saki pointing at them, Yoshi glaring back at him, both with their fists clenched and their shoulders hiked. A very tense situation! What were they saying? Was Yoshi defending their dad’s choices? Was Saki lumping him in with their parents’ generation, and Yoshi was pushing back on it? Was Yoshi refusing to believe him at all? Shen looks shocked, while Yoshi looks more defensive than surprised; however, we also know that Yoshi is a hotheaded guy, so he could’ve been thrown by the situation and reacted with aggression. (These questions were the catalyst for my most recent fic lmao)

Which brings me to the one other real flashback/story we get from Splinter about them (that I can remember, please remind me if there’s more!), from Turtle Temper (S1E3). Splinter tells Raph a story about a time he lost his temper:

Splinter: Her name was Tang Shen, and I was not the only one who loved her. There was another man competing for her attention. Oroku Saki. Shredder. One day, he insulted me in front of her. He called me many things. I felt I could not let those insults go unanswered. I lost my temper. And over time, our rivalry festered into hatred, until Shredder sought to finish me, and I lost my beloved Tang Shen. Raph: But . . . but it wasn't your fault. Shredder insulted you. You had no choice. Splinter: No choice? I could have chosen to ignore him. I could have chosen to let his words wash over me like a river over stone. But I let him anger me. It was I who made his words into weapons. That's the choice I made. What choice will you make?

This is obviously super early in the series, so there’s some weirdness here. Referring to Saki as just “another man competing for her attention,” no mention of the Hamato/Foot rivalry, etc. But still, the flashback has this image:

Which, you may notice, is the EXACT same frame from Vengeance. Now, obviously, this could just be laziness, BUT. If you interpret them as having been the same incident, I think that’s very intriguing! Assuming Yoshi is telling the truth for both flashbacks, just with varying amounts of detail, Saki insulted him here, and that led to a physical altercation. Was the insult ABOUT the Hamato clan's past? Did Saki storm in and start yelling about the murder of the Oroku, and Yoshi reacted by losing his temper? Or was Yoshi perhaps trying to calm him down, Saki insulted him personally, and Yoshi attacked him in response? There’s a lot of different ways this could’ve gone, but I think looking at the two as the same thing is like. I Am Looking Intently. 

Which then leads me to the timeline. I think they look about the same age in that section of the flashback as they do later, where Saki takes the Hamato down, so my guess is he wasn’t rebuilding the Foot too awful long. But it also couldn’t have been too short—there was enough time for him to build the Foot up pretty strong, AND it seems that there isn’t much awkwardness or animosity between Saki and Yoshi/Shen/Yuuta. My guess is a few years have passed, long enough for everyone to THINK Saki got over it. 

Which??? Is that not INSANE to think about?? I mentioned it earlier but just. Again. Saki learned that he’s adopted, learned that his adoptive family killed his bio family, and then continued to live with them and go about his life. For potentially a few years!! Like it could’ve been less time, obviously, we have literally no idea. But I just feel like, for him to have a whole actual Foot clan ready-to-go to massacre the Hamato, that takes time. Plus, I assume for that fight that Shen and Yoshi weren’t already married + Miwa, just from the way Splinter talks about it (though that’s loose since, as mentioned earlier, he isn’t always the most upfront). Plus, for everyone to be so chill with Saki? Like I just don’t think it’s fresh. I think he played the long con here. With his family. And none of them had a clue. 

Anywayyyyy. I was mostly just very excited to have pieced those flashbacks together lmao, and I need more people thinking about the implications of what we know (and what we DON’T) about their backstory. 2012 Splinter and Shredder you are everything to me. 

[newfeeling77]

i love my friends so much my connection with other ppl makes my life worth living. i love finding common ground and understanding with regular people and understanding im part of something bigger than ill ever truly comprehend, because human relationships (to me) are another plane of understanding and love, from short once in a lifetime interactions to lifelong friendships, because its about memories and how much of a wonderful scrapbook you can make of your experiences… im grateful for every second no matter how painful or scary because i know its my only shot at living which means so much to me because i wasnt always sure id make it… i was going to just put this in my notes app out of embarrassment for sincerity but everyone i interact with gives me this feeling and that includes you people on here. its really incredible

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

XO is actually a fascinating song from a Christian perspective but idk if I can figure out how to put it into words

[paradoxiii]

What is it like to not be tired all the time???

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

two of the transfems youre friends with have been talking to you about the clinic they got their bottom surgery done at. apparently its dirt cheap, and the surgeon - despite some oddities and, your friends admit, poor hygiene - is incredibly talented. theyre more than happy to give you her phone number when you ask, and while it sounds simultaneously incredibly sketchy and way too good to be true, at this point youre just so broke, desperate, and tired of gatekeepers that you're willing to give it a shot.

you call on a thursday afternoon, and the call is picked up on the fourth ring, when youre just gearing up to hear an answering machine. the voice on the other end sounds like a middle-aged woman with a smoking habit trying to sound like a cheery, bubbly young girl, and mostly succeeding. hiiiii! what can i do for you? she asks. you say er im looking for a surgical clinic is this the right number? she says mhm! thats me. you say okay, i just have a few questions. she says shoot. you say do you take patients who arent referred to you? she says nobody refers patients to me so yes. then she giggles. youve never heard somebody pull off a giggle in real life. you ask okay, so ive been looking for a place to get my metoidoplasty done, can you do that here? she says i dont know what that is give me like five seconds. then the line goes silent. you can hear her typing on a mechanical keyboard and humming to herself as she reads. youre now convinced that this is not in any way a legitimate medical institution.

youre about to hang up when she comes back on the line. OH you need a dick she says. sure i can do that! does tuesday afternoon work for you? i have that morning free too but i HATE getting up in the mornings so id rather not schedule it if i have to. you say tuesday afternoon is fine, how long should i expect the visit to be? she says i dont know like seven hours? you say seven hours? she says yeah give or take a few, every person is different so i dont know what itll be like until ive got your cunt opened up. honestly probably best to take the whole day off just in case it turns out to be a tough operation. you dont respond to that immediately. she says oh shoot should i not use the word cunt, is that too gendered? sorry. you say no its fine. you say i thought i was just going in for a consult? she says i mean yeah if youd rather. i dont mind doing same-day but some people like having more time to think about their options. do you have somewhere to be tuesday night or something? you say no its just... no tuesday afternoon should be fine. she says okay great!

she gives you her address. she says knock three times so i know its you and not my parole officer. parole officer you ask? she says im being good i promise but i still hate talking to him hes boring. you say if you dont mind me asking what were you imprisoned for? she says the ones i plead guilty to at the trial were a hundred and ninety-two counts of first-degree murder with a parahuman ability, two hundred and fifty-six counts of physical and emotional torture with a parahuman ability, five hundred and six counts of intentional infliction of emotional distress with a parahuman ability, four hundred ninety-eight counts of aggravated assault and battery with a parahuman ability, four hundred twenty five counts of domestic terrorism with a parahuman ability and two hundred and twelve counts without, three counts of arson, two hundred forty two counts of burglary with a parahuman ability, three hundred eight four counts of robbery with a parahuman ability, four hundred twenty seven counts of abduction with a parahuman ability, a hundred eighty six counts of human trafficking with a parahuman ability, three hundred ninety counts of destruction of public property with a parahuman ability, eighty counts of possession of a controlled substance, more than three thousand conspiracy and complicity charges in various felonies, eighteen violations of the Geneva Conventions, and the unauthorized practice of medicine. i plead not guilty to the larceny, sexual assault, contempt of court, corporate espionage, and identity theft charges and the prosecutor didnt really try to fight it since i had already earned seventy life sentences from the other stuff so im technically innocent of those.

you dont say anything to that.

after three seconds of silence she says sooooooooo i'll see you tuesday? you say tuesday, yeah. what was your name again? Riley, she says. Riley Grace Davis. you say thanks again and then hang up.

you debate constantly during the intervening days whether you should go on tuesday. youre grateful your friend group is so slutty; it means youve already seen with your own eyes that this surgery is real and not just a lure to murder you. still, you have some reservations, which you think is perfectly understandable.

you call one of your friends whos been there already. she picks up and you say if this is a joke its only sort of funny. she says if whats a joke? you say the clinic. you say you DID give me the actual number to the place where you actually had your bottom surgery done right? she says yeah, dont worry the surgeons so sweet. you say she admitted to doing two hundred murders when she was on the phone. she says i dont know anything about that but i trust her. you say if i end up dead, kidnapped, or mutilated, its your fault. she says dont worry about it.

tuesday comes. you never agreed to an exact time so you show up as early as you can and still have it be "afternoon" in your mind - 12:30. you climb the rusted fire escape to the third floor door and knock three times. the door is answered by a woman six feet tall in casual but very nice clothes with frizzy brown hair and an expression you cant read. you say er, riley? she says nope. another girl pushes past her, exasperated. she's maybe five foot two and her wavy blonde hair is worn down, with a red bow in it. she's wearing torn jeans - naturally torn, not the sort that you buy with holes in them that youve always hated but the kind that were once normal jeans and now have worn through much of the fabric on the knees. her tshirt is faded and has stains that you cant quite place on it, but youre pretty sure it was once Eidolon merchandise.

she says damnit amy let me answer the door next time. the taller woman, amy apparently, shrugs and steps aside to let you in riley claps her hands together once youre inside and the door is shut. introductions! she shouts. amy, this is, er... I never actually got your name? you tell them your name. she says right! hes one of my clients. and this is Amy, my sister. dont worry about her, shes just a little awkward. amy says can you PLEASE not introduce me as your sister. riley says make me. then she grabs amys shirt and pulls her down, standing on her tiptoes at the same time. they kiss in a very un-sisterly way. you clear your throat politely.

riley breaks away and says right, yeah, sorry! i get distracted easy. youre here to get a dick right. you splutter a bit, both at the bluntness of the question and the fact that amy is still standing right there. riley follows your gaze. she says oh dont worry about her! sorry, i wouldve run her off earlier, i thought you wouldnt come by for another few hours. you say sorry. she says dont worry, its her fault. amy says you didnt tell me you had a client. riley says you didnt ASK. you clear your throat politely again. you say er yes, i did come in for metoidoplasty. she bites her lip and furrows her brow. she says metoido... oh right. well i dont really do that here but i can give you a dick. you say uh im not really interested in phalloplasty. she says whats phalloplasty? amy says its the construction of a penis, usually via tissue flap taken from another part of the body, often followed by the insertion of prosthetics to allow the constructed penis to achieve erection. riley says oh, huh. yeah i dont do that either. i can give you a dick though. she takes a second then puts on an exaggerated scowl. who would want that she asks? amy says lots of people prefer it to metoido for aesthetic reasons or because they dont think theyll be large enough for penetrative sex with metoido. riley says but it wouldnt feel like a dick! man, some surgeons are talentless hacks.

you clear your throat again. you say so if youre- riley says youre clearing your throat a lot, are you okay? you say im fine, its just- she says oh duh were being so rude! why are we all standing around here. come sit down in the living room, do you want anything to drink? she leads you into the living room. it has the unmistakable air of a room thats been cleaned recently, with vacuuming marks present in the carpet and the unmistakable scent of air freshener. the sofa that you're gestured to sit on is, by contrast, unbelievably filthy. stains of every sort are visible on it - some of them are obvious, like the patches of blood and vomit or the ring of a coffee mug. others take you a second to place, like the crusty streak along one cushion that you realize all at once is semen, or the sticky yellow parts that you hope to god are honey. some of them, like the muddy green handprint along one arm of the sofa or the deep black smudge along a seat, are completely foreign to you. you can smell it from several feet away.

amy notices your hesitancy. she says i keep telling her to throw that thing out. riley says and i keep telling HER that its a relic from earth bet! its an antique and itll be worth millions soon. it just needs a good deep cleaning. amy says what that sofa needs is a bullet, not a deep clean. you sit down. drink? riley asks. you say er what do you have? she says water, diet coke, vodka, coffee. no more beer though, SOMEBODY drank the last one. amy says you never said they were off limits! riley says they arent, im just teasing. you say waters fine. riley says aaaaaaaaaamyyyyyyy, could you pleeeeeeaaaaaaaase go get our guest a glass of water and me a diet coke? oh and can you grab the pill bottle on the second shelf of the spice cabinet. amy says sure, i'll be right back.

riley sits down next to you. she says sooooooo what do you want for your dick? you say sorry, if youre not doing phallo or metoido then what exactly are you offering? she says no offense but it would take like literally eight years to give you enough background info for you to understand my explanation, and i dont have that kind of time. im not getting any younger. except for when i am. she laughs louder than you thought a human could. you have no idea how to describe the sound of her laughter. she says just tell me about your dream dick and ill give it to you. trust me, im a doctor.

except that youre not, amy says, returning with glasses and pills in hand. she sets the water down in front of you and you immediately take large gulps, feeling very much lost right now. riley says am TOO, accepting the pill bottle and diet coke from amy. she frowns. why is it can diet coke, she asks? she says glass bottle is so much better. she says why did i even BUY can. amy says they are literally the same liquid, what do you mean its better. riley says theyre not the same, stop deluding yourself. amy says which of us is the REAL doctor? riley says both of us! the PRT finally issued me an equivalency. youre talking to doctor riley davis, MED. amy says oh really? congrats she says. riley beams. then she unscrews the lid of the unlabeled, dark brown glass bottle, grabs three pills, and pops them into her mouth.

what is that you ask. ectasy she says. you want some? you say no thanks. she says you sure? you say i probably shouldnt take drugs before an operation, what if it interacts with the anesthetic? riley says dont worry, i made my own anesthetic that has zero drug-drug interactions. amy says except with sudafed. riley says ok YEAH except with sudafed, how was i supposed to know? she glances at you. you dont take sudafed do you she asks. you say no. she says good. it was such a bitch cleaning the pus off the ceiling she says. you say huh? she says dont worry about it, you dont take sudafed. she says are you sure you dont want any ecstasy? i promise its pure. you say i dont want to get addicted. she says i can surgically remove the addiction pathway from your brain if that would help. amy says riley, no means no. riley says fine. do you want any ecstasy babe? she says no thanks. riley frowns. she says you guys are a bunch of squares. she pops a fourth one and starts chugging diet coke.

she slams the can down after drinking what must be half of it, wipes her mouth with her arm and grins. sorry, we keep getting distracted! she says. she says im getting into the start of a manic episode and that always makes me roll right over people in conversation. what do you want for your dick? you say um. i hadnt really thought about it. its not normally a choice beyond the type of surgery, you sort of just end up with whatever the doctors are able to make work? thats lame she says. why are normal doctors all so lame she says. ok, rude amy says. OBVIOUSLY im not talking about you babe riley says. and stop distracting me from my client! amy holds up her hands in mock surrender, an easy smile on her face.

you didnt bring a toy with you did you, riley asks. you say huh. she says sometimes people bring a toy that they want me to model it after and that makes everything a lot easier. you say no you didn't. you say i hadn't really thought about my preferences, can we go dealer's choice on this? amy pipes up. she says you REALLY dont want riley to go dealers choice. riley says shut up and get me another diet coke, i just finished this one. amy says yes princess. you honestly cant read whether it was meant to be mocking or endearing. riley turns back to you. ok, she says, lets start with basics. primate? canid? equine? suine? dolphin? i could give you a hyena pseudopenis but i dont know if that would be offensive. you say human is fine. she says please dont tell me you're gonna just be boring this whole time. you say define boring. she sighs deeply and starts massaging her temples. amy, having stepped into the room in time to hear the last bit of conversation, tousles rileys hair. she says sorry babe, customer's always right.

you work out the appearance of your soon-to-exist cock this way. riley asks questions about length, girth, hair, amount of semen generated, percentage growth when erect, and you try to give what you think are average answers every time. amy watches, bemused, the whole time. halfway through she leaves to get the bottle of vodka. she drinks five shots in fifteen minutes. you say i didnt think the human body had that much capacity for alcohol resistance. she says it doesnt. riley swats playfully at her arm.

eventually, riley grabs a set of crayons and a cocktail napkin. she says ok, i think we got it, scribbling furiously. she shows you a crayon drawing of a dick. this look good she asks? you squint at it. there are no measurements given and the medium does not allow you to make out any fine detail. you say yeah thats fine. amy tries and fails to hide a smile. riley chucks the napkin aside and rubs her hands together. boring parts done! she says. time to get messy she says. amy pours a sixth shot of vodka. she says dont forget the anesthetic first. riley rolls her eyes. she says OBVIOUSLY i didnt forget the anesthetic. she says ill be right back. as soon as she leaves the room, amy knocks back her shot. she turns to you. she says you mind if i stay and watch? she says i dont want to make you uncomfortable, but i like watching her work. shes cute when shes working. you say at this point youre not sure you would mind anything at all. you say at this point you dont think you would be fazed if she came back with a fully-formed dick wriggling around in her hand like a fish and sewed it onto me. she says dont tempt fate.

riley comes back with a black bag the size of her head, which she sets on the coffee table with a thunk. she points at you and says okay, clothes off. or pants off i guess. you can leave the shirt on. or take it off. i dont care. you take it off. she tells you to lie down and starts pulling things out of the bag. amy stands up from the sofa to give you the space to stretch out and sits on the coffee table instead, one leg pulled up to her chest with her chin resting on her knee.

riley pulls out a syringe from the bag, filled with pitch-black fluid. she says okay this will hurt for a second but only for a second. you say huh? she flips you over onto your belly and jabs the needle against your lower back, into your spinal column. it hurts like a bitch for all of two seconds and then you stop feeling anything at all in your lower body. you also cant move your legs, you realize. what just happened you ask, as she flips you onto your back again. she says i just killed all the cells in the nerves in your lower spine. she says its the easiest way to make sure none of the pain signals slip through, and she'll just replace them with living ones when she's done. you don't know how to respond to that.

she pulls more things out of the bag. a cartoonish array of different cutting implements come out. most of them are various sizes of medical scalpel, ring cutter, or saw, but you also see a pair of chunky pink safety scissors, a pizza cutter, a serrated bread knife, an x-acto, a drill with a comically long bit, a pair of wire cutters, gardening shears, and an awl. she says okay im gonna start operating so look away if you dont wanna see how your crotch looks while its being rearranged. especially if you think you might puke, i hate having to stop to clean up puke in the middle of surgery. you look away. you notice amy is watching transfixed.

for a couple of hours things go on like that. amy and riley make light conversation, with riley filling any silence by humming a wordless tune you dont know. the sounds and smells youre getting are enough to make you slightly sick; you continue not looking.

in the middle of hour two, riley stops. oh goddamnit, she says. what amy asks? riley says she forgot that shed need extra meat. amy says you started a surgery to give somebody a whole new organ and forgot youd need more tissue to do it? riley says shut up, im dumb. amy says no youre not babe. riley says ughhhhh now what. amy says just get his stem cells to grow the tissue you need. riley says nooooooo thatll take forever, and i have places to BE tomorrow, and if i stop putting pressure on him here hes going to bleed out through his cunt. you say wait, what? amy says well i dont know what you want me to do about this situation, i gave you my solution. riley says baaaaaaaaaaabe. amy says whaaaaaaaaaaaat. riley says i think we have some bacon in the fridge, will you pretty please with sprinkles on top go get it? amy says and what do i get in return? riley says a kiss. amy says id get that anyway. riley says my undying love and affection. amy says i have that already. riley says not making me angry at you so you can sleep under my roof without having to worry that ill turn your sweat glands into acid glands in the middle of the night. amy says that, plus i get to top tonight. riley says fiiiiiiiiine, just go get the bacon. amy gets up.

you say look uh i know you said not to question what youre doing but i kind of dont want a dick made of bacon, not to sound ungrateful. also did you say something about me bleeding out? riley says dont worry, if you bleed out ill put the blood back in, im a professional. you say thats not as reassuring as she thinks it is. riley says whos the doctor, mister? you say technically both of us. i have a phd in social sciences you say. she says wow, theyre just giving out doctorates for anything these days, huh? you say hey, rude. she says only teasing. you say anyway, uh, you didnt address the bacon dick thing? she says oh dont worry about it, my amys amazing, youll see.

amy comes back in with the package of bacon. do you need this in any particular shape she asks. riley says nah just give me a good amount of it. and make sure its spongy, so when he gets hard the blood can- amy cuts her off. she says dont worry, ive given you enough penises at this point that i think i know what penile tissue is like at this point. you say given her enough penises? what the hell does that mean? riley says hey, dont kinkshame! she sounds legitimately offended. you say sorry. amy pulls the bacon out of the package, holding it aloft in her left hand. you watch as the familiar look of a half-pound of bacon shifts and warps into a strange lump of fatty, spongy tissue of a waxy color. she hands it to riley. riley says thanks sis youre the best, love you! amy says no problem. riley says id kiss you if i wasnt elbow deep in this guys cunt right now. amy says kiss me after the surgerys done.

another two hours go by. the sounds of flesh being chopped, sawed, and stitched underscore riley and amys meaningless conversation about whether they HAVE to attend their acquaintance lisa's birthday party. riley says lisa probably wouldn't throw a birthday party if there wasn't some sort of scheme going on. amy agrees but says that doesnt indicate whether they should get involved with the scheme or not. you wonder dimly if you will ever feel your lower body again. you wonder if this is purgatory, an endless afternoon of lesbians bickering affectionately while one of them does surgery on you. you turn your head enough to look at the clock. its 5:26pm. where the fuck did the time go?

another hour passes. riley stands up. she is soaked up to her elbow in various bodily fluids - mostly blood, but youre not looking too closely. she says finally! she says just need to regrow your nerve cells now. you say is that going to take long? she says like twenty minutes maybe as she flips you over. you say ok. she jams a different needle into the same spot, injecting a strange yellow paste into your spine. she then flips you onto your back again. you feel brave enough to finally look at your crotch.

there is a completely normal human penis of average size there. you reach a hand down and touch it. you dont have any sensation in it yet since your nerves are all still dead, but it feels warm and soft under your hands. you smile, feeling tears come to your eyes. its over.

rileys talking. she says i followed your specifications except i had to cheat a bit on the nerves, you actually didnt have very many in your clit for whatever reason so your glans has maybe eight thousand fewer nerves than you wanted, sorry about that. she says i gave you balls in your scrotum for shape but since you said you didnt want kids they dont produce sperm. let me know if you want that changed she says. she says it should be fully functional in every respect, but if you notice any erectile dysfunction, incontinence, discoloration in urine or semen, priapism, or any other issue come back and we'll sort it out. if you notice it bleeding in ANY capacity, call me immediately. if im not answering call Amy, ill give you her number. if SHES not answering either then you can start seeing normal doctors, not that those idiots will know how to help you probably. if you want any changes to it call me and ill pencil you in to get it adjusted. get all that she asks. you nod. she says cool. she says itll be like $200, no rush if youre not able to pay right now. you say it might be a bit since youre still trying to pay interest on your student loan debt. wait, she says, they have student loans again? you nod. she says the world ended like thirty years ago, when did they set up student loans again? fuck, how much do you owe? you say a little under eighty thousand. she says jesus fuck, nevermind, its free. goddamn. you say thank you so much. she says yeah of course. do you want us to dress you or do you want to wait until you can move and do it yourself?

[kichoukotori]

Several years ago I briefly worked in the warehouse of a nondescript extremely large e-commerce company. I had no other options for employment but desperately needed money. Turnover was like 150%. I worked from something like 7pm to 5am, my commute was 50 minutes each way and before I got paid I didn't even have the cash for enough gas to get home one night and had to bum $10 off of my kid sibling (this is all to give you an idea of my abysmal mental state while employed here.) You're not allowed to do anything besides your job, no music or anything and they track your movement on cameras so you can't even take a breather. The job is real monotonous, you get sent boxes of items of random sizes and you have to put the items into shelves of varying sizes and the shelves come to you, you don't walk to them. Because the company tracks the rate at which you put items on these shelves, many small items are desirable because you can put a lot of them in quickly. Everything about the place seems almost designed intentionally to break you mentally and turn you into a robot. So I'm about 6 or 7 hours into my shift, feeling on the verge of a mental collapse, and up comes a container with a bunch of small white boxes, bout half the size of a deck of cards. No labels. Great, I'm already happy about whatever these things are. So I go to scan them in, and it gives you the name of the item and a little picture. Sasuke Penis Costume. What? Sasuke Penis Costume. A picture of that red cloud robe from Naruto and one of the headbands with the metal plate on it. I'm thinking, there's no way. What is a penis costume? Am I hallucinating this? And there's so many of them, literally about a hundred, and I know I'm going to be spending at least an hour with Sasuke Penis Costume, there's so many and they're so small, I'm already excited about the potential efficiency of these, and then I see it's Sasuke Penis Costume? So the entire shift I'm like, trying to not put these things away too quick, because honestly I'm starting to build a kind of kinship with them. This is quite literally the most exciting thing to happen to me during my whole 2 week employment at the warehouse. I started to see Sasuke Penis Costume as a friend, some reminder of the outside world, a reminder of the humanity I was becoming so unfamiliar with, a reminder the world contained comedy, art, anime, and penis. I really couldn't tell you if I ended up putting all of them away, the last thing I remember is my desperate need to look these items up when I got home. I needed a link to send to my friends for when I told them this riveting story. I learned that the costume is called the Akatsuki cloak in my fervent search for the item, and wouldn't you know it, absolutely zero trace of these things exists online. Not on the e-commerce website, not on any specialized penis-costume websites (whose existence I was not privvy to prior to this incident) and no third-party retailer has these. Not even Google images will show me the hypothetical existence of Sasuke Penis Costume. Every few months I look it up, trying to find evidence that it can be bought, that any of this was ever real. My bond, my friendship, and dare I say even love for Sasuke Penis Costume feels as tangible as the boxes they came in, and yet the universe will give me no closure of their fate. Less and less frequently I search for them, each time becoming more and more discouraged that I will ever find them, but unlike their substance on this earth, one thing is inarguably certain. Sasuke Penis Costume exists to me, and it will live on firmly and resolutely within my memory and within my heart.

[thicctails]

I need more info on the get better children au, especially about when Bill shows up.

*rubs hands together* I finally got some extra time to draw up some new art for this AU, so let's give it some substance >:3 Long post below the read more with extra art :D

Before Euclydia was destroyed, Euclid and Scalene Cipher were some of its most powerful members. Bill saying that everyone loved him as a baby was true for a time; children aren't born very often, and the Ciphers are considered to almost be royalty. It wasn't until Bill's mutation became apparent that people began to shun him. If he had been born to any other family, he likely would have been abandoned.

Though neither Euclid nor Scalene could really comprehend the concept of something being "up", let alone what "stars" could possibly be, both of them used their status to try and find any scrap of forbidden information, hoping that they could find an answer, could find some confirmation that their son wasn't crazy, and didn't need to be blinded by his "medicine."

It was this research that eventually saved their lives. Having the knowledge that it was possible for things to, hypothetically, exist in a three dimensional plane allowed them to pool their powers and create 3D forms for themselves when Euclydia began to burn, pulling themselves off the 2D plane like a sticker being peeled off a page. It wasn't a smooth transition in the slightest, and the flames managed to damage parts of their bodies before they managed to fully free themselves. The rest of their power went into escaping their collapsing reality, and when all was said and done, they were left near catatonic and floating in the space between time and space for many, many years.

They don't really start to recover until a certain frilly guy upstairs nudges them into a new, stable dimension. This one is almost entirely 3D, and inhabited by creatures that look completely alien to the Euclydians. Creatures called humans.

They meet Dipper and Mabel not long after, and the two triangles attach themselves to the babies, doing their best to care for them in their weakened states when their young, unprepared parents fail to be adequate caretakers. Being 2D is far easier for them, so they stick to the walls like shadows and find ways to speak to the twins, slipping into videos and pictures, music and books, their forms changing slightly to match whatever media they slipped into. They teach Dipper and Mabel their colours, shapes, ABC's, ect, comfort them when they get sad or scared, and once they're old enough, how to do basic things like getting themselves food and water when they get left alone too long.

Neither Pines parent really notices their children making grabby hands and babbling at open air at first, though they do become a bit concerned when years pass and they still stare at walls and empty corners like there's something there.

Eventually, as we all know, the Pines twins get shipped off to a sleepy town in Oregon, and Euclid and Scalene are, of course, coming along to watch over their little stars. However, they become deeply uncomfortable when they start to see visages of their son carved into every room of the twin's temporary home.

It doesn't take long for the show's antics to start, but Grunkle Stan gets involved in the twins adventures far earlier because during The Inconveniecing, Euclid uses his ability to manipulate televisions to play one of those old PSA's on loop until he gets spooked enough to actually check on the twins, only to find them missing.

Eventually, through the help of Scalene using a radio to drag up an old advert for the Dusk 2 Dawn, he figures out where they are and arrives just in time to see the tail end of their ghostly encounter. Unable to deny his knowledge of Gravity Falls' weirdness, he and the twins have their Season 1 finale talk that night, and Dipper shows Stan Journal 3, which leads to all three of them searching for Journal 2 (Stan doesn't reveal the portal yet)

Bill gets summoned by Gideon like in Canon, but things veer wildly off course when, upon entering Stan's mind, Mabel asks him if he knows Euclid or Scalene. He freezes up upon hearing the names of his parents, and he immediately calls off the deal with Gideon, ripping himself out of Stan's Dreamscape. Before he can process what happened, he comes face to face with someone he's only seen in daymares for the past trillion years

Bill dips the fuck out once he realizes he's not hallucinating, disappearing to Axolotl knows where to do fun, productive things such as: scream, cry, break shit, sob on the floor, drink until the teeth in his eye ache, stare at the space between stars for days on end, and interrogate every single one of his henchmaniacs to see if they spiked his drink.

Mans has absolutely zero clue on how to navigate this situation, eventually settling on stalking the Pines because he genuinely cannot think of any possible way to approach his (apparently alive????) parents. How do you go about atoning for the extinction of your entire species?

Bill Cipher has never been one to do things for others for any other reason than to get something back, but he figures the best place to start is by protecting these fleshy human young that his parents seem so attached to.

Wait, would that make them siblings? Axolotl, he sure hopes not.

[lemonlimetoast]

To the man in my world lit class who I hate:

L + ratio + I'm biting you + you don't understand literary analysis or the purpose of this paper I'm writing + bitchless + friendless + u didn't leave anything I could use at all in your peer review + shut up + the way you view women isn't necessarily awful but it's weird and kinda bad + probably british + performatively woke in random ass discussion posts + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting yo

[idyllicidols]

Desire.

Shin Yuna. The world sees her as a world famous idol, a paragon of beauty of grace. An individual to look up to, a person to aspire towards. Some might see her as untouchable, in a social sphere somewhere near the clouds. But she is more than just an idol with a hectic schedule and a busy life. Yuna is a real life human being, and every human has their flaws, their desires, their dark secrets that they need to keep hidden from the world.

And right now Yuna sure is living up to desires.

"You gonna do it? You gonna cum on my face?"

There she is, the picture perfect idol, sitting on her feet, naked as the day she was born. Surrounding her are three hand selected males, her hand vigorously pumping the cock directly in front of her. Yuna's eyes are firmly set on the glistening knob that her hands are wrapped around, her fingers nimbly moving from tip to hilt, her thumb digging into the meat and tugging and massaging with ferocious intent.

The other two aren't just standing idly by—they're groping and spanking whatever they feel like, an opportunity like this one is unheard of, but a gift Yuna loves to indulge. You see, underneath that cute and bubbly personality, and beyond all her flawless photoshoots and iconic concerts, the fact remains that Yuna is, above everything else, a cock obsessed slut.

The feeling of multiple hands and several hard, throbbing members grazing her petite body always fills Yuna with a pleasure that no amount of her fingers can ever truly match. The pinching of her nipples, the light and harsh spanks to her ass, the feeling of a cock throbbing in her hands. All of these things send her reeling into euphoria.

"Do it! Cum on my face. You gonna make me work for it? Do I have to suck you off? Make you cum by slurping your juices? My hand not enough?"

Her questions comes with a gentle lick to the underside of his shaft. It makes the cock twitch violently in Yuna's firm grip. He's already reaching his climax, that much is evident to Yuna. The only thing she needs now is for him to vocalize.

"I'm gonna... Yuna, I'm..."

"Come on, babe."

With a guttural moan, Yuna feels her cheek being covered by a blast of sticky warmth, followed by spurts of cum across her lips and chin and nose.

She looks down, mouth gaping, tongue hanging out, eye's narrow. The feeling of the sticky substance smeared over her skin, a marking that has her feel warm all over.

"Who's next?!" Yuna moves away from the well spent man, turning her attention to the other two behind her. One has his hands clasped to Yuna's ample ass, the other never stops roughly groping and grabbing her tits, pulling her nipples this and that way.

Yuna doesn't even know these lucky bastard's names—and that's precisely the point. All she knows is that they're some of her biggest fans, and because Yuna's not one to disappoint her supporters, the only reasonable thing for her to do is invite them back to her hotel room for an honest to God gangbang.

No real names, no exchanging numbers. Just a night of fun.

It's Yuna's idea of an ideal way to unwind before an important gig, and she's taking it upon herself to fully indulge.

"You know I offer more than just hand jobs right? My mouth, my pussy...my ass."

Yuna puts some emphasis when she says the word ass—she knows how taboo it is, to be an idol who loves to be fucked in her forbidden hole. Tempting over eager fan boys is such a power rush to Yuna, especially since she always gets what she wants in the end. And tonight will be no different.

Not only does the sudden spurt of her words catch the other two guys off guard, so do her slender fingers, that have already found their way around the nearest cock.

She looks up into his eyes, practically staring into his soul.

"So what do you say sweetheart? Which hole do you wanna fuck? Do you want my mouth? Is it my pussy you craving?"

Yuna smirks.

"Or maybe," her other hand slowly reaches to her asshole, "you're gonna shove your cock right here and treat me like a total anal slut."

She isn't quite touching her tight hole, but her fingertips hover tantalizing close. Close enough to make the guy think of exactly what she's describing, all the dirty details, from start to end. And the mere thought is starting to make him go crazy.

"Have you ever done anal before?"

Her soft and playful tone is hard to resist. This entire experience has left the guy totally speechless. He shakes his head, unable to verbalize any words of any kind.

"Well what do you say Hun? Wanna pop your anal virginity with a world famous superstar?"

Yuna doesn't even give him a chance to answer—she bends down on the bed, ass up face down, spread apart in a position that leaves her totally open to her new fuck buddies.

He watches in absolute shock and disbelief as Yuna playfully wiggles her plump behind, teasingly caressing her puckering asshole in a display that leaves him unable to hold off. He licks his fingers, saliva coating his palm as he reaches forward to insert his middle finger into Yuna's butt. She wasn't lying; Yuna is an anal loving slut, a star whore, and this position is making her squirm. The soft, coos leaving her lips are proof of the immense arousal coursing through her veins. The fact that her pussy is dripping means even more.

"I don't want your finger," Yuna turns back, staring into his eyes again, "I want your cock."

He pulls his finger out with a lewd squelching sound, only to replace it with his cock—hard and pulsating, a sheer result of the slutty actions from the girl splayed out in front of him, seemingly on a platter.

The tip presses against Yuna's eager asshole. She starts to whimper, just slightly, an involuntary reflex as a wave of pleasure fills her veins. It's about to begin, and that moment is like heaven to Yuna.

"Do it," she utters, more quietly now that the tip of his cock is pressing up against her most private place. "Don't tease. Fuck me in the ass. Do it. Please..."

Those few simple, begging words are the green light the guy has been waiting for. A cue to fully penetrate her rear, spreading it open with a searing, heavy thrust. It doesn't matter that it's his first time—Yuna loves to fuck. She loves it in any position, anywhere, in any circumstance. Yuna was made to be fucked and tonight is no exception, that is a fact.

So the feeling of his heavy prick ramming her open, and the sweet, familiar burn that comes after sends Yuna into a total blissed-out state. Even though this is what Yuna was begging for, the thrusts are slow and inexperienced—her new living dildo seemingly afraid to hurt his favorite idol.

"Don't be gentle! Fuck me hard, deeper...please, please! Wreck my asshole!"

Those words are enough. They spur the young man into action, and instead of taking it nice and slow, Yuna feels her whole ass shuddering at the rapid pace her lover is now setting. It hurt. Oh God did it fucking hurt.

The kind of pain that leaves her feeling filled with the greatest pleasure. The kind of pain that reminds her that she's alive—not some brainless idol robot with an image to protect. Yuna is a woman with sexual needs and she's not afraid to admit them.

"Faster, don't stop. More, oh God yes!!" Yuna is spouting out all the right things and it's certainly having an effect. "Fuck me!" Her hands grope her perky ass cheeks, trying their hardest to keep them spread open for the fuckfest raging on in the depths of her backdoor.

Her insides felt great to her new partner, especially as he gets more adventurous and drives her over the edge of euphoria with a thrust here, a squeeze there. His hands are gripping her hips, driving his rock hard length further into her cavern.

It must have been such a fucking miserable sight. The third guy in the room ignored and forgotten, sporting a massive erection whilst sitting on the edge of a King sized bed. Yuna didn't even notice it, nor did the guy currently drilling her ass. But she definitely notices it when he lifts her head and presses his tip against her slightly parted lips. The action catches her off guard, almost. It's just a quick glance and a lust filled smirk, but the quick understanding between them has her open her mouth to swallow the intruding piece of flesh.

"You want me to suck your cock while I'm getting fucked in the ass?! What a joke!"

The man looks dejected. That is until Yuna licks her lips and flashes a coy smile. She shakes her head, waves of dark hair falling around her cheeks and onto her back.

"I'm not gonna suck it. But you can fuck my face. Spit roast me. Make me choke me on your cock, choke me as his big, hard dick fills my little asshole."

Yuna opens her mouth, her tongue laid flat and waiting to be invaded. There's an overwhelming desire to be filled from both ends, a carnal hunger. If that's what it takes for her to receive this much pleasure, then so be it. She just wants her holes stuffed, fucked hard until they're so worn, so well used that her mind blanks into total ecstasy.

Yuna sucks and moans and mewls as he's driving his cock down her throat. Any cries of pleasure from being torn apart from behind gets muffled and lost under the garbled and sloppy sounds of the face-fucking.

She takes his cock hungrily into her mouth, bobbing back and forth, not even worrying about the gagging sensations or the burning in her throat, or the spit dripping from her mouth, nor even her eyes beginning to water.

The taste, the scent—the full sensory overload from receiving both a full frontal assault on her gag reflex and a rump fuck all at once is driving her crazy. Her clit is swollen and sensitive, and everytime she shakes her ass to guide his cock deep inside, her clit brushes against the silk-soft sheets and tenses something tight and coils deep within her core.

It builds, tighter, hotter—and the wetness trickling out of her needy, untouched cunt only aids the thrusts from his eager tool.

Her whole body shakes and trembles. A total body orgasm as she's used and abused by two strangers, faceless tools for her sexual pleasure. They take her, use her, violate and violate, spanking and penetrating wherever they pleased.

And through it all she takes it with grace, glee, and happiness. The pain mixed in with the pleasure was intense. Overwhelming. Every time another palm cracks against her reddening cheeks, every time that she's choked and pounded harder, deeper, it leaves her begging for more. Every thrust from either end sends another surge of the hottest, fiercest tingling through her veins. Yuna's completely submerged into the moment, so lost within it. A cocktail of sheer masochism and perverted need to be nothing but an object for her boys' enjoyment.

Then it happens, with another hard thrust into her slutty backdoor, everything snaps—and Yuna screams into a prolonged, euphoric moan. She cums, and she cums hard. Her second one in such a short space of time. It's so intense—so overwhelming.

It takes a whole minute before the world starts to spin again, the rush and adrenaline is almost too much, the double penetration pushing the boundaries and making Yuna realize how she could die right here, right now, and still not care. She almost forgets she's an idol for a moment, the label seeming so alien and irrelevant as the rest of her facade disintegrates along with her mind and body, dissolving under a sea of pleasure. Slowly fading as her partner finally bursts with an eruption of hot, thick, cum, coating her insides, filling her ass until it can hold no more and starts leaking out onto her skin and the plushy fabric of the covers.

The constant moans of joy must have been too much for the man occupying her throat. Cuz shortly after her ass is stuffed full, so is her mouth, spurt after spurt, sending Yuna straight into an orgasmic daze.

It's incredible—such a heavenly, amazing, thrilling and powerful feeling of a double load pumped into both of her holes.

She swaps from feeling like an object, a fuck toy, something to be used and abused, to just Yuna. Yuna who craves pleasure, needs love, and wants a feeling of validation that she's doing her very best to fill up with constant sexual trysts and promiscuous nights. It doesn't work though, because she can never truly be satisfied. No man, no orgy, no gangbang has ever been enough, never even been close enough. But when it's all over, these times, these moments are what Yuna lives and breathes for.

There's four bodies on the bed, laid out and completely wrecked—Yuna, the man with the enormous cock that spread her anal walls, the man that got the handjob of a lifetime from none other than Yuna herself, and the forgotten dude who eventually got to fuck her throat. Yuna can barely see or talk after being ravaged, but even still she's smiling like the cat that got the cream—because in essence, she had three extra large creamy loads.

It's not enough, no amount of cock could ever satisfy Yuna, but this is good enough for tonight. Tomorrow brings another night. Another night to find a nice gentleman to stuff her pussy that was left unfulfilled, left on the verge, twitching and ready to burst. But tomorrow is a worry for the future—now is the time for rest and relaxation, for recovery.

[hellyeahsickaf]

The way addicts and chronically ill people are dehumanized is so exhausting

The normalization of this shit in medical and casual settings is genuinely mind boggling. Addicts and disabled people go through so much bullshit. I've dealt with many fucked up doctors when I just needed help

I had a kidney infection, some months back. This is always extremely medically urgent, and I was likely only hours from sepsis. I went to the hospital reporting my pain to be a 9/10. 9 because my 10 was gallstones. I experienced severe malpractice at the hospital and the doctor reported exams that never occured and false information while making me wait with nothing more than tylenol to hold me over (didn't touch the pain) and bring my fever down but that's a whole other story

They did however, deny me the pain medication I needed until it was time to go home. I'm deathly allergic to NSAIDS, but that's something an addict might say so they witheld pain relief because they'd rather me suffer just in case I'm a different kind of sick. An entire night, maybe 6 hours in the ER and they couldn't give me anything, not a small dose of morphine or one norco even a few hours prior to take the edge off of the pain while I was curled up shaking and crying. Just in case I was an addict looking for my fix, and my suffering was just withdrawals and good acting. In that case maybe I deserved it and should be denied my humanity. God forbid in that case I'm so desperate to alleviate unbearable withdrawals that I spend all night in the ER crying. Not the first time I've experienced red tape just to get relief from excruciating pain

But whatever. As per protocol I was asked to follow up with my pcp. So a few days later I called to set an appointment, but I'd also run out of norco and desperate to relieve the pain I asked if I could be filled even enough for a few days, until the pain was bearable. I had difficulty walking, laying down, and I again, can't take most pain relievers. The receptionist was nice and understanding, actually got me in touch with the doctor because she wanted me to be able to get my refill. Probably heard the pain in my voice even. She believed me

She transfers me over to the doctor and I tell him I'd like a follow up and ask if he could fill my painkillers. I would've acceped a no from him, I just needed my follow up. He asked about my condition, I told him my diagnosis and how much pain I was in

And he laughed.

Got a real hoot out of it, like he had me all figured out. Like he caught me trying to cheat the system. I must be trying to get high or make some money with a few days worth of norco as i'm nearly in tears from the pain even while calling

He tells me through his laughter "I don't prescribe painkillers for 'kidney infections'" saying it with a mocking emphasis on those words, as if I'd said "stubbed toe". Follows with "Yeah haha, bye." and hangs up on me. No follow up like I called for. Needless to say I no longer have a pcp but truly if he thought I was an addict trying to take advantage of him he should have still treated me professionally. Maybe not cackled when I said my pain was excruciating for a start

I just don't understand why the hell so many doctors can be so apathetic to people's suffering. Addicts deserve better and so do disabled people- whether you think they're addicts or not. The assumption that we're lying, trying to trick them and are feigning pain to do it is disgusting, listening to your patients is so important. And if that were the case they could have some sympathy and ask themselves what it would take for someone to go those lengths, take such drastic measures and go through that trouble to obtain those substances.

Addiction is not a moral failing. Many disabled and chronically ill people unfortunately rely on medications that have addictive properties. About 80% of heroin addicts first misused prescription drugs. However only about 4-6% of those addicted to prescription drugs switch to things like heroin. And instead of help or compassion for people who just need help (addicts or not), they just figure we're one in the same and treat us like subhuman degenerates, leeches on society. And I think people need to change how they view addiction. Doctors need to change how they view addiction

[sweetstarcollector]

So phrases like "people with uteruses" or "people who have periods" never really bothered me as much as more overtly dehumanizing phrases like "bleeders" or "birthing bodies", but I saw a post today talking about the abnormal symptoms women experienced after getting tear gassed protesting, that ended with something like "we don't know the full effects of tear gas on people with uteruses". And what struck me about that is that's not really correct, because female people without uteruses (either bc they were born without one or bc they had a hysterectomy) will still experience different symptoms after being tear gassed than male people. Women metabolize substances differently than men, our immune systems are different, our hormonal cycles are different, our skin has different thicknesses, etc. All of those things have potential effects on tear gas reactions, and are not dependent on whether or not we have a uterus. They're dependent on whether or not we're female. So saying "people with uteruses" when what is meant is "female people" is not really accurate. And I realized that a lot of times when people use those kinds of phrases, they aren't being accurate.

For example, I'm sure we've all seen people say things about how the repeal of Roe v Wade will harm people with uteruses/people who can get pregnant/etc. And while yes, it definitely harms those people, the full truth is that abortion bans harm *female* people, *regardless of if they can get pregnant or have a uterus.* Because female people who don't have uteruses can still get pregnant, and in those rare cases will 100% of the time need an abortion. Female people who deal with infertility and can't carry a fetus to term can still be jailed for miscarrying. Female people who are completely sterile (for whatever reason) can still be denied medications/medical treatment on the grounds that the treatment could theoretically harm a fetus. Female people who may currently have no uterus/no longer be able to get pregnant but who have had an abortion in the past will face increased stigma.

Here's another example:

It seems pretty straightforward- menstruation stigma is experienced by people who menstruate. But again, that's only half true. Period stigma is experienced by all female people, regardless of if they menstruate. Think about the fact that we are told female people should not hold political leadership because "what if a female president has PMS and starts a war", despite the fact that almost all female presidential candidates are old enough that they would have experienced menopause. Female people have their feelings dismissed because "it must be that time of the month", regardless of if they're too young to menstruate or too old or if they have a condition causing amenorrhea. Female children grow up seeing periods- a natural function of their bodies- portrayed as disgusting, dirty and gross, as making them unclean, as something to dread and fear. This affects them before they experience menarche, this affects them even if they never experience menarche. It affects all female people.

I could come up with more examples, but you get the idea. Reducing female people to singular body parts and organs inherently denies the reality of femaleness. All parts of us (both biological and social) interact with all other parts of us to form an experience that can't be understood by chopping us up and putting our individual functions under the microscope. In order to get an accurate picture you need to look at the whole (female) human.

[mariacrow]

How would tfp cons react to their human female s/o got captured by Airachnid?

Sorry for typos or any kind of mistakes 😭 I lose my darn concentration while writing this long

Hope you like it! 💜

STICKY SITUATION

✦ TFP Decepticons x reader ✦

2nd person

female reader

AU where the reader has joined the Decepticons and mostly works in the lab or helps with repairing

reader is captured by Airachnid mostly because of her envy

kidnapping, possessiveness, threats, heated arguments/fight (physical)

injuries, blood, rescue, comfort

MEGATRON

Airachnid would hunt you down, wrap you in that sticky web-like substance of hers and bring you to lord Megatron with an excuse that you sabotaged a project and set the whole lab on fire while in fact it was her doing

Accusing you of unloyalty while standing before Megatron's feet, you'd scream and beg him to listen to you, claiming Airachnid is lying

Airachnid: SILENCE, YOU TRAITOROUS RODENT!

She would shout as she'd seal your mouth with the sticky substance

Your lord would observe, doubting you'd do anything like that. As he'd look into your pleading, innocent, tormented eyes, his spark would ache. Not that he expressed it. He'd rather perish than express his vulnerability for you

Then he'd look into Airachnid's eyes full of hope that he’d tear you into tiny pieces of young flesh as he’d get struck by her tiny, devilish grin

Airachnid: my lord. Your wish is my command. I can inflict indescribable pain on her if you let me. She deserves it.

Megatron: no. She does not.

Would be all he'd say before he'd walk to you and free you. You'd start desperately trying to explain yourself but he'd nonchalantly interrupt you:

Megatron: accidents happen. You shall proceed. Shockwave awaits your assistance back in the lab.

He'd give an order and wait for you to leave. Then he'd walk back to Airachnid who'd be in pure shock

Megatron: if you want to terminate her, lying to your leader would be the unwisest way to do it.

Airachnid: my liege-

Megatron: SILENCE! Do such thing again and you shall be the one torn to pieces by my own bare hands. DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?

Airachnid: yes, my liege... *as she'd reluctantly bow*

Megatron: and stay away from her. She is far more useful than you are, Airachnid.

Naughty you would stay close to the door and listen. You'd giggle to yourself as you'd hear your master play favorites

Airachnid is not oblivious though. She noticed he cares for you which she'll use against him. She would already start making new plans on how to get rid of you, lord Megatron's pet.

💜

STARSCREAM

He’d be in shock when he’d get a report from the vehicons that you’ve been attacked by Airachnid

He’d order his soldiers to show him where you are as he’d call for backup

When he’d find you wrapped in a cocoon upside down in a storage room, being threatened by Airachnid, he’d order her to stay down as he’d aim his rockets at her

Airachnid: oh please, Starscream. Like a couple of your cloned servants could stop me.

Starscream: you fool! Free her this instant or perish.

Airachnid: so it is true~ commander Starscream has a new pet human~

Starscream: I do not care for… a human! I am simply fulfilling my duty! We need her for the project!

Airachnid would hiss and threaten to slice your throat

Airachnid: and why would that stop me from getting rid of this infestation!

Starscream: Megatron will have your head! And so will I.

An evil smirk would grow on Screamer’s face plate as they’d charged their weapons at her. She’d reluctantly and angrily release you, making you painfully drop on the floor and yelp

Airacnid: until next time, rodent.

She’d say as she’d crawl her way out of the storage room, disappointed that her plan of getting rid of you had failed

Starscream would slice the cocoon open and free you as he’d emotionlessly tell you to get up.

You’d thank him as he’d walk you out and say:

Starscream: not a word to anyone about this, got it?

Totally into you but his dignity and ego can’t allow him to admit he fell in love with one from the species he hates the most

💜

KNOCKOUT

Knockout: YOU WHAT!?

Airachnid: relax, Knockout~ No one will even notice she’s gone~ and we both know everyone dislikes her-

Knockout: I DON’T- I mean- WE DON’T! Lord Megatron needs her to complete this project! She became one of the key members of the lab, I-

Airachnid: indeed. Indeed she did. She’s taking your position. Soon, lord Megatron will replace you with her.

Her cunning aft would try to manipulate him

Knockout: the only one who can be replaced on this ship is you! You’re afraid of her. Now tell me where she is before I cut you into pieces!

He’d say as he’d get his saw out and aggressively rev it at her to which she wouldn’t even flinch, bluffing

Airachnid: calm down, doctor, it isn’t a big deal. Just a little game I like playing with her. And my my~ so it is true~ doctor does have his favorite assistant after all~

Knockout would groan and go look for your. He’d turn the whole ship upside down until he’d find you somewhere well hidden with tied limbs

He’s dramatically scream and free you carefully as he’d baby talk to you

Knockout: look what that wretched femme did to you! Nt nt nt… Don’t worry, little one, I won’t let that creepy spider lady get near you ever again, no no~ Doctor’s promise~

Y/N: don’t say that ever again-

Knockout: what I thought it’s cute-

As he’d carry you back to the lab and shower you with kisses

💜

BREAKDOWN

She knows how much he cares for you and how easily distracted he gets which she’d cunningly use against him in battle

She’d capture you and make you hang upside down a thick tree branch the moment he’d attack her

Airachnid: are you sure you want to play this game again, Breakdown? Because we have a new contestant~

Breakdown would freeze as he’d see you desperately trying to scream with your mouth sealed

Airachnid: I think she wants to say hello to her precious boyfriend~

She’d say as she’d free your mouth and let you scream for Breakdown. But instead you’d encourage him:

Y/N: BEAT HER ASS, BREAKDOWN!!!

To which he’d frown and power up, get his hammer out and roar like an animal as he’d charge at her

You’d watch the epic boss battle and keep encouraging him until all of your blood would flow down to your head and make you feel unwell

Airachnid: hurry up, boyfriend~ You chose a very delicate being for your lover~ She will die if you don’t get her down in time~

Breakdown: YOU TALK TOO MUCH!

She tried distracting him more but instead she only made his anger grow. His helm boiled as he kept mercilessly hammering her

The moment he knocked her out and yeeted her somewhere, he rushed to get you down. He panicked a little but managed to rescue you on time

Breakdown: you’re the best life coach even when you’re dying~

He had to pull a cheesy joke

💜

DREADWING

She’d pull the same trick on him like on Breakdown

She’d use you as his biggest weakness - fear of losing his closest ones just like he lost his brother…

Both of you would have your limbs tied as she’d make you face each other

Airachnid: now that we have the whole scene set~

Dreadwing: Airachnid, do not be a fool. You are playing with fire. Release her this instant!

Airachnid: or what!?

She’d say as she’d give you a big, deep scratch across the back and make you yelp

Dreadwing: NO!

Airachnid: watch her suffer.

In a blink of an eye she’d stab your torso by the side with one of her eight unsettlingly long legs and make you bleed badly

Dreadwing would scream as he’d desperately try to free himself. Filled with fury, he’d manage to rip the sticky substance that was tied around his wrists

Dreadwing: YOU WILL NOT TAKE THE ONLY THING THAT I CARE FOR IN MY LIFE!

He’d jump her and obliterate her, making her run away with deadly wounds

As he’d kneel next to your wounded body, he’d free you and gently pick you up and request an immediate ground bridge.

He’d watch your fragile, almost lifeless body curling in his servos…

Dreadwing: do not fear, my love. I shall take care of you. You will not leave this world. Not while I stand…

💜

SOUNDWAVE

She thought she could just snatch you from the lab while you were alone and get rid of you that easily

She forgot Soundwave, that has developed strong feelings for you, is the eyes and ears of the ship

He’d cut her off in one of the hallways and have a stare down

You’d scream for help

Airachnid: silence! And stand down, Soundwave. Her playtime with big robots has officially come to an end.

He’d launch his tentacles at her and try to zap her which she’d avoid while running towards him

He would maneuver wisely and swiftly while trying to snatch you from her servos

You’d get slightly injured due to their “doll snatching” game

The moment he’d managed to get his servos on you, he’d create a ground bridge right underneath her

As she was about to fall into it, he’d grab one of her creepy legs and speak:

Soundwave: Soundwave superior. Airachnid inferior.

Before he’d let her fall into the portal and teleport somewhere, precisely above the ocean

Y/N: you… you can speak?

To which he’d just look at you and put his index finger across the lower part of his face plate, gesturing this shall stay a secret

💜

SHOCKWAVE

Shockwave: I find your behavior… illogical.

He’d say in his usual monotone voice, trying to calm the situation down as he’d catch her wanting to preform torturing experiments on you in the lab

Airachnid: don’t be naive, Shockwave~ You and I both know she’s nothing but an infestation on this ship!

Shockwave: that statement is illogical as well, Airachnid. She is my assistant.

Airachnid: oh curse your assistant!

Y/N: Shockwave! Please!

The moment he’d hear his secret lover plead, he’d charge his blaster at her

Shockwave: do not test me, Airachnid. You clearly are not aware of my abilities.

He’d say as he’d start slowly approaching the berth she held you captive on

Airachnid: oh no, dearest Shockwave. Clearly it is you who isn’t aware of our common enemies!

And there comes another epic boss fight. To your surprise it was quite short

Shockwave broke two of her spider legs with ease as he’d throw her around the lab

He did completely or mildly damage some of his equipment but at that point he couldn’t care less. All he cared about is your well being

Shockwave: take advantage of this situation and leave with dignity before I call reinforcements and inform Megatron of your disgraceful act.

Sometimes words can hurt more than actions. She hissed at him and crawled out of the lab

He released you and earned heartwarming gratitude from you

Shockwave: I have always found her way of perception… illogical.

Dividers belong to @kiwicidios , @firefly-graphics and @kimjiho1 💜

[queenof-curses]

The Birth of a Queen

Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ryomen Sukuna is lonely and needs a Queen. Can't find one? Just make one!

Tags: Minors DNI! Explicit, Soft Dom Sukuna, She/her pronouns, fluff and smut, mostly smut though...

wc: 2.8k

Masterlist | More Jujutsu Kaisen

Read part II here!

A/N: this was actually the first fic I've ever written- reposted from Ao3. Enjoy!

--

Floating. That’s what it felt like. Floating in a pool, with your mind drifting in and out of blissful sleep. Relaxation washed over your body; you didn’t want to wake up, didn’t know if you could.

Who am I? You thought. 

Where am I? 

Suddenly, your eyes open and take in your surroundings. Darkness engulfs you. It’s colder, and you break out in goosebumps. With your eyes finally adjusting you make out the room you’re in. Sitting up, you quickly realize you’re not floating in a pool. Well, it is a pool, but not necessarily water. The dark, red liquid is not cold nor warm, but is in fact quite a comfortable temperature. You skim the substance with your hand, grazing its surface. It has no smell, but the consistency and color is similar to that of blood. Chills run through your body. 

Realizing that you’re sitting on top of this pool, it’s deep enough to stick your hand through, but yet you aren’t falling through its surface. Some sort of curse technique? 

Strange, you think to yourself. Where am I? 

“So it did work,” booms a deep, strong voice. Echoing through the room. 

Startled, you stand and make out the rest of the room that surrounds you. About 20 feet ahead sits a giant structure. A throne sits high up above you, gilded in dark obsidian and black as night. A figure sits upon the imperial style chair, a man maybe? Well, he sure seems human at first glance. You continue to observe his features. Pink hair, you notice, followed by chiseled features, a strong nose and chin with a lean body peaking out from a cream colored robe. Not only that, but you see black markings similar to tattoos adorn his body. On his face, hands, and you see even more on the small exposed part of his chest. With your eyes trailing over his features, you were too distracted to realize he was doing the same exact process with you. Taking you in fully, he hums appreciatively. 

“Come closer, let me take a good look at you.” He says, beckoning you in with two fingers. 

You stand on shaky legs. Looking down you realize you are wearing a dress similar in color to his robe, except your dress has no sleeves and wraps you tight. Gasping you look down at yourself. Markings have appeared all over your body. Markings that reflect the man almost identically. Looking up at him with wide eyes and confusion, he calls you closer.

“Please, come closer. I would never hurt something as precious as you.” 

Making your way slowly towards him you take a moment to reflect what you are currently feeling. Although you think you should feel threatened, scared, or even timid around this man, you’re not. A level of trust and something akin to warmness washes over your body. As you approach the throne he extends his arm, holding a tattooed hand out towards you. He’s so much larger than you up close, and you admire his features as you place your tiny hand in his. Locking eyes, your breath hitches in anticipation. 

Who is this man? What does he want with you? And most importantly, why are we so similar? 

“You are made for me.” He answers, as if reading your mind. “My other half. My curse partner. My Queen.” Taking your hand, he places a soft kiss on top. You gasp as goosebumps make their way up the arm he holds. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, finally speaking. With a voice as sweet as honey, he almost groans out loud. With a pained expression, he releases your hand. 

“Let me explain your existence, my Queen.” Snapping his fingers, the ground begins to shake. He snakes his arm around your waist, holding you to him and keeping your balance. Looking around you notice things begin to shift. The dias the single throne sits upon extends in width. New flooring is built upon the end of old flooring. The dark red liquid begins to travel towards you both from down below. Eyes wide, you stare in awe as the fluid begins to form something in the space next to the original throne. You watch as the red liquid hardens into the same black obsidian that makes the throne the man sits on holding you. It only takes seconds, but the finished product is another chair right next to the man’s. Although identical in detail and look, it is slightly smaller to fit you comfortably. “Sit down and I will tell you all.” He says, motioning towards the chair. You take a seat, and he grabs both of your hands, facing each other. Looking into your eyes, he explains.

His name is Ryomen Sukuna. He tells you of his life, the man he once was. How he craved power, devotion, and how he was killed by other sorcerers. Once turned into a curse spirit, his power truly grew into something that could not be killed again. We were inside his domain and here, he can create, kill, and destroy anything he pleases. Which led his story to your existence. Lonely, he searched for a way to make a perfect partner. Someone that would understand his existence and power. That would want the same things he did. What other way to do that than by making you from a piece of himself? You were destined to be his, as he was destined for you. 

“Although your body is whole and complete, your power is not,” he explains. 

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“I was able to create your physical body quite easily. But for your power, there is another step. You can’t leave this domain until you have this power.” He releases one of your hands, taking the other and guiding you from your throne to his. Sitting you down in his lap, he goes on. “We must completely join for you to receive my power. Once that is done, you will be my true equal. My partner for eternity.” 

Wrapping his arm around your waist, you lock eyes with him and nod. “Yes, I want this.” And you did. You wanted the power, the glory; to be this curse’s life partner. For that is why you were made, isn’t it? You exist for each other. That’s why you felt no fear around him, even after listening to stories of his power and being. You completed one another. “Tell me what I must do,” you tell Sukuna, locking your arms around his strong neck. He smiles then. A smile so sharp and sinister, yet so magical the elated feelings reach his red eyes. 

“Come,” he says, leading you by the hand off the throne and behind the dias. Down a dark hall only lit by red flames, he leads you towards a large bed chamber. Once inside, he removes his robe completely. Since he faces the large black bed in the middle of the chamber, you admire his chiseled back and firm backside. Turning around, your eyes widen as you take in his form. Large, strong muscles with broad features face you. Shifting your eyes downward, his semi-erect twitches as you notice its size. “I will say, this is not my true form, but the form of my human host,” he interrupts your erotic thoughts. 

“It’s not?” You question. 

“No, but for the purpose of joining, I will remain in this form so as to not damage your body. That is, until you absorb some of my power,” he says grinning mischievously. “Come!” he booms, echoing through the room and guides you to the bed. 

You stand in front of the large structure, with the backs of your knees touching the soft black silk. Not wasting anymore time Sukuna takes your head in both of his hands and does what you’ve wanted to do since he kissed your hand back in the throne room: locked his lips with yours. You gasp into his mouth, welcoming his large tongue inside, battling it with your own. Twisting together, you shut your eyes and melt into him. A fire ignites inside your body, heat reaching your most sensitive place. With his patience running thin, Sukuna strips the dress from your body, revealing yourself to him. Taking a step back, he admires your body. “Y/N… I need to taste you.” he states. With eyes running wild, he pushes you down onto the bed and spreads your legs. 

Completely opening yourself to him, you whisper “Please… I need it.” And you did. You were wet for him. If you had panties on, they would be soaked through. He admired your wet cunt, glistening in the soft light provided by the lanterns in the room. 

“Watch me taste me you,” Sukuna says, locking eyes with your own. On his knees between your legs, he takes his hands and places them on your thighs. Spreading your knees far apart, he lays on his stomach and opens you to him. Finally dipping his head down, he licks a long stripe from bottom to top, earning a sigh from you. “As sweet as honey,” he whispers to himself as he leans back in. He eats you with reckless abandon. Like a starved man, he laps your juices as your sighs and gasps quickly turn into moans. Slipping a finger, then two inside of you he fingers your cunt slowly. Stretching you out and preparing you for something much bigger, his pace increasing as you feel yourself begin to build up an intense desire. Not taking anymore time, he latches his mouth onto your sensitive clit and circles it with his tongue. While he continues finger fucking you, your pleasure builds. Sukuna reaches up and pinches one of your peaked nipples, sending you over the edge. “Come for me, princess, finish on my face.” You scream his name, coming all over his mouth, making a mess and he loves it. He continues giving you kitten licks until you’ve somewhat come down from your high. 

Finally opening your eyes and sitting up, you watch him get to his knees and wipe his mouth with his arm. You then come face to face with his massive cock. You reach out to take it in your tiny hand by comparison, stroking it from the base to tip. Thick veins align the sides of his erection, followed by a blush pink top that leaked precum from its tip. It made your mouth water. Wanting to put it in your mouth, you finally give the tip a couple licks earning a soft groan from him. Needing more, you lean in to put it in your mouth. “If you do that, I’ll cum. And Daddy can’t wait,” he growls out.

With that, he flips you over on all fours. With your head down, your face feels the cool satin on your cheeks. Ass perched in the air, Sukuna admires his Queen. The one made for him. The one that will be his partner in power and life. The thought makes his erection pulse with need. He takes his cock and runs it up and down your slit, collecting your juices and coating himself with it. Taking your hips in his hands, he begins to enter you from behind. Stretching your hole over his large cock, he slowly pushes forward. You moan, relishing the stretch Sukuna gives you. He tries to contain himself, however once he was halfway in, he slams his hips into your soft backside and enters you down to the hilt. Screaming in both pain and pleasure you shifted forward. He must be over 10 inches long. The girth has you stretched wide open for him and you savor the feeling. 

“I can’t go slow for you, but I know you wouldn’t want that either way.” Sukuna says, pulling out and slamming back inside you. 

“No, I wouldn’t,” You respond. “Please, just fuck me.” 

You can sense the sinister smile he gives you. At that, his pace quickens. Fucking you from behind he doesn’t stop, wanting to hear you scream from him. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes in the room alongside your moans and his grunts. Squeezing your ass cheek with one hand, he takes the other and reaches down to circle your clit. You moan loudly.

“Come for me again. I want to hear you scream.” He says, pulling you up towards his chest. Your back meets his front as you listen to the bed squeak under both of you. Moving his hand from your hip he stops to palm your breast before making his way to your hair, gripping it and yanking your head to the side. “I said come for me princess,” he growls into your ear, hot breath sending wonderful shivers down your body. It sends you over the edge.

You scream, orgasm ripped from your body as he continues to fuck into you, his fingers on your clit have you shaking from release. Not wasting any time, Sukuna flips you onto your back and puts your knees up by your head, practically folding you in half.  Admiring you in the mating press, he slides his thick cock back inside you, fucking you through the end of your orgasm and stretching your release for as long as possible. Holding your knees back he slams back into your hole, using your body to chase his own release. 

“You take me so well, Y/N” he grunts. “Such a good girl, are you ready for my seed?” 

“Yes, give it to me, give it to me!” you scream in answer. 

“Then take it, take your power my Queen.” Locking eyes with yours, his hips slam into yours one last time as he finishes inside you. Filling you up you feel his hot release coat your walls as you milk him for every last drop. Eyes rolling to the back of your head you feel it. The pleasure from your orgasm, the love this curse gives you, and the power being absorbed into your body. Overwhelmed, you black out. 

You wake up covered in the black satin sheets. Looking over you notice Sukuna sitting by your side. As if waiting for you to wake up, he looks down at you with eyes filled with more emotion than you could process. He places his hand in yours and that’s when you feel it. The power. It surges to life from inside you like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You smiled up at him, a more sinister one to match his own. Leaping up you wrap your legs around his waist and kiss him. Running his hands through your hair he takes a handful and pulls your head back to admire you. Already feeling his erection grow, he grins down at you. “Forever begins today, my Queen.” 

Thank you for reading! Every Like & Reblog means the most. To send a request, please use the ask button through this page. <3

[spacedace]

Here have another dc x dp Super Serious Chaos snippet I remembered about lol

As always feel free to take this as a (too long) prompt if anyone is interested 😄

---

Ghosts and Kryptonians, as it turned out, had a bit of overlap when it came to biology.

Not much, admittedly, considering that ghost biology was largely…made up, as best as any of the League’s medical staff could figure and as best as the Yetis could explain. They were usually human shaped - at least those that had been human in life were usually human shaped - but they were made entirely out of ectoplasm, a highly mutable substance that could appear incredibly unpredictable in how it behaved if you weren’t intimately familiar with how it worked. A ghost’s biology, as much as it could be called, depended entirely on the ghost, what they thought their biology should be and how they felt at any given point of time.

Still, there were some things that were more or less standard that were familiar enough. Super strength and speed, heightened senses, flight. Fangs too, though those tend to vary a great deal more in size when it came to ghosts compared to Kryptonians. Most interesting of all though - at least as far as Jon was concerned at the moment - was the fact that like Kryptonians, ghosts could purr.

And they used their purring in much the same way as Kryptonians. Self-soothing, encouraging healing, expressing happiness or - as the case might be in the here and now - bonding.

That’s what Danny had said was the point of this purring when he’d shown up and taken stock of the situation. Elle, out of her mind on some weird strain of supernatural flower thanks to some demon deciding to try and drug her into compliance and marry her - gross, Jon was glad it had been torn to shreds, he was kinda disappointed he didn’t get to help really - was reduced entirely to very basic ghostly instincts. She’d lost human speech, lost understanding of the world around her, and lost grip on who she was. Something that could have been incredibly dangerous - and had been for the dumbass demon that had orchestrated the whole scheme, Elle had eviscerated it with a viciousness that threatened to awaken something in him if he thought about it too much - though thankfully for them Elle had some semblance of recognition of who they were.

Well. Some of them, at least.

She’d very much had not seemed aware of who most of the Justice League members that responded to the situation were and had been just as intent on doing to them what she’d done to the demon. Jon and Damian were for sure going to get a lecture later on it, but them jumping in between their out of control friend and the others had been the right call. They knew how she fought better than anyone, knew how to counter her without hurting her and how to use her own overwhelming strength and power against her if need be.

Besides, they knew Elle.

They trusted her. Even as she lost semblance of her form and started looking more like…well okay Jon couldn’t really say what Elle looked like at the time. Damian called it eldritch and Jon can’t help but agree that it was the right word for it. Looking at her straight on for too long while she’d been in attack mode hurt and his brain sort of just…slid off any attempts to describe just what he was seeing when he looked at her. So eldritch seemed the right fit, even if he felt a bit bad having to describe her as such. Elle hated Lovecraft with a fiery passion, she’d despise knowing that anything associated with him was applied to her.

Jon was getting distracted. The point was, even if Elle was reduced to base ghostly instincts and acting aggressive and trying to eat Green Lantern, Jon and D knew that she’d never hurt them. And for the record they’d been right!

She’d frozen in the air as they dove in front of GL and into her line of sight, furious screeching going quiet and form settling back down into a more familiar - and comprehensible - shape and let loose a series of chirps and trills and whistling notes. And while no one could understand exactly what they meant, Jon and Damian could feel the emotions she put into the sounds. Happiness and relief and safe-safe-safe that made them realize that some of her aggression must have been from thinking that something had happened to them.

The next thing either of them had known they were wrapped up in a whole lot of Elle - body significantly more human-shaped, though still a bit indistinct when it came to her features - as she gave low rumbling purrs. She wouldn’t let anyone else near them - hissing and growling warningly in ways that made ears bleed when his dad and Bruce tried to creep closer, pulling him and D behind her protectively - but she was at least content to not attack anyone so long as no one got too close.

“It should wear off in about a week.” Danny said, butting his head like a cat against Elle’s as he checked on them. Elle recognized her father as she had Jon and Damian and had been fine letting him close, though notable did not try and pull him in on their impromptu cuddle session. “Probably less if we can get her back to her Lair in the Zone. Having outsiders near her Grave after fighting off an enemy is probably making things worse.”

Danny drifted back towards where the League was awkwardly huddled at a safe distance, giving a comforting trill when Elle’s purring stopped and she gave a nervous little chirp. She clung to Jon and Damian a little tighter from where she’d wrapped her wispy tail around them, glowing green eyes locked on the League suspiciously, but she stayed where she was. Jon purred himself, trying to match the low frequency she’d been using earlier to draw her attention back to them and keep her calm. Damian, unable to purr but undeterred by the limitation of human vocal chords, hummed softly as well. Elle gave an adorable little mrrp and pulled them even closer to her, nuzzling beneath each of their chins in turn, purr starting back up again.

“I was under the impression Phantasma wasn’t dead in the…traditional way.” Jon’s dad said, face pinching in concern. “Or that her grave would be near…” He motioned to the dark cave around them, lit only by literal hellfire in shades of red and orange. They were roughly a fifty miles from any kind of civilization, in some mountainous location in Europe. Possibly Finland? Jon hadn’t been paying much attention outside of following Elle’s distress beacon as quickly as possible without the wind speed suffocating Damian in the process.

Danny shook his head. “Oh she’s not. She’s Mirrorborn.” He waved a hand blandly, unaware or ignoring the League’s confusion at the term, “I don’t mean that kind of grave. I mean her Grave, capital ‘G’ and all. It’s like, hmm,” He paused, looking considering before offering, “I guess the closest thing might be like a pack? Like wolves, sorta. She’s in my Grave, since I’m her Reflected.” Danny motioned towards where Elle was now happily purring again, running her very sharp - and disturbingly longer than usual - clawed fingers through his and Damian’s hair. It was soothing, even with the vague notion that he should be worried about getting sliced to bits lazily popping up at the back of Jon’s mind. “But she’s old enough to go out and make a Grave of her own, and she’s claimed those two as part of it.”

“Claimed?” Bruce asked, voice lower than usual and definitely more dangerous. He hadn’t looked away from them the entire time, even when Danny showed up.

The older ghost gave a reassuring smile, “It sounds way more possessive than it is. It just means that her Core recognizes them as people she cares about a lot.” He glanced over towards them again expression going soft and fond. “The claiming is less a mark of ownership and more of like a ‘Back off’ sign for anyone who might try and fuck with them.”

Danny waved a hand in their direction again, “It’s what she’s doing now with all the cuddling. There was danger and she couldn’t find her Grave, so she panicked and lashed out. When they showed up she went into protection mode, it’s why she won’t let you near.” He glanced over to make sure the League understood, at their various nods he continued, “The cuddling is partially letting her know their safe, but it’s also making sure they’re absolutely covered with her ecto-signature so that anything that can sense it thinks twice before trying to go after them.” Danny’s grin went cheeky, “She’s basically giving them the Infinite Realm’s version of Scary Dog privileges. There’s not much in the Zone that’d be willing to fuck with the Grave of someone in our family.”

“Hn.” Bruce said, though Jon could see that some of the sharpness had left the line of his shoulders. “She doesn’t recognize us as members of her Grave?”

Danny shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. She likes you guys a lot - you’d probably be dead right now if she didn’t, even with those two keeping her calm - but there’s a difference from being friends with someone and having them as part of your Grave.”

No one looked terribly reassured.

Possibly due to the implication that Elle could kill them all more than the idea that she’d try while in such an altered state. And probably Jon should be worried about that too, but it wasn’t all that much of a surprise, really. He’d seen Elle beat Damian at Go before. They were usually tied 50/50 these days. If she could do that, there really was no hope for the Justice League - even his Dad, though he probably shouldn’t say that out loud.

Oh well. Point was, Damian absolutely could destroy the entire Justice League - Kryptonians and all - probably without even lifting a finger if he really put his mind to it and Elle was just as brilliant when it came to wily plays and unbeatable strategies and overwhelming force.

Okay so he might, a little bit, be totally in love with the both of them and believe they were the single most impressive and unstoppable people in the universe. That had no baring on his estimation on their abilities to take over the world if they ever decided they wanted to. It did, admittedly, probably skew his thoughts on if they ever would try their hands at world domination, but only a little.

Anyway he was 95% certain he could convince them to knock it off before they actually launched any world domination plans.

99% if he had time to get Ma to make cinnamon rolls before he went to talk them down.

Not the point, really. The point, right now, was that Elle had made him and D part of her Grave. That she cared for them enough that not even being reduced to her most dangerous, aggressive state, almost completely unable to distinguish friend from foe, was enough to keep her from knowing who they were.

(J’onn J’onzz - scanning the emotions and surface thoughts of the three young heroes to make sure no one was in danger or distress - would like to note to the young man that that was also not the point.

He had the distinct feeling, however, that any attempt to bring that up would go entirely over the young Kryptonian’s head.)

“So!” Danny said clapping his hands together decisively as he flashed a wide grin at Jon's dad and Bruce, “Who wants to pack these two some bags while I get them all moved to Ellie’s Lair?”

[minkieater]

tide | khj

pairing. rich!hj x f!reader genre. non idol au, toxic relationship, soulmates warnings. substances, consumption, mental health, sexual content minors dni PLS wc. 5.5k

♫ — the broken one, qm ft. jiung “when you said that you wish the two of us could die together, i just pat your head and say i know.”

the best way you’d ever described your relationship is adjacent to a children’s movie, and for that comparison you feel wrong, but nothing else comes close. when alice fell down that hole and her entire world flipped upside down, changing everything she once thought she knew, it was the epitome of years of your life spent with him. you being alice, hongjoong being… everyone else. the mad hatter, cheshire cat, the red queen, white queen, the jabberwocky, the rabbit, he was everyone, all the time, all at once. your life, the riddles, everything but nothing making sense at the same time. there was nothing else you could possibly compare it to, two emotionally adolescent humans in adult bodies. 

neither of you had ever been angry people by nature. in fact, you had always been deemed quite the opposite. hongjoong, older and successful, a man consumed by his work but always made time for the people around him — he shows up for birthdays, impromptu get togethers, graduations, backyard parties… despite his ever growing workload, he always put in the effort to be there. and not just be present, either. he’s always been observant, even in the beginning, showing up when you least expected it. after the longest, hardest day, with flowers and your favorite food in tow, he’s always been a true partner. 

you’re not much different. the parties hongjoong always shows up to typically had you behind the curtain. planning, decorating, even picking up the tab… you’re the epitome of loyalty. devotion, creativity, passion. you’d bettered him as a person, in his work, in his relationships, in his productivity. you love to help and you love to love, you surround yourself with people who give that back to you tenfold in a heartbeat. 

in the beginning, you thrived. you worked together harmoniously, you were patient with each other, compassionate, so stupidly in love…

“would you marry me?” a starless night, on the rooftop of his ever luxurious loft. his hair is black, a cigarette between his lips, his sweet chocolate eyes the brightest light amongst the dark, empty air. 

you knew you had never answered any question with such a quickness as you did that one. you don’t think you’d even muttered the word no to him in the six months you’ve been together. 

he handed you the cigarette he knew you were craving, a habit you picked up from him and him alone. one habit you didn’t share before you’d met. his stare is intense, the gleam in his eyes is bold, it’s saying a million words yet not one leaves his rose colored lips. words you know, words you’ve said, words he hasn’t returned. but he does, he will, eventually. 

“we’re forever then,” it could be a question but it feels more like a statement, an announcement of sorts, a promise that you could never break. you had no choice in the matter, not that you needed one, not that you could imagine a life without him after so little time of knowing him. 

it made you smile through the burn in the back of your throat, a long exhale leaving your lips, gray smoke following suit. in went your solitude, out came the pact you made with him under the moonlight. like the smoke, it faded into thin air, never to be taken back. 

“we became forever six months ago,” you handed the cigarette back to him, your fingers touching for a just a moment in passing. his smile reached his eyes, creases in his skin that you would run your fingers over in the dim light of his bedroom. every inch of him, burned to memory. 

“we became forever the day you were born, doll. just took until six months ago to find me,” the tobacco was between his lips again, wrapped around the circular stick, always glossy. never chapped, never dry, always swollen and sultry. edible. 

time went on, days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. you initially thought hongjoong didn’t have a bad side, eternally a happy and exemplary lover. to be fair, you didn’t think you had one either. there’s a saying for that, right? you bring out the worst in each other? but they’re traits that are embedded in you. when the stars aligned the day you were born, you were gifted them, wrapped in sparkling wine colored paper and you just didn’t get around to opening them until someone fought fire with fire. 

you’d never yelled at a friend, let alone a lover, in your life. he’d never once been angry enough to remove himself from an entire room, have to excuse himself from the woman across from him because her voice took up too much space, smothered him in his own home. the one thing that kept you two linked, from the bedroom with the door locked to the couch all the way out in the living room, was how fucking obsessed with the other you were. 

it was sick, the heaviest sensation the two of you shared. lust, love, adoration, codependency, everything came right under obsession if you could even rank your feelings. most days, everything just blended together, anyways. from the moment your eyes met, really met for the first time, it was cataclysmic, the soul you knew just by his gaze that you shared. the click that linked the two of you for life. 

the air of the club was humid, wet and murky, too many people in too small of a space. you were at a sponsored event for work, dressed too classy for the place you were at, all the bodies around you covered in way less fabric. you were one track minded when it came to work — always looking upward, fighting to climb endless ranks, you could never rest. never break concentration. 

until the biggest distraction stared at you three people down, stood around the curve of the bar while you waited on your cocktail. he moved with a fluidity similar to water, a wave, an ocean as he waltzed into your space. behind you, he slipped his card down over your shoulder onto your tab before you could even reach for the cash in your purse.  

“nice play,” you glanced over your shoulder, greeted with teeth as white as snow, glistening hues of pink and blue from the dance floor cascading over the impressive structure of his face, “thank you.”

“a pretty drink for a pretty girl,” you glance down at the red cherries sitting in your cocktail, a mixture of yellow and orange sitting in your glass, mimicking a sunrise swirling around the cubes of ice.

a laugh escaped you, “i’d rate that pick up line a 7, i suppose.” 

he answers with a shrug, “anything above a 5 is a win for me. hongjoong,” his hand reaches out to shake yours and you’re taken aback, almost shocked at the gesture of a simple handshake around the bar at a more than busy nightclub. it told you more than it should, coming up on years of business under your belt, it seemed more like a proposition than an introduction. 

in that moment you saw him, you saw through him, you saw deep down inside and you couldn’t crawl your way out if you scratched and clawed your nails down to stubs. he was like you, apart of your world, higher up, even. he came from class, he came from money, he came from importance. he’s handsome, he’s gorgeous, and jesus christ he’s going to ruin your fucking life if you let him. you’d let him do anything.

your work event was long forgotten the second the two of you made eye contact, your attendance was the only thing mandatory, anyhow. a night of freedom, letting go of subjugation from your company as you spent ages with your back pressed to his front, bodies moving as one to the beat of whatever song played through the speakers. one melody after another, you don’t know how many songs have passed before you've faced him, hands around his neck, one of his legs between yours.

“you’re beautiful,” he says, noses nearly touching, wanting to curse the millimeter standing between himself and the rest of his life. a moment of pressure from you stood over his knee and he decided he’d never needed something so bad, his stomach growling with a hunger he was saving for a single taste of you. 

“yeah?” your smile turned mischievous, a dangerous game you were playing, he’d strip you down in front of the entire club, fuck you in front of every man in the building. that’s if he could live with himself letting anyone besides him see you like that, which he couldn’t, of course. your outfit left too much to the imagination, tight dress pants and a white top that clung to every inch of you. he needed to know what was underneath. he could imagine, picture you beneath the cotton, he could almost feel the soft plush of your thighs on his fingertips. 

“prove it,” was all you said and it sold him of the only thing he had left. his pride, the thing he savored, he’d usually let anyone else take the reins with him, want him first, so he could drop them without a second thought. you wanted me, i never wanted you. always the predator, never the prey, even under the gaze of his evermore. 

anyone that came before you, the several exes, plethora of playthings, he’d easily forget them, leave them all behind for a night with you. he wouldn’t settle for just a night with you, he won’t take anything less than eternity. your thin, tiny square lenses sitting low on your nose, your hair messily wrapped up on top of your head, lipstick still perfectly applied on your lips, the way you were so meticulously put together… it was a primal urge, the need to ruin it, ruin you, keep you forever, just for himself. 

you weren’t doing far off, core aching for a kiss, a touch, anything to take the edge off. something about sharing a soul meant you could see his and it stood tall and red and rippled in the wind and screamed at you to let him make the first move. he needed to lay his cards on the table, make his blood stained soul turn white, let him give himself to you before you gave yourself to him. you listened, as much as it wounded you, his glossy lips begging you to close the distance, to taste him, to hurry up and move on with eternity because time waits for no one. 

you could see his internal battle, there were several going on in the mere moment that lasted for hours. the battle of your beings, still separated not yet merged, yet still transparent for the other to see. the battle of him with himself, his pride, his masculinity, this routine he’s been performing for the past six years. your battle with him, begging him to give into you, to show you what he’s made of, to show you what color he bleeds. your battle with yourself, your self control to listen to whatever is telling you to let him give in first. you knew he would, he knew he would, it was a waiting game. 

once he said fuck it and he raised his white flag, his soul changed color as his lips tasted yours. one kiss in the middle of a crowded dance floor, overflowed enough that other people’s sweat was mixing with your own, music pumping through your veins, the world had shifted. tectonic plates couldn’t compare, couldn’t move you the way hongjoong did in that very moment. 

this combining, this merging, this tasting of his soul, the atoms that make up his very being, you consumed it all entirely. the good, the bad, the complicated, the opulent, the rough, the agonizing, you could feel all of it in him. you needed more. 

it wasn’t always like that, wasn’t always intoxicating, blinding, all consuming. the obsession was beautiful, addicting, similar to the box of tobacco you now kept in your back pocket. it translated to tenderness, intimacy, warmth, it was one of a kind. one that sparked jealousy from others, one that closed its doors on anyone who dared to peer inside. it was personal, only to be enjoyed by the two of you, never shared. no one on this fucking earth could understand you the way hongjoong could, no one could read your mind, fix what needed to be fixed before it was even broken in the first place. he was a lifeline, a savior, a backbone for you. and you were all the same to him. 

he’d never thought he could love anything the way he loves you. his music, his art, his life, he’d throw everything away if that meant one more second spent with you. you were water to him the way he was air to you, the sun to him the way he was the moon to you. in every single lifetime you know hongjoong has been your missing link, two fucked up pieces that finally finished the puzzle. when put together, everything made sense. you were complete. 

“mm, maybe a half an hour longer?” his smile is sheepish, almost embarrassed to say the same answer he’d given you thirty minutes prior. 

a knowing smile grows on your face, how could you be mad at him? your hard working boyfriend, forever sitting behind a screen, making deadlines meet. when he said half an hour, he meant two hours. when he said twenty minutes, he meant an hour. his language is exclusive to only him, it takes someone who really knows him, really understands him for his dialect to be construed.  

you went to bed, surrounded by white walls with monochromatic paintings that didn’t have any real meaning. the room was big, too big to be comforting. too empty to be lived in, especially without him beside you. it’s how the whole loft felt: picturesque, a movie set, a bed, bathroom and kitchen without being a home. you could have a photoshoot here anytime with the natural light pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows, but could you raise a family? could you settle here, in this city?

you kept your eyes closed, searching for sleep that didn’t want to be found. pulling the comforter over you, you nuzzled in, cocooned yourself into the mongolian cashmere that threatened you with its heat. 

“going to sleep this early? that’s no fun,” you heard his voice before the patter of his familiar footsteps, a rhythm you’d memorized months ago. he climbs into the california king, searching for you, finding you, kissing you. “what’s got you wrapped up like this? missed me?” 

you nodded, bottom lip jutting out, feeling so small even with him here, this huge bed engulfing you. you needed his heat, his touch, his skin on yours, you wanted comfort. 

“my girl,” he cooed, fingers running through your hair, messily sprawled across the silk pillowcase, “i missed you too.” 

kisses that were peppered along your jaw turned heated before you could notice his mood had changed. as his tongue licked up the base of your neck you whined, pressing yourself into him, mindlessly begging for more. 

“needy girl,” he teased as he pulled the blankets off of you, mongolian cashmere be damned. you wore one of his shirts, oversized enough to be a dress. he pushed it up past your stomach, pleasantly surprised with the lack of anything underneath. 

“ah, my needy girl is clever, hm? planned this, did you?” his smirk stretched across his face, eyes deepening to the richest, darkest brown, reflecting the ecuadorian chocolates he bought you months ago, a gift on a random thursday. 

“and what if i did?” you’d been pleading for him to come to bed for ages, begging him to fill more space in this empty room. you’d been prepared to try anything, stopped only by his mask of concentration. 

“then you’re in luck,” before you knew it he’d already slipped inside you, your back arching against the texture of the percale sheets beneath you. he’d wrecked you, as he did every time, swapping spit and cum and secrets, exposing skin and feelings and truths. 

every time the sex was this sweet, this melodious, he’d tell you exactly how he felt about you. he’d make you feel it. 

“fuck, i fucking love you,” he was buried to the hilt, holding your face between two cold hands, “could die right here inside you a happy man.” 

you couldn’t do anything but moan, clenching around him, your coming answer enough. 

“want me to fill you up?” he’d asked, thrusts turning rougher, more sporadic, the finish line nearing, “yeah? give you my kids? make you a mommy?” 

you locked your ankles behind his back, this wasn’t the first time you’d done this. an iud sat inside you, still working perfectly fine, his proposal wouldn’t come to fruition with you like this. you still nod, whimpers leaving your throat, low babbles of begs for him to fill you. 

he always did, always carried you to the bath after, always washed your hair, your body, maybe filled you up once more if you felt like it. 

“do you want to stay here? in this city?” the bath had run lukewarm at this point, but you didn’t want to separate, didn’t want to spend a moment not pressed against one another. 

“for now, i think so, why?” his hand was traveling up and down your arm that hung outside the tub, your head laid against his chest. 

“when we have kids… i don’t know about raising them here,” your voice was small, unsure of where his mind would go with your sudden revelation. 

“we have a long way to go before then,” he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. you stayed quiet, fingertips inaudibly tapping the side of the tub. 

“this been bothering you?” his other hand moves to grip your jaw, a light touch to twist your head, making you look up at him. 

“i wouldn’t say it’s bothering me, but anything can happen, i was just thinking about it,” even the bathroom is too big, too lifeless to be a home. marble tile, his and hers vanities, a detached, massive shower, a bidet on the toilet. you couldn’t picture smaller you’s running around in here. 

“we’re already playing with fire, i guess,” he leans his head back on the tub, “where do you dream of going? if i could build a house from the ground up for you, where? what would it look like?”

like a scene from the notebook, your heart twisted, bursting at the seams with the unbelievable amount of what you felt for him. so you told him, a rancher, a farm, somewhere quiet and peaceful. a house that felt lived in, one appropriate to raise a family, one that wasn’t perfectly dusted and organized all the time. picture frames littering shelves, toys randomly left across the house, clothes on the floor of the bedroom. you wanted normalcy, you wanted warmth, you wanted a family. 

he wanted nothing more than to give you that. within two weeks he’d been in contact with several realtors, purchasing land on the countryside, finding the perfect plot for you two to raise your little family. he’d pictured you in a pair of boots, a tee shirt, an old, big pair of overalls. your stomach swollen, hair messily wrapped up, walking in the barn, feeding the chickens. his heart warmed, and his dick so quickly rose again, twitching behind your back. 

how a love so beautiful, so unique could get so fucked up, you couldn’t understand, not even three years later. you didn’t want to understand, though, and neither did he. you don’t care, neither of you do, because the only thing that matters is that he is still near you. close to you. breathing your air, touching your skin, whispering the most vile shit into your ear, he is here. you needed him closer, needed him so close that you merged into one. it’s never enough, it’ll never be enough, more of him, always more of him, always more of you. 

he felt the same way. your breath on his skin, your saliva drying on his neck, he wanted more. he wanted it messier, he wanted it sloppier. he wanted it to never end. but the two of you will never end because you’re meant for each other, right? there’s no one else on this planet for him, billions of people and he’s found his other half already. she’s under him, she’s breathing, she’s screaming, she’s beautiful. he’s so lucky. 

which is why it makes sense to no one that they don’t see either of you anymore. usually one of you, here and there, never together. never holding hands, never smiling at each other, never touching the other one’s hair, never fixing the other one a plate. never together, but yet rarely apart. as far as everyone knows, you’re still together, they think? you are, you tell them that you are, hongjoong tells them that you are, but poor yeosang can’t understand why he doesn’t see his friends anymore. he misses their smiles, their laughs, their humor, their parties, their love. you miss it too, sometimes. 

the truth is, your shared codependency turned into some warped fucking version of destruction where neither of you can stand to see other next to someone else. at clubs, at bars, at those backyard parties with your friends, god forbid you get too close to san. you swear to that same god if hongjoong spoke three more words to mina he’d be sleeping on the couch for weeks. everyone noticed, everyone could pick up on it easily. the side eye, outright glares across the room, hongjoong’s hand around your wrist like a pair of handcuffs. you couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed at your friend’s glances, their eyebrows furrowing in confusion, their questions that sat heavy in thin air without ever being spoken. you were too worried about what hongjoong was thinking. how angry he’d be, what it’d be like when you got home, if he’d even say a word to you the rest of the night. hongjoong was already cooking up his testimony, ready to tell you to stop being fucking insane and our friends are just friends, yet the double standard was always there. you’d use the same arguments against each other, have the same rebuttals. it got you nowhere, there was no resolution, there was just his california king and percale sheets. the cashmere blanket that laid over every argument, tucking it away tightly until the next time you unveiled it. 

as much as your love fucked you up, made your brain not fucking work correctly, you couldn’t bear to think of a day where you’d be apart. couldn’t imagine your future not spent in that rancher on the countryside, children and chickens running amok. 

when he told you his job was relocating him to the states, yet another huge city, you couldn’t breathe. for a full minute you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t answer him, you couldn’t function. your lifeline, your savior, your water, your moon, leaving you. 

“i’ll start looking for a place for us,” he said so casually, too casually, scrolling on his phone, not even looking at you. the breath was sucked from your lungs, you wouldn’t be surprised if your face was blue.

“no, i won’t go,” you murmured out, clearly, unlike the stumbling of words in your mind, hot tears in your eyes and strain on your voice. you sat up in the california king, goosebumps raising on your bare body in the too cold bedroom. 

“huh?” he finally tore his eyes from the screen, “what do you mean no?” 

“i won’t fucking go, joong! you’re asking me to pick up my life and move to another country for your stupid job?” anger flushed through your veins, your voice raised, fire in your eyes. you turned to him in the bed, not even bothering to cover yourself with the sheets. 

“my stupid job? my stupid job that pays for this place? pays the bills?” he sat up too quickly, his eyes were wide and oh boy was he angry, you hit a nerve there. 

“i can pay the bills just as easily as you and you know that, hongjoong,” you bark back, tears close to boiling as they stream down your face, “i can’t leave my life. my career, my stability, my future, what the fuck did you think i was going to say? huh? yeah sure! let’s move out of the country! are you out of your goddamn mind?” 

“your future? what the fuck am i then? just a placeholder for now?” he’s laughing with wide eyes and oh fuck it’s maniacal, ring covered fingers tugging at his white blonde roots. “i fucking knew it. you never planned a real future with me then, did you? all that talk about getting married, having kids, all of it just a fucking lie? a sick little joke to keep me with you, paying the rent? funding your little shopping sprees?” 

“fuck you, hongjoong, you fucking know that’s not true,” you’re sobbing now, his words hitting their mark. you stood up and walked out to the living room, pulling the white, soft blanket with you. 

your dream, your future, your life, crumbling around you. hongjoong was air to you, your moon, controlling the tide that pushed and pulled you closer or farther away from one another. 

you’d never been dependent on anyone before him, never needed a moon to your sun, you shone brightly all by yourself at all times. even now, with him, you could easily survive without him. financially, at least. even in this big, lifeless loft you could support yourself, you were just as successful as he was, after all. but emotionally? actually living a life that he wasn’t involved in? you don’t think you’d survive it. 

you could leave here, move with him, restart your life somewhere else. you wanted to do that, but in the countryside, this situation is completely different. this isn’t a choice. this is someone else making a decision and everyone expecting you to follow suit. what about what you needed? what about your job, that you adore? spent years climbing to where you are, you now have an entire team working under you. what about that team? your coworkers? your family, living close by? your friends, oh god your friends, ones you haven’t seen in an embarrassing amount of time… only months past twenty six, you could technically restart if you needed to. you just don’t want to. you needed hongjoong to not want to, either. 

a moment barely passed before he’s beside you on the couch, tears pouring down your cheeks, face buried in the crook of his neck. he’s rubbing your back, kissing your head, whispering sweet nothings that’d always calm you when you broke down like this. he knows how to fix you, always stitching back together what he tore apart.

two months later, and you didn’t end up on that plane beside him. he had you really convinced, though, in the same way you convinced yourself: you’d leave your job, find one similar to yours in LA, climb the ranks, and be as successful as you are here, but there. you’d be just as devoted, passionate, happy. 

ultimately, he thought he knew best, like he always does. he thinks he knows you better than you know yourself, sometimes. he knows you love your job, love your team, your coworkers, you love your position. you spent ages crawling your way up there. you love your friends, your family, you couldn’t leave them behind and still be happy. you’re a loyal woman in every aspect of your life, with your lover, your friends, your career. every small string is attached to what makes you, you. he knows you’d never be as happy as you are in this city, but he also knows you’d never let him go without you. so he left without a goodbye, without a parting gift, a farewell kiss, a last departing whisper of an i love you. 

he left you alone, broken, empty. 

a shell of who you once were. 

what he didn’t take into consideration is that you love him more than anything, anyone. you were inconsolable. your friends didn’t know what to do with you. they wondered why you weren’t at hongjoong’s going away party, why they haven’t heard from you, they didn’t know everything he did was in secret. how word didn’t get passed around to you, you didn’t know, you were still furious about it. they didn’t know how to help you, they couldn’t even start to make sense of why your boyfriend of years would leave you without a second word. neither could you. they couldn’t wrap their minds around how you didn’t know he was leaving. neither could you. 

that one long day you spent at work, coming home to a cold, massive, empty fucking apartment. not a trace of him, not one small sign that he ever lived there in the first place. he took all his clothes with him, all of his equipment for work, even his little trinkets… all gone. disappeared into thin air. how could you not fucking know? 

you took almost a week off from work. something you rarely did, you felt like you couldn’t catch up, couldn’t manage your insanely busy schedule if you did take some personal time. but this was different. it wasn’t a week spent relaxing somewhere warm, it wasn’t a vacation, it wasn’t happy at all. you thought you felt your world crumble around you when he first broke the news, this was the real thing. this was the past three years of your life that had been devoted to one singe person, the person that mattered most, the person that you’d cross oceans and go to war for and he plucked himself directly from your life. 

mina, yuna, yeosang, mingi… they were at your apartment around the fucking clock. they didn’t leave you alone, it was suffocating. you hadn’t left your bed for days, you weren’t eating, you weren’t drinking, you were too busy staring at the space above your dresser where a picture of the two of you once lived. 

he didn’t call. in the year you spent apart, while you built yourself again piece by piece, rewiring your very brain chemistry, he didn’t call you. he blocked your number, blocked your social medias, blocked your family. you went through every outlet at first, every friend you shared, trying again and again, begging for just a conversation with him. never once did you get through, never once did you hear how he was, how the states are different from here, how he’s been eating, who he’s been with… god, who has he been with? he’s yours, no one else’s.

you lost weight, you lost sleep, you lost your drive, you lost yourself, fifty percent of you. your soul was somewhere so far you couldn’t feel it, couldn’t access it, in an entirely different fucking country, tens of thousands of miles away from you. bottles of liquor now sat in your pantry, cartons of cigarettes sprawled across the kitchen table, every hour of your free time spent in solitude, months upon months of you driving yourself mad. 

you thought your bedroom felt empty before, unwelcoming, frigid, dispiriting, you couldn’t imagine being there without him, yet now you couldn’t bring yourself to go elsewhere. you took it for granted, having him here, you felt guilty for even thinking that you’d be happier somewhere else when you had the only thing you’ve ever needed in your possession. 

but a year later, he stood on your doorstep, a doorstep you once shared. a doorstep that has seen you pressed up against the frame with his hand inside your skirt, a doorstep that’s listened to your meaningless arguments on your way home from an event, a doorstep that’s watched as you bid visitors goodbye. he’s there, he’s breathing, he’s living, he’s close to you. not close enough. 

the earth had turned gray, the sunniest of days couldn’t make the city look saturated in the year you spent apart. all the usual too loud noise had turned to whispers, all the business couldn’t inflict an ounce of motivation in you. within seconds of seeing his face everything was colorful, the city had sound again, it was if someone flicked a switch sewn into your back. 

“you’re a real piece of shit,” you bark out, opting to shut the door in his face. his foot slides between the door and the frame, his hand lurching forward to hold it open. 

“i’m here,” is all he says, and you pause, looking up to him. he is here, and he’s real, and you can’t stop the tears from forming. 

hi friends! first post of my work on here <3 i have not posted any of my writing since i was probably 16... pls be nice to me

massive shoutout to @chimivx, thank you for getting me back into it and giving me the courage to post :,) love u forever

anyways i love hongjoong hope u enjoyed xoxo

love, t ｡ ★ • *

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Okay, I lied. One last post before I take that much needed mental health break.

A post that I always swore - back before you could turn off reblogs and mute comments and basically make the lives of would be trolls very pointless, because you will never see what they say - I would never be stupid enough to make.

I leave you with my essay on…

Why Sparkly Vampires Make Perfect Sense, Stephanie Meyer Just Went About It All Wrong

Let's face it, humans don't always know what we're looking at. As an example, I was reading a book about poison use in royal courts. In the section on cures, in the subsection on unicorn horn (alicorn, for the technical term), it mentioned how the people who procured this rare substance were somewhat baffled by the fact that at the end of their lives the unicorn (which lived in such places as Africa, Persia, India, etc.) would migrate to the far north to die on the beaches of the arctic sea. Now, in their defense, it's very unlikely that any of these individuals would be well traveled enough to have even the opportunity to see both a live unicorn and a dead one. If they had, they might have had an easier time realizing 'these are two different animals!'. But the point still stands.

Humans don't always know what we're looking at.

Now, if you go through folk lore and mythology, you will, of course, find horrible blood sucking fiends that drain innocents of their life. Vampires. You will also find lots of entities which emit an ethereal luminescence or radiant glow, entities which possess powers beyond mortal understanding, who can be benign or terrible, and who are known to abscond with humans, although we're certain these humans are safe and happy on Olympus or under the green hill, not dead like they'd be with those blood suckers.

No one who had not seen both Apollo, God of the Sun, and the horrible vampire who chowed down on the neighbor two doors down would realize: they're the same entity.

To make it even harder for the poor mortals (and easier for the vampires!), vampires look different in different lighting conditions. After all, something that sparkles in the sunlight will also sparkle in the moonlight, the firelight, etc., it's just a matter of degrees. So some vampires would hang out in moonlit glens, for that 'fairy of the moonlight' feel, while others would set themselves up in temples with a many fires as they could manage. I mean, if you're going to call yourself Apollo, God of the Sun, you had better be all sparkle all of the time! Top all of this off with mind reading ability that lets traveling vampires fit into the local not-vampire-vampire mythos and yeah, the humans don't stand a chance.

It's great! Things are wonderful! Even if someone does see you devour a hapless victim and run screaming 'vampire' in the town, you can always just eat them next. No big deal. Only the stupid and careless are in real danger.

And then…

CALAMITY!

The head of the Roman Empire, that militant mass of well armed testosterone (and a bunch of less important people), converts to Christianity and proclaims there's only one god who is…not you.

Well shit.

Of course, if you're a lesser known vampire you can pass yourself off as an "Angel of the Lord" in a quick pinch, as long as you're talking to a peasant who's too illiterate to realize you're lacking in the eye and wing department (good news - this is most everyone), but you can't do that too often. And if everyone knows you as Apollo, God of the Sun?

Sucks to be you. You now have a bunch of very militant fundamentalists armed with sharp, pointy implements of destruction chasing after you with cries of 'demon' and 'false god'. Even with your supernatural speed, getting away from them is made far more difficult by the fact they can see you glittering from the other side of the market.

This is where vampires went nocturnal, since moonlight is less sparkle inducing than the sun. Then, since even that gets risky, they slowly moved into caves and cemeteries and the occasional creepy old castle that no sane person would enter without an explicit invitation to dinner, or for a real estate job. Something like that.

The next millennium was pretty dire. The millennium after that was…okay, also pretty dire, until suddenly, at the end of the twentieth century, a miracle! A remarkable shift brought about a change that would once again free vampires from their castles and cemeteries and allow them to walk safely among humans!

But they wouldn't go creeping off to the sun starved, water logged boonies of the Olympic rain forest. Oh hell no! They would go to the cities, to Soho, to Broadway, to places where they could strut proudly down the street to the envious stares of mortals and cries of "Damn, I wish I looked that good in body glitter!"