#or how unabused were you

[karrenseely]

Emotional Regulation

So I have CPTSD. Everything I've read mostly points to this being a lifelong condition (yay :P) that is incredibly difficult for all of us whom suffer from it. I know it has been for me. I honestly don't know if I'd have developed it if my parents had been loving, supportive, and understanding like they should have. Because, even if they had been, I would still have likely had many many years of gas lighting from society, them, and my extended family to be a gender other than what I was. And that takes its toll on anyone's psyche.

But who knows, maybe if they'd been really supportive, then I wouldn't have had years of thinking I was crazy or shameful, maybe I would have transitioned really young as soon as I could tell them they were wrong. Then all I'd have to deal with is some body dysphoria. But then even that can take its toll as well. So I really couldn't say if I was destined to have this incredibly difficult mental health condition or not.

Either way, I really wish I'd had the loving supportive family every child deserves. I really wish I didn't find my psyche shattering as I grew up, getting stuck repeatedly at every traumatic event that I can remember, and actively forgetting everything I couldn't along with most of my other memories. Such that now, my memories consist of shattered disorganized shards scattered over the floor, most of those shards long since missing. It's really difficult to live when all you really have is now.

People talk about their childhoods like there's this linear well established timeline in their memories. It was a long time before I realized this was the typical way people remember their past. That for most people, they can remember approximately when such a memory occurred, in sequence with another. Even now, this is so foreign to me. I remember things in disjointed pieces, any one memory is not connected to any other. And few, if any, are connected to a specific time that I can locate.

Then there is the ability to remember what you did yesterday, or last week, or even last month in day to day life. That it's hard to know what's happened and what's been done recently. This was particularly bad when I was dissociating all the time, fortunately, therapy has helped with that part, and I don't do it as much and I can remember more of my day to day life. But even now, there are still significant holes in my memories of adult life. And admittedly as I struggle through my current flare of CPTSD symptoms, I sometimes wish I could dissociate like I used to so that I don't have to feel all of this horrible stuff. It hurts like hell.

If someone created the universe, they must be one of the most sadistic assholes to have ever existed, making it so healing is so effing painful, much less making thinking feeling beings feed off of one another.

In this journey of trying to heal, I've encountered many people talking about how, when we were abused as children we didn't develop our emotional regulation skills like normal loved, unabused kids do. I always found these comments or suppositions confusing. In large part due to the fact that I don't really understand what emotional regulation means. As a child, trying to survive, the only thing that worked, that made things even remotely bearable was dampening down on emotions until I didn't feel hardly anything at all. I wasn't particularly good at this, I still had feelings but they were distorted hazy half hearted things that would escape out, usually as anger, irritability, sadness, often fear, sometimes even joy would get out. But none were fully formed, or fully embraced, because if I did, then the pain would be in full force, the shame, the horror I constantly felt at what I was going through. So I did my best to damp down my emotions to almost nothing, and dissociate as much as I could so that I didn't have to feel or atleast remember feeling all those horrible things I felt. And the plus side to dissociation is that you truly only live in the moment. You can forget so much that way. You can ride the bus to school, but not remember any of it, just one moment you're at home and the next, poof, you're at school, and the next, poof, it's time to go home again and get on the bus, and poof the next you're at home again... you get the idea.

Emotions when all of the above were unsuccessful and I felt them anyway, usually it was the really really bad ones. And they were felt at 120% full blast. It was either 10 mph, or 120 mph. No inbetween. But people who talk about the ability to regulate emotions describe it as having inbetweens. Not having to feel the full blast, but not suppressing it completely either.

For the longest time when I encountered that phrase around emotional regulation, my mind just skittered past it, as it didn't make any sense to me. But I found myself thinking about it a couple months ago. And some kind fellow people with CPTSD pointed me to links that helped to explain the concept... except, those links were mostly just confusing. And unfortunately, my brain interpreted them as, "you are deficient, you're inability to regulate is your fault." Which didn't help. I honestly don't know if those explanations actually implied that, but it's what it felt like. Maybe because I didn't understand what they were saying.

Then... recently I returned to work, full time. And an interesting, if sucky, thing happened. I was fine at work, I could joke, I could laugh and have fun with coworkers and feel empathy for my patients and basically function somewhat like a typical human being in what I imagine is a healthy fashion. But as soon as I left work and went home, I had no energy left to keep the intrusive memories and emotions in check. And I would immediately start to crash. Spiraling down the rabbit hole of all those horrible memories. Nothing had specifically triggered them, it's just I ran out of spoons and they took over. I'd used up all my spoons at work.

Obviously, I'd overestimated my ability to return to full time work, but also it felt like there was an insight here. And it came down to my emotional bandwidth. If I had enough emotional energy, enough spoons, then minor triggers that normally would have lead me back down that lovely negative spiral, wouldn't actually set me off, and I could continue to function. And this was the neat part, I could continue to function without having all my walls slam down and turn everything numb. But, if I run out of that energy, if I run out of those spoons, then any little thing can set me down that self destructive spiral.

And the more I've thought about this, the more I think this is what people mean when they talk about emotional regulation. That most people have a large fount of this emotional energy to buffer against the extremes. And thus can handle day to day joys, stresses and hurtful things without completely falling apart. If this is the case then I guess I've developed some emotional regulation after all, though it's limited.

But why is it so limited? Why didn't I have any before? And the more I look at it. I see it in terms of bandwidth, energy, and/or spoons. Before, when I was having to live in survival mode, all of my emotional energy was being used to just survive. I was constantly in fight or flight. There was no energy to spare for nuance. My bandwidth was incredibly limited because so much of it was taken up with just surviving from one day to the next, with constant vigilance. But when we are no longer in those situations, and just as importantly, when we are not constantly flashing back to those situations, we start to have that bandwidth become available for the nuance. We can start feeling things in between because we have the energy to do so. It's no longer entirely about survive or die.

And that's the worst part about flashbacks. Even though I'm no longer in that constant life or death situation, those flashbacks have me believing I am. And contrary to popular media's depiction of flashbacks, most of the time it's not getting stuck in a living visual memory of an event. No, the vast majority of those flashbacks are emotional flashbacks. Getting stuck in the feelings of the event, the feelings I couldn't suppress anymore, the constant feeling of being in danger, of having my life, my very existence threatened, which brings on the constant sense of danger, of fight or flight. Which means, no emotional energy for anything else, except the extremes. Everything in my life currently can be perfectly fine, safe, wonderful even. But if I'm stuck in an emotional flashback, none of the current circumstances matter, because I'm emotionally back in survival mode, feeling constantly threatened, trying to survive, trying to decide if I need to fight or run. And if I'm stuck there... then there isn't any emotional energy left for anything else.

The really effing sucky part, is that often I don't know I'm in an emotional flashback until after it's gone away, and I can see looking back that how I was feeling didn't fit at all with what was actually happening at the time. I reacted to an outside observer in a rather extreme, or worse in a completely irrational manner. But then when I'm in the middle of it, I guess it's understandable that I have a hard time recognizing it, as all my energy is directed towards surviving, towards keeping the pain and my fears at bay.

So maybe emotional regulation is just having enough emotional energy to filter the experiences you're having into a much more nuanced pattern, rather than having to sort things into binary extremes of bad, not bad. And if that's the case, then maybe, just maybe, I am healing, because I'm starting to free up some of my bandwidth to start sorting out the nuances... even if I can't quite identify what those nuances are yet.

[pynkhues]

how do you think the roy kids were in college? shiv’s dancing in 3x07, connor not seeing logan for multiple years, kendall the “king” of the lampoon, and roman being sent to military school all give such bizarre setups for their college years

I mean, y’know. Messy, on all fronts, hahaha.

Interestingly, Kendall’s the only one we actually know for a fact went to college at all (and did postgrad at that), but I do suspect all four of them went with varying degrees of success and levels of study. In a lot of ways, I feel like it probably contributed to the divide between them that’s being emphasised this season – the one that positions Kendall and Shiv as the unabused overachievers, and Roman and Connor as the abused and neglected underachievers – it’s a bullshit perception obviously, and one that only really seems to be felt fully by Kendall and Shiv.

After all, Roman and Connor aren’t underachievers, at least no more than the rest of them, and Kendall and Shiv aren’t unabused, but I do think this divide has contributed to the ways that they likely navigated the college experience.

Kendall & Shiv

With the way Kendall and Shiv seem to view each other as intellectual equals (I always find it kind of fascinating that their attacks of each other usually boil down to Kendall’s addiction and mental health and Shiv’s gender and inexperience in business as opposed to attacks on intelligence, which they both level at Roman and Connor), I do feel they probably have similar degrees of education, which makes me think that Shiv did postgrad too. I think she would’ve deliberately not gone to Harvard, since Kendall went there, but I do think she would’ve gone to an on-par Ivy League school, and I do think it’s pretty likely that she did political science given her career trajectory at the start of the show and her academic political knowledge in 3.06.

In a lot of ways, I do think Kendall and Shiv are mirrors of each other, so I do think they probably engaged similarly at school. I think they both probably partied harder than they should’ve, that they coasted on their assumed intelligence as the ‘smart’ siblings until they fucked something up and the shame of that likely had them either working hard or cheating, and I think they both did a lot of extra curriculars to pad their resume. I don’t think either of them would know what to do in a team sport, but we know Kendall worked in distribution for the Lampoon (one of my favourite jokes on this show will always be him equating working operationally for it as meaning he was default funny), and I imagine Shiv would’ve scoffed at that and differentiated herself by working like - - editorial at Yale Daily News or something. Something she thought their dad would respect (which I actually do think he would’ve liked, but I don’t think he would’ve respected, because at the end of the day, he’s never respected any of his children, but especially not Shiv).

I think they both probably had messy college hook ups and experimented more than they’d ever actually admit, and I think they’d both absolutely feel they were the little prince and little princess of their respective campuses. Something to front annoyance at, but secretly relish in the security and familiarity of, and - - yeah. I think college probably felt safe for both of them. Far enough away from their father to feel like they had freedom, while still close enough to feel protected (and leashed), and I think they both probably did well enough to enjoy coming home for their gold stars and their pats on the head, just as I think they both probably spun out when they realised Logan was never going to be the father who gave gold stars or pats on the head (if they just do better though, y’know, maybe - - )

Connor

I’ve looong had the headcanon that Connor went but never graduated.

I kinda feel like he would’ve bounced around a bit? If he was 15 when Kendall was born, and if Logan had snatched him back up at that point (which I do kinda suspect he would have), he was likely in college when Roman and Shiv were born. I can see him potentially trying to stay closer to the family as a result of that, especially if he had already bonded with Kendall who would’ve been, what? Three? When he went to college? So he might’ve started off at a university in England, or been content to be away in the States during the semesters (especially if his mother was still alive), but spent holidays home with the Roy side of the family.

In that sense, I could see him at somewhere like UCLA? Connor would’ve been in college in the early 1980s, and I think he would’ve been into the college lifestyle of chill parties and a bit of activism here and there, depending on who he liked, and following bands around, but I also think he was a traumatised young man who was torn between feeling like an usurped heir to an empire and a boy forcibly separated from both parents desperately trying to establish himself in an expanding family back home. The fact of that alone I think means his perspective was off, and without the family unit the golden trio find in each other and him, he would’ve been an 18, 19, 20-year-old man trying to figure himself out with siblings so young strangers likely mistook them for his children.

I don’t know how likely it actually would be, but I will say that I kind of like the idea that Connor’s the only one of the four of them who’s kind of good at team sport? He canonically horse rides, so maybe he does polo, haha, but I also kind of like this idea that maybe for a hot minute he was good at football? I like the idea that maybe he briefly was good enough at something Logan valued to form a bond over, and that it maybe fell apart as he was never quite good enough, because god, isn’t that just Connor’s life story?

Roman

In terms of college, I actually find Roman the hardest to pin down? I do think he graduated, just because I don’t think he could’ve handled that level of disappointment from his dad if he hadn’t, but I don’t think he did postgrad. I think he probably went to an Ivy still though? Insider and Wall Street Journal tell me that Brown and Dartmouth are usually ranked lowest of the Ivy’s, so I kinda think he probably went to one of those.

I actually think he probably worked harder than Kendall and Shiv did, at least in his first year there, and maybe even performed better in some classes, but that it wasn’t treated as such because the school ‘wasn’t as good’ and because he was already relegated to the fuck up son slot with Connor, so he just thought fuck it and coasted enough to graduate. I think he probably experimented with the idea of experimenting – that he flirted with people across spectrums and got close to having sex with a few of them (maybe even did with one or two), but that the experiences were uncomfortable enough for him that he never really lost himself to them like Kendall and Shiv did.

I think he made fast friendships that didn’t last, and that was probably because he was torn between his dad and school and I imagine he at this point was also starting to really face the realities of having a brother who was an addict (everything about 1.07 makes me think Roman’s experienced a Kendall overdose before, and timeline-wise, I imagine that would’ve been likely around his college days), his dad and Kendall being two factors he’s canonically protective of when it comes to outsiders, so likely impacted his ability to form friendships and relationships with others.

Yeah, he probably had a token girlfriend or two to save face, but I think in many ways, college probably felt like being sent away again for him as a result of military school (or, well, not military school, given St. Andrews had stopped being one and was instead just an outdoorsy boarding school by the time Roman would’ve gone, and the show’s attention to detail feels too specific for that to not be relevant) in a way that it didn’t for Kendall and Shiv. I don’t think he felt like the prince of his campus, I think he probably tried to get through and do well long enough to get home and give his father something that would make him happy. When he experienced the same dismissal Kendall and Shiv did though, I don’t think he spun out, I just think he probably expected it.

I don’t know though! What do you guys think?

[rvllybllply2014]

Heavy stuff under the cut (insert that I’m fine meme)

It’s probably my period coming on and the fact that it’s my mom’s birth month but damn this life fucking sucks. And it’s on me i know this, but you would think the other person would take responsibility for his actions and grow the fuck up. You’re fucking 32 but drink like an alcoholic teen, and then get abusive towards me. 16+ shots is not a normal amount of shots. Threatening to hit my face with a 2 gallon (full) water bottle is not unabusive behavior. You got mad because i pointed out that you were only supposed to get water, not four more shots and a tall can of beer, i knew you would. Then when i point out the window are down and there people a car space over you pour one of your shots all over my clothes, my seat and my phone. When i go to record your behavior, you know it’s wrong, you throw my phone on the floor. Then you refuse to give me the phone after I tell Siri to call 911, get mad at me because you have to now give me my phone back and yeah i did lie to the operator everything was not fine. But i lied and told them it was, even if they weren’t convinced. Then i rolled the windows back down because you threatened to beat my face in and calling me stupid, but you only shut up once i pointed out the cop car at the air hose who were airing up their tires. Then you took my phone again after I tried to record you threatening me, caused a fucking scene and demanded that i take you back to my house. You think i have no backbone, please i stand up to you everyday, the reason i didn’t cuss out my dads bitch of a girlfriend is because its called respect and im not trying to be homeless with you. If you get this far two things. One parents if you’re an alcoholic or your partner is or a family member by blood is please talk to your kids about addiction. Don’t let them make excuses of oh i started drinking 6 years ago, it’s not okay especially if they have anger issues. And two of your partner is an alcoholic with violent tendencies towards you run as fast and as far as you can away from them. Idc how much you think you love them, they DONT LOVE YOU. If they loved you they wouldn’t put their hands on you, not even once. If they just threaten to hurt you LEAVE THEM, it’s not love. Sometimes you have to go against your very core of who you are to save yourself. Take it from me, I’m not a selfish person and I’m pretty forgiving but that’s my downfall I’m now stuck in an abusive relationship of 6 years. At least once a month i have to deal with him putting his hands on me or threatening to beat my face in. And oh yeah sorry not sorry that I’m protective over my phone, but when it has a video of my DEAD MOTHER ON IT I DONT WANT ANYTHING TO HAPPEN TO IT. I’m losing memories of her everyday, and I can’t lose my phone or the video of her talking.

Anyway sending peace and love to my fellow abuse survivors. May we each get out and only know peace and love.

[she-ra-shitposting]

you: i have childhood trauma around my abusive parents | that anon: anyway let me talk about my great parents and lack of abuse

Right? Not to sound like a dick but some of you need to take a class on tact and learning to read a room.

I don't wanna be unnecessarily rude I'm sure they just wanted to share a headcanon but if someone literally says due to past childhood trauma and abuse, such they can relate to Catra and Adora, they cannot picture them as parents because they cannot picture themself a parent, due to horrible physical and mental abuse as a child, please have some grace and decorum to not go into that persons inbox with a story about how your parents weren't abusive towards you.

[blackwoolncrown]

That actually reminds me of some things I wanted to say about childrearing and abuse...

There are a lot of good parent psychs going around doing the work of convincing adults that spanking children is bad (and that also if they were spanked, that was bad) and there are a lot of great arguments for this case.

As someone who was punished and abused in many ways considered ‘discipline & consequences’ in my household, I want to say this:

If you love your child at all, if you think that it matters that people in the world be good in the slightest: do not physically or emotionally abuse your children.

It does not make them ‘good’. It does not make them strong and it will not make them successful.

First off, trauma will make it so that no matter what, their best self won’t begin to come out until decades after their unabused peers if it comes out at all.

If it comes out, it will take years and years of work. Of resources. Of money. Of therapy. Of difficult failures.

If you beat and abuse your child, you will take years off their life.

Maybe because trauma pushes them into risky situations, self abandonment, lack of self care, depression, drug abuse or abusive relationships. Maybe because PTSD is a constant source of stress which wears away at the immune system and causes disease until alleviated.

Maybe because they will have to spend so much time recovering instead of growing and we never get time back.

Maybe because it takes thousands upon thousands upon thousands of dollars, all told, to recover from childhood trauma, and that takes forever to earn especially when your nervous system is damaged: reminder, trauma is a form of  brain damage.

A traumatized person who had it ‘rough’ growing up is not stronger or better than someone who grew up gently- we are the remainder of those who don’t make it. Who die early. Who fall off the map and through the cracks.

Lastly, if you abuse your children- if you hit them, yell at them, twist them emotionally, and shame them, they wil not learn how to be good, fair or confident. They will learn:

“If I am not good enough for the world, the world will rightly get rid of me because I do not deserve to be in it.” “People you love can physically or emotionally violate you and this is good and normal.” “If I want something from others, it is okay to assault, manipulate or harm them. This is good and fair.”

“If someone you are close with hurts you, you must accept it; asking them to stop is not an option.” “It is normal to feel scared of people you trust.”

Read those closely and recognize how much those are exactly the mindsets that abusers, p*dophiles, r*pists and other twisted souls want their victims to have.

What are you preparing your children for?

[filthforfriends]

TW: abuse

happy Father's Day to the man that said:

"I thought you were being harsh calling her out, and I understood that, but you were just stating facts all this time. But I know people came down on you real hard for that. Your uncle can just be...well you know how he is. They were always enabling each other. I thought he was too hard on your when you grandma was dying. I told him to calm down a little bit."

"And of course you know that [my brother] was the favorite and he gets privilege because of that. It must have been hard, knowing she loved him different, but everyone pretending that she didn't favor him. Your grandmother did the same thing."

"I so wish she would get well. For her sake and yours."

"People treated it like it was normal mother and daughter fighting, because that was easier. They said it, and I'll admit I did to."

"It was abuse. Of course it was abuse! We just didn't realize what was happening to us because of her narcissism."

"I don't know how I got the good side of her [my mom] for so many years, but all this time you were telling the truth."

"She used to say that you were trying to break us up, by saying we were gonna get a divorce. I said, 'she's not trying to do that at all.' You were warning us, knew 2 years before, an it still happened."

Gee thanks but that doesn't unabuse me

What I really wanted him to say: "I don't know how you did it all those years. I couldn't survive two years." So that I could scream and tell him that I did not survive. That I'm only allowing him to play the victim card because I love him. That he abandoned me in the place he deemed in hospitable. That I wake up every day to a world full of adults who could have saved me and didn't.

That I fantasize about having a beautiful life instead of being a person in pieces where every edge is sharp. I don't want to be a mosaic, (fuck that!) which are just lonely shards coagulated together with cement. Which are not the same thing as a life. Mosaics are a gruesome funeral, like burying an empty casket because the death was so violent it eviscerated the body. I'm not interested in making my damage easier to look at. If this is what you call survival, then fine, I survived. Yay me.

[animedaddymilkers]

Kinkmas 2020: Day Four

Prompt: Rope Play w/ Neji

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Rope Play, Praise, Soft Dom, Sex || Characters: Neji Hyuuga, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

"Don't move, (Y/N). I've already told you twice." Neji's irritated voice sounded from above you, followed by a sigh, "It will only make it hurt."

"But what if I want that~?" You teased with a smirk on your face and even though you couldn't see your boyfriend through the blindfold, you could feel his steely gaze.

He scoffed, "and how many times must I remind you, if you move while I'm tying, it will only result in your limbs going numb. Is that really the pain you want? You're well aware how long it takes to get you out of my rope. Now just hush and keep still, beloved."

No matter how annoyed Neji was with your antics, he always reminded you that his words weren't out of ire. The pet name tacked on to the end of his mini lecture was proof enough of that. So, you heed his warning and tried to stay as still as possible while the velvety rope was wound around your body expertly. Truly, he wasn't kidding when he said it took a while to get you out of his ropes, but it took even longer to get in them. Neji was an expert ropes master by now and you were his prized canvas. The shapes he created on your body were his masterpieces, each created with the utmost love. His fingers led the rope deftly around you, going even as far as undoing parts just to redo them. Everything had to be perfect, it's what you deserve after all.

As his hands deftly wound around your wrists, he pressed soft kisses into your neck. The kisses were light and barely there, until he made it to the one spot he knew you were most sensitive. When he reaches it, he licked your neck before sucking on the skin. You moaned much to his approval and the hand that wasn't holding the rope brushed up your arm, tracing over the material already wound around it. Ever the secret artist, Neji left an array of hickies along the back of your neck and shoulders. Those were definitely going to be a problem for future you. Right now though, you chose to focus on the rope that was finally being finished off after what seemed like an eternity.

"You're gorgeous," his tone was so much softer than before, every word dripping in adoration for you to the point where it made your face heat up, "Are you ready to see, my love?"

"Yes please."

With your answer, he untied your blindfold, light returning to your vision as you took in the sight of yourself in the mirror. His rope work was never something to laugh at. Hell, he never did anything short of perfection and this was clear when you took in every carefully planned knot and twist. Neji brushed his fingers against your hair, just barely touching you. In scenes like this he was always nearly afraid to touch you, as if you were made of glass. The heart shape left in the middle of your chest was a nice touch, usually he only did shapes with sharp edges and right corners. Meaning, he went out of his comfort zone this time and the thought was endearing. Another kiss was left on the unabused side of your neck, his hands wandering over his handiwork and lingering on the places where your flesh bulged in between the ropes.

After an inhale of breath Neji spoke again, his voice deeper now, "You look absolutely intoxicating."

His hands met yours and intertwined your fingers together. Next, your lips met, first in gentle embrace which quickly became more feverish and desperate. Sitting still and waiting as the material was wound around you, only moving when he asked, it was downright torture on a horny bitch. And so when you finally met his lips it was hard to hold back, you just wanted to show him how much you appreciated him making you this pretty. Though if you would voice it out loud with words he'd be quick to assure you that it was you who made the rope pretty, not the other way around. His hands wandered down to your tied together legs and gently pushed you to lean on your side. The new angle gave him access to your wetness from behind and he took advantage of it. He fingers moved up and down, smirking slightly at just how soaked you were from his tying.

A heavy sigh left your lips and you embraced the position more, fully laying down on your side. Neji's free hand continued to run over your skin while the other slowly slipped inside of your heat. He slowly fucked his finger into you before adding another. The rope on your thighs dug in as you tried to separate them to no avail. Another finger invaded you, this time curling and you moaned into the bedsheets.

"Let me hear you, my love. Your sounds are too delectable to hide."

His words alone had you moaning again, this time giving in and lifting your head. Your hips moved back onto his fingers before they completely left you altogether. Not evening giving you enough time to voice your contempt, Neji was helping you position yourself face down ass up on the bed. Or, at least, as ass up as you could get considering you couldn't bend your knees. Still, the sight was intoxicating to him and he attentively put pillows under your hips to help. Your tied arms outstretched in front of you gripped the sheets as Neji slowly slid into you. He bottomed out and groaned, hands running up and down the ropes along your hips. The feeling of him was always breathtaking, stretching you so pleasantly and thrusting solely to pleasure you. His first pace was always agonizingly slow, leaving you breathing heavily and nearly begging for more.

But Neji would never make you beg, no, he was far too infatuated with you to force you to beg on nights like these. Instead, he would whisper more sweet nothings into your ear, playing with your tightly tied breasts. It was good for distracting you for a while until he picked up the pace a bit. His hips kept moving, always trying to find that special spot of yours. And when he did he wouldn't leave it alone. You gasped and pushed your hips back into his and he knew he found it. That's when the show really began. His pace quickened and Neji's grip on your hips tightened, lifting you up to meet his cock. Both of your moans and pants mixed in the air between curses and prayers. The obscene sound of your hips meeting only makes you feel hotter as he kept abusing your g spot, practically daring you to go ahead and cum. Finally, you gave in to the suggestion, yelling out his name as you clenched around him.

Your orgasm shook your whole body, toes curling and pussy clenching. Neji was lucky to be able to fuck you through your orgasm but before you come down he's spiraling down his own climax. He grunts and holds your hips flush to his as his cock twitches inside of you. The aftermath is blissful as you two pant almost in unison, Neji slumped against your back. After regaining the willpower in his legs he slowly pulls out of you, admiring how his cum looks dripping out of you, contrasting the dark color of the rope. It doesn't last long though as he knows you need to be untied. With that he sets about the task, unraveling the rope at only a slightly faster pace than before.

"You were heavenly. I wish I could replay it on command. You're a work of art, beloved. You took it so well too."

His words barely stopped giving you praises as he untied and unwound your body from its aesthetic cage. To add to the praise, with every inch of skin he released, he'd kiss it tenderly. Most nights you found yourself lost in the hazy after sex thoughts about how he could kiss you constantly yet still talk so much. Not like you minded, having Neji talk was something you rarely were able to experience much in public. Given his quiet, stoic nature it was a stark contrast, a very welcome one. Especially given the topic his words were about. Your legs finally free, you stretched them out while Neji rubbed them, savoring in the indents the rope left. His hands slid up your legs and continued the process on your torso, deftly untying the knots.

Once you were finally free of the restraints you cupped your hand around Neji's cheek and pulled him in for a kiss. Now that you were basking in your post orgasm, sleep began to hit you. It felt so pleasant to be so satisfied and sleepy. As if all was right with the world and really, if Neji was by your side it was alright. His hands cleaned you up with a warm washcloth that you weren't exactly sure when he got. Still, the action was endearing, because heaven knows you did not want to get out of bed now. While he returned the washcloth you snuggled underneath the covers, reveling in his reappearance. As if he'd be able to resist coming back to you. Neji climbed into your waiting embrace and returned it happily as his arms wrapped around you. Sweet kisses were pressed to the top of your head as sleep quickly overtook the both of you. If every night you could fall asleep like this, that would truly be the best life.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :)

[of-another-broken-heart]

You know.

It really fucking sucks being reminded that if you’re a victim of non-physical abuse, you can and will be victim-blamed. 

In fact, I think it’s the only form of victimization where victim-blaming is not just encouraged, but ~technically~ supported. Socially, academically, and medically.

You were manipulated, abused? Verbally, emotionally?

Well darling sweetheart that was your fault, you know, and you’re not allowed to talk about it (except with a therapist!), because that makes YOU the manipulator/abuser, don’t you know?

You’re not actually allowed to be a victim, no no. You’re not allowed to have logical altered behavior, based on the real actual experiences you went through, the literal words said to you. No, no.

You’re not allowed to let anyone glimpse that reality, no, no. Positive vibes only! Therapy, therapy, sweep sweep! We do not speak the things-that-must-not-be-spoken. We clap our hands over our mouths and gasp and dart our eyes around. Smile. Smile! Therapy, my dear. Therapy is the word we’re allowed to say. That’s it. That’s it! Don’t bring it up again. (Abuser).

I’m so sick of toxic positivity people. I really am.

It's real infuriating reading comments where a buncha woke third-eye nirvana saints with limitless money and therapy access simultaneously claim to understand the trauma behind “maladaptive” behaviors, while also gleefully admitting to participating in the exact same traumatic abandonment that causes the trauma in the first place. Truly spectacular. 

“If you trust me enough tell me how other people hurt you and caused you to be this way, I will do the exact same things to you!” is not the woke good-hearted confession you seem to think.

If you're too shallow to acknowledge the good, the neutral AND the bad in human life, stop pretending to be a friend. If you’re so fucking regressive and selfish that you can’t or won’t entertain a victim’s history and grant a lick of fucking understanding - if you passively expect everyone to BE healthy and unharmed, unabused - then you’re part of the fucking problem. You’re the delusional one in this equation. You’re the one with unreasonable expectations, having arrived at an illogical conclusion to the very real world and people around you.

It’s the same as expecting everyone to be straight, cis, or white, or whatever socially accepted “ideal” in other slices of life. You’re not the woke one for being taken aback when a black man walks into your office when you were expecting a white man; you’re not transcendent when your friend tells you they’re gay and your response is to gasp in shock; and you’re not a “good person” by any definition by chastising or blaming a victim for daring to be affected by their trauma and/or abuse(r). 

“Yeah we know you lost your leg but do you really have to bring that walker with you? Ugh, no, don’t tell me anything, I don’t consent to you ⚠trauma dumping⚠ on me.”

“Yeah, I know you went through foster care for like, 15 years or whatever, and got abused physically and emotionally by multiple families, but like, I’m not your therapist, so you should just forget that whole history and develop entirely different illogical behaviors just for me because I don’t have room in my shitty shriveled heart for empathy. Give me only ✨good vibes✨ or else you’re toxic.”

“It’s really manipulative for you to get so jumpy when I take out my gun to play with, you know? Just because you survived a shooting, doesn’t mean I’m going to shoot you, and it’s really hurtful for you to equate me with a psychopath like that!”

And on. And on. And on. This is what you fucking sound like. 

Grow a fucking heart or shut the fuck up. Therapy therapy therapy - go yourself and find out where you went so wrong in your life that you somehow determined that the morally correct behavior for all of humanity was to play pretend and ignore 2/3 of human experience. Detachment, reactive abandonment, and failing to engage with the neutral, the bad, is NOT a point of pride, you shriveled soulless shithead.

[comicreliefmorlock]

#WomenInHorror - Relic - Oh, the Thoughts

I bet you thought @tlbodine would get to this first, huh? HAH!

So as part of our ongoing quest to inflict doctorate-level studies of horror film on ourselves for... the sake of doing it, Wuffie and I have been watching a lot of horror movies. Having finished our #HorrorThruTheDecades quest, we moved on to #WomenInHorror, focusing on horror films directed by women.

She's written quite a bit about the movies we've been watching. However, this last week, we watched a film that inspired me into a long-winded post-mortem after we finished it.

Relic is a 2020 Australian horror film directed by Natalie Erika James, focusing on a three-generation family struggle between a grandmother, a mother and a daughter.

Edna, the grandmother, has been missing for several days when her daughter Kay and granddaughter Sam arrive to check on her. We get a little from Kay hinting that her relationship with her mother has been strained, and alternatively, defense of Edna by her granddaughter Sam who has a completely different relationship with her. (As tends to happen with grandparents and grandchildren.) Clues are laid out to hint that Edna may be succumbing to Alzheimer's and quite honestly, the movie does a very good job in showing how absolutely difficult it is to deal with that. Especially in the family situation involving the shift in power dynamic that happens when a parental figure suddenly needs a lot of careful, supportive care.

And Robyn Nevin as Edna? Fantastic. Sympathetic and terrifying all at once.

I won't spoil the film's ending here--you've got to go below the cut for that--but it's at once poignant and plays fair emotionally with the film's overall tone.

Now, for what I went off at great length at Wuffie about... [#triggerwarning for child abuse discussion]

Relic is pretty clearly intended to be a film about grief, aging, the inevitability of death and how part of dealing with health issues in older generations involves facing that you yourself one day may be in that exact situation.

What it also does really, really well--albeit unintentionally but strongly enough that it hit me across the face with a shoe--is create a solid metaphor for intergenerational child abuse.

Fairly early on in the film, the granddaughter Sam discovers a black mold staining a wall inside of a cluttered closet. This black mold becomes a consistent visual element that shows in nightmares, in the house and on Edna herself, staining her skin like a bruise. This mold, through the nightmares, is visually tied to a now-demolished smaller house that'd once stood on the family grounds and was the home of a "great-grandfather" mentioned once directly and alluded to in several nightmare sequences.

This mold grows on stained glass windows that were transplanted from the former house, spreads across the interior of the house itself and spreads across Edna's skin.

Several visual cues tie the black mold to the "great-grandfather" who, in one nightmare sequence, is shown sitting on the edge of a narrow bed before collapsing forward, out of sight. When the camera pans over, a human figure is etched in black mold on the floor.

At the end of the film, after Edna's transformation--you really ought to watch the movie to know what I mean--and the joining of three generations of women in silence together, Sam spies a black spot on her mother Kay's back, hinting at that same mold that destroyed Edna.

Incestuous child abuse is insidious and yet, from the memoirs I've read, always seems to be something the family "knows about" and simply doesn't discuss. A grandparent, a cousin, an aunt or uncle is abusing the family children--sometimes singling out one child, sometimes abusing every child--and the family is aware of this, but no actual steps are taken to bring the abuser to justice.

The cycle of abuse is fairly commonly known, but the long-term effects of child sexual abuse aren't always as easily identified by the public. Alcohol and drug abuse are extremely common amongst child sexual abuse survivors, as well as an inability to develop healthy, trusting relationships with other adults. Difficulties in parenting can also arise as the person who suffered abuse may fear the same thing happening to their child or be struggling emotionally and not able to show their child the affection they need.

Much like the insidious spread of black mold in out-of-sight places, causing illnesses that can't be immediately identified and threatening the structural integrity of a house, incestuous child abuse absolutely threatens and even destroys lives. It's hard to spot at a glance, hides in plain sight--in closets, cupboards, under stairs, behind furniture--and causes illnesses that can be attributed to more "acceptable" causes.

With the clear visual tie to the once-mentioned "great-grandfather" that isn't mentioned between the family members again, it's not hard to go a bit further and consider him the unmentioned, unnamed family abuser. His actions tainted the house he lived in, the remnants brought from it--Edna says later in the film how much she hates the stained glass windows, how cold and scared she feels when she passes them--and spread not only through the house but through the family itself.

And this mold--and the effects of intergenerational incestuous abuse--hits all three women in this family differently.

Edna, theoretically the member of the family who suffered direct abuse, is physically tainted by the black mold to the point it literally degenerates her body. Aspects of her behavior--disliking having "help" or needing to ask for it, offering a token to her granddaughter one day, demanding it back the next, trying to save photo albums from 'the house' by burying them--seemed strikingly like a woman whose coping mechanisms are now failing her.

She mentions believing someone is breaking into her house, stating it only began after the death of her husband. Alone in a massive house with visual, physical ties to the location of her abuse, feeling vulnerable and struggling to push away memories, Edna's actions feel like a cry for help that she can't verbalize because to do so would be to admit not only the vulnerability she feels now, but the fact that it's equivalent to how vulnerable she was as a child, being abused.

Fairly early on in Relic, Kay makes it clear that she and her mother are not particularly close. She makes attempts to stay in contact, but isn't invested in her mother's day to day life and has actually distanced herself to a degree. Her daughter Sam has a closer and more openly affectionate relationship with Edna. Kay mentions her mother threatening to lock her in the old house "when she was a brat" and seems to want a comfortable distance between herself and her mother.

A parent who has endured abuse as a child can have profound difficulty in bonding with their own children. Healthy sexual intercourse and adult relationships are tainted by child abuse experiences, and some memoires have mentioned being pregnant making them feel "dirty" as if they'd committed some great sin. Bonding with an infant while struggling with those emotions can lead to distant parenting and leave a child with an insecure emotional attachment.

Sam, the granddaughter, is the least damaged by the intergenerational abuse at the beginning of the film. She has an affectionate relationship with her grandmother, seems actively interested in doing what she can to help Edna and scolds her mother for not taking a more prominent role. When Sam finds a sketchbook with a sketch of the 'great-grandfather's' house, she doesn't know what it is or to whom it belonged. The cycle of abuse has been broken; Sam isn't even aware that abuse happened.

What she does is learn of it through a visual metaphor for unearthing family history. Discovering the black mold in the closet and pursuing a ghostly figure into what becomes a nightmarish labyrinth that has echoes of the home she'd always felt safe in plays very well as the realization for an unabused member of a family learning about the abuse that happened. What was loving and familiar is suddenly alien and terrifying, threatening and tainted.

By the end of the film--rather an emotionally poignant moment--all three women have been hurt by this black mold (i.e. incestuous abuse) and have come together in a moment of quiet rest. Edna, completely altered into a shell of who she once was, with Kay, accepting that what happened is fact and had effects on her as well, and Sam, who now understands a great deal about her mother and grandmother.

Every generation in the family has been affected to some degree, even if the cycle of abuse was fortunately broken. The black mold not only completely transformed Edna internally, expressed in a striking visual moment, but also tainted her daughter. Even the granddaughter, although physically unharmed by the mold, has been permanently changed by learning about what happened in her family and feeling her perceptions twist (frighteningly so) from what she once held to what she now knows.

While I don't think the film intended to be such a great visual metaphor for the horrific effects of incestuous family abuse and the intergenerational damage it causes, it did an incredibly good job of being one.

[torterragarden]

So from what I heard, the Sindel retcon was partly influenced by wanting to give her more agency and partly because they didn't think it made sense for her to be good because she kind of looked like a typical evil queen even when she was good.

Yeah I know about it supposedly beingbecause her design “looks evil” and all that does is make me thinkNRS is dumb and lazy and unimaginative because there is no reason that it has to look evil. They definitely could have kepther gothic witch/banshee aesthetic intact and still made her kind and good likeshe has been in past games. Fan artists have been doing that for years it’s not hard

As for the argument that this change isactually good because it gives her more agency, I’m not gonna sugarcoat thisbuddy I absolutely loathe that pseudo-femnist cold take I think it’s entirelybullshit. Like, I don’t think anyone is gonna try to argue that original Sindelwas like, Peak Feminism or whatever, cause she kind of was, at least in her inception, another victimized and long-suffering female character and yeah that’s not exactly great. If the goal was to give her more agency (which it wasn’t, let’s not give NRS more credit than they deserve even if that credit is bullshit), then that would be good. But this would not be the way to do it. You don’t give a victimized character agency by entirely changing their personality and story so that they were never a victim at all, and then acting like that was the idea all along. That’s just a slap in the face to anyone who sympathized with or related to that character. The way to do it would be… well, it would be what they already fucking did in past games! Have Sindel take control of her life and fate again! Have her break free from Shao Kahn, have her fight back, have her save her daughter and her people and be the wise and benevolent ruler she always was! I don’t care if New Sindel is powerful or bad ass or whatever, I don’t care because she isn’t interesting. She’s a generic villainess with a flat personality and boring motivations. That’s not a better character

And there’s really no getting around howdisgusting and insulting and completely fucking tone deaf it is to rewriteSindel’s history so that she was with Shao Kahn willingly. The whole “characterwe thought was a victim was actually fine and in control the whole time” twistcan work in some cases, this was notone of those cases. The twist doesn’t work when these are long establishedcharacters with long established relationships and stories. We have always beentold and shown that Shao Kahn forced Sindel into marriage, and that he droveher to suicide. The exact details might change, but that’s always been ourunderstanding, and we’ve always sympathized with Sindel and cheered for herwhen she broke free. So to suddenly tell us that nah, she really wanted to bonedown with him actually, is just awful and that shouldn’t have to explained! Againit’s a slap in the face to anyone who felt for Sindel! Like, if DC put out somethingabout the Joker and Harley Quinn being in a loving and totally unabusive relationshipand they were like “oh yeah it’s always been like this, we’re just finding outabout it now!” would you think “oh thank god we only thought Harley Quinn was being abused all these years and sheactually had agency this whole time” or would you think “hey what the fuck”?

There is no positive way to spin this palthis retcon is shit writing and it makes me want to fucking puke lol

[christophe-delorne]

KGC Drabble Part 3.

Pairings: Gregory and Christophe

AU: Werewolves

Warnings: NSFW. Blood, bondage, and sex. Club Illuminaughty Members only.

Notes:  This took me so long to finish. I kept getting distracted by cats. Anyways, here's the end of this little scene inspired by an rp. Also, I’m making a South Park RP server on Discord and I need help picking out a theme for it. Find all the information here!

"Gregory." The start of a breathless reply followed soon after the demand, gaining the blonde's attention. There was a pause, a mere heartbeat that seemed to last forever before Christophe continued on when Gregory didn't respond right away. "Please." A simple answer, Christophe wasn't one to beg, but he had little options at the moment. He couldn't resist Gregory, especially not this close to the fully moon. Not when Gregory was playing his interests so perfectly.

"Please what?" Gregory mused, one hand reaching out so he could ghost his fingertips over the front of Christophe's torso. Light green eyes tracked their path, taking in ever intricate detail. The scars, the tattoos, everything that made Christophe's body unique, a roadmap of his past. A gloved thumb circled lightly around one of those dusky nipples, watching with cold amusement as Christophe arched into the touch with a need. Christophe was all too aware of what Gregory could do, what sort of pleasure the blonde could give him and right now Christophe's mind was bringing those memories up to the fore.

"I need you." Christophe strained out through clenched teeth, causing them to ache. He wanted nothing more that to sink them into pale, beautiful skin, into hard muscles, to leave his mark so all could see who Gregory belonged to. He hated the way others looked at him, impressed by his build and height, of perfect blonde hair, dazzling green eyes and a charming little smile that melted him on the inside. Gregory was far from charming at the moment, but that wasn't a bad thing. Christophe loved when Gregory let Christophe catch a glimpse of that alpha nature that so few rarely got to see.

"Oh?" Gregory raised a brow as his index finger came to pinch at Christophe's perked nipple, he was non-too gentle about the way he slowly began to twist. Christophe quivered and strained against his bonds, feeling another sting of pain spiderweb out from the sensitive peak. He found pleasure within the pain and Gregory knew all too well on how to get what he desired from the French werewolf. "You always need me, don't you, mutt?" Gregory murmured in a chilled tone that mocked charming, making this a pleasurable source of punishment.

Christophe could only nod, his body strung tight as Gregory kept his nipple pinched tightly. Though, that didn't seem to satisfy Gregory as he leaned in towards the unabused nipple, catching Christophe off guard as thick canines suddenly pieced through olive skin and lean muscle. Christophe cried out from the sudden rush of pain and ecstasy from the feel of those bestial teeth gracefully tearing into his flesh with no effort around his nipple. His hips bucked desperately, trying to obtain some sort of friction to get off on, but Gregory's free hand only tightened on his hip, forcing him to remain still.

Warm lips pressed down on his skin, sealing off the wound but not before a stream of blood managed to leak down Christophe's chest, rippling over ridges of scars down his abdomen. Christophe tried to move, to writhe and demand more with his impatient motions and in defiance to Gregory's casual pace. It only served to dig those teeth in deeper and make the holes bigger, it would certainly look like he was mauled by an animal once Gregory was done. Nothing new there as some of the scars on Christophe were from Gregory, on closer inspection one could identify each one.

Christophe couldn't find his words, couldn't really think beyond the pain tangling with erotic pleasure clouding his mind. It only grew worse when he could feel Gregory's tongue laving over the open wounds as if gloating over his deed. By the time Gregory pulled away, Christophe was panting lightly, hot rushes of air slipping through the metal cage over his lower face. His body shuddered with each exhale, tense muscles outlined his frame, giving away out strong he was and yet it wasn't enough to get his way against the much larger male.

Cruel jade toned eyes look up to meet forest green ones, wanting Christophe to watch him, wanting to be the center of attention as always. He pressed the tip of his tongue into one of the wounds his canine teeth made, forcing more blood to well up and ease out onto that pink appendage. Christophe's eyelids fluttered briefly, letting out a low moan from between his bared teeth, at the mercy of the man beneath him. Such a position should mean Christophe was in control, dominating Gregory, but no such luck here. Gregory wanted to play with his toy and Christophe was perfect to chew on for the alpha.

"Are you going to be a good boy for me?" Gregory rumbled against Christophe's chest, this time pausing to drag the flat of his tongue over the large bite mark over Christophe's right pectoral. "You want to please your alpha, don't you? Tell me, who do you belong to, mutt? Who holds your leash?" Gregory leaned back again, now blood had smeared over his chin but he didn't seem to pain too much mind to it. Instead, he pointedly used the hand previously teasing Christophe's nipple to jerk hard on the leash connected to the collar around Christophe's neck.

"You are." Christophe almost whine, his rough voice wavering slightly. His nature was leaking out under his defiance. "You are the alpha." Christophe didn't tend to beg, but Gregory always had a way of digging under all the layers to pull it out. It was a sign of trust, Gregory would only force Christophe like this only because he knew Christophe secretly enjoyed it in private.

"That's right." Gregory seemed pleased, reaching up to stroke his leather clad knuckles down along Christophe's jawline almost affectionately. Christophe knew better than to be lulled into a false sense of comfort from the gentle touch, Gregory would be far from gentle near the full moon. "As my subordinate, its your duty to obey me. You haven't been a very good mutt lately have you?" Gregory's hand slid back, delving his gloved fingers into those messy brown locks, combing through them and lightly scratching at Christophe's scalp. "Now you need to gain back favor with me."

Christophe gasped as those fingers in his hair tightened, pulling roughly at his scalp and yanking back hard enough to make Christophe arch backwards painfully. In an instantly Gregory attacked without mercy as those already bloodied teeth sank into Christophe's bared throat. Christophe's eyes rolled back underneath his eyelids, his jaw hanging slack in the muzzle as pain flared hotly through his body, making his cock twitch in his boxers. Already a generous amount of pre had leaked from the tip, causing a dark stain to become obvious on the navy fabric. He wasn't the only one excited by this either as Gregory thrust up hard against Christophe's ass, revealing that he was growing just as desperate.

Christophe couldn't move much at all like this, his head pulled back, making his shoulders strain and ache from being pulled back further from the arm binders. Christophe made a sound, wanting to call out Gregory's name but the slightest movement from his throat cause the blonde's jaws to squeeze further, slowly cutting off the flow of air. Christophe didn't struggle, knowing better to even if he could while Gregory's teeth were embedded in his neck. He gave in to the Brit, feeling the hand that had been on his hip slide around the lower curve of his back. Gregory pulled him closer, forcing Christophe to feel the wall of the man beneath him.

Just as Christophe was starting to feel light-headed from lack of air in his burning lungs, Gregory released Christophe's throat. He gasped for air finally, the corner of his eyes watering from the pain and pleasure that was growing more and more intense but it wasn't enough. Christophe wanted more, needed more from Gregory. "Please..." His voice was thin from the abuse his throat had taken, but Gregory paid him little mind as he was like a cat lapping up the blood that oozed from the large puncture wounds. It was almost like Gregory's tongue was busy painting Christophe's skin with blood the way it twirled and prodded, streaking red over scarred flesh.

The hand in Christophe's hair released, sliding down the back of his neck, over his shoulder, slowly down the front of his torso to smear blood further along the Frenchman's body. Finally the tips of those fingers curled into the band of Christophe's boxers, making his breath hitch in anticipation. Christophe expected Gregory to tease him further and pull his boxers down slowly, but Gregory had grown impatient by now, so used to getting what he wanted. What he wanted now was to be inside the French werewolf on his lap. Instead, Gregory yanked hard, tearing the fabric with surprising ease, unlike his usual nature where he took care to put everything in its place. Right now, he just wanted to put Christophe in his place. Nothing else mattered.

The elastic band dug into Christophe's skin, likely leaving an abrasion before it finally snapped. Tattered dark cloth was tossed elsewhere, uncaring as Gregory now had Christophe naked and sitting on top of his lap, bared and vulnerable to him. Christophe was breathing heavily, his eyes already unfocused as he stared back at Gregory who looked like he was seconds away from devouring him completely. A gloved hand curled around Christophe's cock, easing in a light stroke, not wanting to be too rough here without proper lube. It was still enough to make Christophe whine on top of him, a rare sound that was music to Gregory's ears. Only him and Kyle could ever see Christophe completely broken down like this, begging, murmuring in french as he pleaded for more, giving in to the heat of the moment.

Christophe could feel Gregory's thumb press and rub back and forth along the sensitive spot just beneath the crown, teasing him and smearing more of the pre leaking out from the tip over Christophe's length. Christophe tried to jerk his hips, to thrust himself into Gregory's hand, but when he tried, Gregory pulled his hand away. "Behave." He could hear Gregory growl out lowly in a warning, sending a shiver of excitement down his spine and making his cock twitch a little in response. Once Christophe settled back on his lap, Gregory's hand returned, this time rewarding Christophe's obedience with a slow stroke down his length, drawing a long, low moan from the brunette.

With Christophe lost in the burning pleasure building within him, he was unaware of Gregory's other hand reaching to the side table to grab the bottle of lube that had been waiting there for this moment. Gregory used his thumb to flick open the cap and begin to messily pour the lube down over Christophe's cock and his own gloved hand. Christophe bowed his head forward a little as the cool liquid slid over his heated and ultra-sensitive skin, making his swear between clenched teeth. The lube did warm either as Gregory's hand began to stroke more confidently, the strong scent of mint reaching his nose and causing his skin to tingle pleasurably, already too much for him.

Gregory seemed to sense Christophe climbing up in pleasure as his hand begin to pick up speed, but every time Christophe tried to thrust into the strokes, Gregory would pull away until Christophe settled back down on his lap. Sweat began to dampen Christophe's skin as he was forced to remain still while Gregory toyed with him, he was slowly losing his mind. When Christophe grew too close to climaxing, Gregory would tighten his fingers around Christophe's cock to painfully deny the brunette from coming. Christophe's mind was in chaos, dizzy from lust as Gregory had stripped him of resistance until all he knew was Gregory would deem when Christophe could gain release.

Then, Gregory's hand was gone from Christophe's cock, leaving him whimpering pathetically in attempts to convince Gregory to continue. However, Gregory had enough of teasing Christophe, despite the view of Christophe writhing and whining on his lap was addicting. Instead, Gregory slid one lube-slicked gloved finger into Christophe's back entrance without warning. There was no teasing, no gentle massaging. Instead Gregory simply thrust a single digit into Christophe, causing the other male to yelp and jerk, a bit of pre-cum spurting from the tip to land on Gregory's uniform. Gregory couldn't find it in himself to care at the moment, he'd punish Christophe later for it.

Instead, he curled his finger, stroking Christophe's insides just right, watching with heated lust as Christophe arched back, practically howling to the ceiling from the rush of pleasure and Gregory found his prostate with practiced ease. Slowly, he began to move his finger, easing it back before thrusting it back in roughly. Gregory was enjoying watching Christophe quiver and attempt to ride Gregory's finger himself, he could already imagine what it would feel like to be inside the Frenchman. The thought alone was shredding the remained of his patience and spite.

"Gregory, j'ai besoin de toi en moi. S'il vous plaît. Je t'en supplie..." Christophe's words were thick with a moan, of a whine, broken down to his more primal desires. His accent was thick, more apparent than he'd ever let anyone else hear and it drove Gregory mad with need. Exactly what Christophe had intended as his hazy eyes gazed at Gregory with such a strong need that not even Gregory's alpha nature could resist any longer. Gregory pulled his finger out so one hand could hold onto Christophe while the other fumbled with his belt and pants, trying to get them open.

Christophe tilted his head, his body moving restlessly now that Gregory's attention was frayed, doing his best to get relief while unintentionally making it more difficult for Gregory to free himself. Not wanting to be parted from Christophe, Gregory surged forward, his mouth seeking out Christophe's abused throat. He wasn't gentle in the way he nipped and kissed along any patch of skin he hadn't already ruined. All the while he was bending the metal buckle off his belt until it broke under Gregory's strength. The button and zipper fared the same fate in Gregory's desire to get what he wanted. By the time he struggled to get himself free from his boxers, pre was already leaking from the tip and oozing down his aching length.

Not trusting Christophe to truly behave, one of Gregory's hands grabbed at one ass cheek, dragging Christophe further up on his knees so he could hover over Gregory's lap. Gregory took this moment to stroke himself, smearing more lube along himself. While he did enjoy hurting Christophe, there were limits to it and going without lube was something he'd never do to his boyfriend even in this state. He made sure he was well prepped, even if his own touch was making him want to lose what little control he had now over the situation. He left a good deal of lube collected on the tip, even though the mint nature of it send shivers through his body.

Slowly, Christophe felt himself dragged down, no matter how hard he pushed down, Gregory's bruising grip wouldn't allow him. Gregory was in control here and he was teaching Christophe just that, despite how much Christophe tried to take matters in his own hands. Then, he could feel it, the large head of Gregory's cock nudging against his entrance but going no further. Gregory was torturing him, making him wait and suffer, to remind Christophe again and again, to hammer it home that Gregory was the alpha and was to be obeyed completely. Gregory waited until Christophe's head rolled forward again to look at the Blonde's strict, strained face like he wanted.

"Who do you belong to?" Gregory's voice was husky, rough and low with a growl.

"You." Christophe's reply came without hesitation and he was quickly rewarded for his obedience.

Gregory pulled Christophe down hard while at the same time he thrust roughly up into Christophe. Their cried harmonized, echoing through the study. If they had neighbors, they certainly would have heard. Pleasure ripped through Christophe, scorching his body with pure ecstasy. It was intense, overwhelming and threaded with a bit of pain from not truly worked open properly for Gregory's size. His numb fingers attempted to curl, instinctively wanting to cling onto those familiar broad shoulders but unable to do so. Gregory's face was tucked into the crook of Christophe's neck, hot and heavy breaths rushed over Christophe's already heated skin, branding him almost.

Christophe didn't know how long they stayed like that, Gregory stretching him, filling him completely to the point it was difficult to even catch his breath. Once Gregory seemed to collect himself once more, he leaned back into the chair, staring at the brunette impaled on him, looking completely lost in the pleasure. "'Tophe..." Gregory's voice was strained, almost affectionate as his eyes roamed over Christophe's intoxicating form. "Show your alpha how much you love him..." It was a command, a plea almost as Gregory was holding himself back just to continue to make an example out of Christophe.

Christophe was already too eager to give both of them pleasure that he didn't even want to disobey. Using the strength left in his legs, he lifted himself up, sliding Gregory's cock slowly from his backside until just the tip remained. In a small show of revenge, he paused, letting Gregory wait with bated breath before Christophe shoved himself down, forcing Gregory deep inside him once more. Both howled out in their pleasure once more, their bodies shaking, waiting to snap at any moment, waiting to see who broke first. Christophe began to set a pattern, slow but rough and demanding, no longer able to pause but not taking it easy on Gregory for the torturing he'd gone through.

During one raise up, drawing Gregory out, the blonde's hands shot out to catch Christophe's hips once again, denying him from moving. "Enough." Gregory bit out, having enough of this little torture show, he'd watching Christophe's expression twist and turn in utter pleasure and he wanted more. Without waiting, Gregory thrust himself up into Christophe, holding the brunette still as he was already pulling away after that first quick thrust. Christophe's head tipped back, baring his throat in trust and complete submission, in pleasure that he was gaining. Gregory took it as a sign to go ahead, not that he could or would stop himself. Strands of blonde hair was already falling over onto his forehead, losing its once perfectly styled nature to stick to sweaty skin.

Christophe's breathes were ragged, feeling Gregory thrust into him again and again, unable to move, forced to simply lose himself into the ecstasy flooding his mind, dominating over him. Gregory's pace was rough, pounding as he was certain that those hips would leave more bruises on his ass yet again. Christophe didn't care, the aches and pains would be a reminder of this moment, of the complete bliss shared between them. That rush burning through his veins, Gregory's presence and control branding on his mind and skin forever. He could no longer tell where he ended and Gregory began, completely losing himself in the moment as their moans and cries filled the room for what seemed like hours in his mind but knowing neither could go on for that long certainly.

He could feel himself getting closer to that edge, reaching desperately for it as his inner muscles coiled ever tighter around Gregory's cock, making it harder for him to thrust each time but nothing would stop the blonde now, driven by Christophe's begging cries. Then, everything seemed to erupt within Christophe, pleasure completely wiped his mind of everything as his eyes rolled back into his skull. His spine arched back painfully as his cock jerked, letting loose streak after streak of cum hard, lashing out over Gregory's once clean uniform. Christophe's inner muscles spasmed and clenched, driving Gregory over the edge to join his partner in euphoric bliss of an orgasm.

Christophe hadn't even noticed the fact Gregory had lunged forward to sink his teeth into his shoulder during their matching climaxes, far too gone in pure white ecstasy to ever care of the wild and uncontrolled damage being done to his skin. He clung on tight to that high for as long as he could, but it had demanded too much from him, draining him of everything he had. Eventually, Christophe slumped forward against Gregory, panting erratically as he remembered how to breathe once again. He could feel Gregory slowly slump back against his seat, releasing Christophe's shoulder so he could drag over the wounds almost lovingly.

While Gregory had thought to teach Christophe to behave through this punishment time and time again, it really only taught Christophe to misbehave more so he could get this time and time again.

[thefuzziestmoth]

You ever just realize that you don't know how to not be afraid in a relationship because that's the mindset you were forced into for three and a half years and that's how you got taken advantage of for the following year and a half and now it's now and even though all the people who did it are gone you don't know how to unabuse your brain? Or is that just me?

[smokedanced]

on dean winchester/his father being abusive

tl;dr: i play my dean as having been severely abused in his childhood. do not interact if you are not willing to recognize this.

i know this is a controversial subject in the spn roleplay community. i don’t give a fuck if you portray your dean/sam/john with the interpretation that john did not abuse his children and i will not attack you for it. neither will i take hate/shaming on interpreting canon differently. if you disagree with this post, you can still interact with my other muses.

i don’t think john hit his kids. i do think he loved his kids, i don’t think john intended to abuse his kids. but do you know how parental abuse works in real life? parents can be horribly abusive without any intentions of being abusive. this is how i see the case with john. did he try his best? yes. did he still abuse his kids? also yes.

i honestly don’t know how the fuck most people in the rpc even define abuse, but to me, abandoning your underage child for months under the care of strangers because he stole food, is textbook abuse. as is leaving a child to parent his younger sibling, never giving him a chance to be one himself.

honestly, the way dean behaves as an adult, is very in line with how victims of abuse do. my dean isn’t even aware he was abused, until around season thirteen.

also, if you come at me demanding i tag my hc posts about dean’s abusive childhood as john winchester hate, i fully expect you to tag your posts on how he wasn’t abused as abuse erasure. in short: unless you cw tag your unabusive john posts, i won’t tag mine for you. me talking about dean and sam’s abuse is not john winchester hate. i like john as a character, i just would dislike him as a person if he were not fictional.

[purplepeoplelickingtruthpeddler]

Alright y'all. It's been a day. I'm back at it again begging for help.

In the midst of the last week, my dad did a tailspin and started drinking again, and became abusive. He tried to hide it, but it's obvious. This morning it reached a height that was just too much. Fool me once, fool me twice, not a third time. I left him where he was and decided to make a 5 hour drive home alone from San Antonio to Dallas. I was planning to do that trip alone anyways until he decided to come along, whether or not it was a huge step in my disability, because I had to do it to see the only family I have left that I genuinely care about and trust. And the drive home started out generally okay, scary but not as disastrous as I expected, as my disability tells me and lies to me.

If you've read about my recent "adventures" you'll know my ex gave me a concussion a week and a half ago-ish. My dad was going to move in with me and help me with rent. But nope, not anymore. I'm going to go out of the oven and into the frying pan with him. I just... refuse to be hurt by ppl anymore.

I was considering getting a part time job somewhere small that would still be a huge challenge for my disability and but cover some of my rent. I was gonna talk that over with my therapist and evaluate things, because it would mean losing a chance at disability. I was feeling accomplished and strong.

But about 3 hours into my drive home, I got into a car accident. My car was totalled. This only serves to reinforce my Agoraphobia and panic disorder because my worst fears came true. I'm fighting a lot of things right now, PTSD included, and I'm fighting not to let this cause a relapse too. My airbags didn't go off, they somehow were faulty, but I've gotten away with a head and back injury that will only need to be addressed by a chiropractor in time, if I'm lucky, and if it didn't exacerbate the concussion I was already recovering from thanks to my ex. Going to an emergency care clinic again when I get picked up.

I'm gonna have to fight my abusive mom when she picks me up in a few minutes from the tow place where I'm waiting. I've already received texts from my "father" shaming me, as if I got into an accident because I left him there. Minutes after panicking and dissociating on the highway while a cop tells me he's "going to have to list me as at fault because they don't have enough info on the guy who took off behind me", I got texts telling me that if I had just stuck around for that abusive behavior then this wouldn't have happened. Actually I've panicked worse with his driving and his abusive behavior in the last week than I did driving alone. I wasn't panicking when it happened either, which is what I'm holding onto tightly right now so I don't relapse. It was simply bad traffic and bad drivers and construction on the biggest interstate in Texas. I'm fighting a lot internally not to let everything get to me.

I almost killed myself a couple of months ago and everyday for the last week I've covered the self-harms marks with makeup out of shame, and just, plain, fought. Fought to be independent from people like my ex and my dad and my mom. I'm still fighting.

So now half-baked plans for a part time job... I don't even know how. I don't know how I'd get back and forth to work with Agoraphobia and panic disorder and no trustworthy and unabusive friends or family nearby to help give me rides. I legit don't know how I'm going to pay rent in a few days. I don't know how much more can be taken from me and how much lower things can get right now.

So I guess I'm raising money temporarily for rent and now a car. Cashapp is the best way to do that because PayPal isn't good for much practically whereas cashapp has an actual visa card.

My cash tag is $elirria

If any of this doesn't make sense... Idk what to tell you I just got into a car accident on top of disabilities and recent injuries and I'm doing my best. But if you could spread this around or help in any way I'd really appreciate it.

[brandwhorestarscream]

Starscream, for the ask game X3 (I just had to)

Thank you for giving this to me.

Why I like them

Aside from Starscream being the embodiment of sensual, sexy sin (he’s been my Straight Crush Sunday since 2010), I love everything about him? He’s this beautiful, untouchable, unspeakably intelligent killer that, at the same time, is a complete and utter dumbass sometimes? He’s charming in the worst way possible, and yeah, he can be a total slimeball, but this screechy, anxious metal bird still brings me so much joy whenever I see him. He’s sassy, and knows exactly what he wants--and is willing to do anything to get it. I really admire his drive and determination.

Why I don’t

How dare you suggest such a thing

Favorite Episode (scene if movie)

This was kind of a toughie, because there have been so many Starscreams across the ages, but Thirst, from the third season of Transformers Prime was just beautifully done. It focused entirely on the cons and the shenanigans of Starscream and Knockout. 11/10, a great episode.

Favorite Line

Hnnnng, another toughie. I’m gonna have to go with, Literally Everything That Has Ever Come Out Of His Mouth XD I just love listening to Starscream talk. But if I legit had to pick, it would have to be his iconic, “Wanna bet?” from the G1 movie.

Favorite Outfit

All Starscreams are gorgeous, but I’m gonna go with this one:

I just... I really love Cyberverse Scream. He’s such a catty glitch, I love him. He’s like, every other Starscream collectively produced a baby together, and we got this colorful little bird. He’s just. So cute. Also his little, “Why does he always do this to me?!” was too adorable for words

OTP

Oh god you’re gonna make me choose?! Mnnggggrrrfff at the end of the day, I’m Megastar trash

BroTP

The Elite Command Trine. Seriously, I love love love the dynamic the fandom has created for Starscream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp

Head Canon

Pre-War, he was constantly exhausted by royal duties and his studies at the Academy, so every now and then, his trine mates would spirit him away and treat him to a spa day--massages, pedecures, aromatherapy, yoga, the whole nine yards. By the end of it all, Starscream was always too relaxed to stay awake, and so they sneak him back home and tuck him in to get some well deserved rest. Wakes up the following morning feeling refreshed with the both of them smiling down at him. Those were the best days, and some of his most treasured memories... even if he won’t admit it!

Unpopular Opinion

Pffft uuuum he’s perfect in any way, come at me. I’ll fight. Let’s throw down right now XD

A Wish

Let. Him. Be. HAPPY!!!!!! I want Starscream to experience a truly happy life--where he’s allowed to freely pursue his scientific interests without the Council constantly fighting him. He inherits the throne of Vos with grace and dignity, and he rules his fair city with Skywarp and Thundercracker at his sides. He’s happy, prosperous, and Vos is doing exceptionally well. Just. Successful, happy, unabused Starscream.

An oh-god-please-don’t-ever happen

For the love of all that is good, do not let him die feeling like a failure, feeling unloved, feeling frightened or sad or betrayed. Just. Please. Let him be. I know that some Starscreams can’t die, but still. I do not want his last moments in the world to be anything but peaceful. He’s been through enough.

5 Words to Best Describe Them

Screechy nervous backstabber extraordinaire jet

My Nickname for Them

I started referring to him as Starbaby a few years ago? It stuck.

[terriblelifechoices]

My thoughts on Crimes of Grindelwald have not yet hit any level of coherence, so I’m just going to do the drive-by shouty thing and leave them here.  Under the cut, because spoilers.

Warnings: spoilers.  Also unfiltered!Ri.

Things I Loved:

Pretty much all of the characters.  The cast is wonderfully talented, and I feel like they did a lot with what they had to work with.

IDK if this was a good thing or not.  I mean, as a fannish person I have been pretty much conditioned to love media where the cast makes the best of admittedly less than stellar writing, simply because I love the characters.  (See: Stargate Atlantis.  Also, Merlin.)

Newt and Jacob, eternal cinnamon roll squad.  Honestly, if the next three movies were just the two of them hanging out and being adorable cinnamon roll bros, I would basically be that gif from Futurama:

Newt and Theseus.  I just.  I love complicated sibling relationships, okay?  I really do.   I loved that it’s obvious that Theseus really does love his brother.  But he also very obviously doesn’t understand him.  That scene at the Ministry reads a lot like a neurotypical older sibling with a neurodivergent younger one; Theseus clearly thinks that everything would be so much easier if Newt were just a little bit less Newt, and doesn’t really get that Newt can’t.

Newt and Tina.  Oh my god, Newt and Tina.  Tina read Newt’s book.  I mean, I was totally with Jacob on team “don’t say that” when the salamander eyes thing came up.  And then it turned into this lovely way to demonstrate that Tina cares about Newt without beating people over the head.  Also, fire in dark water?  Damn, Newt.  A+ romance, go you.

Pretty much anything with Leta.  Holy shit, Zoe Kravitz knocked it out of the park.

Things That Drove Me Bonkers

Pretty much anything to do with the timeline.  I do not have anything new to say here that the rest of fandom hasn’t already said, so I’m just going to leave it at that and move on.

That fucking Tycho Dodonus prophecy.  Can we all agree that prophecy is a terrible narrative device?  Also, you did that one already, JKR.  Maybe try something new.

Literally nothing about Credence’s backstory -- imagined or otherwise -- made a lick of sense.  Do I buy Lestrange senior sending his infant son out of the country to keep him safe?  Sure.  Do I buy Lestrange senior sending his infant son out of the country to Mary Lou Barebone specifically without having some assurances that his heir would be returned to him unabused?  NOT SO MUCH.

Also, if he’s going to leave his heir in someone else’s care, why not leave Leta, too?  Lestrange senior clearly didn’t want her, being an aristocratic prick with no use for women outside of being how you get babies (preferably male).  It would’ve made a lot more sense to leave both his kids with Mary Lou.

What the fuck was up with Queenie.

Nagini.  I feel like they basically shoe-horned Nagini into the plot as a tie-in to the Harry Potter franchise, and then drastically underused the character.  Claudia Kim is a wonderful actress, and I think she could’ve done a lot more than just have Nagini function as Credence’s emotional support snake lady.

A Dumbledore?  Seriously?  

Mostly, I think that Crimes of Grindelwald was like watching the live action version of someone’s NaNoWriMo novel, where the author’s hit that panicked stage and basically goes, “well, it’s the word count that matters, I’ll go back and edit in plot and pacing later.”  And then no one did any editing.

Honestly, I think the whole thing would have driven me a lot less crazy if the bones of the story weren’t quite so good.  Because man, that movie could have been great.