#rape in fan fiction

[griseldagimpel]

Fan Fiction With Consent Issues

Content Warning: This post talks about fan fiction conventions involving rape and dub con.

I'm writing a meta piece about fan fiction, consent issues, and tagging. I want to run through some common fan fic scenarios, what consent issues they have, and how they ought to be tagged.

(Before anyone responds with Don't Like, Don't Read or Curate Your Space, the meta piece is a guide to tagging. In order for readers to make informed decisions about if they want to read a fic or not, it needs to be tagged properly, and that means that the authors need to know how they need to tag things. I've had multiple instances where I read a fic only to encounter something that really ought to have been tagged for but wasn't.)

The scenarios I have so far are: 'reader knows the character wants the sex but they aren't communicating that to the other character in the scene, 'sex under the influence of drugs/alcohol/sex pollen', 'mate or die', 'sex slavery', 'magical rape by deception', 'coercive sex', 'statutory', 'power imbalances', and 'character being incapacitated (asleep, unconscious, etc)'.

What other common scenarios have you encountered?

My meta piece won't be comprehensive, but I do want it to cover as much ground as feasible.

Edit: 'Un-negotiated/under-negotiated kink', 'implied negotiation', and 'alter egos' have been added to the list. I'm going to keep updating this bit here as suggestions come in. You may not see them if you're looking at a reblog of a reblog, given the way tumblr works, but you can always pop over to the original post to see what the latest list is.

Also on the list:

Cult Brainwashing

Soul Companion Sympathetic Heats (Think Dragon-Riders of Pern)

Disassociating

Omegaverse Heats Overriding Sense

In-story Consensual Non-Consent (How to Tag)

[alwaysjustmina]

Whispers of Rain

Chapter 13: Rain Down on Me

Thank you to @papaslittlesunshine and @midnight-moth for listening to all my nasty thoughts. Thank you to @kamonart for the beautiful artwork for this story.

Fyi This chapter is gonna hurt really bad, please pay attention to the new tags and only read when in a safe headspace.

Again please only read when in a safe headspace! And remember my endgame is always Raindrop!

Read below or on AO3

The dream was more a memory than a dream.

One of the many times Dew and Rain were at a venue on the tour, walking down some deserted hallway deep in the bowels of the facility.  They had been wandering, trying to get lost in the darkened corners, so that they could get lost in each other.  They were at the absolute top of the venue and hadn’t seen another person in well over 15 minutes. Five minutes ago they started holding hands, fingers entwined, doing what they wished their bodies could be doing right now.

The corner they just rounded, led to a dead end, sheltered under stairs to the roof.  If the dust and dirt collected in the corners were any indication, it had been a long time since someone had been here.  It was perfect.  

Rain leaned against the cement wall, foot raised up on the wall bent at his knee.  He watched Dew like a predator watched their prey.  His beautiful eyes half hooded with lust as he followed Dew’s movements.  The slight smirk on his lips evident even more when he licked his lips.  Dew gulped as he watched Rain back, his knees weak.  He was entranced by him, not knowing where to look first, where to touch first.

Dew stood in front of Rain’s relaxed form before he made his move.  Reaching his one hand that wasn’t already attached to Rain’s to rest on his hip, crowding into his body, Rain allowing him.  They watched each other, eyes roving over the others face languidly, their breathing already shallow and getting harder to take in a full breath.  Dew raised his hand from Rain’s hip to his face, running his finger along his strong jawline softly, moving along the edges of his face, tracing his features.  He pushed an errant piece of his black hair behind his ear, laughing as it refused to stay, popping back out.  

“So beautiful.”  Dew mumbled to himself.

“You’re beautiful,” Rain offered back.

“You are more beautiful, how did I get so lucky?”

“Nope I won’t listen to this blasphemy, you are more beautiful, and my word is final.”  Rain’s tone not allowing any further argument.

“Whatever you say, my love.”  Dew smiled at him, before whispering, “Mine.”

“Yours, always, and you are mine.”

Their lips met as they breathed each other in.  The slow pace of lips touching lips, content in the softness of the feel.  Rain’s pillowy smirk softened as he felt Dew trying to pull his bottom lip in between his own.  He acquiesced to his stealthy maneuvers quickly.  He gave Dew entrance, his tongue invading the depths of Rain’s mouth, his hot tongue tracing along Rain’s.  The quickly became entwined in each other, Rain pushing his leg back to the ground and pulling Dew closer to him by grabbing at his hips.  

This wasn’t just sexual attraction, this wasn’t just a heated moment.  This was passion, this was needing the other so badly your heart cracked when you couldn’t be this close.  This was love.  This was everything.  The sigh of mutual contentment leaving both of their mouths as they held each other closer, ensuring that every part of their body had contact with the other.

Their foreheads rested along each other as they pulled apart for a moment to gather their breath. 

“I love you, my Otter.”

“I love you so much, so much, my Selkie.  Forever.”

Dew awoke from the dream/memory, a smile on his lips, remembering how he felt in that moment.  The contentment, the love.  He quickly disentangled himself from Eidolon’s side, he needed to be with Rain right now, to whisper in his ear that he loved him, He was mildly surprised his movement from Eidolon’s side didn’t wake him, he had been such a light sleeper lately anytime Dew had moved.  He grinned in happiness that Eidolon could finally relax enough to finally sleep a little heavier.  Maybe the dark circles Dew saw under eyes would start to dissipate soon.  Enough stalling, he needed to get back to Rain.  He whispered that Eidolon had continued sweet dreams as he quietly shut Eidolon’s door behind himself.

He pushed through the door of his and Rain’s room, the house quiet, the darkness of the outside showing that it was still quite early in the morning.  Crawling into bed beside Rain, the sheets heavy as he lifted them onto his body.  The body next to him quite chilled to the touch as he reached out to snuggle closer, trying to warm him up.  He laughed quietly to himself, Rain was always so cold when Dew wasn’t next to him.  The sound of his light laughter surprised him, trying to remember the last time he had heard it come from his mouth.

“So nice of you to join us, Droplet.”

Dew’s heart stopped beating, his flesh instantly tingled with horror at the sound of Ifrit.  Ifrit here in their room, by himself with Rain, for who knows how long.  He struggled to sit up quickly, trying to shield Rain as much as possible, to protect him however he could.

As Ifrit turned on the lamp beside him he laughed and then spoke, “Oh there is no need to protect him, I’ve already taken care of him.”

Turning his head felt like it was in slow motion as he turned to look at Rain questioningly, then he saw it.  The blood.  Rain looking at him, his eyes glassy but still holding life.  Tears streaming down his face, to mix with the blood trickling from his lips.

“Aether!  Aether!”  He screamed, hoping that the quintessence ghoul could save him again.

“Oh, Droplet.  This is so sad.  I took care of Aether already though, he isn’t coming, neither is little Eidy.  By the way, how could you sleep through that one?  He struggled a little bit, but you looked so peaceful next to him.  He tried to reach out to you.  I tried to tell him that you couldn’t save him but he still struggled.”  

Dew couldn’t take his eyes off of Rain, “Baby, hold on,” he whispered. 

“I also told him the wonderful news, that you are carrying our kit.  He of course didn't believe me, why didn't you tell him so he could celebrate this joyous occasion?”

Dew couldn't bare to look away from Rain's eyes, even knowing he would be able to tell the truth from the shame reflected in his own.

“Droplet, Droplet, Droplet, you aren’t listening to me, he will be dead soon and you and I have one last lesson to teach him before he goes.”

Dew tried to find where all the blood was coming from that was pooling in the bedsheets beneath him.  He could see multiple wounds along his body, the shirt he slept in saturated in blood.  He didn’t know which was the worst, where to apply pressure to, where to help him before he could get someone here.  He didn’t even notice as Ifrit moved across the room to the edge of the bed, he was understandably wrapped up in Rain as he held him close.  Rain’s eyes never leaving his, trying to mouth that he loved Dew and how sorry he was.

“Shhh, don’t speak, preserve your strength, you are not leaving me.”  Tears streamed down his face, his hands covered in blood.

Ifrit pulled Dew’s body from Rain, pouncing on top of him, learning over top of him as he angrily pushed his lips to Dew’s.  When Dew didn’t respond, Ifrit moved from his lips to his neck sinking his teeth in his flesh, biting and tearing his flesh as he bit over and over again.  Dew could feel Ifrit’s length against him, hard and ready.

Please, don’t let this happen.  Please.

He prayed to whomever could be listening. It didn’t help.

Ifrit pulled off of him, ripping Dew’s clothes from his body, before shoving his off of himself.  He lined himself up with Dew’s entrance and prodding along his rim before speaking again.

“You're not going to look at me, while I teach him this lesson, you will watch him, with your arms still wrapped around him, he needs to watch as I take what is mine.  This will be the last time I teach him who you belong to.  The last thing he sees.”

Dew’s eyes searched Ifrit’s face for any remorse, any kindness, but he found none.  His eyes were black, like his heart.

“This will also be the last time I teach you this lesson, Droplet.  You need to remember, you are always mine, always.  No one will ever be able to take you away from me, never save you.”

He pushed Dew’s face to look at Rain, his hand holding the side of his face harshly to the bed.  Dew wondered fleetingly if Ifrit with the pressure of the hold could crack the bones beneath his hand. He didn’t have long to contemplate that as he looked into Rain’s eyes, the pain of the knowledge of what was about to happen to Dew in front of his eyes, prevalent.  The anguish that Rain knew he couldn’t save Dew, that he failed him, again.

Without any prep or lube, Ifrit pushed inside of Dew, tearing a scream from Dew’s mouth as he felt himself tear.  He could feel the sting in his body, as Ifrit didn’t slow down, or care if he was hurting Dew, he pounded into him.  Dew knew he was bleeding, he could feel the abrasions as Ifrit moved inside of him.  Dew didn’t care, didn’t notice the pain.  The only pain he felt was watching Rain, Rain finally knowing Dew wasn’t worth it.  

He quietly whispered, “Rain.”  So quietly betraying the slapping of Ifrit’s body against him.  That one word trying to convey how sorry he was to have pulled Rain into this, that he couldn’t save him.

As Ifrit got closer to his climax, Dew could see Rain’s eyes slowly closing.  He screamed for Rain not to leave him, that he loved him.  Rain tried to grip Dew closer to convey how much he loved him, that he would watch over him always.  That he would find his way back to him if he could.  Life slowly fled from his body though and his grip loosened.  He could hear Dew shouting at him, trying to keep him hear, but he was so tired, he couldn’t keep his eyes open.  The last thing he heard was Ifrit telling Rain how much Dew liked it as he reached his orgasm.  Rain wished one last time he could tell Dew he loved him, but he couldn’t as he died in Dew’s arms.

[incesthemes]

(twirling my hair and giggling) it's soooo cute of dean to cope with his long-overdue metaphorical rape through desperate, indiscriminate violence because he's lost control of himself in the most intimate way possible and the only way he feels he can take back control over his life is by enacting revenge against his rapist. (blushing and hiding my coy smile) it's sooooooo adorable of him to be so overcome with fear of that rape that he almost completely shuts down and becomes singularly focused on revenge because he doesn't have the emotional skills to actually manage the aftermath of his assault and violation. (batting my eyelashes and biting my lip) it's just sooooooooooo endearing that dean finally gets to experience what sam has dealt with for somewhere around a decade and finally understands it all too intimately, and then copes with it so poorly that he puts everyone around him and himself in danger because he doesn't have the emotional maturity to accept his weakness and fear in any healing capacity, and so that weakness and fear tears him apart and nearly breaks him completely until he's holding on by the thinnest of shreds to whatever he has left of himself. teehee 😊💖💖💖💖💖

[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

When I engage with the Silmarilion fandom it’s always very educational and enlightening no matter what side they’re on regarding Finwe and his sons. But whenever I interact with the HoTD fandom it’s always “you’re condoning XYZ and therefore you’re a horrible person!!!” Or doing mental gymnastics to try to justify whichever atrocities their side committed.

Thematically both stories are quite similar. We can find parallels with Rhaenyra and Feanor but even at his worst (Pulling a sword on Fingolfin, First kinslaying, burning of the ships etc.) Feanor had never put a bounty on a toddler (Rhaenyra stating that Maelor should be bought to her dead or alive causing him to be ripped apart. Like hello??!??? How is that ever a justifiable thing to do???). I can find parallels between Feanor and Rhaenyra, sure. But if I’m honest the parallels stop with them being the only child of a kings first wife who’s father then went on to face four more kids with another women. Finwe is ten times the father Viserys was. And literally none of the kids (Feanor included) would ever take their anger out on their siblings child like we see the so called Maegor come again do.

But I digress, I was talking of the fandom. I may get heated talking about whether Feanor was right in his anger at Indis or whether Fingolfin should’ve absolutely demanded more reparations from the sons of Feanor when he crossed the ice. But I’ve never seen anyone in the Silm fandom saying that someone should die because they had an opinion.

But I’ve seen many instances of HoTD fans threatening rape and death on people who think Alicent is not the monster they portray her as, or that Rhaenyra isn’t as ‘girl boss queen slay!!!’ As people say she is. Maybe it’s because HoTD is a TV show and many of the fans haven’t read the books and therefore don’t understand nuance since the TV show focuses so much on Rhaenyra’s manifest destiny arc that team green gets painted as the ‘ultimate’ villain for our girl boss queen Rhaenyra to ascend to the throne since it’s her ‘birth right’.

Not to mention how the whole made up show canon prophecy to justify colonialism means that team black stans are really showing their true colors on what they think is right. Because guess what? The Silm also has what could be said to be as a colonizing story line with the Noldor coming to Beleriand and settling but most fans agree that the cutting up of Beleriand was very much a colonizing behavior no matter what they think of Thingol.

Point is, most HoTD fans can’t hold and intellectually simulating debate over their characters without feeling like said debater is personally attacking them since their entire personality is so deeply entwined with their fav that a critique on them would automatically equate to a critique on themselves. Therefore making it entirely impossible to have a decent conversation on the thematically very important foils that Rhaenyra and Alicent pose to each other (since they still think a good story must have a black and white view of the protagonist and the antagonist lmao).

Media illiteracy in these fandoms truly is a cancer that spreads to even the most level headed and literate individuals. Pick up a book! Understand themes and how foils are supposed to be written without internalizing criticism of your fav as a criticism of yourself! I don’t get mad when people criticize Feanor, nor do I get mad when people say I’m wrong when it comes to my own interpretation of the statue of Finwe and Miriel. It’s called having a discussion and you can only do that when you’re not on the front lines dying for a fictional character who wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire in front of them!!!

[beevean]

the hallmark of Peak Fiction is shoehorning a very serious conversation about a very serious past conflict in an unrelated scene, in the form of snarky banter played for laughs, so that the writer can pretend they listen to audience feedback, while not needing to fully think of addressing the issue and fully sweeping it under the rug because it would be inconvenient to paint the involved characters as dumbasses/vile. Bonus points if it literally goes nowhere and it can be removed from the scene without affecting the flow of the dialogue.

And if it makes me want to eat my own bones because I feel the urge to beat the involved characters to death with a nailed bat, that's just a plus :)

[thlayli-ra]

Stray (part 10)

Characters - CM Punk, Drew McIntyre, Samoa Joe, Gunther, Imperium, William Regal, Blackpool Combat Club

Pairing - CM Punk/Drew McIntyre, CM Punk/Samoa Joe (past)

AU - Stray Au

Rating - Mature

Warnings - ***Rape, non-con, past abuse, blood***

Words - ~3,900 words

Summary - Drew returns to his place of captivity, and remembers...

Drew was hurting bad. Heart pounding, muscles aching, every breath coming in hard and ragged. Fresh blood slid over his hot skin, drenched with sweat. And everything hurt! Just like it always did at this point in the fight. When both combatants were starting to tire in the deep waters, each man balancing precariously somewhere between victory... and death!

The crowd were feral tonight. Voices a riot of high-pitched shrieks blasting in his ears. They were all around him as Drew tried to back away from his opponent, suffocating him, grabbing at him, slapping him on the back and shoulders. Whacking against his open wounds, their palms coming away red and wet.

The chain rattled, dangling from his wrist, connecting him to the man hellbent on slaughtering him. Somewhere in the bout, his opponent had yanked the chain hard and Drew had heard a loud crack. He wasn't sure if his wrist was broken or just badly sprained but he knew his whole hand had swollen up like a boxing glove. He couldn't even curl his fingers into a fist.

His opponent began pulling on the chain tethering them again, luring Drew in like an exhausted fish on a hook. Smiling as he bit down on the hunting knife between his teeth, the same one he'd used to slice through Drew's skin. The Scotsman had been able to fend off any major blows so far but he was growing weary, ground down and hurting. One mistake, one strike through his defences was all it would take.

Drew's bare feet skidded across the floor, failing to find grounding in the macabre tug-of-war. His opponent's features becoming clearer, the mad glee in his eye as he yanked the battered Scot closer. The knife was removed from his teeth and held aloft. A last wrench and Drew was within reach of his blade. A clean stab to the neck and the much larger man would be finished.

But Drew struck first, smashing his forehead against the fragile cartilage of his opponent's nose. A catastrophic headbutt that they ironically called a 'Glasgow Kiss' back home. The other man crumpled in a wail of pain and seeping blood. Drew saw his chance and grabbed up the chain, wrapping it around his foe's neck and pulling it tight.

Tap! His mind screamed, pleaded with the other man. For the love of God, please tap! He couldn't endure another name, another face added to his kill list. Another soul weighing down his guilt. Tap! Please tap! Please!

But his thoughts did not get through to his opponent who went limp in his arms, his face a deep shade of purple. At the first sign of unconsciousness, Drew released him, let him flop onto his back. The MC stepped forward, took one look at the unresponsive fighter and declared Drew the winner to a din of mixed reactions from the mob around him. Some cheering for their wins, other protesting their losses, some baying for Drew's blood themselves.

Yet the whole time, he watched his beaten foe. Waiting for movement. Breathe! Breathe!

A hand pressed against the middle of his chest and pushed him back. Pushed him away from the limp body before he could confirm there was still a pulse beating within it. Wheeler Yuta quickly unlocked the metal cuff from around Drew's puffy wrist then grabbed his arm and escorted him away from the growingly agitated crowd.

'Good fight,' Yuta hushed out softly. 'Good win.' Drew liked Yuta, he was a good kid, but he could already see the change taking over him. The bruises on his face like a poison slowly sinking in. The other members of the Blackpool Combat Club had a particularly nasty method of hazing their newest recruits. They said it was to toughen them up, but really it was to bring them in line. Softness and sympathy were not welcome traits in their gang.

Drew looked forward to returning to his cell downstairs, where hopefully a warm meal and his bunk would be waiting for him after the medic had stitched him up. However, he wasn't ushered towards the side door leading to the steps, instead he was taken to Mr Regal's table.

Fingers of terror gripped the Scotsman. What did Regal want with him? Had he been disappointed with his fight? But... Drew had won! It had been a tough battle but he had come out victorious, that had to count for something, surely? His heart kicked like a mule against his ribs as he was lead up into Regal's private booth and came to a halt a foot from the large table, laden with fine food and drink. Instinctively, he sank down onto his creaking knees, his head bowed low for his master.

'That'll be all, Yuta.' The soft grip left his shoulder with a squeeze and Drew had to stop the terrified whine from bubbling up his throat. He began to tremble, a feeling like a noose tightening around his neck.

'Is this him?' Another voice piped up. One that Drew had never heard before.

'This is the man in question,' Regal answered, his voice flowing with easy charm. 'Scotsman. Six foot five and two hundred and sixty five pounds. Dark hair. Blue eyes.' Why was he reeling off his attributes like that? Like he was selling a used car?

'Can I have a closer look?'

'Be my guest.'

Drew heard a sharp whistle and glanced up to find a grim-faced man pointing to the floor in front of him. Realising he was being beckoned over, the Scotsman went to stand when the stranger shook his head. 'No, don't get up.'

Drew didn't understand. He turned to Regal for help but the Englishman was glaring sternly at him. Do as you're fucking told! So Drew did what he thought he was being told. He crawled on all fours! Ass up, back arched, like a whipped dog. Feeling a burning in his cheeks from the humiliation.

'Good boy.' The stranger's mocking made it worse.

Drew struggled, his bad wrist was weak and unable to support him on one side. No matter what he did he couldn't hide it. The stranger immediately clocked the injury but said nothing.

Once he'd reached his destination, Drew's chin was grabbed and tilted back. The large man loomed above him, menacing. 'Hmm, pretty,' he noted, his tone cranking up Drew's dread. A thick thumb wormed its way between his lips, pushed down on his bottom teeth to open his mouth up wide for him to inspect. Now Drew was starting to panic!

'Is he well behaved?' the man asked as he poked his fingers down the back of his throat, making him gag.

'Hmm-mm,' Regal nodded, taking a sip of his red wine. 'Very. We haven't had any trouble from this one. He's a good fighter too, strong and-'

'I don't need him to fight,' the man interrupted. Then what? Drew pleaded internally, what do you want with me?

'Stand,' the man commanded and Drew shakily got up to his feet, silencing any grunts of pain as his fresh wounds flared. However, he had no such luck with his heartbeat, which drummed loudly in his chest.

A pounding that became deafening when large hands stroked down his flanks and rested on his hips. Drew flinched when the fingers hooked into the waistband of his fight shorts and yanked down, dragging them all the way to his ankles. Quickly, he covered himself with his bloodied hands but both of his wrists were captured in a vice-like grip and torn apart. 'Hands behind your back!'

The fire in Drew's cheeks roared red hot as he glanced around the audience looking on, piqued by that morbid curiosity that afflicts all animals when they spy one of their own being devoured by a predator. On one side was Regal and his two right-hand men, Mox and Claudio, while on the other, Regal's guest had two men of his own, one blonde, the other bald. Six pairs of eyes on him, twelve eyes staring as the man's large hand slid between his legs and cupped his genitals in its palm, feeling the weight of them like they were a sack of gold.

'Yes, very nice.'

A shriek tore through the air, making Drew jump. The man had shoved back his chair and was now getting to his feet, Drew's cock and balls still trapped in his grasp. He stood to his full height, only an inch shorter than the tall Scotsman and locked his fierce eyes onto Drew's startled blues. He said nothing, only began to knead the fragile flesh in his hand and watched as his victim squirmed.

Then slapped Drew hard across the face!

The Scotsman reeled from the blow, grunting as the hold on his groin tightened, forcing him to keep his feet.

'What are you going to do?' The stranger asked with a mocking sneer. 'Are you going to hit me back?'

Slowly, Drew turned his face back around, teeth grit and intense blue eyes glistening through the threads of his long, damp hair, glaring defiantly. Betraying the fact that Regal had oversold just how 'well-behaved' his prisoner was.

The stranger squeezed him viciously between the legs, giving a slight twist to remind the Scotsman he had full control over him. Drew ruefully backed down and kept his clenched fists behind his back, trying to ignore the stranger's other hand wrapping around him to stroke down his shoulder blades, finding the groove of his spine and following the trail down, down, down.

'Has he...' the man paused, mulling over his words, '..been broken in already?'

Regal didn't even look up from his meal as he asked Drew, 'have you ever been fucked up the arse?'

Drew gaped, blue eyes wide and round with shock. Thinking of nights when the drink had flowed too freely among the guards, when they huddled together and chose a cell at random. It often took two or three to hold him down while another-

Drew lowered his head in shame, lifted up his fist. Gave an anguished cat paw.

'What was that?' the man asked, suspiciously.

'He said yes,' Regal explained matter-of-factly. 'We don't permit our prisoners to speak. Instead they must learn sign language for when we need them to communicate. British sign language. That way they can't go spilling their sob stories to some nosy, sympathetic yank.'

'I see,' the man replied, thoughtfully. 'So he doesn't speak?'

'Shouldn't do. Is that a problem?'

The grim lips tightened. Considering.

The hand holding his genitals finally let go. Only to lightly grab hold of his injured wrist and coax it from behind his back, bringing it up to Drew's chest height. With one hand on Drew's wrist, the other seizing him by the base of his fingers, the stranger slowly twisted the inflamed hand. It began to throb, it took all of Drew's fortitude not to let the discomfort show. Nothing more than a slight twitch of his eye.

But the man continued, prising Drew's swollen hand further back. The pain grew, getting worse until Drew couldn't hide it anymore, his lips pursing, the bridge of his nose crinkling. Yet, still he kept on winding it back on itself, cold eyes boring into his, waiting, knowing he would get the result he wanted if he was only patient.

And finally, when he snapped Drew's injured hand back at a terrible angle, the stranger won his victory. Drew let out a wail of distress as the pain shot through his entire arm. As soon as he did, his wrist was released and Drew fell to his knees, clutching his throbbing hand to his chest protectively.

'No. It's not a problem at all,' the stranger replied to Regal's earlier query, smiling down at the quivering Scot at his feet. He barked out an order in a foreign language and the blonde man stepped forward, placing a black briefcase on the table and sliding it across towards Regal, who opened it eagerly. 'As we agreed.'

'A quick inspection, if I may?'

'Go ahead. If you don't mind me doing the same.'

Thick fingers entangled in Drew's hair and yanked him up to his feet. He was shoved belly first onto the table, the hand in his hair holding his cheek flat against the hard wood while, behind him, the stranger wetted two of his fingers in his mouth.

Panic grabbed hold of Drew and shook him viciously. Trying to snap him out of his stupor while a huge thigh punched between his legs and drove them apart. Everybody was watching, everybody was looking. Not even Claudio had the decency to turn away as his cheeks were split open and a chunky, slick finger probed between them.

Except Regal. The one man he needed to look at him at that moment.

The finger forced its way in and Drew squealed.

Still Regal refused to look his way.

He had to get him to look at him!

Drew freed his hand trapped beneath him and loudly rapped his knuckles against the tabletop until his master glanced up from the stack of money in the briefcase towards him. Pinned facedown, Drew couldn't get the full motion he needed but he was able to get his point across. His flat palm, flying from his chest like a bird. A finger pointed at Regal, making the sign of a 'x' in the air.

'Yes,' Regal said, closing the case with a snap. 'I did promise you your freedom, didn't I?'

Drew's blue eyes looked up pleadingly at his master, gasping as another finger probed deep inside of him.

'But I thought you would have figured it all out by now.' Regal nodded to Mox and Claudio, the pair of them turning to leave. Drew's breathing quickened, heaving his shoulders in short, terrified pants as Regal cocked his head down at him. 'This is the real world, petal. Nobody keeps their promises!'

And he left.

Closing the door to his private booth as Drew was brutally broken in by his new master.

'This the place?'

Drew blinked back to reality and looked ahead. As soon as he spied the large chain link fence, he felt a stab of fear. Taking in a deep breath to help him focus, he lifted his fist.

Cat paw.

'Ok,' Joe was working on his breathing too but to his credit, nothing else gave away his nerves. His hand curled around the steering wheel was rock-steady, his brow lowered and his jaw clenched. A man who was no stranger to a fight, and knew on his best day, he could beat anybody.

But this wasn't just any ordinary fight. Punk's life hung in the balance.

'So what's the plan?'

Drew flicked his finger between them and drove his open palm forward towards the fence. We go in.

'Both of us?' Joe turned to him, narrowing his eyes.

Drew heaved in another focusing breath. He gave a determined nod of his head.

'Fine,' Joe cut the engine then reached down behind his seat, retrieving a hefty crowbar. Drew gaped at the weapon, wondering if Joe always kept him with him, or had grabbed it specifically for the rescue mission. 'Let's go.'

The pair of them got out of the car and crept through the shadows towards the large, looming barricade. Making sure the coast was clear, Drew scaled the fence and leapt down onto the other side. Turning around, he expected to find Joe following suite but the other man was busy jamming his crowbar into the chain locking the gate tight. With a grunt, he tore the metal apart, the chain slumped to the floor and Joe casually walked through the gate.

'I prefer to keep my feet on the ground,' he stated.

The two men then took in the sight of their next predicament. A strange building stood before them, a huge slap of cold grey concrete. A ladder lead up to a door halfway up its facade with a walkway winding around the side of the circular building.

'What is this place?'

Drew ignored the question and pushed on ahead. He didn't know what the building was once used for and didn't care. All that mattered was that it was currently where they were holding Punk.

And where they had held him too!

Grabbing hold of the ladder, he climbed up, finding a hefty padlock on the door. Once Joe had heaved himself up onto the walkway, his crowbar made short work of the lock and the door swung open, squeaking on its rusty hinges. Beyond, there was nothing but black shadows.

Drew's nerve failed him.

It must have shown because a big hand squeezed his shoulder. 'Stay here and keep watch,' Joe told him, giving Drew an out. 'I'll go in.'

Drew answered with a resigned sigh and quivered his head. Lifting up both hands, he crooked his index fingers and touched them to the corner of his eyes then down. Be careful!

'I'll watch out,' Joe reassured the Scot before stepping into the darkness and out of sight.

Drew felt like his heart was trying to escape out of his mouth. He'd been fine coming back, nervous yes, but the sight of the fence and the building hadn't fazed him since he'd only really seen them for the first time when he had escaped. But as soon as the door opened and he got that first whiff of stale, damp air, all the terror and pain had come crashing back.

Life as Regal's gladiator had been brutal, but every minute of being Gunther's slave was a waking nightmare. Memories of being locked up, practically naked, in a cold, cramped cage. Isolated entirely from the world around him, days flowing into one another until time meant nothing at all. Reduced to little more than a dog with the collar around his neck and the muzzle covering his face. Abused and beaten and flogged and raped repeatedly. Used for whatever sick purpose his master desired, completely at the mercy of his sadistic whims.

He'd fought back at first, but he was outnumbered, three dangerous men to one, and they always managed to overpower him. One day, he'd found the courage to rip off his collar and threw it at Gunther's feet, spitting a large glob of saliva onto the so-called General's polished shoes.

He paid a heavy price for his insolence. His master was overcome with blinding rage and Drew was beaten so badly he was certain he would be killed. Even his captors believed they had murdered him, going as far as to call in Thatcher to dispose of his body, however, to Drew's great dismay, he regained consciousness. They had left him alone in the cage for several days afterwards, perhaps hoping he would pass on quietly but the Scotsman refused to die. Once he'd recovered enough from his injuries, the abuse began again. Only this time, Drew stopped fighting back.

And he never dared remove his collar again.

Time wore on and the spirit that had burned inside of Drew sizzled out like a flame in a rainstorm. Where courage and pride had once been, fear and dread took its place. And hopelessness. Dark, empty hopelessness.

Until the day he dangled from the hook in the centre of the room, and made an incredible discovery - his cuffs were loose! Giddy with terrified excitement, he wriggled his hands loose. A new-found strength, borne from the promise of liberty, fuelled his limbs as he yanked at the fetter around his ankle, somehow managing to snap the chain in half and Drew dashed for the door. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his calf, he ran and ran and ran, until his lungs collapsed and his legs soon followed and he found himself lost in a raging storm, alone and terrified. Knowing his kidnappers were on the hunt and following his scent.

But then a stranger found him.

Soft fingers, long and slender, reached out to help him when nobody else did. Their feathery touch unfastened the clasps of his muzzle and tenderly removed Drew from its foul grip. As those wondrous fingers threw his own personal cage away like trash, Drew had spied letters inked into them, spelling out a word he knew so well. A word that he had become nothing more than a fantasy, a figment of his imagination that he could never hope to cling to.

Free!

Drew read them as a sign so when the stranger mentioned something about hot coffee and warm muffins, he took a chance. 'It melts in your mouth, I swear.' A promise! Even though Regal's words swarmed Drew's mind - 'nobody keeps their promises' - he accepted the offer and went with the stranger back to his apartment.

Those tender fingers were strong. They carried the injured Scot the whole way back, never once hurting him but never once threatening to drop him. He'd felt safe in their grasp, the first time he had felt safe in years. So many years!

And when he arrived at the apartment... Drew ate the best damn muffins he had ever tasted in his whole life! They did indeed melt in his mouth.

It was something so small and insignificant. Punk probably had no idea of the importance of those two little words - 'I swear' - but it meant everything to Drew. Despite a bellyful of gooey muffins, hot coffee and a fluffy blanket around his shoulders, Drew felt the greatest warmth radiating from his chest. A spark reigniting the furnace of his soul. All because of a promise kept.

As the night wore on, Punk fulfilled more of his promises. 'I'm not gonna hurt you!' He didn't take advantage of him, even when Drew succumbed to his conditioning and crawled on all fours to show his appreciation for the meal. He never touched him inappropriately in the showers or molested him while Drew slept.

'You're safe with me'. When nightmares had driven Drew from his slumber and he'd awoken in the strange room, forgetting for a moment where he was, Punk had allowed the Scotsman into his bed and held him close, chasing the terrors away during the hours of darkness. For the first time in... he didn't even know how long, Drew had slept, peacefully and deep. With Punk's tender fingers stroking his hair, soothing him with their gentle touch.

By the following morning, Drew had fallen in love with those two inked hands. A quick glance over the rest of the man who possessed them, with the distinguished grey in his beard, green eyes that blinked shyly whenever their gazes met and his soft, muscular body adorned with beautiful frescoes, and Drew concluded there were fewer pictures of perfection in the world.

Yet here he was, standing on the outside, waiting around like a coward.

'As long as I'm still breathing, I’ll never let them take you. I can promise you that.'

Punk was in this ordeal all because of him. Because he'd made a bold pledge to Drew and just like he had done for every other oath he took, Punk had set out to fulfil it. However, when he had not returned after promising Joe he would be right back, Drew knew something terrible had happened. When he'd discovered the muzzle missing from Punk's dining table, he realised the horrifying fate that he had wriggled free from now had Punk in its coils.

Drew breathed in slow and long, bunching his fists up tight. Lifting his head, he forced all the fear down to grab the handle of the door.

And went inside to save the man he loved!

To be continued...

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[hunny-l]

I've seen a lot of people doing this so I also decided to do it

My name is London

I'm light skin but both my parents are black

I'm born March 13th so I'm a Pisces

My roblox is (imgettingrippedddddd)

Some fandoms that I'm in off the top of my head are

Mha

Supernatural

Coryxkenshin

Fnaf

Resident alien

Disney

The boondocks

Supernanny

JJK

Steven universe

Etc

And more

Only thing I don't like is incest, stepcest, scat or like shit, barf, murder, gore like someone fuckin an eye socket

I like shopping

I like science and weird experiments like mold

Fav movies are 9, the nightmare before Christmas, frankieweeine,

Monster high, Bratz 2000 sleepover and mean girls, clueless and kubo, the darkest minds, 9, the nightmare before Christmas, Frankinwinnie,

Fav shows are resident alien, young Sheldon, one on one, the Parkers and moesha, the boondocks, supernanny, Steven Universe Chowder, The amazing world of gumball, Adventure time, the imperfects,

[nymphpriestessvalkyrie]

Maybe before you charge in white-knighting how people may or may not speak about survivors of sexual assault, consider whether it’s possible if you are actually addressing one.

If they are female-presenting, the odds are decent that you are actually not protecting anyone and are instead telling someone how they may and may not speak about their own lived experience.

Food for thought.

[griseldagimpel]

Thoughts About rape and dub con in fan fiction below the cut.

Okay, due to the meta piece I'm working on, I'm thinking a lot about fictional depictions of rape and dub con.

And with rape, it's been written about extensively that an appeal of rape fantasies stems from shame about sex. Readers grow up being told that they're dirty bad wrong for having sexual desire, so they read a story about an ingenue who's totally a Good Girl (tm), so it's Not Her Fault when the ripped pirate king kidnaps her and gives her sixteen orgasms.

But with those stories, there's still the unavoidable fact that the ripped pirate king is still a rapist. The ingenue might have sixteen orgasms and magically no trauma (or maybe a little bit of trauma for the angst that is resolved when the pirate king realizes he really loves her), but he's still a rapist.

Enter dub con. And okay "dub con" has a wide variety of meanings, but a lot of manifestations are sometimes convoluted scenarios where no one's at fault.

There's still the ingenue and the ripped pirate king, but oh, he only gave her those sixteen orgasms because he'd been dosed with sex pollen. Or was being mind controlled. Or was an alpha who'd gone into rut and needed to mate or he'd die. Or or or. A thousand scenarios the author can construct where none of the characters have to admit to wanting sex but no one's to blame.

In conclusion, society traumatizes a lot of people for having sexual desire, doesn't it?

[winniewings]

Her name is Sarah : Part 1 (Bucky Barnes)

Pairings : Bucky Barnes x original female character 

Warnings : Past rape, protagonist was sexual abuse victim, past abuse, scars, blood .

Summary : Who could say that a normal night walk would change Bucky Barnes life forever, when he finds a distressed woman with blood stained clothes seated next to a New York's street dust bin , holding her naked newborn baby in her arms staring at the blue eyed man with her vulnareble hazel eyes.

Part 1 

A seemingly quiet night walk of Bucky was harboring someone else's loud pain, and that he did not know when he was walking down the street with both his gloved hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket. He took a peek above at the velvety sky and spotted a large full moon's mockingly gorgeous features greeting him while he penetrated the depths of a narrow street. His super soldier's senses quickly activated as he saw someone's barefoot moving on the farthest corner of the street, right behind one of the large black dustbins. As an immediate response, he pulled his gun out from his pocket and carefully approached the spot taking slow former assassin's steps with his arm extended ready to shoot... if the need arises. As he got closer, he allowed his brow to furrow, realizing that this was a woman's toes... delicate feminine flesh and bone moving very gently a couple of feet away from his orbs... He did not let his guard down and kept the gun ahead of his body.

When he was a step away from the creature that had aroused his curiosity on another level, his mind shook for a second hearing the sobs of said lady…what really broke his mind wasn't this sound but the sound of a baby's scream-crying.

He could wait no longer and came in front of his target with a brisk but sharp move, pointing his gun at her... however, lowering it as soon as he saw who it was… a disheveled brutally beaten young woman in a light pink nightgown carrying a naked newborn baby in her arms, staring at Bucky with horror as a result of him aiming the weapon at her face while tears streamed down her cheeks under the yellow street lights.. What got Bucky's attention was the woman's one of a kind bright amber eyes when he was staring at her shocked to see her there in such condition.

She was criminally beautiful, even the pool of salty water drawing her eyes couldn't hide the light that emerged from the color of her orbs. What really pulled the former Soviet assassin's ground like a carpet was her state. She was utterly worn out and her face was flushed, with her hair covered in thick layers of sweat and arms in dirt. Then, his eyes fell on the small umbilical cord still attached to the baby that she was holding.

"The baby was only a few days old? Or a couple of weeks… but he is so pink" he thought I'm the baby from a distance.

With every second that was passing, his brain cells were getting caught up in the confusion's net. The scene that really shook every bone and muscle of his body was when he saw your lower half, clothes stained with blood… red hot fluid streams that flowed freely on her legs, that he could see because her nightgown barely reached her knees.

After seeing this, his horrified blue eyes met her honey ones. He read a message written in them, wordlessly she was begging this unknown man for help... urgent aid for her and her newborn son.

"I'll call the ambulance" He declared and did so, without wasting any more time, that he could tell that he had surely wasted processing what he was seeing because it was getting harder for the young lady to breathe with every passing minute.

After he had made the call, he placed his gun back in his pocket and slowly crouched down to her level, very carefully as he did not want to scare her further. After taking a better look at the baby, he realized that the small human was still covered in some white creamy stuff, like it had just been out of its mother's womb only some hours ago, maybe minutes ago… but then... What on earth was he doing here? In the hands of this bleeding beautiful woman in front of the street's trash can? Maybe…she was his mother?

Bucky supported his torso's weight on his thigh placing his elbow there and brought his face closer to the vulnerable female, whose wounded face he closely inspected , finding rashes all over her countenance, a violet eye, then a red one and some deep scratches from where thin droplets of dry red fluid were glued to.

"What happened? Why are you here ?" He managed to ask , placing his hand on her bare upper arm, that made the lady open her mouth widely in shock tainted with horror, becoming breathless in less than 3 seconds petrified feeling the man's touch.

Well that response was due to the fact that no one… but one man…had touched her in the last 20 years. For 20 years, she had never felt no one else's physical contact but that of that bloody man. And that too wasn't for a good reason.

Buck immediately took his hand away from her skin, apologizing for his concerned move assuring her that he had no wrong intentions and saw that the opposite sex was calming down however …just a tad.

The leakage of blood from her body was largely the reason for making her eyelids heavy as her weakness was increasing, due to the agony of physical suffering mixed with her emotional pain.

" Please, don't close your eyes, the paramedics are on their way" Bucky pleaded the woman, whose body was falling prey to unconsciousness and the crying baby in her hands landed on her tender bosom the following second.

"Careful!.. the baby!" He exclaimed when her back rested on the dust bin's wall and her eyes began blinking after large intervals of damned seconds.

Bucks hand protectively approached the baby's soft head to prevent it from getting hurt by any brisk move, making him realize how small the creature was, and one more thing caught his eye... she was wearing nothing underneath her gown, nothing to support her breasts, that showed its perfectly pointy shape through the garment.

At that moment, the man's lungs breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he heard the ambulance's siren coming closer to them.

" They're here! Hold your baby tight! " He said, and she obliged , before he scooped her body in his arms along with her baby who was safe in her embrace and lifted her up.

His eager steps paused when his eyes fell on the ground, on the same spot from where he had picked her up . There was a large dark red circle marked, most probably the source of it being her heavy pouring of vital fluid, that he had initially underestimated…because her garment ( waist down ) was fully drenched in blood.

Bucky carried her in bridal style to the ambulance's stretcher, that the paramedics were preparing and rushed her to the hospital.

The lady was taken to the emergency ward and her baby was driven to the pediatric ward. By that time her youthful breaths had run out in front of Bucky's bare eyes and his heart broke even more when they grabbed the baby from her unconscious limbs to take him to a separate unit while sounds of the sharp ambulance's siren were getting further away from his puzzled body, standing in the corridor of the emergency unit.

Notes: hi guys ! this is a new story , i hope you like its start. Its angsty in the beggining , but the ending will be a happy one . Slowly , i will reveal the full story of the female protagonist and the journey too will be a positive one of overcoming the emotional and past obstacles. I just wanted to write a story in which Bucky has tender moments with the baby , maybe father like scenes . Also , i want the proagonist to fall in love with bucky .I am a mess guys, please tell me if i should continue this story.

please, please let me know in the comments bellow if i should continue it or not. If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know .

[leverythingbluel]

New headline: Woman tries to explore Rick and Morty content on tumblr, instantly regrets it.

[waveofahand]

Chapter 47: “Tearing out the Jagger Temptation”

In Chapter 47 of “Hello, Goodbye”:

Things are getting better between John and Paul. They couldn't have gotten much worse. But as we saw in the last chapter, things are beginning to mend between them, thanks in no small part to John Lennon realizing he needed to step up his game and John Dawson's helpful letter to Paul. He has a lot to say in his diary -- and the time, finally, to say it. Let's just say he's a man in love.... You can read it at A03. 

[anonymousleekao3]

Attention to Detail.

This is filth. This has no redeeming qualities. This is porn without plot. I cannot tell you how decadent and glorious it felt to write no holds barred; not to worry about what anybody thought; and just to go to town on an unsuspecting, blank sheet of paper.

Brock does hold onto some bars, but only just.

Heed the tags, wastrels.

This has been up for a while now, and I honestly didn't think it would find an audience, but apparently it has, and I am forever grateful for the comments and kudos which keep me attempting to improve.

[altschmerzes]

always good to remind oneself that it is always an option to simply block and ignore people who are being Weird To You on your posts. it is never necessary to engage. If It Sucks Hit Da Bricks.

[oopsallfanfic]

Tsukishima: Runaway

TW: Rape/Non-Consent

A/N: The contents of this short story may be graphic for some readers, if you don't feel comfortable reading about rape/non-consensual relations please stop reading when you see the bolded word "Each". This word indicates the beginning of a passage that may be uncomfortable to read, please continue on "Despite".

The Tsukishima family was a well-known Japanese family, the father oversaw his family's hospitality business which owned hotels and spas all over Japan with contracts out of the country. By all means the family was wealthy and well off, but this also meant their children had to be pristine when they stepped out into the world. The mother’s responsibility was the house, she’d manage the hired help that tidied the home and tutored her children. The eldest Tsukishima boy was a shining example for his younger siblings, blazing a pathway of success for them to follow. The middle Tsukishima girl was silently obedient in front of her family, her grades and attitude rarely falling below expectations, or else the consequences would be severe. The youngest Tsukishima boy was observant and reserved in front of his family, always afraid to step out of bounds when it came to his parents' watchful eyes. 

Tsukishima Kenzo, the youngest child at 15, was a kind soul in an unkind environment. He was never able to flourish to his full potential under the watchful eye of his father. His mother adored him most, but even she submitted to her husband's orders. Any idea of taking piano lessons or taking an interest in painting would end swiftly. If his father caught him having interests outside the family business and school it would be belittled and shamed. After Kenzo’s older brother decided to pursue politics, he was next in line to inherit the family business since it wouldn’t go to his older sister. It was a taboo idea already that the second son would inherit such a responsibility, but the title was handed down graciously from his older brother. From a young age, Kenzo would experience the pressure that came from such a position in life. 

Tsukishima Chinami, the middle child at 19, was known for getting into trouble or acting unladylike when she was a child. Her nanny would be the 3rd harshest reviewer of Chinami’s behavior behind her parents. By most normal family standards she was just a bit clumsy but otherwise a child, for the Tsukishima’s she was a nuisance. Though as she grew older she became accustomed to the position she held in the family, learned when to shut her mouth and when to speak. The trauma of growing up in such a way stuck with her until she was much older. 

Tsukishima Junta, the oldest at 27, was the golden boy. Farther along in his life than the other two children, Junta is the youngest House of Representatives member in history and was well on his way to making it as the youngest cabinet member. Though his positions were acquired through less savory means, his political agenda bolstered his voice only marginally enough to get a few glances from most of the cabinet and other representatives.

Being the middle child between two brothers meant that Chinami would inherit nothing from her family except the prospect of a good marriage match. Every activity that she participated in was planned in advance in order to make her seem more valuable to a suitor. A particular night in Chinami’s life would alter the planned course, derailing her parents' plan completely. Being the daughter of a high-profile family was already hard enough, but when a scandal arises it’s bound to stir trouble amongst investors and patrons of the many hotel and spa properties they owned.

One night after a late evening of partying with her friends Chinami found herself alone on the streets. She steadied her drunken shaky legs before continuing her trek down the sidewalk, noticing a few young men would walk in her pathway she decided to veer closer to the buildings to avoid running into them. She was too inebriated to notice the lingering looks they gave her and the mischievous eyes that flooded every inch of her bare skin. They nudged each other as they came closer to Chinami and acted before you got too far past them. Each of them grabbed an arm and tugged her into the nearby alleyway, not even fazed as she kicked and screamed at them. The young men held Chinami between them with her legs carried by one and arms by the other, each pumping themselves in her body. They spat obscene comments at her as she cried out in pain, claiming she liked the attention they were giving her. Why else would you be wearing that skirt and walking towards us? The blood dripping down her thighs and ass matched the stream of black tears lining her cheeks. Despite her crying no one came to her aid, and no one heard her call for help. If they did it was likely they ignored the scene. Except one. Chinami with her eyes closed in pain and the young men blissfully enjoying the torment didn’t notice the flash of a camera down the alleyway.

Chinami would return home quietly where she would scrub her body of the grimy hands that touched her, and rinse the fluids that found themselves in all sorts of places. She’d lay in bed all night without a wink of sleep, the chirping birds outside her window let her know when it was an acceptable time to get up. When Chinami crawled out of bed finally, she made her way to the dining table that was slowly being set up for breakfast. She sat down best she could in her usual seat as the maids and cooks set up the table around her. When the table was set and breakfast was served she hardly wanted to look at the food sitting out before her. The fluffy egg omelet on its plate made her stomach turn at the sight, even the coffee she loved tasted burnt and bland. It was an unusually long time before her family joined her for breakfast, startled to see her up so early at the table. Tsukishima Gendo, her father, had a displeased look on his face as he sat at the head of the table, pressing the tips of his fingers together and closing his eyes before turning to his daughter. 

“What the hell were you thinking last night?” Gendo’s deep voice shook Chinami, afraid to even answer him. “It was almost too late for me to stop the news from circulating that my daughter is a voyeur whore, letting herself up to anybody in a back fucking alley.”

“It wasn’t-”

“I don’t care what you think, shut your mouth so I can finish what I’m about to say,” Gendo rolled his shoulder back and leaned into his chair. “I’ve arranged it so the story won’t break, your little photo will never see the light of day.”

“Photo-”

“What did I say?” Gendo flashed Chinami an irritated look as he interrupted her for the second time.

“Best to listen dear,” Tsukishima Junko, her mother, said in a warning tone. The look on her face led Chinami to believe that Junko wouldn’t have her side even if she told the truth.

“You’re going to marry soon, we’ve already arranged for the suitor to visit tonight,” Gendo continued, grabbing his cup of coffee to bring to his lips. “So it’s best you look presentable for the Todoroki family, understand?”

Chinami nodded silently, a pain welling in her chest as her eyes became bloodshot.

“Mr. Todoroki is quite handsome,” Junko added with a sly smile, “I think you’ll be pretty happy with our choice if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you, Father, Mother, for making such a wonderful choice in husband for me,” Chinami felt her tears would soon break the dam of her eyelids. “I’ve already eaten my fill for breakfast, may I be dismissed?”

Gendo nodded with a grunt, giving her permission to leave the table. As Chinami rounded the corner and entered the hall she allowed the tears to silently fall down her cheeks. The bleariness blocked the sight of her youngest brother making his way down the hall for breakfast. Kenzo wanted to reach out to his older sister as she passed him but thought otherwise because of her emotional state. He learned early on that a woman’s time of the month was very sensitive so when he saw his sister in a state, he’d steer clear. 

In the moments before meeting her future husband, Chinami understood 2 clear truths. 1) Her parents never loved her like they should and never would, meaning they would never believe her even if she told them she’d been raped. 2) She would also never be happy in the home she grew up in, much less the home of a stranger she was engaged to be married to without ever seeing his face. Tsukishima Chinami found herself in a situation where she would have to choose to stay unhappy in the life someone else has chosen for her or go out to find happiness herself. So she packed what was low profile enough to wear amongst common people without standing out, and jewelry pieces she knew would sell well at resale shops. With her, she only took official documents that identified her and the clothes she packed. Before the mysterious Todoroki Enji appeared on the family's doorsteps, Tsukishima Chinami escaped the clutches of her family to venture out on her own journey.

Chinami traveled south hoping her family wouldn’t be able to find her if she moved far away. After sleeping overnight in a passenger train Chinami found herself in eastern Shizuoka, here she was able to collect her thoughts and make a plan of action. She’d sell the rest of the jewelry she had to fund her stay at a cheap hotel, food, and transportation. Within a few days, she was able to acquire a job at a convenience store, and a part-time job as a server at a diner. Here she was introduced to the culinary scene, though it was a shabby family diner it was enough to pique her interest. After transitioning full-time as a cook at the diner she was able to finally acquire not only her own apartment but admission to a culinary school out of Atami, Shizuoka. It was months of doubt and hard work but Tsukishima Chinami was able to make her own way in the world, giving her the much-needed independence from her family's clutches.

It would be around 2 years since she left home that Chinami would officially finish her degree, allowing her to begin an internship at a ramen shop closer to the edge of Tokyo. The shop was busy all seasons and almost always had a considerable line of people waiting for seats, all customers ranging from locals, tourists, and even heroes. None of them had ever distracted Chinami from her work, that was until Hamamoto Akira. 

[xodditiesx]

Angela has a point.

So, it's been a while since I've read New Moon but I remember being so touched when Angela was trying to be a good friend and figuring out how to help Bella through her depression. One of the things I've always wanted to write is a trauma recovery fic where Angela was right about the cause -- that Bella was abused & raped by Edward. Literally everything else could stay the same. The vampires, the werewolves. Jacob's friendship & character growth. It'd only take some slight reworking to make Edward a self aware abuser. I have a few drafts saved from back in the day but I've never really been happy with the results. Anyone have fic recs where this is explored?