#you do see that that's victim blaming right?

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Thinking about Jon’s self destructive behaviours because I think the gradual development of them, and how they intensify, is both very interesting and also very improtant in how the story ends.

Jon’s sacrifice in MAG200, his insistence on choosing the option that means giving his humanity up, getting the blood on his hands so no one else has to, condemning himself, it stems mostly from nearly three years worth of unchecked guilt, and his role as a scapegoat. He has to do the hard thing because no one else will, because only he, the monster, can.

The thing about Jon, is that Georgie was right, he needed a support system desperately - honestly most of the TMA characters do - but whatever support system he may have potentially had in people like Sasha, Tim and Martin had long since crumbled. Had he had that constant support, people there who saw him more as a man than a monster, who didn’t blame everything on him, I don’t think his self destructive tendencies would have gotten as bad as they did. He did have Martin and Daisy, but Martin was never around in season four, and I think with Daisy, there’s a whole other aspect to explore, especially with how she’s treated in comparison to him.

As a whole, a lot of his self destruction stems from how he views himself, as well as his position. By the time everyone else started trying to claim blame, it was far too late: the Eyepocalypse had begun and Jon was so used to being at fault, he could not see it any other way. He could not see himself as a victim.

This isn’t a jab at the others either, how they acted makes sense for their own positions, this post just happens to be focusing on Jon, and how this constant blame and dehumanisation impacted his mentality.

I think a lot about the small comment made by Basira (I believe it was?) on putting him down. It’s such a specific phrasing, that makes Jon feel less like a man and more like a sick dog that’s a danger to others and himself, and I think that summarises how he’s come to view himself, and how some view him, very well.

To summarise, if you treat a man like a monster, he’s going to start acting like he is one, and for all they tried to take that back, it was far too late to do so.

Again, not a jab at the other characters. I’ll probably be writing a post on Georgie soon honestly and how she reacts to these things, because God knows I do not blame her - I just need to rewatch some of the episodes for that.

This isn’t all my thoughts either as I am currently busy, but hey it gets the general idea across?

[i-am-traveling-the-multifandom]

Blood and Cheese

Warnings: S2 E1 spoilers, mentions of SA, mentions of gore and blood

So, you are telling me that HBO made b&c an accident. It was supposed to be Aemond. And they made Heleana run while Jaehaerys was being killed and her daughter safe and sound. And Alicent and Maelor wasn't even there. What the hell??!!

They turned one of the best, in fact the only well written part of the book and turned it into this piece of crap

Aemond was never involved. Daemon wanted to kill a child when Luke died because he didn't have the guts to fight Aemond. Aemond might have been the reason the dance of the dragons began but he was never the cause of b&c.

Heleana begged blood and cheese to take her life instead of her children and in the show, she offers her necklace. The entire point of blood and cheese is to show a distraught mother trying to protect her children and being forced to choose which one of her children die. And they made her simply point at her son. Book!Heleana would never. Book!Heleana had to hold the lifeless body of her eldest child that didn't even have his head. She couldn't see his last expressions, was there fear on his young face or was it pain? She would never know until these ruthless killers were found. She would rather lose her life and her sanity than her own children. And in the end, she lost them all. And that is the tragedy of Heleana the Dreamer. That is the tragedy of a mother and a queen.

Jaehaera is sleeping soundly and isn't even harmed while in the books she was a traumatized kid. She was threatened with rape by a man when she was 6 years old. She watched her twin get killed in a helpless position and could do nothing to protect him. That possibly was a driving reason of her suicide.

Maelor was present there at the time of b&c and he wasn't even born in the show. He was two years old; he was a child who saw such a brutal murder. Heleana in her mind made the right decision by offering Maelor instead of the heir to the throne but imagine how much that would have mentally and emotionally scarred him, if it wasn't for his untimely death. He was a victim of 'the greater good'. But it was never him and if he had grown up enough to even form words they would have been of pain and sorrow.

Alicent was in her room having sex with Criston Cole while in the book she had to wait knowing that her daughter and grandchildren would enter any minute and be harmed. She was helpless in those moments, and God knows what went through the mind of this woman who loved her children so much. Her trauma is undermined. She saw her bed maiden killed knowing this might be the fate of her beloved children and it was for Jaehaerys. She had to take care of Jaehaera and Maelor while her own daughter sank into a deep and dark pit of madness. She saw her daughter commit suicide because of this. Do any of us ever stop and wonder if she blamed herself for all this?

Blood and Cheese was one of the most traumatic events in the entire history of Targaryens and I will murder those who say otherwise. Not because I am team green but because I have sympathy. Sympathy for two young children forced to witness such cruelty, sympathy for a child who was inflicted with such early death, sympathy for two helpless mothers who blamed themselves for their children's doom.

And the show destroyed it. HBO destroyed everything, from the cruelty and from the trauma. And those who have never read the book will never know. Never know the cruelty of team black. Blood and cheese wasn't revenge, it wasn't a son for a son. It was pure cruelty and malice. It was the murder of a child who had never done anything wrong, and the show erased it. They never showed what extents team black could go in the name of war and revenge.

And I despise HBO for what they did. Once again, they show that team black can do no wrong, that Daemon Targaryen's actions are justifiable because he did it for his 'family'. But he didn't, like always he did this for the sake of violence, and forever will.

This season is ruined from the beginning. HBO can do nothing to make it better.

[thevelvetvampyre]

Bunny to a wolf - Jonathan Crane x patient reader

“So go on bunny. Run for me.”

Warnings: Predator x prey dynamic, noncon, restraints and cuffs, victim blaming, sexual assault mentioned, he’s derogatory, creampie, dacryphilia, general smut and dark adult content

Note: this is basically an intense game of hide and seek (predator x prey kink on 🔝)

──── ──── ────

It had been a few months since the attack, the smell of musk still making your stomach turn and your face cringe.

The memory of how heavy he felt on top of you, the way he heaved against your limp body and his rough grip on your sides that bruised a deep purple the next morning. The only thing that made it more horrific was the fact that he was still out there, probably boasting about the young girl he cuffed and fucked on the side of the road after one too many beers, how tight she was and how she took him so well.

“Are you scared that it may happen again?”

Dr. Crane gazed at you expressionlessly as he held his notebook on his crossed thigh. Exasperated and bored from asking you the same questions after each therapy session, his time with you proving to be non-beneficial as each appointment came around.

“Very.”

Your voice shook as your eyes remained on your lap, unable to look your psychiatrist in the eyes as you felt him grow more irritated with you daily.

“Well- unfortunately there’s not much else I can do.”

He huffed, uncrossing his legs and widening his knees as he clenched his jaw. Pushing up the frames on his nose bridge and glaring at you disgustedly, he linked his fingers on his stomach and furrowed his brows as he analysed you.

The fear that radiated off your skin was hypnotic, capturing his affection with how weak and pathetic you looked. He could smell how scared you were. Of him or the context as to why you sat opposite him, he didn’t care. He felt honoured, blessed even, he got to hear your sweet voice string out sentences of his version of an erotic violence.

Your descriptions of the attack were pornographic to him, the way you sobbed as you went into extensive detail of the pain you felt was so arousing you’d think he was watching you get off. With each tear that rolled down your cheek, a bead of cloudy white leaked out his pulsating tip.

A seething jealousy prickled under his skin as he imagined a filthy, Gotham peasant thrusting himself into you, angry he couldn’t of been present that night to stop him. He often wondered how adorable your wrists looked cuffed together, bruising and bleeding as you tried to escape.

He dreamt of replacing the man’s drunken cock with his experienced shaft, squinting down at you begging him to stop as he felt himself spill his cum into the back of you.

Watching you now, seeing how you were still so hopeless after months of therapy, he felt he’d broken you down enough to take matters into his own hands.

“There is one more thing we could try…”

His words were slow and deliberate, the tone he emitted made it sound like he would present you with a gift, a glimpse of hope in your psychologically devastating situation.

You pull your eyes up to meet his, a small haze had covered your vision and you rapidly bat your eyelids to focus on his face clearly.

“You may be… scared.”

He tilted his head as he pondered what emotive affect his suggestion may cause, confused on how your sensitive emotions may arise during the ‘treatment’.

“But it will work. It has to work.”

His lips pulled into a grin, the corners turning upwards as his eyes flattened into a squint.

Nodding your head agreeably, you’d do anything to rid the trauma from your mind. Desperation was in your blood at this point, your heart thumping in defeat as you’ve accepted you may feel like this forever.

“Anything Dr.Crane… I’ll do anything.”

Cocking a brow up, he clenched his jaw as he stood up and took slow strides to his desk, pulling open the top drawer on the right side of the mahogany wood and looking up at you in amusement.

Reaching down, you heard a clanking metal scrape along the material and his fingers revealed a dangling, swaying set of silver handcuffs.

Your eyes widened and you gulped, the fear of seeing the restraints sending goosebumps onto the back of your neck and flushing your cheeks with a violent red.

He walked around the desk to sit on the tabletop on the opposite side, your body physically reacting as you pushed yourself further into the couch to create as much distance from him as possible.

Watching as he sat on the desk, the grin on his face made you queasy and on edge.

“Come here.”

His voice was low and husky, his eyes following you as you hesitantly stood up and carefully walked over. The knot in your stomach was bubbling with anxiety, twisting in your gut and making you want to gag.

Standing in front of him, he took a deep breath as his eyes fell over your face, basking in how scared you looked and ignoring his primal queue to pounce on you then and there.

“This treatment is called systematic desensitisation. Where aspects of the patients PTSD or trauma is gradually exposed to them in a safe environment- the end goal being…”

He swiftly grabs your wrist mid sentence, causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“The confrontation of the fear allowing the patient to overcome that aspect of their trauma.

He gave you a full smile as he tugged lightly on the free side of the cuff, looking down and humming in approval at the way your wrist fit perfectly under the metal.

“Dr.Crane I-“

A wave of uncertainty and panic rush over you, subconsciously trying to retreat your wrist as it proved to no avail, his fingers holding firmly on the other clasp to keep your wrist propped up.

“Be a brave girl… I’ll admit you if this doesn’t work.”

Your eyes went wide as they began to swell in tears, his threat of Arkham throwing you off guard as he’d never mentioned it before this moment.

“You’ll be a danger to yourself.”

His head tilted as his voice purred a tone of sarcastic, speaking to you like you were a stupid dog who didn’t know how to sit for a treat.

His face became blurred as a tear brimmed on your waterline, the icy blue that stared daggers into you feeling threatening enough over his cold words.

Swiftly pulling your wrist a couple feet to his left, he ducked down and cuffed the other side of the cuffs onto the leg of his desk. You followed behind stumbling with the force of his action dragging you downwards to attach you to the pole of wood.

Sitting down and bringing your knees to your chest, you curled vulnerably as your mind raced with your attempts to calm yourself, trusting Dr.Crane through your palpitating anxiety.

As he glared down at you, his eyes turned dark and an overwhelming sense of panic flooded over you. He looked at you like a piece of meat, wanting the floor to suck you in whole to avoid his hungry gaze.

“Have you ever considered that maybe, you were asking for it?”

Dr.Cranes words shocked you, furrowing your brows and opening your drying mouth to respond to him.

“W-what?”

Pulling your knees closer, your heart pounded in your chest as he pulled a chair in front of you and sat down, spreading his knees as you sat perfectly between them.

“Tell me again, what were you wearing?”

His words were venomous yet clinical and he spat them out onto you, your limbs began to tremble as he suddenly looked a lot bigger with you sitting down.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with-“

You were offended, confused as to why he was suddenly going against the comforting advice he’s been giving you since the first session.

“Oh but it does darling, this is Gotham- remember?”

His face pulled into a look of disgust as his eyes trailed along your frail body, shuddering as his gaze was eating you alive.

“S-skirt- I was wearing a skirt.”

You shamefully looked down and tears started to swell in your eyes, the pain in your chest evident as you started to breath heavy in an attempt to calm yourself.

Groaning and clenching his jaw as he rolled his eyes back and pictured you laying exposed on the side walk in a tiny skirt, he felt his cock thicken under his pants and he licked his bottom lip as he salivated.

“So you were asking for it.”

His eyes remained closed and yours snapped onto him, your jaw falling in shock as your tears violently fell down your cheeks.

“No! I wasn’t!”

He chuckled at the fight in your voice.

“Oh I think you were”

His eyes opened and his head nodded to his words.

“Only whores wear skirts in Gotham.”

You began sobbing and trying to pull your wrist out of the clasp of the metal, panic fuelling you into fight or flight and in this case, running was the only answer.

He chuckled as he watched you intently, enjoying the view of you struggling.

“Calm down…”

His voice was oddly comforting but to no avail, your wrist pulling harder on the desk and it proved to be much heavier than you as you winced.

“I said- calm down.”

He lent his chest forward and grabbed your scalp, pulling your face up with your hair as he remained inches away from your lips.

His eyes fell across your features as you winced in pain to his grasp, admiring how pretty you looked with flushed cheeks and black smudge running along your eyelids.

“Are you going to be a pathetic little victim forever? Or are you going to let Dr.Crane fix for you?”

He growled his words, showing his teeth as he spoke.

All you could do was whimper, causing him to pull back at your hair once more and snap your neck further back.

“Hm?”

You gulped down as you looked at him, his hum now a softer whisper.

“Dr.Crane to fix it for me.”

You mumbled, he let go of your hair and sat back on the chair, you swayed as you lost his grip and he cleared his throat.

You could only look up at him with furrowed brows, your eyes swollen and your scalp stinging. You felt pathetic, chained to your psychiatrists desk as he made you feel responsible for your attack.

Sighing, his eyes fell along your body and you shuffled back, anything to get out of his sight.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

He threw his hands up, stating his sentence as something that was obvious.

“And I’m going to fill your cunt until I’m finished.”

Your eyes widened and your brows knitted, a string of begs fall from your lips as your wrist started pulling violently on the cuffs.

“No! Dr.Crane-please!”

You began to sob, panic possessing you as you watched him chuckle.

He basked in your pleas, rolling his head back with his eyes as he furrowed his brows.

“I’ll do anything! Please let me go.”

You choked on your words, your wrist bone bleeding purple as a bruise began to form.

“That’s it… cry for me.”

The shock of his words left you sobbing louder, your chest heaving and a panic flushing your skin warm. You tried lifting the desk, sneaking your wrist out and opening the clasp manually, you were stuck under his control for as long as he had you chained.

His cock began throbbing as you cried, his months of patience paying off as he felt his veiny dick fill with blood.

He continued to chuckle, amused by your failed attempts of escaping.

“Please- Dr.Crane let me go!”

You extended your last word, sobbing through your mouth and whining like a spoiled child.

“Go?”

His eyebrows cocked up.

“Go where?”

You continued pulling on your wrist, the pain growing unbearable.

“Home- please… I want to go home.”

“Oh no bunny… not yet.”

He began tapping his foot, growing irritated at the sound of the metal pulling aggressively on the wooden leg.

He chuckled louder as you began to scream for help, screaming louder than your lungs could hold as a hot burn filled your organs in urgency.

“There’s no use darling. I’m the only one in my office.”

Your cheeks stung with his nicknames, a heat rushing across your skin as you felt you were knocking on deaths door.

“Oh c’mon…”

His eyes rolled.

“Nobody’s coming to save you. Fuck, no one can even hear you.”

His tone was flat, his words stabbing you deeply as you knew it was true.

His office was huge, basically the small section of the ward in Arkham was completely his. Three rooms, one of which you were currently in, and the reception. Nobody was ever there and you were alone in this apartment sized office, crying and begging your psychiatrist to not fuck you.

“Please… please let me go!”

Your whines grew annoying to him, rolling his eyes and groaning at the sound of your screaming voice.

“You just won’t have it, will you?”

“No-no, no… let me go!”

You shook your head in denial, your words rapid and rushed as your wrist started to bleed.

Sighing in defeat, he leans forward as a smirk grows on his face.

“Let’s play a little game, hm?”

He roughly grasped at your wrist, groaning at the sight of your exposed flesh that your desperately pathetic attempts to escape caused.

Looking up at him through your heavy, tear stained eyes, you frowned and felt your heart thump in fear.

“Are you good at hide and seek?”

His face was dangerously close to yours now, the bright white of his office turning your stomach as this monster was supposed to be your psychiatrist, your saviour.

He reached into his pocket to pull out the key to your cuffs, your eyes going wide and your chest fluttering in relief.

“We’ll play a round. You hide… and I seek.”

His voice was low and merely above a whisper, the undertone of excitement made you breath shakily in fear, unable to respond to his words.

“Please let me go.”

You whispered, his face still inches away from yours.

“I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, watching as his fingers clasped at the metal and his other hand turned the key to loosen its hold on you.

“So go on bunny. Run for me.”

As soon as you felt the cool air on your bruised wrist, you shot up and began sprinting towards the door.

You stumbled as your legs tried to move faster than you were capable of, sobbing and screaming as your knees moved fast.

You pushed past his office doors and he watched as you shoved yourself through the frame, clenching his jaw, flaring his nostrils and cocking up his brows as he remained bored at your panic.

Running as fast as you could through your exhausted pants, you ran through his reception and attempted to push the door.

He locked it.

Screaming a screeching sound of ‘no’ as your palms slammed against the door, you pulled at the door handle desperately as you sobbed in failure.

Staying seated in his chair, he flipped his wrist and pulled back his suit, watching as his watch ticked to thirty seconds since letting you free.

Standing up slowly before adjusting his tie, he took slow strides out of his office and chuckled as he saw you on the other end of the reception banging as hard as you could, your ongoing screams swelling his thick cock harder and tenting his pants.

“You just don’t listen, do you!”

His voice was loud and echoed through the clinical walls, swinging your head back to look at him as the panic stole the air away and switched it with fear in your lungs.

You heard the clanking of his shoes come closer behind you, bailing on your attempt at his reception door and deciding that maybe you could outrun him.

You were exhausted from the sobbing as your knees became weak and barely let you run, your breathing was erratic and you heaved in desperation.

Although you felt as if you were bolting around his office, his long strides seemingly caught up with your pathetic jog.

Feeling the heat of his arms, he grabbed you firmly and pinned you against the wall. He was bigger, stronger and faster than you and held you up on your tip toes as you struggled beneath him.

You felt his throbbing erection press into your stomach, sobbing out choked cries as his cock felt huge, bulging into your stomach and spreading a heat across your core.

“Is that the best you could do?”

You continued to squirm, avoiding his face as he was merely an inch away from yours.

“No wonder you were so easy. You’re not very good at this, are you bunny?”

He chuckled and pressed you tighter against the wall, grunting as he tried to keep you still.

You were on your tip toes as he held you on his eye level, wincing out in pain as the concrete was violently pushed against you.

Dropping you slightly but keeping you firm in his grasp, he wrapped his arms around you and guided you into the room besides his office. The room with the examination table, limb restraints on the bed and a rack of medical tools that ranged from blunt to flesh teasingly sharp.

Manoeuvring you onto the examination bed, he swiftly chained your wrists to your sides and made his way to your feet. You kicked at them in an attempt to hurt him, his grasp too strong and overpowering as he held you down and chained you up to the heightened stirrups.

“Don’t be so… difficult.”

He grunted as the final clasp tightly restrained your left ankle, your legs open and wide for his viewing.

Huffing out and placing his hands on his hips, he tilted his head as he admired how weak you looked chained up and legs spread, a smirk growing as he turned around and walked to the cupboard behind him.

Your chest heaved heavily and your hands trembled, fear possessing your body as tears violently sobbed down your face. Watching as he turned around with a pair of scissors in hand, your stomach turned and almost brought up breakfast in panic.

Watching as he held one hand to pull up your pyjama pants and used the other to slice the fabric down the center, you cursed yourself for not wearing underwear as the cold, clinical room hit your exposed cunt.

“Such an easy slut… have you learned nothing?”

His face was in disbelief, licking his bottom lip as he placed the scissors down next to him and ducked down to meet your pussy at eye level. He brought both his hands up to pull you apart and growled at the sight of your pink flesh.

“You’re very wet for someone who’s so unwilling.”

Your face flushed red as you cringed, turning your neck to the side to avoid looking at him analysing your dripping cunt.

He stood back up and his eyes turned dark, purring groans as his expression was now possessed with lust and hunger.

As your tears continued to roll down your face, your chest palpitated as you watched him glaring down at you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked like he was about to dig right in to your raw flesh and eat you alive.

After basking in how pathetic and easy you looked, his hands fell to his pants and he unzipped his middle, leaving his belt on as he shimmered his cock out from under his underwear.

“No- please Dr.Crane no!”

Your head rolled and your tears were flowing, the size of him frighting as it sprung out into the cold air onto his palm.

“You’re scaring me- please.”

Your voice remained as whisper as you lacked air in your lungs, feeling his hand grasp round your hip as he moved closer to your exposed cunt.

“That’s the point darling.”

He growled lowly, pressing his tip against your entrance before slowly dragging it up and down your wet slit.

His cock was already warm, a residue of liquid smearing along your opening as he picked up your arousal onto him. Whimpering under his touch, your body attempted to shift but proved useless, his grip too firm on your hips and your wrists heavily bound onto the table.

Pressing his tip against your hole, he sunk his head quickly and you sobbed at the feeling of his cock breaching your tight walls.

“Oh- bunny.”

He panted breathlessly, watching as his inches pressed into your unwilling cunt.

He groaned around your walls, after feeling how tight you were on his tip he impatiently pushed himself down to his base. His balls pressed against the bottom of your asscheeks and you couldn’t help but cry out a sobbed moan at the feeling of him inside you.

“That’s it…”

He pulled his hips out slowly before harshly fucking himself fully once more. Wincing in pain, his mouth fell open and his brows furrowed.

“Take your psychiatrists cock like the whore you are.”

He groaned and you squirmed in pain, his thick, veiny cock being much larger than your attackers.

Repeatedly dragging himself out before roughly fucking his hips into the back of your cervix, your cries became muffled as you laid there limp in acceptance to your situation. Occasionally shedding a tear as you whimper against his thrusts, he strung out praise on how tight you were around him.

“Taking my cock so well.”

He grunted, fastening up his pace as his balls slapped against your ass and filled the room with a squelching noise, his growls filling your ears as his pace remained robotic. Your stomach turned as he spoke, repeating the same words your attacker did, your pussy clenched around him in response and he grunted against the feel of you tightening around him.

Your crying was poetic, softly sobbing as you felt him ruin you. With each sob, his dick hardened and flexed.

“Cry for me bunny… cry- oh yes, just like that.”

Throwing his head back and rolling his eyes, you peered a look at your psychiatrist who was seemingly coming undone around your cunt.

You watched as his face blushed a soft pink and his lips were swelled, his mouth falling open as his eyebrows twitched in rhythm to how his cock flexed. His fingers remained deep in your hips, stinging at the sharpness of his nails in your soft skin.

You bounced off his hips as your skin slapped together, watching how his hair fell around his face as he scrunched it in pleasure.

“M’gonna- fuck- fill this cunt. Have’s you dripping my cum- mhm- all week.”

His words were breathless and whiny, his knees bucking as his thrusts became sloppier.

His cock stuffed you, ploughing into you hard enough to shift you along the examination table.

“Yes… yes- oh fuck bunny your cunt feel so good.”

His voice was trembling at a higher pitch, swinging his neck down to watch himself break you in half.

He whimpered as a circle of white covered his base and his cock glistened in the medical, white lighting in the room.

“M’gonna- fuck!”

His cock flexed and twitched violently inside of you as he met your eyes, watching as you bawl in pain undid the hot knot in his groin as he spilled his cum into the back of you.

It felt like a dam that had cracked, a monstrous amount of liquid seeping out of him as it sprayed along your walls.

Whining and panting as his thrusts fucked you pathetically slow as he came, his face was a deep red and his hair fell over his eyes.

His mouth was open and his brows knitted together into one, the strength of his orgasm overpowering him as he wobbled on his knees.

The liquid heat had filled your pussy, you felt the stickiness rub against you as he continued to drag out his cock and delicately touch the back of your cervix.

After slowing down his thrusts and panting through his whines, he pulled his cock out and it fell out softly in between his thighs.

His eyes remained knitted and tearful as they looked at you limp on the examination table, your shirt wet from tears and your nose runny from the force he fucked you at.

Collecting himself, he pushed his cock back into his suit and slowly removed the shackles around your ankles. Moving slowly and deliberate on your skin in a soft, gentle manner.

Unable to move as you continued to lie in front of him, even once he had freed all your restraints, you were defeated and stared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes as you were now weak and used.

Sighing as he looked down at you, he lowered his gaze and pressed his glasses up on his nose bridge.

Meeting his eyes he was shockingly giving you a sympathetic look, genuine or not you’d never seen him look so kind.

“You can go now, bunny.”

He whispered, bringing the back of his palm up to caress your tear stained cheek.

Huffing out at your lack of movement, he stood back up and left the room.

Your body began convulsing as he walked away, his absence from your side, or in you, feeling colder than you expected.

He turned around at the frame of the door to glance back at you.

“The session next week will be at the same time. Wear something… accessible.”

Your eyes rolled on the bed and you huffed out, a string of his cum tickling your slit as it rolled out of you.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

why did you tag your post with gaz erasure my ass? like what was hard to believe that the cod fandom has blatant patterns of purposefully removing the only black character and replacing him with everyone under the sun? your friend lied about killing themself to make them look like a victim. and you participated in harassing people who saw this for what it was. you need to step back and reflect on your own self on why you thought that your friend’s “death” was caused by people calling out patterns of anti black racism and then go on to harass them. you are not an ally by any means.

Back when I used that tag, I paired it with another tag right after, it was meant to be an aggressive call out on misinformation, I had meant for it to read as 'Gaz erasure my ass, y'all just can't read'.

(This because the original post didn't read like intentional erasure but rather like codslut thought Gaz didn't fit the post, since she also didn't use Reboot Soap, she used *Captain* Soap, idk how best to explain it but to me the two soaps are different characters so i figured it was an intentional choice to use him and keegan rather than reboot soap and gaz)

Edit: I want to add that I also used codslut's own explanation as the basis for why I didn't think it was erasure. And at this point, she's clearly not to be fucking trusted, so it wouldn't surprise me if it really *was* erasure/racism and I believed her word that it wasn't.

As time went on, I dropped the last part of the tag of 'y'all just can't read', and looking back it not only reads as a racist dog whistle but also, just in general, sounds and looks fucking disgusting.

I've said this before, but I think it warrants saying again: I *didn't* mean to say Gaz erasure doesn't exist. It does very much exist in the community and even Activision themselves often erase Gaz from promo materials.

I'd hate for people to think that I either dislike Gaz or don't see the blatant racism/dislike/erasure that happens with him on the community. That's not the case. Gaz is a main character (unlike König like so many people try to replace him with) who I absolutely adore, and I call out erasure when I see it here on Tumblr, on Tiktok and on Twitter.

I never meant to make it seem like Gaz erasure doesn't exist. I only wanted to call out misinformation... and ended up doing the exact opposite of both my intentions. I'm sorry about that. It was not just disgusting but full on stupid of me.

I also want to say that I didn't think that that screenshot post specifically or even the act of people calling out racism where they saw it was the cause for codslut possibly killing herself. That is not what I meant at all. And I don't want anyone to think I blame @soapskneebrace or @glossysoap or anyone else for that. Blood was never on their hands, I want to make that very clear!!!!

When I was confronting people, I was doing so on the basis that they're big creators with big platforms and that by accusing codslut of racism/erasure they opened the door for anons to justify their actions when going after codslut because they have so much reach and people with bad intentions need less than that to justify the hate they send people.

Looking back, I know I was in the wrong for how I spoke. I was aggressive and rude and mean, and none of the people involved deserve that. Hell, my actions were hypocritical as hell and I probably opened the door for them to get hate themselves. I'm really fucking sorry.

If I could take it back, I would. I never believed nor wanted them to believe that someone potentially harming themselves was their fault. It wasn't.

I do plan on taking a step back to reconsider not just the way I acted but everything that's happened. In fact, I was already taking said break and came online only because I got word of @/fulltacs' post.

I appreciate and thank you for holding me accountable (and by that I mean you and everyone!). And I especially thank *you* anon for wording this ask this way, and giving me, at least, a chance to explain.

[the-l-is-silent-yall]

I think it's time for me to elaborate on what I was saying the other day.

These two people that this post is about are Caitlynnrosespn and Apexious - I have over a fucking hundred screenshots of the two of them being inappropriate with minors. Mostly through RPs. And yet, I've spent the past few months being scared of them. But not anymore.

They like long tumblr callout posts so much? Okie dokie, I'll give them one.

When you're 18, you're not a kid anymore. You know that. Which means that you can't just do fetish themed RPs with 15 year olds and get away with it. If you're repeatedly JOKING about the "degeneracy" or laughing about how inappropriate it is, then you KNOW it's bad, and yet you're still doing it.

The fact that the minors said they weren't bothered by it isn't an excuse either. I assure you, if YOU saw this happening from someone else doing it, you'd be calling the FBI, the CIA, the CDC, the army, the navy, the swat team…but it's you and you're "mom" so it's okay? I have my doubts you'd accept "the minors weren't bothered by it" from ANYONE else, just as you would be horrified to hear it if someone else told you they'd been PRIVATELY COORDINATING said sex rps IN MINORS' DMS. Privately coordinating it ahead of time makes it worse because that means you were planning it, it wasn't just a dumb thoughtless remark in the heat of the moment (which wouldn't be okay either, but still!).

These RPs would bring up things like dog collars and aprodisiacs and being so loud during sex that "Selios" could hear and moaning and biting and deities having mating seasons and ungodly things with forks that I think I'm going to cry if I have to repeat.

But I get it. ONE of the minors is almost 18. That's why you threw him under the bus when you were called out for your behavior and gave him a large part of the blame for it, when YOU the (adult) server owners could've and should've said "no", and that's why you let it go on for MONTHS. Right?

To the people that this post is about: I dare you to respond to this in a way that doesn't bring up "but what about [insert random thing that I or someone else did here]?" or "but I'm going through such a hard time!". Because guess what? I'm going through a hard time too. I have a condition that makes my jaw shift painfully every day and I've just had to file a fraud report on both my debit and my credit card so I currently have no accessible money. You're not the only one going through a hard time.

And I don't want you to to send a minor to fight your battles for you either. I want to see you respond to this in a way that's ACTUALLY an apology and not the half-apologizing "I've said it won't happen again and apologized" "if you want me to go back and erase it from ever happening, find me a time machine and I'll do it" (exact words).

I could go on about how you also spread gossip and spread hate, but you did SO much talking behind peoples' backs including about minors that there are some people who don't even KNOW you said "fuck [them]", and this isn't exactly how I want them to find out. Really, I can't say half the things I want to say for the sake of peoples' privacy.

Caitlynnrosespn, Apexious, you don't EVER get to pretend like you're better than anyone else when these are the things you do. I am NOT saying you're creeps/predators so don't you dare try and deflect with that, but you need to show some real responsibility here. You are not the victims. I know you're only 18/19, but you need to be better. What kind of example is this setting? I believe you can be better, but only if you take some real responsibility. I tried doing this privately and it didn't go over so well, so you get it here.

To the affected minors, I'm sorry because I know you probably won't understand why I'm saying this/doing this to the people you see as your friends. And I can't make you understand it, and I won't argue with the way you feel right now.

To everyone else reading this post, please don't try and contact or identify any of the minors involved. At the end of the day, I'm just trying to warn people and I can't stand for anyone else to get hurt.

I'm scared as fuck to post this, but I wanna thank my friends for having my back.

[onceuponaroast]

Ok I have something to say and I want yall to listen because I am sick to death of being made to feel like I should apologize for being attracted to men

Believe it or not, men are not a malicious hive mind. They are not 'biologically predisposed' to be evil. They are people. They are human. Do we live in a patriarchal society that teaches our boys harmful behaviors? Yeah. But men are still autonomous people capable of making their own decisions, and saying otherwise only makes it easier to excuse harmful behavior.

For years-especially in the queer community- I have been told that because I am capable of being attracted to both men and women it is my moral duty to choose to only act on my attraction to women. That my attraction to men should be ignored or eliminated.

This is, 100%, utter bullshit. Men are wonderful! Men are beautiful and funny and sweet and kind. Men are some of the kindest most wonderful people I know and I Love men.

Are all men wonderful? No! But neither are all women, all nonbinary people, all agender people, or all anyone else. Bad behavior is the fault of the person, NOT the gender.

So stop parroting that radfem rhetoric; and if you truly believe it then I want you to take a long look at that and figure out why. I'm willing to bet the reason says more about you than it does about men.

To all men reading this who need to hear it: you are loved. You are not a bad person because of how you identify. I love you.

[autismserenity]

Me, looking through books on Palestine: "Ilan Pappé wrote one called 'The Biggest Prison On Earth?!' People in Gaza hate it being called a prison. There's an entire hashtag for it. There's been an account dedicated to collecting pics and videos of #TheGazaYouDontSee for 6 years.

"Is Pappé even Palestinian? oh god wait I can tell already. this is gonna be an 'Israeli apologist' isn't it." Internet: "Yeah, Pappé's Israeli."

Me: "For fuck's--- so people will believe Israelis unquestioningly if they're shit-talking Israel, but in all other situations, Israelis are all liars?"

Internet: "Pretty much. Also, at best, Ilan Pappé must be one of the world’s sloppiest historians."

Me, admittedly in full schadenfreude now: "What?!?!"

Internet: "Benny Morris. That historian who's extremely hard-core about primary source documentation, who wrote that detailed book about how and why each group of Palestinian refugees left in 1947-9. He reviewed three books about Palestine."

Me: "Holy shit. And the book by Pappé is about the Husaynis. The family that Nazi war criminal Amin al-Husseini came from, the guy who fucked absolutely everything up for both Israel and Palestine."

Internet: "That's the one. Morris wrote, 'At best, Ilan Pappe must be one of the world’s sloppiest historians; at worst, one of the most dishonest. In truth, he probably merits a place somewhere between the two.'"

Me: "Why??"

Internet: "He says, 'Here is a clear and typical example—in detail, which is where the devil resides—of Pappe’s handiwork. I take this example from The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine'....

"Blah blah blah, basically in 1947 the UN voted to partition the land into Palestine and Israel, and extremist militias started shooting at Jewish towns and people. David Ben-Gurion was the leader of the Jewish community there, and his journal describes a visit from a scientist named Aharon Katzir, telling him about an experiment codenamed "Shimshon." Morris gives us the journal entry:

...An experiment was conducted on animals. The researchers were clothed in gas masks and suit. The suit costs 20 grush, the mask about 20 grush (all must be bought immediately). The operation [or experiment] went well. No animal died, the [animals] remained dazzled [as when a car’s headlights dazzle an oncoming driver] for 24 hours. There are some 50 kilos [of the gas]. [They] were moved to Tel Aviv. The [production] equipment is being moved here. On the laboratory level, some 20 kilos can be produced per day.

"Morris says, 'This is the only accessible source that exists, to the best of my knowledge, about the meeting and the gas experiment, and it is the sole source cited by Pappe for his description of the meeting and the "Shimshon" project. But this is how Pappe gives the passage in English:

Katzir reported to Ben-Gurion: 'We are experimenting with animals. Our researchers were wearing gas masks and adequate outfit. Good results. The animals did not die (they were just blinded). We can produce 20 kilos a day of this stuff.'

"'The translation is flecked with inaccuracies, but the outrage is in Pappe’s perversion of "dazzled," or sunveru, to "blinded"—in Hebrew "blinded" would be uvru, the verb not used by Ben-Gurion—coupled with the willful omission of the qualifier '"for 24 hours."'

"'Pappe’s version of this text is driven by something other than linguistic and historiographical accuracy. Published in English for the English-speaking world, where animal-lovers are legion and deliberately blinding animals would be regarded as a barbaric act, the passage, as published by Pappe, cannot fail to provoke a strong aversion to Ben-Gurion and to Israel.

"'Such distortions, large and small, characterize almost every page of The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine. So I should add, to make the historical context perfectly clear, that no gas was ever used in the war of 1948 by any of the participants. [Or, he later notes, by either Israel or Palestine ever.] Pappe never tells the reader this.

"'Raising the subject of gas is historical irrelevance. But the paragraph will dangle in the reader’s imagination as a dark possibility, or worse, a dark reality: the Jews, gassed by the Nazis three years before, were about to gas, or were gassing, Arabs.'"

Me: "Uuuuggghhhhhhhhh. Yeah, it will."

Internet: "He does say, 'Palestinian Dynasty was a good idea.' Then he does some really detailed historian-dragging about the lack of primary sources and reliance on people's interpretations of what they say instead.

"'Almost all of Pappe’s references direct the reader to books and articles in English, Hebrew, and Arabic by other scholars, or to the memoirs of various Arab politicians, which are not the most reliable of sources. Occasionally there is a reference to an Arab or Western travelogue or genealogy, or to a diplomat’s memoir; but there is barely an allusion to documents in the relevant British, American, and Zionist/Israeli archives.

"'When referring to the content of American consular reports about Arab riots in the 1920s, for example, Pappe invariably directs the reader to an article in Hebrew by Gideon Biger—“The American Consulate in Jerusalem and the Events of 1920-1921,” in Cathedra, September 1988—and not to the documents themselves, which are easily accessible in the United States National Archive.

"'Those who falsify history routinely take the path of omission. They ignore crucial facts and important pieces of evidence while cherry-picking from the documentation to prove a case. 

"'Those who falsify history routinely take the path of omission. They ignore crucial facts and important pieces of evidence while cherry-picking from the documentation to prove a case. 

"'But Pappe is more brazen. He, too, often omits and ignores significant evidence, and he, too, alleges that a source tells us the opposite of what it in fact says, but he will also simply and straightforwardly falsify evidence.

"'Consider his handling of the Arab anti-Jewish riots of the 1920s.

"'Pappe writes of the “Nabi Musa” riots in April 1920: “The [British] Palin Commission... reported that the Jewish presence in the country was provoking the Arab population and was the cause of the riots.” He also quotes at length Musa Kazim al-Husayni, the clan’s leading notable at the time, to the effect that “it was not the [Arab] Hebronites who had started the riots but the Jews.”

"'But the (never published) [Palin Commission Report], while forthrightly anti-Zionist, thereby accurately reflecting the prevailing views in the British military government that ruled Palestine until mid-1920, flatly and strikingly charged the Arabs with responsibility for the bloodshed.

"'The team chaired by Major-General P.C. Palin wrote that “it is perfectly clear that with... few exceptions the Jews were the sufferers, and were, moreover, the victims of a peculiarly brutal and cowardly attack, the majority of the casualties being old men, women and children.” The inquiry pointed out that whereas 216 Jews were killed or injured, the British security forces and the Jews, in defending themselves or in retaliatory attacks, caused only twenty-five Arab casualties.'"

Me: "Yeah. I'm looking at that report right now and it says there had been an explosion, and then people were looting Jewish stores and beating Jews with stones, and in one case stabbing someone. Some people said that some Jews got up on the roof of a hotel and retaliated by throwing stones themselves.

"And then it literally says, 'The point as to the retaliation by Jews is of importance because it seems to have impressed the Military and led them to imagine that the Jews were to some extent responsible for provoking the rising.' That's the only thing it really says about anyone blaming the Jews.

"Except.... the very beginning gives some historical context. And it does say that when the Balfour Declaration came out, Muslims and Christians 'considered that they were to be handed over to an oppression which they hated far more than the Turk's and were aghast at the thought of this domination....

"'If this intensity of feeling proceeded merely from wounded pride of race and disappointment in political aspirations, it would be easier to criticise and rebuke: but it must be borne in mind that at the bottom of all is a deepseated fear of the Jew, both as a possible ruler and as an economic competitor. Rightly or wrongly they fear the Jew as a ruler, regarding his race as one of the most intolerant known to history....

"'The prospect of extensive Jewish immigration fills him with a panic fear, which may be exaggerated, but is none the less genuine. He sees the ablest race intellectually in the world, past-masters in all the arts of ousting competitors whether on the market, in the farm or the bureaucratic offices, backed by apparently inexhaustible funds given by their compatriots in all lands and possessed of powerful influence in the councils of the nations, prepared to enter the lists against him in every one of his normal occupations, backed by the one thing wanted to make them irresistible, the physical force of a great Imperial Power, and he feels himself overmastered and defeated before the contest is begun.'

"Wow! What a great fucking example of how 'positive' stereotypes are actually used to fuck people over! We're not antisemitic, we actually think Jews are the smartest, most powerful, richest group with tremendous global power! So positive!! Not at all being used here to justify antisemitic violence!

"Also, immigration from all over the world actually meant that different agricultural and manufacturing techniques were brought into the region, and yes, financial investments to start businesses sometimes, which meant that Arab Palestinians there had the highest per capita income in the Middle East, the highest daily wages, and started a lot of businesses of their own. But go off, I guess."

"Anyfuckingway.... it basically says that the Muslims and Christians were angry and scared, the Jews were too quick to set up the functioning government that the Brits were supposed to be there to help both sides create -- and which the Arab leaders completely refused to create for Palestine, because (1) fascists and (2) didn't want Jews nearby -- and that they were "ready prey for any form of agitation hostile to the British Government and the Jews." Then it says the movement for a United Syria was agitating them real hard, and so were the Sherifians.

"Is that what Ilan Passe, I mean Pappe, meant by the Palin Report blaming the Jews?! That when it says it's understandable the Arabs were freaking out, because antisemitism, Pappe thinks it's saying the Jews were provoking them?!"

Internet: "I don't know. I kinda tuned out after the first hour you were talking."

Me: "OGH MY GOD"

Internet: "So anyway, then Morris ALSO says, 'About the 1929 “Temple Mount” riots, which included two large-scale massacres of Jews, in Hebron and in Safed, Pappe writes: “The opposite camp, Zionist and British, was no less ruthless [than the Arabs]. In Jaffa a Jewish mob murdered seven Palestinians.”

Me: "What the ENTIRE FUCK? There was no united 'Zionist and British' camp! The Brits would barely let any Holocaust refugees in, ffs!"

Internet: "Morris says, 'Actually, there were no massacres of Arabs by Jews, though a number of Arabs were killed when Jews defended themselves or retaliated after Arab violence.

"'Pappe adds that the British “Shaw Commission,” so-called because it was chaired by Sir Walter Shaw (a former chief justice of the Straits Settlements), which investigated the riots, “upheld the basic Arab claim that Jewish provocations had caused the violent outbreak. ‘The principal cause... was twelve years of pro-Zionist [British] policy.’”

"'It is unclear what Pappe is quoting from. I did not find this sentence in the commission’s report. Pappe’s bibliography refers, under “Primary Sources,” simply to “The Shaw Commission.” The report? The deliberations? Memoranda by or about? Who can tell?

"'The footnote attached to the quote, presumably to give its source, says, simply, “Ibid.”

"'The one before it says, “Ibid., p. 103.”

"'The one before that says, “The Shaw Commission, session 46, p. 92.”

"'But the quoted passage does not appear on page 103 of the report.

"In the text of Palestinian Dynasty, Pappe states that “Shaw wrote [this] after leaving the country [Palestine].” But if it is not in the report, where did Shaw “write” it?'"

Me: "I'M ON IT. [rapid-fire googling] OMG. This is.... Not the first time. In 'The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine,' he reported that in a 1937 letter to his son, David Ben-Gurion declared: 'The Arabs will have to go, but one needs an opportune moment for making it happen, such as war.'

"It's not in the source he gave. It's not in any of the three different sources he's given for it.

"He apparently has never responded to any requests for an explanation, either from the journal he published in, or from other historians. But it says he did "obliquely [acknowledge] the controversy in an article in Electronic Intifada, in which he portrayed himself as the victim of intimidation at the hands of “Zionist hooligans.”'

"This is absolutely fucking wild. THEN it says the chair of the Ethics Committee where he was teaching eventually said that the second part of the quote ('but one needs,' etc) was a (combined?) paraphrase of a diary entry and a speech Ben-Gurion gave, and that the first half is 'based on' a letter to his son.

"And it's so convincing! The chair says, 'Shabtai Teveth[,] Ben Gurion’s biographer, Benny Morris and the historian Nur Maslaha have all quoted this letter. In fact their translation was stronger than the quotation from Professor Pappé: ‘We must expel the Arabs and take their place.’ Professor Pappé has documentary evidence of these quotations and the source will ensure that this is correctly cited in any future editions of the publication or related studies.'

"And IT'S NOT EVEN TRUE?!

"Ben-Gurion's actual diary entry (not a letter) says the opposite.

“'We do not want and do not need to expel Arabs and take their places.... All our aspiration is built on the assumption – proven throughout all our activity – that there is enough room in the country for ourselves and the Arabs.'

"Benny Morris misquoted it as "We must expel the Arabs and take their places" in the English version of his 1987 book The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem, although it was correct in the Hebrew version. He corrected himself in the 2001 book Righteous Victims.

"Teveth also misquoted it in the English version of his 1985 book Ben-Gurion and the Palestinian Arabs, but again, had it correct in the Hebrew edition.

"And both Morris and Teveth explicitly point out the rest of the entry. The part about all their aspiration being built on the assumption and experience that there was enough room in the country for everyone.

"Historian Efraim Karsh’s 1997 book Fabricating Israeli History pointed out and corrected their mistakes.

"This is apparently a very well-known issue among historians of Israel and Palestine. It was a big deal in 2003, when an evangelist Christian publisher put out a book FULL of disinformation, which not only used the same quote as Pappe does, but also could not give a real source for it.

"But Pappe STILL USED THE MISQUOTE AND DOUBLED DOWN ON IT EVERY SINGLE TIME."

Internet: "Are you done? I know all this already."

Me: "Also, there are literally only two places where the phrase 'twelve years of pro-Zionist policy' shows up online, and they're both about Pappe making quotes up.

"NOW I'm done."

Benny Morris wasn't, though. The review continues at the link below. And the next part starts, "To the deliberate slanting of history Pappe adds a profound ignorance of basic facts. Together these sins and deficiencies render his “histories” worthless as representations of the past, though they are important as documents in the current political and historiographic disputations about the Arab-Israeli conflict. Pappe’s grasp of the facts of World War I, for example, is weak in the extreme."

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s1 episode 14 thoughts

this episode made me deeply uncomfortable for a myriad of reasons so instead of doing my usual long breakdown/review, i leave you with one thing worth remembering:

scully finding a random horse on the side of the street and immediately befriending it was deeply endearing <3

[fiapple]

literally, i love nami so much, you do not even understand. you cannot begin to fathom.

[philtatosbuck]

mikaelson stans are deeply unserious but the worst kinds are the klaro klaus stans, the “klaus is a big meanie” elijah stans and the “kol is so mistreated” kol stans

[nyankoizumi]

if the entire AVA and AVM series is canonically in youtube for anyone to see and The Chosen One were to see the first ever AVA video and witness Alan killing Victim before Chosen had even been created would that be fucked up or what

[kinnbig]

anon is off until you all learn how to behave 💖

[novadreii]

also IF A MAN LIES TO YOU AND THEN BLAMES IT ON YOU SAYING THAT HE LIED BECAUSE HE WAS SCARED YOU'D BE MAD, DUMP. HIS. ASS!!!!!!!

[weareuniqueandimportant]

EMPATHY GLAMORIZATION IS NOT ABOUT EMPATHY BUT SUPERIORITY TORWARDS APATHETIC PEOPLE BIGOTRY TORWARDS THEM TYPICAL BIGOT EVIL. SIMPLE AS THAT. IF YOU SEE THEM AS LEFTIST YOU'RE NO LEFTIST YOURSELF. HORRIBLE. THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO HAVE ONLY EMPATHY AND BAD TO THINK EVERYTHING YOU DO IS SUCH ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY'RE CLEARLY BEING APATHETIC IF ANYTHING WHEN THEY DO THIS...

COMES TO SHOW BIGOTRY TORWARDS CRAZY AND DISABLED PEOPLE ASWELL AS PARAPHILIA PEOPLE ISN'T TAKEN AT ALL THE SAME AS SEXISM RACISM AND QUEERPHOBIA... OR PERHAPS... LIKELY... THEY ARE ALL THE BIGOTED THINGS EVIL AND TAKE NONE THAT SERIOUSLY... BELITTLING DOWN THEIR PAIN AND DAMAGE...

[sttoru]

sukunas fav concubine being bullied by the other concubines?? maybe they push her into the fountain 👀👀👀

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. being bullied because you’re sukuna’s favorite concubine is nothing out of the ordinary. when sukuna finally notices the harassment you’re going through, he doesn’t hold back.

wc. 2.2k-ish

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. fluff, angst (hurt to comfort). heian era. bullying. one mention of d.ecapitation. vile language. reader gets called ‘brat’. beta reading? what’s that

“she’s got nothing going on for her,” “right? i don’t get what he sees in her,” “tch—he’s only using her for her body anyway,” “duhh. he can’t be pleased by her looks. i mean, she’s really ugly. i bet he thinks of her as just ‘nother hole to use. . .”

and the shushed gossips continue. the concubines hanging around the garden have noticed your arrival, though do nothing to stop badmouthing you. they couldn’t care less if you hear what they say.

you’re used to it by now. you’ve adjusted to this life of yours as one of sukuna’s concubines. his favourite at that—which automatically makes you a victim of verbal (and sometimes physical) harassment. the other women in the ruthless sorcerer’s harem can’t stand you.

your eyes are glued to the path you’re walking on. your lady-in-waiting doesn’t utter a single word as well, holding her head low as she follows behind you. you know that the concubines will immediately pick on you if you make eye contact with one of them.

it’s moments like these where you actually miss sukuna. his intimidating presence and (in)direct threats would immediately make the others fall silent. you wouldn’t have to hear them call you nasty names.

though, unlucky you, sukuna’s out on business. uraume is left as a temporary supervisor of the entire estate. to make sure nothing goes wrong. despite all of that, you still find yourself in an unfortunate predicament.

“hey. we’re talking to you,” a female voice rings from behind you. it isn’t your lady-in-waiting, but the brown-haired woman whom you recognise as one of sukuna’s concubines. her name. . . you can’t recall.

she forcefully pushes your shoulder with two fingers. you stumble backwards, nearly tripping over the material of your kimono. you look down at the hem and notice a subtle muddy stain on the cloth now that you’ve accidentally stepped on it.

you curse the woman out under your breath. the kimono is one of your favorites since sukuna had it made and tailored to suit your taste.

“my apologies,” you mumble politely. you do not wish to make a scene as much as you want to defend yourself. not in front of those poor servants who are simply minding their business and tending to the garden.

the lady scoffs. another one joins. soon, four of them surround you, leaving you no place to escape the situation. with every step you take back, they take one forward. it’s intimidating, though you try to make it seem like you’re not afraid of their words.

“tell me,” the blonde one speaks up and her hand trails up your arm. she twirls a strand of your hair around her index finger before harshly tugging at it. you wince, but she doesn’t budge, “tell me what sukuna sees in a worthless slut like you.”

it’s about sukuna every time. you’re getting sick of the way they treat you because of something you can’t control. you don’t know why he favors you out of all the other women at his service. the way you’re treated because of something that you cannot change is getting frustrating.

the brown-haired woman follows the other lady. she pushes you until the back of your shoe bumps against the edge of a fountain. the grande fountain in the yard that you always love to admire.

the tugs at your hair get stronger. your patience is wearing thin. you take some time to reply to the other concubines, hoping to silence them for now.

you look up at the group surrounding you—a grin tugging at your lips as you decide to taunt them. you scoff, “hah. you cannot blame me for satisfying my lord better than all of you could do together.”

audible gasps sound from the group of concubines. they can’t believe you had the audacity to talk back and be disrespectful about it. the comment you made clearly struck a nerve. or in this case multiple.

“oh, you slut!” the blonde one shrieks, clearly more than upset by your doubts about her services as a concubine. in a flash of rage, she gives you a firm push, sending you backwards until you fall into the fountain with a loud splash.

your lady-in-waiting is the one gasping this time. she looks at you with great worry in her eyes, not knowing if she needs to go fetch uraume or not. she doesn’t have much say in the matter either way.

you’re humiliated by this. you can feel the water seep into the robes of your kimono, staining the beloved material. your hair is wet as well, the water droplets falling off the ends of your locks.

“pah, you look pathetic,” one of the lower ranking concubines chimes in—giggling at the unfortunate situation you got yourself in. the others follow with their own high pitched laughs, “serves you right.”

you don’t even know what you should do. your body feels heavy because of the water wetting your clothes. your nails drag along the fountain’s surface, trying to compose yourself before you do anything irrational.

you grit your teeth and take a deep breath. you’re shaking, both because of the cold settling over your body as well as the anger simmering inside of you. you open your mouth to say something, only to be interrupted.

by someone you didn’t expect to see any time soon.

“enough.”

the deep tone sends chills down your spine. the volume of the male voice nearly shakes the ground. it’s powerful, dominant and quite aggressive. as if the owner of the voice is pissed. no, more than that.

the group of concubines freeze, not even daring to turn around and face the unexpected visitor. you notice your lady-in-waiting immediately falling to her knees, bowing at the man whom you know very well.

“my lord,” you stammer out, being the first to speak up and address him. you’re surprised to see sukuna back this early from his business trip. he normally stays away from the estate for days on end.

sukuna’s footsteps are heavy. his strides are menacingly slow. the aura surrounding him makes the others shake—one concubine being smart enough to bow to him. the king of curses is not one to be messed with, especially when he’s angry.

“tsk. have you lost all your respect while i was gone?” sukuna growls, seeing how the group of concubines are frozen in place with fearful expressions on their faces. the fact that they’re not bowing before him worsens his temper, “kneel.”

he raises one hand and they all knew what was going to happen. you squeal and shut your eyes, hearing that familiar and dooming sound of slashes around you. it doesn’t sound like they’ve hit anything, so you peek through your eyelashes.

you see how the group of women have dropped to their knees the instant sukuna raised his hand in that specific manner. everyone knew just what that meant; death to anyone who’s got their head held high in his presence.

you’ve all seen enough people get decapitated by that same action to know that the sorcerer was not playing around.

sukuna scoffs. he walks up towards you, ignoring the pleas of the other concubines that are begging for his forgiveness. his bottom set of eyes look down at them with disdain before focusing on your figure again.

he silently stands still at the edge of the fountain. his large frame looms over you and you find yourself struggling to get up from the water to bow at him as well. you keep your eyes on your lap, “i’m sorry, my lord.”

sukuna hisses at your apology. a warning for you to shut your mouth. you’re apologising when it’s not your fault and that irritates him more than anything. two of his strong arms reach down to pick you up from your vulnerable position.

the king of curses hoists you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. he’s not bothered by the fact that you’re dripping wet. in fact, both of his left arms wrap around your torso in attempt to warm you up.

“stay. you’ll all be dealt with accordingly when i return,” sukuna harshly orders your aggressors as he turns around and walks away from the group. he carries you in his arms, not sparing a single glance at his concubines.

he doesn’t even care that he stepped on one of the women’s hands as he passed by. the high pitched shriek only serves to annoy him, which you notice by the way he squeezes your waist in response.

it’s silent between you two for a bit. sukuna steps inside of the estate, his ominous aura making you hesistant to speak. you decide to stay quiet for the sake of keeping the peace. for now.

sukuna’s breathing is a little heavy. he’s trying not to lash out or say anything hurtful. he doesn’t like raising his voice at you—but sometimes he feels like he needs to. especially when you land in situations like those.

“how long has this been going on?” sukuna asks through a heavy sigh. his red eyes are focused on the end of the hallway, where his chambers lay. the veins in his neck look like they could pop out any second now, “and don’t you dare fuckin’ lie to me, y’hear?”

you gulp. you’ve never been so nervous to answer him, ever. you attempt to respond, “uhm, for quite a while, my lord.”

sukuna breathes in sharply at the revelation. the fact that you did not specify your answer only made him think that it’s worse than you’re making it out to be. he stops in his tracks, two hands on your waist as he forces you to face him.

your body dangles in the air as sukuna makes you look at him from up close, showing you that dangerous look in his eyes. you do not dare to avert your gaze from his as he speaks.

“you should’ve told me the moment they started disrespecting you like that,” sukuna grunts. another big hand grabs your jaw firmly, squeezing your cheeks together. you whine as it hurt a little. he scoffs and releases your jaw with a light push, “pathetic.”

you feel your body get thrown into your original position once more. your head is upside down and your legs hang limply over his shoulder. you try to defend yourself in a quiet tone, “i thought you were too busy. i didn’t want to bother you with such unimportant matters.”

it’s true. as much as you wanted to tell sukuna about the mistreatment you were receiving, you knew how busy he was attending to more urgent business. you didn’t want to annoy him with your own problems that you could easily solve.

if only you could stand up for yourself.

“nonsense,” sukuna raises his voice in a moment of weakness, though remembers that you’ve probably been through enough for the day. he doesn’t need to add to that by treating you like shit as well.

he simply sighs it off, “unimportant, huh? ‘s that how you think i view you?”

you raise an eyebrow at sukuna’s last sentence. you’re at a loss for words. you know sukuna values you more than any of his other concubines—it’s the main reason you’re getting bullied for—yet you never heard him speak to you in such a surprisingly soft way.

almost like he’s disappointed that you don’t realise the extent of his favoritsm. he cares about you more than you actually think he does.

“i-i’m sorry, my lord,” you stutter. you really do not have a clue about what to say. all you can do is apologise as you’re left overthinking that one little sentence he said.

“what a brat,” sukuna quickly regains his usual stoic and stern composure. he reaches his chambers and enters his personal bathroom before putting you down on your feet. he looks down at your short stature, feeling the warmth of your body leave his skin once you’re separated.

sukuna watches you shiver. he wants to get angry at you for not telling him about anything that’s been going on while he’s not present, though he simply cannot at the moment.

he’ll let you off the hook for now. but, he’s surely going to give you your own special scolding after he’s taken care of the other concubines. the man grabs a large towel from nearby and messily wraps it around your upper body.

sukuna turns around to walk out of his bathroom, looking over his shoulder once more, “get dressed into something else before you catch a cold.”

he calls for a couple servants to tend to you while he’s away to take care of those deviant concubines. sukuna watches the three maids rush to your service, preparing you a new set of clothes as well as trying to dry you off.

his gaze lingers on you for more than is necessary, his jaw clenching at the sight of you trembling from the low temperatures you’re experiencing. sukuna’s going to make sure those other women pay for what they’ve done to you.

he leaves the bathroom after that, though not without leaving you an order to follow;

“you’re staying in my chambers tonight.”

[iamnotmereally]

It's been a decade and i can't let go :/