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gilbirda · 2 years

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Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 9

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

NOW WITH ART! -> How Jazz looks like when she knocks on Jason’s door

Companion piece: Jason’s POV of the second half of this chapter.

Context note: Essence, mentioned here, was the daughter of the leader of the All Caste, a hidden sect of warriors that trained Jason in the time before he came back to Gotham as Red Hood. They had an intense relationship, but it ended when he chose his revenge over living with the All Caste.

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“You guys KISSED?”

Jason was very tempted to turn off the comms and just abandon his brother without further explanation.

“I need all the details!”

“No.”

“C’mon Little Wing!” He heard the wind rush and the sounds of his brother jumping around the rooftops. “I’m so invested in your love story, I need this!”

“There’s nothing to tell. Shut up.”

“But you have a date-date, right? Are you guys going out!?”

Telling his brother about the date thing had been a mistake, Jason decided. He thought it would shut him up at once about the stupid family dinner, but it backfired and now he was trying to interrogate him for details, instead of, you know, do their job.

“Yes, it’s a date. I refuse to keep talking about this.”

Dick complained a little more, but yielded, for now. At least he would stop insisting on the family dinner thing-

“By the way, dinner has been postponed.”

Fuck.

“B has been called for some urgent Justice League mission. I mean, officially it is still on for Friday, if the mission goes well then he’s supposed to be back Friday morning. But we all know that nothing is ever that easy.”

Did a god hate him? Did he offend a powerful entity so much that now it was out for his blood?

“So unofficially family dinner is next Friday, instead of this Friday.” By his pause, his brother knew exactly what he was doing. “And since you guys are going out-”

“Stop. I’m not going to dinner, she’s not going to dinner.” He stopped right where he was. If Dick was going to continue this he was leaving, favor or no favor. “I won’t expose her to this family’s bullshit. She doesn’t deserve-”

“We will be on our best behavior! I promise.”

“It's not about that!” Nightwing kept quiet, probably surprised by the intensity in his voice. “She’s too good for this family, too good for all the vigilante bullshit and the secrets and constipated old men that can’t accept the truth and too good for- for…”

“Too good for you?” The older man said in a soft voice. Jason hated it. He hated that he was treating him like he would crumble down or flee if he raised his voice.

(Would Jazz prefer someone capable of being this soft?)

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” He turned to leave.

Dick didn’t try to talk him down. “I think you are perfect for each other.” He said instead. “And I think she loves you.”

“What the fuck do you know? You haven’t talked to her.”

“Excuse me, I teach her gymnastics.”

Oh right. The Sunday gymnastic classes. She had talked excitedly about them and how cool her teacher was - how patient he was with students and cracked jokes when she faceplanted to make her feel better.

Yeah. He was adult enough to recognize he got a bit jealous, but never got the courage to say that her teacher was his older brother.

(Would she ask him to introduce them properly? No, it didn’t make sense to get jealous. If she wanted to date his brother she could have asked him out already at the classes.)

“You haven’t seen her with me.” He finally grumbled, annoyed by his irrational thoughts.

“But I’ve seen how she looks at you,” Jason scoffed at the reminder that everyone had been spying on their dates. “She always has this spark in her eye when she looks at you and only you. As if you were the only person in the room with her.”

“Smooth.” Dick had always this way with words, the fucker, that people found charming.

(Would Jazz prefer it if he were that good with his words? He asked her out with the most pathetic speech ever. He still can’t understand how she said yes.)

“I’m just telling the truth, Jaybird.”

Was it true? He wanted it to be true. Feeling wanted, like he felt when he was around her, was addictive. He replayed the kiss in his mind again, how she looked him in the eye and asked if that was what he wanted. He could believe desire, he could understand infatuation, he would agree with a crush - but love was much more complex than that.

He had never been in love, but he had felt something close to it once with Essence a long time ago. He had been younger and foolish, and she had given him her attention and touched him like she wanted him. In the end he chose his revenge above everything else and with time and perspective he knew what they experienced wasn’t actually love.

Again, Essence didn’t look at him like Jazz looked at him. Maybe Dick was onto something.

“Robbery in progress, guys. This one is close to Hood.” That was Tim’s voice, who was running comms today. He had connected with the main channel for this patrol only, and the usual buzz was annoying, but it was part of the deal with patrolling with Nightwing.

Neither continued the conversation while the situation was dealt with, or even after that. Dick even quit the jabs about Jazz and their relationship, instead choosing to tell him about what he had done with his life all these years. Jason asked something here or there, but his mind was far away.

Once he was home after patrol, around four in the morning, he stood in silence in his living room still in his suit. Here is where it happened, where he finally took the leap and landed in a relationship with his neighbor. He still didn’t know how it worked - logically, it made sense since both had flirted a lot and had met up plenty of times, their compatibility off the charts. It made sense in his mind, but his heart still couldn’t believe it was real.

Still…

He glanced at where she had been standing when he came back from cleaning the cut. He saw her eyes glow green for a split second, he was sure. How and why he had no idea, but it was an alarming item in the list of things that didn’t make sense about her.

Would she tell him her secrets? What kind of secrets were those? Was she a metahuman and was hiding from Batman? Metas weren’t welcomed in Gotham and people thought it was because Batman hated them, even if the truth was much simpler - would you fight a Jokerized Superman? A mind controlled Wonder Woman? Metas were vulnerable in Gotham and a potential danger.

Even if he explained this to her he wasn’t sure she would like it if he overstepped when she hadn’t shared her secret just yet.

He just… He had to trust her to come to him with the truth.

And then what? Would he show her his suit and confess about his other life? Tell her what he had to actually do on Thursday? That he couldn’t go on dates because he had people to kill, a drug operation to run, a whole bunch of Lieutenants to keep in line?

Would she be horrified? He would understand it if she did, even if it hurts.

Would she ask him to change? Would her love be conditional, after all? If she agreed to be with him at the price of giving up all of this, would he do it?

He shook his head. It was stupid to consider this. Also, he was jumping too ahead of the story, there was no need to lose his mind about something that could just never happen.

One step at a time - first he needed to go on a date with her that Friday. He was tempted to call her and move the date to next Friday out of spite, but then he’d have to explain why.

Whatever. He needed to change out of the suit, shower and then try to sleep.

The memory of the kiss passed through his mind again.

Try to sleep. ‘Try’ being the key word.

***

Jazz didn’t sleep. Maybe an hour or two, at most, because there was a moment just before sunrise where she didn’t remember falling asleep. It was a bit after she heard movement in Jason’s apartment, including the sound of the shower turning on. Patrol? Did he have patrol after dinner?

Oh dear, she hoped she didn’t hold him up for something important.

The thing is, she didn’t sleep. And coffee wasn’t a substitute for sleeping. So she went to work feeling like death and not really in the frame of mind to deal with whatever craziness the Asylum had in store for her.

Sleep deprived as she was, her mind was half rotating yesterday’s kiss and half panicking about her revelation in the bathroom after leaving his apartment.

There were two important sides fighting inside of her, one for each option she had to ponder.

First option: not date Jason. Dating required a lot of work, time, trust and dedication; and while she was a very dedicated person, and when she set her mind on it she could do an insane amount of work, she was aware that starting a relationship with a lie was unhealthy.

At best, she could damage whatever they had built, all the trust and companionship; at worst, she could get into Red Hood’s shit list and maybe Batman’s too, if Jason decided to put together all the clues on how weird she was and sold her out to the man.

Second option: date Jason. Neither said anything serious for the moment and they only said to try a date and see where it goes for them. There weren’t conversations about long term or compromise or revealing secrets. She could play by ear and sneakily find out if Jason knows about his liminality and maybe help him deal with it in exchange for his forgiveness for lying to him about herself.

Who knows, she may even get away with it since Red Hood was Danny’s favorite Gotham’s (anti)hero, so he wouldn’t be too mad about her getting distracted from her mission and revealing his secret.

It was around the time she had to go home, feeling like crying from exhaustion, that she decided that fuck it, she was going to date the man. Stand by what she said, date him, and slowly and carefully reveal that there was something different in her, that she knew about him, until he confronted her with the truth. And happily ever after.

Easy. Flawless plan.

Or maybe after a nap she could think of a better plan. Yes, a nap was a good idea.

She woke from her nap feeling well rested and maybe she dreamt about a certain neighbor and his arms around her, so that’s cool. Not really wanting to give up her dreams, she turned in her bed and looked out of the window, sighing when she saw it was already dark. She had some hours before her usual bedtime, and she could still try some yoga and see if it helped her sleep at a reasonable hour.

She was pondering the pros and cons of getting out of bed to make dinner when she heard it - the living room window was being opened. Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe it was Jason, well, Red Hood, coming to check on her? Maybe he wanted to confess about his identity before their date tomorrow?

The steps were silent, though, quieter than how Hood’s were that time she brought him to her apartment. So it wasn’t him.

Maybe a ghost?

Her ghost sense didn’t activate, but it didn’t work for halfas and liminals in general, so she didn’t trust it at all if it was Vlad or an unknown liminal.

Alright.

She quietly searched under her pillow for her staff, a modified version of the one her mother used. With a click of a button, the staff transformed from its compact form to the combat ready, full-length form.

Her steps were quieter than her intruder as she moved in the shadows, her training kicking in even after so long not needing this amount of stealth. It was like riding a bicycle. If she ever learned to ride one.

The stranger was also in the shadows and with his back to her, but she could see it was male, tall and not Jason. She didn’t hesitate, jumping at the stranger who decided to enter her apartment without permission and bonked him in the head with her staff before he could even turn around to see her.

He fell to the floor, completely out cold.

She sighed and re-contracted the staff, putting it on her kitchen table before crouching to turn around the body. Even with eyes adapted to the dark, she didn’t recognize the silhouette of who had tried to attack her in her own house until she saw his face.

Nightwing? What the heck?

Jazz groaned. Great, she had attacked one of the vigilantes. Amazing. Fantastic. First she puts a cream that could have done real damage to Red Hood, and now she has an unconscious known associate of Batman’s on her living room floor.

In her defense, people don’t usually sneak in girls' apartments at night without bad intentions. She was acting as any other woman living alone in Gotham would have done. That’s it. She was innocent!

Jazz watched the unconscious body at her feet for a moment, considering her options. What could she do now? Think logically, Jasmine.

She could wait until he woke up, but that meant: deal with having attacked him and how he would react, deal with what he wanted from her since he was in her apartment, and (potentially) deal with other bats or birds coming after her.

Or - she could throw him out of the window and let him sleep it off in the fire escape stairs. Outside was cold, and it felt cruel to just abandon him to the elements, but it was the safest option for her. She was trained and she had her favorite weapon at hand, but she had seen the crazy stuff the bats could do and she wasn’t sure she could fight one on one any of them.

Jazz tentatively kicked the vigilante’s side, jumping back in case he woke up.

He didn’t.

Also, she was starting to regret hitting him so hard and was thinking about placing him on her sofa and putting a blanket over him. Would he like tea? She couldn’t cook but she knew how to make tea, it was her only redeeming quality according to Danny. Not that he liked tea in general, but he said hers at least didn’t taste like burnt leaves.

Focus on the unconscious vigilante, Jazz.

There was a loud sound from Jason’s apartment, followed by a curse. He was still at home. Would he know what to do with an unconscious vigilante? She saw them standing together on the roof the other day, so they must at least know each other.

Was Red Hood friends with the bats? They were not enemies, since Batman stopped chasing after him, that’s for sure. She wanted to ask what was the story behind the cease fire.

But she couldn’t until he told her about his identity himself. Ugh! This was so annoying.

Focus.

Jason was at home. She could just walk over there and ask what to do in case you have a passed out vigilante at your home, you know, the usual. Or maybe she could ask him if he could come over real quick and help her with something?

Both options made her seem so suspicious, though. Even if he weren’t Red Hood and wasn’t trained to expect traps and such, a normal person wouldn’t just brush off something like that.

Okay. She could go there and explain the situation, ask if he wanted to help and then ask if he could come over to help with the situation.

Their kiss from yesterday flashed in her mind, the feeling of his lips on hers vivid in her memory.

She groaned into her hands. Not the moment for this, Jasmine. She had time for an existential crisis after dealing with Nightwing.

Bracing herself, she walked to the door and opened it, her eyes adapting to the bright hallway. It was easy, she only needed to drop completely unannounced and ask her neighbor, who was secretly a vigilante but she wasn’t supposed to know, to deal with a passed out Nightwing in her living room.

Wait, were they friends? Would he get angry at her for attacking a friend?

She was overthinking this. She just needed to go over there and ask.

Bracing herself again, Jazz stepped into the hallway-

What if Nightwing woke up while she was bothering her neighbor? What if he went to her apartment to snoop around and steal something? What if he came here to investigate her-

She did a one-eighty and marched back to the still unconscious vigilante. She had to carry him, there was no way he could be left alone in her apartment, no matter how brief her asking Jason for help would be.

Jazz hesitated. Carrying him wasn’t a problem for her - one of the perks of her liminality was the strength and she knew she could lift the man, no problem. It was that, well…

She blushed.

For the longest time, Jazz has had a crush on the hero. Since he started making headlines, she latched onto the celebrity hero like a teenager with a crush because she was a teenager with a crush. She had a brief career as a fanclub president for a moment there; but after a while she decided that she needed to “grow up” and ripped all her posters from the walls and stored them in a box. The box was still hidden in her childhood room’s closet, to never be seen by anybody.

And now she had the chance to touch him. It felt surreal. It also felt kinda wrong to feel her heart flutter as she knelt and grabbed the hero’s arm and leg to pull him into a fireman’s carry.

If only the people that wrote all that NightwingxReader fanfiction back in the day saw her now.

Jazz shook her head, thinking about her - uh, were they dating? Jason was her boyfriend, right? Ugh, they really needed to talk about that. Not now though, as she was going to carry a passed out man to his apartment.

Now feeling guilty for hitting the vigilante AND feeling weird for remembering her celebrity crush on him, Jazz marched back out and was soon ringing the doorbell of Jason’s place.

She heard his heavy steps approach the door and stop without asking who was there. He was probably looking at her through the peephole, so she smiled awkwardly at it.

“Hey.” Jazz shifted her grip on the man around her shoulders so she could secure him with one hand, using the other to wave.

Jason opened his door.

“Hello???” His eyes were of the unconscious vigilante instead of on her.

Good thing, because he wasn’t wearing a shirt and it was a bit distracting. She wasn’t expecting to see that today. Also, he had so many scars, that it was difficult for her to not stare.

“I can explain.”

His only response was to slowly blink and then start laughing. Jazz stood there awkwardly in the hallway, very aware of the absurdity of the situation, and very aware that Nightwing could wake up at any moment and she didn’t want it to be while he was on her person.

“Please, tell me what happened,” Jason finally said, stepping away from the door to let her and her cargo in, “and spare no detail.”

Relieved, she went into the apartment, vaguely remembering the comment about vampires and needing permission to enter. She was not a vampire, that was Vlad’s shtick, thank you very much.

“Wait, I need to take a photo.” He stopped her before she could let the vigilante down on the sofa.

“Why?”

“To remember this moment?” By his smirk as he grabbed the phone and opened the camera app, his motivations weren’t those exactly.

Yeah, these two were friends.

She weakly smiled at the camera, not really sure what she looked like after having a sleepless night, a horrible day at work and a nap. Her hair was probably all over the place.

“Ok. Explain.”

Jazz let the body drop on the sofa and sighed.

“Broke into my apartment. I got scared and just… hit him.”

Jason’s smile got bigger. “And he let you?”

“Um, he didn’t see me.”

“And you just hit him?”

“Yeah. Bonked him in the head.”

If Jazz had to describe the way he looked at her, she would use words like “heart eyes” and “lovesick”. She blushed and looked away, noticing the guns and the holsters on the kitchen island they had dinner in, ready to be strapped to his legs before going out and doing vigilante things.

She acted as if she didn’t see anything and turned back to Jason checking on Nightwing, poking him here and there.

“He seems fine to me.”

“I didn’t hit that hard,” he glanced at her with an eyebrow raised, as if he knew better. Had he seen her make unnatural displays of strength? She had been careful, or at least she had tried to. “Anyway, can you help me or not?”

He blinked slowly. “With what.”

Jazz narrowed her eyes. “About Nightwing?”

“You want me to get rid of the body?” He sounded confused but highly amused by the whole situation.

“What? No!”

“Because I can get rid of-”

“-m not dead.”

“Oh great, the princess awakens.”

“Shut up Jaybird.” He grumbled, trying to sit up on the sofa.

Alright. Ok. This is fine. Nightwing knew Jason out of his suit, and probably viceversa, but neither knew she knew.

It was time for her to go, before she made things worse.

"Okay, I see everything's fine, then." She laughed nervously, pointedly not looking at the costumed vigilante. "Thanks, Jay. See you tomorrow?"

"Huh-"

She didn't give him time to process the reality of the situation, kissing him on the cheek and patting his shoulder. Being this close, she noticed a big scar on his chest - one line from each shoulder to the sternum and then down all the way to his belly button. She didn’t comment on it, but stored the information for another moment where she wasn't running away from an awkward situation.

"Bye ~"

With that, she did a very familiar escape from Jason's apartment. Twice in less than twenty four hours, huh? What was it about Jason's place that made her run away like this?

As she closed the door, she glimpsed at the shirtless vigilante clearly wearing Red Hood's pants and glaring at Nightwing, who was looking at her. Maybe. He had those whiteout lenses, so it was difficult to discern.

Back safe and sound in her apartment, Jazz took a moment to breathe.

Ok. That was something that happened. She was ready for today to end, but was scared about what tomorrow had in store for her.

She prayed to anybody that listened for her date to be uneventful. Please. Just one good date. Was that too much to ask?

She realized too late that with her Fenton luck, she probably just jinxed herself.

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#danny phantom #batman dc #danny phantom fanfiction #jazz fenton #jasmine fenton #jason todd #jazz x jason #anger management ship #jazz/jason #dp x dc #dc x dp #batpham #friendly neighborhood vigilante #neighbors au #dpxdc

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thestrangestthing89 · 1 year

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Mike Character Analysis: Season 3- Part 1

You can find the rest here:

Season 1. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Season 2. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

So now we are up to season 3 and it's about 6 months after the Snow Ball. The kids are 14 and it's the summer before high school. It is made clear early on by the party that Mike and El have been going off alone together "all summer" and they are annoyed. But here's the thing - all summer means about 2 weeks. Because school lets out mid-June (early June sometimes) and it's July 4th. It's implied they weren't going off alone during the school year (Dustin is surprised by their behavior so he missed it during the weeks he was away) and this makes sense because they were in school. El has some things from the party around her room so it's also implied that they came to visit her together. (Correction: Dustin has been away at camp for a month. However there is something weird happening here with time. Because Hopper later says that Mike has been over every day for 6 months but the part says it's just been the summer.)

So it's really just been 2 weeks of Mike and El alone making out all day - incredibly inappropriate behavior for their age and stems entirely from their co-dependency and trauma (more on this later). So Mike and El really weren't bonding for months and we are told they do nothing but make out. So add the 1 week they spent together in season 1 and these two have spent very little time together. Which makes all their making out even more inappropriate - because they are 14 and all we see is them making out and they don't know each other. They never talk and everyone who interacts with them, ABSOLUTELY NOTICES THIS IS WRONG AND SAYS SOMETHING. There is not one member of the party or one adult who thinks the way Mike and El are behaving is ok. Will, Lucas, and Max have clearly been talking about it together - they are annoyed and rolling their eyes. Dustin calls it bullshit. And we all know how Hopper feels. Joyce, while not nearly as dramatic as Hopper, is in agreement with him. She advises him not to be a cop about it because it will backfire and gives him great advice about how to talk to them about spending time apart (that Hopper only sort of follows). She does clarify that it's just kissing but she also recognizes that Hopper is making a good point and helps him because no mature adult who has ever been in a healthy relationship thinks that Mike and El's behavior is cute. Which is why most of the people who ship them together are young. Because at this point in the story, a lot of the audience is getting annoyed. Not only at the immature middle school relationship dynamics of Mike and El (and Lucas and Max) but at Mike specifically. We don't see Mike's point of view on the show like we did in the first two seasons and now he has gone through yet another major behavioral shift. He isn't as quick to lash out as last season (though he still does) but he's also not acting like himself - a point Will will make later. But here's where a lot of the disconnect with Mike comes from: people are once again simply dismissing his behavior as him being a teen and not looking deeper. Only now, part of this is because they are struggling to understand him. Because now his behavior is a problem, so labeling it as hormonal teen behavior doesn't quite fit since other characters are calling it out as abnormal. And we all know at this point that the audience believes what other characters are directly stating. In this case, though, unlike in the past, the characters are correct (look at what they are showing and not just telling) which introduces a complex problem and one that is making people uncomfortable to look too closely at. What is going on with Mike? Because it's something. The Mike we know wouldn't ditch his friends. The audience doesn't have a frame of reference for why Mike is acting like this with El so they once again go with the easy answer - he's a teen. His attitude with Hopper - he's a teen. Only now those answers are fitting even less but the audience isn't understanding it because they aren't understanding what internalized homophobia is and how it makes people behave. Because that's the thing that's going on with Mike. And it's the only thing, THE ONLY THING, that explains his behavior in a way that allows for his character to be complex and emotionally intelligent without dismissing his feelings and trauma. The only way I can think to explain this behavior in a way that people might understand is by referencing Dawson's Creek here. The Duffer's have mentioned this is their favorite show (and it is for most of us millennials) and there are many comparisons I could make between the two shows. I debated putting this in an entirely different post but I think it needs to be said here. Because part of the reason people don't get Mike is because they haven't seen this behavior depicted much in media. And if they haven't experienced it personally or seen it, it's going to be difficult to identify.

Part 2

#byler #mike wheeler #gay mike wheeler #will byers #anti mileven #mike x will

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dragynkeep · 2 years

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I get it can be viewing a situation with another character as something to heal, a coping mechanism.

Writing nightmares and episodes and shit, fine by me, as long as you recognize it or depict it as something that shouldn’t be happening, yet happen. That goes for abuse, abuse should never happen, etc.. It’s always in movies and shit. Though I do not agree with writing children with old people in sexual situations on any account. That is written CP... Anything sexual with children in a manner that you yourself are writing to be attractive or “hot” is gross, in reality it really is.

It does happen to people, writing it so that people know it’s a bad thing and the weight of it and how much it can have an effect on someone, probably better? Instead of you know, “normalizing it”

I would not want some 20+ year old writing about me like that against my will. These characters aren’t real, yet you have to think about it. Thinking things through is always important.

I just don’t agree with it, you’re not gonna stop because of this I know. Though, I implore you to think about it harder and why is it that you find this Fun to write, or depict.

It’s not being “uptight” it’s going along with gut, experience and thought. I have been groomed before and all that shit, stuff I haven’t even told anyone. It’s just that personally I wouldn’t want anyone to go through the shit I went through, or what has anyone went through.

And the proshipping community IS a safe space for pedophiles. Everywhere. It’s like a ground where they have literally every damn say. You can’t just say “no its not” because that’s like closing your eyes and pretending someone isn’t there. I have seen plenty of people in the proshipping community be outed as pedophiles. Its fucked. Not necessarily saying all of them are, but it’s still fucked because WHY are you giving into that behavior.

Not to mention minors get into this community and that has them vulnerable. They just get into it and learn “oh its fine to be under 18 and with an adult” when its fucking not fine but they believe it because they learn that from adults or other children who have been groomed by adults who happened to be their “friend”.

It’s a fucking system man, one moment you’re fine with some bullshit, the next you have now convinced a teenager it’s fine that an adult is talking to them sexually because they see it in fanfiction and as something desirable.

You can't normalise something that society sees as wrong. Someone writing fanfiction about age gaps and noncon is not gonna suddenly change everyone's perspective any more than Game of Thrones did.

All this says is you want adults to baby teenagers on the internet. Outside of tagging triggering content and warning those who are affected by it to not read it, we are not required to do anymore. If you are old enough to be on these sites unsupervised by your parents, you are old enough to make decisions not to engage in fiction that is not written for you.

Because a proshipper is just someone who believes that fiction does not equal 1:1 with reality. Fiction can conjure up feelings like happiness or sorrow, but it cannot on its own tell someone that something socially unacceptable is actually okay. What is needed for it to be able to do that is ignorance, and that's where you have propaganda. Teenagers should not be getting their socially acceptable behaviour lessons from a buncha strangers on the internet writing and drawing shit. That's on their parents.

Also the fact that you literally wrote "written CP" is fucking gross. There is no such thing as written CP, because it has to be pictures of an idenfiable child who is real. Not pixels, real. Because at the end of the day, that is a real human being that is being hurt and exploited for other people's gain. To equate that with a fictional character going through a story is dishonest and you should be ashamed.

Both of us have been groomed. We have been hurt in horrible ways, so no, you don't get to use the "I was groomed" card to shame other survivors because you personally don't like it.

Cause that's what this long ass ask is about. You're not being smart, you're not helping people, you're shaming them for doing stuff that you personally don't like. And rather than be an adult and click off or simply don't interact, you get on your high horse and you look down at the proshippers who are gross and have nasty likes in fiction. Grow tf up.

Any proshipper who is one knows that pedophiles are not welcome in this community. Are there gonna be some? Yeah, because pedophiles use anything they can to groom children and abuse them. It's not the object they use, it's the trust they build with their victim in order to get them to do what they want. You think they just sprung up when fanfiction became more widespread and easily accesible? No, you fucking doughnut.

And I've seen many antis being outed as pedophiles. Almost like every community is in danger of them, lmao.

You don't have to agree with proshipping. You don't have to like it. No one is making you.

But you are literally the one coming into proshippers' spaces, many of whom talk about their past with abuse and assault, and shame them into going back into privacy with things that don't have to be private. Why don't you block and create your own space away, so that you're comfortable with other people who like the same stuff that you do?

Oh wait, cause you'd rather sit in my inbox and cry over it. Piss off.

#proshipping #discourse #answered #luke.txt

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squishyfruitloop · 1 year

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Buckle up, bitches. Because I'm about to tell you a story.

I've known I was queer since high school, but due to some DEEPLY INGRAINED homophobic opinions (🖕you, traditional Christianity) I refused to admit it until YEARS later. Like after uni later. The way it kind of came out to my mum and sister (the only ones in the family to know) wasn't the best way to tell them (bundled up in an argument and some revelations about some traumatic ass shit that happened--s****l a*****t). I had my first real girlfriend after that. Younger than me, but not by too much. Her mum and I worked at the video store together, and we'd hang out as a group and watch new films (mum was way older). Almost a year later, we broke up. Oh well...

As an adult, I've embraced who I am. I'm not out to my family because of the whole BURN IN HELL YOU SINNER bullshit that they practice (not you know "love your neighbor" and Jesus said "STAY IN YOUR FUCKING LANE"). My students take one look at me and go, yep. QUEER SCHOOL MUM! They know they're safe to talk to me. About 3.5 years ago... maybe a little longer... I started to realize I was also poly. Now, I'd met and become engaged to my husband at that point (three year anniversary yesterday, boy buddy--got married on the 13th). But that's how I felt. It took a while for me to tell him.

Since then, I've had a couple relationships. My now wife--yeah, my wife--is my other best friend. We met because of Tumblr. Because of one of my Young Bucks fan fics on my writing blog ("I sat bolt upright in bed and realized THAT'S WHY THEY HAVE A KID NAMED RJ"). We bonded over our love of wrestling and Fozzy and classic rock. We wrote a whole thing over Tumblr message that is basically the reason we're together (Jericho really IS the cupid of rock). She is EVERYTHING I could ever have asked for and more. Yeah, she's hot and sexy and fine AF. Yeah, she's funny and makes me laugh and reminds me that being my unique self is amazing. Yeah, she is an amazing mum in her own right and loves and cares for everyone around her. Yeah, she's like me and a little slutty (a lot slutty) for Daddy Jericho. But the best thing about being with my wife? The absolutely best thing?

Every single day, she makes me be a better version of myself. She shows me kindness and grace and respect and sacrifice. She sees me, hears me, tells me hard truths when I need to hear them. She allows me to be vulnerable and trusts me to be supportive of her vulnerability. She holds up a mirror that reflects who I WANT to be.

And that means being honest. It means facing my doubts and my jealousy and being able to recognize that yes, I have a mental health disorder that makes my emotions hard to regulate in personal relationships. But no, that isn't an excuse for not taking ownership of how my emotions affect my behaviors and then affect others.

She gives me courage. Courage to fly 3,000 miles to a country where I knew no one but her where I stayed for a week. She makes sacrifices for me and our relationship just as I do, too. She fights for us. WE fight for US. Our Family.

In short, my wife is my person. She is the place I feel safest letting down my walls and showing who I am. (Husband too, of course, but this ain't about you,boy buddy, so stop being so diva). @spaghetti-hoop, I love you with all my heart. Forever and ever. Amen.

P.S. Also, who gives a fuck if baldy saw the end of Schitt's Creek? He doesn't get to wear gorgeous headbands like Alexis and definitely wouldn't know how to respond to...

#fruitloop and spaghetti hoop #attorneys at law #blackpool cuddle club #squishy and softie #ncpd #the kbg gkb family #s3b2 #personal #polyamarous #polyam #polyamorous #polyamorous relationships #mah wife

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incarnateirony · 1 year

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Okay I think I figured out the break on Why All My Friends Keep Doing The Thing I Keep Saying Not To Fucking Do.

Because I've been reading back on the convos and DMs, and while in a few the smart reactive ones went "OH FUCK I'M DOING IT TOO SORRY", others that are usually intelligent just had this whistle over their heads.

And every single one of them, when I grabbed them by the nose and pointed them at it, said "nono, that's not what I'm doing, this is (unique case, I swear)".

Please. Please ladies please. Please stop thinking every case of discomfort you encounter is a Unique Case. You all think it's a Unique Case. I can have ten of you in my DMs at the same time all thinking you're Unique Cases. You can't all be Uncomfortable and you can't all be Unique.

No, this is not a unique case. I came in with a "hot" opinion which realistically was Mildly Warm just blunt, apologized for even that, and someone didn't want to process that. This is not a unique case. This is an every day human interaction. People cause friction if you aren't forcing them into homogeneity. If you don't drive out all other demographics with all other perspectives by being weird like this, this shit will happen in life. You process it and work it out or you move on.

Every single time, this happens. Because, oh my god, I'm abrupting woman space by manning loudly. And whether you realize it or not, not only is it not a unique case, but it is a microaggression, especially when you run to your friends to ensure you have a whole group to bombard the trans man with first, and ESPECIALLY ESPECIALLY if he smelled your bullshit coming, said not to do that thing, you said you didn't know what he was talking about and then proceed to immediately do that exact thing.

And so help you god if you try that "would you say that to a man?" shit on a trans man and don't get instantly blocked for that shittery, consider yourself blessed and a beloved friend that trans man is already considering "attempting to rebuild relationship with" from that short stunt whether you recognize it or not. Because you have instantly made yourself unsafe. You are too lost in your Man Bad brain to even remember we are fully aware of the woman perspective and are telling you we are embarrassed by your behavior as both. And that's why radfems hate us so much and you say you hate them but you're acting just like them.

Stop it. If you're my friend and ally, just fucking stop it. Like if you have ever EVER done that EVER walk to a mirror right now, say "Fuck you for saying that, now fix it" and start listening to what the fuck I am saying.

Guys I don't know how to break it to you. That is literally forming pack behavior to aggress a single member of an infinitely smaller minority, and doing it in a way where you're still pretending you're like a victim that needs this kind of support, instead of an adult that can have a 1:1 conversation. You do not need ~protection from us from whatever patriarchal bullshit is making you squirrel around from us. We are not a ~threat. You have zero justification for this behavior. None.

At that point, that is not only a microaggression. That is a choice. The boundary has been clearly drawn, and you decide your case is So Unique over Mild Discomfort that you will step over it anyway while lying to my face and telling me you don't know what I'm talking about. Like the fucking Good Place. It's all transmasc panic cactuses. I can tell you're about to give me another fucking cactus. Do not give me another fucking cactus. Look at me being surprised, it's another fucking cactus. Their names are Concerned, Uncomfortable, and Upset.

Guys on my life these aren't unique and special cases. These are just life, and people sharing space, and I am not going to be forced to keep shrinking back my space because people are used to living in internet spaces where nobody can even speak too loud because someone else hasn't processed their personal shit.

I repeat. I did not have this issue when I identified as a woman in this fandom. I do not have this issue in male spaces. I do not have this issue in real life. Do the math on what's happening here, fam.

The whole world can't be built to Your and Only Your Comfort. Other people have social needs too, and you can't keep shunting it on whatever poor man tries to coexist with you.

I cannot emphasize enough that I Do Not Care What Gender Tag You Are. If you are AFAB, and have chosen ANY OTHER GENDER BUT MAN and not unpacked why so few of us are here, there is a problem. Because those of us that choose men aren't "choosing" it like choosing how to express a gender. We have legit biological things going on, nervous system things going on.

We're not defying a culture role we are literally men, or were at least some weird point of half-men in development enough that our gears got stuck and we needed to shift things around a bit for things to register correctly. And I'm not talking facial plastic surgery. These aren't the same thing. We didn't choose it. We're not expressing hostility against you as men in some chosen culture role. Unlock that shit from your head and stop taking out your trauma induced misandry on us.

We get it. We lived as women. We hate men too. It's what makes this journey so goddamn hard, okay? We have to unpack all our misandry and trauma and daddy issues to even let ourselves deal with whatever the hell my genitals are doing. But you assholes aren't making it any easier when the second I'm passably male all my friends start acting afraid of me and doing this shit. It's not okay.

#trans

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miguenhasthoughts · 1 month

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TW: Domestic Abuse. Child Abuse. Neglect. Drug Abuse. Mental Breakdown. Mention of Suicide Attempt.

Perception is a funny thing. Some memories seem so clear yet others in the moment might carry a whole other experience.

I’ve been told that I used to hide behind the couch when my parents would fight. I have memories of being behind the couch, I remember the texture of the carpet, I remember it would around seven and sun was already setting. It made the room dark as the light lowered second by second. I remember looking up at my parents as they stood in the kitchen. I don’t remember the fighting. It’s a funny thing. I thought my parents were happily married.

When my dad went to jail. I thought that somehow made me a bad as well. Why would I think that? I hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet I feared I would. When you are a kid you sort of assume you’ll follow in your parent’s footsteps steps. My family hated my dad, they had good reason. Yet they all took it out me because I was his child. Maybe I was guilty I thought.

I lived with my sister for a year. She didn’t make me go to school. She’d put thick blankets on the windows to keep it nice and dark in the house. She let me play video games all day and she would bring me all my favorite snacks. My BIL would be gone all day and only show up at night. He knew something wasn’t right but instead of being an adult he would pick on me for letting myself be spoiled. I didn’t know at the time was I was being appeased so I wasn’t made aware of the neglect going on. My BIL would push masc stereotypes on me and it made me uncomfortable. He would come and argue with my sister then leave again. I would play a game with them, I would help them screw the hinges off the doors when one of them would lock themselves away from the other. It didn’t click for me how bad they were abusing eachother. My sister would treat stabbing her husband as a cutesy thing. As a child adults can downplay their bad behavior where it’s not as scary as it should be. I would find out later that my sister and her husband were on meth.

My dad was deported. He said he’d get therapy when he got out. That wasn’t the case once he knew he would get deported. Instead he continued to manipulate my mom by using me as leverage. I didn’t know I played a part in the choices these adults made. He was a bastard of a man. He had a smile smeared with shit that most wouldn’t notice. My dad made me uncomfortable after that point. It wasn’t long till I found out he was cheating on my mom. After we moved to a whole other country because of him. I didn’t know right away and before I found out my mom would be hysterical, screaming her head off because she had enough of his bullshit. My dad tried to manipulate me to his side saying my mom was crazy while he stood calm and quiet. Classic abuse tactic. Yet I never fell for it. I trusted my mom more than I could ever trust him.

I was a teenager now and I was more keen on my rights and wrongs. Not that it mattered. My mom suffered temporary amnesia due to the abuse. She didn’t even recognize me. My father tried to convince me she was faking. That’s how much of a bastard he was. I saw my mom stab my dad. A few times. My dad would do this thing where he would choke my mom and then call me into the room and attempt to gaslight my mom saying he wasn’t just suffocating her while she pleaded to me and what had just occurred. That fucked with my perception. Yet I always believed my mom.

When my mom left. My dad would go on week long trips. He’d leave me money to survive. I was 15. At the time I thought it was pretty neat. I had all the independence I wanted. I started to drink and smoke and stay out all night. I wouldn’t eat so I can use the money for partying. I didn’t realize I was being neglected again. I tell this story to people and they are horrified when I remember it as a fond time in my childhood. Though there was a lingering feeling of being unlovable. This would be around the time of my first suicide attempt. So why do I hold those memories so dear despite how awful they actually were?

By the time I finally lived with my mom again. Back in the states. I was so confused why my parents tried to make it work. When I moved out on my own. My mom planned on moving back with my dad. Despite all the fighting and abuse. I didn’t get it. I was told all my life that no matter what I should still love my dad. So at the time I did. I was never taught to hold someone accountable. At some point my mom came to her senses and she bowed out at the last second and broke up with my dad. I remember being on the phone with my dad. I brought up all the bad things he did and how it’s probably for the better. I told him that I didn’t think his past actions made him a bad person forever, that I believed he could grow as a person and that I would always be there for him because he was my father and that I loved him.

That was the last time I talked to my dad. He ghosted me after that. I remember he reciprocated the support on the phone but there must’ve been a point where his wants outweighed his love for me. Then those feelings of neglect and feeling unlovable returned. Three months later it was my birthday. I remember that birthday. My mom tried to reassure me he would call me for my birthday. He didn’t. Usually people are busy for my birthday so all I could depend on was my immediate family and they let me down. Now when my birthday comes around I always feel depressed and unlovable.

This trend keeps happening in my life. It’s hard not to think the problem lays with me. Yet no one can tell me what is wrong with me. All I have is this trauma I have the privilege of sharing.

#trauma dumping #abandoment issues #venting #it’s way too late for this shit.#I thought things would be different #perception is fucked #ghosted #trigger warning #suicide warning #domestic abuse #drug abuse #neglect

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sepublic · 2 years

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It actually legit terrifies me that I didn’t even pick up on how manipulative Philip was. The thought never even crossed my mind, until Lilith actually pointed out the suspicious convenience of his words! Like holy shit, if I was there Philip would’ve made a fool of me, Belos really is GOOD at manipulation and mind games...

And I’m glad for Lilith, that she’s unlearned and healed enough to recognize these sorts of red flags, and that she’s used her experience with them to recognize them! Because honestly... We all think we’re too smart, too clever to fall for an abuser’s tricks. We all look at cult victims and think to ourselves we’d NEVER fall for that; We don’t really know nor comprehend the pipeline and how easy it is to slip.

So having Lilith, an actual survivor of Philip’s bullshit, recognize what’s going on? In a sense using that experience to guide and warn Luz of this kind of behavior? Not only is it a good lesson (in what to look out for, but also how EASY it is), but it’s also neat seeing Lilith be a mentor for Luz in ways that Eda can’t. She has her own worthwhile things to offer, particularly as someone who’s seen the darkness and managed to come back from it. Lilith DID make those mistakes, so she can advise future generations on how to avoid them.

So not only did she move past her trauma, Lily is helping others avoid what she had to go through, just like so many other characters; And it feels GOOD to finally see her join them! After being so toxic and indoctrinated into unhealthy ideals, Lilith is finally stepping up, growing, and maturing; To the point where she can actually cultivate others, not use them as tools like she did with Amity. The development, she’s no longer stunted like she was before, and it’s contrasted with how Lilith is more openly kiddish in a sense?

Again, not just the message that it’s okay to have fun like a kid, even if you still have to be mature. But also the juxtaposition, how in the coven, Lilith tried SO hard to sell herself as some mature, professional adult who scoffs at Eda’s childish antics, only to clearly fall for them. To clearly still be a kid desperate for her sister, trying to cover up her mistake AND fix it. But now Lilith is legit, she has no shame in giggling and having fun and being a nerd, and it coincides with how she’s no longer insecure and trying to put on a facade.

Being mature isn’t about the superficial appearance as Lilith shows, and I feel that’s really important for Luz, who wants to grow but still wants to have fun and indulge in her hyperfixations; So that’s another way Lilith can teach Luz. And it’s another way she’s become an actual role model for this kid to look up to, someone worth emulating; Because I feel Lilith always wanted the validation of knowing she was good enough for people to want to copy. To set a trend and example... For people to be impressed by her. And she’s finally gotten that.

#the owl house #lilith clawthorne #philip wittebane #emperor belos #meta #cult tw

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

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Hi. I’m curious. What did you mean by “women who read fiction might get Bad Ideas!!!” has just reached its latest and stupidest form via tumblr purity culture.? I haven’t seen any of this but I’m new to tumblr.

Oh man. You really want to get me into trouble on, like, my first day back, don’t you?

Pretty much all of this has been explained elsewhere by people much smarter than me, so this isn’t necessarily going to say anything new, but I’ll do my best to synthesize and summarize it. As ever, it comes with the caveat that it is my personal interpretation, and is not intended as the be-all, end-all. You’ll definitely run across it if you spend any time on Tumblr (or social media in general, including Twitter, and any other fandom-related spaces). This will get long.

In short: in the nineteenth century, when Gothic/romantic literature became popular and women were increasingly able to read these kinds of novels for fun, there was an attendant moral panic over whether they, with their weak female brains, would be able to distinguish fiction from reality, and that they might start making immoral or inappropriate choices in their real life as a result. Obviously, there was a huge sexist and misogynistic component to this, and it would be nice to write it off entirely as just hysterical Victorian pearl-clutching, but that feeds into the “lol people in the past were all much stupider than we are today” kind of historical fallacy that I often and vigorously shut down. (Honestly, I’m not sure how anyone can ever write the “omg medieval people believed such weird things about medicine!” nonsense again after what we’ve gone through with COVID, but that is a whole other rant.) The thinking ran that women shouldn’t read novels for fear of corrupting their impressionable brains, or if they had to read novels at all, they should only be the Right Ones: i.e., those that came with a side of heavy-handed and explicit moralizing so that they wouldn’t be tempted to transgress. Of course, books trying to hammer their readers over the head with their Moral Point aren’t often much fun to read, and that’s not the point of fiction anyway. Or at least, it shouldn’t be.

Fast-forward to today, and the entire generation of young, otherwise well-meaning people who have come to believe that being a moral person involves only consuming the “right” kind of fictional content, and being outrageously mean to strangers on the internet who do not agree with that choice. There are a lot of factors contributing to this. First, the advent of social media and being subject to the judgment of people across the world at all times has made it imperative that you demonstrate the “right” opinions to fit in with your peer-group, and on fandom websites, that often falls into a twisted, hyper-critical, so-called “progressivism” that diligently knows all the social justice buzzwords, but has trouble applying them in nuance, context, and complicated real life. To some extent, this obviously is not a bad thing. People need to be critical of the media they engage with, to know what narratives the creator(s) are promoting, the tropes they are using, the conclusions that they are supporting, and to be able to recognize and push back against genuinely harmful content when it is produced – and this distinction is critical – by professional mainstream creators. Amateur, individual fan content is another kettle of fish. There is a difference between critiquing a professional creator (though social media has also made it incredibly easy to atrociously abuse them) and attacking your fellow fan and peer, who is on the exact same footing as you as a consumer of that content.

Obviously, again, this doesn’t mean that you can’t call out people who are engaging in actually toxic or abusive behavior, fans or otherwise. But certain segments of Tumblr culture have drained both those words (along with “gaslighting”) of almost all critical meaning, until they’re applied indiscriminately to “any fictional content that I don’t like, don’t agree with, or which doesn’t seem to model healthy behavior in real life” and “anyone who likes or engages with this content.” Somewhere along the line, a reactionary mindset has been formed in which the only fictional narratives or relationships are those which would be “acceptable” in real life, to which I say…. what? If I only wanted real life, I would watch the news and only read non-fiction. Once again, the underlying fear, even if it’s framed in different terms, is that the people (often women) enjoying this content can’t be trusted to tell the difference between fiction and reality, and if they like “problematic” fictional content, they will proceed to seek it out in their real life and personal relationships. And this is just… not true.

As I said above, critical media studies and thoughtful consumption of entertainment are both great things! There have been some great metas written on, say, the Marvel Cinematic Universe and how it is increasingly relying on villains who have outwardly admirable motives (see: the Flag Smashers in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier) who are then stigmatized by their anti-social, violent behavior and attacks on innocent people, which is bad even as the heroes also rely on violence to achieve their ends. This is a clever way to acknowledge social anxieties – to say that people who identify with the Flag Smashers are right, to an extent, but then the instant they cross the line into violence, they’re upsetting the status quo and need to be put down by the heroes. I watched TFATWS and obviously enjoyed it. I have gone on a Marvel re-watching binge recently as well. I like the MCU! I like the characters and the madcap sci-fi adventures! But I can also recognize it as a flawed piece of media that I don’t have to accept whole-cloth, and to be able to criticize some of the ancillary messages that come with it. It doesn’t have to be black and white.

When it comes to shipping, moreover, the toxic culture of “my ship is better than your ship because it’s Better in Real Life” ™ is both well-known and in my opinion, exhausting and pointless. As also noted, the whole point of fiction is that it allows us to create and experience realities that we don’t always want in real life. I certainly enjoy plenty of things in fiction that I would definitely not want in reality: apocalyptic space operas, violent adventures, and yes, garbage men. A large number of my ships over the years have been labeled “unhealthy” for one reason or another, presumably because they don’t adhere to the stereotype of the coffee-shop AU where there’s no tension and nobody ever makes mistakes or is allowed to have serious flaws. And I’m not even bagging on coffee-shop AUs! Some people want to remove characters from a violent situation and give them that fluff and release from the nonstop trauma that TV writers merrily inflict on them without ever thinking about the consequences. Fanfiction often focuses on the psychology and healing of characters who have been through too much, and since that’s something we can all relate to right now, it’s a very powerful exercise. As a transformative and interpretive tool, fanfic is pretty awesome.

The problem, again, comes when people think that fic/fandom can only be used in this way, and that going the other direction, and exploring darker or complicated or messy dynamics and relationships, is morally bad. As has been said before: shipping is not activism. You don’t get brownie points for only having “healthy” ships (and just my personal opinion as a queer person, these often tend to be heterosexual white ships engaging in notably heteronormative behavior) and only supporting behavior in fiction that you think is acceptable in real life. As we’ve said, there is a systematic problem in identifying what that is. Ironically, for people worried about Women Getting Ideas by confusing fiction and reality, they’re doing the same thing, and treating fiction like reality. Fiction is fiction. Nobody actually dies. Nobody actually gets hurt. These people are not real. We need to normalize the idea of characters as figments of a creator’s imagination, not actual people with their own agency. They exist as they are written, and by the choice of people whose motives can be scrutinized and questioned, but they themselves are not real. Nor do characters reflect the author’s personal views. Period.

This feeds into the fact that the internet, and fandom culture, is not intended as a “safe space” in the sense that no questionable or triggering content can ever be posted. Archive of Our Own, with its reams of scrupulous tagging and requests for you to explicitly click and confirm that you are of age to see M or E-rated content, is a constant target of the purity cultists for hosting fictional material that they see as “immoral.” But it repeatedly, unmistakably, directly asks you for your consent to see this material, and if you then act unfairly victimized, well… that’s on you. You agreed to look at this, and there are very few cases where you didn’t know what it entailed. Fandom involves adults creating contents for adults, and while teenagers and younger people can and do participate, they need to understand this fact, rather than expecting everything to be a PG Disney movie.

When I do write my “dark” ships with garbage men, moreover, they always involve a lot of the man being an idiot, being bluntly called out for an idiot, and learning healthier patterns of behavior, which is one of the fundamental patterns of romance novels. But they also involve an element of the woman realizing that societal standards are, in fact, bullshit, and she can go feral every so often, as a treat. But even if I wrote them another way, that would still be okay! There are plenty of ships and dynamics that I don’t care for and don’t express in my fic and fandom writing, but that doesn’t mean I seek out the people who do like them and reprimand them for it. I know plenty of people who use fiction, including dark fiction, in a cathartic way to process real-life trauma, and that’s exactly the role – one of them, at least – that fiction needs to be able to fulfill. It would be terribly boring and limited if we were only ever allowed to write about Real Life and nothing else. It needs to be complicated, dark, escapist, unreal, twisted, and whatever else. This means absolutely zilch about what the consumers of this fiction believe, act, or do in their real lives.

Once more, I do note the misogyny underlying this. Nobody, after all, seems to care what kind of books or fictional narratives men read, and there’s no reflection on whether this is teaching them unhealthy patterns of behavior, or whether it predicts how they’ll act in real life. (There was some of that with the “do video games cause mass shootings?”, but it was a straw man to distract from the actual issues of toxic masculinity and gun culture.) Certain kinds of fiction, especially historical fiction, romance novels, and fanfic, are intensely gendered and viewed as being “women’s fiction” and therefore hyper-criticized, while nobody’s asking if all the macho-man potboiler military-intrigue tough-guy stereotypical “men’s fiction” is teaching them bad things. So the panic about whether your average woman on the internet is reading dark fanfic with an Unhealthy Ship (zomgz) is, in my opinion, misguided at best, and actively destructive at worst.

#long post #anonymous #ask

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vannybarber · 3 years

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The Prenup: Final Chapter

Summary: After four years of being together and finally being engaged, Chris wants you to sign a prenup.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, chris getting his ass handed to him, a lot of pain.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

You lied.

You didn't come back the day after. Or the next day. In fact, you stayed at the hotel for almost a week. You didn't stay in the same clothes of course. You went out to buy everything you needed. Clothes, hygiene products, prenatal vitamins. You were the saddest and most ridiculous thing to walk this earth.

Lisa and Scott eventually came over with your permission of course. You couldn't say no to them. You weren't upset with them.

"How've you been, sweetie?" They both look for your answer, trying to read your face.

"To tell you the truth, I actually feel like an asshole. I honestly realize how immature I was. Chris definitely was, but I was stooping to that level myself. But I won't admit to him just yet. I want him to recognize how immature he was too."

It was crazy to even hear it from your own mouth. But you had time to think it over. You recognized how stupid you looked living in a hotel because you couldn't put your immaturity aside.

"Well this might be a shock to you, but I had a talk with him also and it might've did something." You make eye contact with her and your eyebrows jump. Indeed, you were surprised. She continues.

"I know you guys will be able to resolve this. But you need to try. You've have been together too long to let this get in between you two. I think he finally understands." She sets her hand on yours, which was placed in your lap.

He finally understood? You had to see this for yourself. You hoped to everything that she was right. You actually wanted to fix this and he needed to be on board and feel the same way.

It occurred to you after some time that his points were actually valid. It was just the way he came across is all. You were in your own feelings and took it really personal, which was understandable, but you got stubborn. Even though he got a prenup for his own reasons, you felt as if he didn't love you as much as you love him.

This could all be fixed, but he needed to set some boundaries with Megan. He had no choice. Wait till she finds out about the baby. Evidently none of the other Evans' knew about the baby because it was never brought up. You secretly thank Chris for keeping that between you guys, even though he was most likely still upset that you weren't gonna tell him about the baby right away.

You both are grown ass adults and you're having a child together. This bullshit needed to end.

"Oh my gosh this is great !! All my shit talking did some good." Lisa clears her throat at him. "Along with Ma's great advice of course." You just laugh. You loved your family.

"I think I'm ready to see him. Scratch that. I am ready to see him. I want my fianceé back." You smile and grasp your hands together. You don't think you've ever seen them smile so hard.

"Oh yeah we know you're pregnant." You stop smiling and stare at Scott like you've been caught in the cookie jar. "You know Chris can't keep his big mouth shut." Well that's a Gemini for you.

"Now its really important that you solve this. You're bringing another life into the world!" Lisa exclaims. "Plus I'm gonna have another grandbaby!!"

You giggle and shake your head. "Well we need to head over there right now then!"

Little did you know Chris was on the exact same page as you. Down to every line and every word.

He has always been indecisive and this situation really forced him to take some responsibility and rethink his behavior. You had all the reason to feel the way you did, his intentions clearly being missed by you. Whatever they even were.

He also decided that he was going to set Megan straight about his personal life and respecting you. You were his future wife. And now that you're bringing a baby into the world, she definitely needed to be put in check. He can't even believe how he allowed her to disrespect you like this.

Now he only hoped that you'd want to sort this out and forgive him. He needed you no matter what he said. He did make up excuses because your relationship was too good to be true. He's never had a connection like this before. He never allowed it, but clearly it was for a reason because it give you a chance to come in his life and completely change it for the better.

When he had gotten home from visiting you, his feelings were all over the place. Upset that you didn't come back with him and guilty for making you feel the way you did. He just felt like he was doing the right thing because Megan told him to. Deep down inside, he really didn't even want to get the stupid prenup anyway.

"So where's Y/N? Is she okay?" Shanna asked for everyone. They all expected you to come back too. They didn't know you were this stubborn.

"She's alright. She said she wasn't ready to come back just yet. Which I completely understand. But I feel like a failed once again." He slumps on the couch and lies back. "I don't deserve her at all."

"Now Chris, you know what you have. And what you have is good. Better than anything you had before. You two were made for each other. You're a hard head and I know you're not giving up this easily" Lisa says to him, taking a seat to his right.

"You know she's pregnant." He really shouldn't have said that and he knows it, but he can't keep a secret to save his own life. Everyone in the room gasps. "I found the tests in the bathroom. If I didn't go in there and discover them myself, she wasn't planning on telling me yet."

"Well she probably wanted to fix this before adding more on top of it." Scott adds. And he was absolutely correct.

"Well I'm happy for you! But I you still have this going on." Lisa's voice goes from excited to monotone. She's super happy, but she wished this could have been evented at a much better time.

"Well this could've made things better...or worse." Chris throws his NASA cap on the couch angrily.

Carly speaks up.

"You and Scott should go visit her. I doubt she'll turn it down."

"Yeah Ma. We should see where her heads at. Maybe her mind will change with our advice" Scott agrees. He loves you as a sister. Anything threatening that would have to be put to death immediately.

"Guys, I don't know about that. She seemed pretty definite on how she felt." Chris didn't want to make it worse than what it was, but he always found a way to do that anyway.

"Chris come on" Scott drags out. "We have to try."

"Y/N is a smart girl. She knows what she needs to do and it will come to her. I know it'll work out. And when it does, you'll realize your love is inevitable." Lisa smiles knowing she is absolutely right.

Now she just waits for it all to fall in place.

You were currently outside in the driveway of your house. You drove back there in your car with Lisa and Scott behind you. When you arrived, you hopped in her car to discuss how this was going to go.

Looking at the property, you admit missed your place, but you allowed your infantilism to get in the way.

"Okay he's in there, but he doesn't know you're coming back." Scott speaks lowly from the back seat.

"Wait you didn't tell him?" You snap around mystified. Why did they not tell him?

"Because we wanted it to be a surprise. Well I wanted it to be a surprise." He corrects himself when Lisa throws him a look through the rear view mirror.

"Well um okay. Then this just has to play out itself. Hopefully he's happy to see me..?" You were unsure yourself. The little intimate moment you had before he left couldn't dictate how he'd feel now.

"I'm positive he is, but you won't know unless you get up in there. Go ahead! We'll get your stuff," Lisa encourages. You think she's more excited than anyone. You thank her with a kiss on the cheek and high five Scott then head out of the car. You walk up the driveway to the front door. You didn't get the key out your bag so you rang the doorbell.

A few moments, the door is jerked open. You automatically know he didn't even look through the peephole before he opened the door. He needs to stop doing that.

You appear in his vision and he pauses.

"Y/N? Baby?" Incredulity is all in his voice.

"Yes, that is my name." You giggle. "Can I come in?"

"Uh of course! You live here, ya know." He steps back so you can walk inside. Walking through the threshold, you look around the house as if it was foreign to you. For whatever reason, you expected some dramatic changes. One thing that didn't change is his shoes in the middle of the floor. His bad habit.

"Chris what did I say about your shoes in the walkway?" You scold him and move them to the corner with his others. You can't count how many times you've almost fell face first because of his shoes in the way and truthfully, you not watching where you're going.

"Sorry I forget a lot" he says sheepishly with a tiny smile on his face stopping behind you. This makes your corners turn up as well.

You stand facing him and him facing you. Neither of you say anything. You can't tell if it is because you don't know what to say or that you just really missed each other's faces. Before you do speak, Lisa and Scott are inside with your things.

"Oh guys just put that stuff on the couch. Thank you again!" You point to the sofa, absentmindedly moving closer to Chris.

"We need to talk." Turning back to him, you nod. You remember why you're here in the first place. You needed to put an end to this.

"Right. Patio?" You always go out there to have conversations or just to chill with each other. He nods his head and turns to his family.

"We're gonna go outside and talk for a bit. Okay?"

"Oh yes take all the time you need," Lisa exclaims, shooing you both off. Scott is grinning himself. You just smile and walk to the back door onto the patio. Chris follows quickly behind.

Once you both get outside, you sit down. You wouldn't say it was awkward, but there was definitely some tension. You decide to break it.

"I'm really sorry, Chris."

"Baby I'm so sorry."

Guess he wanted to as well. You were about to talk, but he spoke up first.

"I want to apologize first. I was completely wrong here. I was being an asshole and I deserved everything you said to me. And everything Scott said to me as well." He rolls his eyes at that part. You could only imagine the dragging Scott was giving him. "I allowed Megan to disrespect you and that was a dick move. No one should allow their partner to be treated like that. You're were going to my wife and I stooped that low. I'm truly sorry." He searches in your eyes for something to let him know that you forgave him, knew that he was really sorry at least.

You look away about to let the flood come like Noah and the Arc. You've been waiting to hear that for a while and you knew he meant every word. But now it was your turn. Clearing your throat and wiping your eyes, you speak up.

"This isn't completely your fault, baby." You take his hands in yours. "I am also guilty as well. I acted so immature and didn't even truly try to resolve this because I wanted to victimize myself the whole time. Although you were acting like a huge dick, I still played a part. I am so sorry for not planning on telling you about the baby. That was unfair of me. I know that you love me and that I am important to you, so if you still want me to sign the prenup, I'll do it."

Hearing the words come from your mouth surprised you both. He didn't think you'd ever give in and you sure as hell were making sure you wouldn't. But here you are agreeing to it because you love him that much and wanted to make him happy. Your relationship would work so it would never come to be used. You had strong faith in that.

"That's another thing." He shakes his head and you're now confused. "I don't want you to sign a prenup. We're not doing that. I already plan on talking to Megan about it. And I'm going to address her on knowing her place working for me. Since you know that I love you, so fucking much, I don't need to worry about money. Nor a divorce. Like Ma said, we were made for each other and I'll be damned if I let you get away from me."

"So no prenup?" You needed to hear it again.

"No prenup, love." He grins at you, squeezing your hands. You pull from his grip and jump up busting out random dance moves. His mouth is ajar.

"No prenup! Ain't signing no prenup! Lalalalalaaaaa! No prenup!" After your little dance number, you sit back down with no shame. You needed that.

"I'm glad that you finally came to your senses, Christopher. Your mother taught you well" you say in a pompous manner. He just can't help but laugh. You truly were something else.

"We have a little one coming soon and we have to be out best selves for them. Pinky promise each other that we never ever argue and not fix it in a matter of 25 minutes ever again?" He holds out his pinky finger waiting for yours.

"I promise." You wrap yours around his and grin. "So we're good?"

"Well there is one more thing." He stands up and reaches in his pocket. He pulls out your engagement ring and gets on one knee. Just when you had no tears left to cry.

"Y/N, baby, will you be my fianceé again?" You laugh breathlessly and nod your head.

"Yes, you meatball!" He slips the ring back on your finger and you jump in his arms. Almost knocking him over, he grabs your face and kisses you. You wasted zero time kissing him back because you needed it. It had been so long.

Finally pulling away and balancing your breaths like you just ran a 5k, you both make eye contact and burst out into laughter.

"Come on. Let's go tell them." He grabs your hands and you rush inside the house. Heading into the living room you see them both watching with anticipation.

"So?" Scott speaks and they both stand up.

"Guess who's getting married ?!"

HELP-😌 im so proud of myself. i decided to end this with a nice fluff. it was well deserved. i read you guy's comments and it influenced how i wrote it. some of you mentioned immaturity in y/n and that was really valid. and the point about the prenup making sense.

thank you so much for reading. i am honestly so grateful that you guys liked it. i didn't expect it to blow up like it did. im crying now so bye ✌🏽🤧❤

tags:

@mayafatimakhan @attitude-times @shawn-youth @traceyaudette @kyraroseficreblogs33 @radi0active-thoughts @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @ohbarracuda @katelyneannxo @jennamarieee623 @craycraycraic @ilikeurdad @captainson-of-coul @joanne-stan @ilovetheeagles @cristinagronk16 @kelbabyblue @onyourgoddamnleft @jessycatth @misz-adrii @geminievans1 @saltyflowermakertaco @a-moment-captured @harrysthiccthighss @dauntless2022 @allboutdatmarvel @ineedpineapple @illyrianprincess @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @marianas-studyblr @obliviatevamps @thevelvetseries @coffeebooksandfandom @shamelessfangirl-3 @quietmyfearswith @kissme-hs @lvgllre @arabescapr @careless-intuition @lady-x-red @donutloverxo @princess-evans-addict

#cevans #chris evans #avengers #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #andy barber smut #steve rogers smut #captain america #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut

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babyybitchhh · 3 years

Text

Shigaraki x Reader 18+

Title: Crybaby

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 12,290

Warnings: I'll be honest and say I'm not entirely sure how to tag some of this so proceed with caution. Infantilization, forced age regression, mental age regression, non consensual regression, ageplay, mentions of baby bottles and pacifiers, coercion, general noncon and dubcon, diddling, vaginal fingering, involuntary urination, wetting, mention of forced third party bathing, diapers, penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, creampie, excessive use of 'Tomu-nii', mention of sex slaves, a brief but explicitly violent death mention towards the start, overall very questionable decisions from both me and Shigaraki

A/N: I will not be taking any questions at this time, thank you.

( @tomurasprincess)

♥♥♥♥

There was a fine line between a gift and a burden.

A new video game, for example, is something people were generally happy to receive and there was no obligation to slave over it at all hours of the day, unless you wanted to. A puppy, on the other hand, came with a certain amount of responsibility that couldn’t be side lined until Tomura decided to deal with it. There was no save button, no coming back to it later. He had to be vigilant to some degree, mindful of the life that was now in his hands, and that wasn’t something he was accustomed to by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn’t stand it. Didn’t even really possess the vernacular needed to describe exactly how much it pissed him off that he was suddenly expected to take care of someone - something else.

It was bullshit.

Standing over your prone form sprawled out on the cluttered floor he thinks, not for the first time, about ending it right here and now. It would be easy, surely. One touch of his hand and you’d be gone. Disintegrated to mere dust and nothing more than a vague, unpleasant memory in the back of his mind. You deserved it by simple virtue of being such a damn inconvenience but, just as every other time, he hesitates.

Not because you don��t even realize the danger you’re in as you innocently kick your legs back and forth in the air, all your wide eyed, dopey attention locked on the tv screen. Tomura is not so soft as to consider a sneak attack you don’t even see coming an insult to his pride. He would’ve been showing you mercy, actually, because if he didn’t fear upsetting All for One so much he’d have preferred to wrap his hands around your scrawny little neck instead. Give you a good throttle or two. Squeeze until his knuckles were a stark white against your purpling blue skin. He could almost envision what you would look like, all bloated and full of blood from burst capillaries and reddened eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

His cock stirs in his pants and his hatred for you grows with it. He couldn’t stand you or what you represented, a sudden addition to his life that he never asked for but couldn’t get rid of, and the fact he was getting stiff from his morbid fantasies was certainly your fault too. Everything was your fault. Right down to the most minor of inconveniences, you were to blame - even if it happened before you were dropped into his lap with all the to-do of a posh, overly indulgent birthday present. It was you. You, you, you, you you you youyouyouyouyou -

“Tomu-nii?”

With a jolt, he snaps out of it. The haze lifts and his blown out eyes focus in on your tubby little face, now turned over your shoulder to glance back at him. Tomura isn’t sure when you realized he was looming over you like some horrible, sickly wraith and he knows even less how it is that you show no fear towards him. Were you really so stupid that you couldn’t sense his desire to not only kill you but make you suffer? So blind that you didn’t see the way his bony hands fisted at his sides with a purpose and not in idle reflex?

No. It wasn’t that you were as unintelligent as a brain dead sheep happily trotting off to slaughter. Rather, it’s because that was what All for One had designed you to be.

Tomura wouldn’t claim to understand how, exactly, his mentor had gotten these results but he knows enough to recognize the signs. You’d been stripped of everything in a way that far exceeded mere surface level nudity. All for One had gone even deeper than that, past flesh and bone and right into the heart of what made you you. The brain.

He had no doubt that a quirk had been used, the specifics of which he couldn’t even begin to fathom, but the tinkering and rewiring had done its job exceedingly well, in fact. While your body was that of a young adult woman, early to mid 20’s if he had to wager a guess, your mind was something like that of a toddlers. You could speak just fine but the enunciation was sloppy, your words childish and limited to small, easily communicable sentences. You picked up on things surprisingly fast, perhaps even a little too well if the way he’d heard you let out a soft, half hearted ‘fuck’ earlier was anything to go by. But you slipped up just as easily and he was getting real tired of making sure you went and sat on the toilet instead of pissing all over his (no doubt already smelly) carpet. Living in his own mess was one thing. Living in someone else’s was another matter entirely.

Nothing about this was in error, though. You were exactly what All for One intended for you to be - little more than an animal for him to look after but with arguably higher stakes involved - and he’d had enough. It’d only been a single day, a full 24 hours since you were dropped into his room, and he was already at the end of his patience.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like that stupid cartoon I put on for you?”

You actually had the audacity to pout at him, jutting your lower lip out and puffing your cheeks as if that was supposed to make him feel anything other than an even stronger urge to take you out of this world. “S’not that. Mm’ just bored. You’re no fun.”

Tomura very nearly lunges at you with outstretched hands, All for One be damned, but your next words stop him in his tracks.

“I thought maybe you were coming to play with me.”

Play with you? He would’ve laughed if only he could find even a sliver of real humor in this situation. This was a joke, if not because of the absurdity of it all then at least because he wanted to play with you alright. He wanted to play a game that started with you screaming in shrill terror and ended with a chilly body laid out on his bedroom floor. That sounded like more fun than a barrel of kittens.

He stills himself, though, and snobbishly peers at you down the length of his nose. “I don’t play games with brats. Sorry.”

That only makes you pout even more. “Meanie.”

“Watch your fucking cartoon,” Tomura grits out through gnashing, angry teeth, unreasonably irritated by your persistent refusal to cooperate. “Before I make you.”

He isn’t even really sure if that threat makes any sense at this point, so thrown off by your mere presence in what should’ve been his space that he can barely make heads or tails of his own thoughts anymore. But the dramatic way you squawk in displeasure and throw yourself out flat on the floor placates him somewhat. You were easy to rile up, and he would have been a boldfaced liar if he’d said he didn’t get a kick out of that. Tomura had never felt quite so cruel, so much like an adolescent bully looking to make his problems someone else’s as when he was working you up into a proper fit.

It was easily the most enjoyable aspect of this arrangement so far, and he watches with nothing short of smug satisfaction as you pound your hands on the floor in pent up frustration. It was laughably easy to picture what they’d look like, well groomed after a manicure and with a fresh coat of polish on the nails. You looked like you’d probably been the sort of woman who would go with reds. Fierce and bold, as much a statement as your pretty face, which was currently scrunched up and pressed tight against the carpet in front of his tv. Those same hands were plain and unadorned now, squeezed into tight little fists that were about as harmless as they could get. Tomura probably would’ve considered a turtle more of a pressing threat than you right now.

“Crybaby.” He spits the word out like it’s poison. “Does that make you feel better? Huh? Throwing a tantrum just because you’re not getting your way?”

“Mm’ not a crybaby!” You scream into the carpet. The contrast between your plushy figure and your behavior is disturbing on some very real, intrinsic level and that only seems to add fuel to his fire.

“Hah! That’s funny. You certainly look like one, you know that? What would you even think of yourself if you were in your right mind, I wonder.”

“Mm’ not!” Your incessant screeching rises in pitch and Tomura is almost positive you aren’t even really hearing him anymore, but he decides he doesn’t care.

“Embarrassing. Maybe I should have Kurogiri bring me a bottle since you want to act like a baby so much. Or would you like a pacifier instead? Hmm? Would that make you feel better, princess?”

“Nooooo!”

Your feet start kicking the air again, violently rather than in placid distraction, and the motion draws Tomura’s gaze to the seat of your onesie. Pink and humiliatingly infantile for a grown woman to be wearing, he’d looked at it with nothing short of contempt up until now. But the (no doubt exhausting) flex of your legs bunches the loose cotton, making it gather around your upturned ass and in turn emphasizes the convenient button flap across the back. Now that he’s actually looking at it, he’s almost positive it was wide enough to expose your entire rear to the world with little more than a quick snap of his fingers. Maybe even wide enough to expose other things too …

Tomura jolts with all the force of a sudden electric shock when you cry out his name or, rather, the ridiculous moniker you’d given him. He’d like to know who’d planted that particular seed in your head - if it was All for One’s idea of a twisted joke or if Kurogiri had really thought being called niichan by a woman who may or may not actually be older than him would make Tomura feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It doesn’t exactly matter now, though, because the wet quality of your voice makes his cock spring up in his pants. He’s mildly horrified with himself, far more comfortable with his earlier fantasies of killing you, but there’s no helping it anymore. Not when you say his name like that. Not when the tears he’d initially thought were crocodilian at best were so thick and heavy in your throat that the syllables come out garbled and almost incomprehensible.

He’s not sure what he intends to do, but he shuffles closer.

You’ve started to tire out now and the kicking slows before stopping all together. He watches your ankles cross over one another in the air, as if you were trying to self soothe on some level by physically keeping yourself together, but it doesn’t seem to do much in the way of good. Your shoulders were still trembling with the lingering traces of your fit, and he can hear you mewling into the abrasive carpet like a wounded animal. It was clear that you were hurting because of him - and not just as a result of his teasing. After the complete and utter deconstruction of your mind, you were probably scared without even really knowing why. Confused, but too lost in the quirk induced stupor that had left you in this sorry state to seek out answers.

He hadn’t bothered to test this theory yet, but Tomura would have been willing to bet good money that All for One left you with very little inside that thick skull of yours. It just made sense, after all. For what good was a doll with memories of her past life? What would he have possibly gotten out of playing house with someone who fought him every step of the way, either out of embarrassment or repulsion towards him as a person?

No. You were a blank slate in the strictest sense. His to mold however he deemed fit and with no recollection of who you were, who you’d been or even who you’d wanted to be, he was free to do whatever he damn well pleased.

There was still raging contempt for you burning within his chest, certainly. You were an annoying, unnecessary burden on him and there was no getting around the fact that he still wanted you gone. But the spark igniting his gut is even stronger and, for better or worse, it momentarily overrides his better judgement.

So he sinks down onto his knees, directly behind you, and reaches out to tentatively palm the swell of your ass. Pinky held away, so as not to disintegrate you, which surprises him somewhat given how vivid his fantasies of killing you had been. He doesn’t get to linger on that for very long though, because you grow still at his touch and your pathetic sniveling quiets to a soft, almost hopeful sniffle. Tomura bites back a crude snort, just barely managing to catch himself before he backpedals and hisses another insult at you. He could probably take what he wanted with any given method, he didn’t have to be nice about it, but somehow the alternative just felt wrong. Physically you were an adult, but with the mental state of a child it felt a bit like taking advantage of an innocent and he wasn’t a complete monster.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, the word foreign on his tongue. “I shouldn’t have been so mean. Will you forgive me?”

You squirm and push your face further into the carpet. “Mhm.”

He doesn’t smile. But he does take that as an incentive to push forward, and he starts caressing your backside with slow, cautious circles. “Do you really want me to play with you that bad?”

“Mhm.”

Hesitating, Tomura considers his next words very carefully. “Fine. I’ll play with you. But I get to choose the game.”

You don’t immediately respond and he starts to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Overestimated his ability to be diplomatic and conscientious - which wouldn’t exactly have come as a surprise. But then you shift on the floor, tension draining from your body as you turn your head so you aren’t suffocating in the carpet anymore. “Okay.”

His brows lift in surprise only to then knit together. It was that easy? He’s not so sure he trusts it but, dropping his gaze back down to your ass, he gives the doughy soft flesh an experimental squeeze. Your only response is a soft, faltering sigh that seems to help you relax more. This, too, seems a little too good to be true but he keeps going anyway.

When a few minutes of kneading your defenseless backside does nothing to upset you, Tomura starts to get bolder. He slowly brings his opposite hand forward and latches onto the other cheek with four fingers, massaging both sides in tandem. He’d had the unfortunate luck of seeing your bare ass late the previous evening, after you’d emptied your bladder all over the blanket he’d tossed you to sleep on which had resulted in an aggressively administered bath for you and a frustrated headache for him. He hadn’t paid too much attention at the time, far too angry to be horny, but he knew enough to realize that you were unexpectedly voluptuous under that onesie.

The garment itself was so oversized it hid even the smallest hint of the womanly figure underneath. He probably would’ve forgotten all about it, pushed to the back of his mind in favor of more pressing matters (like getting rid of you) but now that he’s got his hands on your butt it’s all he can think about. The way your full tits jiggled when he’d non too gently manhandled you into the tub. The frustratingly cute lower belly pouch that bulged when you sat down, crying, on the porcelain surface. The way your thighs molded to whatever position he’d yanked them in so he could hose you off like a filthy stray. He’d actively avoided looking at what was between your legs, in fear of what he’d see as much as stubborn refusal, but looking back on it now he isn’t sure how he hadn’t given in to temptation.

Now, however, he was suddenly more interested than ever in finding out what your pussy looked like and, hooking his long index fingers into the flap, he starts to unlatch it one button at a time.

You make no move to stop him. Don’t even protest or question what he’s doing. It’s almost as if just having his attention on you is enough, and Tomura’s mouth pulls back in a sneer at the mere thought. You were so damn stupid for trusting him like this, completely oblivious or uncaring about what his intentions were. He could be as violent with you as he wanted. He could erase you from this existence with the briefest touch. But you just lay there, your shoulders slowly rising and falling with each even breath you draw, and he can’t decide if that feeling clawing at the back of his throat is hatred or guilt.

But there’s no real reason to stop now, so he carefully peels back the flap of fabric once he’s got it completely unfastened. Bare skin greets him, a perfectly exposed strip of swelling flesh that seems all the more enticing with pink cotton framing it so nicely. He pauses long enough to lick his dry, cracked lips. The weight of his stiff cock strains against the inside of his zipper, twitching eagerly when he reaches out to hesitantly touch your back side again.

The sensation of a real, living person under his fingertips makes his breath come a little faster. Still, you don’t move though and he picks up right where he left off, roughly groping your ass cheeks with barely contained excitement until he gets so vigorous that you whimper.

“Shh. I’ll try not to be so rough.” Tomura shushes you, throaty and barely more than a murmur.

You settle back into place, thankfully, and he takes that chance to spread your cheeks open. He gets a brief glimpse of the puckered hole hidden inside, white hot static racing straight to his groin, and he lets out a rumbling groan. His fingers squeeze into flesh again and he pulls, baring you entirely to his voracious eyes. The tight muscle twitches, winking at him, and his attention drops to the smallest satiny peak of your slit. He can just barely see it, mostly hidden behind the pooling fabric bunched under the swell of your ass, but it’s more than enough to make him feel dizzy.

“Shit,” he sounds winded even to his own ears. “You’ve got such a nice body.”

To his surprise, you actually perk up at that. “Really?”

Tomura almost snaps at you on impulse, so irritated by the sound of your voice that he nearly forgets what he’s trying to do. Quelling himself, though, he tugs at the bottom half of your onesie until he can see the plushy soft lips of your pussy. You look so inviting, so warm and real he can hardly even stand it.

“Really.” He croaks. “How old are you again?”

You seem to think about that. “Mm, I dunno’!”

He frowns. Contemplates that for a long beat. But the coarse hair curling around your slit seems answer enough, for him at least. You weren’t actually a child. You just sounded like one, acted like one, dressed like one. That wasn’t what was getting him so painfully hard though. It was the fact you were a woman, physically, and he’d never gotten to see one up close and personal like this before. Why hadn’t All for One just given him a proper sex slave instead of one that threw tantrums and cried at the drop of a dime? Was this really what his mentor had intended for him to do with you?

“Tomu-nii?”

Drawing a sharp breath, he brings his attention up to bark at you to be quiet but the words catch when he finds you looking at him over your shoulder. He can feel his cheeks starting to warm, suddenly embarrassed.

“What?”

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

He flounders for a moment. Then, awkwardly clearing his throat, he decides to fall back on his original excuse. “This is the game I mentioned earlier. You wanted to play, right?”

You nod your head, but you don’t look entirely certain about that. “I do but … aren’t games s’posed to be fun? This is boring!”

His mouth presses into a thin line. It hadn’t occurred to him that you might not be content to just idly sit by while he molested your slutty little body, but if it was fun you wanted then he could certainly give you that. “This was just the warm up. Roll over and I’ll show you how to play.”

The way your eyes light up almost makes him regret this decision. It’s too late though, you’re already twisting over on to your back with your elbows braced on the carpet so you can stare up at him. Stupid and expectant.

He clicks his tongue.

Reaching out to grab your wide set hips with only eight of his fingers, he inelegantly drags you closer so that you were nicely slotted between his knees. Your legs curl up as you regard him with nothing short of intense curiosity, lips parting in a silent ‘o’ that very nearly sends him over the edge. You were too pretty for your own good. Much too beautiful to be wearing a pink onesie and acting like a baby. This was such a waste, and he almost feels bad for what All for One did to you.

But he shrugs it off, forcefully, and his delicately poised hands descend on your zipper. Zrrrrrt, straight down the length of your body. It stops directly above your crotch and he reaches up to reverently push the cotton out to the sides and expose the rest of you.

Your tits were even better than he’d initially thought. They were full and heavy, dotted with the most perfect little buds for nipples. Soft and smooth. Tomura’s mouth waters in anticipation and he doesn’t realize how roughly he’s jerking your arms out of the sleeves until you wail dramatically that it hurts.

He’d like to tell you what really hurts is his cock, unbearably hard and trapped inside his pants, but he refrains. Instead, he huffs out an insincere apology and keeps on yanking. He can’t get you undressed fast enough, mesmerized by the way your breasts jiggle and bounce every time he pulls on you. There’s something inherently wrong about this, he knows. It’s so damn obvious you’re not right in the head, that you aren’t of sound enough mind to even understand what he’s doing to you, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you were so willing and pliant under his shaking hands.

Finally managing to wrest the blasted onesie off your kicking feet, Tomura tosses it off to the side and he eagerly sets his sights on your naked body. You should have looked seductive and coy, spread out in front of him with a devious smile curling artfully painted lips as you invite him to have his way with you. Instead, you fitfully squirm, neither seductive nor shy. It’s clear that you have no sense of shame, your artificially infantile brain completely void of the concept and even less aware of how inappropriate any of this was. You just keep looking at him, waiting for the explanation he’d promised to give you.

Oh. That’s right. The game he kept talking about. Perhaps he could still salvage this after all.

“The rules are simple,” he says slowly, scrambling to put together a decent excuse to keep going. “I’ll touch you for a little bit and if I can make you feel good then I win. After that, it’ll be your turn. If you make me feel good, you’ll win. Understand?”

Your expression pinches in confusion. “So we both win?”

“Only if we make each other feel good. What’s wrong? You don’t want to play with me anymore?”

Much to his relief, you quickly bob your head. “I do! Please play with me, Tomu-nii!”

The way his cock jolts at that makes his entire body ache. It’s much too late to turn back now, he was well past the point of salvation, and he haltingly drags his attention down to your chest. Your petite nipples had stiffened in the cool air but it’s as if you don’t even notice. Wasn’t that something a grown woman would be conscious of? He thinks so, or at least he’s pretty sure it is. Apparently it isn’t the sort of thing a dumb baby brain even registers, though, and he reaches out to curiously flick at one.

You gasp, eyes widening slightly. Misplaced hope sears his veins and he watches you intently, holding his breath, but you don’t seem to understand what it is you’re feeling. Your brows furrow as you glance down at yourself and bring a hand up to cover your nipple.

“Oww …”

That certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Or at least it wasn’t the sort of reaction Pornhub had taught him to expect, but it was still something.

“Baby.” He grumbles, reaching for the opposite tit.

“Mm’not!”

“Are too. Didn’t that feel good?”

“No!”

“Then you’re winning, aren’t you?”

Confusion marches across your face for a moment before understanding dawns. You look quite pleased now as you track the movement of his hand as he carefully pinches your puckered nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently rolling it between the pads. He doesn’t get an immediate reaction out of you but the longer he does it the more your lips start to purse. It’s as if you were holding back, determined not to show him that you might be enjoying it and risk losing the game, but it’s enough to embolden him.

His ministrations pick up and he gives your delicate little teat a mild twist. There’s no malice or cruelty behind the action. He just wants to see what you’ll do. And you don’t disappoint, the way you jump and your mouth flies open as if to squawk making his stomach clench with something perverse. You catch yourself at the last second though, teeth clacking together as your gaze flits up at him to see if he’s looking.

He is, of course, and you forcibly swallow the sound you’d almost let out. Tomura is a bit disappointed, sure. He’d wanted to hear how pretty you’d moan for him but there were still plenty of other chances for him to coerce at least one out of you.

Hunching over your prone body, he brings his other hand up to latch onto the opposite nipple, the one he’d previously flicked. You wince at the contact but make no move to stop him, biting down on your lower lip to keep quiet as you watch him play with your fat tits in petulant silence. It was ass backwards in so many ways. He’d thought, despite everything, his first time with a girl would be somewhat normal. Maybe not picture perfect or all that good when everything was said and done, but at least relatively mundane. This was the farthest thing from that though. He couldn’t conceive of a more wildly abnormal scenario even if he’d tried, nor did he recall ever seeing any porn with this hyper specific set up. But there was still some sick, twisted part of him that was deriving pleasure from this decidedly unorthodox encounter with the opposite sex, and that feeling only grows exponentially the more he keeps going.

Kneading, pinching, squeezing, tugging. He doesn’t let up until your nipples are flushed dark and straining hard, the glistening hint of tears at the corners of your eyes telling him beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was getting somewhere. The urge to call you a crybaby swells in his chest again but he doesn’t want to risk another tantrum. He wasn’t so sure his cock could handle it, particularly not when he’d positioned himself over you in such a way that one solid kick would put him out of commission for the foreseeable future. No, this was a delicate situation that required the utmost care on his part and, gathering his nerves, he swoops down to cover one of the stiff buds with his mouth.

The heated gasp that bursts out of you in a great woosh has him groaning into the meaty swell of your tit. You shudder underneath him, involuntarily twitching as he traces your areola with the tip of his tongue and laves it in warm, wet attention. He can tell that you’re not sure what to do so he waits with bated breath, reveling in the fleshy nub pinched between his lips. There was no reason for him not to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment he could get out of this while he could, after all - but then your hands find his hair, threading into wavy locks, and he throbs for you.

“Tomu-nii …”

He practically sinks into you, damn near suffocating himself in the plushy swell of your breast. His mouth opens wide and sucks more of you past his lips, suckling enthusiastically just like the infant you were programmed to be. This particular role reversal doesn’t even seem to register in your mind though and he seethes when you tug at his hair, trying to pull him off.

“St-aaahp …. I don’t like it!”

Tomura comes up off you with a wet gasp. “Bullshit.” He practically growls, narrowing his eyes at your dopey, flustered expression.

“It’s true! I don’t!”

“Oh? Should we check then?”

Your face scrunches and you draw a breath to question him, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Going back up on his knees, he plants one hand against the meat of your inner thigh and shoves it wide. His other darts between your legs before you can react, spindly digits finding your bare cunt and prodding at your folds with rough fingertips. You jolt at the contact but it’s too late. He barely has to touch you to feel the slick oozing out of you and he lets loose a harsh bark of laughter.

“My ass. You’re fucking soaked. You shouldn’t lie, you know.”

“I didn’t!” You gasp, clearly offended by the insinuation. “You’re just a fucking meanie!”

That gives him pause.

Glancing up at your face, Tomura regards you carefully as he tries to figure out his next move. On one hand it was his own fault for saying that word around you so much and it’s not like it was any of his business what you did or didn’t say, but on the other … there was something uncomfortable about hearing that come out of your mouth with such a childish inflection. It lacked any and all bite, not even a hint of impotent aggression to be found. You were just parroting him, that’s all, but for whatever reason he didn’t really appreciate it.

“Don’t say that.” He huffs, turning his attention back to your pussy.

Tomura had wanted to leave it at that, but of course you have to fight him every step of the way.

“Why not?” You ask rather flippantly.

“Because i said so. If you want to get smart, be my guest. I know how to handle bratty little girls like you.”

He’s a bit surprised when that actually shuts you up. Apparently, he was starting to get the hang of this but he still has to sneak a quick peek at you just to make sure. The fact you actually look contemplative, as if you were turning that over in your empty head, almost makes him laugh.

“Do you still want to play?” God, he sorely hoped you did.

You hesitate though, unwilling to give your acquiescence just like that. “When is it my turn?” You ask warily.

“Soon. I’ve got one more chance to make you feel good and then you can try.”

“Mmm … okay. But I’m not gonna’ lose!”

He’s almost certain you would have already lost if you weren’t such a petulant little thing, but he keeps that to himself. Instead, he once again turns his attention to the spot between your legs. Your puffy slit was noticeably wet, the faint sheen of fluid glistening slightly in the overhead light, and he takes a moment to gently part the curls there. Just as he’d thought. Damp to the touch and only getting wetter. He really was going to have to talk to you about lying especially since, in this particular context, you were cheating. This was a far cry from his video games but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

Swallowing his reprimand for the time being, though, Tomura carefully presses two fingers into the doughy softness of your labia and spreads them apart. He can see now that you were practically drenched in slick arousal, thin threads of discharge stretching across your petal soft folds before snapping. He gulps down his nerves. You really did have the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen and the fact it was all his for the taking very nearly had him creaming in his pants right then and there. It was almost obscene how bad he wanted to fuck your tampered brains out but he didn’t want to scare you into noncompliance. He wasn’t going to fight for this if he didn’t have to.

Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings his other hand close and prods at where he thinks your clit should be. He’d certainly seen them in enough triple X videos to have some idea of where to look, but when all you do is let out a soft sigh he knows he’s mistaken.

His teeth gnash in high strung irritation as he walks his finger lower and then higher, feeling a bit like a blind fool searching for buried treasure. There were so many fleshy ridges and folds that he couldn’t pinpoint the right spot from memory alone, so he has to take his time feeling around instead. He thinks he’s found it for a split second when you shift underneath him, but then he realizes you were simply getting fussy - no doubt bored with all his incessant pawing - and that only angers him further. It shouldn’t have been this damn hard to find!

Impatient now, Tomura roughly swipes his finger up the length of your slit and surprise washes over him when you jolt as if he’d electrocuted you. Your head comes up off the rug and you stare at him, wide eyed, but it was much too late. He’d finally gotten the reaction out of you that he’d been hoping for, and he leans into it with nothing short of devilish delight.

Knowing precisely where to look helps a great deal and it immediately occurs to him that the reason he’d struggled so much is because your clit was still hidden behind its protective hood. But he’s got the advantage now, and he ever so carefully pinches at satiny soft skin until he can ease it back and expose the sensitive little bud nestled inside. You whimper slightly as he does it, squirming awkwardly on your back as if you could instinctively sense that you might be in a bit of trouble now. It was kind of cute, if he was being totally honest.

“I don’t think I like this game …”

“You will. Trust me.”

Clearly not believing him, you start to open your mouth to complain but he stops you cold with a quick flick of his finger. Your engorged clit jostles against the indelicate contact and you blurt out such a startled sound that he actually glances up to make sure you’re okay. Unsurprisingly, you look a little more flustered now and the panic edging your expression is almost enough to make him reconsider this.

Almost, but not quite.

“What’s the matter?” He goads, dropping his gaze back down to your pussy again. “I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I … I don’t …”

“Really? I’m not sure I believe that.”

He does it again, gentler this time. Just a brief tap against the meaty little nub, but it’s enough to make you twitch and try to close your legs from him. Tomura won’t let you back out so easily though and he shifts even closer so he can wedge himself between your thighs to keep them spread. You issue a frustrated, huffy sound that he could only describe as babyish as you try to push up on your elbows, no doubt intending to scuttle away from him. He had to give you credit for being so hard headed even in this infantile state but he was far too invested to quit now.

Letting up his hold on your labia, Tomura directs his fingers lower and wedges three of them into your slit. You freeze, momentarily stunned, and he takes that split second opportunity to feel around for your entrance. It’s not hard to find. Much easier than your clit, at any rate, and he wastes no time wriggling a long digit up inside your body. The penetration is smooth, your guts such a slippery mess that it almost startles him.

You really were a liar.

He suddenly realizes he’s panting. At the same time, he realizes that you don’t appear to be breathing at all. Your expression is about as dumbfounded as it could be, and he dully watches the way you sway in your half upright position. Shellshocked would probably be an appropriate descriptor, and he wets his lips in anticipation.

“Well? Do you like it?”

Your legs flex around his arms and you shake your head. “Nuh … no …”

“If you don’t stop lying to me,” he grumbles. “I’m going to get mad.”

You stiffen, clearly drawing yourself up to challenge that statement just like he’d known you would. It was embarrassing how predictable you could be.

He’s had just about enough of this back and forth though, and he roughly curls his finger upward in search of the spot that would finally shut you up for good. But his efforts only make you more fussy and his patience quickly unravels when you try to twist away from him, wailing in displeasure. He hated that sound and, if you weren’t careful, he’d go right back to hating you too

Grunting, Tomura abandons your clit in favor of latching his hand onto the swell of your thigh and he digs his blunt nails in to keep you still. You actually have the audacity to kick out at him but he puts a stop to that quickly enough by shoving a second finger into your sticky cunt. Just like the first time, it makes you hesitate and he watches your warbling mouth drop open in what he thinks might be pleasure. It’s frustratingly hard to tell with you but, having no other choice, he decides to take it at face value.

Your pussy clicks loudly when he starts pumping into you straight down to the knuckle, the wet squelch almost deafening in his ears. It’s unreasonably hot though, his mind running a mile a minute as he tries to commit every little detail to memory. The way your face screws up with a stuttering gasp, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and try to brace against the pressure of his digits driving into you again and again. The way you moan, even when you try not to, is particularly enticing, especially since it’s just as pretty as he’d hoped it would be. The way your legs shake and you threaten to double over, the way he can see you clutching the carpet in a death grip, the way you just seem to get even wetter for him. There was too much to take in all at once but it was also far too erotic to look away from. He really was going to cream his pants at this rate.

Somehow, your honest reaction appears to make up for all the trouble you’d given him up until now and Tomura can feel the wet spot bleeding through his boxer briefs start to grow. He was positive he’d never been harder in all his life. Animalistic and practically slobbering like a rabid dog, he hunches further over your quaking body and pistons into your cunt so vigorously his arm starts to ache. You were wailing for him to stop, crying out for Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, but he doesn’t even slow down. He can’t.

Your cunt just keeps sucking him in deeper on every plunge, gummy walls pulsating around his no doubt pruning fingers so enthusiastically that he’s sure you’re going to cum. He can practically taste it. Tomura wasn't going to stop until you did and, realizing he doesn’t have to hold onto you any longer, he reaches out to roughly shove you down on your back again.

“Are you going to cream for me, princess? Huh?” He grits out through savagely bared teeth. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

“No! Please, Tomu-nii … it hurts!”

Even in the heat of the moment he can’t stop himself from clicking his tongue in irritation. “No it doesn’t, you big baby. You love this. I know you do. I can see it written all over your stupid, pretty face. Go on. Tell me exactly how good you feel. Do it!”

Wailing, you peer up at him through heavy lashes with a look so imploring it very nearly gives him pause. “I - I can’t! I’m … Tomu-nii, I’m gonna’ … I’m gonna’ pee!”

“No you aren’t. That just means your clo - -“

Tomura cuts himself off when you do exactly that. He’s almost too stunned to react and all he can do is watch as the steady stream of urine bursts out of you before dribbling down his wrist to soak into the carpet underneath. It’s only now, when you’re pissing all over yourself as well as him, that he finally has the decency to slow his pumping to a staggered halt. For a fleeting moment he actually considers the notion of keeping at it. There wasn’t much else you could do to ruin this for him, after all, but one look at your expression immediately quashes that idea.

He’d be lucky if all he could manage was to stop you from dissolving into ugly, heaving sobs, let alone worry about getting himself off. Dammit. You really were nothing but a pain in his ass.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He deadpans, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your cunt now that he was thoroughly coated in warm, smelly piss. “To be honest I was kind of tired of that rug anyway. And these clothes, too.”

You hiccup so sadly that what little bit of anger had sparked inside him immediately dies out. He couldn’t even be mad at you for this no matter how much he may have wanted to blame you for everything. You’d tried to warn him.

“T- Tomu-nii … mm’sorry …”

Tomura sighs through his nose, hard enough to make the split end tips of his hair shift. “Don't be. That was my fault. Just - let me find something to clean us up with.”

“Do I have to take another bath?” You ask so meekly he almost misses it.

Pausing halfway through the motion of rising to his feet, he glances down at you again. It occurs to him quickly enough that it wasn’t the accident you were so upset about but, rather, the looming possibility of another aggressively meted out trip to the bathroom. Interesting. He’d almost think he was mistaken, it had only happened once, after all, but the way your lower lip wobbles tells him everything he needs to know. Apparently you were more scared of him than you’d let on.

“No, not right now. I think I can get you clean enough with a wet rag or something. You’ll have to take one later but,” Tomura scoffs, hating that he was actually trying to be nice after you’d peed all over him. “I’ll try not to be so rough next time. You just made me mad last night, that’s all.”

You nod slowly, looking like you don’t quite believe that, but still too naively trusting to press the matter. “Okay.”

Nodding once, Tomura climbs to his feet. The inner seam of his pants from the knee down is absolutely soaked and he makes it only three steps before deciding he didn’t like them all that much to begin with. Dropping his hand to the rough denim, he brushes all five fingers across the thigh and they dissolve into nothing without a second thought to the matter. He can faintly hear you ooohing behind him but there were much more important things to worry about than how easily impressed you were.

His half flagged cock throbs hopefully inside his boxer briefs and he reaches down to delicately adjust himself. God, he’d be aching for the next week thanks to your uncontrollable bladder.

An idea pops into his head with that thought. You weren’t the only thing he’d been saddled with yesterday, and he turns to regard the thick gym bag he’d previously thrown against the far wall in anger. It’s where he’d gotten your pink onesie after you’d similarly soiled the first pair of clothes you’d been wearing. He hadn’t bothered to look through all of its contents just yet, but he felt relatively confident he’d find what he wanted in there.

Circling back around, Tomura squats in front of the bag and yanks it open. He can feel your eyes watching him from your spot on the floor but he pays it no mind. Digging inside, he pulls out a few more articles of clothing, far too cutesy for his tastes, and then a book on child care that he knows for certain was put there in jest. Over his shoulder it gets chucked, and he digs deeper. Down at the very bottom he finds exactly what he’d been looking for.

But in addition to the baby wipes there are two other items that catch his attention. He outright balks at the very notion - however, realistically speaking, it could very well be the answer to his problems. At least the most pressing one, anyway.

The idea that All for One knew he’d likely run into this issue but still decided to dump you on him anyway bothers Tomura a great deal and he frowns even as he looks over the packaging. Diapers and pull ups. What was the difference? He’s not so sure there is one, and he feels almost certain that they serve the same purpose. But further inspection proves him wrong. One was for a total lack of control and the other was for the potty training stage, so not as thick or absorbent. That’s what the packing said but, at any rate, they definitely weren't the plain adult brands he was looking at here.

These were bright and colorful, and he can’t help but cringe at the thought of putting you in either of them. But he was still left with a very real concern that he simply couldn’t overlook. The fact he even had to make this decision at all was ridiculous but he couldn’t very well have you pissing on every available surface in his room. And given your track record of absolutely drenching whatever you happened to be sitting on at the time …

Hesitantly, Tomura takes out the diapers and shuffles towards his unkempt bed. The print on the back wasn't particularly clear about what to do with them. He’d probably have to look up a tutorial later, when he wasn’t feeling quite so downtrodden and his balls weren’t aching, though that would certainly put him on a few watch lists. Not that it really mattered.

He sighs and tosses the package on top of his sheets before tearing into the baby wipes. Taking his time, he methodically scrubs his wrist and his legs clean while he contemplates his next move. It wasn’t going to be pretty. It certainly wasn’t going to be sexy. It was still probably the lesser of two evils, though. Far be it that he wanted to go this route but did he really even have any other choice at this point?

“Tomu-nii …”

Your soft whining draws him back to reality and, abruptly realizing you’ve been sitting in your own piss this entire time, he turns to look back at you. For a split second, he seriously considers just killing you right then and there. It would save him a lot of trouble and you wouldn’t even realize what was coming. You were so stupid you’d probably think he was going in for a hug or something asinine like that. He’d be doing you a favor, really, because as far as he was concerned, death was certainly preferable to wearing diapers but … the urge fizzles out almost as quickly as it had appeared. He wasn’t going to let you slip out of his hold until after he’d gotten to bury himself in that tight, pretty little pussy of yours.

Decision made, Tomura makes his way over to the carpet again. You look cold, which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, and he bends down to grab the meat of your upper arms so he can drag you up to your feet. “Come on. I think I’ve got a solution.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Salution?”

“Close enough.”

Steering you over to the bed, he makes you bend over the mattress so he can take a baby wipe to the backs of your thighs and ass. Luckily, depending on how you looked at it, the urine had run down rather than going every which direction so it was pretty easy to clean up. The way you tremble and shift your weight back and forth makes it a bit more difficult than it needed to be but he manages, somehow.

Tomura straightens after a long moment, finally deeming the back of you good to go. He’s not so sure he can get through this next part when you were fidgeting so much, though, and he briefly considers the clothes in the gym bag. The thought of putting you in another girly, saccharine sweet garment repulses him almost as much as the thought of putting you in a diaper. But he was going to have to pick and choose his battles here and, reaching back, he delicately tugs off his t-shirt.

“Turn around.”

You slowly comply, teeth chattering the whole time.

“Arms up.”

At this, you hesitate. But at his expectantly bland look, you do as you're told and raise your arms up in the air. The lift of your heavy tits almost successfully distracts him and it is with a great deal of self control on his part that he pulls his shirt down over your head, yanking it a little too forcefully into place.

“There.” He practically hisses, watching you clumsily work your arms through the sleeves. “Is that better?”

You think about that for a moment, eyes scanning across the front of his shirt, and he briefly wonders if you’re going to say something derisive about the worn video game logo stretched across your chest. But then you smile, nodding your head a little too enthusiastically.

“Mm! It smells like Tomu-nii!”

He really couldn’t stand you.

“Good. In return, I’ll need you to cooperate with me here. I’ve never done this before, you know?”

You blink at him quizzically. “Done what?”

Tomura rolls his eyes, feeling grumpier by the second. He couldn’t wait to get this over with and have you situated so he could run off to the bathroom for what probably wouldn’t even amount to five minutes of desperate jerking. “Never mind. Just do what I tell you, okay?”

You nod your head again, but he has some very real doubts about that. Even when you were pretending to go along with whatever it was he wanted you still found some way to fuck everything up for him. If this scheme somehow backfired because your brain was so scrambled you couldn’t even follow simple directions, he was not going to be happy.

Mentally bracing himself for the worst possible outcome, he reaches for the diapers. He rips the bag open almost violently and pulls one out, but it feels even more wrong in his hands than he’d thought it would. A strange sense of scandalized affront warms his chest, making him reconsider this choice for the upteenth time. If Tomura was being completely honest, he felt embarrassed for you but a quick glance in your direction proves that you don’t share quite the same sentiment. You really couldn’t have cared less, huh?

Right. Baby brain.

He grumbles under his breath as he non too gently snaps the diaper open with a loud crinkle of plastic and lays it out close to the edge of his bed. Motioning you closer, Tomura awkwardly helps you get seated on the damn thing and then instructs you to lay down. You genuinely don’t seem to have a problem with this as you recline back, just placidly peering up at him with your little fists balled in the hem of his shirt, but now that he’s gotten this far he’s not sure how to proceed.

At a loss, he takes another baby wipe out of the package and inserts himself between your bent legs. “I’m going to clean you some more, okay?” He's not sure why he’s telling you that, especially when all you do is nod your dopey head in understanding. Just buying time. That’s all he was doing.

But it gives him a chance to think and for that he’s grateful. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to figure out what All for One’s intention with all this had been. ‘A splendid birthday present for my favorite pupil’, he’d said, as if there were any others. But what was the reason? Surely you weren’t actually supposed to be a sex slave for him. Not in this sorry state. His battered onahole did a much better job on that front and it wasn’t prone to tantrums or crying, and it certainly didn’t pee on his stuff. It also didn’t require more than a perfunctory cleaning every few months. He couldn’t very well shove you into his nightstand and forget about it until the next time he was in the mood to rut into something.

All that was true, yes, but … his onahole also wasn’t warm to the touch, and it didn’t have soft, curly hair framing its abused slit (he really should buy a new one) nor did it self lubricate. It didn’t squeeze him quite the same way your pussy had squeezed his fingers, and it didn’t even really feel like an actual vagina now that he had something to compare it to. You were soft and squishy, pliable in the way only flesh and blood could be, and although he had no way of knowing if this had been All for One’s plan or not, he was certainly self aware enough to recognize that he’d screwed up somewhere along the line.

Tomura absolutely should have turned you to dust while he still had the chance.

Licking his lips, he drags the wipe through the seam of your cunt much more slowly than he needed to. You don’t even stir on the bed, and he thinks you must be starting to doze after … all of that. He’s not quite ready to leave well enough alone yet though, and he gently presses down on the spot where he now knows your clit is hiding. Still using the moist towelette as a pretense to keep touching you like this, he circles the sensitive little bud with it and genuine surprise washes over him when you let out a soft, pleasant sigh.

He glances up at your face but you aren’t even looking at him, lashes fanned out against the apples of your cheeks. It’s hard to tell if you were actually asleep or just pretending so you could lull him into a false sense of security, yet he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. You were his so he could do whatever he wanted to you, right? Besides. You kind of owed him after pissing all over his hand like that.

Discarding the baby wipe, Tomura bends closer and carefully spreads your labia again. He could see your little hole weakly palpitating, beckoning him to pick back up where he’d left off, but he drags his gaze a bit higher instead. You were so velvety soft and smooth it bordered on insane, so much more inviting than he ever would have thought possible.

He briefly hesitates before throwing caution aside and sealing his lips around your clit, gently mouthing at it. Your plushy thighs twitch around his head as you shift on top of the mattress, letting out another breathy sound that rushes straight to his cock. It almost hurts, the way it so eagerly springs back to life after being denied something as simple as release, but he can’t find it in himself to complain. You were giving him another chance, knowingly or not, and he wasn’t the type to squander such an opportunity.

Tomura takes his time lapping at you over the next few minutes until you’re almost as wet as when he’d started. You taste heavenly even with the artificial flavor of the wipes clinging to your folds and he entertains the notion of eating you out until you cum all over his face. There’s something he wants even more than that, though, and he sighs in relief when he finally straightens up so he can fish his cock out. It was almost painfully sensitive to the touch, and he could feel it throbbing potently in his hand. He knew this probably wasn’t going to last long but he didn’t care.

Guiding himself to your waiting entrance, he slowly pushes in one fraction at a time, damn near blowing his load the second his glans disappears into your body. He holds back though, struggling to maintain his composure as he seethes through gritted teeth. You finally seemed to realize that something was going on and your pretty eyes flutter open, immediately searching out his face.

“Tomu-nii …?”

“Be quiet. I’ve got you.”

You accept that in lieu of an explanation surprisingly fast, at least by his standards, and without another word you sleepily glance down at the juncture where your bodies were connected. A slow inhale makes your chest rise, mouth falling open as if to groan. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” the sound rattles out of Tomura’s chest as he slides in right down to the base, toes flexing against the floor. “I’m not even gonna’ get to enjoy this.”

Brows knitting together, you let out the softest mewling sound he’s ever heard and it makes him dig his carefully poised fingers deeper into the meat of your hips. He can’t even bring himself to move, so overwhelmed by how soft and wet your guts are. It felt like you were massaging his length, involuntarily or not, as your pussy suckles at the tip like he’s almost positive your mouth would.

Softly wheezing, Tomura drops his chin to look at where the two of you were stuck together. His pelvis was so flush against yours that your pudgy cunt was molded to the front of him, squishing under the pressure, and his silvery pubes were tangled with your darker ones. He hadn’t expected such a sight to be so damn erotic and it has him twitching, fighting back the orgasm he’d gone through hell and back for.

He’s almost scared to do it but, slowly, he eases back. The way his cock gradually reappears, glistening obscenely now, very nearly sends him over the edge. He isn’t sure how he hasn’t ruptured yet, his ballsac drawn so tight and throbbing that it leaves him feeling lightheaded, but through sheer force of will alone he manages to sink back into the inviting heat of your body without spraying your insides white. His self control was tentative as best, hanging on by a mere thread, but you felt far too good to waste on a quick nut.

“Goddamn … you’re so tight, baby. So fucking tight.”

You fidget underneath him, fussily tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Mm’ not a baby …”

Your pouty little response is enough to make him bark out a clipped laugh, more breathless than amused. You could insist you weren’t a baby all you wanted but, even putting aside the cruel, infantile reprogramming of your brain, it was hard to think otherwise when you were spread out on top of a diaper. It’s stark white, cottony lining was an almost unsettling backdrop to the perfect view he had of his cock stuttering in and out of your slick cunt. Even when he was barely moving, it crinkled softly underneath you with each rocking motion of his hips and he couldn’t quite forget it was there no matter how hard he tried.

Tomura wasn’t sure what he would ultimately do with you and he knew even less why he was even entertaining this wildly absurd situation to begin with, but there was no denying that you did have some use. The clinging grip of your pussy, for starters, and if he could get that bratty mouth of yours under control he might even some day find your company bearable. He still didn’t particularly like you but it wasn’t so farfetched to think that he might be able to tolerate you, with enough effort.

Hissing through his teeth, he drags one of his hands down to spread your puffy lips apart and get a good look at the way your petal soft folds clutch to his cock. It was a mesmerizing visual in the worst possible way, especially when accompanied by the soft, wet clicking he pulls from your body. He could have watched this for hours on end but, realistically, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he gives his wrist a brief twist to bring the middle finger down on your clit.

You twitch at the contact but Tomura takes a much more gentle approach this time, sedately drawing circles around the swollen bud. He doesn’t get much in the way of a reaction for his trouble so he just keeps at it, rubbing you in tandem with his staggered thrusts. The thought of making you cum around his cock is almost disturbingly enticing, but he isn’t so sure he can accomplish that. Not when so much of his focus was devoted to simply biting back his orgasm - but then, to his throbbing surprise, you draw a faltering breath.

“Tomu-nii … feels good …”

It’s as if the air had been punched right out of him. He isn't so sure he even believes his own ears, the blood suddenly pounding inside of them making it hard to hear much of anything. He groans though, thick and heavy as he slides his other hand up across your stomach to push at the bottom of his shirt. Your grip on the soft cotton momentarily tightens, still fighting him at every turn, but you give in almost immediately and allow him to shove it over the swell of your tits.

They’re moving, jiggling ever so slightly with the push and pull of his narrow hips as they quietly slap against the backs of your thighs. Tomura heaves, practically doubling over you with another throaty moan that rises in pitch at the tail end. His palm descends on one of your breasts, squeezing hard enough that the pliable flesh bulges and spills out between four of his fingers. You just stare up at him the entire time, face pinched and flushed while your glistening eyes dreamily watch him with a far off sort of quality that he’s sure must be - has to be pleasure.

He’d never seen anything sexier in his whole life, and that thought alone is far more terrifying than he could have ever guessed it would be. There was something wrong with you, yes, by All for One’s design. But there was something even more inherently wrong with him for getting off on this so much and without the added bonus of quirk tampering to excuse his behavior. You were so sweet and unfairly innocent despite your seductive figure, the sight of you naked save his bunched up t-shirt driving him absolutely wild. It was like you belonged here, with him, in his bed. It wasn’t that he no longer wanted to kill you but that he couldn’t.

What little bit of self control he’d still been clinging to up until now shatters, and Tomura snaps his hips into your upturned ass: once, twice, three times. The sticky squelching between your bodies increases in volume, echoing inside his skull like a ricocheting bullet as he watches your face screw up at the sudden force. It doesn’t even matter though. He’s long since reached his limit and, with a wounded grunt, he slams into you one final time, lurching over your prone body.

The sound that comes out of his mouth as he shudders and violently paints your pink guts is, frankly, embarrassing. But he’s riding a high too great to care, clinging to you hard enough to make his joints ache and you whimper in discomfort. He can’t stop though. He’s cumming so hard, pulse after pulse, that it feels like his soul actually slips out of his body for a worryingly long beat before returning in fragmented pieces. The same, but also somehow different. Like he’d experienced rebirth in the warm, comforting clutch of your drenched cunt.

He wheezes as if he’d been stabbed in the chest when he finally eases his softening cock out of you some time later.

Tomura was completely spent, both physically and mentally. His wobbly legs could hardly support his weight anymore but, with a strength of mind he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he directs a shaky finger to your clit again. You squirm in response, huffing after that rough treatment, but he soothes you with hushed words and a gentle touch to the delicate little pearl he barely even needs to brush against to have you shaking for him.

“Relax. You feel good, don’t you? Let me hear those pretty sounds again, baby.”

Obstinately, you purse your lips together to deny him even that one simple request. Tomura heaves a tired sigh, wishing you weren’t such a brat, but he doesn’t let up. The gentle circles he rubs into your clit with the pad of his finger slowly brings you around though, grudgingly, and he can’t quite deny the satisfaction that sparks in his throat when your mouth warbles open to let loose the sweetest, tiny moan he’s ever heard.

“Nngh … Tomu-nii …!”

“Don't fight it. I want you to feel good too, yknow.” He pauses, tongue glancing over his dry lips. “Will you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, eyes screwing shut, but the way your body continues to tense up seems to suggest otherwise. He could tell you were practically thrumming with it, burning from the inside out even as his milky white discharge slowly oozes down your slit to pool in the seat of the diaper. It was unexpectedly exciting to watch, disproportionately naughty given how utterly unappealing the crinkly plastic was at first glance, and he picks up the pace of his rubbing.

“I think you’re lying again. You liked how it felt when I was inside you, right? This will be even better, I promise. You’ll love it. I know you will.”

Weakly writhing on top of his bed, you crack your eyes open to peer up at him again. “T - Tomu-nii … I can’t … ahh. Ahh. Ahh! I … I’m … ahh! Tomu-niiiii!”

You suddenly jerk, tossing your head back against the sheets, and he watches in rapt fascination as you quake so hard it nearly catches him off guard. It wasn’t the seductive, rolling tremors he was used to seeing in porn videos but, rather, a full bodied spasm that had you twisting as if to get away. Your thighs try to clamp shut around his hand but he elbows them apart, refusing to let up until he’d milked your orgasm as thoroughly as you’d milked his.

And you looked so pretty, too. Caught up in mind numbing pleasure so intense he couldn’t even begin to fathom what you were feeling. Even his own earth shattering release seemed to pale in comparison to this, and it takes you much longer to start coming down from it than it did him.

Your hair is a mess by the time you’re done, matted in some places and sticking to your damp forehead in others. For a fleeting moment, Tomura can almost see the adult woman you should have been when your face goes slack in ecstasy and your flushed lips were parted to suck in as much oxygen as you could get. He imagines you were probably no stranger to pleasures of the flesh, not with that body and those looks, so the thought that he could make you feel this good was a bit like a pat on the back for him. It was probably just beginners luck, but that didn’t stop him from feeling any less proud of himself.

Slowly, he takes his hands off you and steps back. The spot between your legs was absolutely covered in fluid, your sticky, copious slick mixing with his spunk to make a truly viscous concoction that clung to your damp curls. He thinks that he should probably clean you up again and reaches for the baby wipes, but stops himself short.

The idea that crosses his mind is very likely foul, perhaps even more offensive than anything else he’d done til now, but … a quick glance at your sloppy pussy proves too great a temptation. There was something inherently erotic about making you walk around with his semen dripping out of you, even if it was only going to be absorbed by the diaper, and he shuffles close again with his heart in his throat.

Tomura hasn’t the slightest clue what he’s doing and it takes him a long moment to figure out the tape tabs on the sides. He gets frustrated halfway through the process, struggling to make sure the crinkly plastic was secure enough around your waist, but by some miracle you stay relatively still through all of his fumbling. He isn’t quite sure how he got so lucky but he doesn’t stop to question it, hawkishly focusing all of his attention on the task at hand.

At length, he straightens to admire his work. It’s not perfect by any means but he’s pretty sure the damned thing wasn’t going to fall off as soon as you stood up so there was that. The diaper itself was just as obnoxiously girly as everything else in the gym bag; a soft, lilac purple with a flowery, cartoon bunny design on them. He didn’t mind the rabbits so much, and it was certainly preferable to the onesie, but he still thought you’d look nice in something a bit cooler.

The realization that he was thinking about this in such quaint, fuzzy terms chills Tomura to the bone, and his gaze flicks to your face so he can ask what you think of them. Even if only to distract himself from his own uncomfortably perverse change of heart.

But you were already asleep. He probably should have expected as much, and he could tell you were actually snoozing this time by the shallow, even rise and fall of your chest. A strange sense of embarrassment washes over him and he reaches out to delicately take the hem of his shirt between thumb and finger so he can tug it back down into place. You only snuggle further into the mattress though, getting comfortable, and further cementing the notion that he had, indeed, fucked up.

He’d never be able to get rid of you now.

Grumbling under his breath, Tomura leans over you with one hand braced on the mattress. The other slips between your legs, unable to squeeze shut now with the bulk of the diaper between them, and ever so carefully cups his palm over your crotch. It was cool to the touch, but if he pushed down hard enough he could feel the warmth of your body bleeding through. You let out a quiet huff in response, petulant towards him even in your sleep, and he can’t quite stop himself from laughing. It was absurd. It was strange. It was strikingly, unequivocally weird, but he was almost glad he hadn’t disintegrated you or strangled you to death.

This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d wished for a woman he could do with as he pleased and not have to worry about her running away, but … it was close enough, he supposed.

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #self insert bullshit #my writing #I'll tag the series later #I don't know if I want this to show at the top of the main tags seems a bit like inviting trouble #I've wanted to write something like this for a very very long time and I just took advantage of Shigaraki's birthday to finally do it #blah #I make him cry bout' the pussy #prolly why my shit so wet #ahh 👅

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smiledog15578 · 3 years

Text

Before I sleep I just wanted to post these since I feel like to understand the situation better

First image: shitty as it sounds this thing he took from one of my posts was from blue shaded. Some dude who just loves to complain about everything any youtuber does like youtubers are supposed to be saints it’s just weird. Anyways ~ I’ve said this before but Ty was blocked during this time so obviously he was stalking and he KNEW it was him cause I knew he was talking shit. However I didn’t say his name so him getting butthurt really says something that he thought it was about him (and it was! But if I didn’t wanna say his name cause 1. I respected his privacy at the time and 2. I knew he would do this ☠️

Second image: I knew exactly what the fuck he was talking about. I say this because me and a friend saw him talking about it WITH HIS NAME HANDLE ON IT so you kinda fucked your self over with this one FR. If you want to see what he said it’s on one of @chatterghosts ‘s post I reblogged it so it’s probably below this one. I also find it funny that he thought I got it from Nate and Nate (why y’all named the same that’s so funny omg SORRY OFF TRACK) when I did but also like- blue shaded isn’t a private account you can see that shit in plain sight👁👁 hello. Also of course Nate knows the full story cause he told me AFTER you had this conversation and he told me everything but anyways 🎊

Third image: that’s probably a load of bs cause after you talked shit about Ethan you talked shit about jack. Not only that you FEED on this behavior. When I was in the discord you always talked shit about jack and nit picked over the smallest faults he’s made. You being associated with blue even ONCE tells me that you are attracted to these people (not romantically obviously but you get my point). Then we go onnn about me leaving the discord. Like I had the choice to tell you? I knew you’d talk shit about me if I told you why I left and if I lied you’d find out so I did the right thing and just left for good. I blocked ty on almost every platform I knew of and ghosted that mf (like I stated earlier, he found my only account I forgot to block him because I blocked him on the rest of my accounts🤡 I’ve met too many people who will do everything to find my other accounts just so they can have their say instead of just idk... maybe leaving that person alone?). A lot of my friends told me to leave ty with a LOT of evidence and personal experiences so this wasn’t just something I did on a whim. I took the courage to do it and I’m glad I did.

Fourth image: ANOTHER BS THING. I know damn well you simped for Mark so obviously you stood up to him the most. When I was being harrassed for liking Mark and how he’s a neo Nazi (? I still think that’s utter bullshit and also what’s up with mfs assuming every German last named mf is a Nazi like dude he’s a minority why would he be a Nazi- anyways) ty was saying so much stuff about how marks a good guy and while I do agree ty kept doing this a lot. Mark was his jesus to his crazy Christian after all. He babied Mark in a weird way like I get it I get that way too but I know that Mark is a grown ass man and he has to defend himself I’m not his momma and I’m not going to be a pokimane simp to him. In one of his rants about Ethan he said that Ethan was mooching off of unus annus like HELLO?? Ethan was apart of unus annus he should be proud of it? Plus it’s not like Mark hasn’t done the same thing and of course ty hasn’t said anything about Mark cause again Mark is a saint to him so not surprising. Ethan HARDLY gets credit for being apart if unus annus so I’m glad he gets to gloat about it because bruh if I did something like that I’d be promoting it and milking it it’s YouTube what do you expect- I feel like most people in this fandom treats Ethan as Mark’s sidekick like idk he didn’t also did as much as Mark? And I don’t even WATCH Ethan as much as Mark and I think this mf deserves more credit. The Markiplier has this weird double standard between youtubers idk I just find it odd as hell. Like the time pokimane came onto cloak and everyone calling her a slut? And whore? Like bruh I hate her but come on how low can you fuckin go. THERES a lot of bs in this fandom I could talk about after being in it for 6 years but that’s for another time❤️. the way ty says “I’m sorry what I said about Ethan made YOU upset” just sounds like “I’m sorry what I said made you feel that way :/“. It’s like what he said he doesn’t even recognize was wrong and doesn’t even care that what of he might of said was insensitive and just plain not in his lane to say that shit.

Fifth image: um what 😀 I was already out of the discord so do it yourself? Like yea lemme just ask to come back in and delete them🏃‍♂️- like no fuck you maybe you shouldn’t have treated people like shit I would of but no that’s your problem now. Also bruh my BLOG? I’ve never posted shit that I’ve had from the discord (aka discord screenshots) unless I forgot but from the looks of it he’s probably implying to delete my art from my blog😀. No bitch this is my blog you damn dictator I’ll delete something when I want to you’re not my parents. Also I hate this parenting attitude he has about how I have to do it 😐. Bruh you are a 20 year old man who likes Markiplier from the Internet I don’t gotta do shit HFHFJBJBJ. My final wish was to leave you loser for good but I see sore losers don’t like to see their teammates leave for their shitty behavior lolz.

TLDR: bitches ain’t SHIT this dude has serious abandonment issues over at the time 16 year old who doesn’t even know them irl

I’d like to say I didn’t bring up the actual things people who’ve talked to me about their personal experiences cause that’s for them to speak up about and that’s their private information. I’m only talking about my experience with this creep. Like I stated before I’m sick of this dude on my dick and bring up old fights that should of been resolved like a real mature adult but I guess a 17 year old has to finish this shit and many others.

I would go on more about the Ethan situation but you’ve heard me yak a whole essay of bs so I’ll leave that on hold (unless you wanna talk about it hmu 😏) idk if I should put this in the Markiplier tag cause this isn’t really a Big M problem but more of the cesspool of the fandom problem but I just want y’all Markiplier fans to watch out for this dude and I mean it PLEASE

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kirksfattitties · 3 years

Text

asks you can smell the privilege and internalized ableism radiate from

(tw for ableism and other bigoted implications)

i’m bad at reading tone but even i understand that this is 100% you being condescending and trying to cover it up with smiley faces and false sincerity. and i don’t appreciate that.

before i get into deconstructing your shitty ableist argument, i want to explain the reasons i believe in self diagnosis (self-dx):

even professional diagnosis doesn’t start with a doctor diagnosing you. there has to be a reason for seeing the doctor. some people see a doctor in their adult life because they’re struggling, some people are taken by their parents, some people are referred or suggested that they see a specialist. whatever it is, you don’t just see a doctor and they magically give you a neurodivergency. people have neurodivergencies before they see doctors and even if they NEVER see a doctor.

the psychiatry system is flawed in MANY ways and to say that it isn’t means you’re denying the experiences of people with less privledge than yourself. also like psychiatry isn’t gonna suck your dick. you don’t have to be a bootlicker lol

in many places (hi hello i’m from america where our government tries to indirectly kill us by not providing us with adequate healthcare! i and many other people have many issues we can’t get fixed because simply our government cares more about the economy than us), seeing a psychiatrist or a therapist or going to a mental hospital or WHATEVER is INCREDIBLY expensive. and to assume that everyone has access and enough time/money/energy/transportation/whatever to do all of that is classist and elitist.

ANYTHING medical (including mental health) is biased towards white cis men. most studies are done on white cis men/boys. because of this, people who aren’t white cis men (or people who aren’t perceived as white cis men) are often not diagnosed. the system is racist. the system is sexist. the system is transphobic. people don’t know how to diagnose autism or adhd or personality disorders or other neurodivergencies or even mental illnesses in black people and other people of color, in women, in trans people, etc. and GOD FORBID someone be in multiple (or all) of those categories. saying “just go get diagnosed :)” is a privileged statement to make.

shocker! the psychiatry system is also ableist. if you’re already diasabled (whether it be mental or physical) and you see a doctor about ANOTHER disability? the doctor is most likely going to shoot you down. or at least be weary about someone having mutliple disabilities.

also most people who diagnose are neurotypical. they have never and will probably never experience neurodivergency so they can never fully understand it. they operate off of stereotypes of neurodivergent people and usually only stereotypical behavior of neurodivergent white cis men (which, as i mentioned before, is problematic for anyone who isn’t a white cis man). neurotypical diagnosers don’t know the neurodivergent culture and aren’t trained to recognize very common things (like masking for example).

a professional diagnosis can also be weaponized. not everyone can get a professional diagnosis because there are some neurodivergencies (such as autism and personality disorders) and mental illnesses (like depression) that can have legal and medical respercussions to have in your record. trans people can be denied medical and legal transition for being professionally diagnosed. people can lose custody battles for being professionally diagnosed. a professional diagnosis can be used as justification for taking away someone’s body autonomy (especially if that person is also physically disabled).

a LOT of neurodivergencies also have some type of symptom (or symptoms) that make it difficult to interact with people. troubles recognizing facial expressions, troubles understanding certain phrases and types of speech, paranoid about people, audio processing issues, being nonverbal in an environment that doesn’t accommodate for it, overstimulation, extreme social anxiety, discomfort in new situations, problems with eye contact, and a lot more. because like. for many nd people, interacting with people is very difficult and stressful. and hey. if you want to get a professional diagnosis? take a WILD guess what you have to do? FUCKING INTERACT with people! LIKE?? JEHDJJDKEKKDKDKDS. do you know how many professionally diagnosed nd people i know who made their appointment COMPLETELY on their own without help from a parent or family member or friend? LITERALLY ZERO! and i know A FEW nd people who have professional diagnoses! so if someone has social issues that prevent them from doing tasks like calling and making an appointment, showing up for an appointment, talking during the appointment, etc and ALSO doesn’t have familial or friend support (because newsflash! people who are friends/family of disabled people can still be ableist)? almost impossible to get a diagnosis! plus, the diagnosis process is TIME CONSUMING. not everyone can focus on a task for that long and not everyone can miss work/school for that long.

so those are the reasons i support self-dx. (although there’s probably more that i’m forgetting but i have adhd and it’s hard for me to remember things!)

so hopefully you now understand my reasons for believing in self-dx, and perhaps even you’re pro-self-dx now because before you were just uneducated on these issues and how they impact people who aren’t you.

but in case you’re still anti-self-dx and probably hate already-marginalized neurodivergent people, let’s talk about this horrendous ask (series of asks, actually) that i got sent. i feel like i can feel the self hatred and internalized ableism OOZING from this ask and into my inbox, so thanks for that i guess /s

“Sometimes people who self diagnose can take away from those who are actually nd, even sometimes from themselves.”

starting out strong with the ableism on this one by separating people into “self diagnosed” and “actually nd” people. self diagnosed people ARE actually nd

there’s not a limited number of nd resources. this isn’t a math equation of only x amount of people can be nd because there’s only y amount of resources. more people realizing they’re nd will actually MAKE more resources for nd people and will bring more awareness to being nd

even IF someone self diagnosed, and they go back on it later, what harm was done? they learned some coping mechanisms? they made some nd friends? neither of those are problematic and i think they’re both actually very helpful. i think nt people SHOULD learn more about nd people and stuff because i think that will lead to WAYYY less misunderstandings and WAYYYY less ableism

“There are many people who fake nds for attention,”

hey anon, what fucking world do you live in that nd’s are cool enough to fake having? because i would LOVE to live there. like, i literally had a post about my personality disorder (which i will not be specifying) i had to delete because people were sending my anons about how i was “scary” and “threatening” now that they knew i had the personality disorder i have. last year i left a discord server because the ableism i was recieving from not only the members of the server, but the mods as well. there are very few people i know irl who i tell about my personality disorder, but when i tell people about my adhd, they start treating me different. they infantalize me and make fun of me and use “jokes” about stereotypical adhd behaviors to alienate me and they even TELL OTHER PEOPLE without my permission. i was SEVERELY bullied throughout elementary and middle school for being nd. i have been refused job and educational opportunities as well as literal medical attention for being nd. people aren’t “faking” being nd, and if they were they probably wouldn’t be doing it for long because it’s not something that’s EASY to deal with.

kinda ironic that you’re saying people can’t diagnose themselves but that YOU can tell when someone is faking their diagnosis. that’s both hypocritical and a double standard.

masking exists. if you think someone isn’t “acting nd enough” they’re probably masking because they’ve been fucking bullied and harrassed. also you’re probably basing whatever you think nd is on stereotypes. not every nd person is sheldon cooper lol.

this is a side note but can we talk about how you’re literally just taking transmed rhetoric and molding it to fit nd people? like. you really come onto MY NONBINARY NEURODIVERGENT blog and expect me to validate your recycled “but what about the REAL [insert group] people?” ??? like grow up, elitist. you’re not better than anyone else just because you lick some boots 🥾 👅

“and claiming that self diagnosis (and this is just what I interpreted) is just as valid as professional diagnosis”

it is 😌

the only difference between self diagnosis and professional diagnosis is that a professional diagnosis can also get you medicine. not every neurodivergency needs meds and not every neurodivergency can be treated (at this time or even ever). for example, my pd (self diagnosed) doesn’t have a specific treatment but multiple symptoms of the pd (all professionally diagnosed) have specific treatments and medicines that work, so patients are given/diagnosed with/prescribed those instead. also, medicine doesn’t work for everyone! and sometimes people are allergic to or take medicines that will conflict with any new medicine.

“can really devalue the account of someone who actually has a disorder”

here we go again with that “self diagnosed” vs “actually nd” bullshit. literally just say you hate poor people n minorities and leave lol

someone having a different experience than you isn’t devaluing you, but if you’re the one who always has the spotlight maybe you should use your privledge uplift other marginalized people instead of feeling angry when everything isn’t all about you 100% of the time

“I have a second ask”

i don’t want it

“Plus it can be damaging for a person if they self diagnose wrong.”

how? what if they learn information that they wouldn’t’ve otherwise known like coping mechanisms that help them with their own neurodivergencies? that’s definitely not a bad thing

i think it’s funny that you bring up that people can self diagnose wrong and don’t even MENTION that doctors can diagnose wrong. like. you know. the people who GIVE OUT MEDICINE to people. i think it’s MUCH more dangerous when a PROFESSIONAL diagnosis is wrong. what are self-dx people with wrong diagnoses gonna do? read up on nd tips? maybe smoke some weed? drink some coffee? that’s about all they can do with a self-dx. but if a MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL gives you an INCORRECT diagnosis, they can ACTUALLY fuck you up.

“I was recently diagnosed with PTSD, a disorder which I would have never considered I’d have.”

that’s great about your professional diagnosis! i don’t know you but i’m glad you’re finding out about yourself and getting the help you want and/or need /srs

sorry if this sounds blunt, but honestly i’m not surprised you never considered you could have PTSD. based on your asks, you sound like you have a lot of internalized ableism you need to work through and a lot more research about neurodiversity you need to do. being anti-self diagnosis is a common belief among a lot of people with internalized ableism and a lot of these same people are the ones who have no issue with and even SUPPORT auti$m $peaks. many nd organizations that are run BY nd people (like asan) actually support self-dx.

“If I had of diagnosed my own symptoms and then started treating myself or taking precautions based on my self diagnosed "condition", it could of really hurt me.”

how? taking precautions to preserve your mental health is NEVER a bad idea. i’m not ptsd, but someone i care deeply about DOES have ptsd and has shared a lot of the precautions and coping mechanisms for ptsd with me and honestly they’ve been incredibly helpful. it’s almost as if different neurodivergencies and/or mental illnesses have overlap and that’s why there’s a whole community for us to be able to share these resources and information with each other!

the same person was rejected a formal autism diagnosis because of their ptsd, plus the fact that they’re transgender and the fact they have symptoms of adhd. it’s not really my place to talk about their experience with professional diagnosis, but i’ll send this post to them and allow them to add on their experience in a rb if they’re comfortable with that. but it’s almost as if their experience with the professional diagnosis process was unhelpful, harmful, ableist, and transphobic 🧐 and unfortunately this is a pretty common experience

“Also, by self diagnosing, I devalue the account of a person with the disorder l assumed I had.”

how? if someone thinks they’re nd, they have a legitimate reason for thinking so. either they have another neurodivergency than the one they thought they had, or they’re neurotypical and need to figure themself out and have a need for support. either way, they learned more about the specific neurodivergency, more about the nd community, and more about themself. i don’t see how that’s a bad thing.

if you think self-diagnosed people’s experiences inherently have less value, that is straight up ableism. especially considering that other marginalized identities and minorities have trouble getting professional diagnoses, you might also be bigoted in some other way. or at the very least, refusing to acknowledge your privilege.

“only one more I promise”

i don’t want it

“I understand that doctors are expensive and professionals can get it wrong,”

okay. if you understand this, then dm me your information so i can bill you for the cost of my professional diagnoses, the cost for my therapy sessions, the cost for my medicine, and the cost for transportation to and from all these places. PLUS the cost of the work and school i’ll be missing for these sessions. 🤲

“but self diagnosis can be really harmful to yourself or others.”

nah, you’re just ableist and a gatekeeper lol

“If you feel like you have a disorder, go see a psychiatrist, you may have it.”

[remembers when i went to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with two major symptoms of a personality disorder and said i had other symptoms of the pd as well but refused to diagnose me with the actual personality disorder because i was a minor at the time and he told me “kids don’t have personalities so they can’t have personality disorders”. i understand being weary about diagnosing children with personality disorders because they aren’t fully developed but this dude straight up told me that i didn’t have a personality. this man literally only worked with children so that means he literally never diagnosed personality disorders. this man was literally just lazy and didn’t care about his patients. this man also refused to believe me when i told him the medicine he prescribed me made my symptoms worse and even made me hallucinate. he ignored me and refused to change my medicine so eventually i just changed psychiatrists and they put me on a new medicine that DIDNT make my symptoms worse and DIDNT make me hallucinate. also i looked it up after our session and apparently ONLY people with my pd and related ones experience hallucinations on that certain medication. it’s almost like his refusal to diagnose me and ignoring my symptoms/concerns harmed me. this man also constantly misgendered me and told me that homosexuality and transgenderism should’ve still been in the dsm. like golly, it’s almost as if being queer and neurodivergent in an extremely conservative state is harmful and dangerous. and that psychiatrists aren’t immune from being homophobic and transphobic and ableist.] but yes :) perhaps i should see another psychiatrist in this conservative state :)

“I don't want to undermine anyone's actual experiences, but it can be dangerous.”

then stop undermining people’s actual experiences :)

no ❤️

“If you feel like something's wrong, go see a professional.”

the whole point of the neurodiversity movement is that there IS no such thing as a “normal” brain, so saying that neurodivergent people have something “wrong” with them is ableist.

💰 🤲 hand it over

“I don't want to offend, I just don't want anyone to get mislead or hurt. :)”

you absolutely meant to offend. you literally said that self-diagnosed people’s experiences aren’t valid and have less value than people who have professional diagnoses

i know more people who have been (and personally have been) mislead and hurt by professionals than by simply existing as a self-diagnosed person

also i want to say that being pro-self dx is NOT being anti-professional/formal diagnosis. i think that people should absolutely get a professional diagnosis (if they are able to without negative repercussions)! being pro-self dx is more inclusive of marginalized people (like people of color, women, lgbtq+ people, people with multiple disabilities, etc). pro-self dx is simply just saying that professional diagnosis isn’t the only option

(neurotypical people and anti-self dx people don’t add anything; pro-self dx neurodivergent people are allowed to add with their experiences if they want)

#asks #long post #nd adventures #ableism tw #sexism tw #racism tw #transphobia tw #misgendering mention #medical abuse mention #not star trek #homophobia tw

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