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#tw self-hatred
carmillatism · 9 months
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since ao3 is down: carmilla fic @drcarmillaappreciationweek
Sometimes A Mom Is Just A Goth Vampire Lesbian From Outer Space And That's Okay
For Dr. Carmilla Appreciation Week: Mom Monday
trigger warnings for implied/referenced child abuse and neglect, implied/referenced parental abuse, and light self-hatred
note: i will be posting this (and other fanfics for this week) on ao3 once it is up and working again. just don't want to wait any longer for this fic. first time posting a fic on tumblr as well, just so it's known.
fic under the cut
"So, how was your mother?"
"Oh, starting with the hard-hitting questions, huh?" She crosses her legs, then uncrosses them. She scooches around on the chair before giving up. She stares.
"I mean there's no other way to start it, is there? You didn't give me much to work with, so…" Carmilla narrows her eyes.
"Watch it. Just because you're giving me therapy, doesn't mean you get to be disrespectful." She tries to add a hint of humor to her voice because she knows she doesn't mean it. Really. …Well, she kind of does. It's weird. That's why she's in therapy.
She sighs before leaning back in her chair, folding into herself. "Well, I guess she was fine. She wasn't as bad as my father; that's for sure."
"I'm not going to ask you about your father as we aren't here for that, don't worry, but you said 'not as bad'. What does that mean?"
She sighs, frowning slightly. She really was going to divulge this information to a stranger then. "She wasn't actively bad, really. She just allowed so many things to pass. She never really tried to stop anyone from doing anything. She was so passive, so easily used by people who just wanted to hurt her- her kids- me. She wasn't good in that way."
"And that passive response can be just as bad as the people who actively hurt you." She cringes at that.
"I wouldn't say that…"
"Oh, okay. How come?"
She pauses, thinking about the question. Well, she did help her sometimes. …Sometimes. "She… um, well, she helped me on occasion. She taught me how to take care of myself, make food. She sometimes helped me with my studies."
"So, the bare minimum?" The question is innocent and she knows they're trying to help, but that statement snaps something in her. The very fragile dam of emotions she built about that topic crumbles. It was never that strong anyways.
She always knew what her mother did wasn't the best. That was why she was here for the Gods' sake. But she hadn't ever thought about it in that way. Her mom had barely done the bare minimum and yet she still praised her so much… She did the bare minimum and much worse so often that Carmilla just felt like she had to praise her just for doing something… kind, that she should do. She praised her for doing what all mothers should do for their children.
She couldn't stop it. She felt tears beginning to swell in her eyes. A few started to leak out. She grabbed a few tissues from the tissue box laying on the table next to her.
"I never really thought about it in that way, but… yes. If that. She did the bare minimum sometimes, and other times- most times- she didn't. She just let me get hurt and let my father hurt me with not a care in the world. And she never really apologized, more so made it about herself than anything else. She didn't focus on me that much, and if she did, it was because I messed up somehow."
Her therapist looks down at their paper before scribbling on a pad resting in their lap. Tears are streaming down her face, but she's surprisingly calm. It was almost relieving to get this out.
"And this… you mentioned that you wanted to talk about being a mom…?" Her head perks up at that and she stares at them for a moment. Did she write that down…? Oh. Right. Curse her past, emotionally volatile self.
"Oh, I guess. It's just I was wondering about how I am as a mother. I try to help a lot; I do. But sometimes it just doesn't come out right. I feel like I make situations worse when I try to help." She cringes and looks down at her hands folded in her lap.
"And what do you do to help them?"
She thinks for a second. There was a lot, she thought. Maybe… too much? She should probably mention the things she did that usually made her Mechanisms worse, though.
"Well, a lot of times I would think their mechanisms were acting up and making them feel bad, so I'd take them to the lab and get them the help they needed."
Her therapist frowns, writing something down on their paper. She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply. This is a safe space for her to talk about herself. She won't be judged. …But even so, she couldn't stop herself from judging her own words that came from out of her mouth.
Her therapist looks down at their clipboard, tapping their pen against it, thinking. "And what did you do to help?"
She frowns, thinks. Was it really helping? Did she actually help them? Or was what she did something that only made them worse? "I would usually perform surgery on them…" Her therapist seems to have to hold back a reaction. "I'd get to the root of the problem, their mechanism, and make sure it was all up to date and working well."
Her therapist hums thoughtfully, and she stiffens before relaxing. Her therapist leans a bit forward, chin in hand. "And were their… mechanisms really the problem?"
She stops at that. Were they? She had always thought that it had to have been something with the mechanisms that were making them feel bad. They usually worked just fine, but they were still experimental tech that hadn't been used before. She just always assumed that it had to be that. The mechanisms are the clear reason, so what else could it be?
"I mean, yeah." She stops. Well, actually, a lot of times when she'd knock them out, get into their mechanism, they would be just fine, running smoothly. So if it wasn't the mechanism then what was it?
The therapist takes her silence as a cue to add, "Did there seem to be a common throughline for why they needed help? What signs were there?
"Well… they seemed okay at first. Usually right after they were mechanized there was understandable fear and confusion, but they'd soon come to find a routine. They grew comfortable on the ship. I'd take them in to check on them, their mechanisms. I think it was only after that they seemed to get worse. Did I scare them about their mechanisms too much? Did I make them worried? They always seemed so scared and worried, sometimes defensive."
Her therapist just continued to look at her, a sad look on their face. Did she say something wrong? No. No. The therapist wouldn't judge her for that. She was just judging herself too harshly.
"I mean they would usually be fine before I took them back. I'd watch them from the other room, and they would seem fine. They would talk, play games and music, and destroy stuff sometimes." She thinks fondly about those memories before continuing. "And then when I would walk into the room with the news that I needed to double check their mechanism, that's when they would get scared. They'd always back away, beg me not to take them back. I can't believe I scared them so much about their own mechanisms." She looks up to the therapist to see if they have anything to add. They just stare at her before motioning for her to continue. She does. "But… well, even when I didn't bring up surgeries, treatment, or their mechanisms, they would get scared like that often. Almost all the time. It was always when…"
Her hand flies to her mouth before she can utter the next part. A noise between a strangled yell and a cry parts her lips and she instinctively pushes her hand harder against her mouth to stop it from getting out.
Her therapist smiles sadly, nodding just slightly.
She… was the problem. They were always scared when she walked in. They were always fine right before. They always got scared when she entered. They were scared of… her.
That… she can't believe she could do something like that, make her own kids so scared of her. That was… insane. She thinks morbidly to herself that it's almost as insane as making people immortal. It was insane just as much as it was true. Her therapist had only confirmed it.
"How could I… How did I never realize?"
Her therapist looks at her hard for a moment, and she thinks she can truly see them for the first time. She's actually focused on who they are. They're a real, living person that she's just spilt her guts to. "People can get stuck in their own head sometimes. They think what they're doing is the right thing because that's all they've ever known." Tissues barely made a dent in the tears streaming down her face. They were silent, however. Acceptance could hurt just as much as any pain. "You can think you're doing the right thing, but the right thing for one person can be the wrong thing for another. Kind of like the opposite version of 'one's man treasure can be another man's trash'."
So that's why they always seemed so scared. It was her. They were scared of her. She thought she was helping them with those surgeries, with mechanizing them in the first place, but she wasn't… She had never even thought she could be the problem.
"How could I be so bad…?" Her body was a coiled wire. A coiled wire, ready to be let go and lash out at anything and everything. But, well, not anything nor everything. She just wanted to lash out at herself.
How could she fix this? This wasn't something you fixed with a handsaw, anesthetic, and some morphine.
"It's hard. It's hard to know what you're doing, especially when you never had a good example to begin with." Oh. Oh that- That makes sense. "What you did was bad-" She cringes at that but nods. It was. "-but bad things happen and people do those bad things. But that doesn't always make them bad people. Even if they were once bad, they don't have to stay that way. It's not up to you to decide if they forgive you, but you can, either way, decide to be a better person." Oh. That was nice. She… She could be better. She had all of eternity to make things better. She could do that. She could, at least, make things better than they once were. That was a promise.
"I… Thank you. Thank you very much."
Her therapist nods. "Of course. It will take time, but you can become better. You can do it for them. Just… give them time and space right now. Rushing into it will just make things worse. And… don't be scared to reach out to help on how to become better. People are working every day to better themselves. I'm sure there's many people who would respect your endeavors and could provide advice. People do fucked up things, but that doesn't have to mean they're fucked up people."
That was… Maybe she understood why people went to therapy.
Her tears had stopped rolling, thankfully having stopped before she got to the end of the tissue box. She was… glad she went here. It was a lot to hear that she hadn't been as good a mother as she had thought she tried to be, but it was nice to have confirmation that she could get better. She could do better. So much better. She could be a better mom.
She smiles and nods at her therapist and they smile back.
And… since the session was coming to a close, she could ask the therapist a question. Maybe for a little more comfort. Mostly just because she was interested. Damn that cat curiosity killed.
"Do you think the mechanisms see me as their mom?"
The therapist thinks for a second. Yeah. From what I know, I would say so." They stop, then, contemplating something. "I don't think of you as my mom, though." Oh, WHAT? Come the fuck on.
She frowns before arching a brow at that, staring him down. "...Marius, now, why would you say that?"
Marius shifts in his seat uncomfortable, clipboard still in hand, but he has stopped tapping his hand. Carmilla laughs to herself and thinks they're more weary of the gun they have on their hip, now.
"Well, I mean, you just really didn't make me like the rest, you know? You didn't make Tim, Raph or me." Marius looks at her and Carmilla looks anywhere but him, just to rile him up some more.
She looks to her left then right before pursing her lips at him, looking slightly disappointed. Marius sighs and runs a hand through his hair. They seem to want to throw their hands up in the air, before thinking better of it.
"Doc, come on. You're more like a family friend than anyone else. You're like someone who pops in sometimes to see what's going on." Carmilla feigns anger at that, and Marius sighs even deeper this time, resting their head against their hand.
"Oh, so I'm just a family friend, am I? I make almost all of you, and I'm just a family friend. I see how it is, Marius." She hangs her head downcast and sniffles a bit for emphasis.
Marius closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in deep thought. They open their eyes again, and level a stare at Carmilla. "Carmilla, it's just that Raph was more the one that made me and I still don't know you that well. Like, the others are definitely your kids, but I'm- we're- just not." Carmilla notices that whilst exasperated, he doesn't seem to be stressed, moreso playing along with her. But either way, it is nice to hear where the two of them stood in reference to her. She still didn't know the two that well.
"That's docteur to you, Marius." Marius gives an exasperated sound before finally throwing his hands in the air, clipboard flying to the floor. "And, I mean, would you consider Raphaella your mom?"
"What? No!" Marius' face has turned into a grimace. He looks somewhat sick.
Carmilla hides a smile, trying to keep the conversation as serious as possible. She arches a suspicious eyebrow. "Well, then, being made by someone obviously doesn't make them your mom."
"Well-" She cuts them off.
"So me creating you obviously doesn't matter here. I think it should be more about the fact that I take care of all of you and make sure your mechanisms are working just fine. Plus, I cook for you and help you when you're feeling down. And! I do that all in a motherly way." Carmilla looks proud of herself. Marius looks… confused. "So why are you so hesitant to call me mom when it's clear that's what I am to you?" She was actually a bit curious at the answer.
"Hey! This was supposed to be a therapy session for you, not me! Also, wouldn't this break some type of rule in therapy if I was treating my mom since you 'are' my mom?" He's really against calling her his mom. Interesting. Either way, Carmilla isn't worried. She'll make them see she's their mom soon.
"You're not an actual therapist, Marius. If you were, you wouldn't be giving out therapy on a ship in the middle of nowhere. You'd have a license and some of your therapy sessions wouldn't include se-"
"Hey! Low blow! You don't always need a license from some big industry to be able to do something." He's red in the face but laughing good-naturedly, and Carmilla allows herself a giggle.
"You quite literally need a license to be a therapist, Marius." Marius rolls their eyes at that.
"Oh, well, I guess that means you aren't a doctor anymore because your license surely has been taken away after breaking the hippocratic oath so many times."
Carmilla's mouth drops open and she has to stop herself from blurting out a laugh. Yeah, she could get used to this Marius kid.
"Oh, Marius, you're grounded for like 3 years now."
Now it's time for Marius' jaw to drop. He stares at her, bug eyed. "You literally can't do that! You're not my mom!"
"You may not see me as your mom, Marius, but that doesn't make me any less a mom in general, so I can most definitely ground you."
"How can you even ground me on a ship, light-years away from any planet?" Marius actually looks somewhat worried.
She thinks on that for a second and then says, "You're going to be stuck in your room for 3 years, then."
"TIM!"
Dr. Carmilla glares at Marius, tapping her foot against the floor. Of course Marius has to try and use someone else to support his bullshit claim. Can't back it up on his own. She hears Tim running towards them and rolls her eyes when she sees Tim pop his head in through the door frame.
"Uh, what's up?" She asks, before looking between Dr. Carmilla sitting in an armchair and Marius holding a clipboard, glasses on his forehead, and wearing clothes that seem more business casual than his normal outfit. This was some type of therapy session then. Tim looks behind him before looking back in the room, furrowing his brows and squinting slightly. "...If you're having a therapy session, I can just… leave…" She starts backing up, seeming to not want any part in whatever Carmilla and Marius were doing.
Marius holds up a hand out to stop Tim. "No, no, nope. The therapy session is over and I need to ask you a question." Carmila sighs, looking between Tim and Marius. Marius always had to cause a scene (which was another reason why they were her kid).
Tim comes back to the door frame, but steps a bit back and out of the way, apparently scared of what he's about to be asked. Marius would either want her to come practice some type of fucked up form of therapy, or pretend he was a Baron. Which Marius really seemed to think he was even though it was obvious to Tim that Marius didn't even know where Britain was in the first place. And Carmilla, she would probably just stare at her eyes. For a long time. A long long time.
"Uh, ask away, then-"
Marius barely allows Tim to get their sentence out before asking, "Would you say Dr. Carmilla is my mom?"
Whatever she was expecting, that was not it. Why are they wondering about the schematics of moms…? Why couldn't they just be normal and murder people? Why talk when you can… oh, she doesn't know, explode a couple planets.
"Tim." Her head snaps to Marius and her goggles zoom in on their face. He looks… serious? Well, as serious as Marius could be.
"I mean I don't really know how to answer that-"
"Tim, just answer their question so this conversation can end." Carmilla just stares at him, tired.
"Uh, well, probably not, then." Carmilla exclaims and Tim cuts her off before she can say anything. "I mean! You didn't really make him nor have you been around him for that long, so…" Tim stops, thinking for a moment, tapping their chin for added effect. "I guess you're more like a stepmother."
"A STEPMOTHER?" Carmilla yells and Tim shrugs. Marius is laughing, doubled over.
"You know, she has a point, Doc." Marius says through tears of laughter.
"A POINT? I'LL SHOW YOU A POINT, MARIUS VON RAUM-"
"HEY. CAN YOU GUYS SHUT IT? SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO GET AN OLD-ASS TV THEY LOOTED TO WORK PROPERLY." Jonny's muffled yells can be heard from the common rooms.
They all shut up, looking between each other, barely keeping back laughs. And then they're all in hysterics: cackling, sobbing, hiccupping, rolling over themselves as they try to gain any semblance of control over their bodies. But they just can't stop, the absurdity of the conversation– the situation– making them lose it.
And Carmilla, there, in that moment, as she's shaking from laughing so hard, realizes something. Maybe Mom was less about the title, itself, and more about the experience the word describes.
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kudossi · 2 years
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all the evidence of your vacant life
“Sometimes I feel like I’m living on borrowed time.”
Hollyleaf’s words shatter the warm silence, and the siblings are left cold and drifting, as if they’ve been swept out into the lake in the depths of leaf-bare. Neither brother speaks. Hollyleaf laughs, the sound grim and certain. “I can—I can claw myself, you know, and it doesn’t feel like anything.” There’s a shuffling of paws, a sense of satisfaction from his sister that hums like lightning in his teeth.
“Nothing feels real,” the black she-cat admits. She’s bleeding from somewhere  — Jayfeather is sure she’s done it herself, in some sort of wordless example — but he’s also sure her black fur disguises most of it, just as it had disguised any wounds Ashfur had given her in self-defense. The only reason he knows is by the tang of copper in the air, by Lionblaze’s sharp inhale.
“Hollyleaf,” Lionblaze says, and he can hear the rasp of Lionblaze’s tongue against Hollyleaf’s fur, the way his sister moves deftly out of the way, her paws crunching on dried-out leaf-mold. 
“Don’t you understand?” Hollyleaf asks. “Nothing I do matters anymore. You and Dovewing — you’ll save the Clans, whether I’m here or not. I’m only even here because…” she trails off. Shame radiates from her pelt.
“Because I saw you,” Lionblaze finishes bitterly. “Because I made you come back.”
A hard swallow. “Yes.”
“Didn’t you want to see us again?” Lionblaze’s words are harsh, but there’s an undercurrent of hurt to them, an old wound torn open, one that had never quite healed. “Didn’t you want to… live?”
Hollyleaf gives a shuddering exhale. Jayfeather can almost picture her, hesitant and aching and nervous and grief-filled, standing so close to where she had once disappeared. “I never wanted to leave you,” she says. “Or you, Jayfeather.” Her tone is sincere, pleading. “But you have to understand — you have to, please, you must understand — all I bring is bad luck.” She laughs. It’s a cold sound. “Don’t you remember that old elders’ tale? Turns out that it’s true,” she says, and her voice is wild now, filled with so many tangled emotions that Jayfeather can’t begin to pull them apart. “Black cats are bad luck. They always have been.”
“You know that’s not true,” Lionblaze says. “You were always the rising -star. Everyone thought so highly of you. You were better than any of us as 'paws. Don't you remember?"
“And what am I now?” Hollyleaf asks. “Nothing. No one. Brought back to a Clan that hates me with a purpose that doesn’t exist anymore. It’s been like this for all of ThunderClan’s black cats. You know it as well as I do.”
“Leopardfoot was a young cat in a bad situation,” Jayfeather whispers. “Ravenpaw was a hero.”
Hollyleaf scoffs. “A hero who had to leave,” she says. “Don’t you see? You’re proving my point. By bringing me back here—” she cuts herself off. Jayfeather can feel the shudder that wracks her body. “By bringing me back here, haven’t you doomed us all?”
“You never used to believe the elders’ tales,” Jayfeather accuses.
“Yeah, well,” she laughs. “That’s before I started living them.”
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angsty stuff below cut
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Lesser dad stuff but Rouxls regrets the moments when he was dismissive of Lancer in game
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So. We know that Asriel used to be super sensitive and cries a lot.
And he felt really, really bad for poisoning his dad by accident.
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Can you imagine this child, feeling so terrible for a long time over a well-intentioned accident. And then imagine trauma fucking him up and suddenly his own feelings are dulled and foreign.
His reasoning behind "I'm such an uncaring bastard" was probably like, "I did something bad on purpose, and look, I'm not feeling like shit 24/7! That must make me some hopeless, unrepentant floral scum!"
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surroundedbyconfusion · 3 months
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I am bursting at the seams with excitement and dread. I am joyful but I am damned, like the old greenhouse with the roof caved in under the rain and moss when wind creaks through with a whistling scream.
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enbydragon02 · 1 year
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Tw: depression, self-hatred, complaining
Why do I keep flip-flopping between loving and hating myself. Like yesterday I was alright but today I'm doing awful. And tomorrow could be fine but who knows, and I don't really care right now.
My car decided to not work properly. Don't know yet how I'm getting to and from work tomorrow or how the hell I'm gonna get it seen at the mechanics. Oh the joys of working full time. And did I mention I have a really important doctor's appointment on Tuesday that I've been waiting for for months? And now I probably won't have a car and it's supposed to snow?
I just. I hate it all right now. I'm also so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open.
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cammyluvss · 28 days
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stop liking this you little fuckers
if this gets 20 notes in a week ill start drawing more and going outside
if this gets 100 notes by the end of march i will actually try in school
if this gets 200 notes by the end of march i will eat more, ,,,,,,rn i only eat lunch
if this gets 400 notes by the end of march ill stand up to ppl at school who bully me
if this gets 500 notes by april ill stop cvtting
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edtwtbutnot · 2 years
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can someone give me the most difficult exersice and one that burns the most cals?
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uncanny-tranny · 5 months
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Whenever people who are entrenched in diet culture talk about how terrible chemicals are, I just want to whip out this:
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#diet culture#diet culture tw#described images#image description in alt#'it's got CHEMICALS in it' and so do you! and me too! IT'S ALL CHEMICALS ALL THE WAY DOWN#instead of running from this world we must learn to embrace it#i'm not particularly angry at people who say this because it makes me think that they're incredibly invested in diet culture...#...i just don't want the whole 'food = bad' or 'bodies = bad' to go unchallenged...#...part of the reason why diet culture seems just as prevalent now (if not moreso) is partially because it isn't really...#...challenged or questioned without provocation. it's just assumed to be correct because it makes you 'feel in control'#when chemicals are bad you can control what chemicals you consume. it's individualistic and places the blame onto you for 'being good'#it places responsibility onto the person in such a way that it becomes impossible to fulfill#it isn't that i'm upset that people want to treat their bodies in a way they think is responsible...#...moreso that the *way* they go about it ensures that they're stuck in a cycle of self-blame and even self-hatred#because the METHOD is ineffective. not the desire to treat your body well#also the state of ohio looks stupid and i do Not respect it#it looks like a ball that is simultaneously deflated and over-inflated#also their state flag looks silly to me#it looks like the person who was making it fell asleep making it#i'm just clowning on ohio at this point. have never been to ohio but. are you guys okay
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son-of-pendragon · 2 years
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Pain, is your reward for being near me Fate, won't be your friend when I'm around Blame, me for the tragedies that follow Grave, the situations that surround
I'm a harbinger, I cannot lie I will change the color of your life I don't mean to bring you pain But I will, just why, I can't explain
I am no one's blessing I'll just bring you harm I'm a cursed black cat I'm an albatross
I'm a mirror Broken Sad to say I'm your bad luck charm
Shame, hang my head in constant sorrow Rain, on every day you need the light Strain, to see some fortune in tomorrow Bane, is what I am to every life
Trust one thing, take my advice If you linger close, it's a hefty price
You and I Are not the same You don't want the burden Of my name
I am no one's blessing I'll just bring you harm I'm a cursed black cat I'm an albatross
I'm a mirror Broken Sad to say I'm your bad luck charm
A guaranteed catastrophe
A tear that's bound to fall A sure train wreck And you'll soon regret The day I came to call
I'm cursed black cat I'm an albatross I'm a mirror broken Sad to say
I'm your bad luck charm
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remember-to-be-gentle · 3 months
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Inspired by this tumblr post by @hawnks 
Subject: JJK, Satoru Gojo
Title: Hate Me Tomorrow (Omega!Gojo x GN Alpha!Reader)
Trigger Warning: Dub con, omega verse, scenting, size difference, biting/marking, obsessive/toxic behavior, self-hatred, knotting, knot riding, begging, heat/mating cycles, grinding 
The sweet, musky scent of Gojo's cologne and sweat enveloped you. Even the giant stuffed beta fish you were snuggling had no scent but his. His pillow fort was surprisingly spacious, granted, Gojo was nearly twice your size so there was a lot of him to fit. But being in here with him was nearly suffocating, and not just because of the light whiffs of omega scent rolling off of him or because he'd practically ripped off your jacket to snuggle into. 
He'd called you suddenly, saying that he needed to spend time with someone. It made sense. Geto just died and there were only so many people who were willing to pick up the phone for Gojo, and even fewer he'd actually call. Especially when it was a secret he was an omega, pretending to be an alpha and you were an alpha pretending to be a beta. 
The two of you were decent friends, hanging out after teaching at Jujutsu Tech for a drink or a quick round of gossip. He was one of the few people who knew you were an alpha and he an omega, an unusual kinship formed but it was never anything more. More importantly, you knew about his relationship with Geto. You couldn't say no. 
Which was why your thigh was snug against his, smartphone balanced on your knee, his favorite plushie shoved into your arms. His head on your shoulder breathes fast but not uneven. It seemed like he was trying not to cry. Poor guy. The winter fashion review didn't seem to be helping him calm down at all. Nor any work gossip. You wanted to stay and help, but it was getting late. If he really wanted to, he could just pin you down, sometimes that thought scared you.
Gojo curled onto his side, struggling closer to you, your jacket wrapped in his hands like a security blanket. 
It felt wrong to leave, but you needed to take care of yourself, too. "Hey, bud, I need to get going. Are you going to be alright by yourself?" 
Gojo buried his face in your neck, silent. He leaned his weight into you, just enough to make it clear he didn't want to be alone. 
Fuck. "I'm sorry. I'll come first thing tomorrow. We'll call out from work and go to the city or--" 
His teeth scraped your neck. Possessive, dominant. Alpha behavior. Before you knew what was happening, he was ripping off your scent suppressor, inhaling like he hadn't been breathing for hours. Alpha pheromones leaked from your skin, invading your nose. "Gojo?" 
Your stomach turned as your instincts awakened, the need to comfort an omega struggling with your own needs for autonomy. Your fingers dug into the beta fish plushie, filled with his scent. 
He reached for his own scent blocker and you suddenly realized what was going on. With his neck practically right under your nose, his omega scent was free. And not just that, he was going into heat. The pillow fort was a nest and this was a trap. Gojo was primed to breed and he was going to use you to fuck away his pain. "This isn't healthy, Gojo, listen to me!" 
But his patch was already off and the omega scent of him in your lungs, filling you, lighting every nerve on fire. Your cock swelled under your clothes, reacting to his breedable scent with vigor. 
Gently, Gojo took the plush and pushed you onto your back, yanking off his pants as his pale face filled with color. His bandages were already slipping, the iridescent shine of his six eyes laser-focused on the swelling at your crotch. He crawled on top of you, already tugging off his shirt. "Just for today, please." He panted, his thin but muscular chest heaving as if just sitting here breathing was a near-impossible task. 
His weight lowered onto your cock and you gasped, feeling his wetness through your clothes. His heat was so pleasant, feverish but warm, empty, and yearning. Blood pulsed lower and you gulped. 
Slowly, Gojo rocked back and forth, moaning loudly each time your shaft met his clit. His back arched, nipples swollen and pink, and standing at attention. "Please," he begged. "Just me just for tonight. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please, ah, Y/N. Please, I wanna cum. Let me have it inside me." 
It was getting harder and harder to think straight. He felt so good, the need to fill him up, let him fuck himself stupid on your cock growing. It would be better if you let him, a voice whispered. Another said, it's what you were made for. Just let him. 
"Gojo," you gasped. You reached for him, tried to make him stop so you could think, but his fingers intertwined with yours and he was moving faster now, his breathy moans coming faster. His skin was so soft and warm, filling you with his heat until you thought you might burst. Blood pulsed in your cock, his pussy was sucking at you through your clothing. He wanted you so badly. You wanted... What did you want to do again? You had to leave but why? 
"Y/N, I'm cumming." His hips rocked faster, tummy rolling with downy white hair covered in sparkling slick. "I'm cumming on your alpha cock." He let go of your hands to lay across your stomach, his head buried in your neck to take in your scent, his own making your head spin as pleasure threatened to burst out of your cock. His teeth met your skin, nibbling and biting gently then hard enough to bruise until he let out a long, throaty groan as he came. 
Instantly, your clothes were soaked, his hot slick smothered on your member. If you weren't fully erect before, you were now. 
Still panting, Gojo lifted himself up just enough to tug your cock free from your clothing. He didn't wait, spreading his pussy with his fingers as he sank down on your tip. Slick gushed down your shaft as he cried out, swallowing your swollen head into his heat. You bit back a groan, fingers digging into the blankets making up the fort. 
"You feel so big," Gojo moaned. "So good. I've only done this with Geto, so I'm going to have to start slow." He sank a little further, impossibly tight and hot and wet. "Feels so good," he huffed, rolling his hips and finally, sinking all the way down your shaft.
Your knot throbbed, seeming to sense that an omega was speared on your length. 
Gojo humped himself on your cock, needy moans slipping from his mouth each time his hips met yours. "Feels so good, Y/N. I've only felt Geto like this before." 
Before you could respond he pulled back to his full height, six eyes glowing in the warm darkness of the pillow fort. He spread his lower lips as he lifted himself up, clear slick drooling from his hole. His pretty, pink, clit a shining pearl at the apex of his thighs. "You did this to me. Look how wet you made me." Slowly, Gojo slid back down, pushing the head of your cock against his cervix. Again, he kept himself exposed and rose up, only to slurp your length right back down to the knot, aiming this time higher, into something spongy and mouth-wateringly soft.
"G-Gojo, I know you miss him but you can't--" 
He raised himself up and dropped down, knocking a groan from you both. "I think about him a lot," Gojo panted. "About how empty he left me. In my soul. In my body. So please, let me fix one of those. Just for now. It's okay if you hate me, but I need you now more than I've needed anyone." 
Gojo whined, flushed and excited. "Right there." He slammed back down on you with a stomach-churning squelch right into that soft sweet spot. "So good." He was riding you now, using you like a dildo to get himself off, his delicate fingers rolling his clit in circles. You couldn't take your eyes off him. "I want you to cum inside me, okay? Fill me up with your seed. Help me feel less empty." 
Pleasure gathered deep inside you, begging to come out as your knot swelled. Shit. You shouldn't. He was your coworker, your friend. But omegas needed alpha seed, he needed reprieve from his heat and you were the only one he could call--because the person he really wanted was dead. 
That thought shattered your high, grounding you back in the moment. "Gojo, I know you're still mourning Geto, but this isn't healthy for you." 
Gojo settled on your stomach, chest heaving. His hands snuck under your shirt, impossibly soft and warm in your skin. Your cock twitched inside him, wanting him to squeeze and milk you dry but that wasn't what a good friend would let him do. 
"I killed him, you know." His hands curled into fists by your hips. "He left me after taking my virginity and when he came back, I killed him on Christmas Eve because he didn't give me another choice. I'm awful, aren't I? Shoko hates me. She won't say it but I know she does. I hate me, too." The blue of his eyes shone as tears gathered, threatening to fall down his red flushed cheeks. 
"Shoko doesn't hate you." You said soothingly. You sat up, so much smaller than him, and ran your hands through his hair. "It was an impossible situation, we all think you did the right thing. We--" 
He didn't let you finish your thought. Gojo grabbed you by your shirt and slammed his mouth onto yours, his tongue filling you as if he could make you swallow every hateful thing he'd ever thought about himself. "If you don't hate me," he breathed against your lips, his spit wet and warm as it dribbled down your chin, "then cum inside me." He rolled his hips, reigniting the electric pleasure in your core. "Please. You can hate me tomorrow, but right now, I can't let you go." 
The pulsing softness of his pussy contracted, squeezing you so tightly you thought you might burst. You gasped for breath when Gojo released you and then did it again. You wanted to move. You wanted to stop. You wanted... 
Gojo pulled down the front of your shirt, rolling his hips roughly, chasing his end against your cock. He bit your chest, hard enough to bruise, marking you like an alpha. And that was enough to come undone. 
You exploded inside of him, eyes rolling back as your core emptied against his sweet spot. Your hips rolled up into his and you shivered as you felt your knot pop into his pussy, slick sliding down your thighs and onto the blankets. 
You struggled to breathe as Gojo laid himself on top of you, breathing fast. He rocked his hips against your knot, already trying to drag another orgasm out of himself. His arms slid under your back, pulling your chest to his. "You're all I have now, Y/N," he whispered, "so please, don't leave.”
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ssstrawberryflowers · 5 months
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O Machine!
How have I longed for love, from the fire of the Sun to the hands of a false lover, from the stars and the bright Moonlight to my own lustful touch...
huge fan of the whole "Gabriel worships V1 as a deity" ship dynamic so uh yeah finally made something with it (albeit a sketch only)
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Amazing.
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nerdpoe · 6 months
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In the Shadow of Speculation Part 3
Part 1, Part 2, Ao3
The chapter TW blood tw broken bones tw description of a flashback abled verbiage tw self hatred tw (mild) forced parenthood equivalent (but in a ghost culture way.)
Ellie peeked at her older brother from behind her physics textbook.
Danny was surrounded by notes, a treatise on ancient magic’s uses in modern medicine spread out in front of him. He’d been studying it longer than she had, and showed no signs of stopping.
Frostbite had not only been delighted to teach Danny medicine, but he’d taken it so seriously that apparently, her older brother had involuntarily signed up for basically ghost college.
Ellie felt a thrill at being able to share the experience with him.
She knew it had bugged him, to miss out on going to college at the same time as his friends.
But!
She was now going to college at the same time as Danny! So it was up to her and whoever she chose to share the college experience with him!
She’d drag Danny to all the keggers! She just…had to find them first. The one’s without drugs, or the ending with a shoot-out thing.
“Ellie,” Danny interrupted her thoughts, and she realized she’d been staring directly into his eyes for a bit, “How about we take a break? I found a recipe for those cranberry-almond bread crisps things you like from Costco.”
Ellie felt her jaw drop.
There was a recipe for that?
Before she could pull herself together enough to answer, Danny was already laughing and standing up.
“It’s the first batch I’ve ever made, but you seem to like them enough to tell me if I did it wrong.”
Ellie quite literally tripped over her own feet following him to the kitchen, only to stare reverently at the tupperware he presented to her.
Then she dug in, of course, because her job was to taste test and she took that job very seriously.
The score was: perfect.
They weren’t exactly the same, but they were homemade, which made them better automatically.
Ellie sat on the counter and enjoyed her snack as Danny puttered around the kitchen, making actual lunch.
His big brother instincts hit hard when they hit, and it looked like Ellie was going to have some leftovers going home with her. Danny tended to…overcompensate.
Which was stupid, because his ages didn’t change him being her bro.
“…You know you’re my brother no matter what, right?” Ellie asked between mouthfuls of baked goods, “Like, I don’t care what age you are or what form you’re in; you’re my brother.”
Danny slowed down.
Then he started for the flour.
Ah, fuck. He was going to bake away his feelings again.
“Danny wait, please, I only have so much room in my pantry and fridge-“
~~~~~~
Alfred paused in front of the hallway mirror.
Mask firmly in place? Check. Amulet against scrying? Check. Special jacket meant to act as a talisman against offensive magic? Check.
He was as ready as he would ever be to enter the same room as the Justice League Dark.
The butler pushed the trolley into the elevator and began his descent.
He had to admit to himself, he was…curious. Normally, Master Bruce did not allow the Justice League Dark into the Cave.
It wasn’t his place, he knew that, but something quite serious must have happened for them to be allowed so close to Master Bruce’s home.
In fact, his employer hadn’t even had time to specify if it was the entire Justice League Dark or just a few people from it. Master Bruce had just dropped everything-quite literally-and made for the Cave.
The elevator made a soft chime as it reached it’s destination, and the door opened.
Alfred pushed out the trolley, completely silent.
It was meant for the cave; cushioned wheels, rubber padding to absorb the little bumps.
Which meant that Constantine had absolutely no idea Alfred was standing behind him, waiting for him to stop talking so he could offer refreshments.
“Bats, you don’t bloody understand; our entire dimension was nearly wiped out!”
“I would love to understand. You won’t explain. A text message saying the world was about to end was not explaining, it was fear-mongering. This entire conversation could have been an email.”
Constantine threw his hands up.
“Phantom was holdin’ the Infinite Realms back! An entire dimension, Batman! It’s denizens are built for combat, and if Phantom decides to turn from small-time villain theft to Actual World Ending events, that’s it! End game! Is that email material for you?”
Master Bruce grunted.
“Five years ago, mate, five bleedin’ years ago your government nearly buggered all of us. So yeah, alright, allow me to explain; how did this slip by you? You? The great Detective?”
“We were unaware-“
“Mate I cannot begin to explain how little that matters to spirits and demons strong enough to be gods.”
“Constantine, we are taking measures to ensure this does not happen again.”
“We need to do more than that, Bats; I’m sayin’ we need to…to do something to get their trust! Get on Phantom’s good side, turn ‘em to the side of good, whatever it-“
“Phantom is on the Justice League Roster, Constantine. He’s on the list of potential allies in emergencies, and we have already established a good relationship with him. He’s not actually a villain, he’s a trainer for young heroes. You would know this if you kept up with that list.”
The ‘like you’re supposed to’ went unsaid.
Constantine opened his mouth. Closed it. Pulled out his phone and frantically pulled something up.
Dropped the phone.
Stood there staring at his own hand as he processed what he realized everyone had known but him.
Alfred took advantage of his distraction to place a cup of tea into the man’s hand.
“Perhaps you should sit down, sir,” the Butler suggested.
Constantine drank the entire cup of tea in one go and sat on the floor.
~~~~~~
Dan crossed his arms and stood his ground, careful to keep his face blank as he stared at Danny.
“You know you can’t do this in human form,” Dan sighed, “So the costume needs to be for the ghost one.”
“I think I can do great in human form-“
“It’s not healthy to keep your other state of being locked away, Runt. Plus, it’ll make it a hell of a lot harder to pinpoint who you are.”
“…I don’t want to.”
Dan felt steam hiss out of his nostrils, and tried to reign in his temper.
Ellie stepped in while he calmed down.
“C’mon, Danny! Please? Please, please, please? It’s super cute c’mon!”
Danny’s face turned red as he tried to deny that, covering his face as he sank down on the couch.
Dan carefully did not mention that Ellie was…kinda right. Dan was possibly biased due to fucked up ghost instinct, though.
“Danny,” Dan said quietly, “Robin was thirteen when I squared off against him, and he was really the only threat out of all those kid heroes. It’s fine; no one will bat an eye.”
This was important. The little Twerp would get more to feed his obsession if he was in ghost form while he did it, and it would give him time to actually be in his other form.
Both things he’d been trying to avoid.
But Dan was, as usual, willing to be the Bad Guy for Little Him.
Danny’s face grew redder.
The kid sighed.
A flash of light filled the room.
And a twelve year old looking ghost kid in a hospital shift sat in his place. The prosthetic, meant for an adult man, flopped to the side, unable to stay on the leg far too small for it.
Ellie made a soft, cooing trill and started patting at his hair.
Dan bravely held his own chirp in.
Danny, for his part, glared at his hands.
“Alright kid, let’s get you suited up,” Dan said after composing himself, instinct screaming at him to coddle the Twerp.
He wouldn’t do that, naturally.
It wasn’t like Danny was actually his kid, and neither of them would know how to recover from a lapse like that.
He turned away from the pouting kid on the cough and went into said kids bedroom instead, finding the prosthetic for his ghost form hidden in the back of his closet.
Dan frowned.
Hidden away like it was, that shit was indicating Little him hadn’t even tried to transform since he’d gotten to Gotham.
That…was so unhealthy. It was probably going to set back his recovery if he kept it up.
He’d have to ask Red Hood to keep tabs on how often the new Medic-hero went out, so he’d be able to chart how often he was transforming.
He knew the kid had issues with…well, all of it. His time as a core had reversed his age, and he’d only stopped regressing a year after Dan had left him with Frostbite. As far as Danny knew, he’d fallen unconscious a sixteen year old and woken up as a ten year old.
His mortal body had continued to age, chained by the constraints of the Timeline. So when he did transform, he was going from one form to a drastically different one.
Dan knew that the changes were probably extremely uncomfortable.
Dan also knew that he’d pushed far enough that night, convincing Tiny to transform against his will.
So he opted to say nothing about it to Danny, instead focusing on attaching the tiny prosthetic to the tiny leg.
“Decided to go apocalyptic style,” Dan hummed, testing the edges to ensure it was aligned properly, “Modified gas mask, only on the lower face, goggles optional, basic kevlar, medical satchel from the Far Frozen, all black, no identifiers.”
“Yeah, about that; are you sure you don’t wanna put like, a red cross or something?” Ellie cut in, her patting stopping as she leaned over their tiniest sibling.
Danny shook his head, a pout that Dan pretended not to notice on his face.
“No; identifiers work both ways, villains would be more likely to target me.” 
“Smart; keep them off your back long enough to move people out of the way. And what’s the plan if you get dragged into a fight?” Dan asked mildly, leaning back and looking up into a face that was far too young.
“End it.” Danny’s face was far too young to look that serious and dead-eyed, and Dan’s core lurched at letting a weak and injured ghostling free to enter into fights already.
“Not in a way that’ll hurt you, though,” Ellie sang as she danced towards the kitchen to raid Danny’s fridge.
The serious look faded, and Dan’s core eased a little.
“Don’t worry, I’ll dip as soon as I can.”
Dan nodded and stood up, reaching down to help the kid up.
“Well, get the fuck out of your own house then. Time to get to work.”
Danny gave him a shit-eating grin and tugged the gas mask into place, already fading from view.
~~~~~~
Danny floated down the streets of Crime Alley, not even bothering to hide himself with invisibility.
He’d already performed triage on bystanders in a gang fight, set a muggers broken leg and ensured he knew the physical therapy he’d need to prevent it from becoming a chronic issue, and had gone over pretty much every homeless kid checking for lice or sickness, and treating it as he saw signs of either.
He was loathe to admit it, but Dan had been right. Doing acts of ‘protection’ while in ghost form fed his core far more than doing it in human form.
It was just.
He just.
His hands were too small.
His voice was too high.
He was too vulnerable.
The shadows were too big, too dark, and he hated it when they turned off the lights, he could never see what they’d done to him this time-
“Hey, new supes-you’s a medic, right?”
Danny blinked, and he was standing on a sidewalk in Crime Alley while a concerned Prostitute stared down at him.
He shook himself.
“Yea, do you need treatment?” Danny winced a bit as his voice cracked, and he clutched at his bag a little tighter.
Her eyes bored into his own as she searched for something, before her expression got softer.
“Me’n some of th’ girls were boutta turn in, but Joanne had some rough Johns t’night. Need some bones set and some stitches. You game?”
Danny tilted his head, assessing her.
She was not lying.
He allowed his body to deny gravity and floated up, nodding.
The woman led him to one of the better hotels in Crime Alley, and Danny caught a glimpse of a rather large man shouting at some other men.
From the pieces of conversation he could gather, that man was Joanne’s pimp, and he was ultra-pissed that she’d been hurt.
The woman in front of him gave a short whistle, and when the man’s head turned towards her she held a finger to her lips.
Her other hand made some sort of subtle gesture, but it wasn’t ASL and Danny had no idea what it could have meant.
It must have meant some variation of ‘calm down’, though, as the man stopped yelling, and even went so far as to keep a respectful distance from Danny as he was tugged past older man.
The yelling didn’t start up again until the door to the hotel closed behind him.
Then Danny was taken to Joanne, and…she could probably do with a hospital instead of some kid hero.
Multiple lacerations, visibly broken arm and fingers-it wasn’t pretty. But Danny had seen worse.
His right hand made an involuntary fist before he stretched out his fingers.
“She ain’t comf’table with hospitals,” Danny’s guide explained quietly, “If we don’ treat her here, she’ll jus’ treat it herself at home, an’ we all know that won’t end well.”
Danny let out a small breath through his nose and stepped forward.
“Hello, I’m just a medic, but what are you okay with me treating tonight?”
~~~~~~
There was a new hero in the Alley.
Well, sort of.
The kid was clearly a Meta of some sort, but he was only focused on medical treatment.
Jason was also pretty sure he wasn’t a Super.
He’d know that glowing white hair anywhere, and the kids blue-ish complexion and pointy ears?
Nah, this was clearly Phantom’s kid.
Shortstack was older than he’d thought he would be, but Jason wasn’t an ectobiology expert; he had no idea how Infinite Realms Beings worked.
But this one wasn’t Phantom, that much he was sure of.
He felt the temperature drop, just enough to be unnatural.
“Your kids doin’ good work.”
Phantom hummed in agreement, slowly filtering into the visible spectrum beside Jason.
“Why Gotham, though?”
Phantom tensed.
Jason waited.
He was patient like that.
“The kid’s…sick. He can’t fight like I can, not yet.”
Jason couldn’t help but feel relief at that admission, if he was being honest with himself.
“But he’s a protection spirit. He has to protect, or he’ll do the ghost equivalent of starve.”
“Okay, alright; so have him help people and protect them as something that wouldn’t draw too much negative attention.” Jason nodded, starting to see the full picture.
“Yeah, and Gotham’s got uh…good ghost juice. For ghosts. You wouldn’t really get it, it’s a ghost thing.”
Jason turned to face the intimidating War Machine of an anti-hero, only to find the man wearing a perfectly serious expression.
He’d really just let that abomination of words tumble out of his mouth with a completely straight face.
“Fine, I get what you’re really here for. We’ll watch out for him.”
“Bats might have an issue.”
“Fuck Batman, a medic is a good idea.”
“No, I was saying if he had an issue that you should point him to me.”
Jason let out a wordless hum, watching the tiny head of glowing white hair bobbing on the streets below them.
“You think you could win against the Bat?” 
“In my previous world I not only won against him, but I murdered his friends and family. Yes, I can win against the Bat.” Phantom drawled, truth in every word he said.
Truth, and regret.
“Damn, threat received loud and clear. I’ll tell Batman where he can take his complaints, then.”
They tailed the kid for a bit, and Jason watched as Heather broke the kid out of a flashback on her way to Leslie's.
Heather, smart woman she was, recognized what was happening and did what Heather was prone to do; take immediate steps to help someone in need.
She distracted the kid.
Flashed the sign for ‘inside voices’ at Cody to make him shut up, and got the kid off the streets and away from those who would have taken advantage of Phantom’s protege’s lapse in concentration.
Phantom was a tense livewire next to him, energy shimmering at his fingertips.
“He started out in Crime Alley, Phantom, and we watch out for our own. He’ll be safer here than he would in Bristol.”
Phantom forced himself to nod, and with a deep, shaking breath the energy dissipated.
“…I guess I’ll just have to leave him to it, then.”
Jason watched the man turn away and leave stiffly, and found himself wishing Bruce had enough trust to do the same for his own children.
Then he shoved the thought from his mind and turned his attention back to the hotel; he had a toddler ghost to babysit.
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autistic-af · 11 months
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I wanted to share something important to me. It has nothing to do with autism. Anyone can (sadly) experience this.
I was fat for most of my life. At age 9 I gained 18kg (40lbs) and that seemed to be that. Now because of my weight and also my autism, I was severely bullied. I was made lesser than other humans. And by the time I was a teenager, I hated myself.
I would call myself names, believed I deserved the bad things that happened to me because I was fat and therefore ugly. I believed dumb things like I could go anywhere because no one would want to assault a fat girl. I knew I'd die alone. Because of my weight.
At the age of 18, I was standing in line to buy a shirt. At this point I was approximately 253lbs (115kg). A woman stepped up behind me with her daughter and said "just wait behind this lady." And I felt weak because she knew I was a woman.
This is how bad the self-hatred had become. My weight had stripped me of my gender by the point. I was not a cis female. I was just fat. That was my identity. To hear someone acknowledge me like that made me want to cry with happiness.
Fast forward 20+ years and I've lost all that weight. I went from 250lb+ to 150lbs (110kg+ to 68kg). And I still hate myself.
I don't see a skinny person. I was not magically healed of the damage by my weight loss. And I'm not talking about the problems that come with all the excess skin and stretch marks. I'm talking about 35+ years of being told I am not a human because I don't fit someone else's standards.
That doesn't go away just because someone loses weight. It's almost as if degrading people harms them, isn't it?
So, with all the talk and shouting that happens towards fat people because "I'm concerned for your health"... maybe be concerned about treating them like human beings first.
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creativename87 · 2 months
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orv spoilers!!!
ok guys. guys. why aren't we spending every single fucking moment of our lives talking about the oldest dream & kim dokja scene?? like hello??? i'm not even talking about when kdj tries to stab himself no no i'm talking about the few, small moment leading up to that, when it's just them, staring at each other.
it's such an gut wrenching powerful scene in my opinion. like like like oh my god. so much has happened. and yet, and yet to them it's still about the same webnovel. kim dokja has aged thirteen years since he was this kid, but as he steps forward they still are both just kim dokja.
They both remember the cold rush of air when they leapt from their school balcony. They both remember the breathless laugh before they did it. They probably both remember the way it reminded them of when they were five, getting thrown into the air by their mother, her face not yet wrinkled with regret. They remember the way it burned as they hit the cold pavement and as blood seeped into the concrete. the way that whole thing was nothing more than a reminder that this time there was no one left to catch them.
They remember the flashes of cameras and they both remember typing three tiny words into the hospital computer.
They are both kim dokja: One is just the past and the other is the future.
They stare at each other when by all definitions they shouldn't be allowed to exist close to other. Kim Dokja hates him, he hates himself and he hates his past. and the oldest dream wishes he were him he wishes he could be someone stronger ,someone better, and that's why our kim dokja exists. They are trapped in this circle of resentment and remorse.
His companions stare, registering the scene in front of them. what this means. and it's this heartbreaking sort of realization that the god they came here to fight is not just a child, but the past of their leader. this world that has bruised them and hurt them and killed those they loved, was caused by one of the ones they loved.
And then the oldest dream( he's just a fifteen-year-old kid. he doesn't even have a drivers license yet. he doesn't know anything in this world except for pain and the rush of joy that comes with another chapter) opens his mouth. He stares at his future. A future he has created for himself. and he whispers, in a slow voice, his face twisting
"M-monster…"
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