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odinsblog · 7 months

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TERFs dni

“Mutual abuse” does not exist. Dynamics of abuse are fundamentally about a power imbalance in which the abuser consistently uses harm to gain and maintain power and control over their victim. It does not become “mutual abuse” when the victim responds with violence or harm.

I’ve seen that many of y’all are capable of understanding that a cop hitting a protestor is different from a protestor hitting a cop because there is a massive power dynamic that makes a cop able to act with impunity and places immense restrictions on the protestor.

I’ve also seen folks recognize that using harm to take maintain that power and reacting to harm inflicted on you with violence have a distinctly different moral weight/impact.

But you see that same shit play out in an abusive relationship and throw your analysis out the window.

The question to ask is not what individual actions everyone involved has done, it’s a question of where the power is. You cannot understand abuse and how it functions unless you start asking where the actual power is and until you learn how to see it.

Since some of y’all are clearly struggling with this I’m gonna help you out: the term “toxic relationship” exists for a reason. There are plenty of relationships in which the people are just shitty to each other. Not all bad relationships are abusive ones. Abuse is about POWER.

^^ that said: don’t assume that from an outsider’s perspective that you have the ability correctly and consistently determine that a relationship is toxic rather than abusive. Because folks defaulting to saying harm in a relationship is “just toxic” similarly silences many survivors. (source)

“Mutual abuse” is the adult version of a principal telling a kid defending themselves from a schoolyard bully, “Well, it’s really the second punch that starts the fight.” Utter bullshit. This false equivalence messaging sides with the oppressor, and tells weaker or oppressed people turn the other cheek and not to defend themselves. Unsurprisingly, this “both sides are equally guilty” narrative is most often trotted out in defense of white men, especially in cases of domestic abuse.

It reminds me of when I used to hear the old phrase, “Well, everyone’s a little bit racist” that was used to equate the justified rage of Black oppression with white supremacy. Again, the problem with this argument was denying the POWER imbalance. Black people absolutely can express prejudice against white people, but because it is white people who control the criminal justice system, Hollywood, social media platforms, banks and lending institutions, the education system, etc., the collective “prejudices” of Black people will never be the equivalent of white racism and anti-Blackness. If every Black person in America got pissed off at white people on next Tuesday, not one damn thing would change for white Americans. You wouldn’t see more white people missing out on job promotions, you wouldn’t see more white people getting stopped and frisked by the police, and you wouldn’t see more whites getting denied home loans or entrance into elite colleges. Nothing would change for them because they control all of those institutions.

It’s not precisely the same thing, but in both cases, dismissing or ignoring the POWER imbalance is exactly the same.

#amber heard #johnny depp #mutual abuse #false equivalencies #dv #domestic violence #darvo depp #darvo #power imbalances

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blorbocedes · 2 years

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AITA - I used to escort and my big boss's big boss is my client. He touched my thigh and I'm keeping quiet about it. Am I the asshole if I didn't report it just to keep the peace? What if he does it to someone else? - Max posting on reddit, probably

Max is called to HR but instead of HR, the chair swivels to just Daniel and his big grin. "Kind of a rookie mistake to post it on company internet. Cute that you can't stop thinking about it but you diiiid sign an entrant clause that states you can't slander the company, even anonymously, soooo...."

And Max is like fuck. Cause this is grounds for termination. (World's most unethical aerospace engineering company, I guess. RicciardoTesla?)

He's asked to place his phone, and delete the post. Of his own volition, of course.

And then Daniel goes to stand behind him, peeking over his shoulder and standing way too close, blowing into his ear. "Technically, I'm your boss' boss' boss' boss, name's on the building, baby. Sweet you were jealous I'd do it to someone else, but it's just you, Maxy." And then pats his ass again, for good measure.

If they're in the HR Dept's office and this is happening:.. Max grits his teeth, closes his eyes, and deletes the post.

Daniel backs off, "My office is always open, we wanna foster an open, engaging space. Don't even think of me as your boss, really." And winks at Max before stepping out.

#worlds biggest sleazebag #dirtbag daniel #oof coke daddy finance bro dan #max can't just quit cause he'd be blacklisted from the whole industry... like internationally... and he worked Hard for this job #it could change his life #my fics #not good very bad unethical bosses #one sided maxiel #dubcon #power imbalances #blorbocedes ask

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reasondetredancekathleenrea · 1 year

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My Entire Body Shook: Experiences of a Woman Leading a CI Dance Jam

TRIGGER WARNING: refers to physical aggression and sexual violence towards women contact improvisation leader. This post is from a woman CI Jam facilitator who has chosen to remain anonymous. I run a jam. And I have run this jam for a long time. There have been many moments of joy and satisfaction and support from my community, but what follows is also part of my story. These incidents are in…

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#Contact Improv #Contact Improvisation #Leadership #Me Too #Power imbalances #Social Dance #woman&039;s story

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lokiinmediasideblog · 19 days

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what are your favorite loki ships besides valki?

I had been working on a similar post that I left on drafts, so:

Valki. I came out of the movie theater shipping them because of their fight scenes, and that they're very good foils to each other. They're antiheroes that had to do awful things to survive with a bunch of trauma. Why did the Russos have to kill my ship in such a fucked up way? D: I was DEVASTATED and have still not recovered! I'm so fucking salty over this! I've never been so salty about a ship since Zutara not being cannon!

Frostshield (I feel like this is surprising knowing me and the fact that I've only watched the first CA movie. I love Lise's "Remember This Cold" fic series; it's so good I started shipping this). Probably one of my favorite Avengers to ship Loki with. I think they both know what it's like to be perceived as weak and feel alone, but they're so different at the same time.

Nebuloki. They have so much in common! Even Karen Gillan said she would pair her character with Loki. They might have met in Sanctuary.

Frostmaster. This ship is very good for Loki whump material and I love to put Loki through the wringer (Lise's dark fics, anyone?). The GM has God-like abilities and is a convenient obstacle/torturer for that reason. And the aspect of having to pretend to enjoy torture and all the mind games is good shit.

Frosthawk. It has Dracula/Renfield vibes. Fucked up and angsty. And I will find it funny when the thrall is like "Bitch, go to sleep. Eat something!" to his master who sucks at taking care of himself. I don't really care for Clint, but this ship is good for angst and fucked up mind control dynamics, and the occassional take where the thrall is like "Bitch, have you eaten?" to his distressed Master that sucks at taking care of himself. Reminds me of that post where someone was like "Loki forced his thralls unknowingly into caring for him rather than pure obedience."

Funnily enough I've only written Lokius and Sylki so far Out of spite because there were too many domestic fluffy human AUs for those.

#power imbalances #mind control #valki #nebuloki #frostmaster #frosthawk #anon asks #ships #my top 5 ships

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omegaphilosophia · 3 months

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The Philosophy of Respect

The philosophy of respect delves into the ethical and moral considerations associated with the concept of respect. Respect, in this context, is often regarded as an attitude of consideration and acknowledgment of the intrinsic worth and dignity of individuals, groups, or entities. Here are key aspects of the philosophy of respect:

Inherent Dignity:

Respect in philosophy often begins with the idea that all individuals possess inherent dignity by virtue of being human. This dignity is not contingent on external factors but is an inherent quality.

Autonomy and Individuality:

Respecting individuals involves recognizing and valuing their autonomy — the capacity for self-governance and the ability to make choices. Each person is seen as a unique individual deserving of consideration.

Rights and Responsibilities:

The philosophy of respect often intersects with discussions on human rights. Respecting others is linked to recognizing and upholding their rights. It also involves acknowledging one's responsibilities to refrain from violating the rights of others.

Equality and Fairness:

Respect is associated with the principles of equality and fairness. Treating individuals with respect means doing so impartially, regardless of factors such as race, gender, or social status.

Cultural Sensitivity:

In a globalized world, the philosophy of respect extends to an appreciation of cultural diversity. Respecting others includes understanding and appreciating different cultural norms, practices, and perspectives.

Empathy and Compassion:

Empathy, understanding, and compassion are integral to the philosophy of respect. Respecting others involves recognizing their feelings, experiences, and perspectives with empathy and compassion.

Relational Ethics:

Some philosophical approaches, such as care ethics, emphasize the importance of relationships. Respecting others is not only an individual act but is embedded in the context of relationships and interconnectedness.

Reciprocity:

The philosophy of respect often involves the principle of reciprocity. Respecting others creates an environment where individuals reciprocate that respect, fostering positive and mutually beneficial relationships.

Critique of Power Imbalances:

Critical perspectives within the philosophy of respect highlight the need to address power imbalances. Respecting others requires challenging and rectifying structures that perpetuate inequality and discrimination.

Environmental Respect:

In a broader sense, respect extends beyond human interactions to encompass the environment. Philosophies of respect for nature emphasize treating the environment with care and recognizing its intrinsic value.

The philosophy of respect provides a framework for ethical behavior, interpersonal relations, and societal structures. It addresses questions about how individuals and societies should treat each other, considering the principles of justice, equality, and compassion. Different ethical theories contribute to the broader understanding of respect, adding nuance and depth to its philosophical exploration.

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yandere-writer-momo · 9 days

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Yandere Short Stories:

Hell Fire

Yandere Priest x Herbalist Fem Reader

TW: abuse of power, yandere behavior, manipulation, and forced relationship

Pale hands affectionately cupped the soft cheeks of the sleeping maiden that rested on the bed in the dungeon. A bright smile on the young priest’s face as his fingers traced over her soft lips.

“You are finally here…” Aurel voice was as soft as a breeze. His blue eyes gentle and his lips pursed in thought. “You’re finally within my grasp.”

Aurel glanced around to make sure there were no other eyes watching before he crawled into the small bed beside (your name). His lanky arms wrapped around her vulnerable form in a vice like grip. Aurel buried his nose into her hair and deeply inhaled her sweet scent, a moan escaped his lips from how delectable (your name) smelled.

“I wonder if you’ll be happy to see me once you wake up.” Aurel thought aloud as his hands wandered her sleeping form. “We used to be so close when we were kids… we can get married just like we always wanted.”

Aurel brushed a few of his silver strands away from his blue eyes. His cheeks heated up at how beautiful (your name) had grown to be. “I’ve crawled my way to become a Cardinal, but I’m willing to bend the rules for you… so you just have to accept me.”

Aurel buried his face into her shoulders while he clutched her closer to his chest. His tongue clicked when he felt his she thinned out a bit. These heathens haven’t been feeding (your name) properly, have they? He’d punish them once he married her…

Aurel pressed a few stray kisses to her shoulders before he smiled to himself. He had destroyed her reputation as an herbalist by spreading rumors of her being a witch. It was a desperate and cowardly method, but she refused to be with him. What other choice did Aurel have? (Your name) had forced his hand for the last time and now she had the biggest choice to make.

Become his wife or burn at the pyre.

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ai-azura · 1 year

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Addressing Disrespect in Relationships: Proven Interventions for Improving Affected Relationships

Introduction Definition of disrespect in relationships: Disrespect in relationships can take many forms, including verbal abuse, neglect, dishonesty, and boundary violations. It can also include more subtle forms of disrespect, such as rolling one’s eyes, interrupting, or talking down to a partner. Disrespect erodes the foundation of trust and mutual respect that is necessary for a healthy…

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#communication #Couples Therapy #Disrespect #Emotional Intelligence #empathy #Healthy Relationship #Interventions #mindfulness #Power Imbalances #relationships #trauma

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faetreides · 22 days

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summary: paul atreides x plus sized afab servant!reader

cw: power imbalance, somnophilia (dubcon in my mind as the reader wouldn’t push him away if they woke up but feel free to skip this if you could feel icked out by it), petplay (cheated again and didn’t make it explicit but it’s very petplay coded in a way), size difference (paul’s the skinny bf that would fall over if a gust of wind was strong enough), paul eats reader out, crack treated seriously vibes bc he’s so awkward 💀, ambiguous somno occasion (like how the reader fell asleep), implications of improper use of the voice but it’s weak for this paul era so reader could probably push against it, possible dune lore inaccuracies idk don’t think just vibe

wc: 1k +

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

don’t repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

You’re having the same dream again. Paul Atreides, the duke’s son who you are tasked with looking after is the star.

He looms over you as you lie flat on your back, though in your dream you’re never in your servant’s quarters. No, the surrounding walls bear a more striking resemblance to Paul’s bedroom. You’re always groggy in the dream, which is a strange feeling to have when you usually are profoundly awake in your other dreams.

You’ve only been having this one since you arrived on Caladan from a smaller planet with no name that they took ownership of. Paul Atreides had seemed to seek you out like a moth to a flame, making a beeline for you and demanding in front of your mother that his father hire you. Even weirder was the fact that the ships belonging to the Atreides left immediately after you agreed to go with them, as if the trip had only one purpose.

“Shh, mouse, it’s just me. Don’t wake up.” He whispers, nuzzling his nose against yours and pecking your lips.

You lie there in a daze, eyes wide and mouth agape as Paul reaches for the fastenings of your top. It’s an orange silk number he gifted you, all your clothes are. Your breaths come out in shallow pants, the disbelief that Paul Atreides would be disrobing you with the intent to bed you is overwhelming. He gives your plush curves loving squeezes as he reveals more and more skin.

Eventually you’re stark naked under him. You sluggishly try to cover yourself with your hands but Paul swiftly knocks them aside, pinning them to your sides so he can drink in the mouth watering image. You have no idea how many dreams he has had of you, ones concerning moments like these and ones about the life you’ll experience together in between. A gaggle of tiny feet playing tag around his throne, domestic mornings of blissful silence waltzing in the dining room.

“I…. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you, i swear it.” Your heart skips a beat, despite knowing very well that this is all some passing fancy. Dreams never have to see the light of day, so you can luxuriate in your delusions.

Paul leans down to shakily mouth at your collarbone, scraping his teeth against the skin and playing with your love handles. You whimper as he litters your rough skin with love bites, you open your mouth to apologize that it’s not as smooth as a noble consort’s would be, but something in the way he shoves his tongue in your mouth to silence you tells you he somehow already knows.

You poke and pull at his dark shirt, the fine black material feeling like heaven but you’d rather it cover your garments next to the bed.

Paul chuckles, nipping at your lips and pulling back to shirk his clothing off. He throws it across the room and goes back to kissing his way down your thick body. Once he reaches your stomach, he takes extra special care to dote on the rolls of skin, softly kissing and pressing his forehead against them.

“You would be a beautiful bride, you know…”

“Um… thank you, sir.” You squirm, all the attention on someone like you from someone like your employer’s son becoming too real. The Paul Atreides would sooner be lost to the sands of Arrakis than utter those words to you in the waking world, but perhaps your long harbored infatuation has leaked into your subconscious.

He smiles, as if charmed by your shyness. “You’re welcome, mouse.”

His favorite nickname for you, given to you due to your adorable scurrying around to avoid others and shy high pitched squeaks that you use instead of words. (Also because he saw you crouch in a corner and nibble on a piece of bread that you had managed to snag from the table.)

He sits back on his heels to grab your thighs, the skin bulging in between his fingers. He draws you into a slow and sensual kiss as he pushes them apart and sinks into the empty space. You squeak in shock when you feel something stiff press against your wet pussy, but Paul only shushes you in your head and you relax again.

“Mmm~” He hums, flicking his tongue against the seam of your lips and lifting himself to hover over you once more.

He winks before tightening his grip on your thighs and stretching them wide enough for him to slink down and have access to the small hole at their apex.

You jolt when he presses a soft kiss to the top of your mound. You squeak and try to close your thighs around his head but he doesn’t let you, keeping your thighs pinned to the bed and licking a flat stripe up your pussy.

“So sweet, mouse….” Paul grins and repeats the motion a few times. “I could just spread you out over the table whenever I need to eat.”

You moan at the attention, desperately wishing that you could grind against Paul’s mouth but it feels like something more than his grip is holding you back, something about the touch seeming too vivid. You shake the thought away and sink your fingers into his hair, brushing any strays away from his face as he moves to suck on your clit.

He hollows out his cheeks a bit to get better suction on your fat clit. Paul nuzzles his face as deep into you as he can possibly get, the chubby lips of your pussy sandwiching his nose. You wrench your eyes shut as your pleasure builds and builds, but a single thin finger eases into your hole right as you’re about to tumble over the edge. The intrusion isn’t painful so much as it is entirely foreign to you, the second finger goes in much easier.

The combination of eating you out and finger fucking you makes the knot in you stomach blessedly come undone. Paul swallows it all down like there’s no better substance in the grand scheme of the universe.

You hope to have this dream again tomorrow, even at the cost of being able to look Paul Atreides in the eyes.

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digital-domain · 1 month

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Spring Cleaning

Alastor x Reader // word count 3.2k

In which Alastor goes through your closet, and offers a tasteful replacement for the unsavory things he’s destroyed

Tags/warnings: yandere, invasion of privacy, Alastor’s outfit-changing magic fuckery, mention of lingerie, slight suggestiveness

A/N: I’d like to thank Goodwill for providing the clothing item that inspired this fic

There’s someone in your room, and you know exactly who it is, because - well, it’s not like it’s a rare occurrence. It doesn’t happen every time, but often enough that you’ve gotten used to seeing Alastor when you open the door, pacing along your bedroom floor, casually perusing your belongings, or sitting at your desk chair like he’s been waiting for you all day. It’s been happening for so long, now, that you don’t remember exactly when it started. And you certainly don’t know why. You tried asking, once or twice, but you learned quickly that he has a shocking ability to dance around questions that he doesn’t want to answer. All you really know is that he’s taken an interest in you, and that it’s not likely to disappear anytime soon.

Some specific visits do stick out in your memory. On one particularly horrendous occasion, he’d stood directly beside the door when you’d swung it open, hiding himself from view, only for his presence to be revealed when you’d turned to shut it behind you. His head had been tilted to a truly bizarre angle, but he’d straightened himself out while you were still reeling from the shock.

No need to be frightened, my dear. Just a bit of fun…

You got the feeling that the look on your face was exactly the entertainment he was looking for.

Today isn’t like that, thankfully. It’s usually not. You get the impression that he doesn’t want to scare you away (as if you could run away, even if you wanted to), and that that particular visit was a rare sort of indulgence. Your door is already cracked open, and you hear him long before you see him. He’s humming something, but like most of the songs he treasures, it’s far too old for you to recognize.

Not as if he accepts that as an excuse. You’ve started learning some of the titles, just to appease him. And the lyrics. And reading the books that he’s given you, and listening to his odd bits of old-fashioned advice, and accepting his various other gifts. The whiskey was nice, although of course he insisted upon drinking with you, and cut you off at one glass. Apparently, it would have been improper to indulge any further in mixed company. The coffee was better - at least he let you drink that by yourself.

When you swing the door open, he’s half-turned away from you, and doesn’t so much as look in your direction. But what you can see of his broadening smile makes it clear that he’s heard you enter. “Hello, my dear,” he murmurs. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

This is another thing you’ve gotten used to: being made to feel like you’re the guest, in your own bedroom. It drives you insane, but of course, you’ve never addressed it. And you’ve certainly never tried to drive him out before he was ready to leave. This little arrangement you have - truly, you’re not sure what to call it - can be unpleasant, at times, but it’s not unbearable. He never comes late at night, and never shows up when you have company (although how he always seems to know whether you have company, you’re not sure). He doesn’t seem to want anything more than your attention.

It’s acceptable. Tolerable. And if you ever push back, you’re not sure what will happen, so you think it’s better to just leave things as they are. To let him come and go through your life as he pleases.

You’re coming closer than ever to saying something now, though, because this time he’s not just sitting at your desk, or standing idly somewhere in your room. He’s got your closet door open - and he’s rifling through the contents. Clearly, he’s been doing this for some time, because a large portion of your clothes are already lying in a heap on the floor behind him. As you watch, he tears another shirt off its hanger. A black camisole that you’d bought because it reminded you of something you’d worn often in life. A “going out top,” as your old friends had called it. He looks down with something like disgust, and drops it over his shoulder, where it flutters to the top of the pile.

“ Alastor…” You try to keep your tone even. Merely curious, instead of indignant. “What are you doing?” A bit of your anger slips through. It would be stupid to even hope that he didn’t notice.

“No need to be so hostile.” He slips another shirt from your closet and holds it up with both hands. “I’m doing you a favor.” He tugs on the sloped neckline of the delicate blouse in his hands, and a rip appears down the middle. “My mistake, dear.”

Arguing, you think, would be a bad idea. But you really do need him to stop. “I liked that one.”

“ Hmm…well! I didn’t. I’m afraid it was a bit modern for my tastes.” He shakes his head, and turns around, dropping the shirt into the mess of other garments on the floor. He’s made it through a good chunk of your wardrobe - several pairs of pants and jeans, as well as a few accessories you’d grown fond of, are visible within the heap. “I mean no offense, of course. I only wish to help.”

You certainly do take offense, but there’s no point in addressing that directly. “They’re my clothes,” you say instead, very aware that you sound like an idiot.

“Not anymore.” With a flourish of his hand, the pile disappears, leaving the floor bare. As well as your closet…as you carefully approach, you see that there’s almost nothing left inside. “You’ll thank me before long.”

It’s getting very hard to contain yourself now. “I bought those.”

“And I will be happy to provide some more… suitable replacements.” His image flickers in front of you - a moment later, he reappears by your side. It’s not the first time this has happened, either, but it makes you shudder every time. “To be entirely honest…” An odd twist of his neck brings his face directly in front of yours, nose nearly brushing your own. “I should have done this long ago.” He takes you by the shoulder, and guides you across the room to your dresser. “I’m nearly done already. Only a few drawers left to go.”

You stare up at him, hardening your gaze. Doing your best to sound confident, and not terrified of speaking up. “I want them back.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option. What’s done is done.” He turns, and reaches for the handle of a drawer. The small one, in the top corner.

Oh. Your stomach knots as you realize which drawer, exactly, he’s about to open. You can’t, under any circumstances, let him see what’s in there. But your protest is so frantic that it’s barely comprehensible. “That one - don’t… ”

He laughs shortly, as if you’ve said something only mildly amusing. “You’re getting hostile again, my dear. You know I don’t appreciate that.”

In a panic, you blurt out the question that rises to the top of your head. It will distract him for a moment, if nothing else. “Why are you doing this?”

You realize immediately that this was a mistake. Questioning him is always a mistake.

But then again - you would like to know.

He pauses, the corner of his grin twitching upward. Eyes narrowing as his head swivels in your direction. “I’ve taken a liking to you, my dear.” He certainly doesn’t sound as if he likes you at the moment. His voice drips with condescension. “So when you do things, or have things, that I don’t like, I find it rather jarring.” He takes a deep breath. After he exhales, his eyes flash, and he continues in his usual lighthearted tone. “Taking those things away is quite a comfort to me.”

His smile seems a touch more genuine now. Somehow, that makes it more unsettling. So much so that you freeze up for just a second too long.

“Back to business, then.” He lashes out a hand, and yanks the drawer open.

As soon as he peers inside, he goes rigid. You stiffen, as well, but certainly not for the same reason. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the sharp static suddenly buzzing in your ears. “I told you…”

“No, you didn’t .” He dips a single finger into the drawer, and pulls out the garment on top by its strap, dangling it in midair and examining it. It’s black, like the shirt you’d walked in on him tossing earlier - but it’s certainly not designed for going out. Or for anywhere besides your bedroom. He stares at it for some time, until his silence becomes too much to bear.

“You shouldn’t have”-

“My dear.” He laughs softly, more to himself than to you. “I’d really prefer you not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, so fake that it’s painful to your ears, its conceit betrayed by the telltale twitch in his eye. “Now. Do tell me. What could have possessed you, to spend your hard-earned money on something like this ?” He tilts his head, and stares, clearly waiting for a response.

This question has no good answer, but some are worse than others, so you choose your words carefully. “It…I like how it looks?”

“Hm.” If he wasn’t grinning, as always, you’re sure he’d be grimacing instead. “I can’t say I understand.” He sets it down in the drawer for a moment, and carefully tugs off his glove. “Nor do I wish to.”

You watch in a mixture of mortification and horror as he takes hold of your lingerie once again, and snags his nails across the fabric, easily rending it to pieces. He drops the torn fabric carelessly to the floor, kicks it under your dresser, and pointedly wipes his hand on his sleeve before replacing his glove.

“Ah, well. No need to say anything more about it now.” His eyes trail to the remaining contents of the drawer. “I do hope that you’re not quite as fond of the rest.” He drops his hand over the pile, and a moment later, a soft green flame envelops it. For a moment, you panic, sure that your entire dresser is about to burn, but the flame disappears with the last of your lingerie, leaving not so much as a pile of ashes behind.

You peer into the empty drawer, mouth ajar. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.” You’re probably getting into risky territory, but this mixture of embarrassment and irritation is becoming too much to bear.

“Hm?” His eyes are gleaming. There’s something dangerous there, you think, something that you have to tread carefully around. “You didn’t get so worked up over the rest of your closet. Is this different to you?”

“You said you’d replace the rest,” you mutter, judging it to be the safest possible answer. The least likely to cause further embarrassment. “I doubt you’re going to make the same offer with…those.”

“Oh? Who says?” His eyes gleam, in that way they do when he gets an idea that no one around him is going to enjoy. “I’ll admit that I wasn’t planning on it…but those things clearly meant a lot to you. And I enjoy your company far too much to let something so small come between us.”

You think that you’d certainly like something to come between you and him. A wall, perhaps. Or a large metal gate.

“So! If it’s a replacement you want, a replacement you shall have.” He sharply closes the drawer, and kicks at a strip of shredded black fabric that still protrudes from beneath your dresser. “It should be something that can be worn in bed, I suppose. But I prefer to interpret that in a more traditional sense. Something to be worn to sleep.” His head tilts dramatically, and somewhere far above your head, you think you hear a few notes of a slow, lilting song, piped in from many decades ago. “And I believe I have just the thing.” That intractable smile pulls back, just a fraction. “Let’s see what it looks like on you, shall we?”

You open your mouth to protest. But of course, you don’t manage to get a word out before he flicks his hand in your direction.

When you look down, your previous outfit is gone. And in its place…well. Like Alastor said, there’s nothing lurid about it. It’s a slip of sorts, made of thin, silky off-white fabric that falls almost to your knees. Delicate enough that you wouldn’t wear it outside, but modest enough that you don’t feel entirely exposed. It’s something to be worn to bed, indeed. But not by you. There’s nothing you about it. The fabric itself appears brand new, but like all the things Alastor seems to appreciate most, the design clearly comes from long before your time.

You find, suddenly, that you don’t know how to hold yourself. How to act. Your arms hang awkwardly at your sides, feeling heavy as your fingertips skim the silk that surround your thighs.

You realize, after the moment of disorientation had passed, that Alastor is not acting like himself, either. He’s quiet. You were expecting mockery, some ridiculous comment that would make you melt into the ground - but it appears that the results of your transformation have caught him off guard.

There’s a creak on the floorboards to your right. A faint sigh. “I must say, my dear…” Alastor’s voice is softer than you expected, and almost devoid of the static filter that usually coats his words. “It suits you better than I could have imagined.”

You think that you’d prefer taunting to whatever this is.

“I’d go so far as to say you look quite lovely.”

You keep your eyes downcast, not wanting to see his face just yet, and examine the finer details of the garment he’s cast upon you. It has narrow straps, and lace at the neckline, which is high enough to give nothing away. The hem is also lacy, and the cut is straight, not so much defining your curves as endeavoring to erase them as much as possible. Objectively speaking, it is quite pretty. But you’re left with the impression that you’ve strode into someone else’s closet, and departed wearing their clothes.

“Don’t you agree?”

Slowly, hesitantly, you look up. Alastor’s eyes are fixed on you, shining a brighter red than you’ve ever seen. There’s nothing vulgar about the way he’s staring - but he’s not merely amused, either. Instead, he’s looking at you with rapt fascination, in much the way that one would contemplate a particularly exquisite piece of art in a gallery.

“I’m…not sure.” You instinctively cross your arms, almost wishing that you saw a more crude impulse behind his eyes. That, at least, would be easier to understand. Instead, it’s something like appreciation - or pride. More of the latter. If you were merely a piece of art, you’d imagine that this would be how your creator would look at you, upon seeing you on display for the first time.

“No need to hide.” He reaches forward, and touches you lightly on the wrist. It’s enough to send both of your arms falling to your sides. “You couldn’t even if you tried.”

His smile, again, seems entirely too real. There’s nothing threatening about his tone. It’s even, charming. And yet…

He slips behind you, and his hand moves to your waist - a test, you think, to see if you’ll slap it away. “But I don’t think you’re planning on trying, are you?”

“No.” You’re surprised by how quickly the word comes out of your mouth, how breathless. It was an odd question, one that hinted at more than the subject in front of it, and seemed to demand an answer.

His other hand joins the first on your waist, and he turns you around, so quickly that you almost stumble, his palms dancing lightly over your barely covered skin. When you’re facing him, one hand slides up, curling around your jaw and holding tight, keeping your gaze turned up towards his face. And it is a long way up - it’s almost embarrassing how small you are compared to him. He stares down, staying silent for much longer than you’re used to, his breathing just a touch heavier than usual.

His fingers tighten over the silk at your waist, pressing into your skin, a small twitch of his hand pulling the fabric very slightly upwards. It barely moves the hem at all - less than an inch - but somehow leaves you feeling infinitely more exposed. You almost flinch away, but after just a moment, he lets go, all at once. In fact, he practically jerks his hands back, as if he’s only just become aware of what he’s doing, and doesn’t approve. His smile, all of a sudden, appears incredibly fragile.

“Oh…” He laughs softly - it feels forced. “Forgive me, darling. I truly don’t know what came over me.”

You’re not quite sure, either. And as usual, you neither expect nor want an answer.

He steps to your side, leans slightly over you, both hands clasped behind his back. With what seems like some effort, he forces the usual lighthearted tone back into his voice. “You do want to keep it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You’d prefer not to, you think, if this is the sort of reaction it draws out of him. But you can’t very well get rid of it, if he doesn’t want you to. And, you reassure yourself, just because you have it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.

“Good.” Again, overhead - but not so far overhead as last time - that lilting old melody falls into your ears. You have the odd impulse to cover them, but you force yourself to keep your hands at your sides. “It is getting late…I think you might as well keep it on, and get yourself all ready for bed.”

You’d like to push back. But all you can manage is a mute nod.

“Lovely.” He starts to raise his hand, as if to reach out and touch you again, but seems to think better of it. The hand falls, and disappears behind his back once more. “Sleep well, my dear.” Quickly, he turns on his heel, only calling out one final line before slipping out through your door. “You’ll see me again soon.”

You have no doubt that you will.

Alone in your room, you slowly approach the mirror that stands in the corner. Your reflection does not change your initial impression. You don’t look like yourself. You don’t like it. And it’s not like he’ll know if you take it off, change into something more comfortable…

Your eyes fall upon your nearly empty closet, and you remember that you don’t have anything more comfortable. Not anymore.

This is alright, you try to tell yourself. It’s just a piece of clothing.

Just a piece of clothing that you can’t imagine wearing for any other reason, or for anyone else.

Your eyes fall upon the empty drawer in the top corner of your dresser, and trail over to your bed. Quickly, you drop your gaze to the floor. You realize, with a sigh, that it will be a long time before you have any company besides him in this room. In fact, it’s possible that you’ll never open your door for anyone again.

At the moment, doing so would feel far too much like allowing a guest into someone else’s home.

#alastor x reader #yandere alastor #tw yandere #tw power imbalance

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rp-partnerfinder · 8 days

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hello everyone ! i'm on the lookout for a couple of 18+ writers who may be up for writing oc x oc rps within the dark romance genre, which may or may not heavily favour booktok vibes for rp inspiration (ifykyk 🫡). yours truly is an adv.lit–novella writer (this means i'll max out the discord message limits multiple times per reply and i would like that reciprocated to some extent though i will adjust to your general length and shift my lengths according to what the scene needs. though 2 messages is my minimum, and my max is untested as of yet, so bring all the details and pretty prose to me because i'll devour it like the cookie monster 🍽). and to provide some info on me, i'm a twenty+, she/her writer who favours the third person perspective and has a hard-on for writing f characters in mxf, with an additional preference towards writing with other f writers (so mdni) and for everyone else be reassured that my f characters are far from typical, my girls are often dark, twisted and obsessive in their own ways and will send your boys on the ride of a lifetime, scouts honour to that.

i might write a lot, but i do also reply slowly and am a very understanding partner, so an average of 1 reply per week is very brilliant per my standards and all i'll truly require is for the space between replies to be bridged with ooc planning and sharing of headcanons, plot dev, using tuppers for small text ideas, etc. on this note, if you can not communicate effectively or hold a conversation with equal effort to what i'm putting in, then i'm likely not the writer for you. your girl is a certified and proud yapper who has an undying love for analysing our ocs, plots, and dynamics !! i'm a huge sucker for collaboration regarding the plot and i will push for brainstorming headcanons and plotlines before we start the rp, for sharing pinboards, tiktok vibes, music and media that remind us of the ocs, and i sincerely need this interaction to upkeep my interest so please give it to me !!

for tropes, i'd love to explore ones like possessiveness**, obsession**, rich kids gone wild**, step-siblings** (plsplspls), toxic x toxic, power imbalances, killer x stalker, dark side of the entertainment industry (music, acting, hollywood or kpop/jrock), modern aristocracy, old money v new money, dark academia, sports, arranged marriages and more.

and a side note here, but i'm mainly interested in writing ocs between the ages of 18 – and 26 as of now (flashbacks to younger ages are fine) and i do NOT enjoy large age gaps so please come at me with oc ideas within this same age range. i also need to leave a note that i have a preference for model fcs or lesser-known actor fcs– the only exception for popular actors would be if they're foreign such as kdrama actors or if you ask for suggestions and i mention it but otherwise, i'm not interested in the common fcs and am fine with using no fcs too. i'm totally with writing smut, cool with darker kinks too or doing fade-to-black based on your preference. but dear god, i need our ocs to be villainous and toxic and just a little problematic.

if this ad appeals to you, then hit the post with a like, and i'll get back to you asap.

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khattikeri · 2 months

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one of my favorite things about mdzs is that for how heavily its plot involves politics of classism and misogyny... even the characters most directly impacted by it can't and don't free themselves from it. literally the closest exception is mianmian.

meng yao being the "son of a whore" wasn't some sort of commie awakening for him that led him to wanting everyone to be socially equal. he played the political game, climbed the ladders, sucked up to and backstabbed and murdered people, including other prostitutes who actually had nothing to do with how he and his mother were treated at the brothel he grew up in.

he put in so much extra excessive effort for even a fraction of the same respect that members of gentry cultivation clans got. and he did deserve to be treated more humanely! but he feeds into the exact same system that created him, leading to his own undoing.

his efforts were for a fragile upward mobility that was never going to hold up. he never surpassed his origins nor did he empower others in similar stations, because the society he lives in is not one that would accept that.

the second he got caught and all those crimes exposed, he was scapegoated to hell and back, replacing wei wuxian as society's terrible one-sidedly evil boogeyman overnight.

speaking of not-quite male gentry, i think it's interesting that wei wuxian explicitly doesn't try to climb the ladders in BOTH lives, knowing full well that anything he does will be punished just for the sheer fact that he is wei wuxian.

wei wuxian is scolded for giving intelligent and correct answers in school. lan wangji does the same and is praised.

wei wuxian occasionally lounges around with fellow disciples and is punished. jiang cheng does the same and mostly escapes.

wei wuxian refuses to carry his sword around in public (after losing his golden core, which nobody knows) and is scorned as an arrogant upstart. nie huaisang has been doing the EXACT SAME THING for YEARS and nobody bats an eye.

unlike jin guangyao, wei wuxian knew subconsciously from the start that his acceptance was superficial and that he could be cast out any time. when he was 10 and recently taken in by the jiangs, he canonically would not eat or use "too much" food and water because he thought they'd find him a nuisance for "wasting their things" and kick him back out.

now away from just the classism, yu ziyuan is a proud and strong noblewoman in a society that belittles and derides women for everything they do. her strong cultivation doesn't matter. she's victim to the vicious rumors of her husband loving another woman who is strong like her but apparently had a more likeable personality.

it doesn't matter even if jiang fengmian didn't cheat or that wei wuxian is wei changze's son with cangse sanren; yu ziyuan can't bear with the humiliation of herself (and by extension her children) not being "good enough". she's ridiculed for "failing" in that one duty as a wife, mother, and woman.

she lashes out and takes out that anger on everyone present for years, giving her children lasting trauma and also being a key element in how the jiang family and yunmeng jiang sect are effectively wiped out at the hands of the wen clan.

madam jin doesn't even have a name outside of the fact that she's married to jin guangshan. i don't even remember reading anything that indicates if she's a strong or weak cultivator, or what, which in itself proves that to most people, it doesn't matter. she's "just" a woman.

of course she's angry at her husband's affairs and all the bastard children they bring in. but she also can't do anything about them, so she lashes out at the few people she can: servants. non-cultivators, probably. those very same bastard children.

shoutout to meng yao getting shoved down a flight of stairs at age fourteen, because if madam jin tried that move against her husband instead, it would make her lose even more face, which as a noblewoman she'd never do.

and that's not getting into how jiang yanli is consistently sidelined for being physically weak.

that's not getting into how mianmian was actually a good cultivator, but was mocked by everyone around her for trying to stand up for wei wuxian when everyone was turning on him. how everyone scoffed at luo qingyang's words as "just some lovesick woman" who "obviously wants to marry or bed him since he saved her".

luo qingyang is the only one of these characters who HASN'T died. she didn't play society's games like jin guangyao. she didn't dig her heels in confidence of her own abilities like wei wuxian.

she didn't bitterly lash out like yu ziyuan and madam jin. she didn't gently accept it like jiang yanli.

she just LEFT.

she married an ordinary merchant and cultivates separately from mainstream cultivation society, and therein found her own peace and happiness.

mxtx doesn't bother with particularly class conscious or feminist vocabulary to hand-hold readers into understanding these disparities, but that choice highlights them & the deeply entrenched politics of their society even more. i really love it.

#keri chats #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #long post #mdzs spoilers #im novel only but still tagging.#the untamed #cql #yeah yeah everyone's written meta addressing this aspect of the story BUT I THINK ABOUT IT ALL THE TIMEEEEE #maybe i just don't get to read a ton of books often; esp not ones that mirror my own culture. but it's just so. soooooo. augh #the fact that the setting itself enables so much of the tragedy in mdzs... which is true of all tragedies but STILL...#this isn't even getting into qin su and the power imbalance w her and jgy post-reveal... man.#man. so much going on here. man #THIS POST IS MESSY AND BARELY EDITED BUT IF U READ IT. ILU

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reasondetredancekathleenrea · 1 year

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Part Two In "Dancing in the Land of Spiritual Bypassing": Sally’s Story

Published January 17 2023 Hello. This is the third part of a three-part series called “Dancing in the Land of Spiritual Bypassing, ” written by three anonymous authors Dorit, Kate, and Sally, who have all practiced contact improvisation. All the stories in the series are based on incidents that occurred within the last two years. I thank this author “Sally” for the gift of her writing and her…

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#Contact Improv #Event Guidelines #Me Too #Power imbalances #Social Dance #Spiritual Bypassing #woman&039;s story

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temptresstitania · 2 months

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you look best on your hands and knees, head bowed in reverence, begging for mercy at my feet. your words are sweetest when they're choked with tears, when they tumble off your tongue, tinged with fear. you belong on the floor of my temple, in front of my altar, your spirit reaching out for me. i like you trembling. trembling in your temple vestments that leave little to the imagination. i like you with wide eyes that dare not connect with mine.

will you not be my most favored devotee?

will you not pay me tribute? ❂

#from the temple #dyke nsft #t4t nsft #wlw nsft #nblw nsft #hierophilia #religion kink #religious kink #bd/sm dynamic #power imbalance

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riizeblr · 2 months

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Am I the only one who’s feeling Eunseok more these days? Just thinking about doctor eunseok taking extra care of you. All the extra patting down is just a part of the procedure. Ofcourse you need to come regularly for check ups

rating: 18+. mdni.

content: dubcon, power imbalance, age gap, doctor!eunseok x innocent!reader

eunseok had never seen you in your own. you always trailed closely behind an old friend or your mother. they spoke for you, relaying updates to eunseok as his eyes stayed fixed on your frame. you were all hunched shoulders, shifty eyes and bitten lips, fiddling fingers and swinging feet. he tried to address you directly but you rarely responded, offering him little more than a shrug, a shake of your head, or a nod.

but today you wandered in alone, looking lost and worried. your nerves were clear in every movement as you anxiously checked in with eunseok’s assistant. he guided you in himself, dismissing his aid to an early, well-earned break to avoid a look of suspicion.

“all alone today?” eunseok questioned as you settled onto the examination table a few feet away from eunseok’s powering up computer.

you hummed shortly, straightening your back as eunseok inched closer, removing his stethoscope from his neck. “I have to come on my own now.”

“about time,” eunseok smiled when you stiffened, a sheepish expression on your face. “I’ve been waiting to do a thorough check up.”

“thorough?”

“yes,” eunseok signed into computer, inserting your vitals. “you’re grown,” faced you again, “have to make sure you’re staying safe and healthy.”

“up,” he ordered, sliding his chair towards you. you stood awkwardly, looking down at him with confusion in your eyes. “lift your skirt for me.” you slowly did as he ordered, jolting when he cupped your cunt.

“a little sensitive, hm?” eunseok’s finger flicked lightly at the front of your panties.

you tightened your hold on your skirt, “is that bad?”

eunseok sighed, “not necessarily.” he moved his grip to your hip, “but it’s a bit uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

“sometimes,” you admitted.

“do you touch yourself?”

your face paled and you dropped your skirt. eunseok kissed his teeth, lifting the hem of your skirt, “up.”

you hesitantly grabbed it, raising it. eunseok slid his finger towards your front, his cock filling with blood at the sight of a wet patch seeping into the baby pink fabric. “I asked you a question. I have to know these things, angel. aren’t you a big girl now?”

you swallowed, trapping his fingertips when you pressed your thighs together. “n-no. feels weird. like,” you looked away, “like i have to pee.”

“does it feel good?”

you looked at him, unsure. “I don’t know.”

eunseok rubbed your clothed cunt gently, eyes fixed on the way you tilt your head back, glossy bottom lip tucked between your teeth, and a tight hold on your skirt as you attempt to stay still and quiet. “you need to start taking care of yourself,” he whispered. “you need to start touching this sweet little cunt just like this. feeling like you have to pee is normal, means you’re doing something right. you just have to keep going.”

you nodded, breath skipping. “okay,” the word came out higher than usual, unsteady. “I can try.”

“you’re going to have to do more than try, angel.” he pushed against your hole, the cotton pushing past your lips, you jumped, “see how sensitive you are?”

you whimpered, trying to pull away but eunseok held the back of your thigh, “I feel it again.”

“let go for me, baby,” eunseok picked up his pace as he circled your swollen clit again. you blinked, eyes dampening, a slightly shaking your head. eunseok applied more pressure, enough to snap the coil in your tummy.

you spasmed as you came, shaking as your knees almost gave in. your eyebrows cinched, your mouth parting as pretty whimpers and whines bubbled from your throat. eunseok rubbed you through it, using his free hand to steady you. he couldn’t take his eyes off you, entranced by the sight of you falling apart.

“so sensitive,” he mumbled.

“did that feel good?” he asked.

your eyes were wet when you opened them, your lips quivering, “a little.”

“only a little? hm, you’re gonna have to come back soon then.” eunseok murmured, trailing a thin finger along your jaw. “you know I just want the best for you.”

#tw dubcon #tw power imbalance #tw age gap #discography !#feat. eunseok !#doctor!eunseok #eunseok x reader #eunseok smut #riize x reader #riize smut #riize hard hours #dark riize #dark eunseok #eunseok #riize

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aronarchy · 1 year

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Why we don’t like it when children hit us back

To all the children who have ever been told to “respect” someone that hated them.

March 21, 2023

Even those of us that are disturbed by the thought of how widespread corporal punishment still is in all ranks of society are uncomfortable at the idea of a child defending themself using violence against their oppressors and abusers. A child who hits back proves that the adults “were right all along,” that their violence was justified. Even as they would cheer an adult victim for defending themself fiercely.

Even those “child rights advocates” imagine the right child victim as one who takes it without ever stopping to love “its” owners. Tear-stained and afraid, the child is too innocent to be hit in a guilt-free manner. No one likes to imagine the Brat as Victim—the child who does, according to adultist logic, deserve being hit, because they follow their desires, because they walk the world with their head high, because they talk back, because they are loud, because they are unapologetically here, and resistant to being cast in the role of guest of a world that is just not made for them.

If we are against corporal punishment, the brat is our gotcha, the proof that it is actually not that much of an injustice. The brat unsettles us, so much that the “bad seed” is a stock character in horror, a genre that is much permeated by the adult gaze (defined as “the way children are viewed, represented and portrayed by adults; and finally society’s conception of children and the way this is perpetuated within institutions, and inherent in all interactions with children”), where the adult fear for the subversion of the structures that keep children under control is very much represented.

It might be very well true that the Brat has something unnatural and sinister about them in this world, as they are at constant war with everything that has ever been created, since everything that has been created has been built with the purpose of subjugating them. This is why it feels unnatural to watch a child hitting back instead of cowering. We feel like it’s not right. We feel like history is staring back at us, and all the horror we felt at any rebel and wayward child who has ever lived, we are feeling right now for that reject of the construct of “childhood innocence.” The child who hits back is at such clash with our construction of childhood because we defined violence in all of its forms as the province of the adult, especially the adult in authority.

The adult has an explicit sanction by the state to do violence to the child, while the child has both a social and legal prohibition to even think of defending themself with their fists. Legislation such as “parent-child tort immunity” makes this clear. The adult’s designed place is as the one who hits, and has a right and even an encouragement to do so, the one who acts, as the person. The child’s designed place is as the one who gets hit, and has an obligation to accept that, as the one who suffers acts, as the object. When a child forcibly breaks out of their place, they are reversing the supposed “natural order” in a radical way.

This is why, for the youth liberationist, there should be nothing more beautiful to witness that the child who snaps. We have an unique horror for parricide, and a terrible indifference at the 450 children murdered every year by their parents in just the USA, without even mentioning all the indirect suicides caused by parental abuse. As a Psychology Today article about so-called “parricide” puts it:

Unlike adults who kill their parents, teenagers become parricide offenders when conditions in the home are intolerable but their alternatives are limited. Unlike adults, kids cannot simply leave. The law has made it a crime for young people to run away. Juveniles who commit parricide usually do consider running away, but many do not know any place where they can seek refuge. Those who do run are generally picked up and returned home, or go back on their own: Surviving on the streets is hardly a realistic alternative for youths with meager financial resources, limited education, and few skills.

By far, the severely abused child is the most frequently encountered type of offender. According to Paul Mones, a Los Angeles attorney who specializes in defending adolescent parricide offenders, more than 90 percent have been abused by their parents. In-depth portraits of such youths have frequently shown that they killed because they could no longer tolerate conditions at home. These children were psychologically abused by one or both parents and often suffered physical, sexual, and verbal abuse as well—and witnessed it given to others in the household. They did not typically have histories of severe mental illness or of serious and extensive delinquent behavior. They were not criminally sophisticated. For them, the killings represented an act of desperation—the only way out of a family situation they could no longer endure.

- Heide, Why Kids Kill Parents, 1992.

Despite these being the most frequent conditions of “parricide,” it still brings unique disgust to think about it for most people. The sympathy extended to murdering parents is never extended even to the most desperate child, who chose to kill to not be killed. They chose to stop enduring silently, and that was their greatest crime; that is the crime of the child who hits back. Hell, children aren’t even supposed to talk back. They are not supposed to be anything but grateful for the miserable pieces of space that adults carve out in a world hostile to children for them to live following adult rules. It isn’t rare for children to notice the adult monopoly on violence and force when they interact with figures like teachers, and the way they use words like “respect.” In fact, this social dynamic has been noticed quite often:

Sometimes people use “respect” to mean “treating someone like a person” and sometimes they use “respect” to mean “treating someone like an authority” and sometimes people who are used to being treated like an authority say “if you won’t respect me I won’t respect you” and they mean “if you won’t treat me like an authority I won’t treat you like a person” and they think they’re being fair but they aren’t, and it’s not okay.

(https://soycrates.tumblr.com/post/115633137923/stimmyabby-sometimes-people-use-respect-to-mean)

But it has received almost no condemnation in the public eye. No voices have raised to contrast the adult monopoly on violence towards child bodies and child minds. No voices have raised to praise the child who hits back. Because they do deserve praise. Because the child who sets their foot down and says this belongs to me, even when it’s something like their own body that they are claiming, is committing one of the most serious crimes against adult society, who wants them dispossessed.

Sources:

“The Adult Gaze: a tool of control and oppression,” https://livingwithoutschool.com/2021/07/29/the-adult-gaze-a-tool-of-control-and-oppression

“Filicide,” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Filicide