#graphic death threats

[thegreenleavesofspring]

Birdie is the nice brother - except when he's not.

[furiousgoldfish]

This is going to sound incoherent to those who haven't been told over and over they're monsters or demons or animals as children, but I need to write it down.

It was often I would be told that I was some kind of evil creature and not a child, as a justification for abusing me, and I wouldn't have any kind of response to that, because how do you combat that? How do you respond to a parent or a family member calling you a snake and a swine and satan? I would get frozen in doubt and start to internalize, that I must be non-human, I must be evil and fundamentally wrong and demonic in some way, because I couldn't find any argument against it. After all, these people were saying it so surely, so filled with rage and righteous justice, that I was non-human, that it was not only okay but necessary to hurt me, and it's all I've ever known. And I still get flashbacks to those moments when I would be told stuff like 'you should have been strangled to death the second you were born', and I freeze. It hurts. I can't reason with hatred like that.

It's only today my brain finally found some counter arguments to it.

Was I born to a human being, or to an animal? If I had been an animal, I would have been born to an animal mother. And she wouldn't hate me like you do. Even if I was a baby snake, there would have been no need to torture me, I would have been normal and natural as a snake. But, even as a child, I had arms and legs, it was obvious I wasn't a snake.

If I as a demon, how would I be born into a family of humans? Wouldn't it be shown in the color of my eyes, or my skin, or my actions? Have I been displaying anything but normal child behaviour? How would anyone be able to tell I was a demon, if I was born to humans, acted like a normal human child, and had never done acts of irreparable evil and sadism? What made me a demon then?

If there was nothing but evil in me, why was I in so much fear and pain all the time? Is that how evil-doers feel? Why was I too scared to do even normal, mundane things that other kids fearlessly did? Why was nobody afraid of me? Why did people feel comfortable hurting me, cornering me and attacking me, if I was so dangerous and malicious?

It was painfully obvious that I was a human child from the start. Calling a human child demonic is not normal, it's not well-intentioned, it's not for the child's own good. It's cruel and vicious. And it wasn't based on anything inside of me. You saw a child you wanted to hurt repeatedly, and making the child believe they're not human was the simplest way for you to get away with it. Why did you need to hurt the child repeatedly? Even if you believed it was something else, an animal or an evil creature, why did it give you pleasure to hurt it over and over again? Why would you intentionally corner a small creature inside of your home and cause pain to it? Did it give you pleasure to see fear and tears? Did you enjoy it so much you just had to keep doing it?

All small humans are the same, they have small little limbs, they're squishy, they're sensitive, they get spooked and scared easily, they like playing brave to make themselves feel stronger. There's no reason to corner and torture one, and call them evil for that. I was the same. I was acting brave but I was small, and soft, with little limbs, easily spooked, easily brought to tears. What was in you to want to break me? What was it worth to you to do it?

You could have picked any child for it, and it wouldn't have made any difference. I was just what was in the house.

[web-novel-polls]

(These are just the characters I've seen called homophobic the most. Don’t take this too seriously. Or do - Just don't be a dick)

[trans-axolotl]

have not been as active on tumblr this week because SWERFs found one of my posts about sw and have been harassing me in the notes. inbox and notes are currently filled with death threats and whorephobia which is. just great

[susansontag]

I’ve deleted it because it felt a bit targeted but all I’m saying is you can’t try and defend your friend didn’t make threats of violence against tumblr staff by pulling up an example of where they described a hilariously graphic death wish on the ceo. like yes they’ll permanently ban you for that. this site isn’t a free speech democracy djdjdjdj

[spinchip]

Turn You to a Colder Summer

(a/n: I wrote and edited this during my breaks at work, don't judge my grammar mistakes too harshly hehe)

(Warnings: frostbite (descriptions of numbness), violence, blood, injury, torture, mentions of past self harm, mouth trauma, threat of potential death. Kai does not have a good time, but he lives. The Ice Emperor is a Bad Guy)

(Wordcount: 2600)

Cold fingers drag along Kai's cheek in painful friction, ice crystals cracking and cutting into his skin like nettles as the hand arcs up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. The Ice Emperor's eyes are uncanny where they piece Kais gaze- black sclera where there should be white, burning electric blue where there should be warm sky, little flecks of gold that shift in and out of existence in the glow of the ice spires around them. No love. His expression is blank but not in the way Zanes usually is. It's cruel, clinical, and coldly detached.

Kai is bound in the floor, laid sideways to avoid the throbbing agony of brushing his frostbitten shoulder along the too-cold stone beneath him. That mark is hand-shaped, pressed brutally into his skin with a purposeful touch because Zane's ice couldn't get past the fire in his blood normally, not without excessive force or access to unlimited power. The ice blocks binding his arms behind his back and his ankles together don't sink frost as deep as when the Ice Emperor had torn him from his friends with an iron grip around his bicep. Their ambush failed. They were trying to escape, back through the tunnels Krag had shown them but he hesitated to follow, a part of him wanting to try and succeed where Lloyd had failed and draw Zane from the tyrant wearing his face. Kai knew better, he knew he couldn't get caught.

But he did, and now the Emperor is crouched over him with strange eyes and snowflakes trickling from his palm.

"He's not himself." Lloyd had said after stumbling back into the village- he’d left to look for the land bounty and had stayed gone three days, "If he catches you, he'll kill you." He promised, the sash from his ninja suit rewrapped tight over his belly and stained with his blood. The Staff of forbidden spinjitzu had a blade, after all. The Emperor was not afraid to use it. It was pure luck Lloyd had avoided the thick of the blade and hadn’t dropped his guts on the throne room floor.

To further prove his point and to save a life, he'd been dragging behind him a girl with each of her limbs encased in ice and delirious from blood loss, her mouth smeared with red where she'd coughed up bits of her lungs. He’d tapped her- just a tap against her sternum, the barest of hits that she’d nearly dodged, and he’d pushed ice into the delicate capillaries lining her lungs and frozen her blood half solid. The first breath she’d taken after had been agony, the second had torn. Akita. Lloyd had to tell them her name because she had passed out not long after arriving in the village- and when she tries to speak she was too out of it to form the right words. The blood flooding in her mouth wasn’t any help, either. Her body gave out once they began to chip her limbs free of ice, exhaustion claiming her. She was holding on to her life by a thread. Zane had done that.

No, the Ice Emperor had done that. It was an important distinction.

Kai, who'd just gotten his power back- the weak flicker that it was- had gone and gotten himself caught by the man.

The Ice Emperors eyes cut paths along his face, searching for something he knows is there but can't quite place. He'd been pacing around Kai for a long while, agitated and upset as he stared daggers at his prisoner. The frost on the edge of Kais cold and chapped lips reminds him not to speak. The Emperor has no qualms about forcing his silence. At first he’d thought the man was guarding him, too worried about the threat his powers might impose to regulate him to a typical cell under the palace. He was wrong. The Ice Emperor has no fear of him at all. Now he's so close Kai can smell oil, tracing burning cold lines into his skin as if finding the right path across his face will reveal what he's looking for.

Kai prepares for the eventual question. He also prepares for the scenario where the Emperor asks no questions and freezes his heart in his chest, but he hopes it doesn't come to that. He imagines what the Ice Emperor might ask- what the part of Zane still alive in him might push him to ask. There's no doubt that Zane still lives, because if he didn't the Emperor would have no reason to take any interest I'm him at all. He'd have been dead ten times over. Maybe he'll ask who are you? Or how do I know you? Or how do you know me? And Kai can explain to him that he loves him, he loves him, he loves him and that will make everything okay. It will. It has to.

Another long moment passes where the Emperor is crouched over him searching. Kai searches him too. Looks at everything in hope of finding the piece of the puzzle he can use to slot everything back into place. He's wearing completely different robes than he was before he was struck by the staff, white and gray and hand embroidered with diamonds made to glitter everytime he moved. His armor is growing fractals of ice in a messy, unkempt way. There's a patch where the icicles have been meticulously chipped away, but that chore was dropped and now they've been left to grow rampant. His face is dented and there's a patch of ice that's holding his jaw in place- an ugly crack from the corner of his mouth, a gap, and Kai can see where the connection between his mandible and skull has been snapped. The lopsided frown makes the break even more apparent.

The hand on his face is covered by a pure white glove. The hand on the staff is bare other than a thick case of ice, and Kai can see clear through it to the mess underneath. The titanium casing on his hand has been split apart to reveal his skeletal structure below. Kai has spent enough time in Jay and Nyas' mechanic lair under the monastery to have at least somewhat of a grasp on the basics of Zanes parts, so he knows what he's looking at. More specifically, he knows what he's not looking at. Wire- important wires, the ones Nya complains about because they have to special order them and they take ages to come- are missing. Not torn out, but neatly trimmed down near his wrist. The structure boning for his pinkie is gone, removed in the same clean fashion. There's more- Kai only knows so much, but he can tell the machinery underneath looks far more barren than a few wires and bone. Lloyd told them about the message in that cave, where he'd tried to fix the mech.

Kai can see it clearly in his mind. Zane, desperate and alone, taking the edge of a ninja star and sliding it along the near Invisible seam holding the casing of his hand together and shoving, cracking the connection points until it pops clean off. He and the mechs used the same type of wiring, after all.

The Emperor's voice is quiet when he speaks, the unfamiliar deep grit softening in the question meant just for the space between them, "Why do I hate you so much?"

Kais heartbreak over what might have happened in the cave stalls, every part of his mind thrown off rhythm with a question he never would have guessed he'd be asked. He can't articulate a response because he can't understand why Zane would hate him, and why that emotion would be leaking out into the Ice Emperor now.

"Zane-" He starts before his mouth is sealed shut with a layer of ice. Brain freeze hits first, sharp and cruel and like an icepick up through the roof of his mouth. Frost invades his mouth and glues his teeth together, crawling halfway down his throat. It hurts all the way to the roots of his teeth and he thrashes on instinct, bouncing his head off hard stone before he can control his reaction. Every part of his face hurts. There's a terrifying moment where the ice spreads over the back of his throat and seals off his sinuses and he's certain the Emperor has finally decided to kill him by suffocating him to death.

But the ice recedes almost as quickly as it came, though the Emperor keeps his hand over Kais mouth as a reminder not to slip up again. That was worse than the first time he'd done it, Kai doesn't want to know how bad it might be next.

The Ice Emperor's face is terrifyingly blank, a mask that gives absolutely nothing to Kai, so empty it scares him more than anything he's done so far. The interest in his eyes has fractured, and underneath is a hatred that makes the black of his pupils seem darker.

"You and your friends," his voice is still gentle, chillingly calm, "I hate all of you so much. I do not know why, but I do. I want to punish you."

Kai’s heart is jack rabbiting in his chest, beating at his ribs as adrenaline floods his system with nowhere to go. Fight or flight and he can't do either.

He takes his hand off Kai's mouth, "Speak." He orders.

Kai is woefully unprepared, stumbling over himself to try and come up with some way to remind Zane who he is. Lloyd told him that Zane said he loved them in his goodbye video. Why did that change? Was it the staff corrupting his mind? But the staff can only feed feelings that were already there. Did some part of Zane, some small part, really hate him?

"You're sick," he tries, his tongue darting out to try and wet chapped lips but its been hours since he's had a drink and his mouth is dry, "The staff is altering your mind, Zane. This isn't you. We're all friends! We love you!" He isn't above pleading and he pours desperation into each word, "You have to remember! I love you!"

The Emperor tilts his head inquisitively to the side as his expression flickers along the edges. Kai still knows Zane well enough to pick up on the minute changes- not a hint of it is kind. Whatever Kai said picked something loose, but not enough. Not enough. The light In his eyes changes but not in any way Kai can understand. He presses his finger to Kais mouth and seals it with another layer of ice, stopping his words. The air is thick, fraught with a tension so strong Kai can barely breathe through it. The Emperor looks at him. His eyes are so dark. He can still see Zane in everything the man does.

"I waited for you," the Ice Emperor speaks slowly, sounding out the sentence as if reaffirming its truth. A piece of Zane, just a sliver- a curiosity for the man crouched before him. It's a feeling, a certainty of a grievous crime, "And you never came."

It's bone chilling hatred.

It's betrayal.

Kais heart drops through his stomach and cracks to pieces on the icy floor. No no no-! He can't wrench his jaw free of his muzzle but he tries desperately to. He tries to scream, to howl and pour heat into his mouth- fire reacts to his devotion to his family, rushing through his body but again Kai is not enough.

We didn't know! We couldn't have known! We came as soon as we could! He thrashes on the floor, tries to bash his jaw down to shatter ice. He wants to grab the Emperor by the shoulders and shake shake shake him until his head pops off. I would have torn apart the sixteen realms to get to you! He's crying and the tears sting where they drip down his face. I would do anything!

He slumps, boneless and sore where his skin bruises on stone. He's thirsty, he's starving, and he's so so cold. The fire flickers out of him back down to an ember, faint and comforting if not much else. He blinks the wet from his eyes and sees the Emperors white white robes are stained with blood at the bottom. Above him, the tyrant moves.

Kai pushes himself back, the reality really sinking in. He was going to die here. No! he couldn't! He couldn't let Zane do this because when they got him back- and they would get him back, Kai has to believe that- he would never forgive himself. His back hits a pillar of ice and he looks around wildly, trying to figure out some way to get out of this, a smoking gun, a dues ex machina- anything! To stop what's coming.

He can do nothing. He squeezes his eyes shut as the Ice Emperor cups his cheek gently- but there's no ice stabbing into his brain, no agony of a literal ice pick lobotomy. The Emperors thumb wipes away an errant tear. A heartbeat passes before Kai hesitantly looks up at him.

The Emperor's face is still and serene, "I am not going to kill you, Kai." There is a moment of relief, even an inkling of hope before the chill comes.

It seeps into his skin from the Emperor's hand, down down through his face- It pours like slush through fat and muscle, cutting through his cheek to burn his gums and freeze the nerves in his teeth. It gets colder. Kai tries to dislodge his hand but the Emperor jerks forward and slams him down, holding his head against the stone floor as he pours ice into his blood faster, more brutal. Kai can't scream, his jaw locking against the bite of frost. It gets colder. It burns like the road rash he’d gotten the first time he’d wrecked his motorcycle, but a million times worse. Pain overwhelms all of his senses until he forgets how to breathe, hyperventilating and trying miserably to suck in enough air through his nose. His mouth is still sealed shut, he can't get enough air- he can't- His vision flickers with black spots.

It gets colder.

Feeling stops, numbness spreading like a balm over dying nerves. He stops struggling, taking advantage of the respite to catch his breath. His chest hurts with how hard his heart beats. His head is spinning. He looks up at the Ice Emperor with exhausted eyes and finds no pity, and especially no mercy. As Kai had struggled and sobbed in agony, he’d watched it all happen. He’d just watched. Kai is aware of the hand in his face by pressure alone, feeling blissfully gone.

The Ice Emperor takes his hand away.

He lays there and breathes, a tingling feeling spreading over his cheek. Pins and needles that turn sharper and sharper. With the loss of cold, feeling creeps back in and Kai is slowly aware of every inch of dying skin the frostbite has decimated. It hurts- it hurts like nothing he's ever experienced. He can't comprehend the pain, his mind blanking out as the blood roars in his ear. His vision goes gray at the edges as he struggles to stay awake. He can't pass out- he has to bring Zane back. He has to. He can't let him hurt the others. He can’t fail him like he did with the fight against Aspheera. Kai has to be enough. Please let him be enough.

The Emperor cards a hand through Kai's bangs, deceptively gentle as he wipes sweat slick hair off his forehead.

"I want you to suffer."

[helicarrier]

If someone asks me about my issues with DNIs, I think I’ll just refer them to this post from now on.

Tumblr, as a website, is designed for quick, casual content sharing. You can follow blogs, then immediately like and reblog posts from them. New posts are even recommended to you directly on your dash, so you don’t even need to look at their originating blogs to interact with them. DNIs put a wrench in this intuitive manner of using tumblr. They force someone to stop and detour and read a page before they touch any posts from a blog they don't know, and that contradicts how tumblr is intuitively meant to be used. If you see a post and you like it, and if there’s an icon right underneath it, your first reaction is to click the icon. I’m sure most of us have instinctively clicked “like” (or “reblog”) on a post we found interesting.

DNIs prevent this kind of “casual” interaction. Their existence means you have to stop yourself before you interact (in any way) with a cool post, find the DNI page of the person who reblogged the post and, if applicable, find the DNI of the person who made the original post as well (because they’ll also receive the notification, unless they deleted the post on their blog), read it, then return to the post. Nothing about DNIs are baked into the functionality of tumblr in an intuitive way; if anything, the only real “do not interact with me” function you will find here in tumblr’s infrastructure is the block function.

Because DNIs are so antithetical to how tumblr functions, they're an inherently futile way of preventing interaction with certain groups of people, too. Most people aren't going to read my rules or my pinned post before they interact with my content. I would not expect them to, because it doesn't occur to many people, and it's a lot of wasted time. Even people with certain kinds of users in their DNIs routinely interact with posts made by those very people, proving this point. It is so inconvenient and absurd to read a page every time someone so much as likes a post by a random blog. Those people you don't want interacting with you? They're probably reading your blog; liking your posts even if they don't expressly say they're x group from your DNI. They're doing the same to my posts, too. That's just the price we pay for being in a public space focused on content sharing. And I accept this. Other peoples' behaviour is completely out of my control. I just block people when needed, because it is my responsibility to curate my space.

And that is the crux of the matter: I refuse to pass the responsibility of curating my space onto strangers. I refuse to make it someone else's problem when they are using tumblr in the way it was meant to be used. Ideologically and functionally, it does not make sense to me.

Just think about it: tumblr is a public website. Unless your blog is password-protected, people can find it anytime, and if they really want to interact, they'll interact regardless of your DNI. It’s not like most people will say, "oh, drat, I'm a racist, I should leave!". Maybe they’ll just interact because the labels you dislike are not visible on their blog, so they'll fly under your radar. And at times where peoples' labels or behaviour are visible, the good ol' block button is the golden standard. It always has been.

If I become mutuals with someone, sure, we'll agree to scratch each others' backs, and tag whatever the other person needs tagged. But that's different from expecting every stranger who comes across my content, wherever it shows up, to follow demands that are all the way over here, on this blog. If someone reblogs one of my photosets way over in the Stranger Things fandom, and people see the reblogged post, they shouldn't need to come to my Marvel/Random Shit™ blog and read my pages before clicking the stupid little heart button. But imagine needing to do this with every single person, every single post of theirs. Sure, maybe you’re familiar with the DNIs of the people you follow. But what about all the posts they’ve reblogged? Those posts have OPs. Do the OPs of those posts have a DNI that’s favourable to you, too?

DNIs aren't even optional reads now, and everyone suffers because of that. The proliferation of DNIs has made a culture where if someone accidentally forgets to read a DNI, doesn't know that DNIs exist, or misinterprets the contents of a DNI, it’s considered acceptable to harass them for it. It's anxiety-inducing.

“...Shit, I forgot to like their DNI.”

It doesn't help that I never know what "basic DNI criteria" means, or what the "etcetera" means either, because it changes from person to person. Folks, I’ve seen homophobes with “basic DNI criteria” in their pages. That aside, you can say "bigots DNI", but a lot of transphobes don't believe they're bigots, so you could still get radfems liking your posts. You could say "bullies DNI", but many fanpols don't consider themselves bullies, because they believe if someone writes fanfiction from the perspective of Hannibal Lecter, of course their reaction to it isn’t “bullying”, it's just justified shaming!

Everyone is the hero of their own story, and everyone thinks they're the exception. They will be the exception to your DNI, too. Again, this all goes back to the "you can't control who interacts with your content" thing. It's maddening to try and think of all the angles, all the ways to "catch" people, all the ways to plug up all the holes. You may not want to hear it, but you never will. You can get the broad strokes, but you’ll never get everyone, you won’t even get close. Even if you do somehow manage to fit all the exact terms into your DNI, and you end up with a DNI longer than a CVS receipt, you’re still going to run into all the people who... Simply don’t read it. Meanwhile, you look a little too preoccupied with who’s looking at your blog on a public website, and even if a well-intended person comes across your blog, they may just check out because they’re uncomfortable with the micromanaging.

...If they can read the DNI. Look, I’m all for creative formatting, but I see so many DNIs (and carrds in general) that have hot pink writing on a red background, or baby pink on baby blue, or yellow on lime green, and I can’t read any of it, not to mention it’s a migraine risk among other things. I’m not reading dozens of these pages every other day.

It doesn't help that many DNIs are rude, angry, hostile pages that tell people to kill themselves. That's not right. When someone volunteers to read an information page, they are doing that person a courtesy. It is shameful people need to read things like "kill yourself", "swallow a knife", and other verbal sewage. It doesn't matter if it's directed to them or not. Simply looking for people to follow and interact with, simply liking a post, should not be an exercise in mental fortitude. Needing to read awful threats over and over again should not be a requirement for engaging on this site. Imagine having depression, intrusive thoughts, and so on, where this stuff could land twice as hard. It's gotten to the point where my eyes immediately gloss over when I open a DNI, because my mind simply doesn't want to see any more shit and is trying to protect me. I'm at the point where I don't want to open DNIs at all.

But as you guessed, there's a problem with that. Because DNIs are almost compulsory on tumblr now, ignoring them has two possible outcomes: one, you annoy a ton of people, because maybe their DNIs say they don't want you around, but you're interacting with their stuff anyways. Maybe you get labelled as the person who ignores DNIs. Two, you stop your browsing in part, or as a whole, meaning almost nobody gets likes or reblogs from you anymore, because you’re trying to not waste your time, you’re trying to preserve your sanity, etc. And this hamstrings content creators.

One of the biggest flaws in DNIs is that nobody is obligated to reveal information on themselves. Minors can easily hide their age. Bigots can hide their bigotry. People can remove info from their description until they're clear of someone's initial "new follower vibe check", then put it back. Nobody knows you're a dog on the internet. It's naive to assume people will be honest about themselves, and adhere to a DNI.

DNIs are often so incredibly vague and their attitude so charged that people can't even ask for clarification, because the writer of the DNI could be radicalized and have very unhealthy views, and absolutely attack someone for reaching out. A DNI might say, "don't interact if you support incest", but it never clarifies in real life, or fiction. There has been an enormous uptick in moral panic over fiction lately, so lots of people might ask for clarification, but if they do, the person could say "in real life and fiction, duh!", flame them because they "didn't know something so obvious, it must mean they're sus!", then flame them again because they viewed the poor person's blog and saw lots of mature content they think people shouldn't write. It's absurd, but unfortunately, that kind of panic has spread. Many people use DNIs as extensions of their unhealthy interaction, media consumption, and browsing habits.

So I usually avoid DNIs.

All in all, I don't mind if someone politely asks other people to not interact, or if they say they block for certain stuff, if there’s a clear awareness that it's not a be-all, end-all solution, and that people will still interact. As long as they put the onus on themselves, rather than other people, to curate their space, it’s cool. For example, if someone is an 18+ blog, and they ask minors not to interact? Cool, if they don’t “punish” or otherwise attack minors who find posts of theirs on other blogs, and “like” them from there without going all the way over to the OG blog to see if they’re allowed to do like it. Because again, that’s a bit of an unfair requirement to impose on people. And whatever.

Because people shouldn’t feel like they’re playing minesweeper when they want to click a heart. Between the terfs, racists, and all the other issues, we have enough on our hands already.

[phantomdecibel]

Now I have Eurylochus and Odysseus coming to a compromise where Ody gets to adopt Tel and Eury get Ant and Polites has joint custody of both

Neither of the boys are aware that this happens until some noble finds out about who Tel and Ant used to be and bring it up because Ant happens to be there with Asty that night at the banquet and Eury is just like “you wanna run you insulting my kid by me again?”

And Ant is just like “wait what now”

YEEEEEEEEEEEEES

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

people going “well we can’t know! it’s so complicated and mysterious! you’re wrong for judging!” whenever a character does anything that isn’t morally pure is something I hate so fucking much bc not only do people often sprinkle in some good old fashioned real life victim blaming by trying to state that the action is so complicated and morally grey irl too even if it’s something like murdering someone for no reason but it’s also just like. bro why do you like this character if you think they’re so unknowable either the character is terribly written or you have negative media comprehension skills like even mysterious characters who don’t tell the truth a lot can be analysed? figure out the patterns, what they stay consistent about, what we know is a lie and what isn’t to figure out what else might be lies or might be truth, and you can easily figure out their basic personality and motivation. but like, that normally makes them flawed and sometimes horrible people and we're allergic to liking characters that aren’t morally good anymore i guess. you can’t even handle morally grey characters without trying to justify their every action as okay let alone straight up villains. hell, you can’t even handle heroes that fuck up once you either think they’re evil ontologically forever or argue that their fuck up was totally fine actually like. please realise you can enjoy media and analyse it without having to make everyone a one note goodie or baddie. and slapping on the label morally grey doesn’t fix it y'all don’t even know what that means.

[evansbby]

500,000 people in London today protesting to free Palestine. Half a million people all coming together to protest against the bombings of innocent civilians, the actual genocide of the Palestinians that is happening as we speak.

[intern-seraph]

.

[jamiebluewind]

WARNING: graphic threats of violence, addiction, gun mention, possible psychosis, hearing voices, harassment, death threats, gun violence

I'm going to TRY to make this brief. Today my half brother called me and threaten to kill me. He believes I'm "talking to him all the time" and that he has to "save the family" from me. He's an addict, I haven't talked to him in years, and I moved to another state. NOBODY knows why he's started doing this. He just did.

He can't find me, but he can find my family. He showed up at his ex wife's place (we are still on good terms) a couple months ago talking gibberish about me, but there was no direct threat (he just mumbled, talked about saving everyone, and mentioned my name several times) so the police didn't do anything. He contacted my nephew and left a video message trying to find me and saying he's going to save everyone from me by... violence. He's also looking for our dad.

I contacted the police, but getting a warrant on someone in a different state is difficult, especially since it's the weekend. He called me a second time just now (the first time was in the afternoon and the second was in the middle of the night), so I installed a voice recorder on my phone for if he calls a third time. I'm kicking myself for not doing it earlier.

I'm not scared for me; I'm scared for my family back in Arkansas. He's not in his right mind, he's on drugs, he has a history of violence, and he's lost everything and THAT makes him very dangerous. His ex told me she saw him in the town my dad lives and my dad lives next to my nephew and his family, so they are all in one spot if he figures out where they live.

I know some of my family hasn't always been the best to me (like my dad saying he never wanted to talk to me again after I came out as bi), but I'm scared for them and helpless unless/until I can get a warrent put out for his arrest (and it's the weekend). It's just... too much. So here I am screaming into the void because it's 5 am and I don't know what else to do.

[egopocalypse]

Run Boy Run

Whumptober Day 2: Nowhere to Run, Cornered

Characters: c!Primeboys/discduo

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood, Threats, and c!Dream being a creepy, abusive motherfucker.

Word Count: 1.8k

Read on AO3

He can’t stop running.

His pursuer hunts him down like a snake chasing down a rat, slipping through the bare, leafless trees faster than he can flee. Snow crumples under his feet, soaking into his worn sneakers and down the cuff of his socks. No matter how fast he runs, the predator always follows. They won’t give up. They will never set him free.

“You don’t have to make this difficult, Tommy,” Dream calls from behind. “The sooner you give up, the sooner this ends for the both of us.”

“More like the sooner you fucking kill me,” Tommy shouts into the wind.

An enderpearl pops above his head, and he pivots, darting to the left to try to duck out of sight. Dream appears a few meters to his side and swipes at him, but Tommy skitters to a stop and takes off in the other direction, zig-zagging through the trees for better cover and yanking on low branches for extra leverage.

“Maybe if you gave in, I’d make it painless,” Dream says. A trident strikes the tree by Tommy’s head and rips out of the wood, spreading broken bark and wood chips into his face. “Or well, maybe not painless, but definitely not as bad as I could make it. I’d save those methods for later.”

Tommy rubs his watering eyes and ducks, releasing a shaky breath as a thin branch scrapes his scalp. He licks chapped lips, tasting the cold sweat and snot dripping from his runny nose.

Fuck. In his panic, he completely lost track of where he was running to. He has no idea where the hell Techno and Phil’s place is from here, and even if he did, there’s no chance Dream would let him run there again after Exile, and he couldn’t expect Techno and Phil to let him in anyway, not after they fucking broke Dream out of prison.

Did he really screw up that much that they wouldn’t just destroy his home, but they’d let Dream, his murderer, his—Dream, out of prison?

“Oh, Tommy,” Dream croons, “come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Tommy’s breath hitches, and he picks up his pace. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The snow’s falling far too slow to cover his tracks, especially with Dream already in hot pursuit. He has to find somewhere drier, where the grass will grip better to his thinning tread, and his own struggle to survive won’t lead directly to a death sentence.

A trident swirls above his head and stabs into the ground right behind him. If Tommy had been any slower, he would be dead.

“Found you.”

Tommy races behind a large, rotting tree trunk. An arrow whizzes past him, whistling through the air as it cuts past his ear. Tommy flinches, curling into himself as he struggles to get his fucking breathing under control.

“That was a warning shot, Tommy,” Dream says. “Next time, I won’t miss.”

Tommy can’t keep going for much longer. His skin stings. Branches and bushes whip his bare arms and legs and paint thin, bloody scratches across his body. His lungs burn from heaving the brisk, biting air. Lactic acid laps at his limbs as exhaustion sweeps over, wishing to drag him into the dirt and accept defeat.

He'll die if he runs; he'll die if he stands still. No matter how he does it, he has to survive. He has to try.

A branch rustles, and Tommy hightails it in the other direction, pushing his aching legs to keep going. Broken twigs snap under his feet, muffled by the soft crunch of snow, yet still loud enough to hear over his pounding heartbeat. He doesn't know where he's running to or who's safe, but fucking Prime, someone help him please—

As he breaks into a clearing, something sharp impales his shoulder.

His knees buckle, and as he collapses, he curses at top volume, startling the birds enough to send the flocks flying away. The wound throbs, pulsing down his arm and lower back. With his left hand, he grapples behind his back for the arrow, only to find a short, slender, wooden handle.

A throwing axe. Dream got him with a goddamn throwing axe.

"What the fuck?"

"You like it?" Dream steps into the clearing, flipping another throwing axe into the air. "I had them made just for you." He catches the axe and points it at Tommy's chest. "Next time you run off, I'm aiming for your spine."

Oh, fuck no. There's no fucking way Dream will ever get that close. Tommy would rather die on his own terms than let Dream kill him again.

Tommy scampers back, keeping the distance between them. “You stay the fuck away from me! They’ll see that you killed me, Dream! They’ll know!”

“They will, huh?” Dream says. “Who will? Techno? Tubbo? Sam? If they cared, they’d be here, wouldn’t they? But look! No one’s here to be your human shield, Tommy! And even if they were, none of them would stop me. Techno even helped me, and Sam? Sam killed Ranboo. He doesn’t care. If he cared, he would’ve stopped me from killing you in the prison.”

“If I’m alone, then who the fuck do you have, Dream?” Tommy says. “You have nobody! You didn’t when we locked you up, and you don’t have people now. Sapnap and them, they’ll kill you, or they’ll put you right back in the prison where you belong. You don’t—you can’t have power out here anymore.”

Dream closes the distance between them. “You want to know a secret, Tommy? I always had power. I made the waivers because I knew Sam would follow them. I made Ranboo steal the blueprints so Techno could get me out. He’s the reason why the prison went into lockdown in the first place! And Techno—I knew I would use Techno’s favor to break me out. Why do you think I saved it when I could’ve used it to destroy L’Manberg?”

Tommy freezes as Dream grabs his shirt collar and leans in close.

“I always had a plan, Tommy,” Dream continues, “and as long as people continue to listen to me, I always will.”

Tommy swallows and looks past Dream's shoulder, sneaking a glance at the treeline. Even if he did try to make a break for it, the warm, slick blood trickling down his back would stain the snow and make him even easier to hunt down. Plus, his arm's really starting to hurt like a bitch now, and he can't risk fucking up the nerves or some shit and making his sword arm fucking useless.

Rebellion might screw him over in the long run (oh, Prime, please don't let there be a long run), but it might be the only way to save his ass right now.

With herculean effort, Tommy raises his right hand and flips Dream off. "Fuck you!"

Dream merely laughs; the low tone shoots a bolt of terror through Tommy's heart.

“See, that’s why I get to have fun with you. You just don’t give up.”

Dream releases Tommy’s shirt, and he falls, jostling his wounded arm. A pained noise weasels its way out of his throat, and as he tries to scoot away, Dream pins Tommy’s ankle with his heel.

“Don’t leave,” Dream says. “I won, so I get something out of it, don’t I?”

Tommy splutters. “This—this isn’t some sort of game, Dream! You don’t win a prize for being fucking evil!”

Tommy’s stomach churns as Dream’s heel digs into his tendon. He wouldn’t break his ankle or something to keep him from running, right? Dream’s a sick bastard, but even he has to have some limits! No matter what, Dream will still need him to walk.

Dream flips the throwing axe again, drawing Tommy’s attention as he continues. “I could use the Axe of Peace; that could be fun. Battleaxes take a while to clean, though, and I want to wait until you’re at your new home to use it. I could fly you up with my trident and let you go, but it isn’t satisfying if I don’t actually get to watch you die, you know?”

He catches the throwing axe and pauses.

“Oh, I know.” He wipes the axe blade on his pants. “I could use a little more practice with these, don’t you think? You can be my dartboard.”

Fuck, maybe he doesn’t need him to walk.

“Now, Dream? Dream, think about what you’re doing,” Tommy says. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think it is, really,” Dream says. “I told you I was going to put you through hell, Tommy. Maybe after this, you’ll start to understand how you fucked me over.”

Despite his fear, Tommy’s face flickers with confusion. “But you said you always—”

Dream throws the second axe into Tommy’s other shoulder. The blade digs deeper into the flesh than the first and cuts off his thoughts as he lets out an ear-piercing scream. His upper body gives out, and he crumples to the ground, another shriek escaping as the first axe presses against bone, caught between his torso and the ten centimeters of snow giving to packed ground under his weight.

Dream kneels down and peels back the fresh wound with a gloved hand. Tommy kicks his legs out in between choked gasps, but nothing connects.

“Hmm, that’s better, but not exactly what I was aiming for.” Dream pulls out another axe. “Looks like I have to keep practicing.”

As the pain continues, not even adrenaline’s sharp clarity can drown out the fuzziness creeping in, slowing his thoughts to a sluggish stop. He can’t stop shivering, even when pain blooms with each tiny movement. The cold chills the metal blades, freezing the wounds they dig into. Blood soaks through Tommy’s clothes, draining the warmth from his body as it congeals and stains red.

At this rate, perhaps it would be better if Dream killed him. It’d be an end to the pain, and maybe revival would fix some of the damage Dream’s wrought. Maybe Tommy could find relief in the nothing.

Without warning, Dream slaps Tommy’s cheek, whipping his head to the side as the sting ripples across his frostbitten face. (When did he get there?)

“You aren’t even listening anymore, are you?” Dream says, though the words sound muffled despite him getting right in Tommy’s face. “Come on, Tommy, surely you can survive a little longer than that.”

He groans; it’s the most effort he’s able to make.

“Your screams made things difficult, so I guess we’ll have to cut this session short.” Another axe nestles in Dream’s hand; he pulls it back and aims. “I’ll bring you back soon, Tommy. In the meantime, say hi to Ghostbur for me.”

The blade drives into his throat, and with crisp, bittersweet relief, Tommy sinks into the void.

Taglist: @seaswalllow @fear-is-nameless @phantoids @thisisaname-whatahappyname @miishae @shriketrap @sleepypuffpastry @isa-ghost @a-humble-narcissus

[suenitos]

honestly though i would rather not have people hate dream at all but i would rather the kys and i hope he dies posts on a platform he cant see them than the trackers on cars and doxxing 🤷 just me i guess

[daydadahlias]

sometimes i open asks and i just wanna post them w/ this response and nothing else

bc some of y’all really do be saying things to me

[egglands-worst]

obviously not to do with anything regarding the Subtember stuff but I want to point out the anon also mentioned twitter. OP should also have things checked there as much as it's still possible as well

from what they sound like it's likely they migrated here when twitter was taken over by "that guy"

(I know I could do it myself but I'm just an outside observer and rather not want to be thrown into this mess sorry)

gonna tag @submasseptember in this so they can see it, since this seems directed more towards them and you're just contacting me because i replied to the post