#i respect non violent crimes

[lltntbt]

Im listening to my murder podcast and they are covering the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum art heist and i cannot help but go 'The Goldfinch' by every detail.

[rotisseries]

true crime stans and apocalypse preppers. same type of person to me

[diagonal-queen]

Omg you're backkkk<3 I hope uni's going well for you!

Maybe the Hunting Dogs with a s/o who's kind of mean/petty?

Hunting Dogs with a mean S/O

♡ pairing: Fukuchi Ouchi, Jouno Saigiku, Tecchou Suehiro, Teruko Okura (platonic), Tachihara Michizou x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How are the Hunting Dogs with a mean and petty S/O?

♡ cw: Swearing, u r a BULLY >:((, dw it's pretty chill though, non-graphic NSFW with Jouno, teensy bit of NSFW with Tachihara, mentions of violence, crime and torture

note: ahhh hello yes i'm back! uni's pretty great actually. i love being able to tell people i go to law school lmao, it makes me feel smarter than i am. uhh but i've been swamped and a bit busy, and i'm going back home for a week so i might not be super active over the next couple weeks, i'm so sorry my babies </3 but i'll still be lurking in case you wanna chat! as always, apologies for errors and i hope you enjoy x

Fukuchi:

Mf you think he cares?? He hired Jouno and Tachihara because they committed crimes, and he's more than happy to keep Teruko around. Bro doesn't give a FUCK that you're mean

If you're dating Fukuchi you clearly do give a shit about the welfare of society and world peace, so your individual quirks are just that. Quirks

He will fully let you just be a dickhead sometimes, because...like, why not?

I feel like Fukuchi is obviously often a very intimidating individual who strikes fear and commands respect from everyone else. But you? You just walk all over him

In some ways for him it's probably kind of refreshing to have someone around him who doesn't idolise him at all, or look up to him as a superior. It gets exhausting, for sure. Sometimes he just wants to be humbled and that's so okay Fukuchi, you deserve it actually /mean-spirited and condescending

Don't get me wrong it's not like you're an abusive partner! You're still obviously nice to your partner and you love him, but you definitely don't go out of your way to sugarcoat things or try to avoid any necessary confrontations

And Fukuchi genuinely really respects that about you. He's pretty similar like that, though still definitely goofier than you

I mean he won't want you sitting around with an RBF when he's at formal events and whatnot, because that really wouldn't have the best impression, but he's usually very gung ho about letting you be yourself

You're lucky he loves you man...lmao

Jouno:

He loves it. Full stop.

You two are just sadist central over here. Like he'll be torturing a suspect and you're just watching. Bored. Not a care in the world

(Jouno, I don't think you're legally allowed to invite your partner to watch you do your job- much less one like this, but...eh...)

You two are always just talking shit about people to each other, and like when you're out in public on dates you're just whispering to each other and judging people T-T

Lowkey kinda gets turned on when you guys argue. He thinks it's hot when you get heated and angry. Usually it ends in rough "passionate hugging", and the pillowtalk is when you both actually resolve the issue (dumbasses)

He might even purposefully rile you up sometimes because mf is just THAT much of a horny degenerate. You guys can call him classy and gentlemanly all you want, but we all know he's secretly deranged

Like an angry, horny goblin with a knife...someone stop him

Tbh you should probably bully him a little bit every now and then. I think he needs to be taken down a peg sometimes

Hey, he's more likely to listen to you than Tecchou, isn't he? Besides, it's nothing genuinely malicious. Just couple's banter

Oh, you guys are fucking LEGENDS at the couple's banter. Though you never do it in public, because a lot of the times the things you both tell each other as jokes can come off as really cruel jabs

Nah your senses of humour are just not family-friendly (violent and malicious)

You guys have very strange ways of showing your love and affection. But, hey, it works for you and that's what's important :)

Tecchou:

Ah yes, arguably the least meanie of all of the Hunting Dogs. Yeah uh he doesn't really like you at first

Tecchou doesn't understand being mean just for the sake of it. I mean like, for Teruko, she uses it in her career, and Jouno is sadistic and weird and also uses it in his career. You're just petty because you can be

But the more time you spend together the more he realises that you're really not that bad- you're really just more of the loveable asshole type

An acquired taste, yes, but this is Tecchou we're talking about! That's his thing!

He learns to appreciate the things about you that many others would probably consider flaws. He influences you for the better definitely...

...BUT you also kinda make him worse

He will adopt your 'deal with it bitch' attitude sometimes, but it doesn't hinder his relationships or work so it's fiiiiine

(Jouno isn't a huge fan of it though...but at the same time he kind of respects you)

Tecchou probably won't admit it but he really likes to listen to you rant and bitch about people you don't like. He just likes to listen to you be angry about trivial things, he finds it equal parts endearing and entertaining

If you're mean to someone who deserves it? Well I mean...who is he to stop you?

At the end of the day you're definitely emotionally self-sufficient, so that's one less part of you for him to fret over. All's well that ends well or some shit idk

Teruko (platonic):

You guys are literally the best of friends

She's the loud fiery kind of mean and you are the 'I will straight up meticulously ruin your life' kind of mean

You on some r/nuclearrevenge type shit and she fucking loves that for you

Like she's fully willing to plot and scheme with you and do whatever mean shit you suggest. You two are menaces and she should absolutely not be a military soldier

Teruko WILL smite your enemies. And by smite your enemies I mean she will actively do what she can to ruin the lives of people you don't like, with absolutely no remorse (pretty sure she actually commits crimes to do this)

She LIVES for your cruel one-liners and clever insults. Every time she hears one she absolutely hollers

Teruko enjoys it when you're mean to the other Hunting Dogs (except Fukuchi). They can handle a couple bitchy words so it's not a huge deal, but she's just extra amused by it

For the record you're not *mean* mean, you're just...humbling them (which let's be real they could use from time to time (Jouno, again, looking at you))

Nobody is surprised by your guys' friendship really

You're a dangerous pair. Please stop

Teruko kinda likes that you hold grudges so frequently because she'll never tire of hearing you shittalk the same exact people and events over and over again

She'll shittalk them too

Dia doesn't approve of this friendship

Tachihara:

You guys know that scene in B99 where Jake says that he can't decide if he's scared of Amy or turned on by her and then decides that he's both? Yea, that's Tachihara with you

He is a good person at heart, and outside of his mafia gangster persona he's really not that mean, and as such he does not encourage mean behaviour. But like, when you do it? Mm...

Bro is WHIPPED

Lowkey he probably gets some of his mafia persona ideas from you 💀

His mafia coworkers have no questions about how you two get along, and they generally like you. The other Hunting Dogs have a few more questions

Tachihara isn't some shy, quiet introvert, but he is generally pretty chill and a nice person. They like to playfully tease him about how different the two of you are (though if it gets too far he knows he can count on you to rip them a new one with no issue)

Dw they still like you though! Especially Teruko

He has absolutely no problems with you for being cold and blunt. It's nothing he himself can't handle, and in some ways it actually makes talking to you easier

Again, I'll stress that you're not mean to him, you're just not the most lovey-dovey person out there. But you DO put effort in and that's what Tachihara cares about, even if it isn't in a stereotypical way

If anything else, you're certainly loyal!

Tachihara loves you for all of your different eccentricities, and he's also kinda turned on by them. Win-win? Win-win.

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen

[kckt88]

baiser de la mort.

Summary:

'The innocents are always the ones to suffer during times of war'

Aemond and Y.N grieve for the loss of their son.

Warnings - Heavy Angst, Drama, Langauage, Child Loss, References to Death, Grief, Mourning, Mental Health, Delusions, References to Smut, Suicide, Dark Aemond, Mention of Non/Con use of Moontea, Death.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x Y.N

A.N - baiser de la mort - Kiss of death.

Word Count: 4654

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

Y.N stood at the window, her hair unkempt and wild, her eyes glazed with a haunting emptiness as she clutched a blood-stained blanket to her chest.

Her precious son, Aerys, was gone, ripped from her in the most violent of ways. Assassins had come in the dead of night, seeking retribution against her husband, Aemond, for the death of Lucerys.

But it was her innocent boy who had paid the price for his father’s crime.

Y.N couldn’t eat; she couldn’t sleep. She was a mother without her child, her heart shattered beyond repair. The once vibrant woman now stood a ghost of herself, consumed by an unbearable grief that echoed through the silent halls of her home.

The world outside continued on, indifferent to her pain, while she remained frozen in that moment of loss, her soul forever scarred.

Aemond sat with his head bowed and his hands trembling. The weight of his grief pressed down on him, nearly suffocating.

It was his fault, all of it. That fateful day at Storm's End, he had lost his temper. The bitterness and pain over the loss of his eye had reached a boiling point. He had chased after Luke with Vhagar, intending to frighten him, not to kill him.

But Arrax, had attacked first and Vhagar, in her fury, had snatched the two of them out of the sky and torn them to shreds. The image of that violent moment played over and over in Aemond's mind, an endless nightmare from which he could not awaken.

He was sorry for what had happened, but he couldn't take it back and now his son had paid the price for his actions.

He would never forget his wife's screams as she held their son's lifeless body in her arms, her cries of anguish piercing through the night.

Even now, the haunted look in her eyes tore at his soul as she slowly lost herself to the unbearable grief. It was his fault. He had done this.

Aemond's heart ached with a remorse so profound that it seemed to consume him. He could not escape the shadows of his own making, the regret that gnawed at him every waking moment.

His son was gone, and nothing could ever make it right. The price of his anger was too steep, and he would bear the weight of it for the rest of his life.

Aemond's fists clenched at his sides, his eyes burning with a fury that matched the intensity of his grief. His grandsire, stood before him, suggesting with cold pragmatism that they should parade his son's body through the streets of King's Landing.

Aemond could scarcely believe the audacity. How dare he propose such a monstrous display?

"Do you hear yourself?" Aemond spat, his voice trembling with rage. "You wish to parade my son's body through the streets like some grotesque trophy for the smallfolk to gawk at? He was my son, not a pawn in your political games."

Otto's face remained impassive, but his eyes were steely. "The people must see the cost of Rhaenyra's ambition, Aemond. They need to know who is responsible for this tragedy."

"It wasn't her," Aemond growled, his voice breaking. "It was me. I killed Luke-I drew first blood”

In the end he was persuaded by his mother, to allow his son's body to be paraded through the city.

The procession moved slowly, the atmosphere thick with sorrow and tension. The streets were lined with citizens who stood in quiet respect.

They watched as flower petals were scattered in the air, a delicate contrast to the grim reality of the event. The petals fell gently, almost mockingly, on the solemn parade.

In a dark carriage that followed the procession, Y.N sat hunched beside Alicent. Her gaze was distant, fixed on some unfathomable point in the space before her.

She wore the grief like a cloak, her face an ashen mask of silent torment. The parade’s spectacle did nothing to pierce her numb shell; she remained unresponsive, lost in her sorrow.

When the procession finally reached the pyre, Aemond, his face pale and drawn, gave the command to Vhagar, with a voice that trembled but held a resolute edge.

The dragon's fiery breath ignited the pyre, sending a column of flame skyward. The flames consumed the pyre with a fierce, unrelenting hunger, and the smoke billowed up into the grey sky, carrying the last remnants of their son away.

Even then, amid the crackling fire and the tears of onlookers, Y.N remained silent. She did not react to the sight of her child's remains being turned to ash. Her grief had rendered her mute, a mother broken beyond the reach of words.

The chasm between him and his wife, Y.N., grew wider by the day, an abyss of grief and guilt that he couldn't bridge.

Once, they had shared a good marriage. Aemond had been hesitant to take a wife, but she had been kind and patient. She listened to him, held him, loved him. And he had loved her in return.

They had often indulged in the pleasures of the marriage bed, Aemond loved nothing more than devouring her sweet cunny until she cried and screamed his name and then sheathing himself within her warm wet heat.

Given the frequency in which he spilled his seed inside her they were blessed with their son. Such a little thing he was, but so perfect, his silver hair and amethyst eyes.

Now, his son was gone, and so was the woman he loved. Y.N. wouldn't look at him, wouldn't speak to him.

She had stopped taking care of herself, spending hours staring out of the window, still clutching their son's bloodied blanket. Aemond felt a deep, helpless frustration. He wanted to help her, to reach out and pull her from the abyss, but he didn't know how.

Otto's suggestion had only poured salt into the wound. Exploiting his son's death for political gain had been abhorrent to him. But he had given in and allowed the spectacle and he felt even worse for it.

He approached the window where Y.N. stood, her gaze distant and unfocused. He reached out, his hand hovering just above her shoulder, but he couldn't bring himself to touch her. The distance between them seemed insurmountable.

"Y.N.," he whispered, his voice filled with a sorrow so deep it felt like it would swallow him whole. "I'm so sorry. I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to help you."

But there was no response, no flicker of recognition in her eyes. She was lost to him, just as their son was lost to them both.

The war between Aegon's Greens and Rhaenyra's Blacks raged on, each day bringing new horrors.

Amidst the chaos, Y.N.'s behaviour began to change in unsettling ways. She started talking as if their son, Aerys, was still alive. She would call for him, her voice filled with a desperate longing.

"Aerys, where are you my sweet? Come to your mother," she would say, her eyes scanning the room as if expecting him to appear at any moment.

Aemond's heart ached each time he heard her. He would gently try to remind her of the painful truth.

"Y.N., Aerys is gone," he would say softly, his voice breaking with sorrow.

But she would turn on him, eyes blazing with anger and confusion. "Why are you saying such things? It's a cruel joke, Aemond. Our sweet boy is still alive. Stop tormenting me."

The tension between them grew, Aemond's helplessness deepening with each passing day. He watched as his wife slipped further from reality, her mind a fractured mirror reflecting the past and present in a chaotic swirl.

There were moments when she would remember, and those moments were the most heartbreaking of all.

She would collapse, her screams of grief echoing through the halls, chilling everyone who heard them. "He's gone! My baby is gone!" she would wail, her voice raw and ragged.

Aemond would hold her then, rocking her back and forth, trying to offer comfort where there was none to be found.

The once vibrant woman he had loved was now a shadow of herself, caught in an endless cycle of denial and despair.

Aemond struggled to maintain his composure, the weight of his guilt and sorrow threatening to crush him. He was fighting a war on two fronts: one against their enemies, and one within the walls of their home.

In the rare quiet moments, Aemond would sit by Y.N.'s side, his hand gently holding hers. "I wish I could bring him back," he would whisper, his voice filled with a pain that mirrored her own. "I would give anything to see him again, to see you smile."

But Y.N. would simply look at him with vacant eyes, lost in a world where her son was still alive, and her heart wasn't shattered.

Aemond knew he had to be strong for both of them, to navigate the war outside and the turmoil within. Yet, with each passing day, he feared the war would take them both before they could ever find peace.

Y.N.'s descent into madness grew more volatile with each passing day. Her grief and confusion often turned into fits of rage, and Aemond often bore the brunt of it.

She would lash out at him, her hands striking him with a surprising force, her screams echoing through the halls.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she would cry, her voice filled with anguish. "Why are you letting this happen? Bring Aerys back! Bring my son back!"

There were times when the guards had to restrain her, their gentle attempts to subdue her only making her struggles more frantic. "Let me go! I want my baby! Aemond, make them stop!" she would scream, her eyes wild with desperation.

Aemond stood helpless, watching as his beloved wife was held back, her mind lost in a labyrinth of sorrow and rage. The sight of her, once so composed and loving, now so broken and tormented, tore at his heart. He longed to reach her, to pull her back from the brink, but he didn't know how.

In the midst of this turmoil, his grandsire approached him with a proposition that made Aemond's blood boil.

"Perhaps it would be best to send Y.N. away," Otto suggested, his tone coldly pragmatic. "She could become a septa, and we could annul the marriage. You could form new alliances that would strengthen our position in the war."

Aemond's anger flared, his fists clenching at his sides. "I will not set her aside," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I have already lost my son; I will not lose her too. And I certainly won't allow you to use me to forge alliances elsewhere."

Otto's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more. He turned and left, leaving Aemond to wrestle with his despair and his resolve.

He knew that his wife's condition was deteriorating, but he refused to abandon her. She had been his strength, his confidant, and his love. He could not—would not—let her go.

Returning to Y.N.'s side, Aemond knelt before her, his heart breaking at the sight of her tear-streaked face. "I'm here, Y.N.," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm not going anywhere. We'll find a way through this. I promise you."

But her eyes, once so full of life and love, were vacant and unseeing. She murmured incoherent apologies, pleading to be a good wife, to make things right, not understanding that the world around her had irrevocably changed.

Aemond gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly as she wept. He vowed to himself that he would protect her, that he would fight for her.

The war outside was brutal, but the war within their hearts was even more so. And in this, Aemond knew he had to stand strong, for both of them.

Aemond stood in the doorway, his heart heavy as he watched Y.N. sitting cross-legged on the floor. She was speaking softly, her voice carrying a gentle, loving tone that once filled their home with warmth and joy. Now, it only brought a deep, aching sadness.

"Aerys, you did so well in your lessons today," she praised, her eyes fixed on an empty spot before her. "I'm so proud of you, my sweet boy."

Aemond swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. He wanted to reach out to her, to pull her back to reality, but he knew it would only cause her more pain. She turned to him then, her eyes filled with a desperate hope.

"Aemond, aren't you proud of our son?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Aemond nodded weakly, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, Y.N.," he said softly. "I'm very proud of him."

She smiled, a brief flicker of the woman she once was. Aemond's heart shattered anew, the weight of his guilt and sorrow pressing down on him like a crushing tide.

He watched as she continued speaking to their son who wasn't there, her words a mix of encouragement and gentle admonishments.

"Aerys, remember to practice your letters. Your father and I know you can do it. You're such a clever boy," she said, her eyes shining with a love that was now directed at a ghost.

Aemond felt a deep, gnawing helplessness. He couldn't bring Aerys back, and he couldn't pull Y.N. from the abyss of her grief.

All he could do was be there, a silent witness to her pain, hoping against hope that somehow, they would find a way to heal.

For now, he would nod and smile, pretending along with her, because it was the only way he could offer her any semblance of comfort. And as she spoke to their son who wasn't there, Aemond silently vowed to stand by her, even if she never truly returned to him.

Aemond was seated at the council table, his mind only half-focused on the discussion of troop movements and supply lines, the Velaryon blockade in the Gullet was proving troublesome and food was becoming scarce.

His brother had suggested taking Vhagar and Sunfyre to burn the blockade, but their mother and grandsire urged caution.

Citing the dangers of unleashing the dragons during the war and the devastation they would reign down from the skies.

But he as only half listening, his thoughts were constantly with Y.N., wondering how she was faring in his absence. Suddenly, the door to the chamber swung open, and a guard hurried in, his face pale and anxious.

"Prince Aemond," the guard said, bowing quickly. "It's your wife, Y.N. She's—she's wandering the halls, calling for your son."

Aemond's heart sank. He rose abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Where is she now?" he demanded.

"The gardens, my Prince."

Without another word, Aemond left the council meeting, striding quickly through the corridors, his heart pounding.

As he approached the gardens, he could hear Y.N.'s voice, tinged with a frantic desperation.

"Aerys? Aerys, where are you, my sweet boy? Come to mummy!" she called, her voice trembling.

He found her among the flowers, her hair a wild mess, her bare feet dirty from the garden paths. She was dressed only in her nightgown, her eyes wide and searching.

She turned in circles, her hands outstretched as if she could catch hold of their son if she just reached far enough.

"Y.N.," Aemond called gently, stepping towards her. She didn't seem to hear him, her attention entirely focused on the invisible presence of Aerys.

"Come to mummy”

Aemond moved closer, reaching out to take her hand. "Y.N., it's me, Aemond. Let's go back to our chambers."

She looked at him then, her expression shifting from hope to confusion. "Aemond? But Aerys—he's calling for me. I need to find him."

He swallowed hard, his grip on her hand gentle but firm. "I know, my love. But it's time to come inside. We can look for him together later."

Tears welled up in her eyes, her panic giving way to a heartbreaking vulnerability. "I’m a good mother. I just want to find my baby."

"I know," Aemond whispered, his own eyes filling with tears. "You're the best mother. Let's go inside now, please."

Slowly, she allowed him to guide her back through the halls, her steps hesitant and reluctant. He kept a protective arm around her, his heart aching with every step.

As they reached their chambers, he helped her sit down on the bed, her fingers still clutching at his hand as if he were her lifeline.

"Rest now, Y.N.," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I’m here. I won’t leave you."

She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting a flicker of recognition and trust. "Promise?"

"Promise," he said, his voice firm despite the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him.

As she lay down, Aemond sat beside her, holding her hand until she finally drifted into a troubled sleep. He watched over her, his resolve hardening. He would protect her, care for her, and love her through this madness, no matter how long it took. He had already lost his son; he could not lose his wife too.

Sometimes, Y.N. seemed to come back to herself. Her eyes would clear, and for a brief moment, the woman Aemond had loved so dearly would return.

On those rare occasions, she would look at him with a haunting clarity, her voice trembling as she asked, "Aemond, have I gone mad?"

Aemond would hold her close, his heart breaking anew each time. "No, my love. You're not mad. You're grieving. We're both grieving."

But no matter how he tried to comfort her, the moments of lucidity were fleeting. Soon enough, she would lose herself again, retreating into the depths of her sorrow and delusion.

One night, Aemond woke with a start, his heart pounding in the darkness. He reached out, but Y.N. wasn't beside him.

Panic gripped him as he looked around the room, his eyes finally settling on the open window. Y.N. stood there, her nightgown fluttering in the cool breeze, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the walls of their chamber.

"Y.N.," he called softly, rising from the bed. "What are you doing?"

She turned to him; her face illuminated by the moonlight. "I can hear Aerys," she said, her voice filled with a desperate longing. "He's calling for me. I need to go to him. I need to be a good mother."

Fear surged through Aemond as he crossed the room in quick strides, his hands reaching out to take hold of her. "No, Y.N.," he said firmly, pulling her away from the window. "Aerys is gone. You can't go to him."

She struggled against his grip, her eyes wild with grief and confusion. "But he's calling for me-can’t you hear him?”

Aemond's temper flared, the weight of his own sorrow and guilt crashing down on him. "Aerys is dead!" he shouted, his voice cracking with anguish. "He's not coming back!”

The words hung in the air, a bitter truth that neither of them could escape. Y.N. stopped struggling, her eyes widening in shock.

Aemond fell to his knees, his body wracked with sobs as he finally gave in to the overwhelming grief that had consumed him since their son's death.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, his hands covering his face. "I'm so sorry, Y.N. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I don’t know how to stop this pain-I don’t know how to make it go away”

Y.N. knelt beside him, her own tears falling silently. She gently stroked his head, her fingers running through his long silver hair in a soothing gesture.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered, her voice fragile but filled with a deep, abiding love. "We'll find a way through this. Together."

As the war progressed, the Battle of Rook's Rest had left Aegon grievously injured.

In the aftermath, Aemond was named Prince Regent, a heavy mantle he bore with a sense of duty and an unspoken grief that never quite left him.

Yet, amid the chaos of war, there were glimmers of hope. Y.N. seemed to come back to herself a little more each day.

They had began to lay with other again, the first time since their sons death had been slow and gentle, with Aemond trying to savour the feeling of his wife’s wet heat wrapped around him again.

But as the days went on, the physical intimacy of their relationship became something more, it became a brief distraction from their shared grief and more often not, Aemond would find himself pounding inside his wife with a series of deep penetrating thrusts.

He would take any opportunity he could to be inside her, no matter if it was in their shared chambers, the gardens or even the council room.

Things seemed like they were changing, that maybe the cloud of darkness was finally lifting, that maybe there was chance.

But one day, when Aemond was deep in discussion, making plans to take back Harrenhal. The room buzzing with the urgency of war strategies a guard burst in, panic written across his face.

“Your Grace, it's Y.N. She's at the window and she won't come down."

Aemond's heart sank, dread clawing at his chest. He thought things were getting better, that they were slowly healing.

But as he raced back to his chambers, a cold fear gripped him. He should have known better. He shouldn't have fooled himself into thinking it would be that easy.

Bursting into the room, he saw Y.N. standing on the ledge of the window, her hair blowing wildly in the wind, her eyes distant and unfocused. His breath caught in his throat.

"Y.N.!" he called, trying to keep his voice steady. "Come back inside. It's dangerous."

She turned to him, her expression a mix of sorrow and resolve. "I-I’m with child again," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't want to lose this babe like we lost Aerys. I want to be a good mother, to protect my child."

Aemond took a step closer, his hands outstretched. "I will do everything in my power to ensure our child's safety. Please, Y.N., come back inside."

But her eyes darkened with a painful clarity. "Had you done that before, Aerys would still be alive. How can I trust you to keep your promise now?"

Aemond's heart broke at her words, the weight of his guilt crashing down on him. "Please," he begged, his voice cracking. "I can't lose you too. I need you."

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "I can hear Aerys. He calls for me."

Before he could react, she let go of the window ledge.

Time seemed to slow as Aemond lunged forward, his scream of anguish tearing through the air. He reached out, but it was too late. Y.N. fell, her figure disappearing from sight.

Aemond's scream of horror reverberated through the chamber as he raced to the window, his heart pounding in his chest.

He looked down and saw Y.N.'s body splayed on the ground, unmoving.

He lurched back from the window, his legs carrying him faster than they ever had.

Aemond tore through the corridors, the screams of maids and ladies echoing around him as the reality of what had just happened spread like wildfire.

Bursting outside, Aemond fell to his knees beside Y.N. The blood pooling around her, spilling in different directions.

Never had he seen so much blood in his life.

His hands shook as he reached down gently, lifting her into his arms. Her warm sticky blood staining his clothes and skin.

“Y.N” sobbed Aemond.

Y.N.'s eyes fluttered open, and she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. "I can see him, Aemond. I can see our sweet boy-he’s here"

Tears streamed down Aemond's face as he held her close, his voice breaking. "Go to him, Y.N. Be a good mother. Be with our son, he needs you"

A faint smile touched her lips as she looked up at him, her gaze softening. "I love you," she whispered, her breath faltering.

"I love you too," Aemond choked out, his heart breaking with every word.

Y.N.'s eyes closed, and with a final, shuddering breath, she passed away in his arms.

Aemond held her tightly, his body shaking with sobs as the world around him seemed to crumble. The weight of his grief and guilt was unbearable, the loss of his wife and son a wound that would never heal.

The days following Y.N.'s funeral were a descent into madness for Aemond. The raw, unhealed wound of his grief festered into something dark and malignant.

In the wake of her loss, he marched on Harrenhal, his heart consumed by rage and a desperate need for retribution. On the way many houses in the Riverlands fell to him like a storm, his soldiers cutting down anyone in their path.

Soon houses were nothing more than charred ruins, echoing with the screams of the dying and the roar of Vhagar as he laid waste to those who dared to raise their banners for Rhaenyra.

At Harrenhal, he slaughtered everyone he could find, his blade never without the stain of blood.

Alys Rivers was the only one spared, left to wander amidst the wreckage of the charred ruin she called home.

Aemond's heart was a cauldron of fury, his every action a reflection of the unrelenting torment he felt inside.

The memory of Y.N. and their son haunted him, their spectral forms appearing in his dreams and shadows, reaching out to him but slipping away before he could touch them.

Each night was a cycle of torment, their voices echoing in his ears, demanding answers he could not give.

In a desperate attempt to quell his rage and sorrow, Aemond turned to Alys. Their encounters were brutal and dispassionate, a violent outpouring of grief and anger.

He would not look upon her face as he sheathed his cock inside her, and he would not kiss her. Each time he lay with her, he was left feeling sickened, the physical act a poor substitute for the love and solace he had lost.

In his dreams, Y.N.'s spirit raged at him, her face twisted in anguish and betrayal, accusing him of infidelity and disrespect.

The final blow came when Alys revealed that she carried his child. The news was a knife to his heart, a reminder of all that he had lost and could not reclaim. In his torment, Aemond could not bear the thought of this new life, a product of his grief and anger.

In a cold, ruthless act, he had seized Alys and forced moontea down her throat, she had raged and struggled against him, but he was unmoved. His gloved hand pressed over her nose and mouth to ensure the child would never see the light of day.

He was no longer who he used to be, his heart and soul lost to the void of grief, he had become a monster and there was nothing left for him anymore.

Once she had recovered from the loss of her babe, Alys had cursed his name and he welcomed it.

Even as he mounted Vhagar, seeking a final confrontation with Daemon, and Caraxes. The two dragons clashing in a maelstrom of fire and fury, their roars shaking the heavens.

Amidst the chaos, he heard Y.N.'s voice again, softer this time, calling for him. Her voice was a haunting melody of love and loss, drawing him closer to an end he didn’t want to escape.

He reached out, feeling her ethereal touch, the blade plunging through his skull, and as the darkness closed in, he felt Y.N.'s hand in his.

[rivkae-winters]

Zack Fair, Violence, and Tragedy

Over the last month or two I’ve seen several posts about the nature of Zack Fair’s tragedy and his seeming heel-toe-turn and thought I’d chime in. 

Also like last time: this is only my interpretation of canon, there is no one true analysis to take as gospel. If you disagree/differ in opinion/even just want to talk please reblog or dm! I enjoy talking to other people about this sort of thing, fandom is all about discussion after all!

While I agree with the sentiment I’ve seen going around that Zack’s relationship to violence plays a role there are other nuances and factors at play here. I’d argue that it’s more accurate to say that Zack is becoming more aware of personal and professional culture outside of SOLDIER and outside of both ShinRa’s constraining grip and Angeal’s attempts at protection. Even then it takes great personal tragedy caused by the inherent contradictions of ShinRa’s reality for him to realize that he has functionally been on the wrong side.  

Sure he’s not callous like Cloud is in the beginning of original and Remake, but he certainly isn’t horrified at his actions just because there is violence. I’d argue the violence of his actions isn’t the main horror to him in isolation. I’d argue that even the death that results from violence isn’t what the core of the issue is either. 

Zack’s hinging point is more his loyalty and his pride. What he does for other people and what he believes in and of himself. Specifically these things in conjunction with his desire to be a good person. 

The language of Pride, the non-localized direct translation of the word hokori or 誇り(JP CC Script), is what’s going to be used here rather than Honor. 

誇り | Hokori - To take pride in; To boast of

Definition Sources: 1, 2, 3

Just keep in mind that I’ve written this from as neutral a point of view as possible on the matter of pride since the Western perception definitively does not apply. To be proud is not a crime and it is not foolish it simply is. 

Zack initially places his pride in SOLDIER- in what being a SOLDIER means to him. In how being a SOLDIER is his and that they are his people and thus he lets ShinRa policies define how he frames his morality. Thus ShinRa defines good in Zack Fair’s life. 

Zack wants to be a hero. He wants to help people. He is trusting and kind and respectful to people consistently outside of the conflict of the mass desertion. Zack genuinely wants to be a good person and help other people, good or otherwise. He is led to believe by ShinRa propaganda that the best way to help people or to be anything meaningful in this world is through them. This is a baited trap that he falls into, Zack is prime prey this trap was intended to catch. 

He is angry at Genesis and horrified by Angeal, especially at the beginning, not for cruelty or violence or even really death… He is angry at them for their betrayal. Sure he is violent and angry in the instance he thinks Angeal has murdered his own mother, as with Genesis and his parents, but that does not define his antagonism, his hatred, his regret, his sense of justice with them at all. 

 Zack does not raise his sword at Genesis for the people of Banora, he raises his sword for SOLDIER. 

Zack understandably feels, and has been, betrayed. 

He is hurt and angry and alone in a way he’s never been since he got into the SOLDIER program. He falls deeper into the illusions of ShinRa for that reason, angry and hurting and grieving the life he had with people in it who will never return. There is a deep sense of nostalgia throughout Crisis Core in the sense of the word’s initial meaning: the pain of missing home. Specifically the homes we find in people.

Even as he believes in ShinRa's twisted reality Zack wants to help. He wants to protect those he cares for. Zack wants to be good. Unfortunately in Zack Fair’s life the undisputed definition of good is now written by the ShinRa Electric Power Corporation alone.

Then he meets Aerith. 

Suddenly ShinRa’s version of right and wrong have opposition but the control that ShinRa has over his life, total and complete as it is, prevents that from sinking in. Zack is perceptive though, around Aerith he is her version of good and then he has to go back to what equates to his phase of reality. A sanctuary is not safe, not truly, when watchers are peering in through the back door ready to drag you out by your feet if you misstep. 

Zack wants to be a man Aerith or anyone won’t be scared of. He wants to do that not because he is suddenly horrified at his own violence but rather in consideration of others. Zack is highly empathetic after all once he can see someone else’s perspective. He wants to be what Aerith wants, even if he doesn’t really and truly understand it yet, because he cares about her and cares about her opinion. He cares about her comfort. Zack still puts most of his pride within SOLDIER though. That means that Aerith’s morals cannot sink through his skin to his center, not like Angeal’s had. She makes him think but she is not shaping his mind, he is left to do that himself.

 Zack spends a lot of time questioning Angeal and being upset at and about him off screen even more than on screen. We don’t get a front row seat for all of it. The big takeaway is that Zack doesn’t shed Angeal’s morals that he’s taken on himself. He can’t after all, not with ShinRa only just seeming tarnished. ShinRa would need to rust and crumble fully before he actually can let them go. Before he can be free in his own mind.

ShinRa chips and rusts in an instant under Sephiroth’s hand. The last holdout crumbled in the fight of two victims of ShinRa and someone who will become one soon. ShinRa is no longer the defined of good, not after what Zack sees is the response to the Nibelheim Incident.

ShinRa not being good, worse even ShinRa being bad breaks the entire morality system. The illusions crack and Zack is forced to examine himself, his actions, and his biases in ways Aerith made him want to but that he couldn’t afford to truly indulge in. Even more that he was scared of self introspection in a sense, of the paradigm of his reality shifting even further. 

He eventually truly reframes his actions and has to reckon with them (and himself) at the end of the game, chapter 9 and onwards. It is only then that he actually LOOKS and is fully horrified by what he sees of himself. That horror only progresses as he fights for both his and Cloud’s lives. That horror only builds as he realizes he’s exactly the person who his girlfriend SHOULD be terrified of despite his best attempts- that he’s everything she was talking about. He’s everything she was talking about even after trying to change the way he acts around her. 

To abuse the innate metaphors: Zack Fair goes to Nibelheim, a well trained attack dog, still seeing relatively little wrong with fulfilling ShinRa’s orders. Zack is only then on the cusp of figuring out that he does not want to be there, that he is the antagonist of the planet’s (and Aerith’s) story unwittingly. 

Zack Fair leaves Nibelheim beaten. He tries to go back to the safety of what was once his home prior to ShinRa only to be waylaid. 

Zack Fair leaves Banora free and irrevocably changed. 

He is free in the sense that the illusions he held himself too are crumbling even more with knowledge that his demons are men too. He is free through the knowledge that he is one of those demons. , that he has been shaped to be one, and that good intentions pave a terribly walkable path to hell. 

Zack leaves with the knowledge that he was the monster in the closet. The knowledge that his sword was not just the executioner’s blade but the enforcer’s. The sword kept clean in favor of bloody hands and higher risks is now drowning in pools of it. Zack leaves with the knowledge that he never would have been truly free. 

Yet he is in the sense that he can choose- actually choose- what he wants, what he values. He chooses Aerith and he chooses Cloud as he has each time before. He chooses violence. It is something he knows and among what he is good at. It is not all he is but it is a tool he can use. 

He chooses to pay the price of freedom. 

Crisis Core is a tragedy and Zack and Genesis both are tragic figures at its center. Zack’s arc is angled to the viewer for maximum effect but Genesis’s does mirror it in a way just on an offset path already initiated. Sephiroth is also a tragic character, undeniably so. However structure wise his role is more murky given the way he has the ability to be the god waiting in the machine, a guaranteed victory or unavoidable altered trajectory should he choose to act, for most of the story. 

And that’s a large part of why I love Zack as a character, aside from things I’ve said before about what makes him such a good narrator. Zack is the unlucky prodigy at the center of a story about wars, abusers, connections, and perspectives. He wants to be good, he wants to be a person that helps. 

He can’t, not really, not in the way he wants. 

Crisis Core is a cautionary tale about exactly that going wrong and how anyone can be taken advantage of. 

[banjjakz]

serial bereavement ; yuuta x gn/f!reader

Every first Thursday for the past six months, without fail, a single plot of ashes has been unlawfully exhumed from the cemetery behind Joenji Temple.

Or: As a rookie hire, you are partnered with Investigations Section 1 Officer Okkotsu Yuuta to investigate a law-defying, bone-chilling, uniquely disturbing case of obsessive love that threatens to shut down the entirety of Shinjuku.

part i. word count: 5.2k

warnings: rating & warnings WILL change; part i of iii; reader is referred to with she/her pronouns & has a vagina & breasts, but is never addressed with gendered titles [e.g.: "ms.," "lady," etc.]; eventual smut that is dubcon at best; horror-romance, in that order; themes of psychosexual horror; side satosugu [non-essential to plot]; i cannot overstate how abnormal this one is, even for me

the content of this fictional work is inspired by the video game "collar x malice" which belongs to the original rightful owners. i do not own or claim to own the rights to the collar x malice franchise. this written work does not represent the intentions, actions, or thoughts of any of the creators/owners of the "collar x malice" franchise.

‪♡‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬

likes♡ / reblogs ↻ appreciated!

Every first Thursday for the past six months, without fail, a single plot of ashes has been unlawfully exhumed from the cemetery behind Joenji Temple.

The first incident was thought to be a freak accident, one of those strange, wild card crimes that confound local police and commandeer national attention. Pictures of the desecrated grave ravaged internet forums for weeks thereafter, sending chills down the backs of even the most stoutly atheist Japanese youth. An already horrific occurrence worsened all the more with the repeated presence of a seemingly random signature: there, at the bottom of the grave, in the very deepest point of the aged, black soil, laid a folded handwritten note. Upon unfurling the crisp creases, the Shinjuku Police Force Special Crimes Unit discovered that these were actually letters.

Love letters, to be exact.

Presumably penned by the perp, the characters were neat and clean – almost feminine in nature. So strong was the desire imbued into these letters that it seemed as though each individual brush stroke contained one thousand sonnets of unceasing, burning ardor. Clearly, the perpetrator yearned for the attention of their beloved.

That they would go to great lengths – immoral lengths, even – for just a three-minute story on the evening news, all so that their beloved might idly overhear the report as they prepare their dinner, idly chopping radishes to the soundtrack of a violent confession woefully fallen upon their deaf ears…

Well. It makes you squirm. You suppose that’s the point.

As a fresh-faced rookie of the Special Regions Crime Prevention Office, this is your first time on the job in the midst of such a sensational case. At first, your department was unsure how to label these crimes: neither killings nor injuries were incurred, and yet, the spiritual damage effected by the robbing of a Buddhist shrine’s graveyard was somehow worse than any brutal homicide. Eventually, the commissioner labeled these incidents as “Serial Bereavements” out of respect to the families whose deceased loved ones had been wrongfully removed from their final resting place.

After the first offense, local news stations reported the anomalous crime with a sick sort of fascination. Lovesickness was no foreigner in Japan, and although many screwed their faces up at the morbid displays of affection, so too did just as many turn up the volume on their televisions and lean just a few centimeters closer, eyes glazed with blue light, horror, mortification, and arousal.

After the second and third offenses, it was obvious that a pattern was beginning to emerge. Both incidents occurred on the first Thursday of the month, and both incidents were signed with the same achingly forlorn pages of desperation. In fear of exacerbating the perpetrator, or inspiring copycats, news stations and publications were not permitted to release the contents of the letters.

After the fourth offense, protests began to congregate outside of the Shinjuku Police Station, demanding an immediate and swift correction of the police’s incompetency in addressing the issue. When the first set of ashes had been disturbed, cherry blossoms still clung to the trees. By this time it was July, and the harsh glare of the summer sun beat unrelentingly upon the earth, as though reprimanding its inhabitants.

After the fifth offense, a special curfew was instated for all residents of the Shinjuku ward. No persons for any reason were to be out past eleven o’clock at night. This was punishable by immediate apprehension for questioning. The law was martial, but the law was necessary. Or so the commissioner claimed.

After the sixth offense, the police began looking inwardly, suspecting members of its own ranks. There was no possible way that a civilian could have been able to penetrate the immense security measures installed to secure the Joenji cemetery. Ropes and ropes of caution tape, nearly 24/7 surveillance, and daily K-9 rounds were still not enough to halt the perpetrator in their tracks. This could only mean one thing:

An inside job.

“Scary,” shivers Ieiri, mockingly, lips curled in a sardonic smirk around the length of her unlit cigarette. “You hear they think it’s one of us?”

You regularly have lunch with Ieiri Shoko, director of the Forensics department. She is as caustic as she is jaded, having served in an underrecognized role for far too long, wasting her prolific talents in an obscure government position with little excitement – save for, of course, highly-charged periods of reoccurring atrocities, such as the current case of the Serial Bereavements.

“Don’t even joke. We should be taking this seriously…”

The cooling September breeze has you huddling into your knees a little further. Enjoying lunch on the rooftop was a treat while it was still summer. But now, September has just torn a new page in your calendar and has brought with it an uncharacteristically crisp cold snap. It is Tuesday, the second.

“I’m sooooo serious,” Ieiri says after taking a rather dramatically prolonged drag from the now-lit cig. “Couldn’t be any more serious. Brr.”

Usually, Ieiri’s dry humor is an effective, if transient, salve to your ever-festering anxiety. But today is an exception.

“Please, just think about it for a second... To think that any one of the people we work with every day could be committing such heinous crimes…and for a romantic obsession, no less…it doesn’t frighten you?”

Ieiri exhales smoke, puffing lazily like a sated dragon draped over its hoard. “Nah. I seriously doubt anyone in our ward has the balls.”

Her vulgarity makes you blush. You’ve always been easy to fluster. “Ieiri-san!”

“How many times have I told you to just call me by my first name… jeez.” She ruffles your hair without even an ounce of care for how it makes you groan in consternation. “Too polite for your own good. Someone is going to take advantage of that, one day. And then where will you be? Calling for Ieiri-san to come save you?”

Somewhere, she’s strayed from the path of lighthearted teasing. You still under the weight of her calloused palm, peering curiously up at her through your lashes. “Um…well…”

And as soon as her touch had manifested upon you, just as quickly is it yanked away. “Anyways, call me whatever you like. Not like it matters, anyway.”

“I guess not…”

The rest of your lunch is finished in an unstable silence. Her final, rhetorical question rolls around in your mind, impressing itself upon your malleable brain tissue: Calling for Ieiri-san to save you?

But when would you need saving?

You’re a police officer, after all. You can take care of yourself.

If you couldn’t, why would you serve as an officer in the first place?

;

On the following Monday – the third of September – the director of the Investigations Unit summons you to the fifth floor.

After a polite (terrified) bow, you enter Investigations HQ. “Hello.” Please do not fire me. Please do not transfer me. Please do not publicly reprimand me. Please do not—

“Ah, thank you for coming. Wow, what a deep bow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a perfectly geometrical ninety degrees.”

Face burning, you avert your gaze to the marble floor. “Ummm…”

You’ve heard that the chief of Investigations, Gojo Satoru was an eccentric fellow, passing in and out as he pleased through the station, hanging off of the director like a second skin. It should come as no surprise that he is here to greet you, today. And yet, still does your thin skin prickle with humiliation, with shame.

Geto Suguru, director of Investigations, cuts in before his partner can continue. “Leave her alone, Satoru. She’s shaking. Are you doing alright today, officer?”

Embarrassed, you nod. Great. It hasn’t even been a full sixty seconds and you’re already embarrassing yourself in front of your superiors.

“Alright, alright. I’ll lay off. Only ‘cuz you asked, though! Hehe.”

“I’ve summoned you today to invite you to join a special taskforce,” Geto continues, unperturbed by Gojo’s wily eyebrow wiggles. “This taskforce will use unique means to investigate the Joenji Serial Bereavements.”

Your blood is paralyzed in your veins, cowed by the enormity of this proposal. “Sir…?”

“In the short amount of time since you’ve joined the Shinjuku Police Department, your conduct has been nothing but outstanding. You’re capable and damn impressive. And frankly speaking, officer, we need a fresh set of eyes on this case.”

There’s nothing else you could possibly say other than: “I would be humbled to join. Thank you.”

“Great, knew we could count on you. We’re keeping the taskforce small for confidentiality’s sake. You’ll be working with one other partner: Officer Okkotsu Yuuta from Investigations Section 1.”

That name… why do you know that name?

Then it hits you: Okkotsu Yuuta is the name whispered through the halls of the police department with awe, envy, admiration, and – occasionally – fear. He is a legendary detective with prowess in both tactical as well as strategical measures. His presence is felt rather than seen, as he is scarcely spotted within the physical walls of the department. However, what does not tangibly appear is nonetheless ever-present in whispered rumors and glamorized notoriety.

“O-Okkotsu-san…” you stammer, taken aback. “But…I’m sorry, sir. I don’t mean to question your judgement, but why have I been chosen to pair with Okkotsu-san?”

“Oh! He specifically requested—”

Gojo’s cheerful sentence is curtailed by a swift elbow to the ribs. While he recovers, Geto finishes the thought, “Okkotsu has requested to be paired with a rookie for this assignment to personally train them. Something about ‘personally ensuring the longevity of the Shinjuku police force,’ or the like. What a do-gooder, am I right?”

“Okay,” you respond, uncertain.

“Your first matter of business will be a visitation to the Joenji graveyard to look for any new leads. You leave in one hour. Okkotsu will meet you downstairs, in front of the building. Good luck!”

In a daze, you bow deeply once more. “Thank you. I will be sure to work hard.”

;

Unsure of what to expect, you linger in front of the armed entrance to the building, trying your best not to shift your weight from foot to foot in an obviously apparent display of anxiety.

It’s not that you’re the type to be starstruck! You are a sensible, no-nonsense, down-to-earth person. Celebrities have never appealed to you much, and idol culture continues to confound you.

In light of this, it’s quite difficult to explain the visceral, full-body reaction you have when you meet Officer Okkotsu Yuuta for the first time.

He is not superbly handsome. Good-looking enough to get street-casted? Sure. With some minor work, he might even be the jewel visual for an up-and-coming boy group. Young and fit, he is the picture of an officer steadily approaching the peak of their hotshot years. Plain, dark hair falls on either side of his forehead in a lopsided part, and his uniform is buttoned and put together, if only a little wrinkled. All in all, he is an average, considerably attractive young man in the Shinjuku police force.

And yet.

Eyes like pools of obsidian tether you to the spot like a spell has been cast upon your bones. Enchanted, your lips part, but no sounds slips through. The intrusive, overstimulating soundtrack of Shinjuku rush hour traffic fades to little more than background noise as your senses are held hostage by the void of quiet, negative space in the shape of a young man that stands in front of you.

His bow is deep and overly formal. He’s technically your superior… and definitely a senior-ranking officer. “A pleasure to meet you,” he announces to the concrete ground “I’m Okkotsu Yuuta, Investigations Section 1.”

“N-nice to meet you, Okkotsu-senpai. My name is—”

The cringe marring his otherwise untroubled face stops your words before his interjection is even voiced. “Ah, um. Just ‘Okkotsu’ is fine. We look to be around the same age, too, so I don’t mind. May I address you casually as well?”

Face burning, brain scrambled, you somehow remember how to speak. You give him an affirmative before pausing, perplexed. How did he know your name already?

Okkotsu specifically requested to be paired with a rookie…

Geto’s words float to the forefront of your mind, soothing your hummingbird heart. Surely, the director and chief of Investigations must have briefed Okkotsu on your file before you were cleared to accompany him on this special taskforce.

Normally, you are woefully naïve, a bumbling but well-intentioned junior officer. The unsettling nature of the Serial Bereavements have pushed you towards an edge you didn’t even know you could reach.

The thought of the assignment weighs down your fresh-faced bashfulness. Suddenly, the afternoon sun is less bright, the heat on your face concentrating into the precursor to a migraine just behind your eyes.

Okkotsu blinks once, twice. “Thank you for working with me on this case. Would you believe me if I told you that I’m a bit of a scaredy cat?”

Your eyes bug out of your head in disbelief. “Um? But you…” His reputation specifically includes the highest number of skillful takedowns, arrest totals, and successful confessions across the entire prefecture. A scaredy cat?

“I know how it looks. It would be quite embarrassing if anyone else knew… but I’m a pretty anxious person.”

With a refocused perspective, your gaze hones in on the smattering of purple bruises underneath his tired eyes which birth a cool webbing of veins sprawling down and out across his pale, gaunt face. You realize that his uniform isn’t actually wrinkled – it just hangs off of his thin frame, tucked intentionally to give off the illusion of a much bigger silhouette.

In him, you see a reflection all too similar: young, ragged, hungry, scared.

It’s not enough to set you completely at ease, but your lungs relax their hold on your bated breath, letting it go as slowly and reluctantly as a child forced to part with their favorite plush toy. “Me too,” you hum. “Um, nonetheless, I will definitely try my best to be helpful. I hope I will not slow you down Okkotsu-se—er, Okkotsu.”

“It’s not about fast or slow.” The service car pulls up and loiters at the curb where the two of you are still lingering. He opens the back door for you. This is the first time a polite young man your age has done that. You try your best to remember that you are literally at work, on the clock, about to investigate an especially morbid case.

Once ensuring you’re comfortably inside, he shuts the door and rounds the rear of the vehicle to slide into the leather seat next to you.

“What matters is that we can rely on each other. Fast or slow, we’re partners now… as long as we finish together, it doesn’t matter the pace.”

He rattles off the address to the department driver after dropping what is possibly the most insightful reassurance you have ever received in your life.

Okay. You can kind of understand why the entire department is obsessed with him.

“R-right. Thank you.”

The rest of the ride is spent in a silence two shades off from comfortable. Nothing is wrong, per se – but the both of your negative energies linger and interact with each other like animals of the same species encountering for the first time.

How odd, you think, to find someone like you, and who is unashamed – eager, even – to admit it. To embrace it.

;

The cemetery is small and would otherwise go unnoticed if not for the dramatic influx in attention following the past few months. Plain and unadorned, neatly kept, with no ostentatious monuments or memorials, as is befitting for the burial grounds behind a Buddhist temple. All in all, the scenery would be somewhat peaceful if not for the six disturbed plots of land where remains were once laid to rest.

This is your first time at the scene of the crime. Your rank is too low to justify visiting this high-profile area without clearance from a supervisor. Now that you’ve been assigned to a taskforce specifically investigating this case, it was necessary that Yuuta took you to observe the scene yourself.

Although there is a total lack of gore or rot, still does the sight of six empty graves provoke within you an acute revulsion. Perhaps it is the absence of any overt suffering, and the oppressing knowledge of the extended waves of unearthed grief spanning across multiple kin networks who must now lose their loved one a second time – this is what inspires the damp, fragile sheen pooling at your waterline.

“Hey,” calls a soft, gentle voice. Yuuta’s timid wave brings you back from your wallowing. “Before we left, I grabbed the letters from forensics. Thought it might be helpful to have while we re-assess the scene.”

Something he’d done entirely for your benefit. Conscious of your lack of experience with the case, you incline your head, grateful. It’s almost as though your gratitude makes him uncomfortable. He averts his gaze and hands over a collection of six plastic-encased papers. Despite their origins within deep, aged earth, each one is pristine.

Steeling yourself, you read February’s letter, the origin of chaos:

My Dearly Beloved,

Did you know that not even the moon and all her stars, nor the sun and all his days, burn as brightly as my heart does for you? There is a certain privilege that I have been blessed with in this lifetime: the privilege to admire you from afar while passing through your stratosphere when it is convenient.

But, unlike you, I am a flawed and impure creature. I am greedy. Each morning, I wake up with a hunger to do more than watch. I want to draw you near to my side. I want to feel your flesh. I want to know what your innards taste like. I want to bathe in your desire. I want to carve myself into your being, forever and ever and ever, so that in the next life, you will be born missing me.

Please look at me. I love you so terribly it defies the laws of life and death. You’ve awoken something within me. I hope you’ll take responsibility.

Nauseous, you shift the letter to the bottom of the pile, hands shaking, head spinning.

“How disturbing…” you can’t stop the words from leaving you, unbidden. “How can someone desire another person in such a way that it permits violence?”

Okkotsu studies you closely. “Do you really feel that way?”

Alarm coils like a snake cornered in the pit of your gut. Sharply, you snap your gaze to his still, calm face. As pallid and pockmarked with depression as the moon herself. “Excuse me?”

“Are you truly disgusted by this kind of love?”

Fighting to ignore your fight-or-flight response, you answer: “I don’t consider this to be love.”

Peculiarly, his face breaks out into a smile, clearing away the lingering cloudy expression. “And that’s why I’m glad we’re partners. I knew you’d have the right idea about this.”

“Most people condemn this crime…”

“But too many sympathize with a false motive,” he volleys back, dark eyes glinting with a strange intensity. “This isn’t a crime of ‘love.’ The perp doesn’t act out of affection. They want to own, subdue, and take what is not theirs. How is that love?”

“Exactly,” you affirm. “To be honest, those connections have always kind of unsettled me…even in shows, or books, or games, I could never look at the obsessive type.”

“Scary, aren’t they?”

This isn’t just a work case for him, you belatedly realize. His tense posture, his imploring eyes, his specification of partner – this is personal. Something about these occurrences strikes a chord deep inside of him, resonating so profoundly that it would not be enough to watch another resolve these crimes; no, Okkotsu is compelled to eradicate the danger completely, uprooting it from the source, destroying the danger with his bare hands, watching it dissipate with his own eyes.

“Mm. I’m glad we’re working on this case together, Okkotsu.”

He offers a small, benign quirk of the lips. “Me too.”

Your partnership progresses steadily from this first encounter.

Most of your daily duties are now fulfilled off-site, accompanying Okkotsu to various locations of interest, following potential leads, and occasionally conducting interviews. It’s been merely two days since the taskforce has been formed, and yet, you’ve been so preoccupied with your new assignment that it completely slips your mind to alert Shoko as to why you’ve been absent from your regular rooftop lunch dates.

You are mortified to open an aggrieved SMS from her on Wednesday morning:

Ieiri-san 08:15Oi. Are you dead

Me 08:16 Ahhhh!! I’m so sorry!!!! A new assignment is taking up a lot of my time. I apologize for not communicating. And for missing lunch. We can eat together today? I can bring you something? Whatever you like! I can make it!

Ieiri-san 08:20 Nah, none of that You’re probably overworking yourself already. No need for extra labor Just meet me on rooftop @ usual time

Me 08:21 Absolutely!!

It is surprisingly difficult to tear yourself from Yuuta’s side, as the two of you have been practically glued together from sunrise to sundown ever since embarking on the special assignment. He is reluctant to let you slip away for lunch, and as a result, you linger past a reasonable time to reassure him that you will be back on time.

When you are finally able to break away from Investigations HQ, you check the time on your phone only to realize that noon has rounded the corner with unanticipated haste. Hurriedly, you make your way to the seventh level of the police station building, embarrassingly conscious of your damp forehead and rapid breath.

“Sorry I’m late!!” Bursting through the metal door, you explode onto the rooftop, cloth-wrapped bento in one hand, and your furiously beating heart in the other.

It’s almost comical, how serene Ieiri looks, unbothered as ever as she leans against the railing with her trademark cigarette weaving in between her restless fingers. “Took you long enough. Been waiting for two days, now.”

“Ahhhh…”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You look like you’re about to piss your pants. C’mere.”

Face in flames, you stride over to pop a squat next to her. “I really do apologize, Ieiri-san. These last couple of days have been really hectic…”

“How so? You mentioned a new assignment. When did that happen?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I can talk about it…Investigations personally assigned me…um, not to be impolite or brag or anything! Just, I think it’s a little sensitive in nature, so—”

“Investigations?” She cuts you off, her dull timbre unusually sharp. “You mean those two idiots asked you to handle a highly classified criminal case? During your first quarter? By yourself?”

“Ah!! Geto-senpai and Gojo-senpai are quite eccentric, but they are very nice--!”

“No, they are not—”

“—and I’m not by myself! I’m partnered with Okkotsu Yuuta!”

If you weren’t such an anxious person who is well-practiced in the art of overanalyzing the countenance of others, you would surely have missed the way Ieiri’s eyes widen imperceptibly, the way her breath stutters on the next exhalation. She does not look at you for a beat. Two beats. She stares straight ahead at the exterior of the building when asks,

“You’re investigating the Serial Bereavement cases.”

“Ieiri-san…” you whine, head in your hands. “I’m, like, ninety percent sure no one else is supposed to know…”

“What, don’t trust me? Not like I have any friends around here to tell.”

“That’s, well. That’s not the point. Okkotsu mentioned that this was a sensitive matter, so…”

“Just ‘Okkotsu,’ huh?” She peers sideways at you. “No ‘senpai’? Wow, you two sure got comfortable fast.”

“No, please don’t misunderstand! Because honorifics make him uncomfortable, he asked that we speak casually!”

“I asked you the same.”

Her blunt response stuns you silent. It takes you several seconds to produce a response. “Well, yes. But that’s different…Ieiri-san is older…”

“Not by much.” Finally, she lights the cig in her hand. “Hey, let me ask you something.”

“Okay, please go ahead.”

“It was Investigations who put you on the case? Nobody else was involved?”

Hesitation halts your tongue. Mentally, you are transported back to that fateful day, just a little less than forty-eight hours ago, when your new assignment had been unloaded upon you.

“…I’m sorry, sir. I don’t mean to question your judgement, but why have I been chosen to pair with Okkotsu-san?”

“Oh! He specifically requested—”

Gojo was never able to finish his sentence, cut off by Geto’s strategically timed blow. Almost as though the chief was about to reveal something better left unsaid.

You may be a rookie, but you aren’t stupid. There’s a reason why you got this job, after all.

And if you can deduce this much, surely the next conclusion you land on isn’t so far-fetched:

Okkotsu must have personally requested you as a partner.

But the question is…why? You hadn’t been personally acquainted before you’d met outside of the station before heading to your first investigation together. He’s been nothing but kind and respectful – if a little unsettlingly intense, at times, but you think that’s just kind of how he is.

There must be an element that you’re missing from the equation, a piece of the puzzle of which you are not yet aware. It is for this uncertainty that you choose to disclose the truth to Ieiri.

“Okkotsu requested me as his partner.”

Obviously, she asked you for this information because something was dependent upon how you answered. Studying Ieiri’s reaction might be the first step towards unraveling this strange situation.

And react, indeed she does; again, it is quite muted, eroded by years of police work and other unspoken traumas you’re sure lie dormant inside of her mysterious, impenetrable depths. But perhaps it is because of your friendship that Ieiri’s micro-expressions appear to you more as the dramatic admission of feeling that they truly are.

A twitch of the brow, a purse of the lips. Her next exhalation of smoke comes fast and hard, expelled from her mouth in one decisive whoosh of toxic air. Usually, she pays special attention to the wind pattern so that she does not blow smoke in your face. It seems she’s thoroughly perturbed today; the fumes whip you across the cheek and you hack violently in surprise.

Your adverse response snaps her out of the momentary brooding. “Shit, sorry,” she mumbles, quickly removing the cig from her lips and smothering it on the ground. “You alright?”

“J-just fine,” you murmur after one final bout of ear-splitting dry heaves. “Can I ask you a question, now?”

“Shoot.”

“Is it a bad thing that Okkotsu and I are partners?”

Visibly, Ieiri must chew and swallow her initial retort. This is quite unprecedented behavior from the woman with little to no filter on any given occasion. “How are you finding it so far?”

“Well…he’s really considerate. And accommodating. Um, he even revisited the crime scene with me since I’d never been, and he let me read all the letters, too.”

“That’s funny,” says Ieiri, stone-faced. “How did he show you the letters?”

“He said he picked them up from the station before we left. I was quite surprised that he went through all the trouble of doing that, since those kinds of sensitive evidence usually aren’t allowed to leave Forensics…”

“You’re absolutely right. They aren’t.”

“Ah…Okkotsu must have special clearance…?”

“He doesn’t,” Ieiri deadpans.

“…I see…”

Her hands twitch at her sides like she’s itching for another smoke, even though the carcass of her most recent stick still smolders underneath the dagger of her high heel. “Well. You can do whatever you want with Okkotsu. Sounds like you’re in capable, dedicated hands.”

“Huh? Ieiri-san, wh—wait, where are you going--?!”

But before you can finish your panicked inquiry, Ieiri has already blown through the metal door, stomping her way back downstairs to the sixth floor where the Forensics Department awaits her gloomy presence. It’s unlike her to storm off mid-conversation. You’ve never seen her emotions rise above slight annoyance – and that level of frustration is reserved exclusively for the Investigations chief and director. What had you done to provoke even worse of an ire?

Riddled with guilt and anxiety, you wade through the rest of the workday in a foggy, unfocused haze. Okkotsu gives up trying to ask you what is wrong after his third attempt. When you eventually, mercifully fall into bed that night, unshed tears overflow past your clenched, trembling lashes, staining your pillow with sorrows you cannot speak aloud.

Upon waking up, you are granted no reprieve. It is Thursday, the sixth of September. The first Thursday of the month.

You don’t bother with something as trivial as breakfast this morning – not when the thought of what awaits you in the day ahead fills you to the brim with unbearable dread.

Arriving at the police station and getting briefed on the day’s events only confirms your worst fears: there has been another Bereavement at the Joenji graveyard.

This month’s occurrence is twistedly unique.

Accompanying the usual handwritten letter is a fresh, human heart, so red and wet, glistening with fresh gore, that it almost appears to be beating through the still stock photos taken by Field Operations upon first discovery.

Due to your increased status, you are granted clearance to read this month’s note before any other department can get to it. Ieiri is absent from the Forensics office when you rush off the elevator to the sixth floor. One of the interns retrieves the file for you, and you are equal parts eager and terrified to scan its plastic-encased contents.

My Dearly Beloved,

Aimless admiration has thus far sated my yearning soul. Seeing you eat well every day fills my spirit with a sense of completion. I am at ease to watch over you and ensure your wellbeing. But there has been a disturbance. I can feel your increased awareness, like a child opening its eyes to the world for the first time. Coupled with this awareness is a newfound distance between us. Things were going so well. Why now? Why pull away? This can’t be because of me. It must be someone else.

I think I know who.

What must I do to regain your undivided attention? How can I reclaim your primary affections? To experience even an inch of separation, a millimeter of remove, is for my body to undergo countless agonizing deaths.

Will you pay attention to me?

Will you notice me?

Will you choose me?

Look at me.

Look at me.

Look at me.

I serve my beating heart up on a platter just so that your gaze might befall it for the barest of breaths.

Recent events have shown me that I cannot stand idly by any longer while others sneakily and deliberately encroach on our relationship. I’m getting restless. I’ve been waiting quite patiently. Are you as antsy as I am? Soon, you’ll know me as all that I am.

I miss you. I see you every day and I miss you. Come back to me.

Before it’s too late.

[mangalho]

I made this dude to relax bc i read the info on drows on the dnd wiki (i dont know shit abt dnd and im not joking) and thought ‘whoever made these guys is a pervert’ i respect that, but i closed my eyes at the stupider bits of the lore…

i just dont think their society is like. Livable HAHAAH also its stupid asf to have ‘inherently evil species’… apparently they’re steering away from that shit which is great.

He was a man from a non-noble house chosen by a matron of a high house and they were surprisingly happy together for drow standards. Malaggar comes from like a mining/trading settlement, but his ventures took him to Menzoberranzan and thats how he met her. She was smitten by his general honesto demeanor and cute "provincial" accent (okay big City bitch..!)

please note that drows are kind of insane in general but apparently its worse in highly populated noble ridden cities with the strictest social rules so like. To you this was just some guy but to that woman he was so different so quirky ajahjahah

They had a good run, but eventually another matron from another high house came and said ‘i want him’ and since drow women compete like wild animals she killed his OG wife.. demolished her really

He became her bitch AND was miserable. She was happy bc he was like a pretty young thing but soon started getting violent with the guy because he was grieving his first wife whom he actually liked. He was in a rough spot bc he was getting his ass beat on the daily fr.. However his new wife was also a high drow so. He was basically elevating his family just bc he was there taking the domestic abuse (read: normal spider-worshipping drow behaviour)

The new matron was very unkind in every possible way you can imagine, but she didn’t do anything to him that would scar his body, greatest asset and all that. One day he snapped and killed his matron by way of knife and ran away to the surface world. Then he started his life of crime. Went from a little abused noble boy to some cartel mercenary dude who kills ppl and has tattoos. I think they look both really dumb but also sick as fuck, and he probably got them as a way to rebel against his upbringing in a way. But he’s edgy so i bet he thinks he looks sick like no nations no borders no self awareness being embarrassing unites all peoples

he is traumatized by women and is deeply afraid of them! I want his story to develop around becoming more normal and overcoming his grief.. hes from a long lived species so its taking him a while. Also its harder to make real friends if all your coworkers are insane criminals

[yinyuedijun]

TOKYO VICE | glossary and notes

hi this is my extended author's note for my unserious yandere suo fic (which will be posted very shortly after this). deeply sorry if you read all that. see below for vocab and world-building delusions!

Disclaimer: I am not fluent in Japanese, have only spent very limited time in Japan’s red light districts, and definitely have no association with Japanese criminal organisations. Thus, I cannot promise 100% accuracy of the below lol. However, I have tried to understand and briefly describe these terms to the best of my abilities. Take it all with a grain of salt!

YAKUZA TERMS/NOTES

yakuza organisations have familial hierarchies in place, so familial terms are often used between members:

aniki – term to address an older brother (or an older male in the organisation, in suo’s case)

anesan –  term to address an older sister; this is used for wives of yakuza members, especially high-ranking members. yakuza do maintain certain principles/ethics, and apparently one is that the wife of another member can’t be touched. this is partly why suo likes to call you his wife (for protection purposes), but he’s also just wants to marry you lol

oyassan – term to address one’s father (or the head of the organisation, in suo’s case)

oyabun –  literally “parent figure” (head of the organisation)

chinpira – rookie yakuza; also used for petty criminals. I got the impression that these guys would be the ones doing street-level grunt work

irezumi – a particular style of tattoos that yakuza members get. they are strongly associated with yakuza membership in Japan (unlike in western countries where people may get them for aesthetic reasons). examples:

han-gure – non-yakuza criminal organisation, which may include delinquents, colour gangs, etc. interestingly, it came up in some of the documentaries that I watched that some people perceive yakuza as necessary evils because they suppress and/or minimise activity by han-gure, which are seen as causing more trouble for civilians.

relating to the ethical code followed (in theory) by yakuza – although yakuza are violent criminals, there are also ideals of chivalrous behaviour and protecting the weak among yakuza. (this is, for example, why yakuza organisations will donate aid/resources during major disasters.) this reminded me quite a bit of bofurin, and I came across some real-life cases where members of the yakuza were previously delinquents, so I thought it was fitting that the yakuza might try to recruit from bofurin in the fic. 

I saw some opinions from older ex-yakuza members that current organisations do not really strive toward these honourable values, and that yakuza are too money-driven these days. I think it made a lot of sense for suo (due to his general disposition and time in bofurin) to adhere very strongly to these ethical codes and endear himself to older gang leaders this way.

one of the reasons that yakuza are nowadays considered less relevant is apparently because japanese policing of petty crime is so strong nowadays. in previous decades, when law enforcement was much weaker, yakuza actually did (or at least, were described to) play a major part in suppressing petty crime or criminal violence toward civilians. this, again, reminded me of bofurin – the police are essentially implied to have given up on makochi, and bofurin formed in order to suppress petty and/or violent crime instead. I assume that this applies to the nearby red light district as well, since roppo-ichiza formed in response to crime on keisei street. it stood to reason to me that this would create a situation where a yakuza family could become extremely socially dominant, and where these old-fashioned ethical codes would actually be quite relevant. this is why suo is so well-known within the red light district and well-respected by his peers.

some yakuza organisations, also as part of an ethical code, do not involve themselves in businesses such as drug trafficking. I didn’t personally come across anything implying that sex trafficking was banned by any ethical codes, but narratively I think it made a lot of sense that suo wants no business with it after what the reader went through. 

on the note of sex trafficking – apparently a lot of sex trafficking and sex work-adjacent professions in japan affect runaway teenage girls specifically, which this reader does qualify as. this is why her backstory got so dark as I was developing the storyline for this yakuza au (I did not initially put her into mizu shobai work for such a narratively significant reason though lol – I just thought the mental image of smuggling three delinquents into the washroom of a girls’ bar was very funny when I was writing Sincerity)

MIZU SHOBAI TERMS/NOTES

Mizu shobai or “water business” – euphemism for certain types of jobs in the entertainment industry, especially those pertaining to nightlife (including girls’ bars and hostess clubs). yakuza are known for their involvement with mizu shobai establishments. 

Girls’ bar – bars where the bartenders are all women, who will make conversation with (male) customers as they serve drinks. 

Hostess bars – bars or clubs where women will accompany individual or groups of (male) customers as they drink, making conversation, singing karaoke, etc. they are not sex workers and are not allowed to have sex with customers (nor is touching generally allowed). in the interest of not misrepresenting this line of work, I want to be very clear that the reader is having sex with her customers not as an industry standard practice, but because something is extremely wrong with her situation (financially, socially, and mentally). 

Douhan – dinner dates that hostesses may go on with customers.

Kyabakura – a portmanteau of “carabaret” and “club”, these are a type of hostess clubs. kyabakura establishments tend to employ younger girls in comparison to high end clubs.

High end clubs – much pricier than kyabakura, with much greater earnings for the hostesses themselves; I got the sense during researching that these tend to be extremely competitive environments for the hostesses.

Mamasan – a “head hostess” who will typically manage girls, and or even manage the club itself. since the reader is working at clubs run by criminal organisations, the mamasans are not the actual owners.

[talisidekick]

I saw a post of someone, as far as I could tell they were transgender, getting mad how people are letting the current tumblr fiasco (see any post tagging predesterone, avewy, or predestrogen. TL;DR trans girl got banned off the site for making a 'threat' to Tumblrs CEO while suffering a months long harassment, bigotry, and stalking campaigne without Tumblr lifting a finger to help. Tumblr responded with a ban citing reasons already disproven by their own process.) distract everyone from the current situation in Gaza, which is a coming mass assault. And I do get the frustration. But lets put both in perspective beginning with the 10 stages of genocide from

and

The Stages are as follows taken directly from the sources above:

"Classification – The differences between people are not respected. There’s a division of ‘us’ and ‘them’ which can be carried out using stereotypes, or excluding people who are perceived to be different.

Symbolisation – This is a visual manifestation of hatred. Jews in Nazi Europe were forced to wear yellow stars to show that they were ‘different’.

Discrimination – The dominant group denies civil rights or even citizenship to identified groups. The 1935 Nuremberg Laws stripped Jews of their German citizenship, made it illegal for them to do many jobs or to marry German non-Jews.

Dehumanisation – Those perceived as ‘different’ are treated with no form of human rights or personal dignity. During the Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda, Tutsis were referred to as ‘cockroaches’; the Nazis referred to Jews as ‘vermin’.

Organisation – Genocides are always planned. Regimes of hatred often train those who go on to carry out the destruction of a people.

Polarisation – Propaganda begins to be spread by hate groups. The Nazis used the newspaper Der Stürmer to spread and incite messages of hate about Jewish people.

Preparation – Perpetrators plan the genocide. They often use euphemisms such as the Nazis’ phrase ‘The Final Solution’ to cloak their intentions. They create fear of the victim group, building up armies and weapons.

Persecution – Victims are identified because of their ethnicity or religion and death lists are drawn up. People are sometimes segregated into ghettos, deported or starved and property is often expropriated. Genocidal massacres begin.

Extermination – The hate group murders their identified victims in a deliberate and systematic campaign of violence. Millions of lives have been destroyed or changed beyond recognition through genocide.

Denial – The perpetrators or later generations deny the existence of any crime."

Now, these ten stages don't need to be done in order, and all ten aren't required to classify a genocide. If you have all 10 present, you failed to stop it and it's either happening or over. Just ONE stage present is enough to claim it's genocide. Not all genocides are bloody, they can be quiet, slow, and unnoticeable to those not the targets of it.

In Palestine, you have all 10. It's happening. No one listened, no one cared, and now innocent blood is spilled that was 100% preventable. And we, the world, get to watch that failing in action. We're seeing a bloody genocide. A violent one.

With transgender people in many places in the world, the stages present are: Classification, Symbolization, Discrimination, Dehumanization, Organization, Polarization, and Preparation. Seven, out of ten. 7/10. 70% of the way there to "too late".

So why is the predesterone/predstogen/Avewy/Rita situation important? The US, where Tumblr makes it's office. Avewy is transgender. The US is solidifying the Discrimination stage, and depending on who's elected next, even sanctuary states could feel the full pressure of the federal government. Please note, it's bad enough in the states that certain ones are offering sanctuary from others. Avewy isn't a US citizen, yet despite reporting discrimination, has so far had her reports denied and been removed from the site. So have many other enbies, trans men, and trans women.

Now Tumblr isn't a government institution, however, genocide is as much a government act as it is a social one. And private institutions, companies, corporations, and people make it happen. So getting mad saying something to the effect of "Palestinians are dying and this Avewy issue is distracting from meaningful actions being taken to prevent this nex upcoming mass assault" is aiding in allowing the same thing to happen to another minority by paving the path up to the genocide stage of Denial. How do you think the Palestinian genocide came to be? People kept saying their issues weren't important enough, and denied that there was a problem. The ongoing genocide NEEDS TO BE STOPPED but not at the cost of allowing another genocide to continue to take place.

And if you haven't figured it out, this is why anti-discrimination laws exist. Any sign of inequality in a society, whether thats based on race, creed, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, sex, disability, etc. is the starting sign of a possible genocide. This is why equality is so important. This is why Pride exists, this is why the racial equality movement is important, this is why people get on stage in protest and show up to rallies. Failure to uphold equality leads to erasure, and often to blood spilled. If you don't like that 70% of transgender people of all ages are at risk of suicide when not supported, or the higher rate of systemic violence towards people of colour and other minorities, then learn to recognize discrimination and speak up. Because failure to do so puts lives on the line, and we're all in this world together.

Free Palestine, Trans Rights Are Human Rights, Black Lives Matter, Stop the Genocide. All these statements can, should, and need to coexist on the same world stage. When ones in crisis, show up, because it only cascades and gets worse.

None of us are free unless all of us are.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

So, so tired to see all these “in TSR Aang didn’t care about Katara in the slightest but rather forced his culture onto her” lies.

Aang: The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you're being poisoned yourself.

Come. On!

If this is not “killing this man will traumatize you” then I don’t know what proof they want. He’s clearly showing care and concern for Katara here. And then Aang will let her borrow Appa aka the last living part of his culture and Aang will say that Katara needs to take this journey and to face this man and in the end Aang will be more than happy to hear that she hasn’t taken his forgiveness advice because she has her own way… only for some people to tell that he doesn't give a shit and only thinks about forcing his culture or whatever.

And these are the people who constantly brag about being the only ones in the fandom with media literacy. Their “media literacy” is, in fact, non-existent.

They don't care what the real message or context was, they only care about making Aang look bad. If the roles were somehow reversed and it was Zuko advocating for a non-violent solution while Aang encouraged Katara to get revenge, suddenly there'd be questions as to why the hero's got-to response to pain and rage, no matter how righteous, is going for the kill.

But because Zuko was the one encouraging it, there's no room to talk about how this him relapsing into the old pattern of thinking he can only fix things through violence due to how he was raised (and abused).

Or about how it is VERY disappoiting to see the brave prince that once stood up for his soldiers to now be ready to murder one of them in cold blood for the crime of follwing orders (that were cruel and unjust and that basic human decency says he shouldn't have followed), aka the same thing Zuko himself was doing less than a month ago, when he is not currently posing a threat to anyone.

Or about how he did it all because he felt entitled to Katara's forgiveness and only started to truly empathize with her in the middle of their journey.

Or about how, regardless of if killing that fucker was right or wrong, revegence of justice, cruelty or doing him a favor, it was KATARA'S DECISION to go after him, then to spare him but not forgive him - something both Zuko and AANG respected.

It's an episode about the pain and rage that comes from grief, especially from an unfair death that was caused by a cruel coward, and how it's important to recognize those feelings and process them so they won't consume you. It's about Katara as a character, with Zuko, the former imperialist, representing a self-destructive path of continuing the cicle of violence, and Aang, the pacifist, reminding her that SHE IS NOT A MURDERER!

But zutarians only care about Katara in the context of this made-up love triangle, so they force it onto the episode too.

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

favorite ocelhira hcs?

HELLOOOO ANON.

Do you have a day or two available? No pressing plans or engagements that might require your undivided attention soon?

For simplicity (lies and slander) I'll break it down into a few sections for you. 1. Headcanons for the Games Provided 'Canon'.

2. 9 Year Gap Headcanons

3. Happy Death Day Headcanons (AKA Kazuhira Fckin Dies Day)

4. Parasite AU Headcanons

5. Other/Non-Specific Headcanons

6. NSFW Headcanons Ready? Let's begin!

Headcanons for the Games Provided 'Canon'. In the Truth Tapes, Zero tells Kaz that he’s going to introduce him to ‘a network of messengers that will lead him to a man’ a man that Zero trusts ‘more than anyone alive with this sort of thing’. This is clearly Ocelot, and this is what I consider their original meeting. How it happened, and specifically at what time I can really only guess (although I go between late 1976-1977 for it myself) and it’s one I accept easily. It makes the most sense for putting one another on their respective radar’s and amuses me a little bit.

It's like..match maker Zero. If your match making is specifically for war crimes.

I have a prevalent headcanon that they have a sort of mutual annoyance thing. The kind that’s flavoured with ‘can’t live with ya, can’t live without ya’. I think they understand each other on a deep level they almost never or unwillingly talk about.

On Ocelot’s side, I think Kaz amuses him as much as he annoys him. On Kaz’s side, I think he feels a sense of what I call ‘regrettable freedom’ with Ocelot. In that Ocelot understands-deeply-how violent Kaz is deep down and is more than willing to call him out on it-or let him indulge in it, if he’s feeling that sort of mood.

Ocelot thinks of Kaz as a little overly hysterical, but he is one of the only people who doesn’t underestimate him or write him off as faff and a loudmouth (a mistake I firmly believe Zero absolutely made) to uninterested in him and bored with how bad of a spy he turned out to be.

I can see Ocelot considering Kaz, ‘histrionic’. (And, TIL there is something called HPD: Histrionic Personality Disorder. Huh. Sorry, got distracted)

Kaz fluctuates in how he thinks of Ocelot. I think when there is little else to occupy Kaz’s attention Ocelot gets the brunt of it (whether that be nagging him or just talking about whatever) but he can easily get ignored if Kaz is distracted by other things. I refer a little bit to some of the tapes where they have a decent conversation without insulting each other or being catty. They are very few and far between, but I can see them having perfectly normal conversations otherwise.

I think they both take their respective jobs very seriously, and they’re both very intelligent. This helps them out because they can have a mutual interest in a place where Big Boss leaves a gap. To expand on this-Big Boss is war and field smart, but not book smart. Something Kaz and Ocelot both are, if in different ways. Nor does Big Boss really hrm..care?

We know Kaz is exceptionally well-read, and Ocelot has a wealth of information under his belt. Getting drunk and having rambling talks is something I can see them doing-if Ocelot can get drunk (or hell even sober) and just. Talking.

Neither of them sleep well, if at all. Many chats happen at ridiculous hours about nothing, and everything.

They amuse each other. I think that’s one big draw for them, they can banter almost endlessly, and both have a mental category of ‘this is the good banter sections’ and ‘this is the I want to hurt you cruel banter’. Below the belt fighting is not off the table.

I do think they care about each other. To what degree depends on the time.

Ocelot knows exactly how to get under Kaz’s skin the best and can be quite merciless about it.

9 Year Gap Headcanons

They did so many drugs during this time. So many. They ran on it. Kaz often struggled to get the Diamond Dogs up and running and was continually frustrated for being disregarded.

We have small hints that he did black ops field work during this time too-and I can see Ocelot helping out there when it was available or necessary.

They visited clubs. Kaz picked up the family business more than once in desperation (this one I kinda restrict more to my fics, mind you). He tried on multiple occasions to get Ocelot to cough up information (almost always unsuccessfully, mind you) about whatever at first.

They hated each other on sight at the first meeting. Kaz was in a fighting mood, and Ocelot was just. Largely curious. At the same time, I think they were equal fascinated. In the ‘circle the other tiger in the cage’ way.

(Kaz immediately hated how hot he found Ocelot. Ocelot considered him attractive, but unless you’re shaped exactly like BB Ocelot’s attraction might be more minimal, IMO. See further below in the ‘NSFW’ for how I figure that turned out).

There is more than one destroyed motel room from their antics. Kaz itching for a physical fight anytime he feels the mood coming on, Ocelot more unwilling to indulge but eventually going with a ‘fuck it’ attitude because it does, eventually, shut him up for an hour or two.

Happy Death Day Headcanons (AKA Kazuhira Fckin' Dies Day) I’ll freely admit this one is almost entirely MGSV’s fault with the ‘death pact’ made in the ending, but I don’t care either. It’s one I find interesting, and I go with it because COME ON. How can I not? Part of me likes to think Ocelot did it himself, another part of me is convinced that Kaz would be utterly insulted if he sent someone else…which is also why Ocelot might choose that route. I do not think Ocelot would’ve used gas or poison as is suggested by the game, but nevertheless. Sometimes I toy with the idea of them faking his death, to amuse myself. And for AU potential. But there’s always the tried and true ‘once more for old times sake fck’ and a shot to the head. Ocelot probably took more than one trophy. The glasses were a necessity for Liquid, but I think he took something else. What that is I've yet to decide. I think Ocelot misses him periodically in the aftermath, especially as he gets older and more and more of their 'time' die out. Until he's reworked his brain to be Liquid-ified anyway. Parasite AU Headcanons Most of my parasite AU is detailed here. But I love considering parasite Kaz and experimenting with that in fics and other ideas. I like the idea of Ocelot having some housed on his skin and having a symbiotic little imprint with them. Extended by this I've also toyed with ghost Kaz haunting Ocelot after. Other/Non Specific Headcanons Here is my headcanon for Kaz and Ocelot orchestrating his capture together. It's it's own thing, but it's something I've toyed around with periodically and another one of those 'what if' ideas I feel prone to. I do think they have the potential for the most disastrous, but funniest dynamic out there. I like the idea of them having one of the longest working relationships in the series, and I find their mutual understanding, even if that's with an element of dislike or annoyance, fascinating. You could call it 'frenemies', but I think whatever they have is more disastrous and complicated. I also think they do enjoy each other's company, and have a pretty good working relationship. When they are perfectly in-sync they are an enemies worst nightmare. Whether that enemy is a man on the field or a very unsuspecting bar patron does not matter here.

NSFW Headacanons They fuck. Let's be real. They absolutely fuck. Ocelot's one and true love is probably always-and only-BB, but he's human (we think..?). Kaz is right there, and the man isn't a saint. Don't gotta love someone to fuck them (but I COULD see an argument for Ocelhira having their own type of love). I'll use 'fuck' more specifically because I think most of the times they do are pretty violent, and they destroy the room in the process. Tying into that, is because I think by then Kaz's best known form of foreplay is 'fight first' and Ocelot probably isn't going to say no when Kaz has such a lovely, punchable face.

They can (sometimes) have more standard, 'vanilla' sex but if you breathe the word 'make love' at either of them it's an immediate boner killer.

They have both used sex as a beautifully unhealthy coping mechanism.

There are kinks they share-how much they trust each other with those kinks varies considerably, but it almost never stops them.

Both of them have a higher sexual appetite than BB-this has consequences that are both good or bad, depending again, on the situation.

I think they both like strangulation and bloodplay a lot. As well as knife play. One of them has absolutely fainted mid act before. At least in my opinion.

'Safe Sane Consensual' did not always apply (they maybe got better later, maybe. Depending).

They have not always been sober during either act. I think they also find a certain amount of freedom in one-another, an alignment, if you will, in some shared kinks without it getting all confusing or complicated. A form of relief, without so much attachment.

And I'm sure I have way more! For some clarity's sake, here is my AO3 for more Ocelhira, and here is my standard headcanons tag, for anything I might've forgotten. Thank you for sending in!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Oh no was the spin-off bad or just mediocre? Is there anything you particularly liked or disliked about it?

god okay let's get into the good, the bad, and the ???? of it all. hiding it entirely under a cut because spoilers ahoy.

the :)

I have reservations about the Riddler as a full protagonist that I'll articulate below, but I can't really fault any of the writing re: Eddie's dialogue at all. the characterization of the Riddler as an insufferably cocky and nosy motormouth works really well, and Hasan Minhaj seems like he's having a blast with the expanded role.

I also like ESCAPE ARTIST PICKPOCKET RIDDLER recognition!!!

also hey even though they didn't follow up on some of the very promising tidbits re: Eddie's potentially deteriorating mental state dropped in Unburied, I like that it was made clear that there are physical components to his riddle compulsion, namely mentioning that his chest was getting tighter. it adds an interesting dimension to his whole schtick!

having listed all these fun traits that I enjoy, I also respect that the story doesn't feel the need to like... soften Eddie in order to make him a more likeable protagonist. oh haha the funny little asshole man? yeah he killed people. he kills a guy literally in the course of the story after proclaiming in the very first episode that he's mostly non-violent. and he's 100% chill about it because fuck that guy! he doesn't matter, he's in the way of the riddle! and the whole ending with Nadira is... oofah doofah, that's crazy. that's crazy crazy. and it's pretty tasty!

I LOOOOOVE appearances from minor villains!!! bro we got THE FUCKING TALLY MAN in this!!! also hey when I wrote that absurdly long post-Unburied fic I CORRECTLY predicted Croc, Sportsmaster, and the fucking Condiment King someone. I don't know. pay me or kiss me on the mouth for that or something.

I wish there was more Barbara, of course, but I really like what we did get of her! I like that we've kind of skipped over any need for her to have a Batgirl era and just got straight to the good stuff of being almost Oracle. I love to see her exactly where she belongs: flagrantly committing cybercrime to save lives because she can.

also the sound design is still good, and I really like the new music for the opening and Azrael's motif

also speaking of Azrael I'm going to say ONE nice thing about how he was written which is that I DO think it's interesting that they directly pointed out that the concept of Azrael as an angel of death is actually much more prominent in Islam than Christianity while also making in unambiguous that the Nygmas are a Muslim family. it adds a little bit of intrigue to the connection between Nadira and JP, not nearly enough to actually redeem Nadira as a big bad in my eyes (see below) but it is interesting!

also lastly Eddie is flirting so hard with Bruce AND Barbara I love you problematic awful bisexual representation. AND Killer Croc wants to fuck him? madness.

the :/

I alluded to this earlier, but I don't know if I love Eddie promoted to the POV protagonist! it's a big departure from Unburied, not just in terms of who's the main character but also in terms of limiting the scope of the story. giving Bruce and Barbara's alternating perspectives in Unburied was brilliant for building up the mystery and creating suspense in the story, and when the story came together to focus fully on Bruce as Batman it felt organically earned.

and also on a more Eddie-centric note I just! think he works better as a supporting character for other people to bounce off of, rather than being a lead in his own right!

I'm putting this in :/ instead of :( because it's more of a matter of personal taste than anything but godddddd I wanted more Barbara :/ I love her :/ where is she :/ I'm mostly mad because I wanted a spinoff of her and Eddie solving crimes while he crashes in her couch and does petty crime but godddddd god god god I want her back so bad I love her more than Eddie and Bruce combined

while I like the emotional beats of the resolution with Nadira I don't... like her as a character or a storytelling device. like I'm sorry but I don't really care about the Riddler's family drama! especially not when it's as heavy-handed as "my sister told me riddles to distract me from our parents fighting." very reminiscent of the backstory where Leonard and Lisa Snart would hide out in an ice cream truck or whatever, please stop trying to make psychology this painfully clear cut.

I also didn't really need an origin story but I do like that it's kind of an updated version of his first BTAS episode!

I can't decide if Jean Paul unceremoniously killing off Flass is really funny or sucks shit. kind of both but it does veer towards the latter, I was really hoping that if they're going to keep making more of this podcast we would at least get to see Babs get an arc where she investigates Flass and gets justice for her dad on her own terms. but then again. it is pretty funny.

also god this isn't REALLY about the show but I have to say this. the Riddler a.) getting #calledout by Azrael for bearing false witness and b.) ESPECIALLY him trying to dunk on his sister by implying she should marry a white guy are SO FUNNY given the timing of the minor scandal re: Hasan Minhaj maybe just straight up making things up entirely in his comedy and SPECIFICALLY getting that poor woman doxxed by claiming she dumped him for racist reasons. I'M JUST SAYING. (editor's note: since absolved of all wrongdoing and the woman who wrote that piece is genuinely unhinged, but the timing was still BANANAS.)

the :(

I'm just gonna say it, man: I'm not into Colman Domingo's Bruce/Batman performance at all. I don't know what happened behind the scenes to precipitate Winston Duke leaving the role, but god fuck I'm in mourning. Duke is genuinely one of my favorite portrayals of Bruce ever for his distinctive Batman voice and how much expressiveness, vulnerability, and warmth he brings to the character, and while I wouldn't want his replacement to try and mimic that performance exactly (impossible!) it seems like Domingo just... wasn't even given the memo? this is a much flatter Bruce, and I simply cannot love him.

re: my complaints about Nadira above, her character is just handled in a really underwhelming way. having Eddie repeatedly call her "sis" is stumbling straight into the one of the worst of all lazy exposition techniques, especially since Bruce works his way to that exact revelation, like would it have killed anyone to just... let us wonder about the connection a *little* longer? also, again, those flashbacks are ARTLESS. in Unburied there's framing and context for all of the ways the past blends into the present, whether it's Strange's recordings or the story taking place inside Bruce's own meddled memories. it really feels like they're just hurling backstory at us with a catapult in this one.

the ultimate big bad reveal is... ugh. UGH. Unburied was a really cool nesting doll of a minor Batman villain being manipulated by a more well-known villain being manipulated by an A-list villain with a cool and unique spin on her backstory... Secrets in the Dark has an absolutely WASTED member of the Batfamily used as a killer of the week, controlled by a minor dirty cop and a complete OC who doesn't get much screentime at all. cool!

also hey listen. as soon as they start going "hmm... I don't know this is just too big for Flass... SOMEONE else must be helping him..." it's like. I don't know, man. do you think it's possibly the only new character introduced in the series who we know was just elected to a government position? do you think maybe that's who it could be?

also hey man speaking of which they just fucking. they just used Jean Paul as a random deranged serial killer and then the fucking Riddler managed to convince him to off himself. fucking. disrespectful. this feels like that episode of Arrow (sorry to cite Arrow in 2023, I know) when Helena's just like. an antagonist of the week for Oliver to fight. disrespectful!!!!

"Makenzie I thought you didn't even like Jean Paul why does it matter" I'M COMING AROUND ON HIM

overall the plot just feels way more hectic and unpolished than Unburied and it's Unfortunate!

also hey do you remember at the end of Unburied where Bruce just casually blows the lid open on Eddie being afraid that he's like. devolving and actively losing his grip on his own brain and it's like extra bad and scary because he has no idea whether it really means anything when he passes psych evals, etc? really cool how we never really brought that up again

where was Ace :( :( :( my good boy :( :( :(

[local-pr1nter]

Mondo Oowada Ship Dynamics

Just my opinions and personal Headcanons - if you don't like/agree with these, then please move on!

Assume these are all based in an Non-Despair AU!

Ishimondo

A classic ship. Absolute *chefs kiss*.

At this point it seems canon with the amount of shippers and fan content for these two. Don't get me wrong, I love them just as much as anyone, but even I can admit that they each have other respective ships that can be enjoyed just as much.

Anyways - Ishimondo!

Absolute dorks in love + nothing but respect and love on their parts. It takes a while for them to realize it's a romantic love instead of some brotherly bond as Taka puts it, but once they figure it out it's smooth sailing from there.

Taka encourages rational behavior and responsibilities, whilst Mondo encourages relaxation and realistic ideals. Together they're a good dynamic.

Nerd x former bully/moral compass x delinquent/rivals to lovers. A recipe for success.

Since they've been talked about to death, I won't elaborate much more on them.

But overall, they're a great couple together.

Owamiki

A FAVORITE AHHHHHHHHH

They're literally one of the sweetest pairings and it's a crime they aren't talked about enough. And yeah they never really interact like Taka and Mondo, but that one scene in the V3 Bonus Mode just kills me every dAMN TIME.

I adore them so much UGH - literally the only ship that made me wanna write fanfiction (and I did but we won't talk about that)

Anyway so timid shy girl x brash delinquent let's go.

Mondo definitely fell for her first. Thought she was a damn sweetheart from the moment he laid eyes on her - it only intensified whenever they ran into each other (ex the scene I referenced). Mondo absolutely adores her.

Mikan was oblivious to this and it took Ibuki and Mahiru pointing it out to her for her to notice. God she got so embarrassed and scared over the whole thing, thinking he was just some brute.

Ibuki was the first one to notice that Mondo actually REALLY liked her for her. And then she decided to help Mondo a bit because Ibuki is a matchmaker and I'm tired of pretending she's not.

With Ibuki's advice, Mondo is actually able to approach Mikan without shouting at her (however difficult it was) and expresses his feelings. She decides to give him a chance - after having a moment of confusion and fear once again - and agrees to go on a date.

And y'all. Mondo treats her so good. His volume is still hard to control but he goes out of his way to make her comfortable and happy and it both shocks and confuses Mikan that he actually wants to date her for her.

So they eventually get together!!!! Ibuki is very proud of herself for setting em up and constantly teases them about it.

They're the cliche highschool sweethearts you see in every movie and they're just adorable.

They adore each other - it's really sweet. Mondo thinks she's the cutest thing in the world and it takes every ounce of willpower to not squeal whenever she giggles or acts cute. Same goes for Mikan - she thinks he can be really sweet and adorable, despite his intimidating exterior. Almost like a big dog.

In public they only ever hug - PDA is too much for either of them, but on rare occasions they can be seen hugging, either Mikan hugging his midsection or Mondo wrapping an arm around her shoulders to hold her close.

Mondo is also very protective of her - he encourages her to stand up for herself as well, and doesn't butt into situations where she's got her friends to back her up. That doesn't mean he'll stand back and watch someone harass her - he will intimidate the other until they back off. Mikan doesn't support his violent tendencies at all.

OMG I REALIZED ITS THAT "BIG SCARY DOG PRIVILEGE" MEME HAHAHAHA

That's it that's their dynamic.

It gets better if Mondo's gang learns about her.

She's earned herself a pack of personal bodyguards who won't tolerate shit from anyone.

But anyways, they both stand to have a very sweet and heartwarming dynamic. Between the both of them, they have a relationship built on love, understanding, and mutual respect for one another.

Owagiri

A stoic introverted detective with the foul-mouthed biker delinquent. What more could you want?

God you know Mondo was the first to catch feelings. Albeit her initial cold exterior, Mondo wanted to know more, even after becoming friends (via Makoto), slowly turning into a crush on the mysterious detective.

Leon called him crazy for crushing on the "scary principal's daughter"

Taka and Chihiro were nothing but supportive and encouraging about the whole ordeal.

Daiyas only piece of advice was "Don't be a dick and just talk to her" Easier said than done of course.

But of course we all know his track record with other girls. The man started shouting at her again, much to his embarrassment and to Kyokos disappointment.

It only took some investigating on her end to figure out why he was acting so strange. And OH BOY WAS SHE FLABBERGASTED.

Mondo??? Likes her??? Impossible.

But as she looked at him with this whole new perspective, she slowly started to develop her own feelings. While he struggled to talk to her, Kyoko took a different approach to show her own interest. Subtle touches, faint smiles, more one on one time, subtle signs like that.

It slowly went like that until they both had a talk about their relationship. Then they agreed to give it a shot!

And my god it was a weird change.

Two people, infamous for hiding their emotions from others. Sounds like a disaster. And yet, they slowly start to adapt and change together.

They're both very quiet about the relationship, still trying to adjust and go about it at their own pace.

They're both very shy about any sort of affection or intimacy, finding it difficult to initiate. Although Kyoko quickly discovered she likes to play with Mondos hair when it's freshly washed and down.

That slowly evolved into cuddling sessions - Kyoko playing with his hair while Mondo simply enjoys her company. It only grows from there.

They're pretty casual about the relationship the more they lean into the whole idea, but they've grown pretty close - as friends and as partners.

Despite their initial setbacks, they actually make a sweet couple. Kyoko acts as the voice of reason, whilst Mondo shows Kyoko how to loosen up a bit and enjoy their school life.

Their dynamic is essentially rivals to lovers (if you count THH ch. 2/a non despair AU where their personalities just conflict) and/or badass/stoic person (Kyoko) x person who thinks that's the coolest thing ever and adores them very much (Mondo)

It's honestly a very mature relationship - built on lots of communication and learning from each party. Of course, no relationship could work without communication or understanding. With both parties being Kyoko and Mondo, once they get past both their setbacks and misunderstandings, they have potential to be a power couple. And even if it doesn't work out in the end, they would still have a strong friendship after the fact. A brain x brawn duo always has the potential to be a strong dynamic.

CRIME FIGHTING DUO FOR THE WIN BABYYYYYY

[techramonic]

Not to be opinionated and leaning towards anti-establishment when it comes to politics but me and a buddy of mine irl who I converse to regarding true crime info since he's also well-versed, conversed regarding Timothy McVeigh and there were some interesting remarks both him and I shared.

The question came up: was Tim really a white supremacist or did he only associate with them due to shared anti-government sentiments?

Both of us honestly think he was the latter. In a series of letters he sent to his friend, Bob Popovich, one of his last letters written from death row on May 3, 2001 highlighted his sentiments and motives regarding bombing the Murrah Building, mentioning that it was primarily motivated by his perception of escalating federal aggression He saw the government's actions in raids like Waco and Ruby Ridge as incidents increasing militarization and violence by federal agencies, and with these, the government was using military tactics against its citizens. So, by targeting a federal building, he aimed to retaliate and send a message preemptively addressing widespread government abuses.

The bombing was also driven by his frustration with the failures of non-violent approaches to address these abuses and hold federal agents accountable. He thought legal and political systems still didn't address government misconduct, so the violence was necessary to make a statement. The bombing was like a strategic response to a government he saw as corrupt and increasingly hostile.

Also, In Ted's thoughts on Tim, he wrote:

“McVeigh is considered to belong to the far right, and for that reason some people apparently assume that he has racist tendencies. But I saw no indication of this. On the contrary, he was on very friendly terms with the African-American inmates here and I never heard him make any remark that could have been considered even remotely racist. I do recall his mentioning that prior to the Gulf War, he and other soldiers were subjected to propaganda designed to make them hate the people they were going to fight, but when he arrived in the Persian Gulf area he discovered that the “enemies” he was supposed to kill were human beings just like himself, and he learned to respect their culture.”

McVeigh also shared his views with Ted that the American far right has two branches: the fascist/racist one and the non-racist, individualistic, and “freedom-loving” one—which I believe he's referring to himself with the latter part which is why he tried to make this distinction.

McVeigh being racist however still may hold significant truth to it because he was full of secrecy and with the confidence and charisma he held when talking to others, I believe that lying could still be well involved in the equation. In addition to this, unsure if it's a change of setting or a sort of propaganda during the time of the bombings, but allegedly during his time in the military, McVeigh was known to give and assign undesirable jobs to black service members.

Despite everything, it's still clear that he's truly anti-establishment and wanted most of the damage to be directed to the federal government more than anything. It's quite unfortunate because he did make agreeable points. Yes, the government is bad and it wants to control you. You know, the 1984 quote:

“WAR IS PEACE. FREEDOM IS SLAVERY. IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH.”

It's an ironic propaganda that people were taught to force a mindset of ignorance so that they'll be under the government's ease and control—which is dystopianly realistic.

McVeigh didn't have to resort to such great lengths and drastic measures to blow up a whole damn building with so many innocent onlookers. Truly, it's stupid. With the particular fact that he ironically called the whole situation “tragic” when he went on an interview for 60-Minutes. Buddy of course it is but YOU did it.

I don't think it mattered to him when he had some sort of grimm mentality of sacrificing “a few" lives to spare a whole lot more from this said oppression. What's even sadder is that it still didn't truly work. Many people are still sheep that are chained to do the government's biddings, sometimes only for the purpose of inflating their already gigantic and vain egos, because that is what was embedded within their values. Die for the country thay country never dies for you but kills you

and that's the tragedy—the event wasn't inevitable and could've been prevented but nothing is more real than committing a thing so drastic because no one will care until something happens that will permanently change the course of everything, even for the worse. Nobody listens until someone dies, but with so many dead, why feel the need to listen at all? 

The government fucking sucks, and it will always suck because people in power are only bound to stay in power if they abuse because power means to take control. It's good that people are slowly exercising their rights, but consider places around the world that don't have the privilege to be as woke as America, especially non-first world countries. Funny to say that because their ignorance is a privilege to their respective governments.

There are many negative things that take place when the people allow their government to extort power for total control. The totalitarian regime of manipulating innocent minds into conceptualizing anything they please, so

anyhow, I just basically described to you the concepts in George Orwell's book, 1984. That book is amazing and you should go and check it out because kinda reminds me of Tim McVeigh's ideologies.

[luvtonique]

"Hey I can't help but notice you stopped preaching the good word of the Gumbo Brigade. Why is that?"

"Oh, I preached their word, defended them and was actively part of them for over a decade of my life, and they kept attacking me, trying to destroy my career, psychologically manipulating me, verbally insulting me, and trying to justify horrifying criminal activity such as straight up protecting pedophilia and violent felons. Plus, they stole thousands of dollars from me, forced me into the darkest depression I've ever been in, attempted to actually kill me for real, and when I went public about getting multiple of them arrested for actually owning CP, they attacked me and my reputation so heavily that to this day people think I'm heavily against their movement and am an evil person and they even said that about me when I was literally part of their movement. Also, literally every single friend I have that's part of the Gumbo Brigade is borderline psychotic and impossible to have a normal conversation with because of how constantly they talk about how evil they think everyone else is and how they want other people to die for disagreeing with them on trivial matters, and multiple of them have blocked me for speaking out against such serious things as pedophilia and felony crimes that I am and always have been very strongly against. I also came to notice that my friends who are either middle-ground, non-political or a supporter of Mombino have been very respectful, easy to talk to and human to me."

"So you're a Mombino Supporter, then?"

"I'm a good person supporter. Don't care what you believe as long as you're a good person."

"Alright. Just finished filling out your EvilFuckingAssholesPedia page saying you're a Mombino Supporter and you would vote for Hitler."

"What?"

"You cannot send messages to this person because they have blocked you."

--

See the funny part is people are gonna think this is a joke or that I'm making this up because it sounds unbelievable but literally every single word of this is 100% true whether your bitch ass believes it or not, and this literally happened to me (but it was KiwiFarms) a month ago.

Just letting everyone know, you can be an activist all you want, that's fine, but when a fucking overwhelming majority of the attacks against your character, your career, your financial wellbeing, your family, etc. are coming from the people that you're an activist for? Maybe you're an activist for a group of people who you should not be an activist for. Just maybe. Just maybe those people are psychopaths and you need to put your picket sign down and just go home and focus on yourself and maybe, just maybe, JUST MAYBE, rethink who exactly those people are that you're defending.

Like if I'm doing a fundraiser for the Gumbo Brigade, and the Gumbo Brigade is literally making hate-posts about me telling people not to give me money because I'm Gumbophobic

I think I'm just gonna stop doing the fucking goddamn fundraiser and tell you stupid fucking idiots to eat shit

Seriously, my guy, my dude, my man, if the people you're supporting are manipulating and attacking and emotionally abusing you

You're not a freedom fighter

You're a cornered abuse victim begging your abuser to love you

I got out and I've been happier in the last 2 years since than I've ever been in my literal entire life

You should get out, too.

PS: Best part about this post is Gumbo Brigade supporters have such terrible reading comprehension that they won't even know this post is about them.

[vtuberconfessions]

As Uki Violeta “is racism against white people real racism” is the trending topic right now, I want to put in my two cents as a half-white person living in a predominantly non-white country.

White people receive tend to receive racism in the same way French people and English people are racist towards each other. It can be real! There can be real animosity! It can be genuinely isolating and uncomfortable to try and interact with someone who will automatically think of you as less worthy of respect and take you less seriously.

When you’re in an Asian or other non-majority white country, worse stuff can happen too. People won’t take you seriously as a candidate for job offers, possibly leaving you unemployed. When you try to date, people who thought liked you as a person may only be dating you as the “exotic option”. You’re isolated because nobody really wants to mark themselves as the first person to be a friend with the new white-adjacent guy in town.

(These all happen to black people too btw.)

That is all racism. To see the world and treat people different according to their race. Uki Violeta is in that sense racist. However, you may note, that none of the people who have ever made fun of me or excluded me in this country have ever, and this is key: been descended from someone who kept one of my ancestors in a concentration camp, or as a slave.

I am descended from Korea and Latvia. Korean women were historically kept as sex slaves by Imperial Japan during WWII. One of my great grandfathers was arrested and put in a Nazi concentration camp. Both sides experienced racially motivated, horrific war crimes. I feel very attached to both parts of my history, and if I ever saw a Neo-Nazi or Russian Imperialist say “oh, the Baltics aren’t real countries”, or a Japanese Imperialist said “those women probably liked it”, I would fucking throw hands so, so fast.

I have now listed three types of fairly serious racism, that many cultures, even white people, face:

A) Reminder of Atrocity that members of one ethnic group committed against another, with an implied threat to do it again. (Read: Anti-semitism, “Indigenous people are savage and should be Civilised”, “The confederates won/should have won the American civil war”)

B) Rejection from being part of the natural fabric of society. (Read: When you speak French in France and nobody is willing to speak to you in French and subtly belittle you for not sounding native. When people double take when you walk into a room because you don’t look like the average person. When none of your classmates are willing to take the first step to be friends with you and so you spend each lesson alone.)

C) Hostility between semi-equals. (Those annoying ass [neighboring country people], they eat [insulting food] and all talk like this [offensive accent].)

Uki Violeta is American. Unlike other places, say Ireland or Eastern Europe, White people in America have not been the victims of mass atrocities and the mass eradication of culture. Unlike China, Japan, or India, non-white people do not hold the keys to the gates of community and most social groups. The things Uki Violeta says, in the grand scheme of things, is most equivalent to those memes about how Italian people all talk like “a Mama Mia, a Pizza Pie ina my Stomacharoni!”

So yeah, Uki Violeta is racist. But because of just how much goddamn racism black people deal with in America, a lot of people seem to think that racism means “that thing when people are mean to Black People, and it’s really really bad and awful”. But like… it’s not just that. It’s just a way of being an asshole without thinking, of treating someone as a representation of the stereotypes about their race. And White Americans are pretty lucky to have their stereotypes be “kinda annoying” and “too friendly” and not “rapist”, “greedy rat”, “violent terrorist” or “inferior, disobedient slave”.

TL;DR: “Oh, what Uki Violeta is saying is racist, imagine if you replaced “White” with “Black”, then you’d see it!” I mean sure. But also, what if you replaced “White” with “The French”? It’d still be kinda racist but you can see how it’s also not that big of a deal right? Uki is an asshole and you can choose not to watch him, but if you’re not already watching him you don’t have to go on about it. Move to Japan or something and then you can complete about racist people you actually have to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

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