#i was bullied and harassed mercilessly for it

[romeoandromeo]

.

[favroitecrime]

also adding to that last post, she’s a new artist. this is only her second album after 2 years of having had the previous album release. why would a new artist trying to make a permanent name for herself rebrand so early😭

[faustandfurious]

Anyway my stance on fiction and online harassment is shaped by the fact that I had unrestricted access to the local library from about the age of 8 and read quite a few books with fucked up content that I might have been a bit too young for and that caused absolutely no long-term damage to my mental health; meanwhile I was bullied mercilessly by my peers for several years and I’m still dealing with after-effects of that.

[skeletaltoad]

I genuinely hope you get mental help, cause it's sad that you are saying so much shit. Please actually think before you speak. I hope you have a good day/night.

i genuinely hope you eat shit

[h34rtbeat]

Could you please make a fic abt bully jake and heeseung with heavy non con?

i loveee this idea sm. Ty anon.

warnings: non-con, sexual harassment, blackmail, assault, mean!jake and mean!heeseung

school is supposed to be fun. it’s supposed to be a place where you feel safe, and secure.

instead, you’re stuck between two guys in the musky lockers, your ass being used as a fleshlight for the meanest guys in school. uniform skirt flipped up, so that the camera they use to record you captures all the angles they like.

fucking into your cunt and mouth mercilessly, swearing they’d show everyone in the school just how fucking dumb you are.

planting deep hot seeds inside of you, making you swallow and spasm. maybe someday, they’d send those pretty nudes of yours out to the entire football team. who knows?

it started off as harmless names. sometimes sexual, yes, but nothing you couldn’t ignore.

names like “doll face”, escalated into insulting your appearance, small jokes about your appearance turned into shaming you, and so on..

starting to trip you, just so they could see your tits jiggle when you stumbled. jake especially, enjoyed when your skirt would flip up a bit as you’d fall onto your own face.

heeseung liked it when he would throw things off your desk. watching your cute ass bend over, picking up the pencil and notebook, the way you nibbled on your bottom lip when you became scared.

jake enjoyed seeing your teary eyes beg him to stop, when he locked you in an empty classroom, as his hands roamed around areas they shouldn’t.

he likes it even more, when his spit coated cock was between your lips, as you chocked and gagged on it. it wasn’t your fault, it was your first! and he liked that even more.

the more power he held, the better. now he has your first oral experience, how can you not like him!

“mhm— hmph—! mh-no! d-don’t.. mmm.. refroctg.!” you choked out, begging him as you looked up with tear stained cheeks into the camera. your words muffled the fat cock stretching your lips.

“or what? you gonna tell someone?” jake chuckled mockingly, a moan slipping past his lips as you sucked and slurped.

“they’d find it hard to believe that a prissy bitch like you could ever get dick. now shut up and keep sucking, or i send this to your friends.”

heeseung shoving you in the janitors closet, flipping your skirt up and ripping your tights, his fingers going deep into your sopping cunt. you held his hand over your mouth.

your knees, tempting to buck, the way you thrashed against him as his fingers did a brutal assault on your puffy pussy.

heeseung didn’t like recording, you belonged to him anyway. and you knew it. besides, what was the point of threatening you? a nerd like you wouldn’t ever snitch on him, he knew.

“stop fuckin’ moving..” he says, in your ear.

“you must really wanna be seen with some fingers in your pussy or somethin’..” he cooed, curling his fingers.

he was hitting a spot inside of you that made you scream against his hand.

“you act like you don’t enjoy it..” he chuckles, dipping his fingers in your mouth now, making you gag.

“but.. you’re dripping. bet you wouldn’t like it if i showed it to mr. sam, yeah?” he mocks, grunting as you came all over his fingers.

starting actions from those, led to them having their way with you every time.

even sending nudes to them, as you obviously didn’t want to. threatening to show everyone, when you even tried refusing them.

your perky tits, bouncing up and down, bare in jake’s room as he shoved his cock deep inside, your throat stuffed. jake couldn’t get enough, snapping pictures of the obscene sight.

your bullies liked you, really.

[deramin2]

Essek constantly gushing about his partner but pointedly not giving his name hits me so hard in the feels.

Two formative childhood experiences for me:

ONE

I was severely, mercilessly bullied as a child at every school I went to even if they're was no overlap of kids, and authority figures either ignored me or directly told me it was my fault. I was socially toxic. Any other kid who publicly associated with me was also targeted for harassment. I was best friends with a girl around the corner but because I was a couple years younger (in itself an invitation for bullying) and a parish, we could never let anyone know we were friends.

I've been told I should be upset at her for this, but it wasn't her fault. It was the other children who made it a fact that she would be harmed by publicly being my friend. She didn't make those rules, we were both just honest that it existed and there was nothing we could do to change that. The best we could do to survive was at least protect her. And that benefited me by actually having a friend.

So if we talked about each other it was"my friend." No names. No acknowledging we knew each other in public. No introductions to other friends. Keeping that divide up was necessary to survival. I had a couple friends on the same freak level as we and we were in fact targeted with additional harassment to get to the other person. It was a legitimate threat to live with. At some point I just stopped thinking it was ever necessary to reveal who my friends or family are unless it's both explicitly relevant and necessary.

TWO

I learned to use the internet in the late 1990s when anonymity was considered a best practice. Don't give out your age, sex, location, or other identifying information. You don't know who is on the other side of that screen or what they will do to you if they know. Sperate your online and offline worlds to protect yourself.

This helped reinforce experience one because clearly adults also acted like those kids and this just normal human behavior no one will ever put a stop to that you need to be on guard for at all times. Build in air gaps so if one of you is compromised it's harder for the perpetrator to get to other people you care about. Defending them through anonymity is a way of showing you love them.

Also since some family are searchable through have state government jobs that right-wing nut jobs chips target them for, I wanted to make sure they couldn't be connected to me as a queer trans disabled person active online. In case something I said led to them being targeted.

(This is correct advice, even though it flies in the face of modern online conventions. There are tons of malicious people on three internet who will target you and anyone you love if they decide to hurt you.)

RESULT

By default, I refer to people by their relationship to me, not their name. My friend, my partner, my parent, my family, someone I know, etc. Often I avoid gendering them to make it even harder to identify them. I have to consciously consider if the person I'm talking to has any reason to know my associate's name. Blacklist everyone, then whitelist exceptions.

I do this even if both people know each other because the specific association feels dangerous. Better to be viewed as acquaintances than a meaningful relationship that changes how either of us could be viewed. It's not even really a judgement on thinking the person is untrustworthy, I just don't want to spend any extra energy thinking about it. It doesn't even feel relevant because my relationship to this person fellas like it conveys more information that actually matters.

ESSEK

Essek knows both he and Caleb are being targeted by powerful people who have shown they will target loved ones to get to them. Additionally, tensions between the Empire and Dynasty are still high and it could very easily compromise how their own sides view them if it's known that they're romantically entangled with someone from the other side. It could also blow each other's cover and make their meeting places more vulnerable to attack. Especially if their enemies know they could hit both of them at once.

It's genuinely dangerous for their connection to be known, so they don't name names. It's not even a matter of whether Bell's Hells would intentionally misuse that information, but what they also could just let slip to the wrong person. It's not really worth the risk when "my partner" is all the information they actually need to understand him.

My guess is that Essek said "Bren" is hiss partner because they already know a Bren sent them to Astrid. And since Caleb no longer uses the name Bren it would be much harder to connect them. It would have caused more questions, more prying, and more risk to give no name for his partner when directly pressed. So he gives a truthful but less dangerous answer. The anonymity is an act of love.

[nateconnolly]

“I have tried to show you what I am,” says Barb, the protagonist of one of the most controversial short stories ever written. “I have tried to do it without judgment. That I leave to you.”

Barb comes from I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter by Isabel Fall, a science fiction story about gender and imperialism. It was Fall’s first published story. There was no backlog of stories to analyze, and her author’s bio was sparse. Readers weren’t given any information about Fall’s gender identity, but that didn’t stop activists from speculating. “… this reads as if it was written by a straight white dude who doesn’t really get gender theory or transition,” complained Arinn Dembo, President of the science fiction writers’ collective SF Canada. The author Phoebe Barton even compared the story to a weapon against trans people: “Think of it as a gun,” she tweeted. “A gun has only one use: for hurting.” N.K. Jemison joined in, tweeting, “Artists should strive to do no (more of this) harm.” But Dembo and the hundreds of thousands of others were mistaken about Fall’s supposed cis identity. The publisher responded to the backlash by taking the story down and posting a statement about the author’s identity. Isabel Fall was a transgender woman, and self-identified activists for trans rights bullied her so mercilessly that she attempted suicide. Dembo later adjusted her criticism, saying “a lot of people might have been spared a lot of mental anguish” if Fall had made a statement about her gender identity. Meaning, Fall had a moral obligation to out herself as a trans woman. Both of Dembo’s comments reveal a preoccupation with the author that distracts from the text. The recent obsession with author identities is one of the great failures of contemporary liberal movements. In order to win liberation for any given group, liberal activists must focus less on who speaks and more on what is spoken. 

Roland Barthes’ 1967 essay The Death of the Author argued that an author’s intentions and life experiences do not make the “ultimate meaning” of their text. The author might as well “die” once the text is in the reader’s hands. The text is “a multi-dimensional space” that one cannot simply flatten with biographical details about the author. Barthes has largely been vindicated among literary critics and theorists, but his idea has not been well-received among liberal activists. It is easy to refuse to acknowledge multiple dimensions of a text. Moralistic groups like liberation movements might even be tempted to sort texts into a simple dichotomy—“good” or “bad,” without any gray areas—on the sole basis of the author’s identity. That is exactly what Dembo tried to do: she suggested that Attack Helicopter was bad simply because of the author’s (supposed) gender. 

I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter is not a transphobic story. Although an in-depth analysis would be beyond the scope of this essay, I can confidently say that Fall critiqued American imperialism, not transgender people. I think that would be clear to anyone who reads the story. But apparently, reading a story is no longer a necessary step in the process of interpreting it. Barton—who suggested her fellow trans woman was a “gun”-wielding transphobe—had not actually read the story. Jemison also admitted she had not read the story before tweeting that it was harmful. We now have a complete reversal of Barthes’ idea: this method of moralistic interpretation is nothing less than the death of the text.

Fall is far from the only queer storyteller to face backlash for allegedly not being queer. Becky Albertalli, Kit Connor (who was still a teenager), and Jameela Jamil all came out of the closet because they were harassed for telling queer stories as “straight” and “cis” people. It is a common talking point in activist circles that the government should not compile lists of queer people or forcibly out them. Why, then, do activists engage in the same behavior? It simply is not always safe to admit that you are gay, or trans, or autistic, or epileptic, or that you have had an abortion. The reason that we need liberation movements for these groups is the same reason that people might not want to publicly claim these identities.

You can read the rest on Substack

[submissive-humiliation-slut]

Bullied

Oh what I would not give to have a woman take deep pleasure in sexually bullying me over extended periods of time. Don't get me wrong - being bullied by a strong man is thrilling. But women tend to be so much more vicious and cruel.

It would start small. A snide look, a casual sexualised comment, a berating remark... at work, in the gym, at a social engagement, at our home when they are over with all our friends... And it would escalate... slowly but progressively and then blow out in a dizzying spiral...

Call me whore, slut, fuck toy under your breath. Talk about my body, my appearance and my sexuality in hushed tones so I just hear it.

Then start saying it to my face. Ask me sexualised questions in public to make me uncomfortable. Talk down to me and berate me for being a worthless whore who just needs to be r4ped, abvsed and used. Ask me to deny it. When I am unable to - laugh in my face. If I protest, slap me to shut me up.

Come up behind me in a public place and whisper degrading things... tell me how you know my cunt gets wet when I am am being sexually harassed... reach into my panties and wet your fingers in my soaking cvnt. Bring them to my nose and make me smell myself to make your point.

Grope, grab and molest me every chance you get. Do it in my home, at work, in the gym... every chance you get. Keep me nervous constantly about when you will molest me.

Threaten to have me gang r4ped and mercilessly beaten if I don't do everything you say. Then make me strip naked, kneel and rub myself as I tell you how much I want to watch my younger sister be r4ped. Make me cum at the most humiliating point. Video all of this and blackmail me.

Pimp me out to fund your luxury lifestyle. If I protest, show me the video and threaten to send it to my family. Film me being a whore and post it on porn sites. Make me tell you when a male friend recognises me from the porn video and randomly feels me up at will.

Make me quit my job and work as a waitress on minimum wage. Make me cook, clean, look after your home. Use me to satisfy you in any way you see fit and be your toy to use, abvse and bully forever...

Gosh!

[mxlissaliss]

Gleam Reaper (RoR Hades x Fem!Reader)

⚠️ TWs/CWs: Mentions of drugs , harassment , dead bodies , implied suicide and manipulation ⚠️

Words: 4,4K

Part: 1/3

Notes: Reader here is far from a saint. Here lays a twisted woman with too much power and little to no supervision. It's okay, Hades loves y'all anyway and is all in for the chaos.

Also, it's a kind of platonic-ish relationship at the moment. Might need to see how I lead it to a romantic halt in the near future. First time writing something like this btw, hope you like it if it even reaches anyone :P

***

Red lights, obnoxious music, sweaty people and drugs; that's the perfect recipe for either a great party, or a disaster. And in most cases, it's both.

When you are the God of the Underworld, you grow familiar with the many ways mortal lives end, especially young ones. Tragic to most, any other Tuesday to Hades. After all, eons of experience can toughen anyone's heart and make even the most appalling situation just an everyday occurrence, and a party like the one he had just sneaked in was full of these fateful events.

As he loved to say, death was always around the clock, which was a literal sentence when it came to his job. He leaned against a wall with his arms folded over his chest, an amused expression on his otherwise stoic face. The place was a complete mess, and it was easy to see.

Right next to him lied a deceased young man on the cold floor, eyes and mouth open dismally. The poor lad drank some spiked booze from a nearby table, and it seemed that he was quite the lightweight. Or perhaps he had already done drugs prior to that incident and ended up overdosing. Either way, he took note of that corpse as the first one of many to claim that night.

‘Hm, I wonder how they can talk to each other when I can barely hear my own inner monologue? It's absolutely deafening in here.’ Hades thought as the DJ turned up the music to a further level, and he swore that the speakers were about to catch on fire.

Though, more distracting than the ear-splitting tune in the background was that most of the women around would stop dancing to occasionally throw suggestive glances at him, a kind of visual language that Hades knew pretty well. No God could ever be a stranger to seduction, and he was well aware of the effects his divine appearance had on mortals; his tall stature and broad shoulders caught everyone's attention the second he stepped into the place. He was the highest individual in the room, a quality that only added more charm to his already handsome features. Perfectly chiseled chest and torso that paired up heavenly with the black, tight sweater he was wearing to appear more human-like in his attire, those well-defined arms and athletic legs that couldn't be completely hidden under his gray pants, a sharp jawline, snow-white skin that looked so soft yet untouchable, that godforsaken greek profile and moist, rosy lips. Breathtaking.

But his never-ending beauty was only enhanced by his silvery, wavy hair that looked somewhat messy despite being nearly styled. It moved graciously with each step he took, his slim fingers running through it every so often to brush it away from his forehead as his deep violet eyes searched carefully for his next victim. Oh, how divine he was, and he knew it.

“Help, someone…” The desperate cries of a young woman could be heard from the nearest bathroom, and his sharp ears caught the pitiful plea with ease even through the loud noise. The door was cracked open, and he could catch a glimpse of what looked like your local high school bullies cornering a younger couple with ease.

What a sad sight, humans really seem to not know better sometimes… Aha, there it was! All he had to do was turn his head to the opposite direction and he saw it, yet another dead person on the floor. Well, almost dead. It was a woman convulsing mercilessly on the ground as a group of panicked people tried stop the seizure by holding her limbs still. What a stupid thing to do. They were just making it worse and more agonizing for the poor lady. But it was not Hades' place to intervene, and even if he wanted to, he would not. When death knocks on your door, there is only so much any God other than Thanatos can do.

Besides, the more people that died, the more souls his domain would possess. So he smirked slightly to himself and turned back, walking away to the opposite direction. That summed up two deaths already. The night was looking good so far, and it was only starting.

But even after countless minutes of searching, he couldn't find the person he was looking for; the “Gleam Reaper”, as he liked to call you, since you were like a precious jewel shining among the dark grip of death. A gorgeous, gorgeous woman usually dressed in stylish black clothes, with fancy and neatly polished nails, always preying on mean mortals in the brink of death. You were once a human that died at a party when a group of browbeaters took advantage of your vulnerability, and then things got out of hand. A mess of a party, just like the one the King of the Underworld had just attended to with the purpose of finding you.

He had the honor of meeting you once your soul made it to Helheim. From what he could grasp, you were not the nicest person to walk on Earth and had earned a first-class flight straight to Tartarus, plan that he was about to execute. But you were awfully calm and accepting of the situation, and for someone that had just learned that their final destination would be the worst place to be in the Realm of the Damned, your peace and quiet was nothing short of intriguing to Hades.

———

“Y/n S/n, eh? Aren't you afraid of the Tartarus?” He asked in an icy tone that served well to hide his amusement. The God came off as uninterested and aloof. Nevertheless, the glimpse of curiosity in his eyes did not go unnoticed by your own sharp ones, something that you used to your favor.

“I regret nothing.” Was all you said.

And surprisingly, that was all you needed to say. You knew it when he kneeled down to cup your face with his thumb and index finger, gently pressing them deeper into your cheeks with the kind of glare you'd only see on someone that has pretentious meanings. “You have so many things to regret, yet I sense no mockery or dishonesty in your tone… Interesting.”

You scoffed, almost offended by his preying eyes upon you. It made you feel like a piece of meat under a lion's nose, and yet, that wasn't even close to enough to make you back off. “I am not afraid of you, God of the Underworld. You do what you want with me, I do not care.”

For the second time, the King of the Underworld was thrilled by your bold attitude. You were either the bravest girl to ever speak with him, or the most foolish and naive little thing he had ever seen. Whatever, that didn't matter at all. You were fascinating, to the point in which your constant way of glaring daggers at him seemed more like a ludicrous attempt of forcing him to let go of you than a move to save your already deceased existence.

And he loved it. He knew that Persephone, Thanatos and the other deities of his realm would love you and your snark.

“So that's how it is, very well. Welcome to the Underworld, Y/n. From now on, I'll make sure that you live as freely and comfortably as possible in the cold embrace of the dead.”

———

Those were some simpler times… Well, not really. It was barely twelve years ago, a pitiful amount of time in the life of an entity that has lived longer than any other among his kin. But back to reality, he shook his head in frustration and kept searching for you.

‘Where is that stubborn lady? We always bump into each other accidentally in the Underworld, yet I can't seem to find her when I actually need something from her…’ He thought again, looking over people's heads endlessly but to no avail, much to his dismay. A swamp of people would have been an appropriate term to describe his surroundings. No matter how hard he tried to set his eyes on different corners, doors or gateways, dancing drunkards were always in the middle to block his gaze, unintentionally.

Now he was starting to get irritated about the amount of individuals cramping the room. And worse of all, he couldn't feel your presence anywhere close to him.

Why did he even need to talk to the Gleam Reaper? Even after a decade of knowing each other, you had never been close enough for him to be so persistent about his urges to see you. He didn't bear romantic intentions, that much he knew, for he already loved Persephone dearly… So, what was this strange craving for amity?

Right, that was it. He wanted a friend, that's why he came here in the first place. And in an opportunity, he made his way through the people to find a not-so-crowded space in the room and slumped down on a couch, paying no mind (or, at the very least, trying) to the annoying couple next to him that couldn't keep their hands to themselves. How inconsiderate, but first, he needed to sort out his thoughts to clear his head.

It's not like you loved to wreak havoc everywhere you went. Hades himself designated you as a deity of chaos at parties specifically, and he knew the reason why; you just liked to be troublesome whenever there were bad people in misfortune around you. Bullies, tormentors, stalkers, harassers… All of them were on your death list, leading it. Similar to what happened to you in your final moments, your Grim Reaper self always lured the lads in and then showed your true colors, by making them end their own lives with their own shaky hands as you watched their lives fade away, keeping them secured in your embrace as your slim fingers stroked their hair. He still couldn't tell if you really enjoyed their misery, or if you just pitied them.

The latter sounded more accurate to him. Perhaps that's why you only went after those whose days were already counted. No point in torturing a healthy and innocent individual when you could “free” a tortured soul from their torment, and you did it because said souls also tortured others. You hated those that would cause pain to others just to deal with their own.

Even though you were pretty much doing the same thing you despised the most now as a deity, you told yourself that you were their karma. That was your twisted mindset, and he was all in for it.

And so he remembered his brief encounter with Poseidon earlier that day. Time to daydream again…

———

The Tyrant of the Seas was never fond of those pesky mortals that Gods were supposed to watch over. Those creatures were ungrateful, worthless and useless, just as much as they were unhinged. The mere thought of humans made him feel sick.

And yet, there he was, listening to his eldest brother rambling about the possibility of hiring a mortal, the lowest form of life, as an assistant to reduce the workload. Hades was never one to complain about his duties nor his struggles. As the eldest, he'd always thought that it was his duty to shoulder everything on his own to keep his siblings safe, and his domain was no exception. No burden could ever be heavy enough for him not to carry alone.

Except for boredom, that is. Though, it was more of a consequence than mere mental strain. Persephone had recently made her trip back to Mount Olympus to reunite with her mother, and while Hades was well aware that the following six months were going to be just the same as the others, a strange feeling of restlessness was keeping him awake at night.

Actually, it had gotten him so distracted lately that he had been trying to read the same book for over two weeks now, stuck in the same page. A task that would usually take him two days or three at most.

“Utterly unnecessary.” Said Poseidon in his characteristic monotonous tone, cold blue eyes piercing straight into Hades'. What his brother had just proposed came off as both ridiculous and undignified, and he'd rather be struck by lightning than agreeing with him. Physical defeat would be way less humiliating, he thought.

“I might need a companion. Not a lover, for I already have my wife, but perhaps a friend to pass the time with me while I am at my office to make the silence more tolerable.” Hades spoke back immediately, already having anticipated his younger brother's protests. He was unamused at his reaction, and yet, somewhat disappointed by his disapproval.

The younger God didn't respond to the suggestion, remaining stone-faced as his eyes were set on his brother's. Typical Poseidon.

Hades sighed, leaning back on his throne before speaking again, “An assistant would be a pleasant addition to my everyday routine, don't you think?” Asked the King of the Underworld with a tinge of intrigue, trying to gauge a better response from Poseidon this time. “Someone to sign the less important papers for me, or deliver the weekly letters when I can't do it myself.”

“You can do it yourself. You must do it yourself. You mustn't rely on anyone else,” Poseidon said sternly, showing the slightest bit of frustration at the God of the Underworld's insistence. “You are a God, and Gods do not rely on others.”

“This is not a matter about reliance, brother.”

Well, no more words were said for the next twelve minutes, which gave Hades the impression that their brief exchange had ended abruptly with no hopes to be resumed. The albino twirled a strand of his smooth, silky hair around his index finger as a reflex, deep in thought and possibly unaware of his elegant fashion.

Sure, he understood Poseidon's point, at least for the most part; Gods have always been self-sufficient and naturally independent. Hades himself had been working alone in the Underworld for as long as his immortal mind could remember, assisted only by his wife during the span of months that she spent with him in the realm of the death. He's never had enough trouble to seek for help from anyone. Not when he was younger, not during the Titanomachy, and definitely not on his daily tasks since then.

So, why was he suddenly so adamant about hiring an assistant for the mere purpose of companionship? It didn't make sense to him, let alone to Poseidon.

On the other hand, he couldn't just ignore the feeling any longer, constantly nagging at the back of his mind. What was it, even? Was the routine he'd been keeping for eons finally catching up to his wit? Hades couldn't even recall the last time he had longed to do something exciting, other than contacting Beelzebub whenever he needed something from the Lord of the Flies. And the more he tried to find a reason, the more confusing it became. It was frustrating, that much he could figure out by himself.

And the awkward silence in the throne room was doing little to quell his impatience, so eventually, the God of the Underworld added something out of ennui.

“I'll go for a human, preferably deceased. That way I won't have to drag anyone down to the Underworld, as it'd be a hass-“ But Hades was interrupted by Poseidon standing up hastily, not even turning back to bid farewell. Surprised much? No, not really, Hades was expecting that, but he hoped that the Sea God would at least listen to the entire proposal. How arid.

Though there was no point in complaining, anyway.

—————

Ah, what a pleasant talk during some wholesome quality time with his little brother. Just remembering the way Poseidon's knuckles grope harder the edges of the throne's armrests at the mere mention of a human made Hades chuckle to himself. The Tyrant of the Seas could be quite comical without wanting to, but he'd never say it aloud if he wanted to make it out in one piece.

Perhaps the younger God was right, no? Even if he made friends with the Gleam Reaper, nothing would guarantee that those feelings would go away. Maybe time would tell…

‘Time to get out of here. Leaving my domain for a whim like this was an inadequate move on my reco- … Now, just what in the old world is this?’

Just when the King of the Underworld was about to take his leave, a familiar item rolled up to his feet; a pill, and not just any pill, but a psychedelic capsule. What an intriguing sight, Hades thought, so he got off of the couch and crouched down to carefully examine it, trying to see where it came from.

Judging by the nearby people's reactions and stares, it came from the balcony next to him. The glass doors were covered with wine colored tulle curtains, which distorted the view of the folks outside that were surely enjoying themselves among their own “privacy”. But one thing he was certain of is that the ergoline in his hands came from there, specifically, from the small opening on the left door.

And that was all he needed to know.

“Gotcha.” Spoke aloud the Undead God, smirking at nothing in particular as he rose to his feet and brushed off his knees, ready to head off the balcony. Being away from the music would help a ton.

He stored the pill in his pocket and opened the door fully to the terrace, breathing in the fresh air which felt heavenly. The smell of sweat and puke was clogging his nostrils back inside and he didn't even realize it until the fresh breeze cleared up his nose, allowing him not only to think a bit better, but also admire the scenery before him.

Glass railing that supported the kissing ladies leaning against it, marble flooring that looked spotless, elegant benches made of the same sturdy material, and a breathtaking garden filled with extensive fields of Lavenders. The calming scent of the flowers reached him through the cold, gentle wind of the night, relaxing him further. It was a welcome relief from the mess happening in the party.

It was actually ironic, having thrown a party that turned into pure chaos claiming soul after soul while being right next to a Lavender meadow. That sort of duality was appealing to him. Such was life, he thought.

“Care to explain what are you doing here, King?”

That voice, that tone, those hints of sweet notes in the speech…

He had found you. Or rather, you found him first.

“The Gleam Reaper herself, what a pleasant surprise. I was looking for you, Y/n.” Hades said, smiling softly as he turned to around to look at you closely. “I knew I would find you here.”

“Oh, really? How come?” You smiled back at him, e/c eyes staring into his very soul. For a clever woman like you, Hades had always been a mystery that remained yet to solve. His mind was like a chess board, or rather, a painfully complex puzzle that always seemed to be missing a piece just when you thought you've got it figured out.

And in more ways than one, that was exciting for your deviant heart.

“A crowded room with red lights, funky music and drugs, filled with dumb women, sad girls, high school junkies and men that are desperate for feminine touch…” Hades began smugly, making you laugh.

“… The perfect recipe for disaster.” And you continued, just like the first time you two met after you had turned into a Grim Reaper, a being that collects the souls of those who have perished to take them to the Underworld, to him. Those exact words marked your first ever interaction as immortal beings, and it felt like a breath of fresh air to know that he still remembered them to the letter.

As the sentence ended, the both of you shared a soft sigh, enjoying the comfortable silence that followed for the next five minutes, just gazing over the Lavender garden. Of course, until the Undead God voiced his intentions.

“You know, over the years, I have given you a kind of freedom that others could only wish for. You are a Grim Reaper, yet I have allowed you to be selective with your victims and even the times when you wish to work, and the others, when you just want to slack off. But I've let you rejoice in such privileges because I find you interesting and deserving of my special treatment… So, I came here to ask something of you, Y/n.”

“Then speak, and do it quickly so I can go back to minding my business.” Your tone shifted almost dramatically. One moment you were all in for a good laugh, then your intonation became serious and your words clever. That's just how things worked around the God of the Underworld.

“Alright, I'll go straight to the point.” He said, running a hand through his hair, “I want you to come visit me in my palace, specifically, my office. I've been longing for a companion for quite a while now, and I can't think of anyone else better than you to fit that role.” By the end of the proposal, the albino's violet eyes took on an almost empty look, one that you knew was not idle in the slightest. “What do you say, Gleam Reaper?”

“…” You didn't respond for the first few seconds, seemingly unfazed by his request. But that was okay, he was used to Poseidon and other Gods doing just that every time so he was willing to be patient.

Still, something about his sudden petition seemed off to you. Why would the King of the Underworld, Ruler of Helheim and the Dead, the very Dark God himself want a friend? Because you could see right through him, and whatever kind of “help me with my paperwork” crap he was most likely going to come off with didn't even stun you in the slightest. If anything, it was confusing.

“Two questions. First, why? And second, why me?” You finally answer, leaning back against the mirror-like railing with a raised eyebrow.

Hades simply shrugged, probably just as confused about his own request as you were, “First, I have been feeling quite lonely lately, dwelling in my endless work with only the company of my cockatoo, and occasionally Cerberus when he's not guarding my palace.” He explained, now twirling the same strand of silvery hair in that characteristic manner of his, which you interpreted as him being deep in thought.

“And second?” You asked again, both curious and impatient.

“I think that your presence would be soothing, but if you ask me why, exactly, I might not be able to tell you just yet. I'd rather not think of it as hope, but intuition instead, so to say, a hunch.”

“A hunch? The cunning God of the Underworld is relying on a hunch, of all reasonable excuses to seek for a friend?” Even though you tried not to, an inevitable cackle escaped your pretty lips. Now that was just too humorous to be true. Oh, but you knew that he was being serious, and that was easily the funniest part. “Fine, I'll think about it later. It sounded more like an entreaty than a request, given how humbly you asked for it.”

“I'll take that as a yes, then.” He said with a self-satisfied expression, before turning back to walk toward the doors. It was time to leave for good.

But before he did, Hades stopped in his tracks, not bothering to look back at you. “Before I go, tell me, where are they? I know for a fact that you weren't here just enjoying some alone time and a cigarette.”

“Aha, you witty God.” Just like him, you just shrugged, seeing yourself in the reflection of the doors and using that to raise a hand and point a finger to a certain direction. Hades followed with his eyes through the reflection on the glass and his gaze landed on a not so far away spot; the roof of a small house next to the building they were in, made out of red tiles that looked quite old.

And then, he saw it.

A pile of dead bodies put one on top of the other, almost threatening to slip off of the tiles and fall down grotesquely, much to the disgrace of any passerby underneath. He recognized them almost immediately, they were the ones harassing a couple in the bathroom just half an hour ago. The last bits of humanity in him felt uneasy at the sight of those people tormenting the poor lovers that just wanted to leave, but Hades was way more focused on finding you than questioning his own moral compass.

Now, their flesh was already rotting even though they had died less than an hour ago, something that he knew was only possible because of your wicked abilities and will.

And the more he stared at the scene, the more details he found, and one of those was the fact that every single corpse was holding a needle in their right hand, already used and broken needles.

So that was your doing, he must have known.

“You still prey on broken individuals that wish to find inner peace by making others miserable. They have always been your favorite kind of soul, haven't they, Gleam Reaper?”

No more words were needed, for he just waved a hand to bid farewell and walked past the doors and out of the balcony. You didn't expect any less from him, whatsoever. That's why he came here, because he knew exactly what you would be doing.

You could only watch him walk away and disappear between the crowd, and scowl lightly at his whole drama of having been searching for you when he could have easily found you among mere mortals. Still, you grinned widely knowing that your next visit to the Underworld was going to be quite intriguing. You'd never turn down such a plea, and it was exhilarating.

Then, your eyes moved back to your “masterpiece” of remains and smiled, answering his tacitly rhetorical question with opaque eyes. “What can I say, it makes me feel like home.”

With that, you knew your job was done for the night. Therefore, time to leave as well.

You could only wait in anticipation for your next meeting, and whatever it may bring to the table. Hopefully something worth your precious time.

[the-daily-dreamer]

You know what? I’m not done defending Aemond.

Firstly, Vhagar is the most powerful dragon in the current world, is over 150+ years old, and is not property to be owned and passed on. She had several owners Visenya Targaryen, Baelon Targaryen, Laena Velaryon, and Aemond Targaryen. None of whom were parent child relationships. The entire concept that Vhagar was a birthright is laughable at best. Dragon’s are not hereditarily acquired or passed down. Rhaena Targaryen had no more claim to Vhagar than anyone else who could become a dragonrider.

I can understand that as a young child grieving the loss of her mother, Vhagar is much more valuable to Rhaena and she would assume she could make a claim to her. But in the end, she didn’t. Vhagar wasn’t naturally hers to inherit. Dragons are not property; they are powerful creature that must be earned. And Aemond did just that by being the bravest ten year old and gaining the respect and trust of the most impressive dragon in the show.

Secondly, Aemond was bullied by his shitty brother and (even shittier) cousins, and he proved them all wrong. I keep seeing Targ, or more specifically Rhaenyra, stans talk about how sweet and wonderful Rhaenyra’s kids are, but last I checked sweet kids don’t bully and humiliate their cousin for the fact that they don’t have an extremely important family gift. They know he’s embarrassed by it. They know it bothers him. And they decide it hilarious to further humiliate him by giving him a pig: “the pink dread”. The kids are assholes, and Aemond proved his worth with his action of claiming Vhagar.

I already established he did nothing wrong by claiming a free dragon. But I think it’s even more important to show why he did it. Aemond was bullied and taunted by his cousins and brother for not having a dragon, and he decided to prove to himself and the kids who bullied him that he is brave enough and worthy enough to have a dragon. And not just any dragon, the greatest dragon. It’s a power move to prove himself against his, and he did it masterfully.

Thirdly, Aemond didn’t start the fight. That fight was started by Rhaena and Baela and joined by Jace and Luke. They all sought him out and started picking a fight with him. Rhaena is the one who made the fight first turn physical, and while I never agree with boys hitting girls, I also don’t agree with girls hitting boys. Violence is violence. Rhaena charged at Aemond with intent to hurt him and he pushed her off. He defended himself. Baela then charges at Aemond and punches him, when all he did was push her sister off him. He swings back (not cool but like...you try getting beat up and just taking it). Then all hell breaks loose. The conclusion on this point is that Aemond didn’t start shit. The other kids sought him out and started attacking him. Aemond simply defended himself.

Fourthly, and most importantly, the fight was completely and totally UNFAIR. Four against one is not a fair fight. All four kids circled him while he was on the ground and were mercilessly beating him. Again FOUR. Four kids, eight hands, punching him over and over. He pushed as many as he could off him and grabbed a rock for protection. And then when everyone stopped beating him, he lowered his hand with the rock. He clearly wasn’t going to beat Luke with that rock.

The only time he goes to be violent again is when Jace pulls out a fucking KNIFE on him and goes to stab him over being called a bastard (which is 100% true. The boys are bastards). Only then, when Jace has a knife does Aemond go once again to defend himself with that rock. Only to then get his eye cut out by Luke. Where in that scene does Aemond have anything fair? He’s the same age as these kids. He didn’t instigate anything, he was unfairly being fought by four kids (and winning too), and he defended himself against a knife.

Essentially, Aemond Targaryen is a child, and really didn’t do much wrong in this situation. He was bullied and harassed by his shithead brother and cousins for not having a dragon. He proved himself by gaining the mightiest dragon, which was his right as Vhagar was free to claim and isn’t hereditary property. He was sought out by the same shithead cousins and the Velaryon girls who instigated a physical fight with him and then all ganged up on him and beat him. And then he had his eye cut out for defending himself against a kid who pulled a knife on him.

If you watched any of that scene and thought “Yeah. This kid deserved to be beaten and mutilated by his bullies for taking a free dragon”...then you need help. That scene was disgusting and unfair, and Aemond was right.

[katsigian]

I'm being harassed and bullied mercilessly by the haters because I said that Valen sometimes uses one of those soaps that works for both body and hair. No not Head and Shoulders 3-in-1, I meant like one of those fancy soap bars like this one 😭 he only uses it when he's exhausted and wants to be clean but doesn't want to spend ten hours using ten different soaps in the shower 😭

[p-redux]

Hey lovely. Do you think when Sam gets a girlfriend she will be attacked by some fans for being his girlfriend?

Oh, you sweet innocent lamb. The sad answer is YES.

Every woman Sam has dated, including his longest girlfriends, Abbie Salt (1 year 2015) and Mackenzie Mauzy (2 years 2016-2018) have been mercilessly attacked and bullied by Extreme Shippers, who still think Sam and Cait should be, or are together. Extreme Shippers' modus operandi has always been the same when a new woman enters Sam's life: leave hate comments on her social media, create fake accounts attacking her on social media, contact her family, friends, employers, ex-boyfriends and harass them, make up lies, pretend to be someone from their past, and then say horrible things about them. It's LITERALLY the same thing every time. It's like they have a blueprint or something...or they share the same demented brain. Extreme Shippers will deny this, but it is well documented on my blog and other blogs, with CONCRETE PROOF, that identifiable Extreme Shippers have engaged in this terrible behavior. Not to mention, it is also illegal to engage in cyber bullying.

Soooo, given that past behavior is the best predictor of future behavior, I'd say it's 100 % guaranteed that if Sam gets into another serious relationship, they will both be harassed by Extreme Shippers. Luckily, Sam's SANE fans support him, and the women he dates. And we have no problem calling out the assholes in this fandom aka Extreme Shippers.

And I don't hold out hope this assholery will change even after Outlander is over. If you look at other fandoms that have shippers, for example the Fifty Shades of Grey and Twilight fandoms, they still have shippers pining over Jamie Dornan and Dakota Johnson. And Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart, when all four of them are in long term relationships not with their costars. And the Damie and Robsten shippers are STILL being jerks even years and years later.

At least the numbers will dwindle once Outlander is over because there won't be anymore Outlander related events to "swoon" over Sam and Cait being in the same room. But, the truly delusional will never give up. Never. Sad, but true.

Thanks for stopping by, Anon!

[murdercide626]

Decided to revisit my mad scientist OC, Teddy Krankshaft, and give him a sort of sidekick. Because every good mad scientist needs an "Igor". lol

That little green lump of misery is Melvin Geiger, an unfortunate kid whose life was changed forever when he met Teddy.

Melvin was a normal boy, though pretty sharp and studious for his age, and mercilessly harassed by school bullies for it. But one day he crossed paths with a strange kid named Teddy. Though Melvin was nowhere near his level, Teddy recognized his passion for learning and natural scientific aptitude, so he offered him a position as an assistant. Melvin happily accepted, and helped Teddy in numerous projects.

However, one day there was an accident involving radioactive waste, and Melvin was drenched in the toxic chemicals. This event altered Melvin's biochemistry somehow, and now he can't survive without breathing a specific chemical concoction, having severe asthma attacks if he goes without it for more than five minutes.

But it was thanks to Teddy's quick thinking that he was able to stabilize Melvin's condition after the accident, and for that Melvin has pledged eternal loyalty out of gratitude.

I also reworked Teddy's backstory a bit. So instead of digitally uploading his mind into an android body, he simply transplanted his organic brain into it, being more of a cyborg now. But he does have a small computer attached directly to his brain which allows him to mentally interface with machines.

I should really do something with these characters someday. lol

[chocoramo-cow]

I cant sleep and im just thinking about how much I hate Lily and James potter as characters. Lily had SOOOO much potential as a character but jk rowling just doesn’t know how to write women (fucking ironic yet typical of a terf to reduce women to their most bare minimum). Like lily is the whole ass reason Harry is alive and the whole ass reason Voldemort died the first time yet all she is reduced to is just generally “nice” (which I have beef with considering how she treated her “best friend”), green eyes, smart, and died for her son. Meanwhile James is sooooooo much worse! He goes from arrogant rich pureblood bully jock who threatens to hex a girl if she doesn’t go out with him and mercilessly harassing said girl’s best friend to just marrying said girl??? And like his growth and redemption is just ????? Hes not even really a character at all. I’m so upset that there are so many people who know the Potters who tell Harry about them and it’s always the same three or four things about them yet we, as readers, are supposed to just be like oh no it’s so sad and tragic they died when like they were such deeply unlikable and two dimensional characters??? Like for fucks sake the prophecy said they defied Voldemort THREE times that sounds in theory so badasss and cool and could have made for some very cool lore yet that is not explored at all!

Lily who we are told over and over again is a very nice character really isnt nice at all in all the flashbacks (she blames her best friend for an act she also committed, excuses a group of people trying to kill him and calls him ungrateful for not being thankful they decided to not go through with it to save their own asses but draws the line at dark magic that is implied to not be anywhere close to as dangerous as the prank^tm, almost smiles at her best friend being sexually assaulted, and then dates then marries the guy who committed said SA on her childhood best friend, harassed muggles and threatened to hex her if she didnt date him) yet we’re supposed to be like omg the angel! Like no!

Jk rowling fumbled the potters so absolutely fucking badly and made them deeply unlikable characters!

She could have done SOOOOOO much with James. Have him realize holy shit “I’m subconsciously participating in blood supremacists ideologies let me not do that” and that would have been so interesting! Have him actually grow as a person and show what made him want to fight for what is right have him own up to his mistakes and actually grow!

As for Lily, the whole having a friend who went down the wrong path could have been executed so much better. She could have stuck up for her friend in front of her sister instead of blaming him, she could have told severus “your group of friends are just as bad as the people who are bullying you” instead of “aT LeAsT tHeY dOnT uSe DaRk mAgIc”. It literally would have given her as a character and the story so much more depth to have her actually be upset and heart broken about having to end a long term friendship because it became toxic.

It’s so frustrating looking at these two characters who are important to the story and see nothing but wasted potential.

[shuckinbeanz]

SCREAM (Yan!GhostFace!Tama)

He also comes maskless! So check out his spoopy mug! 👻

warnings/notes: NSFW, college!au, reader was nearly ran over in broad daylight, Tamaki Slowly Snaps™, stalking, attempted murder(two times, reader nearly gets ran over & Tamaki's first victim manages to escape once), murder, Tamaki is a yandere(who knows his obsession is wrong, but he ends up snapping. and getting worse.), Tamaki & Mirio do the Billy & Stu tagteam except Tamaki is the killer of the duo, Mirio has his own darling which I may or may not write the origins of, Tamaki is the creepy kind of Ghostface due to his introverted nature he's slightly Micheal Myer's-esque and the opening scene features no Scream franchise signature burner calls!

This is gonna be a three part fic and I wanna say reader is a bit fruitloopy, too.(just because of what i have planned for the end. this is a consent blog, sooo)

~Masterlist~

Underage characters are Aged Up!

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies please for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

Similar to Ghostface!Baku, I cut back unnecessary parts(who cares how the minor bg characters croak ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ we’re here for the opening, the ending, and the lovin’), but there still is movie spoilers/references. Enjoy!

Tags: @dynamightsdaydream , @shadoweepingscream , @dementedinc-blog, @survivorofmath , @blackchim3ra

Tamaki was an introvert by nature. He wasn’t exactly the type of person to go out of his way for anything. Much to his chagrin, he was popular, but he only kept a small circle of friends. He was studious, and his nimble frame helped him greatly with sports that demanded dexterity.

He wasn’t exactly the type of person to go out of his way for anything.

But you caught his eye. And even though he denied it, he fell in love with you at first sight. His social anxiety would ultimately lead him to overthink things.

He knew what your favorite foods were by heart. It wasn’t right of him. He knew your favorite color(s), and he even knew your favorite subjects. It’s not normal. You always looked so pretty, bunny, oh God he’s such a creep, wearing your favorite outfits and styles.

Unfortunately, you were a victim of delinquents who’d always find ways to harass you. Usually, a few words would make them stop, for a while. 

But this tops everything they’ve done. Popularity can only go so far. 

Those laughing bastards drove an expensive vehicle they ‘borrowed’, tires screeching across the parking lot as they gassed it off campus, nearly running you over in their joyride.

You were on your rump, terrified and wailing from narrowly avoiding death, but everybody else just stood around like dumb asses. He didn’t waste a second, jogging towards you to see if you were okay. Mirio would know better what to do in this type of situation, he mused as he fretted over you, asking if you were hurt, if you were okay.

When you clung to him, something in him that was hanging by a thread finally snapped.

He decided then and there as he awkwardly and very hesitantly embraced you, he’d kill every last one of them.

~~~

It took some time, and unfortunately, his grades suffered a little. He had to spend late nights staking out the places those bastards frequented, and find out their addresses and numbers. He’d spend what time he could planning. He couldn’t get caught, now, could he?

He had to make sure he wouldn’t be.

He had a ghost mask Mirio had jokingly plastered hollow tentacle-like formations on from last Halloween. It would do perfectly. He had just the right things to hide his tattoos, too, just like the majority of his wardrobe.

It was form fitting, a black sweatshirt with deep navy butterfly printed leggings. He broke out the black leather boots he'd never worn before just for this, too.

One of the ones who mercilessly bullied you had to work the last hours working their family bookstore tonight. They were probably bored out of their mind, and what better electrifying thrill to face imminent death? But he wanted to have a little fun, first.

Mirio lived nearby, and with a beloved of his own, he'd be more than happy to help after hearing what those bastards did to you.

Devices in hand and a plan in mind, he thinks; yes. Yes...they would do perfectly as the opening scene.

He can't contain the deranged grin creeping across his face.

~~~

It's the small things that make the largest of impacts. Tiny objects moved from places one knows they were, odd sounds, and small new additions. Thankfully this one was observant, much to his amusement. He'd bugged that bookstore and tinkered with it, relishing in how this bastard slowly began to lose their mind.

He watched them plant their own devices; probably pilfered from friends and family. Their shifty eyes were almost comical. Perhaps they wouldn't have nearly ran you over when they were this aware of their surroundings?

He smiles widely, a giddy feeling rising in him as he decides he should acknowledge their efforts.

Armed with the knowledge of every camera they'd attempted to sneakily place, and dressed to impress, he lingers just outside the peripheral of the devices.

It was so entertaining fucking with them, and once they caught his silhouette, they'd brought it up with their family who knew well enough the crowd they mingled with.

'Perhaps one of your friends is pranking you? Don't sweat it, it's typical.'

And as typical, they threw a tantrum, knocking over a cart of books before promptly exiting. It took several days for them to come back, needing money. He watched them mind the desk for some time, before donning the costume he'd thrown together after the sun had set, close to their closing time.

Tonight was the night he'd hunt them down, Mirio tagging along.

He skulks out of sight, loitering in the back alley where they'd come out after closing up for the night.

Unfortunately for them, the alleyway was long with twists and turns. He followed them, looking for a chance to attack. All was silent, with the exceptions of his and their footsteps, and their quickening breathing. He made sure to match their steps, stopping each time they stopped.

He expected them to turn around right away-but they didn't, choosing instead to pick up their pace, soon breaking into a bolt, surprisingly fast.

In a fit of fear and desperation, they threw anything and everything they could behind them in an attempt to block his path to them as they rounded the corner to the awaiting Mirio.

Unfortunately for him, it worked. It was tough navigating through a dark alleyway at night with a mask that limited his sight.

He curses under his breath; he was so close, too.

"Whoa, you okay there, bud?" he hears Mirio, following his mock-surprised grunt when they collide into him.

As they begin to stammer in a panic, he pulls down his hoodie and removes his mask, stashing it aside temporarily with his weapon and gloves before tugging his sleeves over his palms.

"Slow down, there. Can't understand a word you're saying--" Mirio tries to placate them as they panic,  "Someone's following me, for fuck's sake, I--"

"Oh, hey, Tamaki." the blonde interrupts, absolutely beaming as he rounds the corner. "You chasing this person or something?~" he asks as that bastard whips around, heaving a sigh of relief as he plays ignorance. "Chase...? You know I'm not that type, Mirio." he fakes a worried smile behind his sleeve as Mirio all but guffaws. "Real panicky, this one, eh?" he exclaims, casually hanging an arm around their shoulder. "Hey, hey, you're shakin' up, how about I take ya home, bud?" he starts, "C'moooon, this way or that?" overwhelming them with his sunny personality, soon whisking them off the moment they point.

"Til next time, Tama!~" he waves farewell, the double edged meaning making him seethe.

This time he failed...but he has a backup plan. He'll murder that bastard's sister.

And by pure luck, he finds her going for a night time jog in the park.

He won't let her get away, no, no, not in such a wide-open space.

She'd make the perfect...what would it be called again?

The perfect opening scene.

[teaveetamer]

I'm legitimately tempted to say that if anyone "both sides" this crap, then they are part of the problem.

Don’t just be tempted anon. If anyone out there thinks me saying that I don’t like a fictional character warrants people fantasizing about killing me: fuck off, maybe? You’re part of the problem.

Also friendly reminder, to the people in this server:

Saying you like Lambert, and even if he possibly did some fucked up shit in canon that doesn’t make him less enjoyable to you because he’s a fictional character and it makes him more complex: Fuck around and find out moment, warrants being bullied and harassed mercilessly until you need to leave the platform to escape it and then having someone steal your handle just to mock you.

Making “jokes” about genocide, talking about killing real people that you disagree with, biphobia, talking about dehumanizing real people, making disgusting “AUs” about one of the most horrific events in human history as a fandom gotcha, calling people Holocaust deniers with 0 evidence (reminder that my mother’s family is Jewish, btw): Perfectly fine. Maybe give them a slap on the wrist (and then don’t even kick them out of your server)

Also can’t wait for them to insist that this is just my “hysterical martyr complex” and that I’m “desperate to play the victim”. Exactly how much abuse to I have to take before you admit that you’re just actually victimizing me?