#tw attempted murder

[autocrats-in-love]

Prompt (195)

The villain had accepted this is how they would die. They stopped struggling against the arms pushing them underwater. Everything was hazy. The villain closed their eyes as their lungs burned.

And then the arms came off them and different hands reached down, snatching the villain's collar and hauling them to the surface of the lake.

The villain took deep breaths of air and started coughing. They were dragged a few metres to shore and laid down. They turned over and threw up water and bile onto the grass. They opened their eyes and things were very blurry.

But they were sure they saw the hero standing in front of them, protectively.

"Stay away from them," the hero snarled at the villain's attacker.

The hero's grip tightened on the blood-covered crowbar in their right hand.

[lavendel081]

Robins Past pt.2

[worst-mother-throwdown]

BRACKET 1

Round 3

TW: child abuse, emotional abuse, mass murder, manipulation, attempted murder, drowning, sexual abuse, rape

Titania propaganda

Cordelia propaganda

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

so, i've wanted to address this quote for a while. because it's stupid. let me explain.

i've seen very few heroes who are willing to sacrifice their loved ones to save the world. usually they find some kind of loophole that lets everyone live. also, sacrificing the world to save one person is not romantic. it's not desirable. what good is a world without its people? what's the point of living in a world where only you and one other person exists?

this quote is just the trolley problem paraphrased. it's the dilemma of saving one person over multiple people. it has no right solution because both of the possible solutions result in the death of someone.

coming back to the post itself, this is yet another case of adora being victim blamed. because c//a stans never get sick of that, right? the post is implying that adora would sacrifice catra to save the world (which is not true, she was sacrificing herself) and that catra would sacrifice the world to save adora. is that true?

research says no.

i mean, come on, the show literally spells it out for you. catra says word for word that she'd rather destroy the world than let adora win (hint: live).

and before you say "that was before she was redeemed!" don't forget that she left adora on her deathbed, instead of staying with her when she needed love and support the most.

again, c//a stans trying to twist canon into something it's not. what's new?

[jewish-vents]

My neighbour tried killing one of my kids because my kid is a “nasty Jew”

we called the police

they arrested him

he came back

we called news agencies (trying to get him to back off in shame or embarrassment)

not a peep

I’m so fucking done

That person needs to face trial and go to jail. I'm so sorry your family is going through something so horrible. I hope you all stay safe and get the justice you deserve

[mayullla]

Title: He waits patiently

Character(s): Thoma (Genshin Impact)

Summary: Haunted dolls au (modern au): There is a doll on the shelves waiting to find a loving home. But as year after year passed your grandfather watched that fragile hope stayed on the shelves. Patiently Thoma waits till he falls into your tiny arms.

Note: Double check tags before reading.

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, child!reader, grandfather pov, multiple sensitive themes, tw!horror, tw!nightmare: attempt(?) tw!murder (tw!chocking), dolls have tw!depression and tw!anxiety, slight violence, tw!cutting, dark themes!!

Haunted doll au masterlist

Thoma was an interesting case. Your grandfather had created him with the inspiration of Germany. The doll had a light glow not as strong as most yet it was still there, a certain beauty in it. The doll, Thoma was its name, was carefully crafted and when he was finally done your grandfather carefully choose the outfit of the doll.

Most dolls always enjoyed this process, finally created they could play dress-up and create themselves a face or mask. Some wished to have a princess like dress, while others choose a more elegant look. Others choose a more wild fashion for them while others had a sharper look.

It was the last step to make their glows a little stronger, to give them a face of who they were even without a name.

Yet Thoma was never satisfied with anything your grandfather presented to him. Multiple outfits he presented or drew yet the doll never liked it.

Well rather than dislike, it was more so that the doll just wasn't content.

It was only later when your grandfather was dressing another doll, a doll with blue hair and dark blue eyes, a family set did he notice a small curious glow coming from the doll he was having trouble with.

Thoma was curious about the clothes that your grandfather was holding and when your grandfather presented them to him. The soft glow shined a little brighter.

Thoma was a beautiful doll, having a boyish smile that was charming and cute. But in the eyes of many collectors, he wasn't as pretty or unique as the other dolls... moving towards another doll with more interest.

Your grandfather watched time and time again as people even children pass the doll by in favor of something else or getting something custom made.

One year turned to two and two turned to more- your grandfather was cautious as he approached that doll every day to clean it up or check if anything was out of place.

It was weird that everywhere around that doll was always clean and tidy with a sight of dust while others right beside it became dusty. There was a certain hope in the doll your grandfather noticed, even after years of waiting and waiting it was still looking forward to a prospect of a home.

But things can't always be so hopeful forever, for even people would lose hope after so long and fall down.

Your grandfather shouldn't have seen it coming, yet at the same time what could he do?

What was he supposed to do when he woke up from a nightmare leaving him hearing nothing but the sounds of his heartbeats and the memory of a lonely voice that slowly turned to painful ringing to the ears?

How something felt like was stabbing his chest with the question why cust circling in his mind, in front of him. The question why he isn't picked, why is he left alone like this, why... why? why?? WHY!?!

It was like a wall of text where ever your grandfather looked it was just why, black and white whys covered his sight as if he was drowning in it. How in front of him was a figure made out of scratched words of loneliness, hope, desperation and pain.

It was hard to breathe when the figure grabbed your father by the neck choking him, begging him asking him why was he like this as if it didn't understand what it did wrong.

The sounds of shouting and yelling small yet slowly grew louder and louder, made your grandfather feel like his ears were bursting as he tried to remove the figure's hands from his neck only to drag the ragged letters that cut your grandfather's skin.

Even when your grandfather woke up when he looked in the mirror. When nothing was there, his neck was sore and ached, his hand itchy from getting cut leaving a numb pain.

He didn't know when he moved from his room to the shop, where so many dolls lined up resting and watching him.

Was it because he was tired? Because the weight on his shoulder felt heavy than before? Was someone holding him down? He was so close, so close to throwing the doll to the ground, one doll. Please just one doll…

“Grandpa?” Your grandfather flinched at the sound, his ears sensitive from the quietness of his shop that was yet to open. You were looking at your grandfather sleepily unable to see your grandfather's expression as you rubbed your eyes with your hand.

It happened so suddenly... when your eyes landed on the doll in your grandfather's hand your eyes suddenly awake in interest trotting up to him.

Who is this you asked, and your grandfather silently stared at you... and unable to give an excuse just told you who the doll was... Thoma was his name, he was a doll that was on the shelves for a long time and your grandfather didn't know what to do with him.

He was so close to shattering it.

He wasn't sure if he should stop you when you suddenly spoke out loud that you will buy him then! You will give him a home and give that doll many cuddles and smooches!

Your grandfather was a tired man, the pain in his neck still fresh on his mind made it hard to breathe so he lets you do as you please. Too tired to say no anymore...

He never did, he was too much of a coward.

Yet you surprised him when you push the doll away when he gave it to you, “Did you not want him?” your grandfather ask, but you replied that you wanted to buy the doll from him!

“You don't have to do that…” Your grandfather told you that it was okay to take the doll but again you declined.

You told your grandfather that you want the price of the doll and that you will work to buy the doll from him so that you can give Thoma the experience of being wanted. It was a weird way of putting it, something only a child would say really but he let you do so telling you a price cheaper than anything he had ever sold.

He wanted to get rid of it.

To push everything in your small tiny hands all the nightmares and horrors that he had experienced, even as guilt ate him while he watched you do very simple chores to earn a bit of money he was still able to sleep at night.

When you finally gathered enough money for Thoma, your grandfather hesitantly held the doll not giving them to you. It was his last chance to take back such a fragile doll from you.

You hugged the doll in love and adoration, and all your grandfather did was watched.

Note: Hmmm in my head Thoma is the last doll you got from your grandfather. (technically... but that might change again later on-) Grandpa has too many dolls.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Numéro 23

Part 2

Guess what, ya girl finished a snippet on the plane!!

Words: 1.28 k

TW: Violence, bone fracture, slightly depressed and pretty anxious hero, questionable agency, bone fracture, guns, attempted murders, restraint mentioned

The file was dropped onto their desk curtly, no words spoken, like every other assignment Hero got. Their newest target didn't have a name, no alias of some sort, and the picture of them had shown them fully masked in a sleek, black suit, no inch of skin showing; a faceless caricature. However, their kill count, in three digits, was important enough that any other details seemed inconsequential next to it.

Besides, Hero had been taught to treat their targets more like tasks than people. 

So the crime-fighter trained till they were left dead on their feet, till their knuckles were all ripped skin and covered in bloodstains, till their exhausted muscles felt like they were on fire. 

“Hero! Don’t you think you’re going a little overkill, boss?” Sidekick asked, folding their arms across their chest and leaning against the doorframe.

The young hero was the closest thing to a light in the agency’s pitch black darkness; the soul that gave life to a lifeless place, like a flame lighting the slowly dwindling, half-melted candle that was the older crime-fighter’s life. 

“I. . .can’t, Sidekick,” the hero replied breathlessly, hauling their form up for yet another pull-up, having done so many that they’d lost count. “This new target is unlike all the others before the-”

“Yeah yeah, but when are you not being paranoid about one of your enemies?” the teenager replied, cutting them off. 

“Their kill count is in three digits,” the crime-stopper retorted almost impatiently.

“Bloody hell,” Sidekick interjected, eyes going wide.

“Watch your language,” Hero chided, but a sly smirk danced across their face. 

“Okay, I wasn’t expecting that, but what good will it do if you show up to fight this bloody - sorry - serial killer exhausted? Weren’t you the one who kept lecturing me on the importance of rest for maximum work efficiency?”

The hero may have been stubborn, but they realised their protegé was right. They couldn't risk showing up to fight someone like their mystery killer while tired, so they decided to make their way home.

Normally, a hot bath would easily clear their head. Sure, they could still feel the tension blissfully seep from their form, the warmth relaxing overworked muscles, but their mind remained a raging firestorm of anxiety. It frustrated them how they couldn't even enjoy something this simple, the one moment where they no longer had to think or be whatever the hell they needed to be at the moment. "At least I smell nice," they scoffed, wishing to get this over with much faster. 

They let out a heavy sigh, leaving the tub and slipping into a bathrobe, trudging to the desk in their room to use the old, but still functional laptop. Ironically, being a hero barely payed for rent. 

For someone so high and mighty, their little terrorist wasn't completely difficult to find. Or maybe the hero was really a 'natural with the keyboard', since it had taken them a bit of hacking to find their target. Who's to say? 

Changing into their suit, Hero stared at their reflection with such intensity, that it would look to most people like an attempt to shatter it to a thousand shards by just looking at it. In reality, their own harsh gaze bore into the dark corners of their mind, wondering for the umpteenth time if they were enough. It didn't matter because they'd still have to do this anyway, whatever the cost.

"Target spotted," they whispered into their comm, standing on their knees for long enough that their muscles ached, waiting for their enemy deigned to show up. 

"I will engage now." 

The killer's movements resembled that of a panther, and the crime-fighter would have been lying if they'd denied finding it graceful. They were fast and agile, almost impossible to keep up with, not even giving them the chance to reach for the gun in their waistband. But the hero was no slouch either. They aimed a harsh kick to their enemy's shins, their body slamming into the asphalt with an audible thud. Still, the figure in black remained undeterred, kicking the crime-stopper on top of them in the ribs, sending them toppling down across the street, making their head throb and effectively destroying their flimsy communicator.

The hero swore, muttering something ironically much more profane than what they'd chastise their sidekick for, but they rolled away, out of the bastard's reach, quickly getting back on their feet. Their assailant was quick on their feet, chasing after them, but Hero was faster. They'd managed to slip behind an old building, trying to quiet their laboured breathing. They slowly reached for the gun in their waistband, removing the old magazine and replacing it with a new, loaded one.

They waited painstakingly for their target to reach the perfect spot.

Bang. They fired, aiming for the kill, three perfect shots. 

Except the bastard was wearing bullet-proof armour, the bullets ricocheting off of them uselessly. They were certain that underneath their dark cowl, the criminal must have had an infuriatingly smug smirk on their face, but right then, they recieved an entirely self-satisfied tilt of the head to the side. 

Their only option was to destroy a piece of the armour and shoot them there. 

The fight between them continued being a draw, one striking, their opponent blocking, and neither causing any real damage. Until the killer had managed to back Hero into a corner, kicking them to the ground and twisting their leg into a horrid angle, the crime-fighter crying out in pain as a grotesque crack rang in their ears. Tears sprang in their eyes and with whatever little movement they could manage, they furiously ripped their nemesis's mask off.

It wasn't the face of a stranger, like they'd expected, nor was it the face of someone entirely close to them, not that there were many people, aside from their sidekick, who obviously wasn't the ruthless murderer before, instead, it was their quiet lab partner from college, Villain, the one that sat next to them every day, brought them coffee and the occasional dessert, and doodled silly cartoons in their notebook to keep them both sane during boring classes, the closest thing they had to a friend that had nothing to do with the agency.

Their mouth was left agape, their eyes wide, their whole world spinning, but Villain didn’t even blink. They fired, straight into the hero's chest, utterly remorseless, no readable expression on their stone hard face.

Hero woke up. Woke up? What the hell? But Villain had killed them, yet here they were, lying on a soft mattress underneath a wonderfully thick comforter, with their leg in a cast, bandages crisscrossed across their chest. The only thing ruining the strangely mellow coziness they felt (possibly painkilling drugs) was the fact that they were handcuffed to the nighstand. 

The bullet had missed their heart. But surely an expert marksman like Villain wouldn't miss, right? This, for some strange reason, was intentional. 

We like to believe that our expectations have a foundation in truth, that they are of considerable value, that they can have even the slightest effect on any future outcomes. Yet, that is a fool's dream, a fruitless effort to calm a racing mind in fear of the unknown. Just when you are at the peak of your certainty, when you fully believe your fate is sealed, a spontaneous twist, the slightest change sets you on a path you were never aware existed. Our choices, our words, our actions have meaning, yet they only hold the power of a few tidal waves in the vast unpredictable ocean that is our future because destiny is a weapon one can only hope to master.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @usernotfound000 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Could you do an ABO Headcanon of Alphas!Overblot Gang x Omega!Kalim, where Kalim is a boy who was sold for a ritual to summon the seven most powerful demons to be sacrificed, but at the time of the ritual, the demons ( who I imagine in their Overblots forms) are interested in Kalim and choose him as their omega/fiance, and despite their rude and irritated manner, they slowly show that they care and love Kalim

This took so long since I had to do so much research and by the time I nearly finished it it didn't save so I lost the whole thing so I'm rewriting this all over again so if you see double somehow, now you know!

WARNING: This post will have the following;

Alpha/Beta/Omega Verse (A/B/O)

Attempted murder

Sex stuff

Is Hella Gay

If you no not like ANY of this stuff, the ships around it, or are not interested, then move along! Do not comment or engage at all if you dislike all this!

Now onto the post!

Life of Kalim Al-Asim was always pleasant and sweet. He always relied on his family and close servants and lived in a beautiful home of a beautiful and thieving kingdom. Sure he's mostly isolated and not allowed outside the home's walls but that's for his protection!

He got along great with all his servants, his family adored him as much as he adored them. Though he does have one wish his heart aches many times over, the return of his best friend... Jamil disappeared in the two's younger years right when tests to determine who's an alpha, beta, or omega started. Nothing in his room was touched or packed which made it clear he didn't run away. Not like he would, thought Kalim... He promised...

Days have been counted down for Kalim's birthday, a large wide celebration everyone celebrates in many positive ways. And this birthday was extra special for Kalim since he was informed they will be holding a parade just for him to walk around and spread goods from the family in his honor! One the day of the his birthday, he was bathed in the nicest soaps and warmest water, dressed in the finest silks and softest fabrics and ate the most delicious food he ever taste before they swept him right to the soft and veiled palanquin waiting for him.

Btw if you wanna know what he wore, I pictured the Fairy Gala outfit

Kalim was happy seeing everyone's cheerful faces as they move across the kingdom, everyone excited to see and celebrate with the well rumored beautiful child of the Asim family name, he tossed much gold coins and flowers to everyone as he waves and smiles bright and kind

As the parade drew to a close he leaned back into the soft cushions before he took notice they seem to be wandering farther away from the kingdom and more to the darker shade due to the nightfall land Before he could ask his father where they were going, the guards quickly grab onto Kalim and yank him out of the once comforting and protecting veiled hide away and into the sand

The parade was a ruse. The kindness he believed from the servants was a ruse. The lie that he was being held inside was a ruse. It was all a lie for everyone, Kalim, the kingdom...All lied to with the idea the world was unsafe for the son of such a wealthy family, but in reality he was hidden away for this very moment... With the moon at the right phase and at it's peak, as they drag the poor screaming and crying Kalim to the ruins and pin him down to the large alter. Ruby eyes widen when seeing the large seven statues of the most powerful demons in the universe... The Crimson Tyrant of Wrath The Scarred Rebel of Sloth The Enchanting Merchant of Greed The Viperous Tactician of Envy The Poisonous Oppressor of Pride The Fire Guardian of Tristitia And The Thorn Dragon of Melancholy

Kalim cried and pleaded to be let go, even more when his father explained it has to happen, that if they sacrifice once in a while the land would be blessed with great farming, water, riches, etc. and if they sacrifice such a golden soul they might be blessed with something greater.

Kalim cried and squirmed as he tried to escape from their tight grips as the kept going of the ritual. That's when he sees them... Seven figures appear from the shadows, from the Earth, from the skies, from the fires, from mere matter... Standing around him in a circle...

Kalim woke up in a soft bed he doesn't recognize in a room he doesn't recall even more, sitting up he sees hanging up are a set of clothes seemingly fit for him to wear, black and red with glamourous golds to tie it all together...

After a moment a ghostly servant of sorts come to him and tells him to get dressed and come follow him to the gardens where "they" are waiting for him

Nervous of what'll happen if he disagrees right now, he does as he is told and waited for the servant to leave the room to change to the new clothes and stepped out, he followed the ghost to the location of the large and hauntingly beautiful dark gardens of many plants

There seated in a table at the center of the garden are the seven demons.

Kalim carefully sat with them, scared to look at any of them but more scared to upset him so he answered when they talk to him, nodded at yes or no questions, but why are they treating him like this? To make it even more fun when he dies in their hands? He finally spoke, "What am I doing here? Are...Are you going to kil-" His words were forced to a stop when a servant place a plate before him, his favorite food from childhood... But how-

The eight men talked a bit more before they finally informed Kalim he'll stay with them from now on. "Why?" Kalim was unable to not blurt out. The men look at one another, a silent agreeance, before they speak, "We pick you to be our's."

Days passed since that first meeting about Kalim's new living arrangements, and it's been doing alright.

Kalim started to get used to these demons, even more when he realize one of them was Jamil! As it turned out he was banished after he got back from the test he was an alpha and they assumed Kalim would be one and didn't want them to fight, not knowing until after the banishment that Kalim was actually an Omega... After the banishment, Jamil was fortunately found by a man who turns out was the previous demon of Envy and taught him the ways of ruling and magic. He also grew to understand that he has met every one of the other demons - Riddle, Leona, Azul, Vil, Idia, and Malleus - some time before they saved him from his attempted sacrifice ritual

Overtime since he began his new living arrangement, Kalim began to see the sides of these seven he never thought to see before. They may be seen as scary and intimidating, but they really are so different than what Kalim heard from the stories... He grew to adore Riddle's awe of the wildlife in the garden and how he loves games and his roses. He grew to like Leona's strong will of equal rights for everyone. He grew to admire hearing Azul's little rambles of paper work and how he can do so much in so little time. He grew to love Jamil's strong will and sharp tongue. He grew to like Vil's knowledge of nature and what it can give you in potion making. He grew to admire Idia's little rants and chill talks with him about his hobbies and interests. He grew to love Malleus' quirks and clingy methods of love and cuddles.

It didn't take much from wandering around the new home of his and going around the lands with them that he feel deeper and deeper in love with all of them. And like him, it didn't take much for them to make it clear they want him in a much deeper romantic sense

It was a whole six months since they saved him when the signs of gentle warmth and romance begun to show their heads to Kalim.

Riddle started to invite him to have sweets with him or a garden stroll

Leona naps a lot but now he's offering Kalim to nap with him or read beside him while he cuddles him

Azul began to offer travel plans to Kalim and spoiled him plenty with new clothes and items

Jamil began to cook more foods Kalim loves and helped him in dancing if wanted or needed

Vil started to do relaxing spa like methods for Kalim, setting up luxurious baths and spa facials, he also begun to give the boy his books if he so ask

Idia was starting to talk more with Kalim and they watched the stars together

And Malleus has invited him on many moonlit strolls across the gardens

It was after a while of all this did the seven sat Kalim down and asked him properly if they can all be lovers, that if he's okay being their omega. At this point, Kalim was not once uncomfortable by any of them and none of them tried anything to him without asking first. He agreed rather happily and thus the new romance begun!

The eight began to live their lives comfortably as lovers, they had to get used yes but they worked

Over time with their help the lovers really begun to get used to each other thanks to the heats.

Now, for the first one, as they weren't lovers yet, they all made sure Kalim was locked in his room and fought tooth and nail of their temptations to mate with him. The sweet coconut and sand scent he was giving off while he stole the varies clothes and items of theirs's for his nest nearly drove them mad

So, luckily, by the time the next heat happened they were all together and ready for it

The first night was a long passionate one with them eagerly exploring each other and how much their sweet omega can take

Each time they took mental notes with anything that gave their Kalim pleasure

Kalim's poor skin is just covered in bites and marks

[traumatizedjaguar]

Lmao so funny story, I found history searches on my fathers devices about *cyanide* and “easily obtainable poisons” and *I hate women/I hate my wife and kids/abuser/misogynistic related things* also chemsee sells test kits for not too expensive amounts. Also, just keeping these posts as a reminder that my father (and brother) tried to poison me since I was a minor, so it doesn’t get lost.

[lone-wolf-nergiganos]

Diluc X Endangered Home Alone! Male Reader Modern AU

"Where am I?? Why is it so dark in here??" You asked while looking around frantically, only to find out that were in your very own basement. "Hahaha," you heard a voice chuckle in the darkness. You tried to move but you quickly realized that you were tied to a chair tightly.

"Oh stop struggling, your death will be painless, I promise, Y/N." The voice said again before someone appeared from the darkness, you instantly knew the voice belonged to them. You tried to struggle even more until the person who kidnapped you pointed a sharp knife at you.

"What do you want from me??" You asked while yelling, "I just want to kill you that's all," the intruder replied before laughing maniacally. The intruder then walked up to you before putting the knife on your throat. "Please, don't do this!" you said while looking at the intruder pleadingly, but the intruder didn't cared.

The intruder then held the knife above your head, you cried profusely, knowing that your life is over. You began to see countless of flashes of you and your family and friends, and your boyfriend, Diluc. Diluc would always make sure you are loved and appreciated, and you would hate to leave him because you have been murdered by a careless psychopath.

Suddenly, you heard someone kicking the basement door open before they ran up to the intruder and busted their head with a glass bottle. "Y/N, are you okay??" They said, you knew who it was, Diluc. "Diluc??" You asked, "yes baby, it's me!" he replied before running up to you and untying you.

"Thank you so much Diluc, but how did you knew that I was kidnapped?" You asked before getting up, "I tried to call you multiple times, but I got no answer. That's when I knew something was wrong, so I decided to come over to your house to see if you are okay, and it's a good thing I did," Diluc replied.

After he said he you began to hug him tightly before he hugged you back, "thank you baby, I'm so sorry for getting you into this," you said. "Don't apologize Y/N, there's no way I'm going to let no psycho kill you," Diluc replied before kissing you gently before you kissed him back. After that you guys called the cops and pressed charges on the intruder.

A few months had passed since the traumatizing incident, and you decided to move in with Diluc. If he hadn't saved you that day, you wouldn't be here, but it's a good thing he did. After all, he is your boyfriend, and he'd rather go the extra mile just to make you feel safe.

A/N: hey guys, I hope you all like the fanfic. I'm currently home alone and this popped in my mind, so why not write for it, yeah? Hahaha

[worst-mother-throwdown]

BRACKET 1

Round 2

TW: manipulation, kidnapping, child abuse, attempted murder, sexual abuse, rape

The Other Mother propaganda

Cordelia propaganda

[im-enoch]

A girl with schizoid personality disorder stabbed her teacher in my country. Now the politicians are looking into making mentally ill people disclose their conditions to learning facilities.

I don't know, but whenever my mom used to go to school to talk about accommodations for me because if my mental illness, the teachers would treat me differently. The puppy/child voice, constant touching and asking "how are you doing?" Just struck me as insensitive and insincere.

Thinking of countless kids experiencing the same treatment, my blood boils. Nobody knows how to actually help us. Nobody knows how to actually treat us.

[drsugarsweet]

Better Watch Your Back

Dullahan!Hol Horse x reader

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Synopsis: The wilds are a familiar place to a hunter such as yourself. Where there's bounty, there's also danger, but you never knew just how close you would come to that danger until one fateful night. The horseman is at your heels.

TW: Attempted murder, mild gore, decapitation mention

Note: reader is GN, no pronouns aside from 'you' are used.

Masterlist ☆。*。☆。

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AN: I've seen Hol as a centaur before, which is fun but like... the headless horseman is SO underrated

The hunting grounds of the moors are a vast, bountiful place for those who know them. Those who hunt the wildlands also know how perilous they can be after dark.

You’re intimately aware of the risks of the terrain. You’ve hunted for yourself for years after all. The snakes and biting insects keep you on your toes, as do the other hunters if you’re so unlucky as to encounter one. You know better than to underestimate the horns of the beasts you hunt and you aren’t the type to poke sticks into animal dens unwarranted. It’s easier to predict the weather now that you’ve lived nearby for a while and you’re confident that, for all of its dangers, the wild has nothing to surprise you.

That is, until night falls.

Call it superstition, but there are too many things out there for you to explain away with animal behaviors or the hallucinations of a lonely huntsman. The grasslands come alive with energy even as the moon greets the nocturnal beasts, you included; the energy isn’t always in your favor. Distant howls from creatures you’ve never seen and odd lights are all that you’ll experience if you’re lucky. A not-deer crossed paths with you once and you pointedly avoid hunting there anymore - as do most creatures when you avoid looking in a strangely barren clearing further northward. You follow all the rules and for many months, you’ve mostly been able to stay on neutral terms with the things you’re certain stalk the moors with you.

One fateful night, you meet something that isn’t quite so neutral. As the hazy oranges and blood reds of the sunset crest the horizon and you stroll along your usual hunting trail towards the nearby town, a sound you aren’t familiar with grazes your hearing.

At first you’re certain thunder is striking on the horizon. It’s a constant, deep rumbling that only grows louder and louder by the second. Surely it isn’t a carriage? The main road to the town is far away from your trail and you know that no one is stupid enough to travel this late unless they know the woods well. The more you listen, the more you hear the consistent drumming of hoofbeats. Now you know something is wrong.

You aren’t sure who would be out this late but you don’t want to be in their path. As you duck into the underbrush of the side of the trail and begin climbing up a nearby tree, your bow and quiver slung across your shoulders, you tear your eyes from the path long enough to reach a sturdy branch. The hoofbeats grow closer, and closer, and closer -

And as you settle as well as you can in the leaves, you peer into the horizon and your breath is stolen from your lips.

A figure thunders over the crimson trail.

You can’t initially make out what you’re seeing in the backdrop of the red-hot sun. The black silhouette is large and imposing, the four hooves of what must be a horse kicking up clouds of dust on the dry trailbed. Something is hunched over atop of it. The forest is beginning to grow dark and while your eyes adjust, you notice more oddities by the second that have your gut twisting in anxiousness. A tattered cloak flutters from the side of the figure and you can barely make out the rim of a stetson outlined by the remnants of sunset. You’d almost laugh at the odds of a cowboy by the looks of it if you weren’t frozen in place through some unnatural means.

The horse’s mighty hoofbeats start to slow down as you realize the two beings are growing closer and closer to you . Had they heard you? Why can’t you move ? The beast is huffing and snorting and the figure hasn’t moved, but somehow you know they’re looking at you. How, you don’t know - their hat is tilted in such a way that you can’t see a single glimpse of a face, or even their neck. Despite that, it feels as though your very body is pinned under a glare. You glare back and yet your veins remain ice through means you can’t explain.

It feels as though an eternity has passed by the time the stranger is close to your tree. The sun is merely a sliver in the sky, and as the night envelops the forest, the stranger becomes even more frightening. At first you thought the soft glow coming from them had to be a lantern or a cigar. There is a cloud of smoke hovering around them, but that isn’t the source. You can’t explain it but the stranger is the one glowing . A soft, eerie luminescence coats the back of the horse, the ragged shawl and the gloved hands of the stranger in a dull yellow glow. It’s as though their face is a lantern in itself. Every hair on your body stands on end as your gaze trails down, down along the chest of the stranger, ending on their lap…

From the unruly black fur of the horse’s mane, a human face stares back at you.

Your eyes meet the sunken sockets of a man’s decapitated head. You aren’t sure what makes your mind sputter to a halt first; is it the shredded flesh and barely bloodied stump of what was once a neck? Does the man’s tan skin, pulled tight and corpselike to what may have been a handsome face, remind you of the buried too much? The cherry red of a cigar burning away at the corner of the spectre's lips blends into the golden glow emitting from under the hat but that isn’t what truly causes you to rear back and nearly lose your grip on the tree branch. The long, golden hair gripped tightly in the gloved hand gives you a perfectly clear view of the being.

What wakes you from your trance is the wispy glow of steel blue eyes piercing your very soul.

The sudden surge of adrenaline that floods your body feels like fire and ice and fear . You taste metal on the back of your tongue and the spectre notices the way you scramble to reach your bow. Not once do your eyes leave the creature. Not once does its gaze leave you. Just as quickly as you can notch your bow with shaking hands, you watch with rapt terror as the being reaches slowly, intently to its side. You don’t know how it can move, how it can think in the state that it’s in, but you’ve learned not to question the things in the forest. This one is new though and it’s all you can do to realize that it has a gun holstered to its hip.

You do your best to aim the bow with fingers that feel numb and shaky. The gun has come from its holster now and just when you thought it couldn’t startle you any more, the thing’s body somehow looks up too. The stetson tilts back to reveal a ball of fire and light dancing in the place of a skull, illuminating the gory mess of its neck nestled in the shawl’s collar. Despite the sting of the being’s soul on the back of your eyelids, those eyes burn into you even brighter. The faded silver of the gun reflects and distorts the light and you’re certain that you’re looking at death in its truest form. The man’s ghastly face is grinning at you and for a brief moment, you feel the calm of a person accepting their fate.

You refuse to die so easily. 

In the moment of clarity that comes before a kill, you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in and do the only thing you can think of. As the rush of adrenaline coalesces into one last, desperate flash of stillness, you launch an arrow at the specter and narrowly miss its shoulder. It snags a piece of the thin shawl on its path before the arrow pierces the dusty trail with an echoing thud.

You didn’t know what to expect when you were staring down the barrel of the gun. You were certain you would die, your last shot in vain. What you didn’t expect was the expression of fear that crossed the spectre’s face, its gun lowering in one fell swoop as its ghastly steed reared back from the arrow. The being made no noise as it clung to the back of the horse but you could see the way it hurriedly slipped the gun into its holster, its hand clinging to the horse’s mane in an attempt to stay on. Whatever hold of fear was on you is broken as dust is kicked up around obsidian hooves.

You pray to any deity you can think of as you scramble to jump off of the branch and climb to the forest floor below. Every second that passes is a second that you fear you’ll feel a bullet in your spine, but that moment never happens. The dirt beneath your shoes has never felt better but you aren’t free yet. There is no yelling for you to stop, no ringing of gunshots or demonic howling into the wind. All you hear is the thumping of hooves on earth. You could almost swear that… Wait, surely not?

Despite your better judgment, you have to be sure. You have to know that you heard the hoofsteps growing fainter.

Sure enough, the darkness now blanketing the trail is broken only by the steadily retreating glow of the figure and its steed. Dust shrouds the flickering golds of its form and with it, the being soon disappears into the dark of the forest you were leaving just minutes earlier.

What is there to do now? Your legs feel boneless and it’s all you can do not to crumple to the ground. The many questions that will surely flood your mind later are absent beneath the sheer weight of the relief and confusion that you feel now. You’re alive. You aren’t sure how, but you survived. The sounds of the wild are slowly returning and you realize that you missed just how silent it was moments before. It’s a welcome return, but you don’t want to risk that thing coming back to ruin the peace. You need to leave and never again touch this trail.

In spite of the encounter, you take the chance to cross the trail to retrieve your arrow. You know no one will believe you if you tell them of the ghastly headless rider. Hell, you wouldn’t believe yourself. Despite that, you need to know that it was real. You need to know just how close you came to death’s embrace. 

The arrow is easy to tear free from the dirt. You’re ready to shove it into the quiver for later inspection when something on the arrowhead catches your eye. In the dark of the night, you reach to the end of the arrow and your hand touches not smooth metal, but cloth. The rough cloth of a shawl irritates your scratched hands. This belonged to it.

Your breath feels cold leaving your lungs despite the balmy night air. Surely you shouldn’t, but you tuck the scrap of cloth into the pocket of your hunting shirt anyways. If no one believes you, you at least need to remember it for yourself. The arrow is tucked away, your ears straining a minute longer for distant hoofbeats, and then you bolt down the trail towards the lights of the town on the horizon. The ghost and its horse are long gone, and yet you feel that cold glare of icy blue on your back. Not even the brambles and thorns of the underbrush can stop your mad dash to safety.

You walk into town that night as a changed person. Never again will you travel the woods after dark, the cloth tucked into your pocket proof should you ever forget.

[mysaldate]

Why Leona and Vil get treated differently – and why not everything is always about race

Yeah yeah, it’s been a long time since this discourse happened... not. Because apparently we’re beating this horse even after it’s deader than Cater’s clones. Somehow this stupid conversation keeps getting rekindled over and over and over and over again, and I’m just so tired so I’m just gonna put my thoughts down so that the next time I get caught up in it, I’ll have this post at the ready. Read at your own risk, this may trigger some people, especially those who claim the only reason anyone would ever dislike Leona is his skin color and not, you know, everything he does.

Leona’s murder attempt was pre-meditated. Unlike Vil, Leona spent quite a long time planning out everything he did in episode 2. He made sure the injuries happened in a way that couldn’t be linked back to him and that nobody could see Ruggie while he was using his unique magic. When it came to the actual murder, he even made a deal with Azul to ensure the event venue was set up in a certain way and that Ruggie got a potion to boost his magic before the whole thing started. Vil, on the other hand, snapped under momentary pressure, and didn’t spend weeks planning how to murder a rival over a competition.

Leona was ready to go through with it. I see a lot of people conveniently ignoring this but someone actually did die during Leona’s murder attempt – Cater’s clones did. Now, whether or not clone lives count as actual lives is irrelevant at the moment because all that matters is that Leona didn’t stop until there were bodies on the ground. Remember he watched the whole thing. He knew what was going on and when to stop. On the other hand, Vil immediately stopped the second a new element was introduced that snapped him out of whatever he was going on. Which brings me to my next point.

Leona acted with full clarity. Unlike Vil, Leona was fully in control the whole time. Vil was in a haze of reliving his past trauma, a haze that he snapped out of the second someone other than his target spoke to him. Leona, while motivated by past trauma, was fully in control of his actions.

Leona never showed any growth. This may be a controversial point for some people. And I understand that Leona is older than most of the other characters, however that does not make him stubbornly refusing to admit he did anything wrong any less jarring. Everyone showed tangible visible growth after their overblot, except Leona.

We are clear on what Leona wanted. With Vil, we never got a clear-cut confirmation that he was out for blood. We know something unsavory would’ve happened to Neige if he drank the apple juice, but truth is, it was never explicitly stated that he would die (if it was in EN, then just chuck that on the pile of things EN ruined). People just jumped to assuming murder because that’s what we’ve seen before and because Vil is associated with poinsons.

And when it comes to how their attempts were handled in-universe, let’s take a look at that.

Leona got called out by Lilia. It was vicious and rude, yes. Was it racist of Lilia to tear into Leona? No. No part of Lilia’s insults had to do with Leona’s race. He compared Leona with Malleus and evaluated which one of them has a personality more suited for a leader – the answer should be clear if you consider which one of them committed murder over a sports contest. This was also after Leona attempted to murder Lilia’s son, his son’s best friend, and a person he’s been taking care of for decades, or possibly even longer. Leona is lucky Lilia is no longer in his general days otherwise he’d likely be made into a throwrug, how handsome is up to your personal tastes. However, Leona’s call-out ended there with no further consequences other than being disqualified from the contest.

Vil got called out by nearly the entirety of the VDC group. Granted, it wasn’t that vicious or rude, but that’s because it didn’t get personal with anyone. Had he killed Neige, it wouldn’t personally affect any of the VDC group members. While Rook is a huge fan of Neige’s, that’s as far as it goes. However, Vil had lasting consequences from this lapse of judgement. You can find my full analysis of that mess here. That alone makes fans less eager to harp on him, since it at least feels like he got what he deserved – or possibly even more – while Leona gets to walk free with one verbal scolding.

Lastly, if you’re here to tell me to kms or harass me, do us both a favor and just click block and hide. I’ve got enough of that to the point where I just roll my eyes and block you back without it really affecting me. You’re just wasting your time as well as mine. You can think Lilia calling out Leona for murder was racist but at that point, you’re just willing to use skin color as a free get out of consequences card, and I have no desire to talk to people like that.

If you agree, feel free to share, if you’d like to respectfully debate, I’m 100% down for that too, just know that I tend to be pretty stubborn😅

Edit: If you are here to talk about wider fandom treatment of dark-skinned characters, that isn't what this post is about so please just make your own. This post is about a specific situation. Of course, there will always be bad people who judge people and characters based on skin color, but let's not act like everyone who dislikes Leona does so for those reasons. There's plenty of differences between his and Vil's situation that can make people like one and dislike the other without being racially charged. THAT is the point of this post.

[x-brik-x]

leaving tumblr, probably temporarily, don't know how long for. uninstalling the app. will be posting this on my alt too. every time I think this mob of hatred towards transmascs is over, another excuse to treat us like the scum of the earth arises and it starts all over again. the denial of things that are happening right in front of us is unbearable. I'm sick of being called privileged and told I have a "victim complex" when I've literally had someone try to set me on fire for being a trans man. I'll think about coming back when it's no longer hip and cool and trendy to want me dead. so called "allies" and even other trans people who think this way about trans men, just know that I do not make any distinction between you and any other transphobe. when I say I hate transphobes, I am talking about you too. yes, even if you are trans yourself. this explicitly includes other transmascs. you make my life a living hell.

discord server will still be open:

https://discord.gg/fNw3QGEEW9

but for the time being I will no longer be active on here.