#violence and intimidation

[bixels]

Scary Sunset.

I'm concepting things way outta order in this story, but I'm sure you can piece things together. Context is for a storybeat where, after defeating and capturing Adagio (thus having all three sirens in her possession), Sunset enacts her revenge plot to release the sirens on Canterlot as Thea discovers she's been manipulated. In a confrontation, the two scuffle and fight over the siren orbs while Sunset struggles with her conflicting wants and emotions.

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

"I work in the field of violence. Not knowing Eliot Spencer in our line of business, it's a bit like not knowing Rembrandt."

Leverage Redemption S01E01 The Too Many Rembrandt's Job.

Bonus:

[jeeaark]

Previously on 'Orpheus' First Impressions'

Alternative Titles: Famous Last Words, Cue 'If You Like Pina Coladas' Epic Trailer Song, If Store-Bought is Unavailable, Self-Made Pina Colada is Fine, and It May Not Be The Pina Colada Anybody Wanted, but It's the Pina Colada Everyone Needed.

So I vaguely heard what could happen to Karlach and kept that in my in-case-of-emergency-break-glass reload mindset. But uh. Nah. Greygold had an ✨Agenda✨ after all of that.

Was so dedicated to volunteering, didn't even let Orpheus finish talking. nor read the other options. Nor said any goodbyes or talk it out with the others. No second thoughts, Just fully resonating the saying 'if you want things done right, you gotta do it yourself'

Kept wondering why Orpheus kept calling it a 'noble sacrifice' until the uh. Cutscene happened. Forgot that ceremorphis wasn't like a uh. wildshape shift or a magical girl transformation. Which means Greygold definitely hadn't been listening to Lae'zel's explicit descriptions of the process way back in the beginning. Too busy getting lost in babe's eyes, whoops.

Speaking of babe, she sounded pretty cranky again during the huddle talk to squidification (when I checked it out after the game), but I like to think it's because she was trying to put on a brave soldier face from how upset she really was about the situation.

Lae'zel after Orpheus' mindblown callout: This is the worst moment of my life. Lae'zel now, Drenched in her Joy's Blood: ........No, this is. This is worse.

But also I don't know if it's been confirmed what Orpheus' stance was on if he'd've worked with Emps or not, but in this reality? From the vibes I was was getting? Gonna play with the idea of it being a big 'nah'. More 'fun' this way.

[cpt-winters]

Forced to Choose

"Open your mouth."

Leader's only response was to tighten his jaw muscles further.

"I won't ask again."

Leader's gaze shifted from the teammate kneeling opposite him to the gun levelled at his head. He stared at the barrel for several seconds before complying, though not without glaring up at Whumper.

Appearing menacing as Whumper slid the gun into his mouth was a lost effort, but there was no chance in hell he was giving Whumper the satisfaction of his full submission. But there was no disillusion of who held the power here.

"I'll make this simple." Gravel crunched under Whumper's boot as he stepped behind Leader, shifting his attention to the other captive.

"Tell me where the base is...or I blow his brains out."

Leader forced his face to stay neutral, not wanting Youngest to see him crumble. Nonetheless, he failed to suppress a shudder, his breath hitching as the cold metal bit into his skin, scraping against the roof of his mouth.

"Please don't...don't make me choose," Youngest pleaded, a tear glinting in their eyes as the gun cocked with a distinctive click.

Wanting to reassure Youngest it was okay, Leader gave as much of a nod as he could manage, already knowing what decision they'd have to make.

[bonefall]

do you ever worry your own writing might come off as misogynistic though? it seems deceptively easy

When you have anxiety, PTSD, OCD, or multiple of these things, every move you make is something you will self-doubt. It can become endless if you let it, and you can be frozen by absolute indescision.

Embrace the void and reach enlightenment with me; There are many ways to read a story, and no writer can pre-empt every possible interpretation. Not even myself.

If they think my work comes across as misogynistic? Let them. Salty amoebas are often wrong on the internet, but the block button and xkit are beautiful transwomen who are also my friends.

[the-lark-ascending69]

Ronance jealousy when the relationship is secret is exquisite. Boys flirting with Robin thinking she's single while Nancy seethes. Men suddenly trying to kiss Nancy out of nowhere, sometimes even succeeding, thinking she's up for grabs despite her girlfriend being right there - though she can't defend her as anything more than a friend. Maybe jealousy isn't the right word. It's an intrusion. It's men trying to come between them, even without knowing they're together, even thinking they get to want them and that they get to pursue them.

But I think it's even worse when the relationship is pretty much not secret. Maybe they're tired. Maybe they have their families to support them if something goes wrong, so they're not as scared. Maybe they still won't kiss or hold hands in public, but they don't go out of their way to quell any rumors because, why would they? They're normal teenage girls, they're not doing anything wrong. But they're such a novelty that everyone in school knows, and suddenly, when someone tries to flirt with one of them, it's inherently violent. Especially when the other one is right there. And she can say "excuse me?" and "she's with me. get lost" all she wants but she'll always get as an answer a "shut up. I'm not talking to you". This doesn't happen to boys. A young man wouldn't so openly try to get into a girl's pants with her boyfriend right there. He'd get his teeth punched in if he tried. It's a weird, hormonal mixture of fear, violence and respect, all things a teenage girl seems incapable of exerting. The thing with these people, which is worst of all, is that they're not even all that disgusted by them. If they were disgusted, at least it'd mean they aknowledge they're doing something. Their relationship may be detestable to them but at least they'd understand it's real. By pursuing them, it shows how, in reality, they don't think they're more than two friends playing family, or two frigid prudes so scared of relationships with men they come up with this little game to try to feel fulfilled. Confused girls at most who just need to be with a real man for once to see what they're missing. Or they don't even think that much about it - it's just a joke to them. They laugh at it. Girlfrends? Sure, whatever, now buckle up, Buckley!

[akkivee]

evil sasara must be so interesting lol like an inverted sasara i think is still just sasara since he’s like two faced asf, but maybe that asshole side of his personality would be his main side lol 🤔

[odinsblog]

[pratchettquotes]

"Good evening, gentlemen!" said the vampire. "Please pay attention. I am a reformed vampire, which is to say, I am a bundle of suppressed instincts held together with spit and coffee. It would be wrong to say that violent, tearing carnage does not come easily to me. It's not tearing your throats out that doesn't come easily to me. Please don't make it any harder."

The sergeant pushed himself away from the bar top and took a muzzy swing at Maladict. Almost absentmindedly, Maladict leaned away from it and then returned a roundhouse blow that knocked him over.

"The captain looks bad," he said. "What did he try to do to poor little you?"

"Patronize me," said Polly, glaring at Maladict.

"Ah," said the vampire.

Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment

[sapphorror]

too many fics about human saliva being mildly corrosive to Irkens and not nearly enough about human blood being mildly corrosive to Irkens

not that I'm inherently opposed to the former, though I am generally inclined to think that most human bodily fluids would lack the pollutants that are so caustic to Irkens in the first place. however, given how Irken skin reacts to at least some types of meat, blood seems like one of the marginally more likely contenders, and more to the point, an unstoppable death machine burning itself alive in pursuit of the kill is an extremely sexy mental image and I believe in indulging the id

[socialjusticeinamerica]

RepubliKKKlans and their guns.

[absent-enigma]

What would mothhorror do if someone broke into mc's house?

Depending on the scenario, there’s a few ways it could go.

-

If the Reader is not currently in the house:

The Intruder entered the house, and came across something unexpected in the urban home. A big ole monster of a creature. In the dark, Horror looks much bigger with wings half open. Intruder has that ‘oh shit this thing with a glowing eye right on me could tear me in half’. The intruder immediately leaves instead of engaging.

One of two things happen in this case:

If Horror doesn’t sense any LV or ill intent apart from breaking on, he’ll make sure the intruder has cleared out of the house, and that the home is secure before going back to sleep and/or waiting for reader’s return

Note: Rust may or may not have dealt with intruder.

If Horror senses LV he will pursue the intruder out of the house and will risk being seen, to make sure that a threat does not come back to the Reader’s home. Once back home, Horror will scour the entire house to make sure that it is safe and secure.

If the Reader in the house, asleep:

Intruder instantly regrets entering the home because before the intruder can even get into the living room, Horror is suddenly there, a hulking shadow with a glowing red eye.

When the reader wakes up in the morning, Horror is pleased with himself for some unknown reason. He accepts scritches and gives reader affection that morning with hugs, nuzzling and preening. It’s never brought up what happened to the intruder, but there is a news story a week later that reports about a series of break-ins mysteriously stopping.

Reader in the house, awake:

Horror is in full protection mode, and reacts accordingly depending on whether the intruder is armed or not.

Armed intruder:

Full on lunging in order to grasp at the intruder. Horror will take an injury if the intruder is quick enough, but Horror can take a hit, since his health is much better than years and years ago.

Unarmed intruder:

Horror bristling the fur he has and spreading his wings, while both pairs of arms lift to flex claw-tipped phalange. It’s only Reader telling Horror not to attack that keeps things from escalating but it’s likely the intruder is frozen in fear. Horror only leaves when the authorities arrive to take the intruder away, ignoring the fearful babbling about giant moth skeletons.

Another factor is how close the intruder is to the reader:

Reader closer to intruder:

Horror will use a shortcut and place himself between reader and the intruder; debatable whether or not the intruder would have threatened reader because Horror is just there as a giant wall of fur, scarred bones and flared wings with teeth bared. Reader may or may not be able to convince Horror to not savage the intruder.

No Lv: scare the hell out of the intruder. With LV: Horror is dragging the intruder out of the house and Reader won’t see what happens but will have an idea. Note: Horror will not eat the intruder he’ll just dump them deep into the forest where something will get the intruder eventually.

Reader farther away from intruder:

With LV: Horror makes intruder go bye-bye with via a shortcut (never to be seen again).

No LV: Horror does the looming thing while curling around reader and hiding reader via both pairs of arms, folded wings and skull over reader’s head as he growls low and dangerously (another instance where Rust will be around and catch the intruder when intruder ties to run.

Afterward:

Horror, now carrying Reader, secures the house and then retreats to ‘nest’ he made of bedding and pillows and clothes in the living room. Reader now lives there until Horror is reassured that you are okay and he’s stopped blaming himself for not being 100% certain the house was safe. Horror will need reassurance that he hasn’t failed you for not checking a window lock or a bar blocking a patio door from being open. Prepare for meal offerings and a lot of snuggles. The guilt will linger for a little while.

[bardic-tales]

Happy Six Sentences Sunday everyone. This is my submission for today's Creator Club's challenge. The Creator Club aims to bring artists / writers together so we can celebrate our work. If interested, you can see the post entitled Creator's Club. We are open for original and fandom creators.

Prompt: Post (approximately) six sentences from something you’re working on. If you aren’t ready to do that, add six sentences to your WIP.

I have been working hard on the prompts for Whumptober, so this is where that is from. For Whumptober, I have split Sephiroth down the middle, taking key parts of his personality as the 1st Class SOLDIER and the One-Winged Angel and applied it to two different versions of him. This features the One-Winged Angel as the whumper and Bianca Moore, the Whumpee. It's more than 6 I know, but I am a rebel.

Content Warnings: emotional manipulation, physical violence, non-consensual control, possessive behavior, choking, implied abuse, intimidation, coercion.

Bianca swallowed back the quaint dinner of potatoes and steak she had made for herself and stared into his emotionless cyan eyes, watching the feline pupils constrict in the candlelight. The rest of her steak sat upon the white china. The bloody juice spread across the plate’s surface and beneath her mash potatoes, tinging it pink.

“I warned you what would happen if you tried to escape, Angel.” The One-Winged Angel loomed over her. Silver hair flowed down his back and gently swung against his rump, shimmering like a waterfall reflecting moonlight as he slammed her against wall directly behind them. His hand curled around her black choker, grasping the heart charm that denoted ownership: his ownership over her, the warning showing that she belonged to none other than the One-Winged Angel’s, not even that alternate version of him could claim ownership. There would be no doubt about his claim.

“I—” She couldn’t speak. It was as if the words were stuck in her throat and she had just swallowed thick, black molasses. Bianca had to escape and flee, but this was all her fault, right? He did warn her.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Sahar Tartak

Published: Apr 22, 2024

I was stabbed in the eye last night on Yale University’s campus because I am a Jew.

I wish I could say I was surprised, but since October 7, Yale has refused to take action against students glorifying violence, chanting “resistance is justified,” “celebrat[ing] the resistance’s success,” and fundraising for “Palestinian anarchist fighters” on the frontlines of the “resistance.” In more recent days, the school has allowed students to run roughshod over their most basic policies against postering, time and place restrictions, disorderly conduct, respect for university property, and the rights of others, not to mention stalking and harassment.

Yesterday, I paid the price for their inaction.

This latest round of anti-Israel demonstrations at Yale began April 10 when a group of a dozen Yale students threatened to go on a hunger strike if, by the end of the week, the university did not divest from weapons manufacturers “contributing to Israel’s assault on Palestine.” The strikers’ letter, posted around campus, claimed “our existence in this University and this country are ones defined by necropolitics,” seeming to invoke a blood libel about Jewish power. 

The hunger strike began April 13, when students set up a tent encampment outside of Yale’s Sterling Library and later that week moved locations to Beinecke Plaza, which is at the center of campus and is home to Yale’s World War II memorial. At the time, my friends and I had thought that this was nothing more than a tactic to intimidate prospective and admitted Jewish students, who were on campus visiting that week: a sign next to the encampment read “Ask your tour guide about Yale’s investment in genocide.”

By April 15, the hunger strikers were joined by a new anti-Israel campus group called “Occupy Beinecke.” Occupy Beinecke erected a wall on Beinecke Plaza, and covered the Plaza with dozens of large posters, including a memorial (where students drop off flowers) for Walid Daqqa, who commanded the terrorist group the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine and was imprisoned for the kidnapping, mutilation, and murder of 19-year-old Israeli Moshe Tamam.

I’m well aware of students’ free speech rights, having worked closely with the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression as well as the Foundation Against Intolerance and Racism, which both helped me ramp up a campus magazine this year. The issue isn’t students who glorify Hamas—as morally perverse as I find that view. It’s that Yale administrators and professors have cowered to the mob and have refused to stand up for the most basic Yale values by condemning their glorification of terrorism and demonization of Jews. Indeed, Pierson’s head of college told me in October that Yale’s 14 heads of college were all instructed not to advertise a Shabbat dinner mourning the lives of those lost on October 7. 

By April 20, the students’ encampment had grown to roughly forty tents, sleeping bags, umbrellas, and a stereo. On Saturday night, a student in a Class of 2026 group chat encouraged Yalies to come and show their support for Yalies4Palestine. As a student journalist for the Yale Free Press, I went to check it out. Other reporters from the Yale Daily News were already on the scene.

I should say here that I am a visibly observant Jew who wears a large Star of David around my neck and dresses modestly. I went over with my friend Netanel Crispe, who is also identifiably Jewish because of his beard, black hat, and tzitzit.

When we approached the anti-Israel protest accompanying the tent encampment to document the demonstration, we were quickly walled off by demonstration organizers and attendees who stood in a line in front of us. No one else documenting the event was blockaded this way. 

In every direction we moved, demonstrators stood in front of us, arms linked, yelling along with the crowd. (Watch this video and ask yourself if this would happen to a student who did not look visibly Jewish.)

They shoved us and waved their flashlights in our eyes. One demonstrator held up a boombox in front of Netanel’s face, blasting a rap song with the lyrics:

Fuck Israel, Israel a bitch / Bitch we out here mobbin’ on some Palestine shit / Free Palestine bitch, Israel gon’ die bitch / Nigga it’s they land why you out here tryna rob it / Bullshit prophets, y’all just want the profit

As I separated from Netanel and tried to walk through, the wall of protest organizers in front of me remained. When I said, “I can walk. I have freedom of movement,” they mocked me: “Do you hear that, everybody? She can walk!”

Before too long, the protesters encircled me in addition to the human blockade. Their arms linked, and they danced in a circle around me so that I was pinned between them, the human blockade, and a wall. Some other demonstrators noticed this and joined in on the taunting. 

They pointed their middle fingers at me and yelled “Free Palestine,” and the taunting continued until a six-foot-something male protester holding a Palestinian flag waved the flag in my face and then stabbed me with it in my left eye.

My assailant was masked and wearing a keffiyeh, concealing his identity. He also wore glasses and a black jacket. I started to yell and chase after him, but the wall of students continued to block me as I screamed. Next, I went to the Yale police, but they offered little in the way of assistance. They told me that their orders came from administrators who weren’t present at the demonstration, and that there were only seven officers to handle a crowd of about 500. So I was checked out by an ambulance EMT, who recommended I go to the hospital.

The midnight demonstration, the encampment, the violence, all of it violates Yale policy. Some of it, like my assault, also violates state and federal law. Yet nothing meaningful seems to happen in response. Given Yale’s permissiveness, I had the sinking feeling that someone would get hurt. I just didn’t expect it to be me. 

I felt pressure where the stick of the flag had hit my left eye and had a headache last night and much of today. I’m okay now, though. But last night, sitting in the hospital, I couldn’t help but think of my mother, Shahnaz, who grew up in Iran. Her neighbors threw rocks at her for being a Jew. She has a scar on her eyelid to this day. 

Sahar Tartak is a sophomore at Yale. She is a student leader for Chabad and editor-in-chief of the Yale Free Press.

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Whumpril 2024 - Day 18 - Broken Glass

Manager Mariano time c:

TWs: blood, hand wounds, ableism, glass in wounds, a teenager gets hurt and also scared

"Don't move."

Violet froze as her new manager's voice boomed through the empty coffee shop from the back office, right on the heels of a whole box-full of special, holiday-themed glass stirrers hitting the tile floor and exploding. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes as she tensed, hearing the quick footsteps of the man immediately starting towards her. She was so dead.

This was her first day and her first job and she'd been stupid to believe Abby when she said that this job was easy. Abby would kill her if Mister Cross didn't, she'd vouched for Violet and talked her up about being a good worker. Good workers didn't make a huge mess three hours into their first shift.

Hastily she crouched and started trying to scoop the broken pieces back into the cardboard box. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--" She whimpered, gasping when the glass tore at her fingertips.

"Hey, hey, don't move." Mister Cross repeated, scooping the broom and a roll of paper towels into his hands as he arrived. "Just leave it there."

Violet pulled her hands tight against herself, nodding in acknowledgement. She watched as he swept around her, quick strokes of the broom collecting the biggest pieces of glass into a pile. Then he tore off some paper towels, got them wet in the sink they washed their hands in, and wiped a careful ring around her.

"There," He said, finally, standing to toss the now-glittering paper towels into the trash. "There, now you won't get glass on your shoes."

Violet watched, vision wobbling from the tears still gathering in her eyes, as he offered his hands out. She didn't want to take them. They were scarred, and weird looking and rippled like a brownie's surface, and the thought of them made her skin crawl.

"Let me get you to the office so I can get your hands cleaned up. I won't let you slip."

This close, when he'd taken off his hoodie and was just in his jeans and tee, she realized that his biceps were about the size of her head and that his arms were just as messed up as his hands were. He'd definitely killed people before. The thought made her stomach drop.

When she rested her wrists against his palms, she shuddered. His hands were warm, though, and he was steady when he helped her stand again. The office was quiet, and when he helped her into the computer chair she shivered. The chair was comfortable at least, even with his hoodie draped over the back of it.

He walked to the storage room and grabbed one of the plastic chairs, setting it over the weird stain on the carpet before taking a seat next to her.

Reaching into the desk drawer, Mister Cross pulled out a plastic case with a blue taped plus sign on it and a tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol. "I try to keep a first aid kit stocked in here, it has most anything you'd need and plenty you might not." He said, retrieving some tweezers from the kit and disinfecting them with the rubbing alcohol.

As he waved them in the air to dry them quicker, he held out one of his awful hands again. "May I see your cut? I want to make sure we get all the glass out before you go to an urgent care."

"I'm going to a doctor after this?" Violet asked, disbelieving. She hesitantly lowered one of her hands into his palm. He didn't squeeze or hold her tight, he just leaned a little closer and squinted like her mom always did when she had a splinter.

"Of course. You can call your parents after we get you bandaged up." He said, tilting Violet's hand slowly. She saw little glimmering shards in her fingertips, and groaned. "It's alright, just lean back. I'll do the hard part. It'll be over in just a minute."

"I can't do it, Mister Cross." Tears started to roll down her face as she felt the delicate scrape of the tweezers, and her eyes slammed shut as she leaned back. "I can't--it's gonna hurt too much." She didn't want him to dig into her fingers. She didn't want to feel him pulling at anything, she just wanted to go home. The biggest one looked so deep, there was no way he could get it out without making it worse.

"First one is out, you're doing great Violet."

"What?" That startled her, and when she opened his eyes she saw him delicately placing the biggest glass splinter onto a tissue. "How...?"

"None of them are deep at all, they just need a little help. I wouldn't do this if I thought I'd have to dig for them." He spoke with the same tone he'd used to explain how to make a frappe earlier that day, calm and flat. His eyebrows were furrowed just a little bit in concentration, and he tilted her hand back and forth before moving in with the tweezers again.

She didn't expect this process to be so gentle. She found herself watching as he removed the other two, and she wasn't as hesitant to let him take care of her other hand after he'd bandaged the first one. "I...I don't need to go to the doctor, I'm probably okay." She said, voice small as she watched Mister Cross work.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "No, no. You don't want to play around with the health of your hands. It's better to take an hour out of your day to make sure you get some decent antibiotics and a professional's opinion, at least." He set the tweezers aside once he got the last of the glass out, starting to bandage those fingers too. "Your family won't have to pay for it, either. There's a doctor not far from here who'll sort out the bill with us and give you a note if you need it."

Mister Cross treated her like she was made of glass. He didn't even sound angry, really. He wasn't slamming anything, or yelling, or huffing, or sounding frustrated with her. "Why aren't you firing me? Those stir stick things were special."

Mister Cross shook his head and laughed, quiet and just as calm as before. "Accidents happen. I've spilled a whole bag of coffee beans before and had to toss all five pounds. It wouldn't be fair to fire you over something we've all done.

"Plus," He started, a conspiratorial edge winding its way into his voice. "I probably would've tossed them myself anyway. They just seemed like they could snap in someone's drink if they hit ceramic too hard."

Violet let out a sob that she didn't know she was holding in. Mister Cross froze, looking startled as she dragged her wrist over her eyes. "I--Violet, are...do you want a...a tissue?" He hesitantly offered her the box of tissues, and she sobbed harder.

The wide-eyed expression on his face made her laugh, caught between the ache of her fingers, the emotional release of knowing she hadn't lost her job and the realization that Abby hadn't lied about Mister Cross not being that scary. She took one of them and nodded, pressing her face into it as the sudden rush subsided.

"Yeah! I'm...I think I'm okay." Violet took a deeper breath, letting it out and feeling steadier than she had all day. "Thank you for helping me, Mister Cross."

He seemed to need a moment longer to process what she'd said, hesitantly setting the tissues back on the desk. "Of course." He finally said, standing again and turning to leave. "Call home and hang out in here until your ride shows up, no need to worry about the rest of the day."

Somehow, Violet thought when Mister Cross returned for just a moment to set a freshly warmed muffin down on the desk next to her, she sort of understood why Abby didn't quit after that shooting happened.

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper @bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @honeybees-125

[whaledocboi]

just a bit of banter

i listened to teenagers by mcr in the morning and this immediately popped into my head, i thought it'd be really funny