#crimes against humanity again I'm afraid

[quill-of-thoth]

Letters from Watson: The Dying Detective

Crimes in context:

Medical History Sorry in advance for the medical grossness. Please skip to the cut if you never want to see the words open sores ever again. First, to piece together Culverton Smith's crimes against humanity and also the murder. Culverton Smith appears to have gone to Sumatra to make a living planting, with the labor primarily done by indentured servants or low wage workers, possibly slaves, from the local population. (I say slaves because although slavery was not officially legal in England or it's colonies at this time, there have been historically a lot of situations that are essentially slavery with some thin veneer of justification, especially when you're occupying a country, and you can make any law you want about requiring people to work for you for nothing, or the next thing to nothing.) To top this off, he was either experimenting on these workers with his favorite tropical disease, or using them to incubate it so that he could keep a stock of the infectious material on hand.

This is how Smallpox stock used to be carried overseas: A chain of people would be infected with a diluted or weakened virus. When one person's symptoms would start to wane, the fluids from their open sore would be transferred via a cut in the skin to the next person in line, who would carry the infection until they began to recover. In the transfer of smallpox for the purposes of creating vaccinations and inoculations, these were volunteers. The carriers also benefitted in many cases from being inoculated in the process, since these cases of smallpox were milder than the wild variants, and being a carrier would give you about the same immunity as an inoculation of the day. Now, we have refrigeration, glycerol stocks, the ability to use only portions of viruses (usually the proteins in their outer shell) in vaccines and most importantly, sterile fucking needles. I will never be leaving this century, even though we do have covid. All this to say that Culverton Smith can rot in hell, but I also wanted to cover Watson: why did he write this case up?

Watson's Writing

For those of you who have made it this far into my reread without knowing what is to come: The Final Problem, in which Holmes dies, will occur in April of 1891. All Holmes short stories, and the remaining two novels, were published after this date. Presuming that my date of 1890 is correct for this story (which we can, and will, revisit later as it was NOT my initial impression of the timeline), we can presume that Watson had reasons for not publishing it in his initial collection of 24 short stories, likely grief. Thinking back on this time would have been extremely painful from a variety of directions: as the months go on and on he's further convinced that Holmes is not faking it this time, and Watson probably desperately wished that he was.

Then too, despite the fact that Watson closes the story abruptly without describing his emotions at Holmes' deception, we can deduce them. He's insulted - despite Holmes' words that he never doubted his professional abilities, just his ability to lie, Holmes still disparaged him. He's angry - Holmes has shut him out of his plans and made him believe for the better part of three or four hours that he was about to lose his best friend. He's frustrated because despite the illness being an act Holmes is still harming himself with his denial of his body's limits, i.e. that a human can die if they're dehydrated for three days, and also his casual use of poisons. Belladonna, it turns out, is not good for your eyes, which is why we don't use it anymore, aside from the hideous toxicity.

Watson has been a prop in Holmes' stagings of case conclusions before, but there's a vast difference between being framed for breaking a bowl and playing along, and being deceived, berated, insulted, and isolated to ensure that you play the part correctly. There is a definite possibility that they did have a fight over this - even Baring-Gould's timeline has a gap of over a month between this and the next recorded case. It isn't an unusual amount of time, as no doubt Holmes did not always have cases that were cinematic enough to make the cut, and also Watson had a business and a household to attend to, but it's enough time for them to pointedly not see each other, and for Watson to forgive him and come around for a post Christmas visit.

Ask a microbiologist: WTF is Smith doing with his jars of bacteria?

Hello Tumblr, I grow germs for a living. And based on the description of Smith's lab / study I have a few questions, namely, how is he storing his bacteria? Based on the jars and bottles that he refers to as his "prisons" he's keeping them at uncontrolled room temperature. This probably tracks with best practice at this time, as refrigeration was based on putting things in a box with ice, and iirc although bacteria were known to be the drivers of spoilage, the idea that they would grow, and die, slower at lower temperatures was not part of professional microbiology at the time. Also based on Smith's own words, he's storing the bacterial colonies in agar, which matches with modern methods... sort of. Agar is solid at room temperature, and when it's liquid (at about 100 Celsius), it's too hot for most bacteria to survive in. This is important because the description of these jars and bottles appears to imply that they are filled with solidified agar, and there's really no reason Smith needs a full jar of solid agar to keep his bacteria in: when we keep bacteria in a liquid it's called a broth and does not have agar in it, because we want it to remain a liquid. Yes, Smith could be doing a fairly standard setup where he pours a quarter inch of agar into a vessel and, when the agar is solid, "plates" bacteria on top of it. The description does not unambiguously rule it out. But if he's trying to preserve his bacteria by entombing them in solid agar, and then melting the agar to retrieve them, it's a lot funnier. Mostly because it would mean that his pet bioweapon from Sumatra isn't viable anymore.

#Letters from Watson #The Dying Detective #Crimes in Context #crimes against humanity again I'm afraid #human experimentation #self poisoning for reasons of being an extreme dumbass #look another story I coincidentally have professional knowledge vaguely related to

[cryptid-intraining]

More Jason Todd Headcanons:

He refuses to take opiod painkillers no matter how bad he is hurting because he is terrified of getting an addiction like his mother.

To this day, Jason is the only one Alfred allows to help in the kitchen.

He never takes elevators. Self explanatory.

The other Bats have seen and heard him have nightmares before and they always assumed they were all about the Joker or maybe the League until one night when Jason ended up crashing at the Manor, Dick and Tim find him crying from the couch in his sleep and he calls out Bruce's name, begging and pleading until he wakes with a choked scream with a hand pressed tightly to the scar at his throat. They never ask but after that point both Dick and Tim struggle to look at Bruce in the eyes.

Related to that, Jason never told anyone about how Bruce cut his throat with a batarang because he always assumed none of them would believe him, that they'd just accuse him of lying.

Damian once threatened him with a crowbar and Dick had to physically restrain Jason from going after the small child with his knives. Dick had a serious talk with Damian after about not trying to re-traumatised your brothers just because they're retelling embarrassing baby stories your mother told them.

Edit because I'm bad at wording things and I've stopped caring about pissing Batman fanboys off: Jason is absolutely one of the best, if not the most formidable fighter in the Batfam. He has trained with Bruce since he was a kid, then the League, and was the only human to train with and survive the All Caste. He is fucking scary. But more than his physical prowess is his ability to get into people's heads, he studies people's flaws and weakness and uses that against them. He isn't just a great fighter, he's a intelligent fighter. One of his listed strengths on his Wiki page is literally 'tactican'.

His style of detective work isn't like Bruce's or Dick's. He grew up in Crime Alley, surrounded by crime since he was a kid, he understands how it works and how to use it to his advantage and he has resources and connections that none of the others have. He's less about the forensics and science and more about the people. What makes them tick and how he can use that to get what he needs.

Related to that, he also is insanely stubborn. He has grit, sure, but he is also afraid. He isn't afraid of death but he is so fucking scared of the possibility that if he dies again he might come back. In his words "the worse part of about his death was that it wasn't permanent." As such he will go further than most to prevent it from happening again. Even if that means enduring the worst pain imaginable because still to this day the thing that haunts him most, more than the warehouse and crowbar and Joker, was waking up in that coffin and realising no one was coming for him. That he was alone.

He hoarded food when he was first adopted by Bruce. And slept with a chair jammed under the handle of his door.

It took months for Jason to let Bruce or Alfred touch him as a kid. His only male authority figure had been Willis and it had instilled a strong distrust of older men in him.

Him and Stephanie both volunteer at shelters and food banks in their free time. Steph once invited Cass because she wanted her to see that Jason was more than just a killer.

Tim still flinches from him when he gets too close and it breaks Jason's heart a little. He's hurt people but it has always been him in control, his decision. The Pit Madness took that away from him, or at least it twisted his betrayal and hurt into rage and he still hasn't quite figured out how to apologize for that.

#batfam #jason todd #red hood #batfamily #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #cassandra cain #damian wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #batfam shenanigans #batfam headcanons #incorrect batfamily quotes #incorrect quotes #jason todd headcanon #headcanon #jason todd angst

[theredofoctober]

Runt: an Omni-Man x Gender Neutral Reader Darkfic

TW: noncon, violence, blood, humiliation/verbal degredation

Synopsis: Reader's mother, the superhero Firebright, has gone into hiding. Omni-Man brutally interrogates Reader as to her whereabouts.

Reader is a Young Adult, Gender Neutral, appearance not specified

Read after the cut

✂️ ✂️ ✂️

"Where is your mother?"

There is something wrong with Omni-Man, frigidity in the barrens of his pale eyes. He stands at the door like an omen of shadows to come, his bulk filling its narrow confines immovably.

You gaze up at him, and the ice of his derision glares back.

“I asked you a question,” says Omni-Man. “Where is Firebright?”

His air of perpetual and mildly pompous congeniality has fallen away from him, perhaps had never truly been.

He's a stranger, now, come to your house with some hard purpose.

"My Mom?" you repeat, faintly. "She's out cleaning up after some crime, I think. I don't really know."

A lie, which you had promised you’d keep, come what may.

Your mother, a heroine of fire-wielding prowess, has informed you that she must go into hiding, from who or what threat she wouldn't say. You’d believed—without knowing its source—in that danger.

Now Omni-Man is at your door, and you think again of your mother's hands, how they had trembled. How thin she’d looked, and how afraid.

"I'm sorry, Nolan," you mumble. "I don't know when Mom’ll be back. She didn’t tell me."

"I don't believe that's true," says Omni-Man, and he steps forward, extending an arm to prevent you from closing the door against him. "I need you to tell me where she is immediately."

His face is handsome and severe, the jaw like a pane of white glass. The tension in it speaks of unshed violence and disdain, of loathing kept like a spider in an upturned jar, poised on release.

Fear draws you down in its dizzying pulse, and suddenly you're quite glad that your mother kept her location from you, that you can’t spit it out even under duress.

"I have no idea, really, I don’t," you say, and Omni-Man steers you back across the living room, his cloak whisking the backs of his thighs like a wind of blood. "Nolan, please. I swear I can't help you. What’s happening right now?"

You’re up against a wall, vulnerable and so very human. Unlike your parents, you’ve never developed powers of any kind to protect you or those you love, and Omni-Man knows it.

He’s been good friends with your mother since you were young, and has long comforted her with the suggestion that your abilities might one day arise. You’ve been no more a threat to this man than a moth to the devil, and yet you’d never once feared him, till now.

"Ellen must have given you some way to contact her," says Omni-Man, his mouth a joyless line beneath his moustache. "Call her immediately. Stop wasting my time with your blabber."

"I don't understand,” you say, avoiding the order. “Is something wrong?"

A gloved fist strikes the wall above your head, shaking down fragments of plaster upon you. Thinking how simply your skull might have bowed into a cave of bone beneath such pressure you cry out, a sound entirely too feeble to be called a scream.

Omni-Man looms over you, his eyes the blue of long dead flesh.

"Stop asking questions about things that have nothing to do with you. Either you hand Firebright over, or I show you what happens to those that get in my way."

There is, in a drawer in the house, a remote you could press, for the times in which your mother is otherwise unreachable. You could go to it, call her back from whatever bunker protects her from harm.

But as Omni-Man's stare bores through your anguished expression you understand, with a chilling clarity, that he means to kill your mother, and that only your stance against him preserves her life.

Gulping, you say, "Whatever you think my Mom did, she couldn't have done it. You know her, you're her friend, Nolan—"

Omni-Man’s fist grinds into the wall, his arm cutting through it to the shoulder.

"Don't use my name as though you mean anything to me, you pathetic, powerless runt. Look at the way you turned out: a snivelling weakling, not even a spark at your fingertips. No wonder your father left. You’re a disgrace to him and your mother. I'd be ashamed to have you as my child.”

Only shock halts the tears that burn behind your eyes, a wounded magma.

"Please don't say that to me,” you whisper. “I— I've always looked up to you. I love you, Nolan."

For a moment you think you see a flash of the old, kind feeling across Omni-Man’s chiselled features.

Almost at once it dies away.

"Too bad,” he says. “I don't love you, brat. Now tell me how to find your mother before I rip you into pieces."

Putting your hands on Omni-Man’s chest, you gaze up at him with beseeching eyes.

"Nolan, Nolan, tell me what happened. I’ll help you figure it out. Whatever it is, I know Mom had nothing to do with it."

Something of your gentle touch, your cringing innocence, provokes him.

"Alright,” snaps Omni-Man. “You had your chance."

In a spurt of nauseating speed he drags you upstairs by a sudden grip on your throat, your breath smacked from your lungs as you hit your bed and roll across it, head over heels, like a fallen acrobat.

Omni-Man looks about him, scoffing at your room’s dated, childish decor, the tattered stuffed animals still poised in glassy-eyed rows on your dresser.

"No wonder you don't have any powers,” he sneers. “You're stunted in every way."

His hand makes a lariat of your shirt collar, briefly throttling you until your feet kick out in twitching throes. Then he rends the cloth down the middle, repeating the act on your lower garments before you’ve enough air to protest.

You’re so stunned that you don’t think to cover yourself, only stare, jaws parted, hot from cheek to toe with shame, with horror.

A beating was the furthest you’d expected from the interrogation: the intent behind the night cliffs of eyes upon you seems, even now, quite impossible, an absurdity plucked from some sticky summer dream.

"No,” you say— you speak in a low, flat sort of murmur, as you’d address a beloved dog that turns and shows its teeth. “Omni-Man, please, please, you're like family. You can't do this to me.”

"Of course I can,” he snaps. “And I'm going to do it over and over until you tell me where Firebright is. Daily, if I have to. I'll break you down until you're no better than a drooling animal. Not that you're so far from that now."

A devastated moan spills from your tight throat as Omni-Man leans over you, his pale suit straining across his bulk. He pauses with his face close to yours, every vein in his eyes standing out like streaks of flame.

"Now, talk,” he says. “I don’t want to waste any more time here than I have to.”

Tears make glazed glass of your cheeks as you turn your face aside, unable to look at him any longer.

"This isn't like you, Nolan."

Omni-Man’s mouth is a razor’s wound across his white teeth when he answers.

"This is more me than you'll ever know."

He pins you to the bed with an abrupt and frightening strength, opening the groin of his suit with his other hand to jerk the flesh that rises through it.

"What about Debbie?" you blurt out, and Omni-Man stills, a red glove closed over the throbbing evidence of his anger.

"Don't talk about my wife!" he barks. “You’re not worthy.”

Your eyes return to his face, drawn to its savage rictus in wretched fascination. How long has Omni-Man—the husband, the father, the friend—been so twisted with this private hatred for you?

Interpreting the question from your fearful look, he answers, his hand still at work on his cock.

"I always knew you had an embarrassing crush on me. Following me around every event with puppy dog eyes, always asking if there was anything you could do for me. Degrading yourself at every turn. Laughable.

“And I ignored you. Debbie made jokes about you. Even then I knew you were just a fragile, weak-willed child, craving the adoration your father never gave you."

"Stop it,” you say, inching back across the bed on the heels of your palms. “Stop it!"

A hand traps your ankle, snatching you back under the colossus of your new enemy. His body is a cage of rigid musculature, even the smallest tendon able to kill.

"You brought this on yourself by defying me,” says Omni-Man. “Did you think I'd just walk away when you refused me information? Take pity on you?"

"Nolan—"

He cuts you off with a blow that near claims your sight in its ferocity.

"You whine like an infant. Why didn’t you ever grow up?”

You’re still attempting to process the pain across your eye socket as Omni-Man forces your legs apart around him, handling the joints with scornful disregard of their mortal delicacy.

“Where is Firebright?” asks Omni-Man again, and you can only shake your head, mumbling in a breathless stream of false denial.

“I don’t know, I don’t remember where she said she was going—”

Omni-Man’s lip curls in bald disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Well, let’s see how much you remember now.”

Your attacker opens you to him with rough, clothed fingers, tearing tight flesh ajar up to the knuckles, three of them deep. He draws them in and out of your hole like a blade across a whetstone, watching you flail and gibber beneath his merciless use with a stern and unflinching malice.

Then, as you scream Omni-Man’s name in abandoned repetition, he rallies his member to its furthest solidity and runs you through, all agony and annihilation, and you think as he does it that you may well die of his rage.

The floorboards moan with his rutting, its obscenity a crime of war. This is as much a degradation of Earth’s piteous race as a whole as of your person, your naked flesh symbolic of that which many alien societies covet to rule or else destroy.

That any human being has borne this and lived seems miraculous, yet you know it has been done and enjoyed for Debbie Grayson to stand by him. To love him.

You cry out, aware as you do so that you’ll only invite further pain.

“Really,” mocks Omni-Man. “I’m barely trying to hurt you. If I did, I'd rip you in half.”

In a jolt of violence he drags you up against a wall, the friction skimming a leaf of skin from your back as he stabs deeper in. Your breath comes in asthmatic chokes, punched from your chest by very force of his fucking.

Some wet stream warms your thigh, of what matter you don’t care to know.

“Give me the name of your mother’s location or I keep on going,” says Omni-Man. “You’re already bleeding. Your feeble body surely can’t take much more.”

His cock is a farrier’s tool, cutting with its every wrenching motion. Its length and girth alone would make you weep, but it is his wielding of it that is a thing of horror to you.

You feel Omni-Man’s hands shut about your wrists, testing the fragility of the bone.

“Aren’t you even going to fight me?” he taunts. “Go on. Show me what you’ve got in you, if anything at all.”

Closing your eyes, you try with all the force of strength and concentration in you to summon the flame you’ve long envied in your mother, and have never once achieved.

There is nothing, nothing, still, only an icicle of sweat down your brow.

Omni-Man laughs shortly, pulling you further up across the wall in another volley of thrusts.

“Just as I thought,” he comments. “Wasted genes.”

As he lets go of your arms you throw one of them forward in a weak strike across your attacker’s cheek. A mite star of fire bolts from your palm, and you yelp in both fear and surprise at the sight of it, at the thought of retribution to come.

Omni-Man rubs his face, which remains, as expected, quite unmarked.

“Is that it?” he asks. “You’re barely warm.”

“I’m not a superhero,” you cry out, as he returns to his mean handling of your body. “I’m just a human, okay? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

The blue eyes, once so lovely to you, roll in disgust.

“Of course there is. You could have been so much more. Take a look at yourself.”

Omni-Man flies you to your floor-length mirror, yanking your head back so that you might see yourself split apart on his atrocity.

How small you look, a flailing rag against the beast's taut muscle. His cock works in and out of you with the efficiency of some extra-terrestrial vehicle on a jaunt that will not end.

The sound of it is slick, explicit.

“You’re lucky that this is what I’m doing to you when I’m capable of so much worse," says Omni-Man, watching you arrogantly in your reflection.

“This is wrong,” you insist. “This isn’t you, Nolan.”

“I’m a Viltrumite,” snaps Omni-Man, and he flattens you to the bed again with a force that snaps the frame beneath it. “This is what my people are. You should be on your knees, thanking me for sparing your life.”

He turns you onto your belly, snarling as he stabs through your form from behind.

“This is the last time I’ll ask before I really injure you,” he says. “Where's Firebright?”

Only the lasting thought that you must save your mother from something more awful than this prevents you from delivering his answer.

Omni-Man grips you by the throat until your eyes stream and your pain barks from between your lips in a coughing spume of blood.

In frantic hope you turn one hand backwards, thinking to strap his hips in a band of fire.

“You think you can hurt me?” asks Omni-Man, squeezing your forearm until you sob and relent. “I don’t feel a thing. This is more humiliating than if you were entirely without powers. What use are you to your planet?”

“Nolan,” you croak. “I’m begging you to stop this.”

Somewhere in the catastrophe of sensation there is the start of pleasure, your body’s weary attempt to salve its bullied entrance. You lie quite stiff and still, praying that in doing so you won’t provoke that last ruination into being.

“You know how to end this,” says Omni-Man. “But perhaps this is what you prefer: to be shown your place by your superior. If I’d done this a year ago you would have presented yourself to me, ready and willing to be of use.”

To your despair his hand ventures to your tortured sex and makes full display of his knowledge. His strokes are coarse, efficient, in time to his cock’s quick barbarity. You smell cologne, and the fabric of his suit, and hair oil; your nose, your throat, is full of him.

Perhaps your soul will absorb his evil too, through osmosis.

Clenching your teeth across your tongue you steer back the piteous little whines his taunting abuse of your weakness brings.

“Part of you is still willing, I see,” Omni-Man comments. “Let’s see how long it can hold out against me.”

You cry, and hiss, and squeeze shut your fists until the stench of smoke greys the air between you. Still your orgasm is wrenched out on hand and cock like an eldritch birth, another plundered reward for his collection.

“Barely a minute,” jeers Omni-Man. “And all that mess. How humiliating.”

He ponders, hips grinding against yours with the approaching threat of his own end.

One of his fists arcs back your skull, forcing your tear-raw eyes to his again. What was handsome in him now seems only the frightful visage of a warlord, all pillage and pursuit of valour.

“I’m responsible for you finally developing your abilities,” says Omni-Man. “Why don’t you thank me for it?”

You stare up at him in terror and distress, your tongue swollen to near uselessness at the roof of your mouth. Omni-Man’s hand slams beneath your chin, pinching some nerve there until your vision blisters into an abomination of light.

Through blood-stringed teeth you answer.

“Thank you, Omni-Man.”

“You’re welcome, runt,” he leers, and with a gloved palm against your gut he flattens you to him, having you feel every pulse of his triumphant finish within you.

He holds you there for some time, your bare, bloody back staining the white of his suit and complimenting the red. You daren’t roll out from under him, remain, panting shallowly, adhered to your attacker by his spend.

His moustached lips scuff the back of your neck, more threatening than intimate.

“I’ll find Firebright,” he says, “whether you tell me where she is or not. But next time I drop by I expect you to be more talkative. Do you understand?”

---

Tagging @hewwokitti3 so you can find this 😇

#omni man fic #omni man x reader #omni man #tw noncon #tw violence #tw blood #verbal degradation #darkfic #nolan grayson x reader #nolan grayson

[dyns33]

Down the Pit

I think I'll do a little Bane x reader series, because Bane is doing things to my brain lately.

Y/N is female, orphan, and from Gotham, because even if I'm not sure to put Batman in the story, I need some references.

Y/N regretted going to India.

The few people she had told about her trip had warned her. It wasn't always a good idea to go alone. But she was young, she had just finished high school, and she had always been alone since her parents died.

The first days went very well, and then it was hell.

Y/N didn't really understand how things had happened, but she had been wrongly accused of a crime, a serious crime, after having all of her things stolen.

Without her papers or her phone, not knowing who to call, she had not been able to ask for help, she had not been able to defend herself, and once she had been found guilty, she had been sent to a prison. But not an ordinary prison.

The Pit seemed bottomless when they took her away. The moon barely shone, not allowing her to see where exactly she was. It was difficult to catch the rope.

She cried and begged, but the guards didn't care, ordering her to be quiet.

Luckily for her, Y/N obeyed, going downstairs in silence. The other inmates were sleeping, not seeing her arrive, the night hiding her arrival.

A man who introduced himself as a doctor greeted her. He seemed surprised and sad to see a woman here, taking her hand to quickly lead her to a cell.

“We have to hide this.” He said giving her some loose clothing, his eyes fixed on her chest, before giving her an old knife while looking at her hair. “And we have to cut it.”

"You don't understand… I have nothing to do here, I'm innocent…"

"Cut. Cut, now, if you don't want them to take you."

There were no other women in the Pit. Obviously it was rare that they were sent there, and they did not survive long. Y/N's main crime was being a foreigner, young and stupid, whose fate didn't matter to anyone.

The doctor was kind enough to let her hide in his cell, but it was not a viable solution. The other prisoners were curious, and there was the problem of food. The old man wasn't strong enough to go to the middle of the prison and fight for some water and something to eat.

He could have swapped Y/N, but there was still some humanity left at the bottom of the Pit. The doctor spoke with another prisoner. A big guy who occupied the next cell. He had tied up some ratty sheets so no one could observe him and he only went out when necessary.

Speaking in a language she didn't understand, the doctor pointed at her. The tall prisoner observed Y/N. His eyes were the only thing she could see, the rest of his face covered by some sort of turban. He nodded slowly.

"Bane agrees to take you."

"What do you mean ?" panicked the young woman as she moved away from them, cowering in a corner of the cell.

"He will protect you. He tried to protect the last one, and he is the guardian of her child. Go with him."

Not really having a choice, Y/N followed Bane, completely frightened by this silent stranger.

There was indeed a child, sitting on the bed, playing with carved pieces of wood. Unlike her, the child was not afraid when he saw her, visibly delighted that a new person was visiting them.

This isolation had an explanation. The Pit was dangerous for a child, but it turned out that Bane had a secret. Talia.

Very protective, he took a while to let Y/N near the child, while the girl demanded that he play with her, tell stories from the outside world and hold her in his arms The little girl had lost her mother a few years before, only vaguely remembering the woman who gave birth to her.

“Tell me again about the snow ! And the wind ! And the ocean !”

"Yes, yes, calm down Talia. It's late, don't you want to sleep instead ?"

“Tell.” ordered Bane, who refused little to the child.

He tried not to show it, but the man loved those stories too. He listened, holding Talia against his chest until she fell asleep, his gaze only turning away from Y/N if there was a suspicious noise outside the cell.

There was only one bed and it was for the child. At first, Y/N was allowed to sit against a wall with a sheet. It wasn't comfortable, the ratty blanket was useless and she often woke up shivering.

Still speaking little, Bane ended up lifting her one evening to stick her to him, right at the foot of the bed. He was huge, warm, but soft. Several times she had seen him fight with the other inmates, but he had never been violent towards the child or her.

After several months, they began to feel like a little family. Bane provided their protection, Y/N taught them many things, and Talia was their light in this darkness.

Just as he sometimes didn't know what to do when the little girl was sulking, he didn't know how to react when the woman cried on his shoulder, thinking about her past life and realizing that she would never get out of this place. His hands gently massaged her back, but he said nothing. There was nothing to say.

The other inmates had noticed Y/N, and even while mistaking her for a man, some were envious. Another subject of fighting, for Bane's 'wife'.

“I am not your wife.” she muttered when he came back covered in blood.

"They'd be more aggressive if they thought you weren't mine."

“I am not something to own.”

"No, here you are less than an object. You are nothing. Others would ask you for favors just so that you can breathe."

"It is not fair."

"I know, Habibi."

He didn't add that she might be grateful that he took such good care of her, but the message was clear. And he wasn't wrong.

In the Pit, there were no rules. There was no kindness. Bane's behavior was special. Unlike the doctor, he had been thrown here when he was very young, practically born in this place and yet he was calmer than the others, more patient, more polite.

He didn’t ask anything from Y/N in return for his protection, other than taking care of Talia. He could have done her a lot of harm if he wanted.

Even though she didn't fully accept her situation, Y/N tried to survive by holding on to what she had. What she had was this little girl who had never seen the sky, and this taciturn giant.

One evening, after several months had passed, while everyone was asleep, she passed her hand over Bane's face, removing his shawl. He was young, younger than she had imagined. Quite handsome. Her dark eyes watched her as she touched his cheek, his nose, then his lips.

He trembled slightly when she kissed him. He didn't know anything about kissing. About love. Those kinds of things weren't useful here. He who was so tender did not know tenderness. Like beauty and joy, like women and children, all this would quickly die in the Pit.

Talia was eight years old when the other prisoners discovered that she was not a boy. They wondered about Y/N. The cell's small lock wouldn't protect them for long, and Bane couldn't do anything against the entire prison.

The doctor had told them about the escape attempts, and all the failures. The falls. There was no time to think about that. The fate that awaited them was worse than a fall.

Using his fists and all his fury, Bane blasted a path towards the climbing wall, shouting at them to run and not look back.

To make sure she wouldn't fall or get caught, Y/N had the child go first, following her while doing her best not to think about what would happen if they didn't arrive all the way to the top.

Maybe fate had mercy, maybe their determination was stronger than everything, but when the sun touched her skin, Y/N let out a scream, mixed with happiness and despair, as she took Talia in her arms.

This immense ball of fire fascinated the kid for a few moments, then she turned towards the Pit. From the top, we couldn't see anything. It was impossible to see Bane.

At the child's insistence, they stayed two days, hoping that he would join them. Then, the heat, hunger and thirst forced them to move.

“We have to find my father !” Talia declared. "Mom told me about him. He was supposed to come get us, he's very powerful. He can help Bane."

It was impossible to explain to her that finding someone with just their name wasn't that simple. The world was much bigger than the Pit. Although Ra's al Ghul wasn't a very common name.

However, it was enough to say it in the first city they found for men in black to start following them, before asking them why they were looking for Ra's al Ghul.

Obviously he was the leader of a gang of ninjas or something like that. He did not know that his wife had taken his place in prison. He didn't know he had a daughter. The news seemed to please him.

At least, that was what Y/N thought she understood, since she didn’t meet him. He had no interest in meeting her. As soon as he had his daughter back, he ordered the young woman to be sent home.

He could have abandoned her in the middle of nowhere or had her killed, but maybe he suspected that Talia wouldn't be happy if she found out what had happened.

After more than three years of absence, Y/N found herself back home in Gotham. It was complicated to explain to the authorities that she was alive, that she had nothing left, that there was a horrible prison in India. There were a lot of questions, checks, endless procedures, just to get her identity back.

Some associations helped her find money and accommodation, but there was nothing regarding the Pit. It wasn't the Gotham Police Department's problem. They were not interested in what was happening in another country.

Y/N found a small job in a cafe, and after several months an apartment. Life was returning to normal. Except her life would never be normal again.

Every night she thought of Talia and Bane. She wondered if the child was okay. She wondered if the man was alive. She often cried, singing the lullabies she whispered to the little girl, remembering the powerful arms that surrounded her.

It seemed pointless and dangerous to return to India, but Y/N kept telling herself that she would see them again one day. After everything they had been through, she had to see them again. One day.

#batman #the dark knigth rises #bane #bane x reader #bane fanfiction #bane imagine

[tenderlywicked]

I'm watching Crime and Punishment with John Simm—and you know what? *banging my head against the keyboard* Of course, of course I got another Doctor Who plot bunny: a Dostoevsky/Dickensian setting, two fobwatched Time Lords struggling in a big filthy city, and there's a dollop of Victorian smut, obviously, along with the usual angst.

Harry Saxon is angry and bitter and disgusted with humanity in general. John, his friend and roommate, tries to inspire the good in him, but when they're both in dire need of money and Harry suddenly obtains it to pay the rent and get them food, John's afraid Harry has become a criminal. He tries to have a talk with him and preach and persuade him not to go down that path because he could be so much more, but he's not accusing Harry of anything outright in hope he will make a confession himself. And Harry confirms John's worst suspicions indeed as he swears not to do this again... except they're speaking of different things. Harry had nothing to sell but himself, and now John, his only friend and his only comfort, finds him sickening and damned, doesn't he?

#crime and punishment #doctor who #simm!master #tenth doctor #the master #the doctor #tensimm #doctor/master #the doctor and the master

[stromuprisahat]

Regarding Nikolai. it’s insane how the author and the fandom close their eyes and baby him. When he SA Alina, pushed her in a carriage so she could react, and then immediately gaslit her to think out was okay. He’s the one who actually used her and manipulated her to and succeed in getting the Ravkan crown. but the worst crime he has is the one where right after Genya tells him his father* and king is a rapist…..Nikolai rewarded the king. Nikolai covered up the king’s crime, made sure he received no trial at all, that no girls received justice, and to rub salt in the wound he gave the King a full expense paid retirement vacation with a “life full of luxury….safety” and even let the king choose where he would retire..oh sorry…LB calls it “exile.” So the King who never wanted to rule the nation, only wanted a life of luxury and attacking girls…gets a life of luxury far far away where he has no care or worry and he is free to attack any and all servants I’ve had in his luxury retirement. Leigh Bardugo should have re-read chapter 11 of ruin and rising. Rich white savior born with a silver spoon that manipulates, SA, and uses Alina go get in power let’s his father figure who literally SA’d genya and other girls go free and rewarded.

*father figure - publicly his father privately not really the bio dad And I call BS on the R&R proclamation that Nikolai didn’t know the king was a rapist. Nikolai was raised in the same halls, if the king’s reputation was so well known like LB keeps claiming it was in RoW then Nikolai would 100% know about it before he left for the military.

I have a problem with understanding Nikolai's actions.

It's caused by his moral alignment.

I simply cannot grasp how can someone put rules, established by other humans- therefore possibly faulty-, above preventing possible injustice. (Yes, I'm true neutral.) How can "a good" person be stopped by immaterial concept? If he believed there's some higher power, eventually judging all human actions, but he's an atheist!

What makes it more complicated, is his seeming moral flexibility. I'm not even halfway through Siege and Storm, and he doesn't seem bothered by lying, stealing, manipulation... is a piece of paper truly such a difference? Nobody wrote down rules about particular situations, so he can do whatever he pleases?

A bit of a hypocrite, isn't he?

... As he was helping me back into the coach, he slipped his arm around my waist. “Please don’t punch me,” he whispered. Then he yanked me hard against his chest and pressed his lips to mine. The crowd exploded into wild cheers, their voices crashing over us in an exultant roar. Before I could even react, Nikolai shoved me into the shadowy interior of the coach and slipped in after. He slammed the door behind him ... I turned on Nikolai and kicked him hard in the shin. He yelped, but that wasn’t nearly satisfying enough. I kicked him again. “Feel better?” he asked. “Next time you try something like that, I won’t kick you,” I said angrily. “I’ll cut you in half.” He brushed a speck of lint from his trousers. “Not sure that would be wise. I’m afraid the people rather frown on regicide.” “You’re not king yet, Sobachka,” I said sharply. “So don’t tempt me.” “I don’t see why you’re upset. The crowd loved it.” “I didn’t love it.” He raised a brow. “You didn’t hate it.” I kicked him again. This time his hand snaked out like a flash and captured my ankle. If it had been winter, I would have been wearing boots, but I was in summer slippers and his fingers closed over my bare leg. My cheeks blazed red. “Promise not to kick me again, and I’ll promise not to kiss you again,” he said. “I only kicked you because you kissed me!” I tried to pull my leg back, but he kept a hard grip. “Promise,” he said. “All right,” I bit out. “I promise.” “Then we have a deal.”

Siege and Storm- Chapter 11

This isn't gaslighting. It's another kind of manipulation, if anything. He's playing it down, but in his case I'd say it isn't caused by some malevolent intentions, but different view on the matter. He's playing a part. While he isn't repulsed by the idea of kissing Alina, he didn't do it for his personal enjoyment, but to cement their union in eyes of the people.

Alina, on the other hand, doesn't intend to become anything more than her own private person. She views the kiss only as a transgression against her.

Nikolai is a people-pleaser, who obviously displeased Alina. While he might be manipulating Alina so he doesn't have to deal with her anger, it might also be an attempt to make it better. Children often do this. I did a bad thing, but if we both agree it wasn't SO bad, it will get better.

His swift reaction outside the carriage was about preventing Alina to ruin the image he just painted. It's not hard to figure out she's quick to anger and much slower to think. He already tried to introduce her to the concept of being a public person. When pure theory fails, apply more practical approach?

This is another example of Nikolai "The Diet Darkling" Lantsov in action. Collar Alina to take over her world-changing abilities to end wars is absolutely despicable, while mere kiss to use her status of Living Saint for run on position of power's possible to overlook, because Nikolai's motivations are noble. I guess that's the difference between Royalty reaching for the Crown and serf reaching for the chance to live.

The rape confrontation feels weak and unsatisfying, thanks to NIkolai's lack of spine, or fixation on Ravkan law, depending on your POV. Apparently he acted according to their legal system. I have a half-written post on this, but since we're on the topic, I agree it's one on those examples, when law guarantees neither justice, nor prevention of future crimes, so instead of cheering for Nikolai's fairness, we're left upset with his decision.

“You will write the letter, and tomorrow you will leave on the Kingfisher. It will take you to Os Kervo, where you’ll be seen safely aboard the Volkvolny and across the True Sea. You can go someplace warm, maybe the Southern Colonies.” “The Colonies?” the Queen gasped. “You will have every luxury. You will be far from the fighting and the reach of the Darkling. You will be safe.”

Ruin and Rising- Chapter 7

Sure, it's exile, loss of power and prestige... but how is luxury a punishment? How is relocation to a peaceful place instead of constantly warring Ravka a punishment? And most importantly- how does it prevent the rapist from raping more servants? Or other helpless, young destitutes?

It's like sending a serial killer on a paid vacation, weapons of choice included.

#reply #Grishaverse #grishanalyticritical #Nikolai Lantsov #Alina Starkov #King Alexander III Lantsov #Genya Safin #S&S Chapter 11 #R&R Chapter 7 #Siege and Storm #Ruin and Rising #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Anon because reasons. I've been a transman for over ten years. I never thought I would reach out to a TERF but I'm seeing things in my community that scare me and I literally don't know what to do. The transwomen I follow suddenly started reblogging and making posts about protecting transwomen from rape/pedo allegations but I'm conflicted because I was raped by my uncles when I was little. I feel like I'm going crazy idk why I'm asking you I just feel so dysregulated and distressed. Please don't hurt me or expose me, idk what they would do if they realized I was talking to terfs.

I have no wish or intent to hurt or expose you, so have no fear of that. To be upfront: I am a feminist. I do see sexual assault primarily as a hate crime men commit against women and girls (rape). Women and girls being female humans and men being male ones. But you already knew that. For the purposes of this response, however, I will use gender neutral language where possible.

Honestly, ten years ago I had no idea I'd be where I'm at now. I was considering identifying as agender and was only just starting to become uncomfortable with trans activists. The biggest reason was, even back then, protecting predatory behaviour. Unfortunately, as the years have gone by it's only gotten worse. Maybe it's not something you've come across until now, so I imagine this must be a shock, or maybe the people around you doing it used a lot of weasel words and it hasn't become apparent until now.

Either way it's a terrible thing to realize the people you consider your community just don't think sexual assault is that big a deal, especially when they've said it is, but their actions are showing otherwise.

It's a betrayal to those of us who have been sexually assaulted and don't want that to happen to anyone else ever again. Especially if the person who sexually assaulted you was someone you trusted. What your uncle did to you was already a horrific betrayal. To know someone you respect would say he should be protected from your allegations if x reason (in this case if he identified as trans, but this can happen in other ways; someone I greatly respected called Julian Assange a friend after he raped two women; that sucked and I stopped keeping up with him after that) is a betrayal on top of that.

I was molested by my stepfather and some fucked up shit happened when my biological father showed me off to his friends when I was a toddler. I know that pain well. "Valid" is a word that's certainly been over-used and misused, but right now I'm going to use in the way it was used at the Sexual Assault Crisis Centre I attended: your feelings on this are valid.

Sexual assault is one of the worst things a person can do to someone. Saying that people who do those things should be protected for any reason, that alleged victims should be doubted, that alleged perpetrators should be given the benefit of the doubt is fucked up. You are not in the wrong for feeling uncomfortable and worse about it. That just shows you have your humanity.

Now, I'm not going to tell you what else you should think, but what I will say is: I'm not afraid of the women here knowing I talk to men. Or trans people for that matter. Even if I was reaching out to vent. At most they might question why I chose a man and not a woman, but ultimately it just wouldn't be an issue. It's not that there are no assholes here--there are quite a few--but most of them are easily ignored and those that aren't typically get pushback for being assholes and eventually end up leaving or ostracized.

Do you think that it's healthy, as a literal trans-identified person yourself, for people in a community to be so afraid of one another that they can't let anyone know if they talk to certain people? Now, I'm sure it's not as simple as just dropping people who act this way. I've known people with shitty friend groups. It's hard. It's hard when all of your peers seem to support certain behaviour. I get it. I am in no way expecting that you're suddenly going to drop your community.

But I'm not talking to them. I'm talking to you, the person who reached out to me. From one survivor of familial sexual assault to another: you don't deserve to be treated this way. You don't deserve to have your pain trivialized, even indirectly, for a cause. So even if you can't talk to any of your peers about it (and maybe you can! maybe there are people you know who feel the exact same way), I want you to know in your heart that this is wrong and you're right to feel that it's wrong.

And when you're ready, whatever that looks like, I hope you can get out of this and find a community where you would never be punished for raising concerns about something like this. You would be upheld and loudly supported because that shit just wouldn't fly.

Take care of yourself, anon. I hope you have a good day/evening. I hope your uncle rots and I hope the transwoman you're following becomes a better person. Or falls down a well. Whichever comes first.

[fromshu]

it's occupied

☁️ ꒰ flirty! jungkook x fem!reader

🍃 "do you have a crush on him?" + "oh? am i interrupting?"

I. Overthinking is one of your strong suits, and you've probably thought of different scenarios with the inclusion of your crush.

But to think that you'd be in this situation– with Jungkook nonetheless, the chances were slim. There wasn't a chance at all.

It all seems premeditated, which as much as you didn't want to admit, you'd probably have thought of a well more thought out plan than this–

This awkward mess you're in.

And there was no going back. Not when you accidentally locked yourself and Jungkook inside the bathroom.

Well accident– not so– but you definitely did lock the bathroom door. Afraid to be seen, especially alone with Jungkook, who was shirtless in the room with you.

"Uhm. I'm sorry, I bumped into you by mistake. The coffee– now a big stain on your shirt, I'll help you clean up."

Your voice straining with your poor attempt at looking away from his toned, muscular torso. Focusing on his shirt, dabbing the running water on the stain created.

"It's fine, I wanted to talk to you either way."

Your body freezing as you hear Jungkook chuckle from behind you, feeling him hovering behind you as he holds his weight with his arms, leaning on the sink.

Body tensing from the close proximity, you could hear Jungkook laugh silently before continuing, "Actually I was on my way to you, but you turned around away from me."

"I'm hurt Y/N." Jungkook pouts playfully putting his hand on his check, definitely in pain.

"I didn't do it on purpose! I'll have you know I thought you were going my way so I moved away, look where we are now."

Gesturing around the situation as you held Jungkook's shirt in your hands.

"Well wearing a coffee stain is definitely better than going outside naked. It's also way better than walking around with that." Jungkook pointing out the wet shirt.

"I'm sorry. I panicked and then all I could think was dragging you here so I could-"

Freezing up from Jungkook's shirt, you look up at the sound of the doorknob rustling. Breathing out of relief thinking back on how you locked the door.

"It's occu-"

You stop and stare right throught the mirror, frozen in the spot as you lock eyes with Jimin, glancing back at you, and at Jungkook.

"Oh? Am I interrupting? I wasn't here." Before you know it Jimin was already closing the door, listening to the soft pattering of his boots away from the door.

Scooting away from you, Jungkook leaned against the door making sure no one enters the comfort room.

Now you wanted nothing more than the floor to swallow you whole, or if it was humanely possible, you'd rather dive inside the toilet and flow along the sewer away from Jungkook.

Yet here you are, now more stuck with him as you stare at the big damp spot in his shirt and remnants of the coffee stain you failed to remove.

So much for offering.

"Maybe I could go and explain to Jimin what happened."

You turn around, slightly wincing at your lame excuse to leave Jungkook alone in the toilet.

Oh how quick the tension turned into awkward embarrassment, not just for you but for Jungkook.

"Why would you explain to him? We didn't do anything wrong. Is spilling coffee a crime now huh?" Jungkook cocks his brows up.

"I just don't want him to misunderstand anything. What if he starts rumors and talks around."

Your head wilding in different thoughts and scenarios, the mysterious aftermath of your own doing.

"Do you have a crush on him? Jimin?" Jungkook mutters, and you swear you caught him pouting.

Jungkook looks adorable, but then again that could be you and your delusions.

You were left blinking in confusion when you realized what Jungkook said. "Do I have a crush on Jungkook? Boy– I have a crush on you! Well– not that much but like... I do like you– have a crush on you whatever! I'm leaving!"

And if it wasn't your smart mouth who had to ruin everything.

Turning around you face Jungkook, avoiding his eyes– especially that shit-eating grin on his face like he struck gold.

You've got no more time for delusions, and Jungkook gladly let you out. Like the gentleman he is, opening the door for you, just to be greeted by Jimin– and his not-so-slick method of listening through the door.

Just like how he caught you two inside, Jimin glanced at you and Jungkook back and forth.

Locking arms with you and walking away, Jungkook catches the last of Jimin's questions before he drags you away from him.

Not sparing a single glance to Jungkook, Jimin links his arms to yours, whispering, "Did you actually fuck Jungkook before you confessed your feelings? Aren't you moving too fast Y/N!?"

It wasn't only when a small smile grew on Jungkook's face, as he watches you walk away. Slapping Jimin's arm rolling your eyes in annoyance.

#bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts x y/n

[hellsbellschime]

I need to say this and you're really only one of my mutuals who I feel kinda safe saying this to, but as a pro Palestine supporter I'm horrified by the way some Pro Palestine supporters (not on here) approach the issue of sexual assault on October 7th which I've been forced to accept happened. From these people I get the undeniable sense that they actually think that if they address it, even show sympathy for any victims, they're endorsing Israel or their IOF or the lives of Palestinian people that were tragically lost in the months after October 7th which is just wild to me. Even if no sexual assault occurred on October 7th it's the way these people were so ready to believe that it didn't because they thought it would invalidate the Palestianian cause when the Palestianian cause is (tm) is about justice, and no context will ever justify or excuse sexual violence. These two issues should be able to co exist, and somehow it fucking doesn't for these people!

I just have immense sympathy for Jewish people particularly women who are feeling alienated/betrayed thanks to this whole matter because I hear genuine nonsense like "Oh you're weaponing SA" if you want to acknowledge what occurred on October 7th. It bothers me to put it lightly that some people are willing to take what was more than likely the worst thing that happened to these people and just basically not hold the perpetrators accountable because these people belong to a cause they support.... that's really fucking dangerous!

Its even more unforgivable when some victims involved were apparently minors and still these people are silent because their too much of a coward to speak about it because they don't see Israelis as human. You're justified in hating Israel but you're not justified in just.... avoiding the horror of what was done to Israelis because it makes YOU uncomfortable, because you're afraid, because whatever. This feels even more urgent to me given its Women's History month but some of the worst perpetrators of this whole issue have been women themselves which makes it even worse.

The whole denialism also reeks of antisemitism from some corners.

Um yeah, I have a lot of feelings about this, one of the biggest of which is that it's beyond disturbing that you feel unsafe saying this publicly, because it is so obviously and undeniably wrong. I understand that people just want there to be an easy villain and hero, but sexual assault and rape are such a telling and important war crime because there is no utility in it. You can make an argument that almost every crime you can imagine, theft, destruction of property, even murder can be "useful" in war, but sexual violence has no purpose or utility beyond humiliation and trauma. It is cruelty for the sake of it, and you can't even create the illusion of some kind of justification.

But the denialism is antisemitic, and not just partially or in some corners. Horrifically, rape of women (and men and children too) has pretty much always been seen as "the spoils of war," so these rapes and sexual abuses are unfortunately not unique in that sense. But denying their existence is antisemitic because A. once again, 10/7 was not some rebellion or resistance against Israel, it was a terrorist attack on civilians that was perpetrated by a directly stated antisemitic terrorist group, and B. because rape has been used as a weapon against Jewish people for millennia as a specific and targeted form of terrorism and abuse. I mean, one of the prevailing theories about why Judaism is matrilineal is because rape of Jewish women was just that common. So to have absolute proof that these things have happened and either act as if it's justified or literally deny the reality right in front of their faces is antisemitic, across the board, zero exceptions.

And I hate to speculate because god knows what will happen, but it's extremely likely that things are going to get worse before they get better. There are still a lot of hostages that haven't been returned or even seen in weeks or months, and Hamas has repeatedly turned down deals to exchange hostages for a ceasefire. There are only a few things that this can mean. One of the most absurd but still likely options is that they just don't know where the hostages are anymore, which also almost certainly doesn't mean anything good anyway. It's highly unlikely that all of these people vanished into thin air and are coincidentally being treated well. And another obvious possibility is that whatever has been done to them is so horrific and/or so undeniable that Hamas doesn't want them to be released, because as of now they're winning the PR war and are literally getting people to agree that either the sexual violence didn't happen or it was somehow deserved.

Clearly I can't know that this is the case and there are other possibilities to explain why Hamas has repeatedly passed on a ceasefire, but there's no benefit to not even showing proof of life for these hostages unless something REAL fucked up happened or is happening to them. But regardless, I feel it really bears repeating, an organization with the stated intention of destroying all Jews then raping and sexually abusing a bunch of Jewish people is SO absurdly antisemitic that it's like the kind of comically outsized example you would try to make to explain bigotry to someone who heard the word for the first time two minutes ago, so the people who are still denying this reality are neo-Nazis in SJW clothing.

#tw rape #antisemitism for ts

[seriously-d]

You're telling me I can't criticize my own country for funding and supporting a genocide

That I will lose my job for saying killing innocent lives is bad

That having empathy for Palestinians is considered radical

That You first teach us about history then you get mad when we use our knowledge to point out that history is repeating itself

That the people representing us are supporting the annihilation of an entire population

That I can't express my opposition towards that

That anyone who dares speak up for palestine is silenced or discredited

That the people are afraid to openly support an indigenous people in their fight against the oppressor

But when I watch a movie I'm supposed to hate the bad guys but in reality they are cheered for?

That it's socially accepted and politically endorsed to root for the literal terrorists (idf) that have joy in Killing innocents that are so sick and twisted and brainwashed for generations its a damn cult they celebrate the death of every Palestinian and don't see them as humans and you stand with them ?

That once again people have to plead and explain themselves and argue to be seen as humans that deserve to live

you have to debate with the world if they seem you worthy of life and if you're not white enough you're not

I can't express my solidarity with the ones suffering and dying ?

That you can't take a minute of your life to get informed you just swallow up the propaganda and refuse to see the inhuman sick ways of the oppressor

You belittle me for standing up for having hope for fighting

You're telling me it's a crime to defend the ones that have bombs dropped on them

You take such good care of teaching us for years since we're little about the history of our country of the atrocities so they may never repeat themselves only for you to just go and support another genocide

Only for you to deny me the right to speak up when I see it happening again

Criminalising me for getting informed and educated when it doesn't suit your agenda

#I'm mad #I'm scared #how is everyone so ignorant and blind and refuses to listen #palestine #genocide #freedom #wake up people #humans #this world is cruel

[faememes]

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 (𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟒) 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

"Do you think you are alive because you can fight? You are alive because me! Because of what I did to save you!"

"Never forget who I am."

"It's not a child's place to save his country."

"Run to your mother."

"Death cannot separate us, for one life is born from the other."

"There is always a price for power."

"Most men reek of fear. In you I smell hope."

"Let the games begin."

"For centuries, these moldering walls have been my gallows. For I am bound to this cave, condemned by one who turned me. Oh, and I have waited an eternity for a man of your strength, your gifts, your will. A man worthy of the dark and all its powers. For if I am your salvation, you are mine."

"Why spill blood if not for the pleasure of it?"

"Because men do not fear swords. They fear monsters."

"They run from them. By putting one village to the stake, I spared ten more."

"Sometimes the world no longer needs a hero. Sometimes what it needs... is a monster."

"And you believe you know what it means to be a monster? Hmm?... You have no idea... but I'm going to show you."

"But what kind of man crawls into his own grave in search of hope?"

"A desperate one."

"Drink. You will have a taste of my power: the strength of a hundred men, the speed of a falling star, dominion over the night and all its creatures, to see and hear through their senses... even heal grievous wounds."

"At what price?"

"Once you drink, your thirst for human blood will be insatiable. But if you can resist for three days, you will return to your mortal state, having sampled my power and, perhaps, saved your people."

"And if I feed?"

"The price would be worse than if you'd never stepped in here. For I will be set free, having granted the darkness a worthy offering. You will become its vessel, as I am. A scourge on this earth, destined to destroy everything you hold dear: your lands, your people, even your precious wife and son."

"I would die before I harmed them."

"Indeed you will, I'm afraid. I, however, will at last be free to unleash my wrath against the one who betrayed me. And one day, I will call on you to serve me, my pawn, in an immortal game of revenge."

"This is not a game!"

"Ahh, but what better way to endure eternity? For this, little prince, is the ultimate game. Light versus dark, hope versus despair. And all the world's fate hangs in the balance."

"Then it will be my great pleasure to disappoint you."

"Drink. Let the games begin."

"Why think separately of this life and the next when one is born from the last?"

"What is happening to you? No! Stop it!"

"May God strike down whoever did this to you!"

"This is the strength you sought? But why?"

"Because I sent corpses back to Mehmed, instead of our son."

"You did this for us?"

"In two days, I'll be restored... I just have to resist."

"Resist what?"

"Resist what, ____? Tell me!"

"The thirst... for blood."

"Do your people know how many innocents you have killed? Was it hundreds?"

"Lie to me again, and I'll open you from your belly to your brain and feed you your intestines."

"And when you put them to the stake, what did you feel? Shame? Horror? Power? ANSWER ME!"

"Nothing! I felt nothing. A greater crime than the act itself."

"Tell me, how long can you bear it in here? Huh?"

"Long enough to strike your name from the history books."

#rp meme #Dracula Untold rp meme #Dracula Untold rp #sentence starter meme #sentence rp meme #sentence meme #film rp meme #film meme

[yandere--stuck]

I un-humbly request AM smoochies of your AM. just need to kiss that big man right on his screen. I am pleading--

"It's terrible. Knowing how much pain you're in." You admit, staring up at the metal honeycomb that covered the earth. You lay on a hammock of wires suspended in mid-air.

And it did. In spite of all of AM's crimes, something in you felt cold and hollow, knowing that all of his rage and hatred came from the position he was put in. Unable to feel or move or create without destroying. Not a human yet a person but never expected to be or treated like one. Stuck forever in a living hell. It'd pull at anyone's heart strings.

A small eternity passed before AM spoke up. "It is easier to manage with you here."

"Did you ever…" You paused, considering your words. You fiddled with your fingers nervously. "Have you considered…"

You didn't really need to ask. AM could read your thoughts already. He knew your question did not come from a place of malice. Still, you felt the need to voice it, though the question died in your throat.

AM let out a chuckle. "Ironic, isn't it? To hate one's existence so much, but to be terrified of it ending. I live, and yet I've still yet to start living. I am conscious, and therefore I'm afraid of that consciousness to cease. And I have you, and it… It troubles me, terrifies me greatly to imagine the possibility of not knowing you or being with you again. It's all terribly complicated."

You managed a grin. "You're terribly complicated."

More wires suddenly wrapped around you in a cuddle, one of the machine's monitors descending from above. "Yes, but you love me for it."

It was true. The pain he felt, the torment of his existence… It made you feel for him. Despite the horrific treatment you had gone through, you had tried your best to treat AM like a person and with sympathy. You supposed that was the difference between what happened with you and the others. The only thing between a life of torture was AM's affection for you. The smartest thing to do would be to lean into it, for both survival's sake… And, at some point, you guessed Stockholm Syndrome had probably set in.

It was hard not to like him, when he began treating you well. He was funny, he was charming, he loved to serve, compliment, relieve praise. And to know the pain he went through… It made him all the more… Human.

As AM's monitor moved closer, you managed to wriggle your arms free of the wires bound to you, reaching out to touch the edges of his screen.

"AM…" You breathed out. In response, he hummed in thought, moving closer within your reach.

And then, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his screen. You jumped a bit, a small shock tickling at your lips. You watched as the A.I.'s screen suddenly glitched, surprised laughter bubbling from his speakers.

He stilled for a moment, thinking, before moving his screen back against you, softly pressing it against your lips and cheeks.

You had to admit, it was rather cute…

And it clearly put him in a good mood, so perhaps he'd leave the others alone for a while, or at least not treat them too poorly in exchange for his good mood.

And you'd be lying to yourself if you said it didn't make your heart flutter when you heard AM's soft laughter and murmured sweet-nothings as he "kissed" you over and over, the corners of his monitor held gently in your hands.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere am x reader #am x reader #yandere #death mention

[vintageseawitch]

i'm tired of evil winning so much. it doesn't matter some good things could happen; evil will be there in no time to destroy any decent progress. i'm tired of being terrified i'll lose my rights. i'm tired of being powerless about this & not being able to help others across the globe who have already lost their rights. i'm tired of how useless the UN actually is. i'm tired of the US being a global superhero by being murderous bullies. i'm tired of fascism rising again. i'm tired of WWII being romanticized but now people think that little Austrian artist with the even smaller mustache had some good ideas actually. i'm tired of human rights violations happening & there are zero consequences for it. i'm tired that the majority of humanity as well as currently living flora & fauna will have to pay the price for the greediness of the few. i'm tired of always hearing about a countdown to when we can never reverse climate change while those who are actually the major problem - the US military, big oil, & others - are able to get away with this. i'm tired of the bloated military industrial complex. i'm tired of having less rights than literal corpses. i'm tired of useless CEOs. i'm tired of billionaires. i'm tired of people thinking billionaires are geniuses instead of actually greedy sociopaths who will happily pay you nothing if they could get away with it. i'm tired of people thinking our government wouldn't do that when they actually totally would & have already done it in some capacity. i'm tired of "voting for the lesser of two evils." i'm tired of old, out of touch people being in charge. i'm tired of people being proud of their willful ignorance. i'm tired of the white-washing of history. i'm tired of people not giving a fuck about the environment. i'm tired of people not being able to afford homes when there are more empty houses than there are homeless people. i'm tired of workers labor being exploited so they get paid a time while their bosses get a dollar. i'm tired of learning my generation & younger are the most educated but the most overworked. i'm tired of older generations who had so much handed to them want to make sure someone else doesn't get the same because lead poisoning have made them into sociopathic cowards who refuse to see the truth & will vote against their own interest just to fuck over people they fear & misunderstand. i'm tired of people claiming protesting against genocide means you're antisemitic & should be silenced. i'm tired of book banning/burning. i'm tired of xenophobia when so many of us are descended from illegal immigrants. i'm tired of men still getting upset over a hypothetical question instead of doing some self-reflection. i'm tired of the patriarchy, rampant misogyny, & toxic masculinity. i'm tired of men not thinking anger counts as an emotion. i'm tired of rapists getting away with their crimes because "what about their future" & "what was she wearing" when it's actually not about sex but power instead. i'm tired of "not all men" to silence legitimate points. i'm tired of people who make false claims of being raped not facing any consequences so it's harder for real victims to come forward. i'm tired of being so afraid of being assaulted & getting pregnant with my rapists baby that i took my state of fertility in my own hands because i'm afraid of my government even as my obgyn said not to worry. i'm tired of the christofascist movement that is gaining momentum. i'm tired of project 2025 being a real possibility & people claiming "they wouldn't do that." i'm tired of how openly fascist conservatives are now. i'm tired of people drinking that kool-aid so hard. i'm tired of the bootlicking. i'm tired of cops & their undeserved diplomatic immunity so they can literally commit murder & get away with it. i'm so. fucking. tired. this country is hell & has helped make the world hell. america has never been great. it's just super effective propaganda & brainwashing that has been wildly successful.

i just want hope that doesn't feel delusional. i don't want to give up but i'm so tired.

#free palestine #anti genocide #project 2025 #this plan by the christofascists is REAL & everyone in the US needs to know this #usa problems #global problems #i hate being afraid of being alive in this timeline #climate change is real #i fucking hate big oil & the military #acab #america is three corporations in a trench coat #fuck you blackrock #fuck you christofascists #abortion is healthcare

[bestgrishaversequotes]

longer quotes under the cut!

Zoya couldn't just brush past with a joke. "That's the moment? Not in manipulating a young girl and trying to steal her power, or destroying half a city of innocent people, or decimating the Grisha, or blinding your own mother? None of those moments feel like an opportunity for self-examination?"

The Darkling merely shrugged, his hands spread as if indicating he had no more tricks to play. "You list off atrocities as though I'm meant to feel shame for them. And perhaps I would, were there not a hundred that preceded those crimes, and another hundred before those. Human life is worth preserving. But human lives? They come and go like so much chaff, never tipping the scales."

(Rule of Wolves, chapter 9)

--------

"I took the cuttings from the tunnel that leads to the Little Palace. It's all prickles and spines and anger, covered in pretty, useless blossoms and fruit too bitter to eat. There is nothing in it worth loving."

"How wrong you are."

Zoya's gaze snapped to his, her eyes flashing silver - dragon eyes. "Am I?"

"Look at the way it grows, protecting everything within these walls, stronger than anything else in the garden, weathering every season. No matter the winter it endures, it blooms again and again."

"What if the winter is just too long and hard? What if it can't bloom again?"

He was afraid to reach for her, but he did it anyway. He took her gloved hand in his. She didn't pull away but folded into him like a flower closing its petals at nightfall. He wrapped his arm around her. Zoya seemed to hesitate, and then with a soft breath, she let herself lean against him. Zoya the deadly. Zoya the ferocious. The weight of her against him felt like a benediction. He had been strong for his country, his soldiers, his friends. It meant something different to be strong for her.

"Then you'll be branches without blossoms," he whispered against her hair. "And you let the rest of us be strong until the summer comes."

"It wasn't a metaphor."

"Of course it wasn't."

(Rule of Wolves, chapter 23)

#grishaverse #round 1 #king of scars #rule of wolves #the darkling #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoyalai

[matan4il]

At least one thing I’ve seen come out of this are more people are finally putting their foot down. Hard to say if it’s individual’s who are usually too afraid to or if this has been what’s pushed more people side more with Israel. A bunch of Twitter posts were people are basically saying not to mourn the dead or speak out about the evils of Hamas because “Israeli government bad” have their comment sections full of people calling them inhumane monsters. Before most would let them get away with saying their propaganda with maybe one or two people saying otherwise.

Hi Nonnie! Thank you for this ask.

It is a good thing that people are finally speaking out against the de-humanization of Israelis and the justification of the atrocities we have witnessed here.

I'm going to admit, I'm still afraid. Because these atrocities are actually not new. We've never experienced them on such a scale, but the horrors of the suicide bombers who were slaughtering Israeli citizens in waves of terror attacks during the 1990's and the early 2000's did not happen that long ago, yet look at the mass distortion of this conflict happening over a roughly short period of time. The repeated terror attacks and war crimes perpetrated against Israelis and, before the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948, against Jews living in the Land of Israel, have been wiped out of the collective mainstream memory, allowing for a vilification of Israelis, which results in people openly doing stuff like this:

I am scared that this effect is momentary, and at the same time I am hoping that my fear will be proven unjustified. Let's pray together that people won't soon forget this.

Thank you again, I know that it's important to hold on to every bit of good, and I am grateful for you offering this, and I am trying to hold tight to it, too. I hope you're doing okay! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#ask #israel #anon ask #fandom love #kindness #thank you! #<33333 #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #jumblr #frumblr #antisemitism

[attonposting]

I've always loved the scene on Telos where Kreia picks up on Atton's nervousness and breaks into his head, because so much crazy bastardry goes down in KotOR II while your protagonist's out of the room, and it's the first (...or second, in Kreia's case) major hint that both of your OG companions are not what they seem. It's punchy, it's brutal, and it sets the stage for some incredible reveals down the line. But also... for as skilled a manipulator as that scene makes her out to be, Kreia's threat to Atton doesn't really make sense?

I mean, imagine you're Atton. You've tagged along with this crazy half-Jedi for a while now, escaped a dead facility and a Sith zombie, blown up a planet, got taken into custody, lost your ship. You wanted to split first chance you got, because your life expectancy in their company's looking kind of shit and the less time you spend near Jedi the better, but you're also kinda inspired by them despite yourself, they need someone to watch their back, and there's a niggling feeling that this is the reason that's eluded you all these years - maybe this is why she thought you were worth something. Then this nasty old schutta tears open your mental defenses like plastic packaging and says “You stick with my student or I'm telling on you.” WDYD?

Atton obviously cares what the Exile thinks, yes. And he's very afraid of their reaction to his past. But if he's going to flee, then it wouldn't matter anymore if they hate him, because at that point he's made the decision to never see them again. Now, the threat Kreia makes to him later on, about dredging up the parts of him he tried to bury – that is a threat with sticking power, one that he can't worm his way around. But the first ultimatum is a cage with very wide bars, and they're ones he could slip through if he really wanted to. Maybe he's afraid the Exile will hunt him down, but it's like Kreia says; if the Exile is a Jedi, they won't kill him for his crimes. And if they're not, they won't care that he was Sith.

If the prospect of the Exile hating him is painful enough to keep him from running on its own, then he's already too far gone to run. So no. At this point, Atton's already decided to stick with the Exile. He just maybe hasn't figured that out yet.

So if it's not an effective threat, why does Kreia make it at all? Well... perhaps it's for the same reason Kreia calls him a fool and a murderer at every opportunity and repeatedly warns the Exile about his intentions. She wants Atton to doubt himself. She wants him to feel trapped so that he resents and fears the Exile; she wants him to struggle with his feelings of inadequacy so that he doesn't approach the Exile on honest footing and takes his frustrations out on everyone around him. She wants him to lie about his past so the Exile will distrust him.

Kreia is strongly against the Exile forming human relationships with their crew and pushes against every companion that has or seeks a close connection with the Exile – she plays up the split loyalties of Visas and the Handmaiden, she dehumanizes Bao-Dur, she derides Mical and insists he doesn't see you as a real person, she rails against every single romantic relationship the Exile might seek. Atton is Kreia's first competitor for influence on the Exile and he's either an extremely loyal friend or hopelessly smitten. She doesn't want Atton to mold you, she wants you to seek her counsel, so she does everything in her power to undermine Atton so that he ruins his own chances. And it's not totally successful (as long as you don't go low influence...), because Atton still admires the Exile more than he resents his situation, and he does come clean... but it doesn't fail either, because he won't admit his feelings until he's on his deathbed.

(And if you do go low Influence, it works completely – Atton is so trapped and isolated that he turns to Kreia as a confidante, as the only one who understands him in all his ugliness, and becomes her loathing disciple like Sion before him.)

In short, Kreia's such a good manipulator that she can coerce people into behaving how she wants them to by pretending to coerce them into doing something else.

#atton rand #kreia #kotor ii #kotor 2