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#and i've BARELY committed any crimes

queer-geordie-nerd · 6 months

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I am nearly 40 years old and I've considered myself a leftist politically since I was old enough to form my own opinions. Have I always been a shining moral example? Definitely not - there have absolutely been times when I've had unexamined prejudices and been called out on them. It's deeply uncomfortable having to examine your own prejudices and to be told that you're wrong, and I get the instinct to push back.

But never in my entire life have I seen as much doubling down and ignoring of minority voices and as much mask off bigotry as I have seen this last month in reaction to Jews telling pro Palestine activists that a lot of what they're doing is blatant antisemitism and actively harmful to their community.

Absolutely, advocate and uplift Palestinian voices and draw attention to what is happening, because what is happening is utterly appalling.

But when you happily parrot genocidal slogans like 'From the River to the Sea' while totally ignoring anyone's attempts to tell you why that is so hideously problematic, when you unironically call for the total eradication of the only Jewish nation state on earth in a way that you never ever do for other nations whose governments have committed similar or worse crimes, when you happily chant shit like "Death to Zionist pigs" without the first clue what that word actually means (hint: it's not shorthand for 'evil barely humans who want all Palestinians dead' and it's incredibly disgusting to use it that way. Zionists believe in the Jewish right to return to and live on their ancestral homeland. That's it. That's all) then don't think for one solitary minute you possess any kind of moral high ground.

And when leftists who usually loudly proclaim the right of indigenous peoples to return to their land have the audacity to turn around and say to Jews "not you though - actually you're terrible and evil for even wanting such a thing. Never mind that the rest of the world has engaged in your wholesale dehumanisation and slaughter for thousands of years, your desire for your homeland is the bad thing actually" what is that hypocrisy but blatant antisemitism? Please, enlighten me.

When a Jewish person tells you are peddling in antisemitism, just shut the fuck up and listen.

A caveat to this is that I am not Jewish, I don't know any Jewish people IRL, none of this impacts me personally. But I am a human being, and will not and cannot stay silent about the hypocrisy and outright dehumanisation of other human beings by people who cannot for the life of them either open a history book or take the time to actually listen to the people this impacts and instead just perform their self righteous little dance.

#antisemitism

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melodyidk · 1 month

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Salvation for the damned

Priest!Sanji x fem!Reader smut

Minors, do not interact!!!

Author's note: This is my first smut, go easy on me. I'm not used to actually posting what I write. Ever since I saw @hunnismokah 's fanart of Sanji as a priest I haven't had a WINK of sleep. She has unleashed something feral into the world.

Warning: if you're uncomfortable with themes of religion, I'll advise you to scroll away.

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"What is troubling you, my child?"

Sanji fancied himself a man of God. From a young age, he knew his role in life was to serve The All Mighty and help lost souls find the right path again.

He gave an Oath, and swore his body, mind and soul to The Lord, in promise to never stray from the path of light. And Sanji was a man of his word. Hence why he was sure you were sent by the Judge Of All, to test his strength and devotion.

Oh, you were the most angelic being he had ever laid eyes upon. Or at least so he thought, because, in truth, he saw you as a temptation crafted by The Devil specifically to torture him. And as much as he prayed and kneeled before God, begging for expiation, you wouldn't leave. As hard as he cried out to the heavens for a chance to atone, his screams were never heard.

You would always creep into his dreams, where he was most vulnerable, and force him into sin. You were a foul succubus, the daughter of Satan, and you have come to ensure his fall.

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"Father, I must atone for these terrible sins I've committed against the Holy One."

He hadn't expected you to turn up so late, looking deeply troubled near the Church's entrance. He let you in without a second thought, and as soon as you reached the altar, you dropped down to your knees, your hands clasped together, looking up at him in desperation.

His face softened and he smiled ever so slightly. He was glad you finally decided to turn yourself over to The Light. Sanji lifted his hand over your head and spoke with firmness in his voice.

"Speak now child, lay yourself bare before The Lord and share your troubles. Pray that He may forgive you."

He felt closest to God during confessions. It was as if The All Mighty spoke through him, accepting the wrongs of those before him into his heart and engulfing them in pure holy light.

"I've been plagued by impure thoughts, Father. The sin of Lust and Desire has claimed me and shackled me in its repulsive hold and I have become its slave."

Through the silence, a shaky breath was all that could be heard. Sanji felt his body shudder and pool in a cold sweat, a chill running down his spine. His knees were so weak he thought he might keel over any moment now, had he not been holding Saint Patrick's Cross so tightly in his other hand.

Taking a deep breath in through his nose, Sanji composed himself. Right now, he had to help this poor woman redeem herself before The Lord.

"Very good, my child. The first step to redemption is seeking out the forgiveness of God. Stand."

You did as you were told immediately, without asking a single question. Good. The expectant look in your eyes could melt the resolve of the most cold-hearted man, had you only wished to do so.

"For your heinous crimes, you shall face punishment, and you shall suffer, and you shall be freed. Now, are you ready to carry out God's task?"

Oh, that spark in your eyes. He could almost feel the devotion radiate off your body into zaps of energy. Almost. "I am ready, Father. I swear that I will do whatever it is The Lord asks of me."

Before you even finished speaking, he had already turned around and instructed you to follow him.

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Not before long, you found yourself in his private quarters. Just as you were about to question why, he called out to you, and you answered. Sanji was sat at the edge of his bed, looking up at you with a gentle smile adorning his face.

"Kneel, child."

You sank back to your knees, reaching out with your hands and hesitantly placing them atop his own, all while looking at him. He extended his hand to you and gently cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

Breath caught in your throat, you dared not utter a word, lest all kinds of sinful thoughts escape through, in-between your teeth.

"Do you know what you must do?" You could feel his thumb brush across your plush lips and pull the bottom one down.

"Yes, Father."

Sanji felt your hands drag up his thighs and settle on the zipper of his pants. He held back a groan at the feeling of your hands on him, inhaling sharply once you pulled his cock out and sat up on your knees to press a featherlight kiss to the tip.

You licked your lips and pressed one more kiss to it before wrapping them around the head, sucking lightly. He let out a gasp and shut his eyes, basking in the way your perfect lips wrapped so well around the head of his dick. Sanji felt you pull away and opened his eyes only to see you spit on his cock and wrap a hand around to stroke him. Your palm so soft and gentle, your pace slow and sensual, easing him into the feeling of your skin pressed to his. He was trying so hard not to let out soft moans of pleasure as you touched him, your skin igniting a spark in him that ate away at his soul deliciously so.

He could feel sin seep through his skin and into his heart, pulling him away from all that he deemed right, enticing him to beg for more. But he couldn't allow it, couldn't allow to lose himself to such carnal desires.

His resolve, however, faltered the second you took him into your mouth again. Enveloping his cock in its warmth and continuing to stroke whatever you failed to fit with your hand. Sanji let out a whine, and pressed his palm to the back of your head, keeping you in place. You had long since closed your eyes, basking in the feeling of him filling up your mouth, making you imagine what it would feel like for him to bury himself deep inside you and claim you as his.

Oh, you've dreamed of him for so long. You knew it was wrong to want a man of God, selfish, to wish he'd devote himself to you instead. You'd stay awake at night, desperately pumping your fingers to feel even the slightest relief, but your body knew what it wanted. And it wanted it badly.

Whatever you did, you couldn't satisfy your hunger for the man, and tonight, after hopelessly trying to chaise you high for hours and failing miserably, you decided enough was enough. You had to have him.

Snapping back into the present, you moved your tongue against him, hearing him let out yet another sinful cry, tears threatening to spill over his eyes. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing. Sanji tugged on your hair, and a moan escaped your throat, making him mewl in ecstasy.

He could feel a knot begin to form, like a balloon ready to burst, so he pushed you away, panting.

You looked up at him, confused. Had he not enjoyed himself? Did he perhaps change his mind? Maybe he finally realised how wretched you were.

"Come, sit." You wasted no time in hastily removing your bottoms and straddling his lap. Sanji placed both his hands on your hips, pressing gentle kisses to your neck and collarbone. A sigh left his lips when he felt your fingers swiftly undoing his ponytail and running your fingers through his long, golden locks of hair.

You aligned yourself up with his cock and sank, taking him in inch by delicious inch, filling yourself. Once you finally fit him all inside, a breath of relief left you.

He was still pressed closely to your chest, holding you tightly and squeezing your hips as if you'd disappear should he let go. And his grip became tighter once you started moving. Sanji felt like he'd lose his mind by how tight, wet and warm your walls were, pulsating and squeezing around him and greedily sucking him in.

"Father...please." Your voice was so weak as if the wind was knocked out of you, leaving you gasping and craving for more. He groaned and tried to meet your hips with his, thrusting up into your cunt in chase of the pleasure engulfing him whole.

"Fuck, you feel so good my sweet." He was quickly losing himself in you. Breathing in your scent and feeling it fill up his lungs, it was almost as if his mind was spiralling into insanity.

"Call me by my name...Let me hear you say it." You could barely register what he was asking of you, too drunk on the feeling of the man you've been craving for so long finally giving you what you've been wanting.

"Sanji, please don't stop." A shameless whine interrupted you. You couldn't form coherent thoughts anymore. All you could think about was him and how good he was making you feel.

He just kissed your forehead and began fucking into you harder, hitting that special spot deep inside you every time. He knew you were close by the way you tightened so much around him, it was evident.

"I know darling, 'm close too. Fuck- Been dreaming about this pussy for months. Been dreaming of filling it up to the brim with my cum. Is that what you want love? For me to paint your insides white?"

All you could do was throw your head back and moan like an animal in heat, desperately moving your hips to chase that high.

"Use your words, sweetness. Tell me you want it." He didn't falter in his movements, keeping up the brutal pace and abusing your cunt, set on hearing you.

You locked your eyes with his, barely able to keep them open. "Want your cum Sanji, please give it to me. Want you to fill me up." He groaned, hearing you barely get out the words, too focused on the pleasure he was giving you.

"Since you asked so nicely, you better take it all." You could feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as you tipped over the edge, his words alone making you lose your mind. You moaned out his name again and again, like a prayer and he felt that knot finally snap.

With a final thrust of his hips, Sanji came, spilling deep inside you, painting your walls white. You felt your insides warm up as you milked him of every last drop until he was spent.

With both of you panting, he gripped your face with one hand to make you face him again and asked. "What do you say now?"

"Thank you, Father."

#18+ mdni #priest sanji #priest sanji x reader #priest kink #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece sanji #one piece sanji x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x you #black leg sanji #sanji smut #sanji x reader smut #letting the voices win #awooga #deranged melody hours #idk what im doin lol #what is this

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toshidou · 1 year

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woe to the deer who is courted by the wolf . . .

pairing // könig x f!reader

word count // 7.2k

tags // 18+ ONLY, afab reader, vampire!könig, predator/prey kink, mentions of blood and injury, minor elements of horror (very minor), slightly misunderstood lonely vampire könig, unprotected sex, stomach bulge, rough sex, creampie, biting, blood sucking, blood play

an // after battling with writers block for over a month, who would have thought it'd take a blood sucking giant to free me from the shackles of having no inspiration? anyway this is the most i've ever written in one day, which is only slightly concerning. bone apple teeth!

thank you to @erosology for beta reading this, and forever being my number one hype man ;-;

Pale moonlight peaks through a frame of eerily still clouds, reflecting off the polished black steel planted in the ground at your feet. You can hear the whispers of your friends behind you, a little too old to be snickering and giggling behind the palms of their hands, although you’re entirely too old to have taken their bet in the first place.

It started off as a simple reunion between old friends, a short trek into once familiar woods to the spot you used to set up base for the night, roasting marshmallows over a concerningly large campfire, sharing cliche horror stories whilst swaddled in blankets. This very night had gone about the same, until someone brought up the old manor. An imposing house that watches over the village that surrounds it, well kept and suspiciously pristine, withstanding the tests of time despite the fact that not a single soul has ever been seen to enter or leave the premises.

It had been a longstanding dare, an easy way to get someone to down their drink, ‘I dare you to jump the fence and knock on the door’. No one has ever been stupid enough to go through with it, a couple tried, but got as far as the black iron that surrounds the perimeter before they gave up. And yet, here you stand, too many years later, an individual who should be both older and wiser than to commit several crimes for the sake of a stupid bet and childish curiosity, staring at that very same railing.

You can hardly hear the whispered words of your friends from where they cower behind you, your eyes transfixed on the looming building that seemingly stares back at you from where you remain fixed at the bottom of the hill. Mahogany brick unblemished, barely touched by weather, towers three stories high, trimmed ivy crawling up the walls as though attempting to reach out to the moon that watches over it. Each window is blocked by scarlet wooden shutters, an old-fashioned touch for a house surrounded by new builds; looking at it now feels like taking several steps back in time.

Not a single spec of light leaks through any crack in the shutters, each room bathed in darkness, the same way it always has. Surely, you think to yourself, surely no one can possibly be in there. Your theory has always been that the house is long since abandoned, its previous owner having died, looked after by a previously employed caretaker who hated to watch a building they loved go into disrepair. And although that doesn’t explain the suspicious lack of activity, it’s the only sane thought that you repeat to yourself as your fingers curl around sturdy black bars, and you begin to haul yourself over the iron fence.

A moment later, and the dull thud of your feet hitting neatly trimmed grass breaks tense silence, your eyes meeting with several widened pairs through steel bars. It’s the furthest anyone’s gotten, and even now, you feel like you’ve gone far enough. It’s certainly not too late to change your mind, to do the sensible thing and throw yourself back into safety, and just as you’re contemplating backing out of the bet, you feel the hairs on your nape stand on end, a chill down your spine so sharp it causes a physical flinch. When you turn around, you’re met with the very same house, not a shutter or brick out of place, yet something, somehow, feels different.

It’s like a siren call, luring you from the safety of your friends that remain frozen on the other side, hardly breathing as though they daren’t make a sound, apprehensive eyes focused on your shadowed form as you slowly make your way up the hill. It’s more daunting up close, no longer a silhouette against a twilight sky, now you can see details the distance has never gifted you, the way the wood shutters that plaster the windows are carved with swirls and intricate patterns, how the ivy hides bloomed flowers amongst pointed leaves, speckles of pink and purple that ease the tension that coils your muscles, only bolstering timid curiosity. And now you’re standing within feet of the house, you’re left in awe by the sheer size of it. It never seemed particularly small, not even from the gate, but the front door alone has you gulping down nothing but frigid air. You take a few tentative steps, eyes raking over the magnificent details carved into thick black oak, the centrepiece that catches your gaze being the solid gold knocker that sits just above your head, halfway up the door.

Two hollow eyes stare back at you, a skull with two rams horns that curl from golden bone, and between its bared teeth lies a ring that rests against ebony wood. It stands out from every other detail of the house, a spine-tingling reminder of where you stand, echoes of the myths that surround this house whispered by your trembling conscience, and yet shaking fingers reach for the ring, curling around cooled metal before lifting it, preparing to knock.

But you never get the chance, because in true horror movie fashion, you’re met with the slow creak of old hinges as the very door you stand before begins to open, and in the void of black it reveals, you swear you see two pinpricks of red that greet you in the darkness. Your entire body goes stiff, still clinging on to the gold loop of the knocker as though it’ll somehow ground you, yet it does nothing to chase away the overwhelming sense of impending doom that screams at you to turn, to run, to get as far away from this wretched place as your legs can take you.

You turn just in time to hear the worried calls of your friends before the door is yanked wide open, dragging you over the edge of the premises with it and sending you careening onto the floor, sliding against wood and scrambling up only to watch that very same door slam in your face.

Frozen. Every single part of you remains stock still as you try to adjust to the darkness. Not even the moonlight dares follow you inside, leaving you alone to dart your eyes in the pitch black, searching for some semblance of light you can latch onto. Yet the house offers you nothing, and you can’t help but see red dots every time you dare close your eyes. In the moment of still you’ve been given, your brain reels as it tries to think of a logical explanation for the door seemingly dragging you into the house with no human in sight to operate it, and in your panic, you can’t help but pray that you’ve fallen asleep by the campfire, and this is all an elaborate nightmare you’ll be able to laugh about when you awake.

A creak from behind you sends you hurtling back into reality, a sure reminder that this is no nightmare, not one you can wake up from, at least. Your head whips to the side, terror freezing your muscles solid as you lock onto crimson orbs once again, so bright they can be seen even with the absence of light to reflect off them, your blood curdling in your veins as they remain fixed on you, unblinking. You scurry backwards, the sound of your back slamming against the solid wall behind you echoing through the dark, fingers curling against peeling wallpaper in a last-ditch attempt to find the door handle.

Your pathetic scrabbling is interrupted by the harsh sound of a match striking against rough material, your eyes drawn to the responding flame it produces, but moreso, the large fingers that dwarf the stick they clutch.

“What a curious thing you are.”

Each syllable rumbles through very walls, practically shakes the structure of the house, a low timber steeped with an accent you can’t quite place, but certainly isn’t local. You daren’t breathe, let alone move, not even when the ground creaks and shakes with every purposeful, creeping step the stranger takes towards you. The flame grows as the match is brought to a wick, the flame whittling away the wood until all that remains is twisted charcoal, before transferring to the candle, the dying fire roaring back to life, casting a flickering golden glow onto the one holding it.

You’re met once again with red, but now you can see bleached tear tracks running from shoddy holes cut into black cloth, a mask fit for the monster that wears it, and as they stalk ever closer, you belatedly wonder how they’re going to navigate the stairs that must separate the two of you, certain that even someone familiar with a house must need more light in order to not fall. But they never begin their descent, and it’s only when the flame lies mere feet from you, yet so far out of your reach, you realise there are no steps. You’re face to face with a giant.

Adrenaline douses you like a torrent of water, your widened eyes alert and stricken with obvious fear, yet you didn’t expect the gentle touch that encircles your wrist, lungs sucking in a stuttered breath as you stare into the hollow red of its eyes. Large fingers draw your arm upwards, moving your frozen limb with ease, until it’s stretched far above your head, your fingers bumping against the smooth wax of the candle the giant passes off to you. Your brain scrambles for words, screams against the shackles of your fear-addled mind, waiting to release a slew of incoherent pleas for your freedom, yet your lips remain firmly sealed.

You feel a weight in your trouser pocket, eyes darting down to see his fingers pushing a box of matches into the gap of the material, only for your gaze to snap back to him as he hunches down, the material of his mask flowing down as his torso towers over you. You’re left caged against the wall, nowhere to run as his face levels next to your ear. It’s silent for a few horrific seconds, until that same spine-chilling voice purrs one single word.

“Run.”

It’s as though all your body needed was the instruction, responding immediately as you tear away from him, feet slapping against hardwood flooring as you careen towards what vaguely resembles an entrance way. The flame flickers dangerously, threatening to leave you in the dark once again, your fingers curling around the candle, whispering prayers that it doesn’t snuff out, that it doesn't leave you alone with whatever stalks you in the pitch black.

You don’t stop running until you reach a hallway, sprinting down the claustrophobic corridor until you finally reach an open door, rushing inside and pushing hefty wood until it clicks in place, sealing you within, safe for now. You hold up the candle to illuminate more of the room, watching as the soft glow bounces off a glinting gold frame and painstaking strokes of oil paint. An obscenely large portrait hangs on the wall in front of you, the image of a handsome man draped in fine purple robes, shoulder length brown hair pushed back with a crown of golden leaves. He sits in a chair, grand and crimson, lined with bronze, legs spread over the expensive velvet, one large hand curled over his thigh, the other propping his head up, his elbow resting against the arm of the chair in a way that can only be described as unbothered, and unamused. But the thing that has you utterly transfixed are the two red irises that stare right back at you, playful and taunting, and hauntingly familiar.

Surely this isn’t the man under the hood, the one who dragged you into his house and watched you scramble out of his grip the second he told you to flee. Because why would a man so handsome hide his face? Why would someone who looks so young own a house that has stood at the centre of your small village for far longer than you’ve been alive? Nothing seems to make sense, not a single aspect of the past 10 minutes feels real, and you can only hope your friends saw what happened and ran to get help, because you’re not sure there’s a way for you to conquer this man alone. It’s as you’re floundering for answers that you hear a noise from outside the room, instincts taking over as you quickly hide under a small dining table and blow out the candle, praying you haven’t given yourself away.

You’re not entirely stupid, you know the meaning of red eyes, and although you could attempt to soothe your psyche with whispered lies about contact lenses and make believe, you know better. The thing that chases you is no man, and certainly isn’t human, at least not anymore. And as terrified as you are, there isn’t a chance in hell you’re about to let yourself become this monster’s dinner.

You sit in the darkness, clutching the smouldering candle to your chest, and wait. Ears alert as you listen for the slightest sound that might give away your hunter, a breath, a sigh, a scratch, you do little more than hope that your hiding spot remains occupied by you, and you alone.

After a tense few minutes, picking up on no other sounds than the thrumming of your own heart, your fingers slowly make their way to your pocket, gingerly plucking the box out and pushing the case off. Despite the lack of light, and the trembling that consumes your body, you manage to fish out a match, and strike it, holding the newly lit flame to the wick of the candle.

Bleached tears. Red eyes. Large fingers. Looming body.

“Boo.”

The scream rips from your throat before your brain can catch up, the candle abandoned as it’s flung towards him in a last ditch attempt to throw him off, knees and hands protesting as they’re dragged along grooved wood, leaving grazes in their wake. The momentary pain isn’t enough to stop you, however, lungs heaving as you tear out of the room, clumsily bumping into walls and ornaments, impeded by the dark, motivated by sheer determination to live.

Your decision to toss away the candle comes to bite you firmly in the ass the second you find yourself tumbling down a set of stairs, and in a move of sheer instinct your hands attempt to slow your fall, only for the skin of your palm to get caught on a loose nail, slicing the flesh and leaving you wailing as your body finally slows to a stop against the cold stone floor you now find yourself lying on. Every bone in your body hurts, aches, but is overshadowed by the sharp sear of white hot pain as you cradle your torn skin to your chest, warm rivulets of blood oozing down your wrist, tracking rivers of red down your forearm until you hear the steady drip, drip, drip of your blood hitting stone.

A light appears above you, a halo of pastel yellow emanating around black cloth, and within a second, the fight leaves you, slumping further into the floor as you accept your death, hoping none of your friends were stupid enough to follow you only to meet the same pitiful fate.

“Please,” You mumble, voice finally found, entirely too late, “Just make it quick.” You hear little other than a hushed chuckle in response, a cat toying with its food.

“I imagine it looks worse than it is, kleine maus.”

You pause at that, curiosity ebbing through once more. You may not have paid enough attention to languages at school, but even in your state, you know enough to recognise those words.

“You’re German?” You mumble, fear forgotten in your shock-ridden state. The man shakes his head as he crouches next to you, extending his free hand towards the injured one you have secured to your torso, tittering again as you flinch. But you have little other choice than to let him pry your hand away, watching with wary eyes as he examines your sliced skin. He holds the candle closer to the wound, a soft tut passing his lips before he holds the candle towards you, urging you to take it with a gentle nod.

“Austrian. But close.”

It all feels strange, foreign, as though you’re being lulled into a false sense of security just so he can tell you to run once again, laughing maniacally as he watches you bleed over his floor. The fear returns once you have the candle securely in your grip, eyes locked on the way his fingers curl around the material that hides his face, and begin to remove it. Inches of once cloaked skin is revealed, a defined chin melts away to pursed lips, a smattering of dark facial hair that frames his mouth and curls up his jaw, the material pulled further only to reveal a hooked nose, and two narrowed eyes that reflect the candlelight in a way not dissimilar to precious gems, rich and vibrant. Maybe it’s the shock, or limited blood loss, but you can’t help but marvel at just how pretty he is.

Of course, it doesn’t last much longer, not when survival instincts kick in, the realisation that your bloodied hand is now near the mouth of a creature that lives entirely off the thing that keeps you alive. But the grip on your wrist is ironclad, strong yet not uncomfortably so, a strange juxtaposition between monster and man as he cocks his head at your wound. With a nod, seemingly more to himself than you, you can do little more than cry out as you’re hauled over his shoulder, his arm secured tightly around your waist, the hood forgotten in a small puddle of your blood on the stone flags.

It’s mere minutes later that he places you down on soft sheets, your body sinking into a plush mattress, left to watch him as he ambles around the egregiously large room, muttering foreign words under his breath as he roots through an ornate chest of draws. You must be in a fever dream, unsure how you went from running for your life, to being patched up by the very thing you were certain would kill you. And yet, here you are, watching as he almost awkwardly sidles to your seated figure, and kneels in front of you, once predatory eyes unable to hold your gaze as he sets out various medical items by your feet.

“Your hand, may I see it?”

You present your palm to him, watching as his eyebrows knit together, giant hands placing tentative touches against your skin as though he’s concerned about hurting you, the thought of which does nothing to aid your spiralling confusion. But you say nothing, you simply watch as he takes a damp cloth and begins cleaning your cut, fixated on the way his eyes snap to you with every pained hiss and suppressed whine, picking up on the way he ensures each subsequent touch is a tad gentler than the last. It’s not too much longer until he’s wrapping your hand with bandages, making sure the gauze is tight enough to keep your blood in, but not enough to cut off circulation, the type of gentle care you never would have suspected from the giant at your feet. Your curiosity has increased tenfold, not a trace of fear left to lick at your nerves and render you speechless, replaced only by the overwhelming need to know more, to learn everything.

“What’s your name?”

It’s his turn to freeze, ruby irises briefly flitting to yours, rounded with surprise, before they snap back down, making himself busy as he gathers up a scattered array of bloodied cloth.

“I… I have had many. The one most people knew me by was König.” It’s strange, the croon of his voice sounds almost nothing like the one whispered to you in the dark, from low and horrifying, to gentle, almost timid. You’re nothing short of fascinated, leaning forward as you scan over the contours of his face.

“Why’d you drag me into your house and tell me to run?”

“Why were you trying to knock on my door?”

Touché.

Heat licks at the skin of your cheeks at his brazen reminder of your attempted trespassing, your uninjured hand coming to rub at your neck in lieu of a response. After a moment of silence, he sighs, deflating into the plush carpet below.

“It has been a while since I last had any visitors. Your arrival was… Unexpected. You caught me off guard,” He pauses for a moment, pupils dilating as his fingers curl around the rags he holds in his hand, covered in your blood, “It has been even longer since I have been around fresh blood.” It feels surreal to have it confirmed, that the creature that sits before you is one you’ve seen only in movies and read in far-fetched romance novels. Yet, you feel no fear, that emotion all but vanished the second he halted everything just to care for an intruder's wound.

“My friends dared me to knock.” He cocks his head at that, a single eyebrow arching, bemused at your admission. “It’s been a dare for years, no one ever actually had the guts to do it.”

“Until you.”

A pause, your head dipping forward in an unsure nod.

“Until me.”

He’s staring at you unabashedly now, your eyes wandering over the rich details of the bedroom you reside in as an excuse to save yourself from his piercing gaze, an unreadable expression swimming in carmine eyes.

“I am glad it was you.”

You hate the embers of arousal that spark at his words, perturbed by your body’s reaction to seemingly innocent words spoken from a man you were sprinting away from less than an hour ago, and yet his eyes do nothing to put out the fire, intense and smouldering. You can’t bring yourself to look away, nor to quash the way your heart flutters as his torso leans closer to your thighs that subconsciously part to make room for him. The action doesn’t go unnoticed, nostrils flaring as sharp eyes zero in on the way your legs spread against silk sheets.

“And why is that, König?”

It’s as though you uttering his name opens the floodgates, black engulfing vermillion until only a sliver remains, thick fingers circling your shins as he leers further into the gap your parted thighs created, that same ravening stare that once sent fear trickling down your spine now leaves you gasping for breath for an entirely different reason.

“Because I haven’t seen something as pretty as you for a very long time, and I don’t know if I have the strength to stop myself again, maus.”

You couldn’t prevent the whispered whine of his name if you had tried, eyelashes fluttering as you move to curl your fingers in his shirt, giving pathetic little tugs to the soft material of his silk shirt, eyes dipping down to where loose material tucks into black pants. Your back arches, a shameless display of desire as you slide your body closer towards the edge of the bed, and further into his touch.

“Who said anything about stopping?”

Your words remain suspended in the air around you, two sets eyes locked onto each other, blown black with barely-suppressed lust, and yet you don’t dare to make the first move, waiting, wanting for him to shed his timid skin and swallow you whole, become the beast that stalked you through rooms just to feel the thrill of the chase. His hands leave your legs, instead balling up into tight fists against his own thighs, the skin around his knuckles taut as though restraining himself. For a mere moment, you fear he may have changed his mind, that is until he utters the word you craved to hear.

“Run.”

You ignore the lingering ache in your joints, your thighs burning as you dash from the bedroom with renewed purpose, fuelled by the all-consuming thoughts of what’s to come, excited to finally be caught, a far cry from the unbridled terror that sent you scrambling before. This time, he makes no effort to prowl in the shadows, your heart beat soaring as the loud thuds of footsteps echo from behind, the floorboards quaking under your feet from the force of his steps.

You know there isn’t a chance he’s running at full speed, but even then he catches you almost embarrassingly quickly, built arms encircling your waist and crushing you against his torso, bringing you to the floor in an instant, leaving you to writhe helplessly between his body and the floorboards. You don’t give in, however, limbs thrashing, nails clawing against whatever they can reach, whether it be the arms that pin you down, or the wood underneath you, feigning an attempt to escape.

That is until you feel two sharp points dig into your nape, not enough to break skin, but the threat of it leaves you frozen under him, a doe caught in the wolf’s jaws. But you don’t fear the bite like wild prey would, somehow, you crave it, to feel his teeth sink into you, to let him lap at your blood and drain you near dry, anything just to feel like you’re his.

The pressure of sharpened canines begins to lessen, his teeth slowly peeling back from your skin, although anticipating your body to begin thrashing once again. But you remain subdued, the embers now engulfed by crackling flames that lick at your nerves and set your skin alight. It’s only when his hips shift do you feel the tent in his pants pushing against the top of your thighs, your eyes fluttering shut as you push your ass down to grind shamelessly against his cock.

“Temptress,” The word is almost incomprehensible through the growl that reverberates through his throat, a sound that gives away entirely how affected he is, rough and wanting. “You should be trembling beneath me from fear and yet…”

His words trail off, a stuttered gasp replaces your heavy breathing when you feel sizeable fingers trailing down your sides before sliding under your body, cupping your inner thigh. Your heart hammers against your ribcage from the chase, now bolstered by the scandalous touch as his fingers skim past your clothed core, only catching onto the way his fingers curl into the material until it’s too late, hardly leaving you enough time to yelp before he’s tearing you bare below him. The tattered remains of your pants are haphazardly discarded, joined soon by the threadbare silk of your ripped panties, one of your favourite pairs torn in half with hardly an ounce of effort.

“Yet here you are, schätzchen, quivering with need, dripping for the cock of the one that hunts you.”

The rough pad of calloused fingers swipes against your exposed cunt, unable to suppress the heady whine that leaks past your agape lips, your forehead meeting the hardwood floor with a soft thump. That single touch renders you limp, muscles going lax as you melt into the glide of his fingers as they tease your folds, slowing on every up-stroke to rub slow circles against your clit. It’s maddening, the pace in which he picks you apart, leaving you to grind on his fingers like a wanton whore just to feel the surmounting pleasure that builds in response to his touch. A tut sounds from above, heavy breath cascading over your nape as his head dips down, lips dragging from neck to the shell of your ear.

“What a desperate little thing you are, maus, you know what we call things like you in my native tongue?” Your head shakes, a breathy ‘no’ muffled into the floor, “Schwanzschlampe, cock slut.” Embarrassment mixes in equal measure with arousal, curling one of your arms under your head to hide your face, the action short lived as strong arms flip you onto your back, one large hand gathering both your wrists together and pinning them above your head, exposed before him in every way. It’s undeniably more intimate in this position, your eyes given little other option than to lock onto his as his other hand continues to tease your dripping cunt, carmine swimming with unrestrained desire pinning you to the floor as effectively as his near crushing grip on your wrists.

“You can’t hide your pretty face from me, liebling, I want to see how much you crave my touch.” He presses his forehead to yours, low candlelight from lamps that line the corridor walls glint off the two long fangs that peak past reddened lips with every word spoken. And it’s seemingly your turn to catch him off guard, your head tilting upwards to push your lips to his, swallowing his surprised gasp down greedily, arching your chest to push against his. The kiss is desperate, messy, a combination of saliva drips down your chin, moans and rumbled grunts creating a symphony that drifts down the winding halls of his home. With a nudge, you ensure his eyes are locked to yours as you part your lips, your tongue curling over his teeth before brushing over the point of his elongated canine.

With a push, you feel the sting as his fang just barely dips into soft flesh, a drop of blood beading at the surface before you push the muscle to his, locked onto the way his eyes roll to the back of his skull, the growl momentarily starting up again before his lips lock around your tongue, sucking at every morsel of blood that springs from the pinprick cut like a man starved. A man that has most likely been starved of blood directly from the source for more years that you’ve been alive.

If you thought that you’d unlocked the beast within him before, the taste of your blood brings out an entirely new side. His lips part from yours, the crimson in his frenzied eyes transforming before you, as though enriched from just a taste of warm iron. You watch as his pupils dilate and constrict, each push and pull between black and red prove hypnotic as his eyes slowly begin to refocus, the colour to his irises seem dull in comparison to the bright vermillion flecked with gold that peers down at you, still wild with hunger, driven by need.

The moment is broken mere seconds later when his head drops to your neck, sharpened teeth dragging along the throbbing pulse at the base of your throat, and just when you expect the bite, you’re left gasping for an entirely unrelated reason as your shirt comes apart against sharp enamel, shredded where it surrounds your naked torso, leaving you entirely bare. Yet all it takes is a singular glance to realise he remains fully dressed, not a single article shed.

“König,” Your voice comes out strained, practically whining as though prepared to beg, “Let me undress you?”

He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking up to you from under his lashes before the grip on your arms lessens, his legs folding under him as he rights himself into a kneeling position over your body. He suddenly seems unsure, maybe a little self-conscious as you lean up brushing your fingers over flowing pristine white silk, taking your time as you unfasten each button, never once letting your eyes stray from his. And despite the hint of bashfulness, he keeps his gaze pinned to you, a wary lion caught off guard by brave prey.

After the last button falls undone, you let the tips of your fingers trace up revealed skin, before pushing the shirt from his shoulders, and watching as it billows onto the floor, exposing a defined chest highlighted by a smattering of scars that tell stories you could only dream of hearing. He’s nothing short of ethereal, otherworldly in every sense of the word, a behemoth of a beast, with the face of an angel.

“You cover up a lot for a man as handsome as you are.” Your disguised question prompts a flinch, solid fingers clutching into fists at his side, but before you can rush to amend your words, he slumps, resigned to your curiosity.

“I have garnered a reputation I do not wish to catch up to me. It is safer to keep myself hidden, maus.” You make a mental note if you somehow find yourself in his company after this night to ask him more, a carnal need to know everything that makes up the being knelt above you. But you tuck them away for now, refocusing your attention to the waistband of his trousers, deft fingers wasting little time undoing the silver clasp and dragging down the zip until the front peels open.

“Good thing you don’t have to keep hidden in front of me, huh?” Your lips tug upwards into a playful smirk, your hands planting on the solid muscle of his chest before you’re pushing him backwards, letting his legs splay out either side of your now free body before easing both his pants and underwear down the corded muscle of his thigh, marvelling at each inch of skin revealed to ravenous eyes. His trousers join the crumpled mess of clothes that lay scattered across the floor, giving him no time to adjust to his new found nudity before your head is ducking down, tongue flitting out to lick a long strip from the base of his cock to the tip.

Your enthusiasm is immediately rewarded with a faltered whine, watching from under your lashes as his head lolls backwards, trembling fingers coming to cup either side of your face. He’s big, his cock twitching against the defined muscle of his abdomen, thick and long, and nothing short of daunting. Yet you choose to focus on the way your pussy clenches around air at the mere sight of it, overwhelmed by the knowledge that you’ll understand what it is to be split open by him, to be fucked by him. Your tongue darts out once more to press against the tip, the small cut on the surface only just healed over, your spine shuddering at the dulled sting that follows as you begin to take the head of his cock between your lips, mouth stretched almost painfully around the girth.

It does nothing to dissuade you, however, tears clouding your vision of his blissed out expression as you swallow him down deeper, hardly taking more than two inches before your throat spasms around him in protest, coaxing a throaty whimper from spit-shined lips that has your hand darting down to your clit, fingers rubbing desperate circles into soaked flesh.

The following whine that reverberates around his cock swiftly gives you away, crimson eyes focusing in on the way your hand disappears between your thighs, before flitting back to the way your watering eyes remain locked to his, hissing out several curses in German at the sight of your lips wrapped around his straining cock.

“Your mouth… Gott, your fucking mouth,” strong fingers guide your head off his cock, your lips separating from the tip with a lewd pop, strings of saliva and pre-cum connecting your lolled out tongue to his cock. “Need to fuck you, schätzchen, I can’t wait any longer, verdammte hölle—”

You’re not given any warning before he’s pinning your back to the floor, bringing your knees up to your chest and bending you in half, a feat you didn’t know you were capable of before his strong fingers moulded you into the perfect position to take his cock. Folded like this, you can’t help but feel like a doll in his hands, your height and weight rendered meaningless under the sheer size of the monster above you. Trepidation begins to simmer under the surface of your skin, trying to imagine just how your body could ever make room for him.

But he doesn’t leave you much time to fret before his head falls to your thighs, thick fingers twitching from where they hold up your legs as his nose buries into your pubic bone. Long strands of brunette block your vision, startling as you register the feeling of something thick and wet pressing against your folds.

“K-König!” Your cry prompts a responding groan from the man below you as his tongue licks firm stripes up the length of your cunt, glassy eyes drifting up to you as though intoxicated, drunk of the heady taste of your arousal. With a jolt, you’re left helpless to watch as one of his hands slides down your thigh, stuttering through another gasped moan of his name as you feel a single thick digit slide into the wet heat of your pussy, eyes watering at the stretch that merely one of his fingers provides.

He doesn’t hold up, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking the second he feels your walls clamp around him, slowly easing your muscles into accepting a second finger, distracting you from the momentary pain by lapping his tongue against your engorged clit. But even so, taking two of his fingers feels like more of a challenge than any cock you’ve taken in the past, eyes rolling backwards as he begins to crook them within you, calloused fingers rubbing against the gummy walls of your cunt in a way that has you convulsing around him, warbled sobs hiccuping past your lips as you feel your first climax rip through your body.

“One more, maus, I need you to take one more so I know I won’t hurt you.”

Tears track down your face, still processing the intensity that just wracked your body, but you nod down at him anyway, rewarded with a gentle smile and whispered praise as he cautiously eases a third finger into you, pausing the second he hears a pained hiss after the first knuckle. He hums, placing tender kitten licks against your still throbbing clit, letting you push past tender overstimulation to help pull your mind off the burning stretch, refocusing your attention to the pleasure his mouth provides.

“Doing so well, liebling, almost there…” His words are whispered against your glistening pussy, eyes firmly fixed on yours as he guides you through, until finally all three of his fingers are pushed to the hilt, cooed praise following immediately after.

“König, need you, I need you inside of me, please.” Your sniffled plea evokes nothing more than a playful smile from him as he cocks his head to the side.

“Am I not inside of you right now, maus?” His tone is teasing, words accompanied by a wiggle of the fingers that remain buried in your cunt, coaxing a depraved moan from your already raw throat.

“Your cock, wan’ your cock so bad,” It takes a second to search for the word that sits on the tip of your tongue, your eyes sparking when it finally comes to you, “Bitte, König.”

It’s immediate, the way his fingers pull from your cunt and secure themselves back around your thigh, darkened rubies glinting with that same predatory stare you’re all too familiar with now. He wastes no time as the tip of his cock bumps against soaked folds, your fingers wrapping around his veined shaft as you guide him inside, mouth parting in a silent cry as the tip pushes past the first ring of muscle and leaves you breathless.

There is no mistaking that three of his fingers gave you a mere taste of the stretch, belatedly wondering how on Earth he’ll fit amongst the tight walls of your cunt, and the other organs that surround it. But by some grace of God, he continues to move, inch after thick inch swallowed by your cunt as though it were made for him, a perfect match, the monster and his plaything, the predator and its ever willing prey.

A rush of air finally fills your lungs once the dull slap of his hips meets your ass, unfocused eyes widening as you take in the protrusion of his cock, the bulge obscenely large where it stretches out your skin.

“S’big, you’re so fuckin’ big, what the fuck—”

Slurred rambles are cut off with a searing kiss, passionate and fiery as his hips begin to draw back, swallowing down frenzied curses as he slams back into you, setting a cruel pace right from the start. You never had a chance, you should have known, and yet you regret nothing as he pounds into your abused cunt, your cervix meeting the tip of his weeping cock with each forceful thrust, thick veins rubbing against the walls of your pussy and leaving you glassy eyed and cock-drunk.

Mindless babbles flow from drooling lips, your neck drooping to the side as you hope your eyes convey your needs without resorting to incoherent words. But it takes little more than exposing your throat to him before his lips latch onto the flesh, sucking a line of bruises into your skin before finally settling over your jugular, the only pre-warning of the oncoming bite being the scrape of fangs before they’re puncturing skin, flooding your veins with a venom that has your toes curling, fingernails digging into the muscle of his back and dragging thick red lines against shuddering flesh.

His pace never falters, hips still careening against yours as his lips suck around the two minute incisions, drinking down your blood with a thirst you’ve never witnessed. Whether it’s the subduing poison that flows through your bloodstream, or the shift of hips as his cockhead nudges the walls of your cunt in a way that has stars blooming behind your eyelids, you find yourself hurtling into another climax, whimpered cries and bloodied nails evidence of your earth-shattering orgasm.

His lips finally part from your skin with a slick sigh, lips painted the most beautiful shade of crimson that drips down his chin, a line that marks your possession, evidence he’s consumed by you, drunk on you. And it’s as you lean down, your tongue dragging against the bloodied stubble of his chin, lapping up what remains of your scarlet ichor, that he finally succumbs to the pleasure, his cock jolting within you as he releases seemingly endless spurts of cum against your cervix, buried as deep within your body as biology will allow.

Panted breaths intermingle as his forehead presses flush to yours, lidded eyes, now nearly entirely consumed by gold peers at you, an interesting mix of fascination and something that looks almost fond discernible in his gaze. You still have so many questions, intrigued and just a little bit obsessed with the man above you, yet it’s apparent that your feelings are far from unrequited, and one day, every question that burns at your tongue and begs for answers will be satiated. For now, you’ll bask in his looming presence and tender care, grateful to have found him in the first place, however unfortunate the initial meeting was.

Just as his lips ghost against yours, the distant sound of creaking has you both freezing in place.

“H-Hello? You still in here?”

“... Scheiße.”

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izvmimi · 7 months

Text

cw: palace drama au! multiple wives, you are empress, katsuki is emperor. violence. implied infidelity. a/n: i didn't edit this sorry

it's the day of the autumn solstice and the second year of the flame emperor's reign, and you as Empress find yourself as the center of a disaster.

your hands shake as you settle at your ornate banquet table, your eating utensils dropped to the side and your appetite long gone. your eyes dart from the emperor in his own seating place, elevated and separate from you and the remainder of the wives, to the gaggle of overly-dressed women who stare at you in shock, and finally to the handmaiden who kneels in the center of the hall and accuses you of high treason.

your mouth opens and closes. what can you say to defend yourself?

"i, your servant, would not make this up or let heaven strike me down."

your trusted handmaiden finishes her accusation and bows deeply; the palace guard beside her, a man you've met at most twice, takes a final glance at you, allowing himself to smirk, then also bows in respect to the emperor. you can't bear to look at your husband now, letting your eyes focus on the soup before you. they prick and blur however, as though the steam and spice is injuring you, but when tears begin to fall wordlessly, it's clear that you've begun to break down.

for the next few moments, the room is so silent one could hear a pin drop.

they all wait for the emperor to speak.

instead of speaking however, he claps once, slowly, loudly and echoing throughout the ornate room. you can tell one of the wives is startled as there's a quiet clanging of silverware in the distance and hushed whispering.

another clap, then another, and then a laugh. you look up, and your husband looks furious from his high position, but there is a smile on his face that is much more like a baring of his teeth and he is laughing as he looks at the two bodies prostrating themselves before him.

"so let me get this straight..." he recapitulates.

your heart sinks into your stomach. you don't want to hear this accusation again and yet you will.

"empress has been going behind my back in the palace that i've designed especially for her exactly to her specifications, for you-" he points to the guard, an admittedly strapping young man with a slightly uncanny resemblance to the emperor if not for a duskier tone to his hair and kinder, brown eyes, "and i have been none the wiser."

the young man looks up and katsuki resists the urge to throw a plate, keeping his other fist tightly clenched, rested on his knee.

"yes, your majesty." previously confident, he seems to now be diminished in size, realizing the severity of his claims with katsuki's ever word.

katsuki laughs again.

"and you?"

the palace maid scrambles up and nods.

"yes, your majesty, your servant is listening." she doesn't meet his eyes, despite the laundry list of accusations she'd provided on your name moments ago.

"and you have seen this the entire time and waited till our family dinner to report it?"

the palace maid deepens her bow, her forehead pressed onto the ground, frantic.

"i was afraid of my mistress, the empress, your majesty, but i couldn't continue to be complicit to this sin against you!"

he chuckles again, and the palace maid sees herself in between his teeth.

at this time, as though practiced, another consort suddenly rises and loudly proclaims that a crime has been committed against the emperor and the harem.

"you dare make a mockery of your marriage!" she accuses. this woman has never liked you, several ranks below you and bitter all the while, and as she communicates her discomfort with you in your position loudly, her handmaiden standing beside her attempts to calm her down and settle her into her seat. she folds her hands in her lap and trembles like a leaf, knowing that the tides may not be turning in their favor.

another concubine rises and insists that any person who would sell out their master in this fashion is a demon and should be punished on principle.

an additional concubine insists that your love is true. commotion increases and you can barely hear anything for the rush of blood in your ears. you cannot believe this is happening.

being accused of cheating in the imperial harem is a death sentence.

and on top of that it is simply not true. you would never - you love katsuki, more than life itself.

katsuki rises suddenly, his robes flapping behind him as he steps with gravitas down the stairs, ringed fingers tightly clenched still in fists behind his back. there is a smile on his face and you know that smile, it is vicious and it is unpredictable. the wives all sit quickly, unsure of his next move. you remain frozen, not a muscle moving since you were brought to trial.

the room silences again and katsuki stands before your supposed illicit lover. he takes him by the chin, observing him as one does some sort of livestock. bending ever so slightly, he looks him in the eye, and the man seems to reduce himself in stature out of fear.

"i could not say no," he utters.

"shut up." katsuki orders and the man falls silent. "aren't you good-looking?" he jokes, as he circles the man like a cobra. he turns behind him, not letting go of his chin, and leans in, whispering, "tell me what it was like to sleep with the empress."

the guard's mouth opens and closes and katsuki's hand lowers, fingers tightening around his neck.

"tell me."

"i-"

katsuki's nails dig into the center of the tender skin and the man sputters. katsuki laughs as the man leans forward, and katsuki laughs.

"drag him out and execute him."

in a blur, the man is dragged out kicking and screaming and your heart pounds unrelenting in your chest.

katsuki stands still, hands behind his back and your accuser trembles.

"you're telling the truth, young woman?" he asks.

she also sputters, still trembling, "yes, yes, well, maybe, um..."

"that's what i thought."

katsuki finally squats in front of the palace maid whose lips waver. the harem leans in to look, the consort who so brazenly accused you herself holding her breath.

"what's your name?"

she whispers it, and katsuki declares back.

"a woman who lies does not deserve to exist. from now on you are a ghost."

the woman pales, but the decree is already set out. katsuki doesn't have to say it this time, but the guards seize her and she's meant to be erased, whatever that means in the empire.

you continue to hold your breath; the rest of the harem does as well. katsuki turns to you and takes your hand, bringing you back up to his seat with him. he murmurs,

"you must have been afraid."

you nod, tears streaming down your face. the other members of the harem watched, but it won't be the first or the last time they've recognized your favor. after all, you ARE the legitimate wife.

everyone is just extra.

"a little," you murmur under your breath. you take your seat next to him, and the tables are rearranged.

"trust me," he says. you look into his eyes, recognizing that they are true, and that they see your heart. he feeds you from the cake at the center of his table and it's the first thing you can swallow, nodding, sweet chasing away the bitterness that was swelling in your throat. he turns to the rest of the harem.

"everyone eat in peace. the solstice is still upon us."

and they do.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #daydreams: bnha #cw infidelity #cw violence #mimi's notes

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one-time-i-dreamt · 2 years

Text

not a dream

I feel really angry. Long rant ahead, mentions of death, child death specifically, unsafe driving, entitledness, a horrible legal system, and much more. This will be a highly frustrating read to you. Skip ahead if you don't want to be bummed out.

A clip of a guy committing a traffic violation (overtaking cars in a traffic jam using a lane that's only meant for stopping in case of emergencies) on a bridge here in Croatia went viral here recently. Somebody recorded him and uploaded it to a popular car group.

After it went viral, it was uncovered that he was fined for doing the same thing at the same place two weeks before this, so he's clearly a repeat offender and hasn't learned anything even after being hit with a fine.

I wish that was the worst thing about this story, but it's not.

After people dug out more information about the driver, they discovered that in 2019, he killed a 15 year old girl while speeding on a motorcycle that he legally wasn't allowed to own nor drive.

He was only 16 at the time and could legally only drive motorcycles that fell into A1 category (power up to 15KS), and the motorcycle he was driving was a sports motorcycle KTM Duke 390 (43.5 KS). He only just got his license for the starter motorcycle to begin with.

He was speeding 117km/h in an area where the speed limit was 50km/h and hit the young girl while she was crossing the road on a pedestrian (zebra) crossing. She was walking home with two girlfriends after attending the first concert that she was allowed to go to only with friends in her whole life.

How great must that night have felt for them before tragedy struck.

His victim flew horrifying 50 meters and died on impact, while the 18 year old female passenger on his motorcycle was hospitalized with serious injuries and was fighting for her life and was in a serious condition but managed to pull through.

He was 16 and a half at the time of the accident he caused and a news site managed to find an ad he left months before that, when he was barely 16, trying to sell his motorcycle because it "didn't suit him" but it was "brand new, a month old".

This was all in 2019. In 2021, he was finally tried in court and received a sentence of 3 years and 10 months in a juvenile prison, but his sentence was reduced after his lawyers put in an appeal.

He made an impact statement and said that he too was affected by the accident and that it changed his life both physically and psychologically and that he's suffering due to it because he has become an outcast in his town as a consequence.

His lawyer allegedly fought the verdict on grounds of psychological instability and disability, and won. I don't know if the culprit ever served any time. He's 19 now and got a BMW for his birthday from his parents. The same parents that bought him a motorcycle he was too young to handle.

Their little monster is an adult now.

He hasn't learned anything. He's reckless and doesn't care about others. He hasn't showed that he is sorry. He wasn't punished nor held responsible. He's only been thinking about himself in all of this.

How it impacted HIM. What it did to HIM. HIS health, HIS social life. He's driving his birthday present BMW around and still repeatedly breaking the law, and he's alive and he's free.

And 15 year old Magdalena Šimić is still dead because of him.

I've learned of this story because of a post that Magdalena's mother, Sandra wrote, that somebody I know shared. I was horrified, sad and angry for the family, but I can't even begin to imagine how they feel in all of this.

Powerless? Broken? Enraged? They're still waiting for some kind of justice for their daughter. A justice that won't come until things change. How is it that this guy is allowed to have a driver's license? That he's completely avoided jail time?

A crime like this should not go unpunished and the parents of the culprit who bought him the murder weapon and allowed him to use it should be punished as well.

-Matea

#not a dream #croatia #hrvatska #long post #death tw #car accident tw

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yanderes-galore · 7 months

Note

Could I Request a yandere arkhamverse harley quinn concept? -🎂

Sure! Writing Harley Quinn could be fun :) This felt a bit everywhere but most of my fics are me just letting my thoughts flow without planning so I hope you enjoy ^^

Yandere! Arkham! Harley Quinn Concept

(Primarily Arkham Knight)

Pairing: Platonic -> Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Violence, Manipulation, Anger issues, Grief, Kidnapping, Drugging/Gassing, Breaking and entering, Forced companionship, Delusional behavior, Clingy behavior.

Harley could work as a romantic or platonic.

Like... as a platonic she seems like she'd be really bubbly and act like a friend.

A psychotic friend but... somewhat of a friend.

As a romantic she'd be about as obsessive with you as she would be with Joker.

One thing that Arkham/Injustice Harley share with each other is their independence from Joker.

It's just that they deal with it differently.

Injustice Harley becomes a hero after the death of Joker.

While Arkham Harley commits to crime in the name of Joker.

This version of Harley actually gets more insane at the passing of Joker instead of better.

Harley would be a very dangerous yandere in general, but this universe may just make her worse.

Her obsession with someone new most likely starts sometime around Arkham Knight if she sees you in a romantic sense.

If she sees you in a platonic sense I imagine it could be whenever but for now I'll focus on Arkham Knight.

Harley is a yandere who feels she needs to be dependent on her darling.

If she sees you as a friend/ally then she sticks around you as she feels you'll ease her through her grief.

Which is strange as if anyone else tries to ease her grief she snaps at them.

Here's some backstory between you, up until Arkham Knight.

The friend route would make more sense if you "knew" her when Joker was alive.

Harley no doubt first had platonic feelings towards you, that's how her yandere traits would start due to her being with Joker.

She stalks you for a bit then breaks into your home.

She acts like you two are friends and is really bubbly and overly excited towards you.

While you barely know anything about the crazed woman who keeps breaking into your home, she feels she knows everything about you from just watching you.

No doubt spills about you towards the Joker.

She tells him she's found a new friend and that they simply must be involved with their plans.

Your "friendship" with Harley is very one-sided.

She somehow manages to find you and even drags you with her places.

At least once you've been a hostage for one of her and Joker's plans.

The entire time she's acting like it's a fun thing for you two to do.

"Mr. J said I could bring you to meet him~ I bet we'll have so much fun!"

You did not.

Despite your fear and forced compliance, she trusts you and soon you may even get used to being a target of her strange obsession.

Hell, maybe soon you convince her you'll be her "friend" if she just visits and doesn't pull you into any of Joker's plans.

She agrees... and never leaves you alone.

You and Joker are the ones she loves the most.

So when she loses Joker, her beloved, she only has one other person to cling to.

While you contact the police and Batman of Harley's obsession towards you, Harley realizes she needs the comfort of her beloved friend.

It's at this point Harley can stay a platonic yandere or split into a romantic yandere.

Harley would hunt you down, even if you moved.

When she does? She'll send her goons to pick you up and drag her to her little base she's made for herself.

It disappoints her that you may no longer be in your old home, but she'll find you.

You don't need to hide from her!

The moment your conscious you look so confused.

Only to see Harley staring with a grin.

"Hey there! Been awhile, hasn't it? Safe to say I think I've missed you...."

Harley would use her darling as a coping mechanism.

Like an old friend, one you never wanted, she sobs and rants about the loss of Joker.

The whole time you're tied to a chair and hoping Batman comes fast enough.

Then over time she'd shift the topic of her rants to you.

She rambles to you about how you've always been there and how much fun you two have had in the past.

Then maybe the conversation dips into romantic territory... her mentioning how she feels things for you without even meaning to say it.

The idea of her having romantic feelings towards you strikes fear in your gut.

Unfortunately, it's not your say if she has romantic intentions with you or not.

If Harley continues to just see you as a friend then she plans on making you her second in command.

Even if she liked you as a crush she'd take a similar route, although it changes over time.

She's physically clingy and often wants her darling beside her.

Harley would also find some sort of "fun" nickname to call you all the time, smiling the whole time.

If Harley held romantic feelings towards you... imagine if she tried to make you her new "Joker" in this universe?

She may try to get her hands on Joker blood, gas, or even some chemicals to force you into her new love.

Oh, Puddin'... you may be unwilling now, but she'll show you that you can be wonderful for each other.

Harley in this universe truly can't forget about her Joker.

She also adores you.

Why should she have to choose between the two of you?

Why doesn't she just have both?

Harley in this universe definitely seems like she'd brainwash and drug you into the next Joker.

The moment she sees traits of him in you melded with your normal personality, she's in love.

Ohhh, now she has you both!

She's never been happier!

While you're panicking as your personality feels split due to Joker... Harley is holding you and kissing you with happy giggles.

"Oh you're everything and everyone I love! Now I have you both once again... we... I can be happy again!"

By this point something is telling you to reciprocate the affection but you struggle with what to do.

Harley becomes fully dependent on you after this, simply happy she has her two loves in one.

Maybe you'll even let the whole Joker personality take over?

Then you'll be a ruler of crime.

This isn't a life you wanted.

But as the Joker's presence within you grows... you begin to enjoy it.

Then maybe you'll begin to reciprocate Harley's feelings.

Then you'll be everything she's ever wanted.

"I love you, Puddin'...!"

#yandere dc #yandere dc villains #yandere arkhamverse #yandere dc arkhamverse #yandere harley quinn #yandere arkhamverse harley quinn #yandere arkham knight

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goldenwitherphoenix13 · 10 months

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A long post is under the cut, but I think we, as a fandom, moved on far too quickly from the endings of empires smp season 2.

Almost everyone got a happy ending.

Fwhip resigned from the role of the Goblin king.

Joel accended to true God hood.

Sausage grew old in sanctuary and raised Hermes to be an interdimentional warrior.

Gem finished Dawn and chose to stay in Hermitcraft because it was the best choice.

Katherine cured the curse plaguing her land.

Joey got to go on all sorts of adventures after defeating his arch-nemesis Skeletron.

Pix, while not finishing his work, got to tell the story of the ancient ruins.

Lizzie created a fully functioning city of animals to live as they want.

Shelby became one of the most powerful witches and got that date with Katherine.

Scott went off into the sunset with Owen to discover new lands and treasures to steal.

Heck, even Oli got out of debt, even if he ended up accidentally time travelling.

And while False never uploaded her finale, we can easily infer that she continued to expand her empire and make her name for herself.

Who did I miss?

Sheriff Jimmy.

The sheriff, who all the other emperors abandoned. The sheriff, nearly loosing his own identity to a joke. The sheriff, who lost his town to the fae.

Let's not forget Jimmy never left tumble town willingly. He was booted out when the fae corrupted his lands, spreading it throughout his home. He and the old sheriff, Roswell, made the best of a bad situation. I mean, what else can they do? Fight the fae? Fae are powerful creature. Not to be messed with. Fighting them is a one-way ticket to death if they don't decide to hold you a prisoner in their realm.

Jimmy also never got the chance to say goodbye to anyone. Everyone had already left him behind. Joel had accended without saying goodbye to his supposed best bud. Sausage never thought to check in on tumble town. There was no final passing of words—just a note from Fwhip.

And, let's not forget this big bit of information, the thing that still grinds my gears about empires season 2. He is the only villain of season 2 who got no closure, redemption or apology. Shelby was uncorrupted and saved. Sausage supreme was fused into Sausages soul. Skeletron was killed by Katherine, Joey and Shelby. They all got an end to their villainy, wether through being saved or killed.

Jimmy got nothing.

His ending was, in multiple ways, left unfinished. He was still bitter towards the emperors. He was still lacking any human respect. He wasn't given any apology or forgiveness. He was forced out of his home by powerful creatures, trying his best to make good of the darkness left to him.

But it's not all darkness. This isn't a bad ending. I think this end has an underlying subtext not even Jimmy planned for. Something I've seen almost no one talking about.

The sheriff walked away from a toxic environment.

Now is an excellent time to remind you that this is all about the characters. Not the actual content creators. Got it? Good.

Let's be honest. None of the characters in Empires Season 2 were 100% innocent besides maybe Katherine. Some were thieves. Some were filled with pride, some made dubious choices, and some were even a little corrupt. And Jimmy isn't an exception. He was a lil bit dishonest with power sometimes and a lil bit prideful in his name. But the sheriff wasn't evil at first. He still did things to help people. He helped Katherine arrest Joey for theft. He did his best to follow the rules, and he actively sought to stop those committing crimes and try to understand the issue at hand, like with Shelby. And his reward. Constant teasing and mockery.

Everyone, including his allies, still made fun of him. Even his best bud said things behind his back. And this is what made him snap. Not the jokes, but that no one, not even his allies, seemed to show any human decency to him.

And he never got an apology or a moment to put them in their place to tell them that they have done goofed. The sheriff was barely given a chance to build, hardly a chance to breathe. He knows he probably couldn't take them in a fight, but they didn't even give him a chance to talk. They made him sit there and take it like he had no choice.

The sheriff instead chose to walk away. Everyone had left him behind. And with the threat of the fae above him, he decided that the best course of action was to leave the toxic lands behind. Lands full of pranks and mistakes that would only ever remind him of his negative attributes.

The sheriff stayed with the one person who ever showed him any sliver of true friendship—the old sheriff. The old sheriff helped reverse the effects of the lore potion with an unnamed potion he found at Shelbys. He helped Jimmy defend the town from a raid. He stayed with him through thick and thin. Sure, he isn't the best influence, but he's better than the world around them.

Ultimately, Jimmy's finale wasn't the good ending like everyone else's. Villains rarely ever get those. Instead, it's a bittersweet goodbye from the two sheriffs off to find a new home far away to the lands of one that brought sorrow, even if at least one of them has some anger issues to work through.

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hello-nichya-here · 8 months

Note

So I've asked you this in private, but I thought the rest of your followers should see this as your thoughts are quite entertaining.

What is your opinion on the idea of stuff like this being the only acceptable method of pornography?

*cracks knuckles* Let's get the easiest part out of the way first.

Saying Something Is "Female-Friendly" Is Just Marketing

I'm sorry (not really) to be the one to state the obvious, but at best labeling any kind of pornography as "female friendly" means "most of the people that enjoy this are women" - which is very different from saying "ALL women are into this" or "No guys are ever into this." It's the good old "this cartoon is for boys, that one is for girls."

It's not a radical statement, it's not revolutionary, and it is at best a morally neutral mention of a random statistic that is being used to find the best demography to advertise to and at worst just pointlessly trying to force people into boxes with that they are/are not allowed to enjoy based on their gender.

Don't believe me? Well, too bad because this image you're seeing is literally part of a facebook ad for a porn site. The name of the site and of the artist they were working with can be seen at the top in the uncut version. Like I said, it doesn't matter how "radical" these claims of "this product is made for/by X minority group" pretend to be, at the end of the day it's just marketing.

"Oh, but people obviously support the message it's sending anyway!" True... but that message is at best filled with poor word choices, and full on terrible at worst.

Consent - Important In Real Life, Meaningless In Fantasy

In the context of this being an ad for a porno site, I think it's safe to say "Consent-based" is just a way of assuring viewers that every actress was fully consenting to every sexual act and was not pressured into anything in any way, which is the bare minimum.

HOWEVER, I've seen plenty of people misunderstand or flat out lie about the "consent-based porn" term means. Like I explained, it is meant to be about the ACTORS consenting - but their "characters" don't need to consent to anything because they are not real. A hardcore CNC fantasy with the actress pretending she doesn't want the sex/is not enjoying it while her co-star pretends to force themselves on her is STILL consent-based if the actress playing the victim role can stop the scene for literally any reason and even walk out completely if that's what she wants.

Unfortunatelly, because kink-shaming is still very much a thing, people act like that is crossing a line and totally counts as legitimate assault - even in videos that the actors before AND after the scene mention how excited they are, how great it was, openly discuss their kinks, etc.

Nobody needs to watch something so extreme if they don't want to, but I have a serious problem with people saying stuff like that shouldn't ever happen. If the people involved in the role-play are doing it WILLINGLY and can back down at any moment, then it isn't in anyway immoral.

Sexual Attraction Is NOT The Same As Respect/Acceptance

Once again, I'm sorry (not really) to be the one who has to tell you guys this, but "representation" in porn is meaningless because:

1 - It doesn't matter how many porn videos there are of any minority group - each individual person picking something to watch will only click on the ones that show people with the body-types and genders they are attracted to, doing stuff they personally find appealing.

2 - "This kind of porn is popular" does not in anyway translate to "this is what society deems morally acceptable". A ton of homophobes LOVE lesbian porn. My country, Brazil, has always had porn with trans people and crossdressers as one of THE most popular trends - yet we are also the country that commits hate crimes against them the most, even when compared to places where being trans or crossdressing is literally a crime that earns you an authomatic death sentence. Incest porn has been obscenely popular everywhere for decades yet most people STILL find the thought of real-life incest absoutely repulsive.

3 - "I am not usually/ever attracted to people of group X" doesn't authomatically mean "I HATE people of group X." Just cause I like red-heads and brunettes, doesn't mean I'll be commiting hate crimes against blondes. If that was how things worked, sex-repulsed asexuals would hate literally all of humanity.

Wanting porn to be inclusive is utterly pointless because sexual attraction is 100% morally neutral. Which brings us to...

What Even Counts As "Objectification"?

Once again, if by "Don't objectify people" we are talking about how "Just because you hired this person to star in a porno, it doesn't mean you can just ignore their consent, comfort and safety for the sake of your fetish" then yeah, that's the bare minimum.

However, if you're saying "don't objectify people" as a way to say "Don't make the video too graphic/obscene/kinky" then we absolutely have a problem here because, my guy, it's porn. It is all about letting us see hot people looking slutty and fucking in great, explict detail.

"Oh, but these sexual acts are humiliating and gross!" To you, maybe. But not to the actors that are very willing to do it. I've had some of my fetishes be called both deeply disturbing and gross AND the most vanilla shit ever. That kind of stuff is 100% subjective, and the only people who can say "I felt disrespected/unsafe/abused" are the actors themselves. Once again, if THEY consented, there's nothing wrong with it regardless of it appealing to you or not.

"Oh, but we'd be wasting an opportunity to educate people/give X group more representation"

If I ever click on a porno and there's a two minute intro with the actors, both belonging to some minority group, talking about how one of them is also historian and the other is a astronomer, I will STILL only care about seeing them fuck even though I love both history and astronomy - not because I don't think they can't possibly know what they're talking about since they are sex workers or because of some kind of bigotry, but because, surprise surprise, I only check out porn sites for the porn. That's what EVERYONE does.

Hell, bad porn can be used to educate people. 50 Shades is awful and a ton of ignorant people think it is 100% accurate to how BDSM actually works. However, this has led to entire groups of people who are actually kinky to discuss REAL BDSM with vanilla people and educate them on how it can be a great thing. And, of course, there's people that enjoy those shitty novels/movies but KNOW they are not accurate representiation of BDSM because they are aware that PORN IS JUST FANTASY, NOT A GUIDE TO HOW SEX SHOULD WORK!

"But it's so shallow to focus only on these people's looks and know literally nothing else about them!"

Yes, and? Being "shallow" isn't always bad, and feeling attracted to someone solely for their looks is not a crime.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a goddamn fanfic writer and I was once the classic "teenager that totally thinks she'd have a chance with that famous rockstar that is old enough to be her dad", I KNOW that the thought of a real connection (emotional, intelectual, etc) CAN be hot - but there's nothing wrong with "These two people whose names I don't even know look hot, I wanna see them fuck, then I'll go take a nap and never think of them again." These porn stars are not crying themselves to sleep because people whose faces they've never even seen don't know anything about them other than how they look without clothes on.

"Female" Pleasure - Yet ANOTHER Hollow Marketing Term!

Seriously, that last one REALLY irritated me because it's one of those things that tries to sound progressive, but are meaningless at best and downright sexist at worst, because it implies:

1 - There must be a strict separation between "female" pleasure and "male" pleasure. A sexual act cannot possibly be enjoyable for both the guy and the girl, and gender prevents men and women from EVER being into the same thing (as a woman that finds more porn that fits my taste in "male-centered" sites than in most "porn for women" sites, this one gets on my nerves).

2 - Pleasuring one's partner cannot possibly be enjoyable - so, say, a girl cannot possibly enjoying giving her boyfriend head, and vice versa.

3 - Sex is a competition and women NEED to win because "female" pleasure is apparently more moral than "male" pleasure (hence the "ALL porn can and should be 'female' friendly")

4 - ALL women are turned on/turned off by the exact same sexual acts, and the level of pleasure they get is always exactly the same. Preferences are not individual and never change over time. (Seriously, a woman directs a sex scene between two actresses, the editor is a woman, and all the viewers are women - which one will speak for her entire gender and decide what "female" pleasure looks like? You see how silly this sounds?)

Conclusion

Sex and sexuality can never be over-simplified like that, and fantasies are just harmless fun.

#asks #sex positivity #sex positive #pro kink

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brokenorbornthatway · 1 year

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So when are we going to start to address the very real harm that the anti ship discourse, as well as anti para rhetoric, does to people with POCD?

Do you have any idea what it's like to obsess over the fear that you might be a ped0? I have literally spent days basically non-stop analysing anything I ever might have done that would make me a ped0 with my greatest reassurance to myself being that "I can't be, because if I was I'd kill myself." (If you know anything about OCD, you know reassurances don't actually help. When I inevitably found more reasons to convince myself I am a P, the line to off myself only sounded more and more like the reasonable solution)

In my rational brain I know that fiction isn't reality and I don't deserve to fucking die over reading fic. I never used to have a problem with problematic fic I read because it was completely divorced from reality to me. I knew that it was completely fiction, even more than that it was further removed from reality because it was fanfiction, and knowing that nobody was being actually hurt meant I could read it without questioning my morals. Reading problematic fic didn't even pop up as a worry when the pocd would come back because I knew that fanfiction isn't reality and what you read in fiction has no basis on what you like in reality.

And I still know that's true when it comes to other people, i know that people who read and write problematic fic aren't intently ped0s, but the anti discourse has fucked me up. Ever since seeing people argue that reading or writing problematic ships means that you are secretly a ped0, my POCD has latched on to it and it makes me want to fucking die. I can barely engage with any media now without fear of commiting a fucking thought crime which will prove that I'm a monster and going to commit an actual crime. It's hard to be around anyone for fear that they'll also think I should die. I've gotten so much worse in the past couple years and so much of that is because of stupid fucking anti discourse.

And then there's the anti para rhetoric that exists fucking everywhere. Seeing people say "all ped0s and zoos should kts" has made me so sick. My ocd tells me that I'm actually just a ped0 in denial and should die because of it and people saying that all ped0s, regardless of if they have or would ever offend, should just die fuels the voice that tells me to commit slip and slide more than anything else.

For fucking decades the only people I've spoken to about this are my system members out of debilitating shame and fear and self loathing. Contemplating at what point the thoughts actually mean I should just give in and end it.

There are no such thing as thought crimes.

Reading problematic fic literally hurts no one.

Telling people that they're ped0s with no proof because they read something causes real harm.

#pocd #proship #pro para #anti anti

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theygotbitchesinmedia · 3 months

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ive started putting together a master list spreadsheet for all of the stuff I've been through in the past and already want to rec. It's kinda slow going because I've been in the car for the past three days, but once I have that workable I'll post it here.

In the meantime: I've finished teppu! Definitely really good. I'm still not really into sports narratives structurally but the character stuff they did was really enjoyable. I feel like it wasn't to most cleanly executed narrative and maybe could have given itself a little bit more space to work, but taking its length into account it used it's time really well

Since I'm on the road I wanted something kinda brainless and easy to get through for reading in the evenings I started surviving romance last night (note: I have no idea if the content of surviving romance is brainless and easy to get through but webtoon as a format is fundamentally designed for this. So.) But I got immediately distracted because a new flower that bloomed nowhere chapter dropped the second I opened it and I had to do that instead

We're at cracker barrel right now so I'm reading some more of it and all these webtoon comments are talking about how much they like the art. But aside from slightly more appealing color use I really don't see anything here as being visually interesting at all and barely different from any other webtoon style. Sorry I'm a webtoon hater and it'll really take a lot to change that. Visually boring is probably the worst crime a comic can commit and I feel like vertical scroll format simply does not lend itself well to interesting compositions

Anyway I'm gonna give it the first 7 chapters to see if I consider it being worth reading the rest since that's what's free on webtoon meaning that's what they've calculated as being their best onboarding for this.

They don't have butter knives at this cracker barrel they only gave us forks when we sat down and when we asked the waitress for a knife to butter our biscuits she said they didn't have any and brought us plastic takeaway cutlery instead. Which is fine for butter. But really raises some questions

#Media log

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skyeblue8 · 3 months

Note

Now, i only watched episode 1 of Hazbin and some clips from other episodes, so i have to ask: where do we exactly see Alastor committing sins? The only sin he did seems to be manipulating and choking Husk.

From all the few clips i have watched, Val seems to be the only one who actually committed any crime onscreen, while the protagonists never do any actual heinous shit. Was it ever mentioned Angel Dust was a mobster who killed people? What about his victims? Does the show ever address the terrible things these characters did when they were alive?

Again, i only watched few clips. Can you tell me if i am wrong about this?

There are actual scenes of Alastor doing sinful stuff like eating other sinners and threatening Husk, from what I've seen, but you're right. I've barely seen or heard of instances of truly immoral people within the show that are already in Hell.

There's a bit of it in the first episode, I believe, and maybe the scene with Pentious at a club, but not many people are committing all that many crimes. Now, I'm only going off clips like you, so perhaps I'm wrong, but there's not much, honestly. Even the cannibals are largely nice.

#ask #asks #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva critical #hazbin hotel critique #vivziepop criticism

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nanabansama · 5 months

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Who Hurt Amane

I recently got an ask about this topic! And I feel I've been pretty vocal lately about who I think did it. My opinion isn't new or unique, but because of this ask I wanted to lay out the facts to explore other possibilities and also reinforce why I think it is who I think it is.

So without further ado, let's list out the facts.

1. Amane has been getting injured since first year.

Tsuchigomori makes it pretty clear in Chapter 13 that Amane has been covered in injuries that "never go away" since first year, among other things like having no friends and skipping class.

Most can agree that Amane wasn't being abused as a toddler (post-Tsukasa's return) or at the Tanabata festival. He does not show any particularly concerning signs of a child who is being abused or bullied, and his bare skin shows no sign of injury. I think that rules out Amane being abused his entire life, or at least not as severely as he was during his second year of middle school.

We've seen Amane at two different points during his first year, though, and neither had him visibly injured. Those being his and Tsukasa's middle school entrance ceremony and during the 1968 school festival.

I feel it safe to assume that the physical abuse hadn't yet started at these points in time. (though considering Amane's dour attitude at the festival I wouldn't be super surprised if he's hiding scars...)

Also, remember that Tsuchigomori would have to notice these injuries, so I'm going to rule out the possibility that Tsuchigomori could skirt by on technicality just because Amane is hiding injuries on his legs or chest. Tsuchigomori wouldn't normally be able to see hidden cuts and bruises, so I believe he must have started noticing Amane is being injured sometime later in his first year. Remember, Amane still has about ~6 months worth of time to obtain visual injuries. That's a lot of time left.

We can at least confirm that Amane has no friends and skips class, though. Or at least see the beginnings of this. In Chapter 101, Amane confirms he has little to no involvement with the school play his class and Tsukasa are putting on and instead chooses to focus on fixing the clock. There's also a bonus comic where Amane calls out how peculiar it is that Tsukasa has so many friends while Amane doesn't.

It should only be a matter of time before we start seeing him covered in cuts, too.

2. Tsukasa isn't injured.

This one's a little harder to prove, but bear with me here.

We've had a few opportunities to see the twins during the murder suicide.

Here's Amane after stabbing Tsukasa:

And here's Tsukasa's body below Amane's in the same chapter that the above image was posted on Twitter to promote:

Take note of how pristine Tsukasa's arm looks: We get such a clear view of it, and yet all we see is a bit of blood splatter. I've seen this image dismissed before because Amane's arm is also missing his bandage (note how his right arm is bandaged in the art before this) but I still think this is substantial evidence to support the idea that Tsukasa wasn't injured like Amane was.

And if that's not enough for you, I have something else for you to consider:

This is Hanako in The Hell of Mirrors, a place whose mirrors reflect your greatest fears.

I've seen many people remain unconvinced that the character in the mirror is Tsukasa, thinking it must be Amane himself. And I can understand where they're coming from--why shouldn't he fear Amane? He's his old living self, the volatile one that committed the crime of murdering his little brother. That, and it's a mirror--why wouldn't it reflect the person inside?

So let's compare the face in the mirror with Amane's face.

Notice how the face has zero bandages. Amane has one on his left cheek, one above his right eyebrow, and one on the right side of his neck. The figure in the mirror has no bandages, not even on his arms.

This on top of the fact that I believe his little brother's dead body makes far more sense for Amane to fear than his own. If Amane himself is supposed to be his greatest fear, it makes more sense if it was him actually committing the murder, rather than his body on the floor after committing suicide. From what I understand of Amane, that would fill him with more disgust and self-hatred than anything.

So in conclusion, I either think that 1.) Tsukasa wasn't being physically abused, 2.) that he happened to stop being injured in the days leading up to the murder, or 3.) that if he did have injuries that they were in non-visible places. My default is that he wasn't, though.

And this leads us to...

3. Amane forgives them

Amane fully understands that his injuries aren't normal. That even in the cases that injuries like his could be justified, that his might not be. Regardless, he forgives it. He's allowing this to happen to him, and he refuses to tell Tsuchigomori the details.

After witnessing this, Nene comes up with the theory that Amane could be getting bullied, but if that were the case, I don't see why he would forgive some random bullies. The fact that Amane forgives them for their crime against him is an impactful moment! The chapter ends on it, even.

I believe the fact that Amane forgives this is crucial to understanding who did it.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆.⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆.ೃ

While we don't know Amane's full backstory yet, given what we know so far, I think the only two possibilities are either Tsukasa or their mom. And frankly, I think it would be weird for us to know as much about Amane as we do now and have the person injuring him be someone we haven't even met yet. Not impossible, no, but you'd think they'd be more important to his life if Amane forgives them, right?

Let me argue against the idea that it's his mother, as well. The injuries started in first year, not when he was a child. By all means, Amane seemed to be an average child up until middle school. Take note of his appearance during the 1964 Tanabata festival, when he was 8. The only really concerning things we saw were a lack of parental supervision and the fact that he was disappointed his brother wouldn't spend time at the festival with him.

In fact, we've seen very little of their mom, with the most damning evidence against her being when she rejected Tsukasa as her child after taking him to a shrine to be exorcised. Other than this, we've seen no evidence that she could be hitting her children. I personally find it weird that she would only start hitting them in middle school, if she is the cause of all this. And only Amane, at that. (I will admit I find it odd that her son getting injured didn't concern her to the point that his teacher had to step in, though.)

I also need to stress that we haven't seen Amane interact with or mention his mom since he was 4. Tsukasa's relationship with their mother is much more important to the story than Amane's. But who has Amane interacted with? Whose relationship with Amane is very important to the story?? (hint: it's Tsukasa)

Unfortunately, I don't actually know why Tsukasa is hurting him. We know so little, it's still possible it isn't him. But we also haven't seen Amane interact with Tsukasa during the time period in which we know he was being injured. This seems... intentional, to me. As if Tsukasa were somehow involved, in one way or another.

Something to consider, though, is that Amane was being injured around the time he turned thirteen. The 1968 school festival is only about two months before his 13th birthday. Thanks to Kou, we know that Tsukasa knows Amane is going to kill him and commit suicide when he turns thirteen. I'm not necessarily saying that this is why Tsukasa would have hurt him, but it's interesting, to say the least.

Anyway, this last part is a lot of conjecture, so I've separated it from what I view as actual facts about the person hurting Amane. But what do you all think?

#toilet bound hanako kun #tbhk #jshk

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i-was-a-teenage-eldritch-horror · 6 months

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Read Jeff Kass' Columbine: A True Crime Story the other day (this is the best, most factual English-language book on the subject; Cullen's book is basically his fanfic in many respects), and came across this interesting bit:

The context is that Kass is discussing why it is that girls are more likely to spot warning signs of school shooters (gender is such a huge component of this problem, yet there is so little discussion of it, so I really respect Kass for even including this brief bit in his book).

Since then, I've been thinking about this concept of feminine social responsibility in a more general sense and how it relates to the Eva women.

Ritsuko pays no mind to questions of right and wrong. She facilitates Third Impact with impartiality and only attempts to thwarts it to hurt Gendo after she decides the events of episode 23 are the last straw. Ritsuko reveals the truth of Rei, all the cruelty and all the facade, to Misato and Shinji for her own personal catharsis -- not for Rei or anyone else's material benefit. Not even her own, really, since this results in Gendo putting her in what basically amounts to solitary confinement. The most "responsible" thing Ritsuko does in the series is probably chastising Misato for her off-color and concerning jokes about SA towards Shinji in episode 2, but even that feels like a slap in the face after finding out her complicity in Gendo's abuse of Rei. Ritsuko knows she's doing ~bad~ things and loses no sleep over it until she can no longer deny that she's been hurt by this arrangement, and even then, the morals aren't her concern -- only that she can no longer bury this pain.

Naoko fits into this in much the same way -- her research into Rei mirror's Misato's research, yet Naoko ultimately copes with the suspicion that something is amiss in the same way that Ritsuko copes with the certainty and acceptance that there is -- by killing Rei. Naoko's interaction with Rei is, fittingly, much more personal -- Naoko kills with her bare hands; Ritsuko does so with the push of a button. Additionally, there's not really anything to suggest that Naoko was planning on doing anything with her information on Rei -- the murder was committed on impulse. If Ritsuko does an arguably materially good act for selfish reasons, then Naoko does a needlessly cruel act for selfish reasons. This situation is less nuanced.

Maya probably showcases this feminine social responsibility the most out of the Eva women -- she stands up to Gendo and tries to police Ritsuko in much the same way that Misato and Ritsuko try to police each other. Cracks begin to form for Maya, too, but she resigns herself to continue going with the program, unlike Misato, who is at least genuinely curious and does her own independent research.

Misato is hawkish and, much like Maya, wholeheartedly believes that NERV is a net positive for the world. But when Kaji reveals the Adam-Lilith switcharoo in episode 15, Misato's worldview begins to crack. Yet she quietly sits on this information, barely discussing it with Kaji. Her most significant interactions regarding this are with Ritsuko, whom she batters over these doubts as she refuses to accept partial blame for Shinji's potential demise in episode 16. Misato's ego is bruised by Kaji's revelation to her, because it pokes holes in the myth that fuels her life's purpose. Ultimately, the concern boomerangs back to Misato herself, rather than the pilots or the millions of people around the world who are starving because governments' budgets are drained from supporting NERV. The difference between Misato and Ritsuko is that Ritsuko is under no impression that she's "good." Misato is.

Now we come to Yui. Like Naoko, her actions are really only to fuel her own desires and ego -- Misato and Ritsuko are more nuanced than Naoko and Yui. Yui waxes poetic about the moon, stars, happiness, etc. but ultimately...her master plan was not concocted for any noble reason, but rather, to serve herself.

Kaji, interestingly, does display social responsibility. He tells Misato the truth about Adam/Lilith out of the goodness of his heart; not for any ulterior motive. His research and status as a triple agent stems from his genuine desire for the truth. Unlike Misato, his worldview is not based on either side of the coin. Unlike Ritsuko, Kaji is actively trying to thwart the wrongs he's forced to do as part of his job, and it costs him his life. This is not the only time that Kaji is assigned a typically feminine role/trait/status, etc.

I have not discussed Asuka and Rei here for a few reasons. One is that their responsibilities are less nuanced (though significantly heavier in many ways) than that of the women -- which makes sense, being that they're teenagers. Another reason is that, unlike Yui, Naoko, Maya, Ritsuko, and Misato, Asuka and Rei never commit any grave wrongdoings throughout the series. At worst they are a little annoying or slightly rude.

#originals #nge #neon genesis evangelion #evangelion #eva #eoe #end of eva #end of evangelion #ritsuko akagi #maya ibuki #misato katsuragi #naoko akagi #yui ikari #ryoji kaji #ask to tag

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perplexedhare · 4 months

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I saw your ror post and I just wanted to say

Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you–*is slowly pulled away by the fandom police*

Seriously though, it bothered me so much that there weren't any goddesses with actual roles cause you guys show Apollo but not Artemis??? Where's Athena! Or the baddest bitch, Ishtar?? Izanagi or Amaterasu when Susano is there?

WHERE'S PERSEPHONE????????!!!!!!!

ALSO! A good theory regarding Jack the Ripper is that he was actually a WOMAN which is why they were never caught. No woman could possibly be educated or blood-thirsty enough to commit this crime! Of course not!

Marie Curie was a side character, damnit!

What about Cleopatra? Joan of Arc?

There's so many badass women in history and they aren't being highlighted enough!

Sorry for ranting, ROR just frustrates me despite being such an interesting concept. Tbf, a lot of anime and manga have the same issue regarding women, so maybe I should be used to it by now

Thanks ahah and don't apologize, you're totally right !!

Of any fighting manga I've read, RoR has the weakest excuse for its lack of female fighters : The Ragnarok is supposed to feature the most powerful deities/humans that have ever existed but we're supposed to believe that out of over 26 fighters, not even one of them is a woman ?

And here it's just my opinion but there's no way Apollo was a much better choice for the roster than fucking Artemis. Okay he turned out to be a great character (one of my favorites actually) and he's also known in mythology as the god of archery but Artemis is literally the goddess of the hunt.

And even if she doesn't fight, AT LEAST give her some screentime in her brother's backstory or a cameo in the crowd, something ! At what point do you just turn her into some weird-ass statue ? What's the point of talking about myths if you're cutting out half of them ?

Plus like you said, concerning the other female deities it's just as annoying : Athena is never mentioned once ; Persephone and Demeter are just Poseidon and Hades' move names ; Hera is barely referred during Heracles' backstory and only for the writers to imply that she died a long time ago, talk about a waste.

Not to mention that as you pointed out, even on the human side there were plenty of candidates with a lot of potential.

Now I still love RoR don't get me wrong but at this point, I no longer have any expectations from its authors on this aspect. I can already bet that Izanami and Amaterasu will be the names of either Susanoo's swords or his special moves.

That's why if you or anyone else is looking for a manga similar to RoR that does more to showcase historical women, I recommend you to try Majo Taisen.

It has its issues with its lack of poc characters' representation and its portrayal of Cleopatra but it's still really enjoyable and its authors understood that History is full of badass and amazing women who also deserve the spotlight

#record of ragnarok #ror hades #ror poseidon #ror apollo #snv hades #snv poseidon #snv apollo #majo taisen #war of greedy witches #ror #snv #shuumatsu no valkyrie #rant post

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froggywritesstuff · 1 year

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red is so your colour | yandere!amber freeman

Pairing: yandere!Amber Freeman x g/n!reader

Warnings: character death, mentions of murdering, blood, knives, stabbing, degradation, non consensual kissing, mentions of sex, implied future kidnapping, unhealthy relationships, swearing, mentions of cheating (please do not read if you are uncomfortable with any of these)

Fandom: Scream

Request: no

A/N: i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life

Amber could be very confusing. Now, you loved her more than anything in the world, but you genuinely had no idea how to act when she would randomly accuse you of being unfaithful. Every time she did it (and there were a lot of times) you told her over and over again how much you love her and how you'd never cheat on her, but this time, she went too far.

Recently there had been hundreds of news reports about another 'Ghostface' in the town who was going on a murdering spree. Everyone was on edge. Your friend group made a plan to always tell at least one person whenever one of you would leave to go out on your own, then if you didn't tell someone when you were back home in over half an hour, they'd all go looking for you. It gave everyone some false sense of calmness while more dead bodies were reported. That sense was immediately shattered when Chad's girlfriend Liv was reported dead.

If that didn't make you feel shitty enough, you were now dealing with Amber on your case for some reason.

"Y/N, why won't you just answer the fucking question?!"

You stared at her in disbelief, "I have Amber. And I'll give you the same answer I gave you the last four fucking times; I did not want to sleep with Liv."

"I want you to tell me the truth this time." she pressed, looking at you like she had watched you commit the worst of crimes in front of her, "You always acted different whenever she was around, you've barely been talking to me these last couple of weeks."

You clenched your jaw at her accusations, pulling your phone out of your pocket and pulling up your messages, "I've barely been talking to you? Well what the fuck are all these then?" you gestured to the endless amounts of texts you two had been sending each other. You could scroll for hours and you'd probably only make it to last week's conversations. The thought of that made your heart pang. You loved Amber with all your heart, but the way she was looking at you made you question that statement.

She just rolled her eyes at the messages, "Ok, well can you explain why Liv always looked at you like she wanted to fuck you?"

You stared blankly, not having the energy to show your anger, "No. Because she never did that. But can you explain why our friend is dead and all you're thinking about is whether I was cheating on you?"

Her eyes widened, "Oh, I just thought you had the hots for her but now you were cheating on her? Wow-"

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut tight, "Amber I'm done."

Her face fell, "What?"

"I said I'm fucking done. I'm not going to stand here and listen to you accuse me of this shit."

"You're not breaking up with me." you would've thought she meant that to be a question but her tone sounded certain.

"Yeah, I am." you sighed, turning around and walking for the door. Your heart felt heavy as you reached for the door handle, before a loud scream ripped from your throat. A knife was stabbed all the way through your hand going into the door.

"No. You're not."

Your heart rate sped as you felt Amber's chest against your back, her arm snaking around your waist to hold you tighter to her. Not like she needed to.

Millions of thoughts ran through your mind. You wanted to say everything that came to your mind, but all those thoughts just muddled into one as you slowly breathed out, "Amber?"

"Wow, I was more convincing than I thought. I thought for sure you would've figured out I was Ghostface by now. Guess you're dumber than I thought."

Your breath came out heavy, still trying to process everything, "Why... why did you..." you winced as you heard Amber's sharp voice in your ear.

"What was that?" Ignoring your screams of pain, she ripped the knife out of your hand, grabbed your shoulder to turn you to face her, and stabbed your hand again through the palm of your hand. Her hand gripped your jaw tightly, pulling you against the knife that held your hand in place, "Cat got your tongue? Oh but you were so mouthy before, weren't you?"

"Why did you kill them?" you breathed out, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

Amber smiled, looking at you like you were a pathetic, lost puppy, "Speak up babe. What's the point of your pretty voice if I can't hear it?"

”Wh-why did you kill them?”

Her smile fell, before she laughed, “Wow you really are dumb,” she brushed the pad of her thumb over your quivering lip, “don’t worry, with me you won’t have to worry about being smart.” you felt like your heart would beat right out of your chest. What did she mean ‘with me’? You had no idea what she was capable of, “And I thought this was obvious but apparently not, but I killed everyone for you.”

Your eyes widened, “Wha-what?”

”Well for us, technically. Baby there are so many people who wanna get in the way of us, I couldn’t let that happen. Like that bitch from your English class who wouldn’t get her hands off you,” you remembered her. Specifically Amber asking you about her. By ‘she wouldn’t get her hands off you’ she meant ‘handed you a book once’. “That slut had it coming.”

A tear fell from your eye which she wiped away with her thumb, “Aw, Y/N, why didn’t you tell me how pretty you look when you cry?” she cooed. The tone of her voice was sweet, though her words had the opposite effect on you. With no warning, she ripped the knife from your hand, before slashing it across your stomach, smiling as crimson blood splashed onto her face. A laugh escaped her lips, “I would’ve made you cry way earlier.”

You however, were in no laughing mood. You clutched your stomach in pain, legs so shaky you feared they would buckle down and let you fall to the ground, ”Just- just kill me already.” you cried.

Amber rolled her eyes, “God you’re pathetic. I’m not gonna kill you, dumby. I love you too much for that.” she stared at you, before grabbing your chin and lifting your head slightly, “And you look way too fuckable in this position right now.” she brought her knee up to your crotch area and laughed as you quickly pulled yourself away from her, cupping your cheek with her hand, “Calm down baby, I won’t do that now.”

She moved her hand, before noticing the blood red stain it made on your cheek. She brought the knife up to your face -heart fluttering when you flinched- and smeared the red liquid against your cheek with a wide smile. Pulling you toward her, she smashed her lips against yours, deepening the kiss at the sound of your muffled cries.

“Red is so your colour baby.”

buy me a coffee <3

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