Tw: Violence - Blog Posts
"ohhh this strange beast drains the blood of it's victims and looks like a big cat" listen im just down to believe in cryptids as the next guy, more even, but thats the description of so many "strange beasts that couldn't be any known species" at this point and not enough people are addressing the fact that BIG CATS TEND TO GO FOR THROATS, WHEN YOU PEIRCE A THROAT IT TENDS TO DRAIN BLOOD VERY FAST!!!!
^!!!!!!!
also unrelated but i love the word exsanguination, one of my favourite words of all time, along with chutzpah and pizzazz
would you still love me if i posted nightcore leverage video edits
i’m not an edit creator usually so it’s not amazing but i really liked this idea so i gave it a shot
I wish there was a Eliot Spencer video edit put to 'I Need a Hero' by Bonnie Tyler. Please it would be epic.
OKAY, so I was a bit antsy about posting this but hopefully I got the tw tags right? If there’s anything else I need to / can do to prevent this from reaching people sensitive to blood or gore let me know!!
It’s just a bit of medic fanart, but I’m still getting used to this site so I don’t know how much forewarning is needed.
Oh btw! Someone sent in an ask so hopefully I’ll have some headcanons out soon. Heads up though, school is on weekdays obv and that’s when I usually write chapters for tens a crowd, so I don’t know if posts will be as common during those times!
The blood that drips down your chin is sickly sweet and metallic and oh so familiar. You're not sure you remember who it belongs to anymore. You have nothing in your skull, besides your name and a headache. But you are in danger.
Say your name aloud. You still have part of yourself.
The Dark Urge. Whatever that is. That is you. You will claw back the truth, but first you have to claw your way out of here
HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS STORY HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BE A MURDER MYSTERY
They Tell Me That It's Good For Me
Zeke Yeager x f!reader Genre: Smut Notes: It’s hip to be square… Warnings: 18+, dubcon, cheating, violence, murder, mental health issues, vaginal sex. Lmk if I missed any. Words: 4k
Zeke resented his brother, Eren. The brunette being ten years his junior made him wonder who he thinks he is to be telling him what to do. He’s a doctor, and yet Eren seems to think it’s a good idea that he go to therapy? Family therapy, at that. It’s just the two of them sitting in the office on account of their parents being dead. The therapist immediately senses hostility in Zeke. A reluctance to be a part of this ridiculous practice. Eren disagrees, though. His temper around their penthouse recently has been less than pleasurable.
“What does a regular day in the life of Zeke Yeager look like?” the therapist asks. Zeke’s eyes roll so violently, they flutter manically. He adjusts his seating position, pulling up his trousers slightly as he crosses one leg over the other and sinks back into the armchair. He’s a picture of perfect coolness as he rakes his fingers through his hair and thinks about his answer.
A day in the life of Zeke Yeager.
He lives in one of the most expensive properties in the city. The name Zeke Yeager is one of renown and respect. An excellent doctor who studied under his father, Grisha, a title and career he achieved and solidified all before turning twenty-nine. Self-care is very important to Zeke. He likes women, you see, and being in his line of work can be incredibly stressful and taxing on your appearance. He knows every trick and technique to prolong his youth and prevent wrinkles for as long as possible. His morning regime can be gruesome, as if the poor man isn’t tired enough. But it’s all worth it to look how he does.
Not many people see his body under his work uniform, but it’s often a surprise to many when they realise how perfectly sculpted and chiselled he is. Taking care of himself can’t just stop at using specific creams and scrubs on his soft skin to prolong his youth. A balanced diet and exercise play a crucial role in it all, too. The exercise is probably the most irritating part of his morning routine to Eren. For some reason his elder brother insists on playing porno tapes on the TV at full volume while he works out. The sounds of women’s moans incentivise him, apparently. It doesn’t stop it from being irritating, though.
Zeke Yeager is successful in every way that an individual can be. He’s wealthy, he has a good job, good looks that attract enough women to placate his salacious desires. And even a brother who, whilst they annoy each other to the brink of self-detonation, they care for each other.
But it’s not enough for Zeke Yeager. He’s a shell of a man. No matter how much money he has, there’s always someone with more money. Despite him being magnificent at his job, there will always be someone somewhat superior to him. Regardless of which woman he takes to bed, there’s always a man with a sexier woman and a hotter cunt than what he’s going to devour and enjoy.
Zeke Yeager exists, but only barely.
“This was a stupid idea, Eren. I don’t need a shrink, I myself am a doctor, you know.” he talks to his brother in the chair beside his own. Zeke doesn’t get a response, but he notices the therapist begin to scribble down notes in their little book.
“I’d rather you not talk to Eren, Zeke. Focus on me. I’d like you to tell me why you’re here. What has been going on in the last few months?” the therapist speaks. Zeke runs his tongue along his top row of teeth as he contemplates the question. He’d have to ask Eren why they’re here, but now it turns out they aren’t even allowed to speak with each other.
“My life isn’t as interesting as you might think. I work. I go for the occasional drink with colleagues or my brother. I go home and enjoy video tapes and then return them when I’m finished with them.” he explains, prompting the therapist to write down more notes.
“Video tapes. I must say, from what I’ve seen and heard you watch quite a substantial amount of pornography films. Do you think you have a porn addiction?”
“No.”
“No?”
“That’s what I said.”
The therapist takes her time writing his response. It’s quite difficult to make Zeke feel uneasy, but the radio silence for five minutes straight filled with only the sound of a ballpoint scratching on paper fills him with unease. He feels like he’s on trial. Part of him wants to clear his throat, but he doesn’t wish to give the therapist the satisfaction of thinking she’s rattled him. Or worse, she’s won.
“I’d like to know about your sexual history. At what age did you lose your virginity and how frequently do you engage in sexual intercourse?” she asks him. This makes Zeke scoff. It’s not something he cares to divulge with a stranger. He sees Eren scowling at him and shakes his head unimpressed.
“I was seventeen. And I couldn’t say how often, truthfully. I like women, I’d say I have sex more than most.”
“Do you ever pay for it?”
“Is that relevant? I don’t see how that matters.” Zeke answers her question defensively, earning another series of notes appearing on the paper in front of her. “Sometimes I do, yes.” he adds, and she writes it down.
“Outside of sex, what else do you do for fun?”
“I can’t think, right now. I’ve told you a few things, I think we should move on.” he suggests. She smiles, crossing one leg over the other and nodding in agreement. He isn’t sure about therapy; he never has been. The idea of someone getting inside of his mind and trying to unearth secrets and fantasies that he may not even know about himself is terrifying.
“Do you get along with Eren’s fiancé?” she asks. Now Zeke does clear his throat. He unfolds his legs and leans forward in his seat pressing his fingertips against one another as he thinks of how he should answer.
“I don’t think we should discuss this.”
“You have a fiancé, don’t you?” she pushes. Zeke grimaces and nods. This must be why Eren brought him here. He looks over his shoulder in Eren’s direction, and he can barely look at him. He’s been a terrible older brother. So selfish and insufferable. But Zeke has never claimed to be selfless. What Zeke wants, Zeke gets.
“I stole Eren’s fiancé, yes, if we must talk about it then sure. It wasn’t a particularly nice thing to do, but I—” she stops him from saying another word by raising her hand as she writes again. He waits patiently for her to finish so that she can ask another question or wait for him to continue.
“Do you recognise this woman?” she asks as she places a polaroid on the coffee table in front of them. Zeke leans forwards to pick the image up and pushes his glasses further up his nose so he can get a proper look. He shakes his head, placing it back down and pushing it towards her.
“What about this woman? Or this woman? Maybe this one?” she fires off as she places another three images down on the table. He looks at them all intently, once again shaking his head as he pushes them back at her.
“I don’t recognise any of them. What about you, Eren?” he asks his brother, he’s still scowling at them. He thought they were on better terms since he stole you away from him. Apparently not. The therapist clicks her fingers and reminds him not to talk to Eren.
“That’s a shame. I had hoped you could help me, they’re all deceased, you see. Quite grisly murders, actually.” she tells him, not even looking at him as she focuses on her note taking. It scares Zeke to hear. Four women murdered. It’s a scary world to live in. It’s enough to encourage him to light up a cigarette and get comfier in his seat as he digests the information.
“That’s horrible. All the same killer, you think? Or—”
“What do you like to do for fun, Zeke?” the therapist asks him again. His eyes scrunch as he wonders if he heard her right. Haven’t they been over this already? Why does she keep asking?
“I… I enjoy eating. There is a restaurant in the city that is difficult to get on the guest list for, but they usually make an exception for my colleagues and I. That could be considered fun.” he tells her. She doesn’t bother writing it down, which makes him feel like he’s said something boring. Or something wrong entirely.
“I assume you and your fiancé have a considerable amount of sex? How much, would you say?” she queries. Zeke scratches his beard as he thinks about it. He pushes his glasses a little way up his nose, again, before answering.
“Not as much recently. Three times a week, possibly? Work is exhausting. I’d never be off her if I had the choice.” he confesses. That is something she deems necessary to write down. She even pouts as she does, like she’s really concentrating on getting every single word perfect.
“Do you cheat on her? You sometimes pay for prostitutes, have you done that since you became engaged?” she asks him. He looks down, awkwardly, and concentrates on the sounds of his bones cracking as he crushes his knuckles. He sighs, though, preparing to answer yet again.
“Unfortunately I do. I’m not proud of it, it doesn’t mean I love her any less.” he explains, trying his very best to justify himself and his abhorrent behaviour. She’s writing yet again. He notices the way her eyes harshen when she’s writing something particularly juicy, otherwise her brows remain relaxed and her eyes almost appear lifeless.
“What do you do for fun, Zeke?”
“Why do you—? Music, I like listening to music at home. Dancing and a few drinks with the right music on is fun, for me.”
“Those four women were prostitutes.” she announces casually, scribbling some more and not making any form of eye contact as she speaks. Zeke’s jaw hangs low as he comes to realise what might be happening here.
“I feel like you’re accusing me of something.” he tells her. She doesn’t confirm nor deny. She simply keeps her eyes fixated on him as he begins to awkwardly laugh under her intimidating glare.
“Could you tell me about the first time you had sexual intercourse with your fiancé?”
Oh boy, could he. But should he? Would you approve of him diving into the intimate intricacies of your relationship and what you get up to between the sheets? It’ll be fine, he thinks, patient doctor confidentiality is a requirement. He knows that just as well as she does.
Eren had brought you home for the first time to introduce you to his brother. Zeke couldn’t believe how beautiful you were. From head to toe you were a total knockout. How a shit bag like Eren bagged a girl like you, he’ll never know. You spent the evening getting to know more about each other. About their family and their relationship with one another. It was sweet, you thought.
Zeke couldn’t keep his eyes off you, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Eren was the same, you were the only one who realised how intensely the brothers were staring at you. But of course, you didn’t comment on it. Instead, the three of you drank more and more. You drank the least, but it was still enough to feel tipsy.
Eren drank the most and he blacked out completely. Zeke had to carry him from the dining room chair to his bedroom. He landed on the soft mattress and bounced a little when Zeke let him fall from his arms.
“I think you like me, Zeke.” you said. He smirked immediately and you noticed his face go a little red. You stepped a little closer towards him, unable to keep away from his magnetic charm. “Am I… right? To think that.” you questioned. He shook his head, you were perfectly correct.
“I like the idea of bending you over and seeing what you look like stuffed full of me. If that means I like you, sure, I like you. But you’re with my little brother. I’m wondering why you’d ask a question like that when you’re engaged to him. Do you like me, too?”
You stood closer to him, wanting that to answer his question. It does. His hands moved around your neck and then one held the back of your head as he landed his lips on yours. It became heated quite quickly. Both of your hearts racing with adrenaline as you knew Eren could have woken up at any moment. He picked you up and made you wrap your legs around his waist so that he could carry you to his own bedroom.
You were set down and he pushed your body against his floor to ceiling mirror in his room. He dropped to the balls of his feet and then onto his knees, pulling your panties from underneath your skirt and tossing them over his shoulder. He nuzzled his face between your thighs and began to lick at your delicate, petalled flesh. Your little pearl was at his mercy, your hips bucking and stuttering with each suckle and slurp. He looked up at you, face and beard sparkling with pussy juice.
“Turn around, look at yourself.” he demanded. You did, and watched your own body as he began to undress you. He whispered under his breath. Mostly about how beautiful you were. He loved the way your face contorted when he spanked your ass. So, he did it again, and again, and again. “You look gorgeous when you hurt.”
That’s when he decided to soak his cock with your juices. He slid it up and down between your folds to make sure he was wet enough for you to take. He smoothed your hair back so you could both look at your face when he began to tear you apart with his thick cock.
“That’s it. Good girl, how’s the stretch feeling?”
“It— It hurts so good.” you moaned for him. It made him smile cockily. Of course it does. It was just what he wanted to hear.
He loved the way your jaw hung low and eyes were almost fully white as he ploughed into your little cunt. He adored that you didn’t care how fucking loud you were moaning on him, it didn’t bother you that Eren was in the next room. It was euphoric when you began to tighten on him like the little whore you are. You angled your body slightly so that you could face him. Kiss him. He was hitting your sweet spot so perfectly, you scratched down his defined back and earned a cat-like hiss from your soon to be brother in law.
“Fucking bitch, are you gonna cum?” he asked. You nodded like a fool. So damn close. He watched your pretty O face as you hit your peak. It was an inspired idea that he had decided to fuck you in front of the mirror. He doesn’t think he would have been able to examine your reactions and responses as perfectly as he did if he was facing you directly.
He didn’t let you relax as you came down from your high, though. He held your head in place and insisted you look at him as he fills your cunt up with himself. He’s giving you everything he has, the least you can do is admire him as he does so.
“You came in her?” the therapist asks, Zeke nods a little too proudly in front of his sibling. “Interesting.”
“Is it?”
“Did you cum in these four women that you fucked?” she asks him as she spreads the photographs out on the coffee table for a second time. He leans forward and looks at them again. He only shrugs his shoulders, though.
“Maybe. It’s likely. I don’t usually like to pull out or wear protection.” he tells her. She writes that down. Zeke isn’t afraid anymore, he’s starting to get agitated. “How much longer is this session?”
“What do you do for fun, Zeke?”
“Are you aware of how many times you’ve asked me this question?” he answers her question with his own. He pushes his hair back again as he slinks back into his seat. She isn’t done with him, though, he can tell that much by her demeanour.
“That’s not how things ended with your fiancé though, is it? How did it end?”
“Eren here caught us, unsurprisingly.”
“That isn’t what I was referring to. He wouldn’t have caught you if your fiancé wasn’t screaming.”
“Screaming?”
“Screaming, Zeke. Don’t you remember?” he shakes his head at her question. He remembers nothing of the sort. She didn’t scream. He would remember that. Wouldn’t he? He’d remember if she was screaming. “I think you’re confused. Are you confused, Zeke?”
“Very. I wouldn’t make her scream, only in a good way. Why would she be screaming?” he questions. She flips through her notebook and leans her body forward so that Zeke knows she’s reading directly to him.
“She claims the sex was indeed consensual. She instigated it and she enjoyed it until the screaming started. Can’t you remember? Can’t you try and remember why she was screaming?” she talks at him, he shakes his head again. His mind is blank. Is he going insane? “You’ve been referring to her as your fiancé. She’s nothing of the sort. You don’t have sex three times a week, you had sex that one time.”
“No,”
“Yes, Zeke,” she insists as she flips through her notes again. Instead of reading, she had another polaroid image to show him. “Might this jog your memory?” she asks, placing it above the other images.
It’s you. All bloody and cut to ribbons. He can’t believe what he’s seeing. You’re so beautiful but so broken. Who could do this to you?
“Jesus, what happened to her? Can I see her?”
“What do you do for fun, Zeke?”
“Stop asking me that! I want to know what happened to my fiancé! I need to see her!” he raises his voice, momentarily standing from his seat before the therapists scalding glare forces him back into his seat.
“You happened to her. Shall I read her statement to you?” she queries, flipping through her papers until she finds your handwriting. She clears her throat as she prepares to speak. Zeke looks terrified. He doesn’t know you or himself. “We were flirting discretely over dinner. When Eren went to bed it got more intense and I knew I wanted to have sex with him, so we did. We were against the mirror in his bedroom and he performed oral sex on me. He made me look at myself as we had sex and it was pleasant. Until he snapped. I think the change happened when I scratched his back. He started calling me names and he became rougher with me. As he began to climax, he pushed my head against the mirror and told me that I need to see how a whore takes his cum. He didn’t stop pushing and that’s when I started screaming. He pushed so hard that the glass broke, shards entering and slicing the skin on my face. That’s when Eren came in.”
She finishes speaking and looks at Zeke incredulously. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t believe you would tell such a vicious lie. Are you trying to ruin him to save your reputation? You’re his fiancé now, why would you do such a thing?
“I wouldn’t— I would not do that.”
“What do you like to do for fun?”
“Are you listening to me? I did not fucking hurt that girl, I love her. We’re happy.” Zeke expressed pathetically. It was obvious to him that she wasn’t buying it, though. But who was she going to believe? Women stick together in times like these.
“What happened between you and Eren when he found the two of you?”
“We argued but, everything is fine now, right Eren?” Zeke asks his brother. He simply shakes his head, remaining completely silent as he does. “I don’t— I don’t understand what is happening.”
“Are you sure you don’t remember what you did to her? Or if you slept with these prostitutes?” she goads him, but he shakes his head in utter refusal. When will this end? “You aren’t yourself right now, Zeke.”
“Fuck you.” he spits at her. She only smiles.
“Do you remember hurting your brother?”
“Aren’t therapists supposed to help people? Are you trying to make me lose my mind?”
“He came in to see what all of the ruckus was about when his fiancé was screaming. You picked up a huge shard of mirror glass and pinned him to the armchair and stabbed him again and again. You don’t remember killing your brother?” she explains. He scoffs at that.
“Eren isn’t dead, he’s right here. Are you stupid?”
“Zeke, tell me what you like doing for fun.”
“No! What the fuck is the matter with you? You’re making up lies about my fiancé and my brother.”
“This girl here was stabbed. This one was chased and murdered with a chainsaw. This one was shot. This one was strangled. And you were the last person to see them all alive, after paying them for sex.”
“I don’t care about them. I care about why the fuck you just told me my brother is dead.” he barks. She shakes her head and stares at him.
“You tried to kill Eren’s fiancé. She managed to get away and call the police. But it was too late for Eren, he’s dead.” she tells him yet again. He almost growls at her answer, unable to believe she’s still speaking so cruelly to him and his brother.
“Are you blind? He’s here. He’s literally right fucking h—” Zeke has to pause as he turns to face his brother one final time. He isn’t sitting beside him pulling sarcastic faces and refusing to speak. He isn’t disgusted with him after the therapist had dredged up their past and betrayals.
No.
Eren is dead. He is right next to Zeke, but he is dead. His head drooping backwards over the back of the arm chair with dozens of stab wounds in his neck and even more on his shoulders and down to his stomach. The large mirror shard is still lodged in his younger siblings’ neck. His head moves rigidly so he can face the therapist. He looks down at the coffee one final time. He remembers you. You only met one time and he fucked you stupid. He remembers smashing your head into the mirror. He remembers how badly he needed you and how tight you were around his cock. He’s even starting to remember the prostitutes. At this point, he’s crying. Not because he’s sad, he’s laughing maniacally. It’s all coming back.
Fuck.
Every single thing is coming back to him, now.
“What do you like to do for fun, Zeke?” she asks, one final time. He manages to still his laughter as he wipes away his tears. He has an answer for her now. He finally has an answer he thinks she’s going to like.
“I like killing people,” he laughs softly, smoking a cigarette he lights up. A cigarette he feels may be his final one for a long time. “I like killing people, for fun.”
© 2022 fuwushiguro
Incredibly traumatized Asian Clive Owen-aah DILF and his princess spawn in a weird padded sacrifice catsuit that will indeed shoot you before you finish the sentence “what are you gonna do shoot me” and then swing your severed head around like a fun egg basket by the hair and bash it into a wall
Rambling about Toga and Emi below
Toga and Emi! Originally, Emi wasn’t going to be related to Toga, but then I figured it’d be a great way to tie into the OG series by having Toga be her father. It was hard writing Toga as a shut father but the type where it’s semi-understandable and viably forgivable enough that they can slowly become better.
That being, originally he was just going to be absentee. But then I decided to base Toga off Brad Armstrong and realizing Toga’s perspective of Part 2, is basically: oh dear god my daughter who I’ve forced to stay inside a safe house for years has been “kidnapped” by that albino fugitive who had turned her into a killer! I will finally save her and make my life worth something in the end and get better and take her with me! And then by the time he does that or at least attempts to he gets fuckin tackled by his own daughter and gets all his shit beaten out of him by her.
To be fair though he did basically make Emi experience The Yellow Wallpaper: whole house edition and didn’t even let her go out for food, he does love her, it’s just he is absolutely horrible at saying stuff and doing stuff. There’s honestly so much “to be fair”s in this scenario.
Either way Emi prefers Zero (as her brother-figure) to the point where she’ll pull a Jesus and resurrect him and Toga helps cuz it’ll be the weirdest father-daughter bonding ever. I love them both tbh Toga’s a fuckin mess and Emi’s a mess that evolved into…dirt? Idk
" Yeesh... Talk about a mess~ "
TW: Blood and slight Gore, Bright Colours
@its-paperd is currently hosting a DTIYS for getting 400 followers (btw CONGRATS BRO!!!!! :D), so here's my entry! :>
I hope you like it, and the original post is here (<- hyperlink)
Today, I worked on my most disturbing writing project that, if illustrated, should look like this:
And then I walked past a mirror and realised that, I kid you not, I looked like this:
Fudging reindeer Christmas pyjama bottoms...
I should rebrand myself before people decide I'm the "last person you'd suspect"-type horror movie villain.
The last photo is blood-curdling
PLEASE.. Everyone..
SPEAK OUT!! SHARE EVERYWHERE & REBLOG!! SPREAD THE HASHTAGS!! FOR THE SAKE OF HUMANITY!! FOR PALESTINIANS!! 🇵🇸❤️
HELP THEM!!!!! 🙏💔
SAVE PALESTINE!!!
Hashtags:
#savesheikhjarrah
#SavePalestine
#PLM
#Save_sheikh_jarrah
#Palestinians
#PalestineNeedsHelp
#StopIsrael
FreeQudus
Qudus
#أنقذوا_حي_الشيخ_جراح
#القدس تنتفض
Warning! (Blood, war and violence trigger!)
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Tw/cw: anger, violence, slight death (murder?) mention, slight animal abuse mention (comparing ourselves to one), and if there are any others, please let us know.
Being angry sucks sometimes cause we can also get very aggressive (even if it's only in our mind), and it sucks.
Like, we don't really like getting so angry that we think about biting or scratching or even killing someone. But this is how our brain works sometimes.
Especially when it's "not that serious" or whatever. Like something "small" can also cause anger like this. We really are pretty similar to a cornered abused creature when we get angry at times.
- Shay 🐾
3rd & 4th poems to post. Posting these together cause they are related.
Tw/cw: violence(?), tearing skin, and bone mention.
Bare my Teeth and Tear 'my' Skin & Bare my Claws and Tear 'my' Skin
I want to bare my teeth
And tear at 'my' skin
Until all that's left
Is the bone underneath
For the bone will be
More right than the skin
Despite it still
Being wrong
But I cannot
For this body's
Teeth are not sharp
Enough to tear the skin
So I bare my teeth
At the image in the mirror
For it is wrong
It is not right
-------------------------------------------------------
I want to bare my claws
And tear at 'my' skin
Until all that's left
Is the bone underneath
For the bone will be
More right than the skin
Despite it still
Being wrong
But I cannot
For this body's
'Nails' are not sharp
Enough to tear the skin
So I bare my claws
At the image in the mirror
For it is wrong
It is not right
- Zuki Shay Lupo (They/it)
As much as the pandemic (and the rhetoric surrounding it) has contributed to recent hateful incidents against Asian Americans, this isn't anything new.
We've always heard derogatory comments.
We've always been told we don't belong.
We've always been objectified and harassed.
We've always been told to conform to white expectations.
We've always faced violent attacks.
We've always been told to abandon our culture to fit in.
We've always been viewed as "other" - and have been hurt a lot because of it.
I'm glad people are becoming more aware of the struggles that AAPI individuals face, but it's important to remember that this has been going on forever.
Found my peace when I lost my religion. All these years I wished I was different. But, oh, now I know.
I'm holy 'til you let me go
thinking about this scene from hunting for palismen. how Hunter so subtly moves his head when Belos strikes. how it seems he's rehearsed this hundreds of times. how he's clearly scared but not surprised. how his scar is actually probably a collection of scars instead of one big one.
[image ID 1: a digital drawing of Hunter's profile from the shoulders up. He has a neutral expression on his face. His scar is drawn as multiple cuts of varying shades of pink. The background is dark blue nearly black.]
[image ID 2: a screenshot from the episode Hunting for Palismen depicting Belos's cursed limb striking dangerously close to Hunter's face as he flinches.]
wadecalhoun:
Wade had garnered apprehension over this puerile and fanatical idea the entire night it had been concocted. He’d had his own passions and desires for destroying certain species but had learned, over time from Robin, how the fey had merely wished to live unbothered by society; integrated but never harmed. Theneras’ provocation, their senseless violence against Rome had pulled the trigger and sent a frenzied outlook onto Rome. A zealous approach from hunters who hungered for blood and destruction, intent on blind chaos rather than a pragmatic approach between the blurred lines of those who inflicted harm and those who projected peace. He already flinches as Robin’s wounded visage comes into view, averts his gaze as hands grab a hold of her.
These people, the Eye, are meant to be who he swears a blind allegiance to, but his motives have never been entrenched in mindlessly following a crowd. His story was a simple one, drowned in the blood of innocents, his lifestyle a collateral of the pain inflicted upon him. His family was murdered by a demon, destroyed from the inside out and it was within his due diligence to make that pain matter. Robin had approached him so compassionately when he’d come at her blindly with a knife all those years ago. She may have laughed in his face, defended herself, but she had come to teach him the nuances of species and he had to be grateful to her that Wade had merely survived so long based on her teachings.
Before Robin, Wade had been all ire and sinew; inflicting blind rage on demons and witches; sometimes species who likely weren’t either being caught up in his destructive path. She may not have realized she had honed in his abilities, made him a more adept hunter. He used to be able to brunt the injuries, smile through the stab wounds or vampire bites, broken bones and bloodied noses. Now, he’d learned to avoid them, play into the advantages he’d learned from Robin.
Wade clears his throat as the gaggle of Eye hunters he’d surrounded himself with make a mockery of Robin, laugh in her face. “Maybe she’s right, we dunno what waits inside.“ It’s a pathetic attempt to get them to quit while they’re ahead. The Forest will not welcome strangers and they reside on the border, Robin now a victim to their senseless games. They’re hardly listening to Wade, he’s never been a commanding authority figure and Wade takes a cowardly step back, merely overwhelmed, as he hears the flick of an iron switchblade.
...
Eight paltry words. That is what years of friendship had bought her, that is what the countless times she had saved his life had bought her. Eight fucking words. Eight words he hadn’t even meant. There is no attempt to command his fellow hunters, tension on his shoulders as he prepares to help her. Nothing but eight weakly said words said before stepping back and leaving her to the mercy of a crowd of merciless hunters. Now, more than ever, she understands Zahrya’s hate for humanity, for their weak hearts and loyalties. Now, more than ever, wishes she could keep that hate on her heart, but even now it fades as she looks at Wade an all she can feel is all encompassing grief.
She had thought — She had thought they were friends, she loves him as one. Loves him enough to make him a healing artifact, loves him enough to grant him passage unto their last defense, their last asylum, loves him enough to return to him time and time again to ensure he has been safe, that he was alright. Love and loyalty given freely over the years, because she has a kind heart that only wants to give, and yet all she has gotten as repayment is what? Empty promises to help with the drows, an infiltration when her kind is near extinction and nothing but eight fucking words to try and stop the hunters he has guided into her home.
Robin’s grief is so, that she fails to hear the iron switchblade, fails to see as it is aimed as her as she keeps her betrayed stare at Wade. Fails to do anything but to double in pain as it’s used to gut her as she screams at the searing pain trailing behind the blade. She doesn’t collapse unto herself, as she wishes, doesn’t wail aside from the first scream, keeping herself locked in place as she hears the distant echo of changelings and lycans approaching to hunt for trespassers and makes the decision to give her former friend one last kindness. Eyes raising up to meet Wade as she feels her blood leave her, she gives him a grim, sardonic smile.
“Run, Red Riding Hood, before the wolves and our protectors get you for this, run,” she says, words sharp and painful, coming out as a threat to those who do not know her, but as a warning meant to reach Wade’s ears and his ears alone.
Survive so that you can leave with your choices, traitor.
Shireen isn’t the only martyr today. The Occupation murdered in cold blood 18 years old Tha’er Yazuri. The videos of his mom giving him farewell are shattering.
Not to mention the home demolitions that happened in Silwan yesterday.
The world is watching our people in Palestine become homeless and get murdered every single day. Nothing is changing, it’s so easy to forget about their pain. And then you blame Palestinians for picking up guns and fighting the settler colonial Occupation. I realize that people can’t care about everything happening everywhere but if you live in a country where your government is actively selling weapons to israel, or supporting them in any way, white washing the war crimes in UN meetings, and you do nothing about it, you’re not innocent from this blood spilled every day.
I also hope you watch the videos shared online. I hope you see their blood. I hope their faces are printed in your head for weeks, just like we do. I hope this radicalizes you into supporting causes where everyone is watching but no one is willing to help. Keep talking about Palestine until it’s free.
End the Occupation. Free Palestine.
