#Terrorism & Natural Disaster

[raviollies]

I love Theta as a character so much, I have to use her very sparingly so she doesn't lose the impact with her every appearance since the terror she strikes into the party the moment she's even referenced is so delicious

[askdarkermatters]

End of arc 1!

[slapdashboard]

Making fun of mass tragedies doesn’t make you a rebel or a comedian, it makes you an asshole and probably a bad person.

[tuttle-did-it]

Here's my thing. When someone, say in their 70s or 80s, can go off and be horrible- racist, sexist, transphobic, homophobic or queerphobic in general, fascist, islamophobic, anti-Semitic, etc. Just generally horrible.

All I think of when I meet these horrible people is,

'You saw Kennedy and MLKs assassinations. You did not change.'

'you went through the entire Civil Rights movement, and you didn't change.'

'You saw the space race, you did not change.'

'You sat through the Stonewall Riots, and you didn't change.'

'You saw Women's Lib and Second Wave feminism. You did not change.'

'You went through the anti-Vietnam war era, and you didn't change.'

'You went through the AIDs era, and you didn't change.'

'You saw Rodney King beat to death, and you didn't change.'

'You saw the IRA Troubles era, and you didn't change.'

'You saw the Berlin Wall fall, and the collapse of the Cold War with the Soviet Union, and you still didn't change.'

'You saw 11 September attacks, you saw all the terrorist attacks on London. The constant global climate change resulting in hurricanes, tsunamis, floods, and more. The horrors in Darfur. You did not change.'

'You lived through the global economic crisis, The Boston Marathon, Occupy Wall Street, The Black Lives Matter movement, #MeToo, the constant fires and floods due to climate change, Brexshit, constant school shootings, constant shootings everywhere and a fucking pendemic. and you have not changed.'

My only conclusion to all of this?

You CHOOSE NOT TO CHANGE. How can ANYONE go through all of this and NOT change?? Not become MORE concerned about the people around you, whatever their colour, disability, sexuality, gender, ethnicity, religion, politics? How can you NOT become more concerned about the world around you? How can you go through all of this and still have the same attitudes and opinions you did in 1954??

When someone says to me, 'oh, he's an old man, he's got old-fashioned ideas.' What that says to me is that that person went through at least 7 decades without learning a single thing.

Age is never an excuse. Norman Lear was 101 when he died just a few days ago. He was fighting for decades to try to bring attention to the struggles of women, people of colour, disabled people, and queer people. He is responsible for some of the most groundbreaking television in history-- including the first uncloseted gay characters, drag queens and Black trans women. At 101, just a few months ago, he was trying to get at least two shows about being queer greenlit for production. He continued to learn and grow and adapt and change with time. He allowed time to touch him. He allowed time to change him. He chose to change and keep growing and learning.

So if Norman Lear, at a 101, can understand pronouns, neopronouns, gender dysphoria, poverty, PTSD, struggles ofr people of colour, sexuality-- if he can understand all of that?? and these idiots are still ranting about the ~woke~? You know what? I've just got nothing to say to them.

The next time someone tells you to be patient because 'that person is in their 70s,' Think of all of this that they have refused to change with the times. This is their choice. Because I don't know about you, but the stuff on this list that I have lived through? Has changed me a lot. And it should.

It's very possible that the only way to ensure you don't become a conservative old person is to keep checking whether you're wrong. Every time. Genuinely mull over the opposing viewpoint even and especially when it's uncomfortable. You absolutely cannot a) consider yourself safely incapable of terrible principles because you're a good person, or b) treat a your disgust reaction to something as a moral truth. You can't get comfortable. Tiring! But you'd rather be tired and choose the right path, you know?

[divinekangaroo]

Seeking Dragon Age fanfic that lean hard on the horror-zombie aspect of darkspawn, finding next to nothing

[good-night-space-kid]

Disaster shows are to me what true crime is to others

[blown-blooms]

Every time I post something in the terror tag I'm always worried I'm gonna get a bad grade in terrorposting, which is both normal to fear and possible to achieve. Everyone is just so cool and smart and knowledgeable and it intimidates me.

[hussyknee]

If you had actually been paying attention to Gaza instead of using them for your own fuckwitted agenda you would know that they've been telling us to fucking stop participating in this Western grift of "humanitarian aid" when nothing can get through the blockades and all they have to get all of this to stop is to call a ceasefire. It is utterly depraved to offer """aid""" especially via donations when the US is sending BILLIONS to Israel to continue dropping a quantity of bombs twice the size of Hiroshima. They do not have food or water because not only did Israel pour concrete in the wells and cut off water and electricity but they're bombing the remaining stores of grain and solar panels and fishing boats. They have nothing to eat or drink and Biden's not even pushing for that "'''''humanitarian pause""""" let alone ceasefire and there's no way you could get enough aid for two million people with tens of thousands gravely injured to them even if the blockades opened tomorrow. In fact Gazans on social media screaming for help while death rains from the skies keep seeing posts for useless donations (so that they can be blown up in comfort I guess) like some kind of sick joke and it's rightfully starting to make them hate us. So fucking stop using people who are actively being genocided by your country for whatever petty asshole fandom clown discourse you're fixated on and get out there AND PROTEST FOR A GODDAMN CEASEFIRE.

This entire fandom discourse from BOTH ENDS is just a self-serving grift. Black and brown lives are mere props for all of you to use and ignore whenever you feel like it, rather than real, entire suffering human beings.

can i be real? i think ao3 should die for doing a donation pool for themselves with everything going on

[brexiiton]

Hawaii fires death toll climbs as residents tell of little warning before town engulfed

By Associated Press, 1:00am Aug 12, 2023

Hawaii emergency management records show no indication that warning sirens sounded before people ran for their lives from wildfires on Maui that killed at least 55 people and wiped out a historic town. Instead, officials sent alerts to mobile phones, televisions and radio stations - but widespread power and cellular outages may have limited their reach.

Hawaii boasts what the state describes as the largest integrated outdoor all-hazard public safety warning system in the world, with about 400 sirens positioned across the island chain to alert people to various natural disasters and other threats.

But many survivors said in interviews on Thursday (Friday AEST) that they didn't hear any sirens or receive a warning that gave them enough time to prepare and only realised they were in danger when they saw flames or heard explosions nearby.

Hawaii emergency management records show no indication that warning sirens were triggered before devastating fires killed at least 55 people and wiped out a historic town, officials confirmed (AP)

The blaze is already that state's deadliest natural disaster since 1960 tsunami, which killed 61 people on the Big Island. (AP)

The wildfires are the state's deadliest natural disaster since a 1960 tsunami that killed 61 people. An even deadlier tsunami in 1946, which killed more than 150 people on the Big Island, prompted the development of the territory-wide emergency system that includes the sirens, which are sounded monthly to test their readiness.

Governor Josh Green warned that the death toll would likely rise as search and rescue operations continue. Cadaver-sniffing dogs were brought in Friday to assist the search for the remains of people killed by the inferno, said Maui County Mayor Richard Bissen Jr.

Thomas Leonard, a 70-year-old retired mailman from centuries-old Lahaina, didn't know about the fire until he smelled smoke. Power and cellphone service had both gone out earlier Tuesday, leaving the town with no real-time information about the danger.

He tried to leave in his Jeep, but had to abandon the vehicle and run to the show when cars nearby began exploding. He hid behind a seawall for hours, the wind blowing hot ash and cinders over him.

Firefighters eventually arrived and escorted Leonard and other survivors through the flames to safety.

Fuelled by a dry summer and strong winds from a passing hurricane, at least three wildfires erupted on Maui this week, racing through parched brush covering the island. (AP)

Fuelled by a dry summer and strong winds from a passing hurricane, at least three wildfires erupted on Maui this week, racing through parched brush covering the island.

The most serious one left Lahaina a grid of grey, ashen rubble, wedged between the blue ocean and lush green slopes. Skeletal remains of buildings bowed under roofs that pancaked in the blaze. Palm trees were torched, boats in the harbour were scorched and the stench of burning lingered.

"Without a doubt, it feels like a bomb was dropped on Lahaina," the governor said after walking the ruins of the town Thursday morning with the mayor.

Firefighters managed to build perimeters around most of the Lahaina fire and another near the resort-filled area of Kihei, but they were still not fully contained as of Thursday afternoon.

Hawaii Emergency Management Agency spokesperson Adam Weintraub told The Associated Press that the department's records don't show that Maui's warning sirens were triggered on Tuesday, when the Lahaina fire began. Instead, the county used emergency alerts sent to mobile phones, televisions and radio stations, Weintraub said.

Myrna and Abraham Ah Hee stand in front of an evacuation centre at the War Memorial Gymnasium. (AP)

It's not clear if those alerts were sent before outages cut off most communication to Lahaina. Across the island, in fact, 911, landline and cellular service have failed at times.

Maui Fire Department Chief Brad Ventura said the fire moved so quickly from brush to neighbourhoods that it was impossible to get messages to the emergency management agencies responsible for alerts.

"What we experienced was such a fast-moving fire through the ... initial neighbourhood that caught fire they were basically self-evacuating with fairly little notice," Ventura said.

The blaze is the deadliest US wildfire since the 2018 Camp Fire in California, which killed at least 85 people and laid waste to the town of Paradise.

Lahaina's wildfire risk was well known. Maui County's hazard mitigation plan, last updated in 2020, identified Lahaina and other West Maui communities as having frequent wildfires and a large number of buildings at risk of wildfire damage.

The report also noted that West Maui had the island's second-highest rate of households without a vehicle and the highest rate of non-English speakers.

"This may limit the population's ability to receive, understand and take expedient action during hazard events," the plan noted.

The blaze is the deadliest US wildfire since the 2018 Camp Fire in California, which killed at least 85 people and laid waste to the town of Paradise. (AP)

Maui's firefighting efforts may also have been hampered by a small staff, said Bobby Lee, the president of the Hawaii Firefighters Association. There are a maximum of 65 firefighters working at any given time in Maui County, and they are responsible for fighting fires on three islands — Maui, Molokai and Lanai — he said.

Those crews have about 13 fire engines and two ladder trucks, but the department does not have any off-road vehicles, he said. That means fire crews can't attack brush fires thoroughly before they reach roads or populated areas.

High winds caused by Hurricane Dora made this week's task especially difficult. "You're basically dealing with trying to fight a blowtorch," Lee said.

The mayor said that as people attempted to flee Lahaina, downed power poles added to the chaos by cutting off two important roads out of town, including one to the airport. That left only one narrow, winding highway.

The hall of historic Waiola Church in Lahaina and nearby Lahaina Hongwanji Mission are engulfed in flames. (AP)

Marlon Vasquez, a 31-year-old cook from Guatemala who came to the US in January 2022, said that when he heard fire alarms, it was already too late to flee in his car.

"I opened the door, and the fire was almost on top of us," he said from an evacuation centre at a gymnasium. "We ran and ran. We ran almost the whole night and into the next day, because the fire didn't stop."

Vasquez and his brother Eduardo escaped via roads that were clogged with vehicles. The smoke was so toxic that he vomited. He said he's not sure his roommates and neighbours made it to safety.

Chelsey Vierra said Thursday that she didn't know if her great-grandmother, Louise Abihai, managed to escape her senior living facility, which witnesses saw erupt in flames.

"She doesn't have a phone. She's 97 years old," Vierra said. "She can walk. She is strong."

Firefighters managed to build perimeters around most of the Lahaina fire and another near the resort-filled area of Kihei, but they were still not fully contained Thursday afternoon. (AP)

Relatives were monitoring shelter lists and calling the hospital. "We don't know who to ask about where she went," said Vierra, who fled the flames.

President Joe Biden declared a major disaster on Maui on Thursday and promised to streamline requests for assistance to the island.

[sansculottides]

merry fitzier! 🌷🎄 (acrylic gouache on paper)

this is my terrormas gift for @peonychikh for the holiday exchange on the terror (2018) emotional support server! they asked for a happy fitzier piece with neptune :)

I wanted to paint them as if posing for a portrait, where propriety would have them present as ~very good friends~ lol. but there are enough hints as to the true nature of their relationship that a keen eye won't miss: crozier's hand draped over the chair, posed as if he had his arm around fitzjames's shoulders; shared colors in their outfits, especially the eye-catching blue; their heads are angled ever so slightly towards each other; matching rings (!!!!) and a matching set of tea cups that evoke their rings. those are fitzier tea cups.....

since this is a happy fix-it au I wanted to show how their loved ones figured into their lives too. there are watercolor portraits of blanky and jopson (done by fitzjames? who knows), a photograph of william coningham on the mantle, and goodsir's inuit dictionary, finally published, on fitzjames's lap.

a small painting of a house (their house? who knows!!!!) is placed higher than a painting of a stormy ship, because in this au they've chosen each other & the home they've made over returning to the navy. (there's another painting below that, it's just meant to be a random bouquet of flowers, sorry I didn't overthink this far lol)

even if this is a happy ending au, there are still reminders of disaster they could've had in the expedition. fitzjames keeps a hand on a cane, possibly haven't ever fully recovered from the weaknesses scurvy inflicted on his body. crozier keeps his left hand behind his back--did he lose it, like in the original ending? who knows! and I tried to make it subtle as to not ruin the mood of the piece too much, but the larger painting in the corner is a still life of fruits and a skull. life and death, memento mori...

hope it's not too silly that I overexplained this painting. since this is a gift I thought it'd be nice to show all my notes. I really hope you like it, peonychikh, and merry fitziermas!!!!!

[sweet-as-an-angel]

I read your yandere dilf post just before going to sleep and had a very interesting dream as a result: yandere Wild West Outlaw!

He takes you hostage to keep the rangers from going after him after a robbery. You’re tied up in front of him on his horse and after riding away from town for a long time he doesn’t set you down somewhere like you expected but takes you with him into his hideout.

Bonus: he‘s (basically) masked > bandana covering half his face and the rim of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes

Yandere Wild West Outlaw! Headcanons

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, Forced Proximity, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Masked Outlaw ;), Petnames, Killing, Mentions of Robbery, Non-Consensual Voyeurism/Surveillance, Description of Injury & Blood, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’, etc.

A/N: Anon, I am in love with this concept !

♡ Yandere Outlaw whose body encompasses yours, his chest to your back and his arms caging you as he grips the horse’s reigns, his breathing steady as if he hadn’t just committed a multitude of crimes. Then again, considering how proficient he was at wiping the inn clean of all its savings and tying you up on his horse before the rangers could even arrive, you suspected this was not the first time he’d done this. Nor would it be the last.

♡ Yandere Outlaw says very little after he abducted you, his last words being sharp commands, laden with a calmness you would never have expected from a man holding an entire building hostage.

♡ And, in your terror, you said nothing to him, your back to his front as he rode to nowhere discernible, the civilised, populated terrain of your home town having melted away hours ago.

♡ No, the Outlaw gave nothing away. Even after days of being forced to travel with him to what you could only pray would be a town – somewhere for him to dispose of you before taking to the canyons again – he said nothing.

♡ He’d offer you food, and, after the first 24 hours of starving yourself out of sheer distrust – or principle, as you wanted to see it – you succumbed to your famine.

♡ Yandere Outlaw would feed it to you before disappearing behind whatever cover lay nearby – oftentimes his horse – and eat.

♡ Whatever lay beneath his bandana was a mystery to you. And it only took you trying to see what he looked like once to see that your endeavour was a hopeless one.

♡ You’d strained and leaned past the point of no return, falling onto your side.

♡ And Outlaw came back into view, adjusting his bandana back over his nose, the shadow cast over his eyes by his hat much like that descending over the valley you now inhabited.

♡ Your heart stammered as he grew closer, the spurs of his boots the land equivalent to the fin of a shark as Outlaw came to a stop before you.

♡ He got to one knee, so quietly that you could see why nobody ever saw him coming, and, brushing a lock of hair from your face with a gloved hand, chuckled.

♡ Low and rumbling, like an earthquake. Or one of God’s many natural disasters. A gruff, brief thing as ephemeral as life itself. 

♡ “Don’t get yourself all scuffed up now, Darlin’,” he says. His hand trails from just behind your ear, tracing your jaw, the tendons in your neck, stopping just short of where your shirt hangs above your collar bones.

♡ You think that you hear him hiss. So sibilant and soft you’re unsure whether you perhaps imagined it and rather heard the conversation of pit vipers laying just below the hard sand beneath your ear.

♡ Outlaw’s head tilts, his face no clearer to you now as it was days ago, especially now with the setting sun casting a misplaced halo about his hat-clad head, his front shadowed. Two sides, one a light facade, the other his true nature.

♡ “You’re no good to me broken.”

♡ Yandere Outlaw whose only elaboration of that cryptic sentiment comes in the form of another day’s travel, during which you remained firmly bound – and gagged at one juncture when you made the mistake of crying for help when you spotted a lone merchant out on the open road.

♡ Yandere Outlaw neutralised that channel of freedom for you very quickly with a crack of a bullet, leaving you glassy-eyed and breathless as he ransacked the merchant’s travel cabin, taking all manner of valuables.

♡ “Why, thank you, Darlin’,” he says, his gloved hand coming to rest on your knee, clapping down on you and making you jump – shriek. And he squeezes with all the familiarity of someone who’s done this before.

♡ “Wouldn’t’a found this here haul if you hadn’t tried to scream your pretty little head off.”

♡ Yandere outlaw knows that’s isn’t quite true; he’s an excellent tracker, and an even better marksman. He’d have found this travelling man on his own eventually; the outcome would have been identical. But you didn’t need to know that.

♡ The gag was practically useless after that, for your desire to keep others from the same fate as the travelling salesman had you quiet as a mouse.

♡ Yandere Outlaw can sense how rigid you are – less so than you were when he’d first taken you, but you still felt…different. You were loose in the way that submission often made people slaves to fatigue, to their fate. And he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d succumbed to yours so soon, especially when, as you finally drifted off to sleep after a day and a half without it, you leaned into his chest, head to his shoulder.

♡ Unwillingly, of course. Your exhaustion weighed you down, lead. You had no control over your unconscious body, regardless of how repulsive you found the pillow you were leaning on.

♡ Yandere Outlaw can’t help but let his gaze drift from the open canyon ahead, gradually giving way to caves and rocky rivers, to your face. You were tranquil in sleep, brew no longer knotted in worry, or fear. Just…sleep.

♡ Yandere Outlaw could feel his hands twitching, the urge to touch you creeping up behind him the longer he stared at your vulnerable form.

♡ Yandere outlaw who, for a second, and a second only, let his hand slip from the reigns and slither, slowly, to your knee, up the expanse of your clothed thigh.

♡ Yandere Outlaw’s heart who, for the first time in a long time, beats at a humming bird’s pace when you shift in your slumber, making him withdraw.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, watching, waiting for you to settle back into sleep, kept his hands from you the rest of the night. Though temptation beckons him to do otherwise.

♡ Yandere Outlaw shifted behind you, waking you. Only when you were torn from a dream of being anywhere but here did you realise the horse had come to a stop, an unfamiliar breeze settling over you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, unsaddling you from the horse, carries you like a bride in his arms, kicking open the door to an abode you didn’t even know was there.

♡ Yandere Outlaw sets you down beside a pole, tying you to it. Tightly.

♡ “Welcome home, Dollface,” he says, hands settling on his belt as he watches your eyes jump from one corner to another, taking in these new surroundings, these new circumstances.

♡ Of course, you don’t accept the conditions Outlaw has roped you into. Not without a fight.

♡ Yandere Outlaw, as a result, had to keep his eye on you when you initially began your residence with him. 

♡ For the first couple of weeks, he’d take you to the waterfall to bathe every other day; would watch you as you did so. At first, bashful and uncomfortable, you’d asked him to turn around as you stood exposed. To which the Outlaw just laughed. “Ain’t much worth lookin’ at,” he’d reassured you.

♡ Yandere outlaw who tells you exactly how the day’s going to go.

♡ “You’re gonna cook whatever I bring back. Y’understand ?”

♡ Yandere Outlaw who initially only lets you chop up vegetables and bread, withholding the excuse to use a sharp knife from you by intentionally not collecting any meat.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, before taking even a bite of the meal you prepare, makes you taste it first. “I know you little crafty types; poison enough in your veins to kill a horse.”

♡ Translation: “You’re having this first to make sure it’s not going to kill me.”

♡  Yandere Outlaw who, after that initial hurdle, though he won’t admit it, feels his tongue practically bursting with flavour when he tastes your soup for the first time. Though, he keeps it under wraps, his form hidden behind a wall, his bandana pulled down.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, with little alternative to offer you, makes you sleep in his bed.

♡ “Either that, or you’re sleepin’ outside.”

♡ He still wears the bandana btw, and wears a sleep mask over his eyes.

♡ He doesn’t touch you. Not in intentional ways, it would seem.

♡ Not at first.

♡ A light brush of the hand here and there. 

♡ Sure, the urge to bask in the aura of the most beautiful person he’s ever seen is pretty overwhelming for the Outlaw. Especially since he doesn’t understand why he feels this way, never having felt it for anyone else before.

♡ Sure, he’s taken others, some much more enthusiastic than others (you don’t get to his level of notoriety without attracting a few hundred fans).

♡ So, when you’re asleep, an arm and a leg bound to the bedpost, he watches you.

♡ He tells himself it’s for his own safety, to make sure you’re not going to reach for a weapon and gut him like a pig.

♡ But when he sees your gentle face, he knows you’re incapable of that

♡ He likes to think that you’re incapable of anything without him around. Makes him feel bigger, stronger.

♡ So why exactly was he still looking upon you into the late hours of the night ?

♡ Over time, his resolve begins to crack.

♡ Especially with every aspect of your partnership accounted for.

♡ The baths, the bed sharing, the homemade cooking – it’s just all so…

♡ Domestic.

♡ But, that doesn’t make Outlaw trust you any more than the day he first took you. Not yet, at least.

♡ Despite his confidence in his own ability to keep you here, he knows the indomitable human spirit is strong enough to break through every precaution. And, just in case you do manage to escape, he’s making sure you can’t pick him out of a lineup if you make it to law enforcement – if the vultures don’t pick you off first.

♡ Yandere Outlaw makes you cook every night, under the guise of you “Needin’ your strength to straighten this place out.”

♡ Yandere Outlaw who appoints you as his head housekeeper, making it your sole responsibility to be the “homemaker” of the two of you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who feels strange when he sees you with one of his shirts tied about your waist – a makeshift apron – who doesn’t even recognise this feeling as domesticity. Warmth. That feeling of security having been deprived of him all his life.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who wonders what you’d look like wearing one of his shirts.

♡ And something in his brain chemistry changes.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, during your river baths, knocks your clothes into the stream when you’re not looking, offering you his shirt when you’re ready to come out.

♡ “Y’really should be careful,” he tells you, swallowing thickly as the neckline of his shirt dips below your collarbones, drowning you. He looks away, not trusting that the feeling coiling in his lower half won’t spring out at any moment. “Men might take advantage of a pretty lil’ thing like you. Especially when you’re so…” A shiver shoots up his spine. “Vulnerable.”

♡ Your clothes seem to disappear not long after that, leaving you only with whatever consisted of the Outlaw’s wardrobe.

♡ You notice that he seems to disappear at odd hours of the day, leaving you to your chores while he does something.

♡ Little do you know that the something he is doing is a secret he’ll take to his grave.

♡ The sight of you in his shirts, of you in the river, is too much for him.

♡ He takes to hiding out in a densely vegetated patch of land behind the cabin to…relieve himself of his thoughts of you. Thoughts he’s used to sustaining for perhaps a second or two when it came to his prior conquests. Thoughts that, now, a month into your capture, extend long into his nights and speckle his logic when he’s on a mission.

♡ It’s dangerous, he knows; to have his mind elsewhere while he risks his life for the loot he so desires. But he can’t deny that they make him feel human. Normal.

♡ Despite how un-normal this entire situation is.

♡ It takes every ounce of his restraint not to just tie you down and take you while you sleep beside him, make you scream and cry for him as he empties his frustration and, dare he say, lust, into you.

♡ But, he doesn’t want to scare you off.

♡ Doesn’t want to see your eyes light up in fear whenever he enters the room.

♡ He wants something else.

♡ Something that he doesn’t have a word for.

♡ It’s only when he happens across a conversation with you, asking you if you had “A lover boy back home,” that he found the word he was looking for.

♡ You wince at the question, the memory of your life away from this situation salt in an unhealed wound.

♡ “No,” you tell him, your honesty a virtue. “Haven’t been in a relationship yet.”

♡ Relationship.

♡ It felt right to the Outlaw when he heard it; especially coming from you.

♡ It sticks with him the rest of the day, and while you’re cooking dinner, washing the Outlaw’s clothes, dusting the sparse furniture, he’s got one thing on his mind.

♡ How to get you into a relationship with him.

♡ He’s completely unequipped to deal with someone on such an intimate level, so he uses all his knowledge he’s gathered while seducing and bedding others to piece together a game plan.

♡ First, he needs to know what you like. He remembers from that one time a woman hit him with her shoe when he forgot her name ten minutes after meeting her.

♡ So, he starts hanging around you (much) more often, making you sit down and tell him about yourself.

♡ As he makes you spend time in his company, he comes to learn of the fanciful little things you enjoy.

♡ At first, the details are dry and few and far between, with you giving very little about yourself away.

♡ But, as his persistence drags into days, you eventually just start telling him whatever he asks, so long as it’s not too personal.

♡ Or painful.

♡ Whenever the outlaw can see you're starting to become upset, being reminded of your circumstances, he eases up on the personal questions and just asks superficial ones.

♡ “How’re ya feeling today ?” “D’ya eat well this mornin’ ?” “D’ya need me to dust a shelf down or something’ ?”

♡ His miniscule acts of selflessness are extensions of his effort to make you at least not hate him. Though you didn’t know this. His thought process was still an enigma to you.

♡ He also stalks you in his own home.

♡ Listens to you sing while you complete your tasks, your voice the softest thing he’s heard since…well, ever.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, when he embarks on a hunt, never tells you where or when, and never even the how.

♡ The only clue you’ll ever be given as to his nigh-weekly excursions are trinkets he brings with him. Ones which you thought he’d pawn elsewhere in the county at a later date, or bury in the canyon somewhere.

♡ Until he offers them to you.

♡ At first, you’re not sure what to make of these…gifts ?

The first time he gave you one, he said nothing, only watching you.

♡ You swore you could see his shoulders heaving beneath his jacket, something almost feral in his demeanour. Pressurising.

♡ And, with the possibility of what could happen to you should you decline these acts of…generosity…You just take them, uttering a quiet “Thank you,” before putting them in a kitchen cabinet, unsure of the intent behind them.

♡ The first few times this happened, you were befuddled.

♡ Yet, with how gently the Outlaw placed them in your hands, with how intense his gaze was, even though you couldn’t see it beneath the permanent shadow across his brow, you could feel it.

♡ It was only one evening when the Outlaw returned with yet more loot that the meaning behind the trinkets became apparent.

♡ His hand disappears into the inside pocket of his jacket, and he withdraws a small box; rounded and bejewelled like an idol. He comes to stand before you, and, shoulders pinned abc and rigid, you swallow. Thickly.

♡ He looks down at the box, and,his finger dragging along the edge, slowly, he relinquishes it to you.

♡ And, by pure force of habit, you accept.

♡ You turn the box gingerly between your fingers, the dim candlelight from within the cabin just barely warding off the black of the night, setting the precious stones welded within the metal alight.

♡ “Well,” the Outlaw says, making you jump. You look up at him, eyes wide.

♡ “Open it.”

♡ He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

♡ Swallowing again, your gaze skitters back to the box.

♡ And, with bated breath, you lift the lid.

♡ A delicate, silver melody slithers from the portal you’ve opened, a serpentine tune wrapping around your mind, vivid, beloved memories riding on its feathered wings.

♡ Your favourite song.

♡ For a moment, one sweet, fragile moment, you’re not here.

♡ You’re back at home, in a warm bed that is yours and yours alone, surrounded by the people who matter most to you, any celebration mankind can conjure not even a whisper of the joy you feel in this scene.

♡ And then, as the wind blows autumn leaves from the human mind, the memory is gone, taken away by reality realising it has neglected you.

♡ You’re looking into nothing now, the apparition of your past slipping from you, your eyes wavered and muffled with…

♡ Tears.

♡ In your periphery, just outside the realm of reality you’re returning to, the Outlaw’s drilling gaze drops from you to the floor ina  rare show of anticipation. A hand comes to the back of his neck, where he squeezes the skin. A stress ball.

♡ “Do you…” he begins, “Do ya like it ?”

♡ Your stare inches from the void up to the outlaw’s hidden face.

♡ Perhaps if he had a discernible human feature, you could sense anticipation there. But as it stood, this was no man, but a phantom.

♡ One which must have heard and remembered that tune you often sang while completing chores.

♡ You couldn’t take it.

♡ To have him acknowledge the memory – to make it more real – nailed your coffin shut.

♡ And you broke down.

♡ When you crumpled into a pile, the Outlaw took a step back, one hand reaching for his holster; a knee-jerk reaction.

♡ And what little solace he could offer came in a most inconspicuous display.

♡ The Outlaw got to one knee, now at your level.

♡ And, with a careful hand, he placed a gloved finger upon your shoulder. Then another. Then another.

♡ Spidery and unfamiliar, foreign, the Outlaw’s actions were jerky, janky, an unoiled machine. But he was trying.

♡ When his hand lay against the curve of your shoulder, you did not move. Did not shunt him off or scream at him to let go.

♡ You remained where you were, weeping into your shirt apron.

♡ And the Outlaw, with a fiery grip encircling his heart, feeling brewing in his centre, stronger than all those implicatures and desires. This was solid, unlike the quicksand foundations upon which the Outlaw’s every emotion was built upon.

♡ Was this…

♡ Empathy ?

♡ His grip on your shoulder tightened, the revelation swarming through him like locusts.

♡ He swallowed. Tried thinking through the orchestra in his mind.

♡ “S’okay,” he said. To you, and to himself. His fingers moved gently, your skin and muscle warm through the leather of his gloves. “You’re okay.”

♡ Things changed after that.

♡ He no longer forced you to sleep in the same bed as him, instead bringing back with him a fine silk cover from one of his trips, gifting it to you.

♡ Yet, you still chose to sleep in the same bed as him.

♡ “It’ll be getting cold soon,” you said. “WIth winter coming, and all.”

♡ And, while this new feeling, raw and fresh, was…nice compared to the emptiness that often lingered in his chest, the Outlaw couldn’t help but feel weakened by this influx of emotion.

♡ When he tried to have his alone time with his thoughts of you, he felt…wrong.

♡ Ashamed.

–

♡ You were used to him disappearing for days at a time. Hell, you'd come to expect it at this point in your captivity.

♡ But something about tonight felt...off.

♡ Not that you'd ever admit it, even to yourself, but with the amount of time you'd spent together these last few months, you no longer hated being in his company.

♡ In fact, on the days he would be gone from the early hours of the morn to the late hours of the evening, you could even say you...missed it.

♡ And, unfortunately, despite your every instinct swaying you otherwise, you find that to be the case now.

♡ But, more than that, you're concerned. Something you'd never thought you'd feel for a murderer, a thief. Your kidnapper.

♡ And your pacing, your lip-chewing, your nail-biting are all proven justified when the Outlaw slams against the front door, stumbling through.

♡ At first, you just watch, ready to yell, to ask where he's been the last few days, until you see it.

♡ A bloodied handprint on the door.

♡ He staggers in, swaying on uneven footing, his breathing stifled,as if through a thin straw. He wheezes, collapsing into the doorframe beside him.

♡ And you rush to him. As if he wasn't the one who put you here to begin with. As if whatever's bringing him to his knees now wasn't justified, provoked.

♡ But you don't think of any of that, your mind filled only with the fact that nobody knows you're out here. Without guidance, you'd be dead before you reached the edge of the canyon encompassing your hiding place.

♡ You needed him alive.

♡ After wrestling him onto his bed, almost buckling beneath his weight, you found the source of his downfall.

♡ A wound; bullet-bitten and bleeding, a rouge flower burgeoning with the promise of extinction.

♡ You tried getting him to talk, to tell you what to do. But his voice was barely a whisper, instead using what little seeping strength that remained to point to a cabinet.

♡ Inside, you found what you knew would be needed to heal him. Whether it – you – could save him, though, was another story.

♡ You tried taking his bandana off to see if he was hurt elsewhere, but to no avail. Despite the life draining from his body, he somehow found it in himself to stop you, to place a gloved, trembling hand atop yours, an imploring aura to the gesture.

♡ Don't.

♡ And, for the first time, beneath the dim light of the cabin, you could see something human on him.

♡ It existed only in the form of a shimmer beneath the shadow of his hat, his face still very much obscured, yet the emotions on it were not.

♡ You recognised this emotion, for you'd worn it yourself, both inwardly and out, for the last three months.

♡ Fear.

♡ In its purest and most carnal form.

♡ And a voice, strained with either agony or disuse.

♡ “Help me.”

♡ Throughout the night, you tended to Outlaw's wound. A maw-like, gaping thing it was, spouting blood as one would bucket water out of a sinking boat.

♡ Luckily, you didn't have to worry about shrapnel; the bullet went clean through outlaw's side, leeaving only the aftermath and not the instigator. You managed to stop the bleeding, use the stitching on Outlaw's shirt (which was basically yours now) to sew the wound closed.

♡ For the first time, Outlaw was uncharacteristically human.

♡ Sure, you'd seen the scars on his back when he bathed, the many brushes with death he'd encountered, some advancing into a dance, much like this night's escapade had been.

♡ But you knew, somewhere, somehow, that without another pair of hands here, Outlaw likely wouldn't have pulled through.

♡ Not this time.

♡ And now, here you sat, at Outlaw's beck and call, his bedside your new home.

♡ You watched over him, the cabin silent, the night just as quiet. Even the crickets seemed to chirp quieter, either out of fear or respect for the almost dearly departed.

♡ And, looking up from the massacre on the bed, your gaze swept the room. And you realise something.

♡ The front door, which neither you, nor Outlaw locked, is unguarded.

♡ Yandere outlaw is riddled with sleep, his agony having stripped him of his energy and his strength.

♡ So...why hadn't you tried to escape yet ?

♡ Looking over at Outlaw, sound asleep, you realised just how easy it would be to walk out that door.

♡ Sure, you might get lost. Might die of hypothermia during the freezing hours of a dessert night, but with enough layers, food and water, you saw no reason as to why you couldn't just leave right now.

♡ After all, it wasn't like you'd be killing Outlaw if you left. Sure he might die of infection, or blood loss if his stitches come undone. But you'd at least tried to help him. So your conscience wasn't going to be the issue.

♡ So what was stopping you ?

♡ Looking back at the Outlaw, you felt strange.

♡ The urge to protect him, to care for him, outweighed even your greatest notion of escape, which explained why the thought to do so hadn't hit you until just now.

♡ You bit your lip, looking between Outlaw and the door.

♡ Both options were tantilisingly easy to pursue, and yet only one would be available to you, the other perishing if you ignored it.

♡ Maybe hours passed. Maybe it was mere minutes.

♡ But watching the Outlaw sleep, at his most vulnerable, with his pleading “Help me,” rattling around in your mind, the choice already seemed to be made for you. You just didn't want to tell yourself exactly why. 

♡ So...you stayed.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere Masterpost Masterpost

[transbookoftheday]

Trans Horror Podcasts

My post about trans horror books last year was much more popular than I expected, and since I've recently fallen in love with fiction podcasts and audio dramas, I thought I'd make a post about trans horror podcasts as well.

If you like trans horror, please give these a try - especially if you enjoy listening to audiobooks!

Hello From The Hallowoods:

Come walk between the black pines! In this award-winning queer fiction podcast, an eldritch narrator follows the increasingly connected residents of the forest at the end of the world. It's a bittersweet story that explores queer identity, horror genre tropes, and finding hope in humanity's last moments.

Hello From The Hallowoods is my absolute favorite podcast! If you only listen to one podcast from this list, please make it this one - it's so beautifully written and super queer! Also: season 4 starts today!

Trans main characters include:

our nonbinary eye-affiliated podcast host

a nonbinary "Frankenstein's creature"

a transmasc ghost

a genderfluid storm witch

a trans woman who can visit other people's dreams

multiple characters using neopronouns

Camp Here & There:

Good morning, campers! Camp Here & There is a weekly horror comedy podcast tuned in to the loudspeakers of a small midwestern sleepaway camp plagued by supernatural terrors and natural disasters. Sydney Sargent, resident camp nurse, cheerfully reports on all the terror we must face with a big smile. Let’s hope there’s nothing weird about that!

Sydney is a trans man.

Dos: After You:

Things have changed. Deck has fallen in love with someone who isn't human, and leaves a hungry house behind to see him again. Will he be waiting for you? The world has changed… but what about him? Dos: After You is a queer urban fantasy/horror audiodrama available in both English & Spanish

Deck is a trans man.

Jar of Rebuke:

Follow Dr. Jared Hel's journey as he works to re-discover his forgotten past and finds his place within the small Indiana farm town of Wichton and the cryptozoological organization he works for called 'The Enclosure'. These audio journals, and other recordings, dive deep into Midwestern US cryptids and folklore while also telling a mystery about identity, queerness, neurodivergence, and community.

Jared is nonbinary.

Spirit Box Radio:

Spirit Box Radio is an award winning, horror audio drama podcast about a radio show for enthusiasts of all things arcane. Follow Sam Enfield a former postboy with no experience in the arcane arts, who finds themselves forced to take over running the show, following the disappearance of the previous host. Sam soon discovers there are more than ghosts haunting the show, and finds himself amidst a mystery which threatens everything he knows about the world beyond his tiny basement broadcast studio, and maybe even himself.

Sam is a trans man.

The Silt Verses:

Carpenter and Faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed god, travel up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations amongst the reeds and the wetlands. As their pilgrimage lengthens and the river’s mysteries deepen, the two acolytes find themselves under threat from a police manhunt, but also come into conflict with the weirder gods that have flourished in these forgotten rural territories. This is a world where divine intervention takes place through prayer-markings scratched into stumping-posts, and offerings are left squirming to die in the flats of the delta. This is a world of ritual, and hidden language, and sacrifice. This is folk horror, and fantasy, and a dark road trip into the depths of unusual faith.

Faulkner is a trans man and Paige is a trans woman.

The Magnus Protocol:

The Magnus Archives 2: The Magnus Protocol is the prequel/sequel/”sidequel” to the internationally renowned Magnus Archives podcast. The Magnus Institute was an organisation dedicated to academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal, based out of Manchester, England. It burned to the ground in 1999. There were no survivors. Now, almost 25 years later, Alice and Sam, a pair of low-level civil service workers at the underfunded Office of Incident Assessment and Response, have stumbled across its legacy. A legacy that will put them in grave danger. If this intrigues you then it is our pleasure to welcome you to the Office of Incident, Assessment and Response. Make sure you pick up your badge at desk and report to your line manager before sitting down. Oh and stay away from I.T., seriously.

Alice is a trans woman.

[lepurcinus]

I will always hate with all my being the view and take of Watership Down as a depressing or dark story in the sense of "uhhhh life is suffering".

I don't care if it's in jest. The story isn't even remotely similar to that.

Where in this story of rabbits surviving together as a group facing adversity is that part understood? The story DOES have elements about death and the naturalness of it. They are rabbits after all. But death is far from being the most "in focus" element of the whole work, at least in that sense. Almost no important character dies or suffers an extremely tragic fate.

Yes, there is an entire warren being destroyed and yes, there are also rabbits that accept to die in order to have the security of being protected by a man, but those cases in particular are never treated as "normal" or left alone.

Do you even forget this little sentence right after the part about the rabbits being destroyed by the man?

"Would that the dead were not dead! But there is grass that must be eaten, pellets that must be chewed, hraka that must be passed, holes that must be dug, sleep that must be slept. Odysseus brings not one man to shore with him. Yet he sleeps sound beside Calypso and when he wakes thinks only of Penelope."

Or precisely the phrase with which begins that same chapter:

Rabbits (says Mr Lockley) are like human beings in many ways. One of these is certainly their staunch ability to withstand disaster and to let the stream of their life carry them along, past reaches of terror and loss. They have a certain quality which it would not be accurate to describe as callousness or indifference. It is, rather, a blessedly circumscribed imagination and an intuitive feeling that Life is Now. A foraging wild creature, intent above all upon survival, is as strong as the grass. Collectively, rabbits rest secure upon Frith's promise to El-ahrairah.

Come on, even the ending is a HAPPY ending. Hazel dies of old age, in peace being greeted by the legendary figure they admire as a hero, under the promise that all the rabbits will be well.

Certainly the depiction of Watership Down in nature is not just about how "realistic" it is just to show a dark morality of animals killing each other. Rather, it actually depicts these creatures' drive to survive and how circumstances lead them to break down barriers and accomplish things together that seemed impossible. How they all have a concept of life and struggle to reach it.

Nature in its essence and complexity is how it is actually created and affected by its own inhabitants, who through their actions are the origin of all good and bad.

And, call me crazy, but all this is FAR from representing misery and tragedy. It is pure light and hope.

Foolish anyone who believes that Watership Down is purely dark and depressing.

[thewordfortheday]

Romans 13:11-14

And do this, understanding the present time: The hour has already come for you to wake up from your slumber, because our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. The night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armour of light.

Let us behave decently, as in the daytime, not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and debauchery, not in dissension and jealousy. Rather, clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the flesh.

Some days it just feels like life is getting from bad to worse. War, natural disasters devastate countries, terrorism is rampant and Christians are debating what sin is. But we as Christians don't have to be perturbed. The Bible says this is what is going to happen as we approach the end times and the return of Christ. Yes, Jesus Christ is returning soon! We need to wake up. We need to live differently, not like those around us. Jesus needs to be the centre of our being. The more we immerse ourselves in His Word, the more we will reflect Christ in our lives. It's easy to be swept into the tide of complacency. Study the life and teachings of the Lord Jesus. Allow the Holy Spirit and the word of God to change and transform you.

[wesstars]

ducked out

tara carpenter x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: sam doesn't like what she's hearing. wc: 401 tags: suggestive language a/n: for the wonderful @evilwednesday.

masterlist

“Don’t you think it’s kind of small?”

Sam stopped in her tracks right in front of Tara’s door, feeling the shock of pure terror shoot through her spine. That was Tara’s voice, and while Sam didn’t want to jump to conclusions, things weren’t looking good for her sister right about now.

“No, this is an average size.” Your voice came through the door, snappy. In all honesty, you were the only one of Tara’s girlfriends that Sam had actually liked—she was desperately clinging to this thought as her mind went to the worst.

“It’s a weird design, though…”

“I like this design, Tara.”

“How much does it fit?”

Sam couldn’t make out your hushed words from behind the door, but dread began to ball in her stomach, heavy and sickening, as she couldn’t bring herself to just move. She desperately wanted to, of course, but it was like being frozen from fear.

“Wow, that’s a lot… oh—”

Closing her eyes in pain, Sam felt indignation began to take over. Of course, you and Tara were adults. It—it—was normal, perfectly so, but being faced with its reality… that was something Sam couldn’t handle.

“Just put it in!”

“No, it’s not going in.” Your voice floated alongside Tara’s. What the fuck?

“Try flipping it around.”

“I did, it’s not working!”

Truly, the world was ending for Sam. An apocalypse, natural disaster, global famine, couldn’t have topped this.

“Flip it back, just put it in—” Tara said insistently.

“Okay—”

“FUCK!” Yours and Tara’s voices sounded in unison as the door slammed against the wall. Sam stood in the entrance, panting with bright red cheeks.

“Sam! You almost broke the door down!” Tara was rightfully indignant, you thought. What the hell was Sam doing anyway, barging in and being impossibly loud?

You turned back, giving it one last shove. “Tara, I got it!” Sam dropped to the floor, face in her hands, as Tara faced you with a grin.

“God, you’re the best,” Tara said as she leaned in and gave you a kiss. “I was worried I’d have to go and get one myself.”

You reached out and rubbed Tara’s arm. “You can always trust me, babe.” A USB stood proudly in Tara’s PC, complete with a pattern of uniquely dressed ducks, of Robson...

A flash drive had ended Sam Carpenter’s world, and neither you nor her sister had a care in the world.

--

a/n cont’d: pranked… haha… happy fish of april 🦆

[paganminiskirt]

I also love how Vegito and Gogeta are not only distinctly different beings, and the former is conducted primarily by Vegeta while the latter is conducted primarily by Goku - but Vegito is clearly the more benevolent and emotionally involved of the two people, while Gogeta tends more towards frigidity and vindictiveness. Because as individuals, Vegeta’s “good side” is just as subliminal and rare to witness as Goku’s “bad side,” right; Vegeta is not a nice man by nature, and Goku doesn’t have a grudge holding bone in his body. Goku’s lack of any impulse towards vengeance is the only reason Vegeta is still breathing. This is well established.

But when Vegeta is shown to care for other people, it always manifests as him lashing out in defense of them against some greater source of cruelty - he gets pissed at Beerus for humiliating his father, he attacks Beerus for hurting Bulma, he freaks out on Cell for killing Future Trunks & knocks Present Trunks out immediately after hugging him for the first time, because he knows his son would insist on staying with him through his kamikaze attempt on Buu. Because Trunks is like that. Because Trunks is his son.

And Vegito takes that principle and drags it out to the extreme! The whole first fight with Buu is just him playing this sadistic cat and mouse game, very much in the arrogant style of Vegeta, but he also makes constant mention of the loss of Gohan, Goten, Trunks and the others - using the language of “stealing” “hunting” and “kidnapping” that brings to mind Vegeta’s own childhood trauma. He displays some aspects of Goku’s personality of course, with the playfulness and the attempts to get Buu to surrender, but Vegeta is obviously steering this ship. It’s his confidence and self-superiority that makes them lose the fight, and his belief in the necessity of a warrior’s “pride” that he explicitly cites as his reason for looking down on Buu.

Because this is what Vegeta’s attempts at “good” look like, right? Preternaturally violent and egotistical, but with a sense of protectiveness and paternity that renders his behavior heartwarming, at least enough to show you that he’s grown from the smirking, bloodthirsty garden gnome he was first introduced to us as. Underneath all the bravado, Vegito is aggrieved on behalf of someone else. He’s being kind in the only way he knows how.

Gogeta… is not that guy. He doesn’t do rescue missions, and he doesn’t feel the need to remind you of his superiority. He portrays himself as an avenger, not a defender, with lines that evoke a sense of justice and consequence like “it’s over, I’ve come for you” and “your own bad energy will be your undoing.” He snidely tells Frieza he’s coming back for him after he’s done with Broly, even though he’s visibly incapacitated and not really picking a fight. He forgoes Vegito’s up-close and relatively simple combat style in favor of these dramatic, wide-ranging attacks, more like an act of god than a natural disaster. And while Vegito allowed Buu to play with him a bit, postponing the end of the fight to sate his own lust for battle, Broly doesn’t even get to touch Gogeta once he goes super saiyan, his dedication to the pursuit reminding you of Goku’s final battle with Frieza.

…Except Goku offered Frieza clemency, and looked genuinely disappointed when he rejected it. Gogeta does no such thing. The audience gets to watch, half in awe and half in horror, as he renders this uber-aggressive Saiyan attack dog into a flailing, incoherent mess, not bothering to stop and ask him to surrender even though the updated Broly is a much more sympathetic character than Frieza or Majin Buu ever were. He enunciates the final kamehameha with such gravitas that you actually feel scared for Broly - and in the older movie, when Janemba switches back to his original form, he takes one look at Gogeta’s glowering face and scurries away in terror.

Hey, remember how Gohan fled in fear when Goku (under extreme duress) threatened him during the fight with Frieza? After he transformed into a super saiyan for the first time, guided only by mindless rage after Frieza’s pointless killing of Krillin? During a fight which only began after Vegeta, someone who caused him immeasurable harm in the past, told him to avenge the killing of both their families & the genocide of their race? All of which took place on a planet which the earthlings only had to travel to in the first place because the Saiyans killed several of their friends - a slaughter which Goku witnessed the aftermath of, at which point he told Nappa “there will be no mercy for you, you bastard” in the original manga?

Goku gets slotted into this role quite a lot, doesn’t he. He’s a protector, but also a savior, a planner, a consoler, and an avenger. He does his best to help people and he raises hell when he can’t, but he’s not vengeful by nature. Quite the opposite. See how he treats Vegeta in the Namek saga, smiling at him and bantering with him like he’s a coworker, and not the guy who crushed his bones to dust while cackling with sadistic delight.

But that’s because Vegeta only did that much damage to him. Nappa killed all the others - with Vegeta’s eager permission, yes, but that’s still enough distance to allow Goku to psychologically seperate him from those crimes. Goku’s clemency initially emerged as a byproduct of his desire to help people, but we have seen that same drive give way to brutal punitiveness when he fails, and somebody he loves dies. You can argue that it's misdirected self-hatred, anger at his own inability to be the hero those people trusted him to be - Krillin died screaming “Goku!” you might recall. The removal from other people Goku grew up enduring feeds into his sense of responsibility for the community that grew around him as an adult. He knows how important he is, and it hurts when he comes up short.

And I think that, understanding Gogeta to be primarily led by Goku but still notably impacted by Vegeta, that intense drive towards retribution the fusion displays takes on more meaning. Vegito exemplifies Vegeta’s better impulses, which are brought out in full force by Goku’s influence - Gogeta exemplifies Goku’s ugliest inner desires, with the leash he usually keeps them on loosened by Vegeta’s influence.

Because Vegeta was knocking down 100+ sentient creatures per day as soon as he could walk. He spent most of his adult life as a pampered slave, he murdered one of his oldest companions without a second thought, his introductory panel shows him munching on a severed limb, ffs. Vegeta has been through a lot, and I'm the last person to downplay that, but he hasn’t been going through it emotionally involved. He's used to this. He had to be. If he wasn't, his whole psyche would've collapsed by age twelve tops.

But Goku? Goku had to do all of that with his feelings turned on! And he chooses to remain steadfastly good and give second chances no matter how bad the situation, and that’s a healthy enough way of dealing with all this horror. But a side effect of being guided by that choice is the knowledge that he could be worse, he could be crueler. He’s a lot like Gohan, in that sense.

And Vegeta used his dying breaths to beg Goku to abandon that long-abiding impulse to show mercy. Goku might believe in forgiveness, and he might’ve let Vegeta go because of that belief, but Vegeta is a stubborn little bastard. He thinks that it’s holding him back, allowing people to slip through the cracks; to get hurt. And we’ve established that these two are both capable of misdirecting self-anger at others, though Vegeta does it much more often than Goku.

So when Goku’s mind is merged with Vegeta’s, and he’s forced to look back on his decisions to allow horrible people to live not with pride, but with regret and disgust, it manifests as Gogeta. A walking overcorrection, the sentient reconciliation of these two belief systems. Who doesn’t forgive and doesn’t forget, self-assured and bitter and terrifying, like Goku was for the first twenty seconds after he went Super Saiyan. Like he always told himself he wouldn’t be.