#and please stop sending death threats

[castielsprostate]

once again i ask of you to please stop looking towards celebrities and influencers for political commentary and their takes on catastrophic and inhumane world events and to instead focus your attention on experts, journalists and world leaders

[antimony-medusa]

btw if I see anyone being negative about baghera's lore choices I will look at you so so so sadly and wipe a tear from my eye. being weird and infantilizing about it gets you admission to my highly-curated block list. she gets to do whatever she wants forever.

[amr-shitposts]

Man I've been see a lot of antis complaining, guess i will just ship harder 💀🔥

[reesespenisbutercups]

lord i hate tiktok marauders fans learn what fandom is pleeeaaase😭😭😭😭

[vargskelegore]

oh.. yall were genuinely jealous and possessive over tish? to the point of sending death threats? .........

[hanmegumi]

it must be hard being so stupid and being such a misogynist. get well soon

if this is about the anti jk rowling post or the fact that im transmasc i think you should be the one focusing on your recovery💀

[formulaford2022]

I want to preface this by saying I do not agree with the extent that people hate on drivers in general. I think there is a line between criticizing their driving ability and holding them accountable for what they do and say and just being gross and mean. I feel like it way to normalized to leave mean comments on their accounts and send death threats and really graphic threats and that is not okay at all. This post however is about Charles Leclerc and Lando Norris fans (I literally don't mind either of these drivers. I actually kind of like Charles) who act like their very popular drivers are like the most hated people of all time. This wouldn't really bother me if it were not for the extremely hateful and gross racist comments constantly made toward the POC drivers. Like the amount of stuff Lewis has had to deal with over his career is insane. Checo has had such disgusting things said about him these past few years and it makes me so sad. You can criticize a drivers ability without be racist. I have a really strong theory that the reason everyone still hates on Alex for his redbull stint and not Pierre is that he's not white. Don't even get me started on the horrible things said about Yuki and Guanyu that people disguise as just complaining about where they get their funding. Or even the stuff other drivers have said about Guanyu. (Also the fact that there are literally 20 drivers on the grid and like 90% of fans have not learned that Zhou is his last name when that is literally what they put on the leaderboard like come on).

[kazubabes]

i think johnzee as a ship is just not my cup of tea, but i love the characters so much as individuals and it sucks to see people arguing johnzee, anti-johnzee ( like. i wouldn’t consider myself an anti. i just think zatanna could be with. wonder woman. that’s what i think. ) on my feed even though i follow neither of the tags.

let people like what they want. i’ve seen johnzee antis and johnzee fans alike with death threats over a ship for a fictional character. who cares. “zatanna could do better” okay. “john killed her dad” there’s more technicalities there, but okay. “zatanna and john are meant to be” okay. but people cannot be sending death threats; it’s bizarre.

and shooting down one character in said ship in favor of another and that being the justification for the ship is insane to me. i get hating a character, but man. if someone else loves both characters and wants to see them together, then who fucking cares. i’d like to be able to look through zatanna posts and not have people being at each other’s throats about ships.

this goes for all shipping discourse, but i was looking through someone’s account ( who has. lovely zatanna posts. ) and i got really far down, as one does, and just saw some of the asks, and... it kind of sucked to see. no one deserves to see stuff like that because they have a comfort ship, or they disagree with a particular ship.

[jupitermelichios]

comics should place characterization first

me: people should stop openingly fantasising about jayroy shippers dying because they don't like roy's post-2011 characterisation, that's fucked up

you, apparently: actually it's fine to do that because sometimes the comics are bad

I say again, comics are an ongoing mediums and writers change. there are always going to be versions of your faves that you hate, and sometimes those are the ones that get carried forward into ongoing canon, and that's just the nature of the medium. it's not about good or bad characterisation, that's just a fact about all ongoing multi-author mediums.

if you can't handle that without wishing death on strangers, comics are not the hobby for you. watch movies, read novels, find fiction that has one author and one creative vision until you develope the emotional maturity to interact with people who like stuff you don't without slinging insults and ill wishing people!

[glitchingonthetimeline]

😭😭😭

[dreamingaboutsakuratrees]

Honestly I think Tim Drake deserves way more recognition as Robin not only for figuring out Bruce and Dick's indetities at age 9 or for being canonically the best bo staff user in the dcu, but for giving Robin fucking pants. Can you imagine demon spawn Damian running around Gotham with a katana in his hand, murder in his eyes and fucking booty shorts.

Everyone say thank you Tim Drake.

edit: edited again to stop people from sending me death threats and calling me a liar for getting a fact wrong and apologizing for it like four times. Ra's al Ghul has called everyone detective, young detective or similar. Ok. I get it. Please forgive me for this outrageous offense /s

also deleted all the detective-related comments.

[watcherintheweyr]

I can't believe I'm writing this

To open up with: IT IS ABSOLUTELY OKAY AND VALID TO BE DISAPPOINTED BY THE LACK OF WORLDSTATE CUSTOMIZATION IN DRAGON AGE THE VEILGUARD. I have my own disappointments about it!

Ok? We have that covered? We good?

Cool, moving on.

To people who are genuinely, hatefully angry, saying we will now be 'forced into Bioware's worldstate' (when this year alone they've stated there is no 'canon' worldstate more than once), or saying that none of our prior dragon age choices matter, I need you to take a step back and walk with me for a second, okay?

For starters: John Epler stated that one of the reasons they narrowed the choices is because they DO NOT want to invalidate the worldstates of their longtime players. However they also don't want to alienate newer players who don't have the history and lore of the past choices. It's a narrow line to walk.

Secondly, I want you to really look at the choices made by your Hero, Champion, and Inquisitor. Which of those choices genuinely affected NORTHERN Thedas, not Southern Thedas, to the point it would linger for years afterwards? Which of those choices weren't things that specifically affected or altered the sociopolitical Southern Thedas climate and landscape in lasting ways?

The Well? Kieran?

That only leaves that if your Inquisitor drank, they now have knowledge from ages long past... that Rook doesn't need. Rook has a direct line into Solas' history and a possible Veiljumper background, unlocking those very secrets on their own.

It's entirely likely and probable that the Well's fears and threats were a red herring. Think about it. We as a gandom have spent TEN YEARS worrying about the Well, about Solas, about Mythal.

Come June 2024, we're slapped in the face by the big bads of Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan.

Morrigan likely isn't going to be close and friendly with Rook- so there's likely not much reason for her to tell us about her child or husband if she has them.

The rulers of Southern Thedas aren't going to affect us. We aren't tackling the current world ending crisis from the position of a leader of armies like the Warden and Inquisitor, but as leader of a small task force. The Southern Divine doesn't much affect us either- nor do Southern mage politics or templar politics.

Because Rook is an entirely new perspective.

Because Rook is in an ENTIRELY different sociopolitical climate/landscape.

I DO think there should've been ways implemented to specify your Inquisitor's bonds and personality. I'm HOPING maybe there still are that we haven't seen. But otherwise?

My Warden is free. I can say she's cured her Calling and is wandering the world with Zevran.

My Champion can retire into total obscurity with his husband or be quietly helping said husband destroy the slave trade. Either way.

Your history and choices in Thedas still matter. Your heroes still matter.

They just aren't Rook's focus.

Take a breath please. And stop sending death threats to the devs bc what the **fuck.**

EDIT:

further context from the devs on Bluesky

[kraken17]

On account of the "Enid is the stalker" theory resurfacing in some corners of the fandom...

Wednesday: So, of all people, you are my stalker.

Enid: ...yes.

Wednesday: Just a minute after Xavier gave me that infernal phone object you threatened to sever his jugular if he didn't give you my number and the first thing you do after getting it is send me a death threat.

Enid: [nods].

Wednesday: And after that you have spent the last four months threatening me, manipulating images and videos and getting me to suspect everyone but you.

Enid: [nods again].

Wednesday: And you have only chosen to confess the truth to try to stop my attempt to eliminate Yoko, whom you had made suspect number 1.

Enid: Yep.

Wednesday: Enid, why? Why all this?

Enid: [very quietly] I thought you'd like it?

[beat]

Wednesday: Querida [takes Enid in her arms] ...I loved it.

Yoko: Okay, cool, but can you untie me from this pole and keep the gasoline away? Pretty please? Thank you.

[liliesdiary]

Please don't kill me, Mr Ghostface!

Ghostface x Doll

cw: cnc, knife play, doll, blood play, vile, choking, brutal sex, dubcon, dacryphilia, fear kink, threats of death, kidnapping, opposite end of the knife in your cunt

You can imagine any male ghostface character for this daydream <3 (making a part two soon, comment if you wanna be tagged)

word count: 600+

Daydreaming about ghostface holding you down in a dark alley as he skull fucks you, not letting you catch your breath or fight back. He tied a pink ribbon around your pretty throat, strangling you as he slams your head into the wall, making you whimper and cry as he continues to fuck your throat with a knife to your collarbone.

You whimper as the masked man presses the blade down on your collarbone, making you bleed. “Bleed for me, my little plaything.”

You cry as he continues to press the blade along your collarbone, staining your pink dress. His thrusts were brutal as he fucked your throat, you tried to stay still like a pretty doll but you couldn't help but cry and squirm. You wanted to be his perfect little plaything. You knew he was a vile man yet you were on your knees letting this stranger violate your body in a dark alleyway.

“Good girl.” he says as he looks at the blood, his dick twitched at the sight of his pretty doll bleeding and crying for him. He was a sick man but you were sicker.

He then came down your throat, his grip tightening around your skull, making sure you swallow his cum. You let out a pathetic cry, making him chuckle and tighten his grip on your skull even more. He finally lets go of your skull, you gasp and cry as you collapse onto the ground, covered in your own blood.

He smiles at your pathetic body, “I’m taking you home with me doll.” He then grabs your ass roughly and bends you over. He looks at your pink lace panties and cuts them off with his blade stained with your blood.

“Please, don't kill me mr ghostface!” You cry out.

He lets out a deep chuckle that sends shivers down your spine, “if you're not a good little doll for me I might have to kill you. So be a good little doll for me and behave, I want to play with you for a bit longer.”

You let out a whimper as he starts to use the opposite end of the blade to tease your wet hole. You squirmed and gasp. He lets out a small chuckle and continues despite your obvious discomfort and fear of the blade cutting you down there.

The fact that ghostface, the serial killer that has killed and mutilated your classmates is bending you over and fucking you with his knife makes you feel so nasty yet you couldn't help but be so fucking wet. You moan and bounce on the opposite end of the blade that has ended so many lives and he only gets more turned on by the sight.

The scene that unfolds in front of him turns him on even more, “Fuck, you're so needy baby doll. I can't take it anymore.” He takes the knife away from you and replaces his hard cock there instead. You moan and whimper as he roughly jams in it, not wasting any time and pounding your wet pussy. He holds the knife to your throat again and moans vile things to you.

“Such a good fucking doll for me. You're getting fucked by a fucking serial killer and your dripping all over my cock.”

His words made your cunt throb and your eyes fill with tears, you wanted to tell him to stop but you were just lying to yourself. He slapped your face and continued to fuck your delicate body.

The sounds of his dick penetrating your wet cunt filled the dark alleyway. Your legs started to shake as he pounded into you and strangled you with that pretty pink ribbon around your throat.

“I'm gonna take you home and make you my personal sex doll.”

[a-b-riddle]

Runaway Love (kidnapper Price x captive reader)

cw: established kidnapping, violence, intimidation, unplanned pregnancy, miscommunicated threat of forced abortion, eventual Stockholm syndrome, housewife kink. Reader just accepts her situation at this point. Dub-con, non-con.

You couldn't think of anything except the pain that radiated with each step toward your room. You were lucky your work and home were the same place. It was incomprehensible, downright unbelievable how some of the other maids worked their shift and then either walked home or walked to the bus stop.

Granted, most of them weren't pregnant and had shoes that actually fit, but you didn't like to complain. You were lucky to have the job, even if it was back breaking. You had a roof over your head and although the pay was minimal, you were able to buy essentials and save up and with a baby on the way every penny saved counted.

Most importantly, you were free. You were safe and so was the baby. It had been the only reason that after almost a year, you had finally been brave enough to escape. Knowing that it would be hard to rebuild a life from scratch. Knowing that the consequences meant a punishment so severe you could only hope for death.

You had tracked your period religiously. Even with the stress of being held captive by a psycho military Captain, your cycles were fairly normal. So when you were five days off, you knew. In a moment in which you wanted nothing more than to be happy to finally be starting the family you dreamed about having as a little girl, fear enveloped you.

John had never mentioned kids. Only a wife. Someone to be at home waiting for him. Keeping the house in order and his bed warm while he was away.

All I need is you and the boys, Birdie. What more could a man want?

You considered telling him. Hoping that he would be as happy as you wanted to be. Yet anytime you came close to telling him over the next two weeks, horrible thoughts raced through your mind. What if he was angry? What if he blamed you even though he practically took you whenever he pleased? How would he terminate the pregnancy or would he be content in letting you give birth without any medical intervention and simply get rid of the baby after?

Would he just get rid of you altogether?

It was like the universe was telling you to run when shortly after you decided that telling him wasn't the answer, that he told you he was going on a mission. Won't be back for a couple of weeks. Sent the boys to pick up anything you'll need. I know you'll be good for me.

You had been good. For that last six months, you had behaved. Didn't pull away from his touch or put up a fuss. You lived in the epitome of domestic bliss, so John had no reason to send you down to the basement. Not when you had so many opportunities to try to escape and you didn't.

Granted, he had threatened to break your legs during your first and last stunt. You had been in the basement for three weeks. Living in near darkness as he brought all of your meals. You had been upstairs for about twenty minutes and barely made it to the door before he tackled you. Pinning you to the ground, breath hot against the back of your neck as he hissed in your ear. Ungrateful little brat.

Your apologies fell on deaf ears as he hauled you back down where you would stay for six weeks.

For months you built the relationship on a lie. A lie John deluded himself into believing. Anytime he told you he loved you, you repeated the words back. Wanting to scrub your body raw anytime he touched you and hating yourself anytime he made you come.

But it had been worth it. You were four months along, and given your ill-fitted clothes, not really showing, but knowing that in another five months you would be holding the baby you always wanted. A baby that you had went through hell for. Seeing his or her face for the first time, being their mom would be worth it.

You kept all of the lights off. It was a request of the motel owners to reduce their bills. So even if it was early December and you knew you would be walking back to a freezing room, they didn't give a shit. In truth, they were doing you a favor only charging you $400 in rent with unlimited access to their laundry services. You suppose having the pity of others did have its perks.

You hadn't even bothered to turn on the lights before pulling your shoes off your feet and plopping down on the bed. The grit and grim still felt thick on your skin, but you couldn't find the energy to care. You would shower and get on a fresh set of clothes you had gotten from the shelter when you first made it into the city, but for now you needed a moment. Just a few minutes to decompress.

A few minutes turned into five and then ten. Before you knew it, you had been laying in the bed floating in and out of consciousness for almost twenty minutes. You knew you needed to get up. Wash away the grime of the day that had settled on your skin. Your clothes smelling faintly of bleach.

Fuck you were tired.

You were always tired.

You got up and made your way to the bathroom, barely keeping your eyes opened. Not confident enough you would actually be able to take a shower without wanting to lay down in the tub and let all the strain of the day go down the train.

It's funny how the human body can make us teeter on the edge of sleep. We imagine things that may or not be there. But when you heard it, when you heard that voice coming from the corner of you room, you knew you weren't imagining anything.

"Wonderin' when you'd wake up."

[gwaynesprincess]

Corruption - Chapter One

Summary: Your brothers covet you, unaware that you are experiencing similar feelings.

Content: NSFW, incest, wet dream, cunnilingus, humping the bed, cumming in pants, male masturbation, blowjob

Words: 1.5K

Note: Thank you to @peachysunrize for being my beta! 💚

Your soft whimpers were the most beautiful sound that Aemond had ever heard. He groaned as you tugged on his pale blond locks, and you bucked your hips against his face. He firmly pressed his tongue to your pearl, moaning as he tossed your thighs over his shoulders and pulled your cunt closer. He was perfectly content to spend forever with his head buried between your legs, drawing you closer and closer to your peak. His own pleasure was only a faint thought in the back of his mind as he frantically ground his hips against your bed, trying to suffocate himself as he mercilessly thrust his tongue into you. Your legs were trembling as your moans wound to higher pitches, your peak so close that he could almost taste it. You wailed in desperation as he began to suckle on your swollen bud, pleasure consuming you– 

Aemond woke with a gasp, immediately aware of the sticky mess in his sleeping trousers. Shame burned his cheeks as he realized what he had done. You were his sister, so sweet and innocent, and he could not stop himself from dreaming of defiling you. He desperately wanted to claim you, to make you his wife so that he could devote every waking hour to your protection and pleasure. But it was never to be, as there was too much political favor to be gained from sending you off to wed the highest bidding lord. 

He knew that political favor was the key to the survival of his entire family. Whether his elder brother or half-sister would succeed their father on the Iron Throne would be determined, in part, by which claimant could call more banners to war. But even this threat could not stop him from picturing your bare body underneath his own as he fucked you, pleasure etched on your beautiful face as he brought you to your peak over and over again until you forgot everything but his name… 

He could feel his cock valiantly trying to harden once more at the thought of you lying naked beneath him. Aemond groaned quietly and sat up, glancing around his chambers. Faint light streamed through the window, indicating that it was nearly dawn. He would need to rise soon if he was to meet Cole in the training yard. And so, he did what he had done every morning for the last few years: he allowed his sinful mind one more moment of deadly yearning, then steeled himself and rose from his bed. He did not know how much longer he could stand to exist in your presence without going mad because of his desire for you, but he refused to condemn you and the rest of his family to death because of his weakness. 

–

“Fuck,” Aegon groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he slowly pumped his cock. In his dreams, you had moaned in pleasure as he fucked your throat. He had woken up to the harsh reality of an empty bed and his aching length, though he had not hesitated to pretend that his hand was your own. He was reaching his end with embarrassing speed, but he could not bring himself to care as he desperately bucked his hips. Pleasure was rapidly building in his stomach, and he knew that he was about to burst. 

He was right on the precipice of his peak when a gentle knock sounded on the doors to his chambers. Aegon bit back a nasty greeting for the imbecile who dared to disturb him and moved his hand faster, unwilling to deny himself at the whims of some pesky servant. 

“Brother? May I please enter?” 

He whimpered quietly, the sound of your sweet, innocent voice pushing him over the edge. His back arched and he groaned loudly as he spurted ropes of pearly spend all over his stomach, frantically continuing to stroke his cock as he rode out his high. In his mind, you moaned around his length as he spilled his seed down your throat. 

Euphoria flooded his body as he lay on his bed, trembling and gasping for air. Seven fucking Hells. You knocked again, more firmly this time. “Brother? Are you alright?” 

He sighed blissfully, reveling in your concern. After a brief moment, he sat up, adjusting the sheets of his bed to hide his stained hands and stomach. “Enter, sister,” he replied, trying to keep the excitement in his voice from becoming too apparent.

The doors to his chambers opened, and you quickly entered, your violet eyes shining eagerly. His cock twitched and he bit back a groan, oversensitive as he was. “Good morrow, Aegon,” you said brightly. “Mother sent me to rouse you so that we might break our fast together.” 

Aegon groaned comically, closing his eyes and flopping back down on the bed. He did not wish to endure such an affair, even if you would be present. “And if I refuse?” he asked cheekily. 

You giggled at his antics. “Then I shall ask Aemond to join me instead.” 

Aegon’s eyes snapped open and he sat up again, a bitter pang of jealousy bursting in his chest. You might be oblivious to it, but he was well aware of his younger brother’s desire for you. Both of them coveted you, their sweet sister. He could not bring himself to sully your honor and ruin you, for you were so innocent, your heart filled with only the purest love. Aemond’s inclination to duty may keep his urges at bay, but Aegon’s resistance was driven only by his fear of losing you should you learn of his sinful desires. 

“I shall be along momentarily,” he promised. 

A beautiful smile lit up your face. Aegon felt the inexplicable urge to smile in return, a strange fluttering sensation settling in his chest as your cheeks pinked. “I look forward to dining with you, brother,” you said shyly. 

Gods, you were absolutely perfect. He wished that you would climb into his bed so that he could properly worship you. He was certain that you had never felt pleasure before, and he desperately wanted to fuck you with his fingers until you were sobbing that it felt too good. 

He knew that he was doomed to forever covet you as he watched you exit his chambers, still blushing slightly. He could never be privileged enough to caress you or make you his wife, but he was certain to spend his days yearning for your gentle touch. Aegon kept the image of your pretty smile at the front of his mind as he flopped onto his back once more. “Fuck.” 

–

You were quite concerned for your eldest brother as you hurried off to announce his acquiescence to your mother. You were certain that he had been groaning in distress when you roused him, and his cheeks were horribly flushed when he granted you entry to his chambers. Hopefully, whatever ailed him was nothing serious. 

Perhaps you ought to have asked if he was feeling alright. You could have offered to bring him water or tea, if only you had been brave enough to properly check on him! Alas, you had hesitated, fearing that strange feeling that you were often tormented by whenever your elder brothers were nearby. More often than not, Aegon and Aemond left you flustered and squirming, craving something that you could not quite name. Part of you wondered if you were being seduced by some type of sinful desire, but you always assumed that could not be the case, for you had always been taught that only men were ruled by such feelings, as only they should take pleasure in carnal acts of the flesh. 

For a brief moment, you considered consulting your mother about your predicament, but she would likely only advise you to devote hours to praying for forgiveness. While you were desperate for the fire inside of you to be quenched, you also needed to understand what it was driven by so that it would never come back. You could ask your sister for guidance, as Helaena was well-read, particularly now that she was studying to become a septa. Still, you were uncertain that she would be able to suggest anything more than prayer. 

That left you with only your elder brothers, as your younger brother was currently in Oldtown. But you could not ask Aegon or Aemond about the feeling you experienced, for the two of them were the cause of it! 

The idea took you by surprise, and you stopped in your tracks. Aegon often alluded to or spoke of what he had learned in the brothels of the Street of Silk. If he was able to sneak out almost every night, surely you would be able to make it once. You could visit one of these establishments come nightfall, and all of your questions would surely be answered. You would know for sure if what you felt was desire for your brothers, and if it was, you would learn how to stop it from consuming you. A hopeful confidence bloomed in your chest at the thought of your plan. One way or another, your torturous feelings would reach an end by the following morning.