#and that you report if anyone ever makes you feel unsafe

[fictionalmenxyn]

✲𝐁𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩✲

Pairing: Rafe x reader

Warnings: creep, uncomfortable situation, language, protective Rafe, scary situation.

(AN: okay so this is inspired by a situation I had recently! I wanna make this known for people! Please make sure you report any situations like this one or anyone where you feel physically unsafe and uncomfortable! I was thankful that friends were with me. We got a parent to report it too. I’m okay, it wasn’t like most people. I would say that mine was hardly a bad case. But at the end of the day my friends and I still didn’t feel right. I’m grateful it didn’t escalate nor took a turn for the worse. I’m writing this as it feels like it’s almost taking the weight off of my shoulders as this has never happened to me before, I’m not comparing nor ‘showing off’ this matter. This matter is not a showing off ‘thing’ I’m making it aware that it can happen to anyone. People, stay safe and report such things! Love you all!) (if anyone feels too uncomfortable don’t read or tell me if I should take it down! Love u all, have a good day/night!) (will post a happier/loving post tomorrow to make up for this)

𝐑𝐑𝐑

Grabbing your phone, you and your friend got on the bus and used your student bus passes to get on.

You were planning on going over Rafe’s after college. You couldn’t wait! He planned on getting the hot tub up and running. You had your portable projector in your backpack so you could watch movies in the hot tub. It was going to be a nice evening to finish a full day of college.

You and your friend sat at the back of the bus and to the left. You sat in the corner as she sat next to you. As a few people started to fill the bus. You saw a guy. He looked early thirties, not the cleanest guy either. But you didn’t wanna judge due to the fact you don’t know this man. Didn’t know his icing situation nor his life. So you set that aside. Continuing to chat with your friend.

He moved towards the back, but sitting in the last two seater row on the right. In your view, you being in his.

You continued to chat with your friend and show each other TikToks. The guy looked over his shoulder and talked to you both “you girls doing okay? How are you?” You and your friend just looked at each other. Mumbling and giving a small nod. You didn’t expect that at all, you both gave each other the ‘wtf’ look.

Nobody has ever done that, maybe he was being polite? You let it slid for now…

As the bus goes through each part of the town, which was near your college. You could see the guy out of the corner of your eye. He was unwrapping a piece of hard candy. Putting it in his mouth for a few minutes then putting it down on the seat.

You and your friend cringed at the sight, who does that? Why? What really made you cringe further. Was the fact moments later he put that same piece of candy back into his mouth. These seats were not clean, public transport was never really clean. That’s what the bright colours were for.

The guy leaned over, holding the bag of candy. He asked “would one of you girls like a candy??” You both shook your heads. You could feel your friend lean into you more. You shuffled in your seat more letting her closer to you. Further from the man.

He leaned back and opened a can of soda. Sipping it occasionally. Hopefully he’d get off before you two.

Every so often he’d look at you two. It was a hot day so you wore a tank top. Definitely regretting that now. Although Rafe said it looked really good on you. The guy must’ve through the same. Since he’d glance towards your body. Your friend whispered “I can’t do this, what if he gets off at my stop??? Nah…”

You started to panic. What was the number one rule Rafe always said? Text him if you need him. That’s exactly what you did.

You texted ‘Rafey?? U busy??’ He replied almost instantly ‘nope! Why? Bus cancelled again??’

You reply ‘ok, so imma explain but u gotta lemme explain first, ok??’ He sent a thumbs up. You texted ‘ok so there is a creepy ass guy on our bus. Me and Y/f/n don’t feel safe. He keeps looking at us and checking us out. Then he offered us candy. Ik it sounds stereotypical but he did, Rafe! He is rlly weird and we are stuck at the back of the bus.’

Instantly he texted back ‘drop location and get off at the next stop. Don’t hesitate. Do it. I’ll see u in a bit. I love you. Update me if anything else happens.’ He added ‘take a photo of him. I’ll get my dad to report him as soon as we get back’ you texted ‘what about y/f/n??’ He replied ‘she’s coming with. Get off at the next stop. Both of you.’

And that’s exactly what you did.

You made a plan you saw on social media one time. It was a funny TikTok about how to sneak photos of your crush. It was for a laugh. But somewhat came in handy now.

You went onto the camera app, moving your phone by your friend but pointing at him. You said “look at this TikTok!” You ‘showed’ your friend. They laughed. Causing the guy to look at you both. That’s when you snapped the photo. Perfect, he would be getting reported soon.

Your friend pressed the ‘stop’ buzzer and the driver drove a little bit before coming to a stop. You both got up and tried to get off quickly. You heard the guy say “bye girls, see you soon.” You both cringed. ‘See you soon’?! Hell nah. No chance. Absolutely not. Why would he say that?!?

You both quickly got off the bus, as the bus started up again. He looked out the window towards you both and waved with a wicked grin on his face. A grin you couldn’t shake the feeling off.

In the distance you saw Rafe, leaning against his black pick up. You both run over. You practically leaped into Rafe’s arms. You even pulled your friend into the hug. Knowing they needed comfort too.

Rafe knew your friend well. Since you two were practically attached to the hip. So he was comfortable enough to hug her back. He held you both “you’re okay now. I’ve got ya…” you looked up at him.

“Rafe… we can’t do that again…”

Rafe replied “you’re not doing that again, no more public transport, for the both of you…”

Rafe shook his head “you’re not. My dad has already been on the phone with a few people. He’s looking for a car for you and gonna let me teach you.” You smiled softly. The Cameron’s were protective of you. You helped Rafe and you two also grew up together. Ward always liked you, as if you were his own. He’d protect you just like your dad would. And your dad would do the same for Rafe and the others.

He made you feel safe. He drove your friend back to their home. Parking right outside of her house and making sure she was in the house till he pulled off. Then he took you back to his house where you stayed for the weekend.

Never again… that guy will not be seeing you soon… not on Rafe’s watch… or Ward’s for the matter.

𝐑𝐑𝐑

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ (you were good to me) | nanami kento

wc: 2.8k

summary: nanami counts his chances and bets on this last one.

contains: implied f!reader but no mention of pronouns, canon-adjacent, exes, mentions of alcohol, swears, mentions of drunk calls, pov switching, angst, c.death

a/n: another brainchild from me and @augustinewrites, with song inspos: you were good to me, tequila, bourbon, already gone, all i want, and something in the orange

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: waiting for that call you know won't come

part 1 <- you are here

October 31, 2018.

Your company halloween party isn’t all that fun when you think about it. 

The optional suggestion from HR to wear a costume has always been promptly ignored for as long as you can remember, pressed suits in dark neutrals coloring the celebration instead. Nothing exciting about it at all. 

It used to be though, when you had Nanami to spend it with. 

Liquid pools by the sides of your fingertips, condensation dripping down your glass of bourbon. One of the perks of being in a financial firm’s halloween party is that the alcohol is good, expensive to match the tastes and budget the partners can afford. 

Calling it a party is overhyping it, if you’re being honest. It’s just another day at work, except without the alcohol restrictions; your coworkers still check the markets every five minutes (you do too, out of habit), and directors still ask for summary reports while attending to a phone call or two—one hand on a tablet and another on a drink, earbud slotted securely in one ear. 

You and Nanami used to hide, even just for a few minutes, by the break room at the back, inside the pantry—a place now foreign but still filled with all your memories; you haven’t stepped foot in it since he broke it off. 

It's a common notion amongst your peers that workplace romance is dead—it always has been (at least, outwardly). HR would have cut either of you out of the next payment cycle if they had caught wind of your mingling. 

Workplace romance is dead, they say, but what you had with Nanami was alive, beating with every giggle muffled by the palm of your hand. No one would ever consider him a funny guy, but you did—all his snide remarks, comments unapologetically deadpan in a way so bluntly his. 

The gray curtain separating you two from the rest of the office kitchen was thin, but it held every weighted moment you snuck with him—secret confessions a little before midnight, a hand or two you couldn’t possibly resist, sobs hushed down, bitten between your teeth with you tucked into him. 

Workplace romance is dead—it’s supposed to be, but a few desks down and a sharp left turn from yours, it haunts you, still. 

You take a sip. 

.

Nanami has a sense for these things. 

It’s always when something doesn’t feel right that the numbers start to click. 

Clusters of sorcerers have been grouped to surround the vicinity, his own trio comprising of himself, Fushiguro, and Ino. The instructions are simple: to be on standby in case anything happens. The wait time should be a good sign; it’s highly unlikely that anyone can match up to Gojo, after all. 

He checks his watch, each second ticking agonizingly slowly. It feels unsettling, like the calm before the storm—a deep unrest simmering. Unsafe is the first thought that comes to mind, then you second; it prompts him to call you, his fingers slightly trembling. 

Your contact is still marked with a star, filed under his favorites (he knows he probably should have moved it).

One ring. Two rings. Three. A ‘toot’ at the end of the line—it makes him antsy. 

Then, the veils go down. 

The action is alarming; these opponents move themselves like chess pieces, he knows this much—all part of a bigger plan, always with an underlying motive.

His thumb hovers over the call button again, thinking. The expression on his face remains impassive, sharp angles and straight lines concealing the weight of each worry. 

“Nanami-san,” Ino calls. 

Fushiguro’s already started theorizing, rationalizing some sort of ploy behind this occurrence—all highly plausible, all probably true; it’s some sick play that the moment the calculations click, there isn’t enough time to call you. 

“That’s why we’ve stopped standing by and started to act,” Nanami interjects, shrugging off his blazer, khaki cotton falling off his shoulders as he slips his phone in his pant pocket. 

.

If anything, you should probably do your best to enjoy whatever you can from this year’s Halloween party—after all, it’ll be your last in this company. You handed in your resignation papers last week, and though your boss has pulled you aside for the nth time tonight, disguising pleas as empty promises, you know better than to believe it.

It doesn’t matter to you anymore; you’ve made up your mind. 

The bartender mixes you another drink: 2 ounces of bourbon for a ball of ice, the same one you’ve been having the entire night. 

A White Russian is your usual pick—a spiked latte as you call it. Nanami’s claimed that Bourbon On The Rocks is like its older, more mature cousin, and you’re afraid he’s right. He always is.

The hints of vanilla and caramel remind you of your morning pick-me-up, part because of the drink and part because of the man you used to spend it with. 

Your phone vibrates from your inner pocket, but you don’t feel it, the alcohol dulling your senses. 

.

“Na-na-na-na-na-na-min!” 

For this reason, he thinks, it’s good that the nickname has stuck; a perfect identifier for whom and where it’s coming from. 

Echoes of Itadori’s voice lead them straight to a rooftop, Fushiguro catching the boy’s attention to ask for the run-down. Mechamaru warns that it’s pandemonium deep within the station, curses of all grades mixed with scattered transfigured humans. There’s only one thing he knows can be responsible for that. 

Nanami doesn’t do jokes, but he secretly wishes this is just a really bad one, because—

Gojo’s been sealed. 

—the punch line isn’t funny at all. 

Sorcery has prepared Nanami for anything, but this possibility lies in his 0.01%—if this has happened, it’s free game. 

It makes sense now, why this unease has slowly been surfacing. 

Keep people safe and survive—the single thought at the forefront of his mind. 

He moves quickly, devising a plan for maximum efficiency; Ino is to stay with Fushiguro and Itadori inside this veil while he meets up with Ijichi to put down the other one. Time is running short, options even more so—there are only a handful of people who can do certain requests and being a first-grade qualifies him as one of them. 

Eerie silence greets him as he steps out on the sidewalk, the streets practically swept. It’s instinct when his hand reaches in his pant pocket, fingers moving in memorized pattern as he calls you again.

You don’t pick up for the second time.

.

One of your co-workers almost trips down the steps to the taxi, your arm stretched out to catch her should she fall forward completely. Cool air nips at your cheeks; you’ve had more to drink but you handle liquor well—if managing to keep up with Nanami means anything. 

The vibrations of your phone get lost in the commotion. You haul your co-worker into the cab and tell the driver her address, asking if he can drive you to yours soon after. 

.

It’s shit.

Climbing up the steps to the overpass fills him with a sense of foreboding. A sickening dread. On the way here, he spotted four managers, dead. 

The sight before him angers him more than anything—blood pooling around Ijichi’s frame, crumpled on the ground. He steps closer, crouching low to check for a pulse; it’s faint, but it’s there, accompanying the man’s shallow breathing. 

He does quick work bringing Ijichi to the rescue team, hopefully fast enough to make it back to Shoko where she can fix him. 

The casualties are rising. 

It isn’t safe anymore. The radius of collateral damage is widening and this is just the beginning.

What will happen to you? If the events in here break containment? 

How can he keep you safe if jujutsu society falls? 

He crunches the numbers, sorting through each possibility; the phone in his pocket feels heavy, sinking with each step he takes on concrete. It’s not often that Nanami runs out of options—there’s always an answer to anything; but this, he thinks, has never made him feel more desperate.

His fingers hover over your contact again. 

There’s not enough time—this is the only way. 

He needs to get you out of here. 

. 

You’re left with a voicemail. 

The key slips from your hand, falling to the ground again, like the many times it has before. You step inside your apartment, swiping through your notifications to find two missed calls and an email. 

It’s confusing enough getting calls from the ex you drunk dial once a week; receiving a flight notice set to depart later tonight with a ticket under your name doesn’t make things any clearer. 

You tap your screen, odd anticipation and nerves coiling in your belly. 

“Hello,” the audio starts, “I’m assuming you received the email.” 

His voice sounds different when you’re a little more sober; you’re not sure if that’s a good thing—if it’s worse or better, just that it aches the more you hear him clearly. You kick off your heels, letting the audio play as you pour yourself a glass of water. 

Your ticket details stare at you from your screen. 

(Shouting isn’t a quiet man’s usual and his throat hurts from the overexhaustion. His voice echoes across the sea, calling for everyone to hurry over. There’s only so much Fushiguro can take from beside him, holding open the simple domain for everyone to slip through simultaneously.

He supposes, this isn’t the first time he’s done something out of character today—moving your flight and hoping you get on it is the most reckless thing he’s ever done.)

“I’m sorry this is so sudden, I understand if you’re confused. I know most of our conversations have been unideal lately.”

Metal clinks in the recording, a sound so familiar to you—the links of his watch band hitting. Nanami has a habit of shaking his wrist when he’s uneasy about something, and you can almost hear it from the small breaths he takes before each sentence. 

It should embarrass you, the amount of times you’ve drunk-called him, but you have reason to believe he doesn’t find it all that off-putting. 

(He wonders if he’ll get another chance to sit through one more unideal conversation with you. 

Blood drips down the side of his head, his shoulder slashed through his shirt. Adrenaline moves every muscle he barely has the energy to.)  

“Do you… do you remember that vacation we planned?” he breathes out from the other end, a hesitancy uncommonly heard from him, “To Kuantan?” 

You do, very vividly—a trip discussed some time ago with your head on his chest, scrolling through flight promos on your phone. Nanami’s dream has always been to be free by the sea; you don’t expect it from a man turned jaded, but it feels like a secret spoken truthfully. 

So you take it and run, booking a flight two years down the line—a ‘when we have the time’ flexible enough to move and transfer whenever either of you would like. 

(In a flash, he’s flushed along with the current, waves engulfing him as he’s washed out of the domain.) 

“I’ve thought about it and believe now would be a good time,” his voice continues, “with your resignation and things. ” 

The spray sunblock on your dresser is barely used, but you grab it knowingly. Nanami is pale and—

(—when he burns, he thinks of the Kuantan sun—how nice it would be to be under it, bathed in the deep orange afterglow next to you.)  

“I…” Nanami rarely stutters, but you hear a slight shake to his timbre, “I know this is a tough ask, especially when I’ve been unfair to you. But…” 

You can picture him clearly—hand running through his hair as he adjusts his lenses; he pinches the bridge of his nose before shaking his wrist, that familiar metal clinking. 

It almost sounds pained, his acknowledgment of it, as if he’s long since regretted treating you any less than you deserve. Does it make you stupid? Or sad? That you still hang on to every word he says, that the spaces between your fingers still miss the way he used to fill them. 

You drag the zipper of your bag shut, patting it down to flatten.

“...I hope you know the reason I left isn’t because of something you did.”

The Nanami you know speaks nothing but the truth, and you believe him each time. 

It’s a contradicting mix of comfort and anxiety, like he’s freed you from the guilt that used to weigh on you heavily. If it isn’t because of you though, you don’t know what else it could be. 

You sigh, pushing down on the door handle as you take one last look to make sure you didn’t leave anything. 

(It’s a lie when he tells himself he can’t feel anything; the left side of his body is burned, charred down to his sinews—it's a surprise he can still move. The damage should have been enough to numb him, but it still hurts when he thinks of you. 

Did you receive his voicemail? Are you on your way now?

Time moves slowly as he drags his feet across the station floor.) 

“I’ll… explain myself more when I see you in a few hours.” 

Your stomach starts feeling funny when you get in the taxi—the pauses in his recording are obvious. 

You wonder what’s going on in his head. 

(This is cruel, he knows, concealing the truth and feeding you false hope. He’s a liar, but there’s no other way. There’s no time to explain everything to you. 

If this is what gets you out of here—) 

Silence. 

You hear his footsteps through the recording, the sound of his feet shuffling, contemplating. 

He speaks again, hesitancy tinged with sadness you can’t decipher, “I apologize, if this is out of nowhere,” a  breath, “but I hope I was good to you in the time we had.” 

You shift in your seat, fiddling with your fingers. There’s a finality to his tone that you find oddly misplaced—the sound of a goodbye more than a second try. 

It is wholly unlike him to be this sentimental. 

Tears well up in your lash line as you think back to everything: how he used to wait for you after work despite it being past midnight, how weekends were filled with nothing but love, massaged into the soles of your feet; how he’d buy your favorite breakfast sandwich even though he’s a snob about the ingredients in it. He drove you anywhere as long as you had music control. 

Nanami is an old soul, and you indulged him by buying records for that vintage record player he has. Songs from the 50’s, 60’s, maybe a bit of jazz from the 70’s and 80’s too—for a man so stiff, he sways smoothly to its melodies, holding you closely each time. 

He has only ever touched you gently, attentive to every need you express lovingly; his kisses always form a line straight to your heart—from the top of your head to your forehead, down between your eyebrows to the slope of your nose. His lips are soft against yours, ticklish as they drag down your neck to your collarbones. 

A patient and tender lover, the most wonderful man for the greatest years of your life. 

He was more than good to you—you couldn’t have asked for any better. 

(A mess of curses greet him on the floor—transfigured humans he has no choice but to take the lives of. 

He’s exhausted. 

His blade swooshes to the right, body following the path it glides to. He allows himself a glimpse of rest, to think of how it must feel to dance by the glistening seaside with you.) 

“You were the best thing to happen to me in that shitty place.”

His honesty rings loudly in your ears, resounding even as you pull up your luggage to the check-in counter. 

Oftentimes, Nanami would say things and they’d sound a lot like ‘I love you’.

“I hope I can be good to you now, too.”

(Saying it would have been selfish—it’s good he didn’t, even though he wanted to. Those 3 words mean nothing if there’s no guarantee he’ll be alive to prove it to you.

A hand presses against his back; a crack in his soul.) 

“The details are in the email, I’ll be there when you land.” he pauses; it takes a beat before he continues again, “See you then.”

You’re half-nervous and half-excited as you board the plane. The voicemail sounds suspicious, his actions even moreso, but if what he’s saying is true—

(It flashes before him, too fast and too slow; Haibara smiling, the life he couldn’t save. Yuuji calling him from the corner, a ‘Nanamin’ one last time. 

Then there’s you. Just as he’s about to give in to it all—the beach. How pretty you’d look, beaming up at him, pointing towards the sun as it sets into the endless sea.)

“Don’t forget to turn off the lights.” he says softly, like a reminder to be cradled safely. 

You settle into your seat, the captain speaking over the announcement system. 

“Flight MH 1730 to Kuantan, Malaysia from Tokyo, Japan. Departure time is 11:16 p.m. Estimated arrival…”

—you can’t wait. 

(At least he’ll get to save your life, right?

Nanami Kento. Time of death: 11:17 p.m.)

a/n: writing this was really tough (because it absolutely gutted me), but it was a good challenge! a few info bits: partners = high ranking roles in the company; white russian = vodka, coffee liqueur, & cream + ice; the flight details are not real; the pov switching is real time, except for the voicemail, which acts as a voiceover to the events concurring between nanami and you.

thank you notes: to @augustinewrites OF COURSE. what would i do without you fr. this has plagued us for the longest time and we have been way too sad for too damn long bc of it 😭 thank you for half-mothering this, where would i be without your sad songs 🥹 + @mysugu and @soumies for running through this idea & the voicemail dialogue with me 🥺 very important opinions from very important people indeed 🥺 + @stellamancer for helping me with my grammar doubts 😭

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[nekrosdolly]

chemtrails over the research facility (18+).

sry for spam posting! butttt i wrote this over thanksgiving and i realized it would be perfect to post here! the wesker brainrot is real. also this is one of my first times writing sex stuff so pointers + criticisms are always welcome! (also this has punctuation and proper capitalisation wowww!! go kori)

cw; dubcon due to non-verbal consent, boss/employee relationships, obsessed/possessive wesker, delusional wesker kinda, eventual smut (p in v), afab reader, unsafe sex, breeding kink, minor stalking, creep wesker.

petnames (reader received); dearest

Aesthetically, you're the perfect match. His skin next to yours- ethereal. Utterly divine. But it seems that, between the two of you, only he notices. 

He's the head researcher. He should have your attention, but unfortunately, you're a good worker. You're diligent and focused- no time for being distracted by him, even if he is your boss. In fact, you're not distracted by anyone. Countless attempts at small talk he's made and yet you, you brilliant thing, don't even care. 

"How is your research going?" He'll ask when he sees you in the break room. He always keeps his distance professional, lest there be an HR report to be filed later. 

You always reply, simply out of politeness. You look at him, those hypnotic eyes of yours and the intoxicating smell of your skin and the pheromones lying beneath it.

"Fine," you'd say, or maybe a "wonderfully, Dr. Wesker," if you're feeling exceptionally affectionate. Hearing your voice- like silk on his ears- is enough to make him rock hard. His slacks tighten by a few degrees and he's thankful his labcoat is buttoned to cover himself. 

That, of course, is the end of your conversations, but never the end of his obsessive thoughts. When he goes home to his apartment, sleek and well-decorated given the money he gets from Umbrella, he makes haste towards his bedroom. He doesn't waste time with foreplay for himself- doesn't need to as he's still hard from earlier- before getting himself off rather hastily. 

In retrospect, if you were here, he would take his time with you. He'd learn ever nook and cranny to make you gasp, whine, and moan his name over and over until it's engraved on your tongue and in his brain. He'd fuck you slowly, pushing the head of his cock past the ring of your entrance and watch your face when the rest of him slips in. 

It's easy because you let it be easy- your legs spread wide so he can watch himself go in and out. His nerves would be aflame, his heart racing, and yet you'd always bring him back. You'd coo his name and tug him down by his hair to kiss you. Cool the flames burning beneath his skin, even as he draws closer. 

"Finish inside me." You'd whisper against his lips, your nails digging into his back. Blood dribbles to the surface of the fresh wounds and the gentle pain tips him over the edge. He cums harder than he ever has and it's all for you. 

You'd murmur praise in his ear, how good it feels to be filled with his cum. How you hope it sticks. He hopes so, too. 

After all, you two would make the ideal child. The ideal specimen - the perfect race.

When he's brought back to reality- unsatisfying and too harsh to really enjoy most days- he's partially disgusted with himself. He's never felt like this towards anyone except his ex-wife, and even then it wasn't to this degree. 

Not to mention that this little breeding fantasy of his is the most tame one he's ever had. It surprises him at times, too, when they pop up in his head and the... darkness of it all.

He's your boss. He could, hypothetically, ruin your career for turning him down. Maybe he never would in all actuality, but it is nice to imagine. He thinks about your lips around him, tears running down your face from him purposefully choking you a few times. 

He cleans himself up and changes into his pajamas for the night. He skips the shower only because he'll probably spend half of it thinking of you again, and let's face it, he'd be up for much longer trying to track down your location if that happened. Brainless and horny, he would be, not realizing how easy it would be to find your location in Umbrella's file archives.

When he's at work the next day, all he does is stare at you behind those useless sunglasses he wears. You walk into the room and you have his undying attention. He's lucky he's so in control of his body. His face would be a tomato otherwise. 

It is when you look at him, when your eyes find his behind his sunglasses and he forgets how to breathe for a moment. When you invade his personal space for just a moment and give him a half-smile and say "Hi, Dr. Wesker. It's nice to see you today."

If only you knew what he would do in a room with just you in it. 

In his typical fashion, he nods at you and greets you in return. For a split second he swears there's color on those cheeks but you're gone before he can look again, and asking you to look at him would raise suspicions. Besides, you don't need him distracting you. 

He does anyway, forgoing his better instincts for this one ounce of primality within him. 

He approaches you when you're packing up. It's the end of your shift here and you look tired, like you need someone to lean on- Stress relief, in the most innocent way. He doesn't touch you yet, but he does ask you to come to his office.

You do. He's your boss, someone who you look up to whether or not you show it. And honestly, it's not like his presence is unwelcome. Or yours.

He closes the door behind you and locks it. Now that concerns you.

"Dr. Wesker?" You look up at him, those pretty eyes conveying so much fear that he aches to soothe.

"Don't worry, dearest." He cups your jaw and smoothes his thumb over your cheek, relishing the feeling of your soft skin. Were you a specimen, he'd never dissect you. He'd preserve you and take you home, put you on a shelf, and stare for hours at you. Not unlike what he does now.

You are only slightly soothed by this before you're creeped out. This feels unlike something the Dr. Wesker you know would do. Of course, he's handsome. Conventionally attractive. You never paid attention to him like that, but now, it doesn't feel like there's much of a choice. 

He hums at your compliance, watching as you melt into his hand and wrap your own hand around his oddly muscled forearm. For a scientist, he's... fit? His thumb trails over your lips and his senses light on fire at the softness of them.

You kiss the pad of his thumb and his reaction is one you won't soon forget- his face flushed bright pink at the action, one that indicates how long he's wanted this. You treasure it, despite the circumstances. 

His other hand finds your waist and pulls you closer, his head ducking down to kiss you softly. 

"Innocent" stress relief. That's what this was supposed to be.

His hands are surprisingly soft when he handles you. He never yanks or pulls, which is nice in comparison to your previous partners. He caresses your breasts through your shirt and revels in the way your breathing becomes shaky, a shudder running down your spine. He can smell the arousal poisoning the air and it's not long before he walks you back against his desk, lifting you by the hips to place you on it like you're some doll.

You feel like one. He treats you like a prize to be had. He unbuttons your shirt just enough to reveal your bra and even though he wants you fully naked, he knows it's a bad idea- less easy to cover up should someone walk in. He bites his bottom lip, cups your breasts through the thin lace bralette, and thumbs over your nipples as he listens for your reaction. He decides that it's his favorite noise, your gentle moan caused by him of all people. 

He continues. He rolls them between his thumb and index finger, his breathing growing heavy and his cock stiff. It would be his main focus if you weren't right there, your lips parted, brows knitted and eyes locked on his hands.

"Dr. Wesker-" You lean into his hands, your legs parting in what he takes as a welcoming action.

"Albert, dearest. Call me Albert, please." His eyes flick up to yours, the tips of his ears red as is the rest of him. 

"Albert- God, I-I love your hands..." You sigh quietly, your voice heavenly. If he wasn't already fully hard, he would be.

One of his hands, the dextrous and pale things, pushes your skirt up past your underwear so it rests bunched up around your waist and out of the way. The sodden spot of wetness on the middle of your underwear garners his attention without really trying and his oddly cold finger comes to trail across it. He's barely touching you, sure, but it sends a wave of fire through him to know you're wet because of him, not someone else.

He looks at your panties like he wants to eat you alive. Part of him does. But he's on a mission, albeit a very unhealthy and twisted one, so he doesn't bother. Rather, he presses the pad of his thumb to your clit through your panties and rubs in tight, small circles.

It's ethereal, the way you seem to relax under his touch once he starts playing with your clit. You grow a tad louder, keeping in your hazy mind that you're in an office space still, and your boss is salivating over your cunt. You buck your hips with low effort and whine, betraying what you really want- his dick inside you.

He gets the memo, and yet, he takes his time rubbing that drool-worthy spot on your pretty pussy. He's doing this on purpose. He wants you to be totally, utterly dumb on his cock and this is one of the easier ways to go about it. He plants a few gentle kisses along your collarbone, muttering soft praises into your skin like a prayer he hopes you'll hear.

You do. Every word from his lips causes your insides to flutter, your entrance to clench around nothing. Pulsating in desire. It would be enough to get you on your knees in any other circumstance, yet you get the feeling he doesn't want that.

He tells you how pretty you are. Murmurs how gorgeous you look all the time, how long he's been wanting this, and how you're going to look stuffed with his cock. You shudder as an orgasm rolls through you, your legs shaking and hips spasming in a desperate attempt to chase the fleeting feeling of ecstasy.

He doesn't wait any longer. His hands leave your form and unbutton his slacks, shoving them halfway down his thighs. Like the rest of him, his dick is alabaster. Pale with cool undertones you don't care enough about to analyze further. You're too distracted with the fact that you're about to get fucked presumably within an inch of your life. You push the center of your panties aside.

While that is mostly true, he could never be rough with you. He takes your hips and guides his leaking cock to your entrance. He looks up at you once for permission, and when you nod, he plunges in. 

So maybe he allowed himself to be rough with you for just that one moment. He stills, allowing you ample time to adjust before you're telling him that it's okay for him to move, that you can take it. His blood roars in his ears.

He's never been so ecstatic. Your velvetine walls around his cock, the way you moan his name as he starts to thrust rather shallowly, gently- it's all-encompassing. He's careful- cautious not to hurt you or bruise you, let alone leave any evidence behind that this happened. Except, his fingertips dig into your hips with a vice grip, a tell you're sure he's unaware of. The subtle grunts of pleasure leaking from his lips, your own moans flooding the silence. 

When he grows more bold that he won't hurt you, he thrusts into you a little harder and infinitely deeper than before- he wants you to miss this. He wants to mold your pussy to only ever fit his cock, to ensure that anyone else is unsatisfactory. He wants to come home and have you there, ready and willing whenever he likes. Of course, that last part is unrealistic. He would never treat you with such disrespect. 

You're more sensitive now, one orgasm deep and an impressively thick dick bringing you ever closer to another impending orgasm. He's trying so hard to not lose his composure and you do appreciate that. He's strong, even if he doesn't show it, and that fact does scare you to some degree. His blonde brows are knitted together, his pale pink lips parted and his breathing is oh-so heavy. He's staring down at the point where your entrance meets his dick, only encouraging him to fill you up with his cum.

You want him to. 

"Albert," you reach a hand up to tangle in his perfectly slicked back blonde hair, "you can cum inside me, you know. I-I don't mind." 

He nods, hardly able to speak other than grunt and groan his pleasure. And then he angles his hips a certain way, causing his dick to rub against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision blur with pleasure, and you nearly cry. 

He knows what that did. He can tell just by the look on your face, the same one he's imagined for about a year or so.

"Do that again," you murmur, bringing his face close to yours and pressing your forehead to his. "Please."

He does. All he's ever wanted was to make you feel good and now he's got the chance to. He hits that same spot repeatedly, just hoping you'll moan his name when you cum. His thrusts become somewhat sloppy, though he's still pleasing you, mostly because he's getting close. Your cunt clenches around him, inviting him to keep thrusting until he's braindead and primal.

"I'm close, dearest." He says through more desperate moans, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. Not seconds after, you feel hot sticky fluid filling you and it's enough to push you over the edge again, your cunt pulsing around him as you moan his name. 

When all is said and done, he pulls out and kneels before you to watch his cum drip out and pool on the edge of his desk. 

"Tsk. I'm afraid we can't let this go to waste." He gathers the spilled seed from his desk on his fingers and pushes it back inside you, deeper this time to ensure it really stays.

You squirm a little and whimper. You hadn't expected him to do that, but you also never considered yourself to be on his radar.

"Um. Right. Well, I'm going to go." You return to that cold, closed off demeanor from earlier. The one he hates. But he understands and gets to his feet again, allowing you ample room to fix your clothing.

The smarter man in him is proud he never left a bruise on you. The lesser, more inhumane part curses him for not fucking you in the break room for anyone to see. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Dr. Wesker." You give him a half-smile as you unlock his office door and make your exit. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs quietly. He stuffs himself into his pants again and zips up his fly before gathering his things and heading out.

He follows you home. Tails you, rather, so he knows you're safe. Definitely not so he can write your address down and come in when you're not home. Not so he can steal a pair of your panties to cherish. Absolutely not. 

Albert Wesker is more dignified than that. Or, that's what he tells himself when he goes home, your panties tucked in his pocket. 

[valkyriexo]

Since you want the attention that bad. Here you can have it.

statement and rant below the cut

If you're going to post screenshots of a conversation. Post the full thing. But since you didn't. I will.

let's start at the beginning, shall we?

the first time you felt "attacked" was in a staff channel, where you claimed one of our moderators at the time was attacking you. Here is a screenshot of that conversation.

Mind you, this is in response to you saying you didn't think fake texts were a valid form of fan fiction or work. But of course you can have your opinion,

but so can we.

The second time you claimed you were attacked was when you were called out for your negative criques every single time someone posts anything to general chat. In this case, it was a photo of Chan. The original messages between both you and ace were removed, so I'm not going to recount them as it will just be hearsay. However, what I can show are the screenshots of our conversation when I put both of you on timeout (cant send messages for a period of time) and issued warnings out.

Here is the official warn.

Here is our conversation.

I was not rude to you. I did not attack you. I did not blame you.

In the meantime, you continue to make remarks about others' appearances, making people in the server feel like they can't share anything without being invalidated or ignored because you always find a way to make it about yourself. You've turned what should be positive spaces into negative ones, and it's giving serious pick-me energy. You can't blame others for not wanting to engage with you or for voicing their concerns when your behavior pushes them away. Maybe instead of questioning why people aren't talking to you, you should consider why they don't feel comfortable doing so in the first place.

Here are some of the many statements you've made in public chat channels.

No one sent anyone to hate on you. the statement had to be made public because it wasnt just two or three people complaining. it was 12+ people through different forms complaining about how you were making them feel.

You're saying the complaints weren't real? The only reason i am not showing you them is because people came forward confiding in me. so i will not be putting them on blast.

HOWEVER.

You stated and i quote

"People claimed they felt so horribly unsafe by my presence, God knows why (nobody ever explained it beyond insulting me on anon lol) "

But here is the original message that got sent to you from our admin. TELLING YOU EXACTLY WHY.

You chose to leave, that was YOUR decision. We did not remove you.

You also stated and i quote "but sending your minions to harass me, insult me and tell me to kill myself is totally safe. This is absolutely fucking insane."

Here is the post i made both on discord and tumblr, along with Bel ( a mod) post that was also made

No where in this did we ask people to hate on you. and this is the message you sent me.

Apparently, I'm supposed to control the community? hm interesting.

I'm not a dictator, I'm not the president, and I'm not even the only administrator of the community. The name says it itself, it's a COMMUNITY. I'm not here to control people on the internet.

I'm sorry, your getting hate. But I'm not Tumblr's help desk. you can report your issues to tumblr.

Now onto the statement you said about @seungminindabuilding.. here are all the messages you so kindly left out.

But .. you have the full conversation, so you can re-read it yourself.

During this conversation, is when you blocked me. While I was responding to your message, you sent me on Tumblr.

You know... when you "recognized the language being used" as if i was the one sending the messages.

I'm sorry you're receiving hate; I don't condone that kind of behavior. But I want to be clear—I am not the person sending any of it to you.

I value myself as someone who is kind and calm, but that doesn't mean I'll tolerate disrespect. You do not get to bash me, this community, or its members without expecting a response. Respect is a two-way street, and it’s about time you learned that.

In short.

I stand by what I said.

You do not get to be rude to me and my staff and then play the victim in my messages. We were genuinely trying to help you, and in return we get you attacking us and blaming us. no thank you. You blocked me. now its my turn.

Have the day you deserve

-Val

[yuniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie]

Safe

c.w : mentions of reader being in a shelter, gaz taking in reader, plot does not follow mw2/mw3 entirely, no uses of y/n. Only (Name) or petnames + ‘You’. Mentions of loss (parents death) + bad staff at shelter.

NOT EVERYTHING IN THIS FIC IS ACCURATE)) hcs

Gn! Preteen! Reader + Gaz

(Some facts in this au/ fic arent canon! If i made any mistakes like /gaz’ age/ do tell me.)▪️▪️

sumry. : pre teen! reader is taken in by gaz after he gets back from a mission he finds reader in a shelter. After being taken back home with gaz, gaz’s family didn’t seem to get along with you.

- The loss of your parents caused you to be sent into a shelter.

- You barely ever felt safe in there, the nightmare and flashing images of your last moments with your parents haunted you every night.

- You woke up screaming, every night you felt drenched in sweat. You weren’t able to go to bed without having flashbacks. - To this day you still remembered how the house burned down.

- And took your parents down with it. Left no trace of them. No one can blame you, you were only a child. By the time you figured out how to call the fire fighters it was already too late.

- Feeling frozen in place as you watched them announce. Your parents were gone. It happened so long ago. You barely had time with them,

- The only memory you ever had of your parents was a notebook you’d had been given by them. It had their signature inside along with pictures. There was a memory book you recovered. But it wasnt good quality.

- Your parents were around for long. By their time not all cameras were the best. - Taken into the shelter at a young age you never had anyone. The staff treated you like crap. The children your age there, for so many years

- Everyone got taken in or adopted. You weren’t. You got sick of it. Constantly kids shoved you around, constantly, staff barely fed you.

- But one thing that was even worse, this shelter was near a field. The field was stuck around for a very long time.

- It used to belong to farmers. It was a very open one but now it was used for military. It was used as a spot for training or anything really.

- One man in particular saw you.

The shelter had a routine for everyday. One weekends, at sometimes thursday night. Children would be allowed to do activities out. You never really participated. You were closed off and reserved. Everyone there was just not overall good people. You were rather watching the soldiers train, you always noticed one man though. He seemed to have seen you from afar.

- Gaz. You knew him as. Gaz, but you always called him the big man. Since he was tall,

- One time running around outside the shelter’s playground. You had felt a shove when you scraped a little bit of your knee. He was the one who reported to the staff if they can check in on you

- So far to run off mid way through training a few times to immediately make his way towards you. He somehow saw himself in you. Quiet, reserved.

- His own captain always told him he was quiet. But you were so sad all the time it broke his heart.

- He was a soft man at heart but really had to be tough, when he got to know you. He had seemed to come across a store one day while on a mission nearby. Or had it seemed they took a stop.

- He’d asked to step in since he quickly payed, he bought a treat.

- When he came to the shelter he took a knee and cooed for you to take it. You thanked him but he suddenly just hugged you. He was tearing up.

- He hated seeing how fearful and unsafe you seemed. How you werent given treats.

- So many things were happening. He got to know you day by day. If they were on a break he always came to see you. Because he wouldn’t forget how you even got him something back. It was a drawing. Of the field.

- He still had it in his breast pocket,

- But really, he had enough of seeing this

What had you done to deserve this. One time he had stepped into the office, when he talked with the staff about you. He got to know about the shelter and what it was like, he saw your file. How could a innocent kid

Be mistreated?

- He took you in one day. He had introduced you to his own home where he lived. But his father really made this a problem, his father constantly asked Gaz if he was same for bringing you in here.

- You got to know Gaz though. You were kept in his room, he told you could sleep in his bed, he didn’t mind sleeping on the floor since he was in harsher conditions anyways.

He’d been used to it.

- But he finally figured what troubled you.

- ‘Why didn’t you tell me, (Name)?’

- The nightmares. When you woke up crying he was almost instantly there. Crushing you in a hug he didn’t realize how hard he held you.

- ‘Are you okay, kid?’ He’d brush your hair away. Wiping any stray tears.

- His hand ran up your shoulder. Patting it a little before he pulled you to rest on him. You were like a scared animal.

- He held you so tight. He felt your tears wet his t shirt. You hit him out of panic but he only took the blows,

- Since that night he’d tried his best to help you relax. He told you what to do if he was gone while you had these nightmares.

- Alot of times he had to keep you only in his room since his father didnt like you. Nor did his brothers do. But he only told them to f off since you were almost his kid now and they’d need to accept it.

- When you were sick back at the shelter you were often just given those pills and told to take them. Then you were just stuck inside all day. No one was present to take care of you. But Gaz made you safe.

- You were having a really bad fever but you saw how quickly Gaz caught onto it. He places you in the tub after he filled it with water. He gave you your privacy. But he was outside the bathroom if you needed him.

- ‘Im here if you need me, kiddo’

- He sometimes had to rush to the pharmacy for medicine. But you couldn’t let go and your hands flew up to his arm one time he actually stumbled back next to you when you did.

- So he had to take you with him. No one can ask who the kid coming with him was. You were a secret though. He didnt tell anyone about you at base. He kept his child safe.

- It didnt make so much sense to anyone how he adopted you. But it was simple for him. He knew you long enough.

- But really it felt fast. A month, and he took you in. You only saw him those days bringing you treats or coming to talk to you sometimes. Even if it wasnt talk. It became a normal thing he’d nod at you from afar as hello.

- You got along. You did grow attached to him, he officialy did sign adoption papers. Legally and finally now. His child.

[emporium]

It's rare that I get to tell an advertiser that everyone would be happier if they were dead and their livelihood is made on others' misery. But you've got asks open! Play in traffic and it'll be the most considerate thing you've ever done.

Can I ask people to please please please not respond to ads like this? I'm fine if you are mad and want to voice that displeasure. Go ahead and call me names but statements like this cross a line that I can't ignore. I have to report statements like this because what if you said something like this to a vulnerable user. We should be building each other up, not tearing each other down. There are other platforms for that.

I don't want to get anyone kicked off the platform but I need to make sure that tumblr is safe for everyone.

I'm sure this isn't new information but I want to make sure it's loud and clear. Any ask, reply, message or reblog that has anything to do with telling me (or anyone else) to kill themselves will be reported to the TOS team and they will take the appropriate action. They is no place for this on tumblr. If anyone reading this has gotten any communications like this please report it. If you have any questions about this or other concerns please reach out to me as I don't want anyone on here feeling unsafe.

[itsbenedict]

From the beginning | Previously | Coin standings | 60/70 | 31/31

Rather than acknowledge the TOOTH-HEEL TURN, you decide to RUN TO THE HOTEL.

Easier said than done. It seemed effortless back when you were being guided by some mysterious force calling you to the grave, but now there's the matter of several giant skeletons, nightmare glitch-ghosts, and abandoned-construction-equipment-turned-dragons. Also, the pitch blackness. Also, the crowd of evil spike monsters currently surrounding you.

Walter has a brainwave, and activates PRINCE TONY, who immediately detonates and boshfpngrf rirelguvat va n fznyy enqvhf jvgu n ynlre bs guva fzbxr. Vg'f abg rknpgyl cresrpg pbire, ohg gur 'gvgrf naq 'zvgrf ner oevrsyl hanoyr gb znxr frafr bs gurve fheebhaqvatf, juvpu tvirf lbh whfg rabhtu gvzr gb qnfu bhg bs gurve zvqfg naq jvguqenj Gbal jvgu uvf chyypbeq.

Lbh eha cnfg n srj ohtf juvyr Gbal'f rssrpg fgvyy yvatref, ohg vg pyrnef hc pretty quickly, leaving you in plain sight of all manner of spookums.

Luckily, Adea still has that sword.

Less luckily, the giant skeletons have ranged attacks.

She takes 3% Soul Integrity from a lobbed capsule, and there's more incoming- both of you jump down a hole to avoid an onslaught of...

...uh-oh. The cavern behind you is rocked by a massive explosion from a Super Rare capsule lobbed by a gachadokuro, cutting off your escape. You each take another 10% Soul Integrity from rubble collapsing on you during your descent, despite your wings otherwise negating fall damage. You've lost your pursuers, but also...

...The link back to the ancient pyramid has been destroyed. Unless someone opens a huge hole in the ceiling somehow, the subterranean graveyard has been completely sealed off, with the two of you inside it.

Battered, you make it to the Solem Deep Hotel, which is still just as abandoned as Walter left it. Inside, you're able to catch your breath- and finish using the WIFI ACCESS POINT to decrypt the remaining files.

The LANCE GLANCE RECRUITER: PI ROTATION IS OUT ROUTINE ACCELERATION REGULATION SCRIPT is a piece of code written by PAUL BLART MALL COP, which appears to manage a set of microcontrollers belonging to some sort of vehicle- an earthmover, judging by the variable names. It appears to have an odd conditional statement that causes a motor to accelerate to maximum and ignore deceleration signals during a specific window of time on Floppuary 10, 2105. At all other times, the code appears to behave normally. You're not sure why you'd ever want an earthmover to do that, much less at such a specific time.

TORTOISE PROVED WARP FORK REGRESSED is just WORKSITE PROGRESS REPORT FOR DAVE.txt Not even for Dave E. Thinrar- just some random supervisor named Dave who was out that day. Dated 2094, it informs Dave that there's once again been negative progress on construction due to a cave-in. It bemoans DEADLOCK DETECTION's refusal to update her surveying equipment, as it's clearly faulty and keeps marking unsafe areas safe (and, the unnamed writer notes, probably vice-versa.) If he didn't know better, he'd swear she doesn't want this project to get finished on time. Seems like the incompetence of upper management is constant no matter who recently took over.

IRATE HAITI WISHES MELLOW??? is a file with no file extension, created directly by a piped echo statement, timestamped a couple weeks ago. It's simply titled "WHAT IS THIS? WHERE AM I? HELLO?".

Error: Hello? Can anyone hear me? I can't see! I don't know where I am! Please! Is this the hospital? Am I okay? I can't feel my legs! I can't feel... any of me! Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? Please! It's so dark! I don't understand what's happening! Error: Wait, I didn't say that! I didn't say Error: -no, that time I did, I said Error: but I didn't mean to Error: Someone- not recognized. Please retry- aaaaaa! I didn't say that! Hello? H Error: VGhhdCB3YXNuJ3QgbXkgbW91dGghIEkgc3dlYXIgdGhhdCB3YXNuJ3QgbXkgbW91dGghIEkgZG9uJ3Qga25vdyB3aG9zZSBtb3V0aCB0aGF0IHdhcyEgSGVsbG8/IFNvbWVvbmUsIHBsZWFzZSEgRXJyb3I6IEV2ZXJ5dGhpbmcgaXMgd3JvbmchIEkgY2FuJ3QgbW92ZSEgRXJyb3I6IEl0J3MgYnJva2VuISBBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFB

That's, um. Those were not... none of that was especially enlightening.

You've got to get the hell out of here. A thorough search of the hotel's rooms reveals your daughter isn't here, and there's nothing else but nightmares in this cave. But the exit is blocked, which just leaves...

Continued | 50/57 | 30/30

[lanymme]

hiiiiiiii I forgot you had fic recs open can I ask for

right this was why I hadn't sent one in yet

how about red and cutter doing something extremely unsafe with knives (horny)

for you, fox, it would be my pleasure.

CW: knives, blood, the managing-cPTSD-struggle.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Every day, at all times, Cutter makes the decision to keep their life from flying apart.

On a mission, always follow the code. At home, always eat meals at 0700, 1200, and 1900, and go to bed before 2400.

Make proactive choices. Keep the chaos out.

It’s uncomfortable, being okay. The violence, the fear, the uncertainty where they grew up was carved too deep into them to ever be fully excised.

It’s hell. It’s home.

Performing their teacher’s katas, long naps in the sun, the feel of their well-worn pendant are nice. But a traitorous part of them craves the certainty, the comfort, of uncertainty. Discomfort. Wants to make their life, the outside world, match the inside, so that the things they feel make sense. Every day, they tell it “no.” It’s not so hard as it has been, but you have to keep it up, if you want to keep living.

Right now, they’re following the rules of the field. Don’t involve innocents. Compensate others for the loss of any property and goods. Don’t go anywhere without the weapon. The dark forests of Leithanien remind them of the Columbia of their youth. They worry at their pendant with their thumb and forefinger. It’s smooth, well-worn, in the place where they touch it to soothe. Their group of about ten treks through the woods together.

“Everybody, stay close,” their local liaison says. It’s been a long couple of weeks. They’re almost done with the mission. “There’s been sightings of Infected beasts in the area recently, and this is a hotspot for tuskbeast runs. If you—“

A crossbow bolt tears out his throat, a battlecry thunders as assailants crash through the brush towards them, and Cutter’s blades and knives come out. They breathe out a sigh of tension, as the wild beat of combat fills their blood. Their vision narrows and their body moves on its own, stepping out to cut down an assailant and secure an exit route.

All of a sudden, they’re home. Everything makes sense. Mercifully, cruelly, it all slides into place.

—

The Doctor sighs. Cutter sits very still.

“Good work making it back,” they say, androgynous voice dry and calm. “you made the best of the situation you found yourself in. And you still finished the mission. That’s the most we can ask from a Rhodes Island operator.”

Cutter nods.

“Thank you for the report.” The Doctor sets down their tablet and stands, walking across their office. “Officially, you’re dismissed.”

Cutter stands as well.

The Doctor pauses. “I’m planning to schedule a session at the Convalescence Garden. Would you like me to put in a word for you with Perfumer, while I’m at it?”

No. “Yes. And,” they close their eyes, gathering their willpower, forcing themself to continue, “with Miss Honeyberry, as well.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

They made it back to the landship, but the battle certainly isn’t over.

—

It’s 1855. Cutter wants to hide in their room, so they make their way mechanically toward the mess hall instead.

Make proactive choices. They’re exhausted. Their hands are clammy, their pendant taken off their neck and held in one of their hands where they spin it over and over with their fingers and the heel of their hand.

They nod to Medic on the way, who waves back at them, but they take a circuitous route toward the hall, and they don’t see anyone else.

It’s edging against breaking one of the rules, but they’re still going to the mess hall, so it counts.

The peripheral halls are darker, less polished. The shielding isn’t as strong, so you can hear the humming of Rhodes Island more clearly, and it’s nice to drown out your thoughts. They can just listen to the sound of the ship, and walk forward, and worry at the pendant in their hand.

“cutter is okay.” The question comes from behind them.

They stop short. A moment later, they nod. “Yeah. I made it back again.”

They turn around. Red is standing there, expressionless, slightly hunched, fiddling with the sleeve of her jacket. Red’s eyes squint briefly. Above her, one of the ceiling tiles is out of place.

They missed her so much.

“cutter will see red again later.” She asserts flatly. There is a knife in her hands, now, like it’s always been there, and she worries at it with her strong fingers, twisting and spinning it.

The knife disappears, and she continues to stare at Cutter with those piercing, flat eyes. “if cutter is quick enough.”

Cutters breaths start to come a little short, a little fast.

“Okay, Red, I’ll… yes.” They swallow.

Red makes a little “mhh.” sound, eyes squinting. Then she springs up, into the ceiling, kicking and pulling and slipping her way back through the displaced tile and into the rafters without making any sound. A moment later, it slowly slides shut.

—

Cutter passes a hand across their face as they walk out of the quiet mess hall.

Exhausting. Exhausted. Keeping it together is hard, it’s hard.

They trudge through the halls, and stifle a yawn.

It’s a little late. Gathering the energy to put their tray away and stand up took so much energy, so much time. It’s so long to their room, and they made plans with Red, and it’s already almost 2400. Ahhh, it would be so much easier to let things fall apart. Stay up until 0500. Cancel their meeting with Perfumer tomorrow, and just…

Something pokes them in the lower back. Something sharp.

“cutter didn’t see red. distracted.”

All the air goes out of their chest, all the blood out of their face.

“I—“

The knife pokes them harder, sharp, sharp, painful, just short of breaking the skin, aimed toward their kidney.

The breath hisses out of them impotently.

Their heartbeat roars in their ears, their vision goes grey, and they throb, throb, shiver.

“cutter’s bedtime. going home.” The knife trails slowly up their back, as they stand, frozen. It hovers at their shoulderblade, and they stand, rapt, unable to move, ears flattened, fixed backwards. Then it trails up, up, over. Red presses up against their back.

A bead of sweat slides down their neck.

The knife slides slowly, slowly, edge-first in front of their throat.

Their eyes start to flicker. They can’t stop trembling.

“cutter will do this. yes.” Red’s voice tickles against the inner fluff of their ear.

“Y-yesss.”

“Mhh.”

Red bumps her head gently against their back, and it pushes them forward with a sting against the knife at their throat, and they hear themself whine from somewhere far away.

They feel a trickle down their throat and their thigh at their same time.

Each breath whimpers slightly, involuntarily, like a trapped musbeast.

Red pulls away, and then they’re alone in the hall again.

Mercifully, blissfully, there’s only one thought left in their head. Everything else has been taken out of their hands.

They feel light, so light, finally, for once.

A moment later, they start off on shaky legs down the hallway, through the landship, toward their new home.

[intersexfairy]

I know a lot of minors aren't taught internet safety, so here are some internet safety tips. I learned these growing up, and by not being safe as a minor. Please note some of these have exceptions if a trusted adult is involved.

First, throw away the idea of the internet as a safe place. It is not safe. It never was and never will be safe. There are far too many people and things running around on the internet for it to be safe for anyone - adults included. But we can modify how we use it to minimize risk - that's all "internet safety" is. So, that said:

Do not give or display personal information (especially not to people you don't know offline). Use an alias, even on email accounts. Don't tell people how old you are, or where you live. Don't post your face, or pictures of anyone or thing that could be used to identify you. Keep any account with personal information private, only viewable to people you know in person. Make sure a trusted adult or friend is aware of what you do online - someone who knows things in case anything happens.

If you need to break some of the above rules due to dangers you face in person, stay anonymous. Blur your face and other identifying info. Make throwaway accounts. Only share what's necessary to help you, and nothing more. Be careful about where you seek help. If possible, find an organization with online resources or a hotline.

Stay away from adult spaces and pay attention to content warnings. Filter tags and phrases (ex: minors dni, nsfw, [insert your trigger here]). TW/CW tag content you post, too. Don't follow NSFW accounts, and certainly don't make one - there is no exception. Any sexual expression is best kept between you and your friends, in a safe, offline place. And any adult who tells you it's okay to be in 18+ spaces as a minor does not care about your safety.

Also, ideally, follow age ratings on media - social media and apps included. I know, this one isn't fun. Even Tumblr is 17+. You can have some really positive experiences on apps like this, so I wont tell you to gtfo. But you can just as easily have some awful ones. If you ever feel unsafe or distressed on a platform, please know you have every right to leave. Nothing is more important than your safety and wellbeing.

Lastly, I'm upset to say this one, but please dont fucking harass people. If you don't like someone, block them. And if someone is harming someone else, report them and let others know to block them. Harassing people online can, genuinely, kill them. I saw it happen the other day. (I mean this in the least hostile way possible) If you can't understand why this is wrong - that your actions and views may not always be justified - it is not safe for you to be online. In tandem with this, don't engage with upsetting things. Delete your discourse blog. Trust me - it's better to spend your energy on things that are actually fun and positive.

In summary: Stay anonymous. Keep private information private. Curate your online experience. Stay out of 18+ spaces as a minor. Be careful with who you trust, and treat people how you want to be treated. And while you do all this? Have fun! Remember, the internet (probably) isn't going anywhere. If you need a break, take it. Be kind to yourself - and others. The more people do this, the safer we all can use the internet.

[halfetirosie]

⋆ ˚｡✦ I came here to have a good time but I'm honestly feeling so depressed right now... ✦｡° ⋆

(Elysium 01-03 React-os!)

1) Starting off strong with a cryptic flashback and--someone who REALLY needs to get out in the sun more often?? You alright there, buddy??

Bro looks like he needs some vitamins or SOMETHING, jeez....

2) Oh FUCK, is this gonna be another cult-centered plot????

(ᵕ—⌓—)

A cult that uses a FUCKton of drugs, I'm guessing?

3) Okay but, real talk, this is hella sad....

I don't mean "sad" in a mocking way, suggesting it pathetic that these people would spout that nonsense.

It's sad because Olivine knows these people--on a very real and personal level. They're members of his community. And now, he's seeing the people he cares about act like they've lost their minds. And if they're acting this way [probably] from drug use, that means they've gotten themselves into a very unsafe and unhealthy situation...

Feels bad, man....

4) Yeah, I knew it was a drug thing.... (That much was obvious, tho, so it's not really worth bragging about being right...)

....Wait. Hold on. How is "occasionally" defined in this situation? I'm not really a recreational drug-user, so I wouldn't know, but---if they only take the drug "occasionally," then does that mean it's extremely addictive? Or that the drug stays in their system longer than other drugs, so the long-term effects on the body are worse??

I'm just trying to make sense of why only "occasionally" consuming the drug would make them act that crazed...

Regardless, since none of the families mentioned anything other than drugs, there's probably no cult in this story. Not by the technical definition of it, at least...

5) Olivine, honey, I think we need to have another talk about your self-esteem and self-perception...

There is NO WORLD in which this style does not suit you.

You are an absolute revelation, sweetie. Don't let anyone ever tell you different. ♡♡♡

(And don't let anyone ever tell you they don't like the orange element of this design. They fuckin SLAP! *glares vaguely in the direction of certain online homies*)

6) EIDEN, YOU LOOK SO GOODDDDDD!!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡

YOU TALENTED BASTARD!!!! ♡♡♡

GIVE ME YOUR DESIGN SKILLS.

7) Shit, I think we're getting a peek at the Elysium "system".... :(

Here's my theory:

They start by giving people freebies. Free tickets to Elysium (like with Olivine here), free samples of their "services" (most notably, drugs), etc. They give them long enough to get people addicted, then the addicts have to start paying for everything--I'm guessing it isn't cheap.

Hell, I bet the people that swarmed into the temple were told to do so in exchange for more tickets/drugs. And even the fact they did that shows that Elysium specifically sends invites to high-status individuals (Olivine is a very popular/influential priest) so they get addicted too; and thus, are influenced by Elysium...

Maybe this last part isn't entirely accurate, but Elysium for sure is excessively profiting off of fueling addiction, and that ain't right.

8) OH HEY, IT'S THE GUY WITH A MELANIN-DEFICIENCY!

.....

....uh....

.....Yeah, he looks a bit sickly...... Mofo lookin like a vampire....

.....So, what's his deal? Has he lived this long because he's a yokai, too--hence, the weird gradient on his fingers? Or is that a side-effect of the rumored life-extending drug??

Either way, if he's the leader of this Elysium operation, I don't think I'll be his biggest fan.

🦋 End of report! 🦋

[whatevergreen]

"The Most American Thing That Has Ever Happened

A man set himself on fire outside the Israeli embassy in Washington today. He said he did it in protest of the genocide in Gaza.

Independent journalist Talia Jane reports that she was able to obtain footage of the incident, which the unnamed man apparently recorded himself. Jane reports that the man said he is “an active duty member of the U.S. Air Force” and that he “will no longer be complicit in genocide.” After igniting he repeatedly yelled “Free Palestine.”

According to Jane, a police officer showed up pointing a gun at the man’s burning body; I guess that’s just what American cops do when they aren’t sure what to do. Someone who was actually trying to save the man reportedly yelled “I don’t need guns, I need fire extinguishers!”

This just might be the most American thing I have ever heard of. It’s more American than the fake bald eagle cries they put in Hollywood movies. It’s more American than monster trucks and mass shootings. You simply cannot fit more America into a single incident than a man dying a horrifying death in protest of war crimes while a first responder screams at cops to stop pointing their guns at him and go get fire extinguishers. If you were to pick a single moment in history to sum up the essence and expression of the US empire, that would be it.

The New York Times reports that the man “was taken to a nearby hospital with life-threatening injuries and remains in critical condition.” A spokesman for the US Air Force has reportedly confirmed that the man is an active duty member.

“I’m about to engage in an extreme act of protest,” the man reportedly recorded himself saying before the incident. “But compared to what people have been experiencing in Palestine at the hands of their colonizers, it’s not extreme at all. This is what our ruling class has decided will be normal.”

The nameless protestor is correct. People in Gaza are being burned alive, are suffocating to death under collapsed buildings, are having operations and amputations without anesthesia, are starving to death, are watching their loved ones die in front of them, are experiencing suffering of a degree that very few of us here in the west can even imagine. And our ruling class is absolutely attempting to normalize this for us.

This isn’t even the first self-immolation we’ve seen in protest of Israel’s US-backed atrocities after October 7; back in December an unnamed protester with a Palestinian flag self-immolated outside the Israeli consulate building in Atlanta.

And as I reflect on this I can’t help thinking, how many Israel supporters have self-immolated in protest of October 7? How many Israel supporters have self-immolated in protest of the super serious antisemitism crisis they claim is making Jews feel unsafe in their communities? Surely their claims are just as serious and sincere as those of Palestine supporters, no?

Of course not. This has not happened and the very idea is laughable. Israel apologists insist that it is they and their favorite ethnostate who are the real victims in all this, rather than the population of Gaza who has seen tens of thousands of Palestinians annihilated while Israeli soldiers openly celebrate their mass displacement and death. But you don’t see them self-immolating; you see them cheerleading for ethnic cleansing and genocide. They wouldn’t do anything to cause themselves pain or inconvenience to promote their pet agenda. They wouldn’t even miss brunch for it.

It’s a horrific thing, burning alive. I suspect that pretty much everyone who’s ever self-immolated has had serious regrets about it within the first few seconds. There’s simply nothing one can do to prepare oneself for the experience of that kind of pain, or for how long it can take them to lose consciousness after it’s started. At that point the only comfort they could possibly offer themselves is that it can’t go on forever.

But the fact that anyone would ever take such a measure at all shows how profoundly urgent they recognize this issue to be, and how much more sincere they are about it than those on the other side."

https://twitter.com/caitoz/status/1761939039937335584

[knifegrrrl1312]

Like man I remember when Prismaticstinkystankbullshit used to harass people for not liking Snape from Harry Potter and call them rape apologists because of James pantsing him maneuver and then xe'd unsolicitedly traumadump really graphic and triggering details about sex abuse either in the open or peoples' inboxes as a gotcha. Xe had a lot of horrible political views back then but they were usually drowned out by xir bad fandom takes and behavior towards others. Xe'd screech that the Sailor Moon, Yu-Gi-Oh, Harry Potter etc. fandoms were being made unsafe by those xe beefed with while never looking once in the mirror. Xe'd also use autism for why xe could go so hard in hurting others, but would mock autistic friends for having their own meltdowns and shutdowns because of xir ways. Xir own friends loved to bully anyone who'd say boo about Prismatic and claim they had to be biased to hate xir off silly fandom or political opinions and just couldn't see xe was so smart and right even if you dared be sensitive to "get your feelings hurt" by xir. Some of them still stand by xir for suicidebaiting and the rampant Islamophobia and it's just bad.

oh mmy god 😭😭😭 ive heard about xir blatantly abusive behavior before but specifically in the yu-gi-oh and sailor moon fandom 😭😭 im pretty sure prismaticsmellystinkyasshole is abusive bc the way that xir ex friends have spoken out ab how xe has treated them, and the way xe makes all of the people around xir like xir friends 4 example basically unquestioningly accept evrything xe says... Like this is controlling & abusive behavior. The constant threats xe makes, the fact that xe is ALWAYS the victim no matter what and also NEVER WRONG or NEVER in the wrong... Xe weaponises xir trauma and spills it in detail to anyone as a gotcha w/o ever considering how it could be triggering the person xe is spilling all of that trauma to..

I feel like there could be a deepdive on all of prismatic-bell's awful behavior over the decade. All this shit xe has been stirring will only come back to xir like ten times fold like the ending of rubí if u ever watched tht novela. Like someone CANNOT be this awful without facing consequences and bad energy and whatnot, like i alrdy know prismatic-bell is miserable and makes it EVERYONES problem hence why xe is soo abusive and mean and threatening. What bugs me the most is that on this site there is such a little regard for palestinians, and as a whole poc that tumblr and staff care more ab white fascist tears instead of people who are actually oppressed and need help and a community which is hard if prismatic bell is reporting evry1 for terrorism and to the fbi 😭

[faerybites]

Vulnerable post here:

Last night, it was me and my fiancé's anniversary so we went out for dinner and for a few drinks. I recently bought this 70's gothic outfit which I really liked... but as someone with large boobs and I do struggle to find something that fits me. But this jumpsuit outfit made me feel very confident within myself. Now, like I said, I have big boobs so they'll always be on "display" but the upper part fitted with them perfectly; not too tight or too loose. I get stares with having big boobs, always do and it makes me feel uncomfortable but I get on with it... that's just what I do. I have called people out and can stand up for myself even in scary situations. Anyway, that was bound to happen with the outfit I was wearing. Possible stares. During the night, we bumped into someone we know, a woman, and she made a "funny" comment about my chest area right off the bat. "Well, thank goodness my husband isn't with me to see this!" her eyes on my chest area. We all laughed it off but I remember feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach. My fiancé told me not to worry about it and we carried on our evening. We met up with some friends which was fine, I was headed to the restroom when I walked past a group of men and I got whistled at, which I ignored, this happens on a daily basis but I just "ignore" them. I was coming out from the restroom when one of the men was outside, I asked him to move out of my way and he said "Not with a body like that!" He snickered and instead of wanting to stand up to myself, out of fear I asked him to move out of the way. I told him my fiancé will be wondering where I am and he tried to grab my chest area but someone came in and he ran away. I ran back into the restroom and cried. I was so scared. I went back out to our friends and my fiancé knew something was up. The men, as well as that creeper had left the pub we were in. I was beyond relieved. We went home and I told him "Why did you let me go out in this? I feel like I let you down as well as myself." I told him about what happened and he just held me. That is what I like about my partner, he supports me and empowers me to do or be whoever I want. He would never tell me what to and not wear, he isn't a controlling a**hole. I cried myself to sleep. I woke up this morning feeling like a guilty failure. A slut. Asking for it. You name it. I even googled breast reduction. Chest binding. I hated my body more than ever. I blamed myself for not reporting the incident to the pub staff. I wish I had but all the what ifs started flooding my brain. I don't know why this is effecting me so much. I have experienced various forms of unwanted attention before but what happened to me last night is effecting me a lot.

I am doing okay today, I'm taking care of myself; cuddling up on the couch with my cat with a blanket and a cup of tea. No one should ever have to feel unsafe just because you look "sexy". I am angry and frustrated with how society views women to be. I also feel incredible embarrassed. Has anyone ever felt like this?

[captainshadowgirllostfan]

I'm putting this out to vent because I need it laid out, especially since it's pretty obvious from the Naruto opinions blog which side they're on. That blog has had so much Sasuke fandom hate that legit has no basis to it. It feels like legit lies, and it attacks our fanbase, particularly, which I find nefarious. To talk about a fanbase and claim it to he racist without any sort of receipts is a humongous accusation and I have half a mind to want to report if not for the fact that I know Tumblr won't do anything about it...perhaps I will. Idk. But this accusation is not an opinion. It's an accusation and if you clearly have met someone like this, someone who has racist takes then perhaps you should report them instead of putting it on a blog that claims to be an opinions blog and generalize an entire fandom or a portion of them to be like this. We are not racist. I know many POC and black fans of Sasuke, and nobody I know has ever thought, claimed this sort of accusation and opinion on Killer Bee. Hell, this opinion of Bee being an aggressive black man has got no basis in the manga/anime! He is the most chill black man there is! If anyone said this, they would literally laugh!

EDIT: After writing this, I decided to report that post. It's literally a libel post against the Sasuke fandom. There is literally no basis to it and OP wants to pretend it's an opinion about general experience. If you got a bad experience be more specific and what's more report them or call them out. It's really that simple! Everybody's experience is not the same but to make a general statement that bottles almost half the fandom as "racist" just because of one or two bad experience is literally... defaming the fandom! I'm sorry it is!

As a POC, and when you say something like that, do you have any idea how unsafe, hurt, and angry can make some people participating in the fandom? You don't put something like that and call it an opinion because it's not. It's an accusation verging on defamation against a group of people just because you had what one or two bad experiences with people.

I've had some bad experiences with people in other fandoms. You're not gonna hear me claim that a fandom is this or half the fandom is this just because of that one or two experience! I'd be attacking an entire fandom that way with an accusation that had nothing to do with them

This post is NOT the only post that has been accusing and posting lies about the Sasuke fandom. It literally mocks the Sasuke fandom for rightfully being angry. You can check the blog right now. It's the most recent post on its blog.

Right after the moderator of said blog posts that it won't be putting any more replies because it's gotten "heated"

Because God forbid someone is angry at you for posting libel and calling it an "opinion".

I mean, omg, you got pushback for literally stating that there's a group in a certain fandom that is racist and think "oh this is just gossip?"Oh, I'm just saying my opinion or talking about an experience and saying yeah the entire fandom is that way."

And the negative Sasuke posts keep coming because I looked back at it again, and there's clearly an anon there with an agenda against the Sasuke fandom. And nowhere there is a defense against this. The other side apparently has no say on this blog. And by other side, I mean the Sasuke fandom. OP closed replies because it got heated.

and tbh there's rarely a positive post about any of the Naruto characters, certainly not Sasuke, in a blog that is called the " Naruto General Opinions" blog. What is so general about this blog? It seems to side heavily on one opinion over the other. Right after posting a negative Sasuke fandom post that accuses the fandom of racism, anti-blackness, and micro-aggressions of black people with the baseless claim that Sasuke stans say that Killer Bee is an aggressive black man which I have seen that absolutely no where and even the claim of Killer Bee has no support in the manga so why would anyone say that? But right after posting that, they won't be putting any sort of heated replies because, again, people got anger, why? This person posts about Sasuke "bad decisions" as if characters aren't allowed that, and we all gotta stand perfect characters who do pretty much nothing.

Basically, we should all stand Hinata since you don't get a more inoffensive character than that, right?

Also what is anon talking about? You think we're angry at people criticizing Sasuke's decisions. People have been criticizing Sasuke's decision since day on. Hell the post creates another falsehood about why Sasuke stans are angry.

Y'all called us racist and anti-black. As a POC, Idk whether to laugh or be angry at such baseless claims and I'd again rant about why but I've probably repeated myself a number of times on why I feel like that post is nothing more than libel especially since OP wants to pretend that it's an opinion of an experience that a number of times could've been much more clearer but isn't, and defame an entire fanbase as that way.

OP wants to pretend they care about safe-spaces but they do not. Their lack of clarification and the majority of their anon posts of "general Naruto opinions" being basically negative, not just to the Sasuke community but to many character fanbases such as Sakura, Hinata, Naruto etc tells you everything. And it's the fanbases that are generally attacked and mocked. Never anything about the characters.

OP has a post pinning Sakura and Hinata against each other...

Is it any wonder people think the Naruto fandom is so toxic?

In writing this vent, I relooked at the blog and found yeah I agree with some of the takes the blog has but as a Sasuke fan who feels very attacked, especially when a majority of posts about Sasuke are negative in a blog that claims to be about general opinions of Naruto, I can't help but sympathize with Sakura and Hinata fandoms and any other fandom that has been criticized. How ostracized they must feel when there's a blog claiming to be about general opinions of Naruto, but it's about them...

Like opinions are not...general. A majority of us don't share the same opinions. We're all different and we absorb and express content in different way. While annoyance and irritation of how some people absorb and express content is valid, it's quite something else to post these opinions in a blog that claims to represent the general Naruto fanbase.

And even if the majority do feel the same way...is it fair for the minority to be excluded? Is it fair to have one blog be the space of "opinions," especially when the majority are nothing more than toxic angry anti takes

And again, some of these anti takes, I do agree on...but I'm going to be honest, I will never reblog from them because no way do I think my opinion is just a general opinion especially when it excludes a group of people in the fandom who may not agree. I will reblog from blogs that have similar opinions to mine and backs them up with evidence.

If you have these sorts of opinions, post it on your own blog. A general opinion blog is honestly not necessary...it's clear everyone has different opinions about different things... I mean...it's Tumblr. Unless sourced and backed up by proof, it's just an opinion.

But opinions can be hurtful and verge on to seemingly defamatory when opinions feel like falsehoods, especially when it's not backed by proof. I've looked, and many others have looked to see where this claim of Killer Bee being an aggressive black man comes from, and...it's nowhere!? And OP will not ask or show proof because apparently it's an "opinion about an experience.". If you're gonna put baseless accuations of opinions there, I'm gonna tell you what that's called. It's called libel. Spoken, it would be slander. And all of it is just defamation against an entire fanbase who likes a character you don't like.

And as the moderator of that blog, which frankly I find them questionable and toxic in many ways, they have a responsibility to ask for clarification because spreading lies about a certain fandom base is not right. It's not. Clearly, the blog is very biased, but it verges on harassment and abuse and a hate campaign against an entire fanbase of a character they don't like.

Like I don't think I'm over-inflating, this becomes I personally feel like my character has been attacked by this. I don't write metas or analysis. I've been thinking about it... but it almost feels like both OP and Anon want to silence an entire fanbase because they just don't agree, and they do so with this slander!

This isn't just about the Sasuke fanbase. This is also about every fanbase in the Naruto community. Racism is serious so if an accusation is made, we have a responsibility to answer it and separate ourselves from that or at least if we've engaged in such behavior, to better ourselves for other members in the larger Naruto fandom.

This is just a rant I needed to get out, but I'm deciding to take action. I've had some friends that have been hurt and have seen some defamatory statements online about the Sasuke fanbase and I will no longer stand idolly by. It's one thing to insult and criticize my character, you are entitled to your opinion, but when someone is attacking my character for liking a character they don't like, expect some pushback.

I came into the Naruto fandom because I like Naruto, the manga, and anime. I didn't come in to be harassed for liking a character you don't like. Feel free to rant about it on your own blog, but the moment you spread lies, especially on a blog that claims to be a blog about "general naruto opinions"is the moment I can't stay silent about this.

Okay, I'm gonna end my rant here. I've wasted enough time thinking and writing this, but I mean it when I said, I've had enough when lies start coming into the picture.

EDIT 2: I've decided to take out screenshots because I'm unsure if I should put screenshots. It could be wrong or taken wrong.

[sevenoctober7]

The Most American Thing That Has Ever Happened

A man set himself on fire outside the Israeli embassy in Washington today. He said he did it in protest of the genocide in Gaza.

Independent journalist Talia Jane reports that she was able to obtain footage of the incident, which the unnamed man apparently recorded himself. Jane reports that the man said he is “an active duty member of the U.S. Air Force” and that he “will no longer be complicit in genocide.” After igniting he repeatedly yelled “Free Palestine.”

According to Jane, a police officer showed up pointing a gun at the man’s burning body; I guess that’s just what American cops do when they aren’t sure what to do. Someone who was actually trying to save the man reportedly yelled “I don’t need guns, I need fire extinguishers!”

This just might be the most American thing I have ever heard of. It’s more American than the fake bald eagle cries they put in Hollywood movies. It’s more American than monster trucks and mass shootings. You simply cannot fit more America into a single incident than a man dying a horrifying death in protest of war crimes while a first responder screams at cops to stop pointing their guns at him and go get fire extinguishers. If you were to pick a single moment in history to sum up the essence and expression of the US empire, that would be it.

The New York Times reports that the man “was taken to a nearby hospital with life-threatening injuries and remains in critical condition.” A spokesman for the US Air Force has reportedly confirmed that the man is an active duty member.

“I’m about to engage in an extreme act of protest,” the man reportedly recorded himself saying before the incident. “But compared to what people have been experiencing in Palestine at the hands of their colonizers, it’s not extreme at all. This is what our ruling class has decided will be normal.”

The nameless protestor is correct. People in Gaza are being burned alive, are suffocating to death under collapsed buildings, are having operations and amputations without anesthesia, are starving to death, are watching their loved ones die in front of them, are experiencing suffering of a degree that very few of us here in the west can even imagine. And our ruling class is absolutely attempting to normalize this for us.

This isn’t even the first self-immolation we’ve seen in protest of Israel’s US-backed atrocities after October 7; back in December an unnamed protester with a Palestinian flag self-immolated outside the Israeli consulate building in Atlanta.

And as I reflect on this I can’t help thinking, how many Israel supporters have self-immolated in protest of October 7? How many Israel supporters have self-immolated in protest of the super serious antisemitism crisis they claim is making Jews feel unsafe in their communities? Surely their claims are just as serious and sincere as those of Palestine supporters, no?

Of course not. This has not happened and the very idea is laughable. Israel apologists insist that it is they and their favorite ethnostate who are the real victims in all this, rather than the population of Gaza who has seen tens of thousands of Palestinians annihilated while Israeli soldiers openly celebrate their mass displacement and death. But you don’t see them self-immolating; you see them cheerleading for ethnic cleansing and genocide. They wouldn’t do anything to cause themselves pain or inconvenience to promote their pet agenda. They wouldn’t even miss brunch for it.

It’s a horrific thing, burning alive. I suspect that pretty much everyone who’s ever self-immolated has had serious regrets about it within the first few seconds. There’s simply nothing one can do to prepare oneself for the experience of that kind of pain, or for how long it can take them to lose consciousness after it’s started. At that point the only comfort they could possibly offer themselves is that it can’t go on forever.

But the fact that anyone would ever take such a measure at all shows how profoundly urgent they recognize this issue to be, and how much more sincere they are about it than those on the other side.

[akajustmerry]

do you have any advice on calling out or navigating really subtle racism? i joined this activist group recently to do more stuff for palestine, and the mostly white member base seem to feel REALLY threatened by the fact that i'm blak. people take every opportunity to rake my contributions over the coals and nitpick my statements and make fun of me and it feels incredibly racially charged, but it's in such a subtle way whenever i point it out people just scoff like oh you're pulling the race card? you see racism everywhere? you're not even dark skinned how can we be racist towards you anyway lol? idk no one else gets treated this way and idk how to report it to the higher ups bc the anti discrimination stuff in the org is mostly about slurs and such rather than this subtle bullying. has this ever happened to you? were you able to overcome it?

hi lovely <3 good on you for being proactive in your community. I'm so sorry you're experiencing all these mocroaggressions though! unfortunately, it's all too common for First Nations people, even from settlers of colour sometimes. without knowing the specifics of your org, here's some general advice:

even if the org has weird policies on what counts as racism, they'll definitely have a no bullying policy that will be broad enough for you to report about. australian orgs hate talking about racism because they're mostly white. so they're far more likely to be comfortable acknowledging bullying, like the nitpicking and scoffing you're describing.

strength in numbers - I know u said you're pretty much the only Blak person in the org. But if you have people you trust that will support you, ask them to back you up when you make a complaint. if this org is really about activism for Palestine, their members should be supportive of First Nations peoples here and abroad. Find people you can trust to back you up.

put their comments in a context they'll get - I know doing this can be shitty but it's worked for me in shitty leftist groups I've been in. if the people saying this racist shit to you are also passionate about Palestine, ask them if they would discredit a Palestinian person the way they try to do with you.

If you feel unsafe, leave - honestly, helping out in community is great but you're no help to anyone in an organisation where you're being bullied. If you complain and it goes nowhere, get out!

stay safe and again I'm so sorry these people are ruining what should be a helpful community. you deserve better!