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justinspoliticalcorner · 7 days ago

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Elizabeth Warren for Time Magazine:

To everyone who feels like their heart has been ripped out of their chest, I feel the same. To everyone who is afraid of what happens next, I share your fears. But what we do next is important, and I need you in this fight with me. As we confront a second Donald Trump presidency, we have two tasks ahead. First, try to learn from what happened. And then, make a plan.

Many political experts and D.C. insiders are already blaming President Joe Biden’s economic agenda for Vice President Kamala Harris’ loss. This does not stand up to scrutiny. Even though the Biden economy produced strong economic growth while reining in inflation, incumbent parties across the globe have been tossed out by voters after the pandemic. American voters also showed support for Democratic economic policies, for example, approving ballot initiatives to raise the minimum wage in Alaska and to guarantee paid sick leave in Missouri.

[...] What comes next? Trump won the election, but more than 67 million people voted for Democrats and they don’t expect us to roll over and play dead. We will have a peaceful transition of power, followed by a vigorous challenge from the party out of power, because that’s how democracy works. Here’s a path forward.

First, fight every fight in Congress.

We won’t always win, but we can slow or sometimes limit Trump’s destruction. With every fight, we can build political power to put more checks on his administration and build the foundation for future wins. Remember that during the first Trump term, mass mobilization—including some of the largest peaceful protests in world history—was the battery that charged the resistance. There is power in solidarity, and we can’t win if we don’t get in the fight. During the Trump years, Congress stepped up its oversight of his unprecedented corruption and abuses of power. In the Senate, Democrats gave no quarter to radical Trump nominees; we asked tough questions and held the Senate floor for hours to slow down confirmation and expose Republican extremism. These tactics doomed some nominations entirely, laid the groundwork for other cabinet officials to later resign in disgrace, and brought scrutiny that somewhat constrained Trump’s efforts.

When all this work came together, we won some of the toughest fights. Remember Republicans’ attempts to repeal the Affordable Care Act? Democrats did not have the votes to stop the repeal. Nevertheless, we fought on. Patients kept up a relentless rotation of meetings in Congress, activists in wheelchairs performed civil disobedience, and lawmakers used every tactic possible—late night speeches, forums highlighting patient stories, committee reports, and procedural tactics—to draw attention to the Republican repeal effort. This sustained resistance ultimately shifted the politics of health care repeal. The final vote was a squeaker, but Republicans lost and the ACA survived.

Democrats should also acknowledge that seeking a middle ground with a man who calls immigrants “animals” and says he will “protect” women “whether the women like it or not” is unlikely to land in a good place. Uniting against Trump’s legislative agenda is good politics because it is good policy. It was Democratic opposition to Trump’s tax bill that drove Trump’s approval ratings to what was then the lowest levels of his administration, forcing Republicans to scrap all mention of the law ahead of the 2018 midterm election and helping spark one of the largest blue waves in recent history.

Second, fight Trump in the courts.

Yes, extremist courts, including a Supreme Court stocked with MAGA loyalists, are poised to rubber-stamp Trump’s lawlessness. But litigation can slow Trump down, give us time to prepare and help the vulnerable, and deliver some victories.

Third, focus on what each of us can do.

I understand my assignment in the Senate, but we all have a part to play. During the first Trump administration, Democrats vigorously contested every special election and laid the groundwork to take back the House in the 2018 midterms, creating a powerful check on Trump and breaking the Republican trifecta. Whether it’s stepping up to run for office, supporting a neighbor’s campaign, or getting involved in an organization taking action, we all have to continue to make investments in our democracy—including in states that are passed over as “too red.” The political position we’re in is not permanent, and we have the power to make change if we fight for it.

Finally, Democrats currently in office must work with urgency.

While still in charge of the Senate and the White House, we must do all we can to safeguard our democracy. To resist Trump’s threats to abuse state power against what he calls “the enemy within,” Pentagon leaders should issue a directive now reiterating that the military’s oath is to the Constitution. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer must use every minute of the end-of-year legislative session to confirm federal judges and key regulators—none of whom can be removed by the next President. To those feeling despair: I understand. But remember, every step toward progress in American history came after the darkness of defeat. Abolitionists, suffragettes, Dreamers, and marchers for civil rights and marriage equality all faced impossible odds, but they persisted. Now it is our turn to pull up our socks and get back in the fight.

Elizabeth Warren wrote a well-written op-ed in Time encouraging Senate Democrats to confirm loads of judges and other jobs requiring Senate confirmation while we still have the majority and also fight back against the Trump tyranny.

#OpEds #Biden Administration #Time Magazine #Elizabeth Warren #Judicial Confirmations #118th Congress #2024 Presidential Election #2024 Elections #Judiciary

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last-starry-sky · 4 months ago

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put your ear to my heart // or set your teeth against my throat

shifter/monster!price x f!reader (this was written for @the-californicationist's nameless challenge, so he isn't named, but Price was def. my inspiration!)

[NSFW - MDNI - MIND THE WARNINGS: ~1k, mentions of murder, blood and gore, minor character death (reader’s bf), pet names, implied abuse of power, kidnapping, monster fucking (extra hair, claws, and teeth mentioned but nothing specific), unprotected piv sex, biting, crying, noncon/dubcon, mating press, cumming inside, unsanitary sex? (idk what to say here lmao), breeding kink (mentions of rutting and pregnancy), fingering, oral.]

Something lives in these woods.

A shapeshifter. A monster. Something you should stay away from. It lurks in those hills. Made a home somewhere in those thousands of dense trees in the forest around the mountain. This place has been it’s home for ages longer than this area has been a national park, you see.

It belongs to him. Not to you.

It doesn’t mind making one or two of those asshole "campers" or "hikers" disappear when they wander into his home, disrespecting his land either. This thing, it’s careful too. Nothing like how an animal would kill. Too smart. Too clean. Something that leaves nothing behind but an abandoned campsite. A smear of blood on a tree. A forgotten boot in a stream. A missing persons report growing colder by the year.

You don’t have to worry though, miss. You seem nice enough. You take only photographs, leave only footprints when you visit. Every single time. You stupid, silly thing. I guess it’s for the best that the loud, stupid man that you brought with you - he was your boyfriend, you said? shame - never came back from taking a piss in the middle of the night.

See, he didn’t follow the rules. Put out the fire. Stay on the trails. Never go anywhere alone. He didn’t care to learn that they weren’t your rules. They’re his rules, and now it’s too late for him.

It’s okay, little lady. I know you’re scared. It’s only natural when things like this happen in the dead of night! So how about you pack up your backpack and I give you a ride to the nearest ranger station? Doesn’t that sound like a good idea? It’s about to get awfully cold, and with your friend - sorry, boyfriend - missing, I can’t leave you alone out here.

The cabin is nice and cozy. I know you’ll like it. I’ll radio in the missing person - never mind that it’s supposed to piss rain for the next few days. The search team will never find what’s left of the body - and make you some hot cocoa. Strip down, let your soaked clothes dry by the fire, then you can curl up in my bed, sleep off this whole terrible situation.

Shame how those two people went missing last summer. That couple, remember? They found the guy a couple miles from the campsite I heard. Nasty stuff. Probably a grizzly or wolf from the damage. The rangers didn’t have much to show the cops by the time they were able to get there. Shit like this always happens right before the worst fucking weather, I swear. It was enough for a death certificate at least. The poor girl was never found, though. Heard she was a pretty experienced hiker. Loved that park, too. I sure hope they find her one day, even just to give her parents closure.

Meanwhile; you, miss missing person, are curled up safely in the strong, hairy arms of the thing that took rescued you that night. He covers you in flannel and furs, with enough wood next to the fire to keep it going through the night. No need for you to even think of leaving his hidden little love nest. He likes to hold you, your naked bodies twined together. He pets your hair and whispers sweet nothings about how perfect you are, how lucky he is, while you sleep curled into his chest.

His claws and canines emerge unintentionally at the thought of your shit-bag dead boyfriend. The thought of anyone besides him ever having you, of taking you away from him, it makes him see red. Makes him want to howl at the moon.

Don’t worry though, pet. He’ll slake the worst of his bestial need far away from you. Tear into some flesh, drink their warm blood. Their dying screams a background hum to the pounding in his ears.

You enjoy seeing him after a kill. He’ll return to you: sauntering up bold and naked, hair matted to his body with sweat and gore, mud spattered up to his thighs. He’s still in the in-between: thick body-hair not yet all the way receded, claws clacking the wood floor, mouth full of long, sharp teeth.

How sweet it is when you wipe their unworthy blood from his mouth before you tiptoe up to kiss him.

You act so gentle then, but he knows you’ll keen and cry for him to take you harder. Let his claws dent your soft flesh. Leave love bites, wet and red, down your neck. So open and soft and destructible for him. He loves to tear into you, cock pounding you speechless. Sometimes you cry, wet rivers running down your flushed cheeks, breathlessly begging too much. Your cunt doesn’t lie though. You’ve been soaked from the very beginning, only getting wetter once he pushed your legs to your chest to rail you into the bed. He’ll cum with a long, low growl, nuzzled into your neck. His cock emptying against your cervix.

Blood, mud, cum, sweat, rain, slick. It coats his happy trail, hair painting your belly as he fucks you. He loves seeing the mess he makes of you. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open, as he watches his cum ooze from his woman’s raw hole. Fuck he can’t wait to breed you. Come fall his rut will hit with those first long, cool nights and then you’ll be his. Permanently his. He’ll watch you grow round and ripe day by day, his little monster inside you, as you tuck in for the winter.

For now, though, he’ll have to be content with fingering your ruined pussy open. His tongue lapping over your neglected clit, sucking at you slowly until you quiver beneath him. You try to push him away, but he won’t move until he gets his fill. He’ll grunt, ignoring you to focus on slurping every bit of sweetness from your folds, leaving you clean and perfect once again.

He may be an animal in the shape of a man. He maims and murders. He kidnapped you, forced you to live this life. He never gave you a choice. Never will. But he will always eat you out until you’re shaking, crying out his name into the night air. You’ll always look at him so softly after, patting his cheek or ruffling his hair, as he catches his breath against your belly. It doesn’t matter how rough he was, how much blood is caked in his hair or mud there is underneath his nails. Right now, laying together sweating, panting like dogs: he is yours and you are his.

He’ll silently pull you to curl up in bed with him. Just like he always does. And you’ll fall into the warmth of his body, like you always do. Caressing your body, running his fingers through your hair. You sigh and sound so at peace. It makes him wonder if you would leave if you had the chance. Maybe, just maybe, this is right where you always wanted to be.

a/n: i SWEAR i was just trying to get back into the groove of writing daily, just wanted to jot this idea down in my random ideas doc, and this happened :x thank you very much to @gemmahale for linking me to the challenge! I hope you all enjoy and have fun guessing the entries!

The title is from the song “the garden” by the crane wives.

#mw2 #starry writes #cali's nameless challenge #price/reader #cod fanfic #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #aaaand he is revealed! eat well price girlies

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theredofoctober · 5 months ago

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MANNA- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: FISH

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, Daddy kink, cannibalism mentions, non consensual drug use

Read after the cut

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Two hours after guests and staff alike have made their egress from the house the host himself leaves it, getting into his car with a solitary glance up at your barred lodgings. You cringe from that look, from the purpose that coaxes him out like a stoat into the rain-clothed night.

Hannibal has known perhaps since the first Lover killing the culprit's identity and abode.

He himself is beyond a murderer, a master of games, lording himself above the board of life and only involving himself directly in that play when it serves to amuse him, or else he has no choice but to interfere.

It occurs to you that his current motivation is, in part, both the former and the latter, being that he’d likely sensed a collision with Freddie Lounds or some other disruptive circumstance that would result in his going after Amy again. He’d perhaps even devised such an event; you—predictably affected—had merely struck the spark of it into birth.

Always Hannibal’s intent has been to make some grand demonstration of his influence, a court magician with a vanishing trick: now you see it, now you don’t.

Who else has disappeared through his performance and returned only in death?

You’re convinced by now that he is indeed the Copycat, need only proof in absolutes to entirely believe it. But if he is so then all food consumed within this den has been of human produce, and there is no length of starvation nor manner of purging that will expunge this from your history.

They are part of you now, the whispering dead; you are built of cadavers, and the entrails of stars, and champagne, engorged with the reeking malign of the jackal you’ve become in your imprisonment.

You resign yourself to bed, feeling truly ill, and so do not hear when Hannibal returns in the early hours of the morning. Do not fully wake as he comes into your room, a needle between his fingers, nor when he whispers to you over the click of the metronome.

Nor, too, when through your lips he passes some fatty soup, which in a half doze you attempt to expel.

“You need to eat, my love,” he says. “Let’s try again.”

You dream of Savannah Belmont, her dark eyes turned grey in absence of life, sitting on a kitchen chair beside the muttering waters of a river. The fingers of her right hand play idly between her legs, and the other reaches into the foramen of her open gut, emerging full of water beetles and wriggling fish.

“I’m not hungry,” you say, as she offers them to you.

The dream repeats all night and on into the day until you think you may never escape its smothering hold.

You rise the following afternoon like the personification of the sin of Sloth, unsure what to make of Hannibal’s visitation, or of the hours lost to the shifting hallways of memory.

Grudgingly you go down through the house in search of your jailer, knowing that you must play inquisitor and have the truth of Amy’s fate out of him.

It is in the grand living room with its many decorative animal skulls that you find him, a king of the deceased amidst his plenty.

He sits in an armchair, holding his iPad on one crossed knee as he might the works of Kafka, dignified and invested in the screen. Standing on tiptoe to peep over his shoulder you see a news reporter standing against a backdrop of half bare trees.

The volume is low, only a scattering of words reaching your ears.

“Breaking... the woman thought to have been the most recent victim... found hitchhiking along a forest road just outside...”

"Amy," you say, aloud, and Hannibal part turns his head to you, his face like that of Jesus Christ, all grace and mercy.

"Hello, Little One,” he says. “Please sit with me. There's something I'd like you to see that should comfort you."

You hesitate to approach, your instincts a vortex of craving to run. Yet you must make nice with the monster, or else become his meat.

"Yes, Daddy," you mumble, and perch stiffly on the arm of Hannibal's chair, straightening your back in aversion to even accidental contact with him.

He blinks at your inappropriate use of his furniture, but does not reprimand you aloud. Instead he turns the iPad towards you and taps a forefinger on the screen.

“Police say the victim was kept in an abandoned shack after being struck in the head and abducted the previous night,” says the reporter. “Glass was able to escape through an unlocked door while her assailant was distracted by an unknown individual. After fleeing through a forested area she was able to find the nearest road and flag down a passing driver, who promptly called the police.”

“That was you,” you say, softly. “The ‘unknown individual’.”

Hannibal puts a finger to his lips.

“Keep watching, please.”

“Glass is suffering from concussion and minor memory loss, but is otherwise healthy,” says the reporter, through a grin of chemically whitened teeth. “Police are investigating the area in which she was held hostage for any evidence left by the attacker.”

The screen flashes to video of Amy, her eyes marbled with broken veins, bruising spread across her temple like an abstract watercolour piece. She’s wrapped up in an oversized sweater that only makes her look thinner within it, her every bone like armature against her skin.

Jealousy yanks at you like a vicious hook, and you find yourself appalled by your disease, that seeing a friend unwell inspires in you desire to replicate her sickness.

One of Amy's older brothers, Darrien, stands with an arm around her narrow shoulders, a surprise to you, being that they hadn't liked one another in childhood.

They both stand smiling like hospice patients forced to attend some miserable function against their will.

“I just want to say how grateful I am to be home with my family,” says Amy— she sounds stilted, almost scripted, unlike herself. “I know how lucky I am to be here. I’d like to thank Morgan Vance, who picked me up at 5am and never complained once. If she hadn’t stopped for me I don’t know where I’d be right now.”

“As a family, we’re asking for privacy,” says Darrien, and he rubs Amy’s shoulder, an unimaginable gesture from the boy who’d once shunned his sibling in school hallways. “I get people have a ton of questions, but right now we’d appreciate it if everybody gave us time to process everything.”

The news segment shifts to another topic, the falling of a church roof in Savage, Maryland.

You glance up at Hannibal, tears brimming in the fonts of your eyes. His face is pretty in the afternoon daylight, the age coaxed out of it by the sun.

"You saved her life,” you say.

"Yes."

Like a witch come to some blue blood’s birth he extends his curse to you as a gift, and you know better by now than to decline it.

In a whisper, you say, "Thank you."

"You're very welcome,” says Hannibal, and he puts a light hand upon your trembling knee, his thumb stroking the joint where a knife might cut it out. “I only hope that now you see the genuine intent behind my words, as well as my capabilities."

"How did you do it?” you ask. “How did you even find the Lover?"

Hannibal continues stroking your knee through your skirt, sending a tremble of sensitivity up your thigh.

"I've known his identity for some months now,” he says. “I can't tell you how just yet. But I can divulge that the Lover is following his own investigation, and knows that I've been helping Jack and Will when I can.

“Through this the Lover came to learn of our connection to you. When I called him to suggest Amy as his next interest he informed me that she’d already been considered."

You struggle down from the arm of the chair, taking a few hasty steps back.

"You... you gave her to him,” you stammer. “I knew it."

"And I returned her to you safely,” says Hannibal, patiently. “At my side, you'll receive all that you could ever ask of me, but as my enemy there is much to lose. I don't mean to threaten you, Little One. My interest is only in being truthful with you."

You gather your hands at your mouth, breathing in quick, stinging bursts.

"Why did the Lover want Amy?" you ask.

"He, like Freddie Lounds, had deduced some connection between you and Miss Glass. The Lover believed that abducting her would sow discord in our household, and therefore derail the investigation. I suggested that I agreed with his assessment."

How unemotionally he speaks of his this, as though reading aloud the introduction to some dull novel.

"Then what happened when you went out there the other night?” you ask, sweat staling your neck. “Why did he just let Amy go?"

"I told him that we'd made a mistake,” says Hannibal, “and that Will had grown suspicious. The abduction itself had gone poorly due to Amy putting up more of a fight than was expected of her; from Will's piecing together of the scene and certain evidence noticed there he would have located the shack the Lover was using in some days.

“So I encouraged the killer to allow Amy her freedom and abandon the building entirely. I’m told he burned it some minutes after her escape."

You picture your friend staggering by dark morning through some wood, the stink of smoke all through her hair.

"Won't she give you both up to the police?” you ask. “She must have seen his face, then there was the phone call—"

"Amy will remember very little prior to her liberty,” says Hannibal. “The avenue for her escape itself was staged by the Lover and I to resemble an unexpected interruption. I spent some hours with Amy before this, ensuring that she wouldn't stray from the official version of events. Her concussion is not the cause of her lost memories."

"You hypnotised her,” you say. “With the white lights. The ones from therapy."

You do not mention the day taken from you by similar practice, afraid of that vacuum of memory.

"You’re correct,” says Hannibal. “I did.”

"But her phone records—"

"The Lover removed Amy's cell phone from her person and took care to destroy it. I believe this is procedure with each of his killings."

Appalled, you wonder how you are to smile and be the swaddled baby of the doctor now the first layer of his ghillie suit has been shucked away.

"So you're like, friends with the Lover?” you ask, unable to entirely disguise your disgust.

"We are acquaintances,” says Hannibal, “with a similar goal: that of proving our love to an individual so adamantly set against receiving it."

He polishes the iPad with a thin cloth and puts it away in a silver case, labouring with a quiet delight over the mundane nature of routine.

"When are you going to tell Will who the Lover is?” you ask, bleakly. “You can't just let him kill more and more girls."

“Will is already on the verge of uncovering the killer's identity without my intervention,” says Hannibal. “By enticing the Lover to be reckless he has somewhat revealed himself, and is no longer the enigma he once was. Besides, if I were to unveil the Lover myself I would invite questions I cannot safely answer.”

Naturally he is self-preserving, first and foremost. But above all, to end the killer’s reign too quickly would bore him; from Hannibal’s handling of your own case you understand this.

"Don't you care about those dead girls at all?" you ask, and your captor smiles without warmth.

"Their deaths are part of the Lover’s exhibition. He is a crude artist, certainly, but he is not yet in possession of his muse. It’s satisfying to observe the progression of his work.”

Your balance wavers, threatens to give under the shock of this confession.

"Daddy,” you say, pitiful in your horror. “You’re scaring me."

Hannibal regards you with a kind of disappointment.

"God frequently inspires terror with His might, but those who follow Him with obedience need never fear His hand. I’d hoped that you might learn this through Amy's safe return."

Alarmed, you slip from the couch and kneel before Hannibal, feeling that you must display some false devotion or else be expelled as a heretic by terminal design.

"I'm grateful," you say, clutching at him with fervent hands. "I am, Daddy. I get why you did it. And I'm thankful you did what I asked. Just... please don't do anything like that again. I swear I'll try harder to be good. I'm trying to understand you. Really I am.”

Hannibal gazes down at you for a beat, seeming on the cusp of some internal decision.

"I can see that,” he says, at last. “And you’re young. There’s time yet for you to study under me.”

Will's voice, hoarse with illness, swerves through the room like an abrupt change in the forecast.

"What have I missed?"

You think to leap up and away from Hannibal as though caught in some illicit tryst, but a look from the older man impels you to remain, your cheek resting in his lap.

"She's offering me gratitude for my leniency regarding her outburst at the party," says Hannibal, unruffled by the interruption. "It's fortunate that my guests were unsurprised by Miss Lounds' deliberate attempt to provoke our Little One. They've been wholly charitable and sympathetic."

Will steps into view, his eyebrows almost at his hairline. His face is cadaverous and glazed with the resin of sweat.

The case, his illness: they suck from him his vigour, and though he is accomplice to your deadly keeper you’ve soul enough in you to pity him.

"Honestly, I don't know why you even invited Freddie,” he says. “It was a bad idea."

"In hindsight, I concur,” says Hannibal. “But my intent was to give the impression of having nothing to hide."

Will laughs and shakes his head.

"Freddie’ll see dirt on us both no matter what we do. Now she'll have even more of a reason to look."

"We mustn’t concern ourselves with the idle fodder of gossip columnists. I’ve had a stern word with Miss Lounds discouraging her from provoking our charge at future events. The matter is much resolved.”

Eyeing your sniffling figure, Will says, "Doesn’t look resolved from here.”

"There was another matter. Our Little One also chose to overindulge in champagne.”

Starting, you look up at Will and see him struggle not to laugh again.

Rather than be a hypocrite and side entirely with his friend, he asks, "Did you explicitly tell her she couldn't drink?"

"No," you pipe up from Hannibal's knee. "He didn't."

"I've never claimed to be faultless," says the doctor. "Evidently I haven’t been clear in my stance. But the implication was strong enough that you deliberately hid your drinking from me. You were far from subtle, I assure you."

You turn your face against his leg, hiding it in the fabric so as not to see the developing lust for punitive sex in his eyes.

"I’m sorry."

"Perhaps I'd be more inclined to believe that claim if you made a demonstration of it."

"Well, she knows how to give apologies," says Will, as much to diffuse the dark tension between you as to follow his own sensual curiosities. "I received one once in this exact room that seemed pretty genuine.”

“Hey," you say, rather hurt; you’d rather hoped he’d rise more strongly in your defence.

You’re uncertain whether the two men would be on such cordial terms if Will shared your knowledge of Hannibal. Yet already he suspects at least partly his shadows, and still is willing to flank him in the act of rape.

Still, you know his revulsion for the Lover to be genuine, see it in its wearying of him. There is a line for Will Graham, somewhere, but you do not know how long it will remain before he crosses it.

“Little One,” says Hannibal, gently reminding you of your duty.

As you begin working listlessly at Hannibal’s trouser button that Will says, "Mind if I help?"

For a moment you imagine him on his knees beside you, sharing the heavy phallus with eager tongue and coarse, pale hands, and you loathe the little light that flares between your compressed thighs.

Instead Will comes to stand behind you, smoothing back your hair as you bow your head to Hannibal; the other man bends likewise, arms going out to you as you consume him in a bite without teeth.

Four hands, then, upon you, two in your hair, twins caressing your face and neck with a touch that bears the prospect and willingness to love, should you become, like the dancing myth, a swan by night— you shift beneath that touch as ash, eating of the hated one as though for the taste of him.

You kiss his length, look up into the face that shunts through you a stake of killing fear and see him clearly, then, a legend brought earthwards by the wants he shares with men. See through the tiers of guise and truth that you fear most his humanity, that he can love.

Even in this coaxing to consent in your dismantlement you know it, see through a window of time how gently he would rear you as his own.

You do not want him, or this, and yet you feel yourself seduced by him, if only in a subconscious attempt to lessen the guilt that is sister to you.

His gaze, of lowered lids and pleasured shine, watches you with enjoyment. As your tongue whispers on his cock Hannibal murmurs to you praise and urging, sometimes an utterance of your name; while he is sated, you are safe, and so into your narrow throat you sink him down.

You owe him, you think, in some cosmic fashion, for the gold of two lives spared, yours, and that of Amy Glass. Like all Gods Hannibal demands his offering, and though you are no virgin you give yourself to that altar, raise and drop like the sun upon a mountain.

“That’s it,” says Hannibal. “My talented darling.”

Your mouth is a grail to him, some magic article; you know it from the breathy groans with which he exalts your attempts to satisfy.

“Don’t give her an ego,” says Will, but then he kisses your bent neck, and you feel a pulse between your legs again like the last heartbeat before death’s oblivion.

Hands, hands, mouths.

You take their lips on yours like a rat bite, assuming they’ve already long begun to infect you with their disease.

Then as you suck again, aware of Will’s thin form over you like a bower, enclosing you in the act, with them.

Mouths, mouths, hands, only one pair of which have not given themselves to murder, yet are not wholly clean of sin.

You wear your shame like a bridle as you mouth Hannibal’s cock, feel its restraint and harsh leading as you tongue him to his peak.

Will’s fingers tense slightly at your throat, something of his old meanness in it— threatened, you realise, by your curiosity in Hannibal’s affections for you, which you test now with your submission.

Even if Will ever offers up the steaming muscle of his own heart to you that unpleasantness will remain like gristle on the meat.

You do not wish to be a partner in this business of mystery and sex, and yet there is power in it, power with which you may bend Will to your side before you’re contorted by what you may become.

This you think even as you hold Hannibal between your jaws to swallow his finish, a desperate thought that may deliver you to some dinner plate. But you think of it still, think it even as you get up from your knees and turn to Will, twitching with resentment that he, to whom you’ve grown close, still allows you to be so abused.

Light as a fairy child on tip-toe you cross to him and push your wet mouth to the invitation of his lips, spilling warm seed between them so that he, too, might share in the taste of his man.

Will’s eyes widen, yet he does not withdraw from the affection, merely kisses you back with a silent passion. When you draw apart he swallows, glancing down and away from you, his fingertips on his mouth like a stitch, holding Hannibal in.

Later, when the doctor makes brief leave of the living room to prepare dinner, you find yourself looking at Will with the haughtiness of betrayal.

“I’d better address the elephant in the room,” he says, at last. “I should have been in your corner. It’s not easy playing both sides, but I know that night was hard for you. I won’t judge you for making a mistake.”

“I don’t care about that,” you say. “You should have told me the Lover took Amy. Sure, it’s been years since I’ve seen her or anything, but it doesn’t matter. You should have told me as soon as you knew.”

Will looks away into the fire.

“I didn’t want to be the one to hurt you with that news. If she hadn’t survived—”

“So what? I’d rather you hurt me than anybody else.”

You hear Will murmur your name, the beginnings of an explanation.

“I don’t care,” you snap, again. “I don’t want your apologies. I got you back for it, anyway.”

Will turns away quietly, ignoring the barb.

Then he says, “One. There’s another reason I’ve been holding back. Not just about Amy, though she’s part of it. Since the Copycat murder I’ve been thinking a lot about previous killings in the area. How similar they are to what happened to Savannah. Have you ever heard of the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“I don’t know,” you say, with a moody shrug. “Maybe.”

“Over the past few years he’s killed in groups of three, always putting the mutilated victims on display after removing their organs from their still living bodies. Savannah Belmont was also still alive when her stomach was cut out of her. Both killers have surgical knowledge.”

At this you twist towards Will’s armchair, watching nervily as he feeds a new log to the hearth.

“You think they might be the same killer?” you ask. “The Lover and this Ripper guy?”

“I won’t know for sure unless there are at least two other murders,” says Will. “He always follows a pattern.”

“But you can’t just wait for that to happen.”

“I know.”

You yearn to tell him about Hannibal, daren’t breath even a letter of his avowal.

“The organs the Ripper cuts from his victims,” you say. “Do you know what he does with them?”

Will glances up, rapidly alert.

“The way you’re asking me that makes me think you’ve made some kind of guess,” he says. “You want to tell me what it is?”

At first you say nothing, knees brought high under your chin like a child’s.

“Will,” you whisper. “What if he eats them?”

#yandere hannibal lecter #yandere will graham #will graham x reader #tw noncon #tw nonconsensual drug use #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #will graham #darkfic #dead dove do not eat

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poisonousquinzel · 30 days ago

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"I want truly evil and sadistic female villains!"

"please you losers can't even handle harley quinn without reducing her to Poor Abused Victim™️ of their boyfriends who Never Actually Wanted to Kill... even though it's canon she wasn't/isn't a victim and very much enjoyed/enjoy hurting others"

hmm, is the canon in the room with us?

is it?

In the afterword, artist Bruce Timm shares that their Harley was based in part on a real-life friend who was stuck in an abusive relationship: “I’m happy to report that the ‘real-life Harley’ did finally break away from her ‘Joker’ and has been happily married to another man for several years now.”

[Source]

is it?

fucking is it?!

Just because some of you lack the ability to understand literally anything about her character and the nuances she's always had doesn't mean folks are just "unable to handle" accepting she's actually a Bad Guy and are reducing her character down. Y'all are the ones spouting fanon nonsense.

You're the ones unable to handle Harley Quinn. You're the ones reducing and dismissing the canon complex moral dynamics and trauma responses her character canonically holds/has held for over 30 fucking years because you want her to fit a specific mold she never has primarily.

She is a poor abused victim because she is in fact, a fucking abuse victim. by definition she is, like ????? have you not looked at her content beyond Mad Love fan art and fan edits on YouTube? Genuinely???

cause oh no how dare people sympathize with an abused woman who's been shown being beat and abused and belittled by her boyfriend since the goddamn 1990s. do you hear yourselves? you're either ridiculously misinformed, delusional, or just actually glamorize and fetishize the physical violence inflicted on her by The Joker if you think she's not, canonically, an abuse victim.

Her status as a survivor of domestic violence is written in permanent ink on the foundation for her existence. You can't erase that, Harley Quinn, since the very beginning in Batman: The Animated Series and that universe, has been an abuse victim of the Joker's and has growth outside of him. She lives a normal, crime free life without him in the end, she gets married, she has kids, she has grandkids. She is not inherently prone to violence, she is not a female Joker.

Reducing her character down to "evil sinister woman who blindly and obediently follows her uh loving boyfriend's lead and loves hurting everyone who isn't them and never cared ever because she's a bad person and we need to accept that she's just a rotted heartless, selfish person in her core and always has been and always should be." is stripping all the actual canonical complexity / interesting layers of her existence down to a shallow, hollow foundation.

And it's just fucking boring. Omfg, it's such a lame, one dimensional idea for a character that otherwise is vibrant with characterization, who's full of meaning and layers and flaws and who encompasses the core of Batman's hope for his rogues.

Pure evil female villains are wonderful and we deserve more of them, but one day you guys will have handle and accept the fact that Harley Quinn has never been one of those characters and she never will be primarily.

Get. Over. It.

#harley quinn #harleen quinzel #dc comics #tw clown boy #tw abuse #dcau #like the one you're speaking about is the fanon one ????? omfg #tw blood

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itachi-uchiha-week · 27 days ago

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『ITACHI WEEK 2024 RULES & GUIDES』

Last updated: October 27th, 2024

Most of the rules are no-brainers. If you still have any specific questions, however, you will likely find an answer in the guidelines outlined below. It is possible that breaking the rules will get you banned, so we at least recommend reading those marked with an asterisk [*].

Participation

• Any and all Itachi fans may participate! Haters will not be tolerated and may be blocked preemptively. * • Similarly, we may block and ban users from the event due to abusive behavior or other transgressions. For that, please refer to all rules marked with an asterisk [*]. • We do not require signups or otherwise committing to the event. Feel free to show up and leave however you like or your schedule allows.

Event Period

• Our event period is 23rd-29th of December, 2024 per your own individual timezone. • We do not accept early submissions, though you may post WIPs and we will gladly reblog them onto this account. Late submissions will be accepted until the end of January.

Submission Guidelines

• Eligible submissions will be reblogged to @itachi-uchiha-week. If we forgot or didn't see your submission, feel free to send us an ask about it. • Submissions should tag the @itachi-uchiha-week blog. We also encourage using the #itachiweek2024 tag for all submissions but that is not always a reliable submission method. • You are not required to depict any of the suggested prompts for as long as your submission is Itachi-centric. But if you do, mention the prompt that inspired your submission either in the body of the post or down in the tags. • This event is strictly Tumblr-centric. If you wish to submit content from an external site, you will need to link it on a Tumblr post for us to find it. • Preferably, all long posts should utilize a cut to facilitate scrolling through posts. • You may dedicate a new installment (eg. a fanfiction update) to Itachi Week or repurpose an unfinished WIP but please do not repost old projects. This is a creation event, not a promotion event. • Similarly, even with explicit permission obtained, you shall not republish work (ie. copy-paste) from other users.

Content Guidelines

• We accept various forms of media. Here is an incomplete list of what we accept: Writing: Fanfiction, Poems, Drabbles, Headcanons, Analysis/Meta Art: Fan Art, Fan Animations, Cosplay, Crafts Edits: Manga Edits, Anime Edits, GIFs Mood: Playlists, Moodboards, Web Weaving Posts • NSFW, kinks, gore, and otherwise contentious content is permitted but has to be tagged accordingly and tucked behind cuts. * • In addition to the above, we recommend you tag ships ("kakaita", "itaizu", etc.) and anti/pro opinion pieces ("pro sasuke", "anti konoha", etc.) to avoid unnecessary conflict. • Due to Tumblr's ToS, you may want to censor explicit material (and post an uncensored version to an NSFW-/gore-friendly site) to avoid any complications. • AI content will not be permitted in this event. That does also include Chat Bots such as Character.AI. *

Conduct

• We are open to different interpretations of Itachi Uchiha for as long as they are not hateful. Do not mock other users for their opinions. We do not gatekeep. * • We do not condone any forms of abusive behavior against real people, be it part of your submission, on your own blog, or even in the confines of your DMs. Harassment and bullying will not be tolerated. * • You may report abusive behavior to us via Asks. However, we will ask you to provide sufficient evidence. We will contact you via DMs. • We are not responsible for the kinds of content produced during this event. Any content reblogged to this account will be thoroughly tagged. If you dislike any specific ship, opinion, character, etc. we recommend blocking the tag. You cannot control what others post, only what you yourself will see.

• The copyright of the submitted works is your own. We do not acquire any rights over your creations through your participation. • Unauthorized editing, stealing, or otherwise infringing on another user's copyright will not be tolerated. You may utilize their content but only with their explicit permission. * • You may utilize official content (ie. Kishimoto's illustrations, Studio Pierrot's animations, etc.) but only at your own risk. We are not responsible for any copyright transgressions committed by other users.

If you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to reach out via Asks.

| About | Prompts | Rules&Guides |

#itachi week #itachiweek2024 #itachi #itachi uchiha #naruto #naruto shippuden #rules&guides

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sams-venting · 2 months ago

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I think when people are saying these are normal fandom issues, it's not saying that these things are okay, or should be accepted/tolerated, it's implying that every fandom has these issues. Every fandom deals with harassment, and bullying. That's a risk you take when you join a fandom.

These are normal fandom issues, every fandom I've ever been in has had these issues. The way we "win" in this instance is by refusing to having "neutral" conversation with the harassers. Block accounts that cause issues, screenshot harassment and report posts. Eventually they'll run out of avenues to contact victims with, and we need to warn people that this is an issue.

That's how you deal with harassment in a fandom space. You make sure people are ready to block and report, you don't foster conversation with problematic (as in real life actions, not fucking fiction) people, and you curate your internet experience. The only one that can keep you safe is you.

There will always be toxicity in fandom because fandom is made by people, and people are toxic. This is why every fandom has pedophiles, zoophiles, groomers, people like the gore anons, because humans are attracted to community. And some people are attracted to community for malicious purposes.

However, TSAMS is a very tame fandom compared to others. I agree with the earlier anon that it doesn't deserve to be compared to the fandom where zoophilia and animal abuse was encouraged by the community.

#sams venting blog #tsams venting blog

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tinamaetales · 1 month ago

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The Hurt Men

“Mother looking at me, tell me what do you see? Yes, I've lost my mind. Daddy looking at me, will I ever be free? Have I crossed the line?” - t.A.Tu. , All the things She said

Traumatized people deal with their trauma differently. Some choose to heal, while others choose to pass it on. But there are some "unique" cases when victims snap and do something that once the rage is over, they can never take it back - the kind of thing they cannot undo. And that's how I ended up having a blog post about the Menendez brothers whose fate ends up being a public spectacle and whose trauma can only be understood by those who were either traumatized themselves or those with empathy for victims of abuse. After I learned about their story, I cannot help but feel hurt for them. I do not know them personally but what they have been through is not foreign to me. I know there are already a lot of opinions and discussions about them online due to the resurgence of interest in their case but let me just add my point of view on this - the point of view of another victim whose story was also doubted.

It is embarrassing to admit that my introduction with the Menendez brothers was that netflix series that I now know is filled with inaccuracies. The actors did a great job, ngl, but the storyline itself is the problem. If someone who has no interest in knowing more about them would only watch the netflix series or if someone who is gullible, they would think that it was an accurate portrayal of the Menendez story. I felt uncomfortable halfway through watching the show so I did my own research and watched documentaries and even watched the real trial videos and I realized that the brothers are truly victims themselves. I am in no way justifying that murder is okay. Yes, what the brothers did to their parents was wrong. There is no argument with that but they do not deserve to be given life sentences without parole when they never receive justice for what was done to them. We can all argue about the other ways they could have handled the situation but there is just one thing that I would like to point out here: for all the other crimes we can find a reason but not and will never be for rape. Yes, we can find a reason as to why people commit other crimes. Someone committed fraud and stole lots of money? It was poverty. Someone is staying in a country undocumented? It was desperation and poverty. But with rape? What is the fcking reason for that? Lust? Even animals can control themselves and humans are above animals. Looking at the childhood photos of the Menendez brothers and learning about how their father started sexually abusing them as early as the age of 6 made me feel so angry. How on earth can he do that to those children? It was so sick and so evil!

Whenever cases of sexual abuse come to light, the ones people tend to question more (and even harassed) were the victims. Almost all the time, victims will get asked with "Why did you only speak up now?" It was as if what happened was the victim's fault and not reporting immediately automatically means the victim should be doubted. Is our world really sick that way? What I noticed with cases like these is the responsibility always falls on the victims. It's either, "maybe it was what you were wearing" or "maybe you liked it" or "you should have said no" to the victims and never "why did you do it?" "How could you do it?" "What the hell is wrong with you?" to the rapists. And we all wonder why some victims choose to stay silent, right? No one in their right mind would accuse someone of something as heavy as rape when the burden of shame lies on them and not on the rapist so I do not understand why victims are always doubted and even villainized. But of course, this is not only limited to SAs. There are also victims of physical, verbal and emotional abuse who are afraid to speak up because they know that most of the time the public's sympathy yearns towards the abuser. I remember how a rape case ended up with the rapist sentenced to 3 years imprisonment (not even a fucking decade in prison for rape, wth!) just because the judge argued that the rapist was a promising athlete and it would be such a waste of life....but what about the victim who is living with trauma for basically the rest of her life? Why is it that when it comes to rape cases, the victims get the most difficult time getting justice?

"Why did you only speak up now?"

That was the question most rape victims have to deal with when they finally decide to tell what happened to them. Lyle and Erik obviously have to deal with the same question too since their abuse comes to light during the trial. People doubted them saying that if they were really abused then why are they only speaking up during the trial and coincidentally as part of their defense. Such questions will be followed up by the victims having to prove that what happened to them was true. The victims will have no choice but to relive the traumatic events by narrating it. For the case of the brothers, not only do they have to narrate their trauma but they also have the rest of the world watching them and judging them as they do so. I cannot imagine the mental and emotional challenge they were facing as they relived the abuse while all eyes are on them and a slight change in tone, or a single misused word, or a simple change in facial expression would end up for their testimony to be doubted. This is the very reason why some victims choose to take their abuse story with them to the grave because of the shame, judgment, and humiliation they have to face.

"Maybe you liked it"

For the victims of sexual abuse whose abuse went on for years, they would encounter the judgmental words like “maybe you liked it” because that is just how society works right? The expectation is that when you did not fight back instantly and allowed yourself to be abused repeatedly then maybe “you liked it” Apparently, not having the courage to fight back and end the abuse automatically diminish the guilt of the abuser, such a sick and disgusting narrative! For Lyle and Erik, it was easy for people to judge them and tell them that they should have just run away but how could they do that if they fear their parents? Most abuse victims have the same situation of not having the guts to tell someone and just run away not because they “liked it” but because of fear. Another thing, their abuse started when they were very young so they were groomed to feel as if what was happening was normal. Sometimes, it would even take years for victims of abuse to realize they are being abused. And what comes along with the realizations is the decision to just keep it a secret forever.

Lyle and Erik killed their parents, that's the truth. But what is also true is Lyle and Erik were both sexually abused by their father which started at the early age of six. While Lyle's abuse eventually stopped, Erik's abuse continued. And for victims like Erik, it felt like there was no way out of the hell his own father puts him through. When he confided to his older brother, Lyle, about this and eventually learned that Lyle was abused too, do people really think that the brothers just pat each other's back and said "Omg bro, same!" no they did not. And by the kind of father they have, of course they fear for their lives. Imagine having to live in constant fear of your abuser, who btw, you share the same roof with - it was torture, of course. Like I said, I am not defending that what they did was right. But when they end up killing their parents, it was not a sane decision but a trauma response. A sane person would not just grab a shotgun and start firing at their parents but a traumatized person could and would especially if they think that it is their only way out.

“Mother looking at me, tell me what do you see? Yes, I've lost my mind.”

One of the arguments for the Menendez brothers’ case is if what they had done was imperfect self defense and not because of money then why did they include their mother. If one would only look at this case on a surface level the conclusion they will come up with might be “ok, if the abuse was real, why include the mom?” Because the mother was involved with the abuse too, that is the answer. She knew what was happening and yet she did nothing. In fact, she even abused her sons. Although the netflix series is not 100% accurate in telling the Menendez case, this line from Atty. Leslie Abramson pretty much sums up what we should feel about their mother: “But for her to have known and to not have intervened…there were a lot of avenues that she could have taken there, okay? Where she could have gone to the authorities, where she could have said ‘No, not my sons. You will not abuse my sons’ Right? And that’s a pretty low bar, okay?And she didn’t do that. Not because of you but because of her. Yes, you can love her, yes you can sympathize with her….but you deserved better” For me, those who have known about the abuse but remained silent are just as guilty as the abusers specifically when, unlike the victims, you have the power to actually do something about the situation. What kind of a mother are you to know about the abuse happening to your own children and then turning a blind eye and eventually joining the abuse? It’s absolutely appalling.

“Daddy looking at me, will I ever be free? Have I crossed the line?”

All I can feel for their father is fury and disgust, not even a tiny bit of sympathy for him. He deserved what happened to him, every single bullet. In fact, I even feel that he got it easy. Yes he was shot 16 times or maybe more but at least he’s dead. He died easily. His sons, on the other hand, have lived their entire lives traumatized because of what he did and are now living their lives in prison because of what he made them do. While the netflix series was titled as Monsters: the Lyle and Erik Menendez story, the real monster in this case is Jose Menendez. There is just simply no explanation with what he had done. How can you do that to those children? Not just two young boys but his own children? Why did he do that? How could he do that? There is no punishment fitting enough for rapists like him. His fate is nothing compared to the kind of hell he put his sons through. He is a monster and I hope that hell is real and he is at the lowest part of it and is feeling the most excruciating pain imaginable for eternity.

While writing this blog post, I was reminded of these certain lyrics from the song “Dollhouse” by Melanie Martinez, the first one: “No one ever listens. This wallpaper glistens. One day they'll see what goes down in the kitchen” and the second one: “Everyone thinks that we're perfect. Please don't let them look through the curtains. Picture, picture, smile for the picture” because those lyrics seem to perfectly describe the Menendez family. They appeared to be a normal rich family but the secrets they have are so horrific so I fully understand why the brothers decided to keep their abuse a secret for so many years. At the end of the day, no family is truly perfect. Just because they are rich does not mean that the children never experienced sexual abuse. Sometimes, those who appear to be perfect are the ones who have been concealing dirt.

Writing this blog post does not mean I am justifying the way the brothers killed their parents or I am trying to erase the fact that the crime happened. There was a crime and it was manslaughter. The crime happened because the brothers felt like there was no other way out. We all say that victims deserve support but that support diminishes when their trauma response is not what society expects them to do. They already did their time for their crime, it’s time to set them free.

To Lyle and Erik, I believe you.

TinaMae

PS, I was at the height of my emotions while writing this blog post because I just feel so much sympathy and empathy for victims of abuse. As an abuse victim myself, I know the feeling of wanting to be heard and believed. So if anyone who reads this needs a safe space, you can message me. I know I am just a random stranger online but please know that I understand and I will not judge you.

#personal #tinamae tales #menendez brothers

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hyumjim · 8 months ago

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Oh yeah I have been thinking about this for a while re: overzealous callouts typically targeting trans women. Basically I shudder to think what any of you people would do with even an ounce of institutional power. I have one of those jobs where I’m a mandated reporter of child abuse. And for my job I spend time in people’s homes. And I’ve been doing this job for seven years. If I have good reason to suspect that a child is being abused then I need to call child protective services. You know how many times I have done this over seven years? Twice. And both times it was because a child asked me directly to do it. And I sat with both kids and we called CPS together. In one case this resulted in the cops coming to their house and in the other case, nothing happened. In both cases I stayed with them for as long as I could.

Now, over the years of course I’ve heard a number of questionable things. I’ve thought, yeah, this person is probably hitting their kid. I mean, it happens a lot, and some degree of corporal punishment is still normalized in many homes. I don’t condone that, and I’ve had a lot of conversations with parents about it and suggested many alternatives. But the bottom line is that I cannot be trigger-happy when it comes to calling CPS. CPS is a deeply flawed system. Many of the people I work with are extremely used to having CPS called on them. Truancy from school on its own is enough to open a CPS case and criminalize parents. Abuse absolutely happens and needs to be addressed when it does, but so often, police involvement, system involvement is not the answer. Kids get removed from homes and placed with foster families who can be more abusive, less closely monitored, and don’t even have the relational bond that acts as a protective factor. Parents receive the message that they are unfit to care for their children, which makes them worse as parents, and the cycle continues, etc.

So whenever something that’s questionable comes up, I always speak to my supervisor about it and we discuss whether or not I need to take it to CPS. But the answer is almost always ‘no.’ It’s a last resort, only to be used when absolutely necessary. And even in cases where it’s absolutely a necessity, like the one I mentioned where the cops came? That call resulted in me being cut off from the young person entirely. Because his abusive mother knew that I made the report, and forbade me from ever speaking with him again. Which she can do, because he’s her child. For all I know, nothing came of the investigation and his parents retaliated against him more harshly than before. So do you think I made the right call?

Mind you, I’ve seen all sorts of really fucked-up family dynamics, all kind of patterns of emotional turmoil between families, a lot of parents saying terrible things that I think nobody should say to a child, and vice versa. It’s my job to sit with these things and try to help. Not to call someone to come and take away the problematic person.

The point is that I’ve had to sit and think deeply about when to report abuse, as part of my job, for years and years of my life now. And I see the ease and eagerness with which people on here will smear a trans woman as a pedophile with the flimsiest of evidence (i.e. agreed with another user who turned out to be an abuser; has kinks that are triggering to me personally; has innocuous sfw art on her blog of a teen anime character). And I think wow, if you guys had a job like mine you would be ruining people’s lives frequently. Just something to think about.

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hersheythecure · 3 months ago

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Earlier when I was sitting drinking tea, someone came and showed me the times he would gaslight us about having DID. I say gaslight in hindsight because back then I thought he was trying to help me not latch onto a diagnosis because I wasn't a doctor. Well he believed me this whole time but must've just wanted to see me suffer on some sadistic timing. He wrote in my planner before my best friend picked up my stuff the day after he tried to hurt my minor little sister. He wrote in the back and I didn't even see it till two weeks or so later. He acknowledged my parts and apologized to the ones that showed themselves to him.

It is absolutely possible to not know which parts are in here and which present in the body beside those parts.

Like I would dissociate and it'd be blurry but I'd see myself crying and wailing and getting upset because something was happening and he was invalidating it. And I kept telling him don't do that because it's not working for my system. It's making us worse. And .maybe he'd forget or maybe not. But it pushed me to suicide a lot. I didn't understand why the man in the beginning turned into the man at those times. I couldn't name what he was doing to me so it made me dissociate even more. I felt so confused and just stupid or wrong. And I didn't have the words to say what I was trying to explain. To remember the details to tell my therapist was hard. Like I know I'm supposed to know this thing but it's nowhere in my mind.

Abusers count on your amnesia systems. They count on you being dissociated so what they do to you, you can't report them for. Your brain is trying to protect you always. And when someone who does research on everything learns that, they should not use it to take advantage of you, but tohelp you.

I showed my counselor his letters. She asked me if I wrote them in a dissociative episode and I told her no. The moment I discovered them I told his little sister who told me she told him not to do it. Not to write in any of my stuff. My counselor also noted that each letter was a different penmanship and it begs me to question if he's dissociative as well.

I found writing somewhere else that he wrote when he came to be with me in GA in 2020. He called himself an animal. He said he's going to become a new animal. Not a new man but an animal. Who says that about themselves?

He's always been hunting and preying. And I just fell into his trap. It only makes me think about all the vulnerable people falling into these predators traps. The ones that have no one like me. Just out in the world alone. I want to make the world a better place for me. For my kiddo. For them.

She cried and cried and I cressed my arms hugging myself comforting her and telling her I'm sorry he did that to you.

There's so much I feel guilt for about forcing my system to conform to a life with a good man. I couldn't see the other parts. I was too busy dealing with the psychosis and hallucinations from my flashbacks. I did the best I could with the information I had. And when I got new information I immediately conversed with my system to protect us and our kiddo. I did my best.

I don't want anyone to hurt me anymore. If UT wasn't for my son I would take my life. I would. That's how much I'm tired of being hurt.

#journaling #suicide tw

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renniejoy · 6 days ago

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By Sen. Elizabeth Warren

November 7, 2024 3:34 PM EST

As we confront a second Donald Trump presidency, we have two tasks ahead. First, try to learn from what happened. And then, make a plan.

...

What comes next? Trump won the election, but more than 67 million people voted for Democrats and they don’t expect us to roll over and play dead. We will have a peaceful transition of power, followed by a vigorous challenge from the party out of power, because that’s how democracy works. Here’s a path forward.

First, fight every fight in Congress.

During the Trump years, Congress stepped up its oversight of his unprecedented corruption and abuses of power. In the Senate, Democrats gave no quarter to radical Trump nominees; we asked tough questions and held the Senate floor for hours to slow down confirmation and expose Republican extremism. These tactics doomed some nominations entirely, laid the groundwork for other cabinet officials to later resign in disgrace, and brought scrutiny that somewhat constrained Trump’s efforts.

Second, fight Trump in the courts.

Third, focus on what each of us can do.

Finally, Democrats currently in office must work with urgency.

To those feeling despair: I understand. But remember, every step toward progress in American history came after the darkness of defeat. Abolitionists, suffragettes, Dreamers, and marchers for civil rights and marriage equality all faced impossible odds, but they persisted. Now it is our turn to pull up our socks and get back in the fight. (x)

#politics #nevertheless we persist

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cyanocoraxx · 2 years ago

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oh my god i HATE those videos on fb of “animal rescues” that are CLEARLY staged because people still believe them. people still give these pieces of shit a platform, give them the clout they’re so desperate for, which allows them to do it again and again. how are they always conveniently filming when an animal is in distress and needs to be “saved”????? and in the most abstract of situations as well??? and using the exact same animal in multiple videos as well? it just boggles my mind that these things aren’t investigated further.

anyway this is how to spot a staged animal rescue video:

- the animals are in settings you wouldn't normally find them in, such as a "wild" forest species in an urban setting. they might claim that the predator in the video is a wild animal from that area when it’s not. it’s likely a captive animal being used for the video. think a “wild” reticulated python outside of its natural range for example.

- check the other videos posted by the person for the same animals being used, or the same environment seen multiple times. you might see the same markings on the animal or the same landmarks.

- the human "rescuer" concludes inappropriately. they might hold the two animals in separate hands and then hold them close to each other or close to the camera when they should be a safe distance apart. it’s more about them being the hero than assisting the animal in distress.

- the "rescuer" does not seek professional veterinary help or provide other medical care for the animals, ending the clip with the "successful" rescue and giving no more context.

- the video is not created by a reputable animal rescue agency.

- it seems unusual that the person is filming. the rescue would be made quicker by putting the phone down and helping.

these "creators" take your empathy and hope and turn it into blatant animal abuse and exploitation. report these clips. it’s important that we shut this shit down to deter more copycats.

#txt #animal cruelty tw

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thespamman24 · 1 year ago

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If I see another post about pitbulls being some sort of baby-munching beasts, I will strangle someone.

Pitbulls scored 85% on temperament tests performed by the World Animal Foundation, meaning they are in the top 25% of best tempered dog breeds.

Wanna know why there is a significant amount of pitbull attacks? Because they're the most common breed of dogs in the United States. Not only that, but people are less likely to need to go to a hospital for a chihuahua bite, so pitbull bites are more reported.

Yes, pitbulls are dangerous in the sense that they can do damage to you if they so wanted to, but they are not evil dogs, and they are not more dangerous than dogs of their same size. Obviously, Pittbulls are more dangerous than, say, a pomeranian, but that's because they're, you know, bigger.

Oh, and also, pitbulls are one of the most widely misidentified dogs, with many reported pitbull attacks being from other species of dogs.

Source:

Now, obviously, if you see a pitbull who is acting dangerously, you should stay back. I am not saying they are always balls of sunshine who are incapable of smooshing ants. However, people need to stop spreading this rediculous myth that they are more aggressive than other dogs, or that they are inherently viscious, which is straight up not possible.

Here's a quote from The Canine Human Network: "Pit bulls are not inherently aggressive. On the contrary, according to the American Temperament Test, pit bulls and mixed breeds consistently score above the average for all breeds tested, year after year."

Source:

And that's not even mentioning the fact that many pitbulls are abused, which is a story for another time.

Oh, and also, pitbulls were not bred for fighting. Some were bred for fighting, but others were bred for work and companionship.

Here's a link to the World Animal Foundation Article, as well as a WEBMD and a Newsweek article for good measure.

The Newsweek article also specifically addresses the myth that Pitbulls are violent towards children.

In conclusion, if you see a pitbull frothing at the mouth, then you should not go up to pet it, and if a pitbull is abused, then it may act agressive. However, the same applies to a hound dog, a golden retriever, and a human being. It is perfectly safe to adopt a pitbull from an animal rescue shelter, and it is perfectly safe to have them as family dogs. Stop defaming the good name of these good doggies.

#serious post #dogs

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 2 years ago

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tuesday again 2/21/2023

despite two sections clocking in at one sentence each, i had a lot of thoughts about a video game so this one is the normal creeping-up-on-2k-words length

listening

brian david gilbert's rgss must be presented without comment.

youtube

reading

earlier last year a regional gas station chain offered a whopping twenty five cents off per gallon. many terms and conditions applied. the one that made me scoff and delete the app right there at the pump was that location data had to be on at all times. not just when you were using the app or in a geofenced area around the gas stations, all the time. i hate people knowing where i am. i despise my data being sold. do not advertise to me. fuck off.

last year this made me briefly wonder about the loyalty programs i have with the regional supermarket chains, big y and stop & shop. i don't even want to think about whatever instacart was collecting on me much earlier in the pandemic. unfortunately i can choose not to drive as much but i really should not eat less and i do love a loss leader sale. and then i had to move again and forgot about it. earlier this week my favorite data scientists at The Markup dropped a...upsetting article on kroger's data practices, which can include in-store tracking, biometrics, facial recognition, and when shopping on kroger.com: "Third-party trackers send your product page views, search terms, and items that you have added to your shopping cart to Meta, Google, Bing, Pinterest, and Snapchat." did you know they have their own spinoff data company? for why, you might ask?

Experts told The Markup that companies that sell products in grocery stores don’t have much visibility into what happens after their items are placed on shelves. These brands want granular shopping data that only supermarkets have in order to gauge the success of the brands’ products. In recent years, this data has become harder to come by and therefore more valuable.

i try very hard not to be be doom and gloom about tech bc reporting already tends toward the hysteric, and usually there is stuff i can do or a different option i can take to avoid a package of my data being sold and linked to other packages of my data. however, it is unrealistic to leave my phone at home and pay with cash, and financially i can't afford to opt out of these loyalty programs. sucks! sucks real bad! The Markup articles are pretty good at making the american senate take notice, but they are very slow and do not always fully understand tech abuses, bc their average age is sixty fuckin three.

watching

im ticking along in adventure time, in the middle of season six, the last real long season before we get down to twenty and fourteen episode seasons. there has been an amusing string of episodes where finn and jake aren't present or are only present briefly. this show will wander off to tell the most heartrending story about a character you will never see again, and this episode will stick with you for ten years.

ive also been looking at the fandom (i know) wiki page for each episode, bc why not, and it is a very funny fan wiki. a great deal of emphasis on animation errors with the caveats that maybe the miscolored arm of a princess in episode whatever actually means there's two princesses of that kingdom and we're only seeing the second one for the first time now. whenever the show references a classic work, the note in the wiki has the tone of "ugh this weird old thing why is my show making a joke about it". if an episode won an emmy (this show won fifteen emmys btw) it is usually the very last thing on the page bc that's not lore or errors or connections to other episodes why should you care??? either a very specific type of guy or a bunch of young teens wrote this. probably a bunch of young teens that grew up to be a very specific type of guy.

playing

thank u for all ur open world rpg recs, i think horizon zero dawn is the closest thing to what i want but i will probably end up playing Prey first (which has exactly one of the many qualities i want and is not open world even a little bit) bc it is a game i actually own. but im here to say i know im having a depressive episode when im listening to a lot of mother mother and playing f/allout 4. anyway we're back at it again in far harbor, which at least contains the most interesting storytelling in the game. can we all say hello to andre, bethesda's eleventh first gay character?

coming up on this drive-in theater with an incongruous neon heart looming out of the mist and spooky music plus screams from the horror movie trailer that's been playing on loop since the bombs dropped is SO fun. nothing on the mainland is quite this atmospheric. the fog really does heighten the fun of exploration. i know dead money did it first and better but this is less dire than dead money. usually.

also i forgot they're showing a western staring Legally Not Lee van Cleef if u switch the reels. this is not even getting into the delightful enemy encounter at this location bc i have a different location i want to talk about

GOD the MS Azalea (the one screenshot that isn't mine and is from the wiki) is so fun to run around. a rusted out, ripped in half cargo ship with five different sections (guardpost, top of ship, shipping container apartments on top of ship, inner sheltered harbor within ship and floating kitchen/pool table parlor, floating bar and clinic lashed to ship entered by swimming or elevator down from the top of the ship, sheltered harbor between two halves of the broken ship. each of these sections uses vertical space in interesting ways bc the ship is so fucking big. there is a straight up House underneath that boat. and everything feels very lived in, there's clutter and signs of life everywhere. these guys are just vibing with their little stores and their little apartments. a smarter game or a game with more time would have leaned into "you were sent to kill these guys by the townsfolk bc they felt threatened by an unaffiliated settlement" but alas. the trappers on the boat are just xp.

it is very funny that the lighthouse on the south end of the island refuses to load in properly, no matter where i am

this dlc, more than anything else in the game, actually does feel like my choices matter. i do the missions for the mariner and the barricade physically changes. i do enough fairly complex quest chains for enough of the town and they decide they like me enough to go build settlements. seeing the settlement fog condensers off in the distance from across the island feels very different from the mainland, where generally your settlement's buildings don't pop in until you're pretty fucking close.

i really don't care about how big the map is, i want the main game to be this dense and this bold in telling a stories, start to finish, that feel very interconnected and grounded to its location. i am feeling a little conflicted with my playtime, bc i gotta lotta fucking bones to pick with this game, but i am having fun with this dlc. part of it is "what if fallout/the rest of the game was good" and part of it is the depression making any scrap of delight feel weird. so it goes. february will end eventually.

making

did my taxes.

#i feel like this one does not particularly invite commentary or discussion but that's the way the week rolls sometimes #tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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mybelovedwoo · 2 years ago

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Long Journey - Chapter 2: Stitching Secrets

Life hurts a lot, that's just how it is. At least that is what Destiny thought, living a life where living hurts more than dying. But one day everything changes when an unexpected guest appears. What does this long journey hide behind? Will it be worth it to be alive again?

"Sailors tell stories, Pirates make legends!"

ateez pirate au, fluff, angst, smut

??? x named reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: violence, fighting, guns and weaponry, blood injuries, trauma, smut, sa, pa, abuse specific to this chapter: blood, injuries

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Anxiety rushes over me as I open the door to the stable, for the second time today. The difference is that now I have company along with me, more specifically six of them, and one of them is wounded badly. I suggested that we bring him here since this is the most isolated place on our property, as the boys didn't want my father to find out about what happened and they didn't want to bother the Captain either.

San sweeps everything off the table in the middle of the room with just one motion, it is loud as everything falls to the ground. The two tallest one, Yunho and Mingi places Jongho on it immediately. He's applying pressure to the wound, just like I said to him moments before panic took over me, it's great he listened to me, so maybe he didn't lose that much blood.

"Can someone tell me what the hell happened?" Seonghwa bursts into the wide space with Wooyoung on his side. He ran back to the house ahead of us, Yunho asked him to inform the Quartermaster about the situation. It's really scary how angry the man looks.

Yunho is the one who gives the full report with a shaky voice. "We- we wanted to get the things we needed, just like you asked. We just ran into a little complication on the way, and someone attacked us, we didn't want to draw the attention to ourselves, so we didn't attack back. But Jongho got shot." And with the last sentence, he looks at the boy in pain.

"Did anyone else got hurt?" I don't know exactly who the question is directed at, but he looks straight at me as if he expects an answer from me. I'm just trying to hide in the corner, arms crossed in front of me. I don't know what to do in this kind of situation, they are just strangers, I shouldn't worry about them. I shake my head, to let him know everyone else is completely okay, at least physically.

"What are we supposed to do right now? We don't have a healer with us." Wooyoung steps closer to the table, that smiley boy from earlier now looks terrified. I don't know how severe the wound could be from this far away, but I can see that he is sweating. He must have a fever.

"I may be able to help," I say, but I don't move from my place. Maybe I should have kept quiet, but I feel bad about what happened earlier with Jongho, that I took everything on him.

"What do you mean? Are you a healer by any chance?" The black-haired navigator, Yunho asks.

"Not exactly, I mean I only healed animals before and only watched my mother work all the time when I was younger, she was the best at her job and she always taught me the little practices." I sigh. "I don't know if I could actually help, but I can try." I look around at me, I see a couple of surprised and a couple of thinking faces. I mean who am I kidding, why would they trust a complete stranger who has no experience?

"I'm gonna be honest, I don't know why, but I trust you. It's enough if you try at least, just please help him. Until then I'll try to talk with the captain. If you need anything, the others are at your service." Honestly, I didn't expect that. I instantly rushed to Jongho's side, and put my hand on his forehead. Just as I thought, he has a high fever.

"I need a wet cloth, a lance or even a sharp knife will do, and a lot of alcohol." When I look up Seonghwa is already out of the room, but no one is doing anything, they just look confused. "NOW!" I shout. And finally, everyone starts moving.

I put my hands around the wound and carefully press it, I'm trying to feel how deep the bullet is in. There is no exit hole, so it must be still inside. If I don't take it out as soon as possible, it can get infected, and from there I may not be able to do anything. So as soon as the others got back with the things I asked for, I start working right away.

Even I was surprised by how easily I took the bullet out of the wound and sewed it up, although I was never good at that, so it isn't perfect, but it will do for now. Jongho passed out in the middle of it, he held up better than I thought. The fever hasn't gone down yet, but for now, that should be the least of his problem. I told San to always keep a cold cloth on his forehead and nape. He hasn't left his side ever since, and he looks like he's not even gonna attempt to soon.

Seonghwa hasn't returned yet. I don't dare to go out, even though I should wash all this blood off of myself, but I can't enter the house like this, so I just wait. I sit down on a hay bale, and I bury my face into my palms, it is only now that I have realized what I did. Sudden weariness runs through me.

I can feel someone sitting down next to me, but I don't look up, for now, I can't even move an inch.

"Thank you." I hear a familiar voice. Only these two words fill me up with warmth, I haven't heard it in a long time. "I didn't know you were this cool." I chuckle and look up at the honey-skinned boy next to me. He has that mischievous smile on his face once again just like earlier at the market.

"I wouldn't use those exact words." I returned his smile without even noticing it. He has the kind of smile that brightens everyone around him. "I'm glad I could help." I hug myself, I feel a little bad in these clothes, with someone else's blood on it.

"Oh, here take this." And Wooyoung drapes his jacket over my shoulders. "Cover up with it."

I don't have time to thank him when the door opens again. Seonghwa steps in, but now with Yunho on his side, both of them have a not-so-pleasant expression on.

Yeosang, the quietest one, who I haven't heard talking yet asks "Have you spoken with captain?" He has a very deep voice, just as deep as the ocean, it calms people down. He sits on a chair across from me, on the other side of the room.

"I have." He sighs. "It looks like we have to leave earlier than expected. We will leave tomorrow morning. Until then the captain tries to arrange everything quickly."

"But we can't leave him here for the night, a servant can find him. They will come out here soon to feed the horses." I tell them worriedly. I only can imagine how angry my father will get if he finds out about this.

"Do you know any other places where we can take him?" Seonghwa asks, he looks at me like I'm the only one who can help them. I don't like this feeling when people rely on me.

I don't know if I should mention it since it's my secret hideout and the only place no one else knows about. "There's a house across the lake, it stands empty. Nobody goes there." Only me, but I don't say this out loud. I hope I made the right decision.

I lead the way there, we have to go through the forest to get to the old house. I don't how they will get Jongho here, because the path is not that stable, and I wouldn't be happy if the stitches got ripped open.

Only Seonghwa, Yunho, and Wooyoung came with me, the other three stayed there with Jongho, looking after him. They haven't brought him here yet, first, they are just scouting the area.

When we get there I open the slightly rotten wooden door for them. It makes all sorts of squeaky noises, it's not very pleasant. We enter, everything is covered in dust and dirt. The big empty room is only lit by the two small dirty windows across the space, it's still not much, as the trees cover all the light that is left from the setting sun.

Only now do I notice how fast time has passed and I start to worry. "Will this be alright?" I ask while I walk around the familiar room.

"Yes, it will be perfect. You sure no one comes here?" Seonghwa runs his finger along the windowsill, and the dirt of many years stays on his long fingers and removes it with only one blow.

"I'm sure." I hug myself once again. Honestly, I don't know how much longer I can stay on my feet.

"Okay. Wooyoung would you be so kind and take the lady back to her room, but make sure no one sees her like this." They nod to each other as if they had discussed something without saying it out loud.

The way back to the house was quiet, I didn't mind it though, I don't know how much I would have been able to concentrate. We stopped in front of the back door, which leads to the kitchen. Thank god there's no one there at the moment, it's not very common. Before we go inside Wooyoung tells me to stay as silent as possible, and so do I. Little does he know I do these kinds of things every day, I know exactly what I'm doing.

I look out to the corridor from the kitchen, I'm barely sticking out my head. I can see only one servant there, and she too has just turned into one of the rooms. "Let's go" I'm signaling to the boy behind me.

And the moment we both step out of the space, the servant also leaves the room she just went into, back to the corridor. Without any hesitation, Wooyoung grabs my hand and pulls me into the room opposite the kitchen, which is the dining room. He tries to pull me closer to him so that no one notices me, but I pull my hand away from his and push myself further away. I know he only wants to help, but his touch leaves some bad feelings on my skin, I can't help it. "I'm sorry." I say, realizing how he looks at me.

He shakes his head as if nothing happened. And now he is the one sticking his head out. "Come, it's clear now. We just have to run up the stairs." He looks back at me.

I lead the way from the top of the stairs to the door of my room. We stop in front of it, looking around once more to make sure no one has seen us. I tighten the jacket around me, I already forgot Wooyoung gave it to me earlier. "Here, your jacket." I'm starting to take it off of me, so I can give it back.

"No, leave it. Just return it the next time we meet." He winks at me, and at that moment he turns around and leaves me there alone.

As I enter my room I finally can calm down a little. I think about everything that happened today, and I can't believe that it actually happened. I just can't wait to have a warm bath. Something pulls out of my thoughts, I got scared as someone steps out of my bathroom. "What the hell happened to you?" I turn pale, maybe it was all for nothing?

note: things got a little out of hand in this one. how did you like it? MC is starting to get to know the boys, and maybe they are growing a little bit closer. How do you think things will turn out now that the boys have to leave?

If you want to be part of any of my taglists, there's a form in my main masterlist (my pinned post) you should fill out, so it's easier for me, but you still can massage me about it too. <3

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