#but specifically death that’s not ?? fresh

[alexanderlightweight]

Bro, Sir, my dude, your Pray to the Hunters verse has completely consumed my brain. Thoughts, gone, I live here now. Please sir may I have some more? Thank you so much for all of your hard work!!!

okay i've had a bunch of asks for pray to the hunters verse but this is my oldest and I saved it in drafts with a reminders because when I finally was able to write it again, I wanted to make sure I could share it with you because even though it was a while ago, I've thought of this prompt on and off and it's always made me smile. anyways it's been a long time but I hope you enjoy it <3

lumine

pray to the hunters

-

Condensation drips like slow tears down the crystal of Magnus’ glass as he stares at the werewolf kneeling before him.

“I’ve warned you before, if you wish to keep your pack within the bounds of my territory, then you must also follow the rules.  My rules. Was this somehow unclear?” Magnus’ voice is gentle, almost kind and every word, every question makes the pathetic creature in front of him flinch.

Just as he is about to continue, the wolf’s ragged breath comes out not only in a whimper but in a gust of frost that hangs in the air  and Magnus inhales. The air of his club suddenly sharp and clean like a fresh layer of mountain snow... and the tang of blood.

The droplets etching their path down his drink freeze, stuck to the side like tiny glistening diamonds. 

“Alexander—” Magnus murmurs to himself, beyond pleased despite the simmering impatience that still lingers in his veins. In his core, the death magic he’s carefully concealed within the cafe of cold necromantic energy Alexander shared with him, roils as if in hungry excitement.  

Alexander melts from the shadows as if he was born from their embrace, not even bothering to spare the wolf a glance, ignoring everything else to look only at Magnus. 

As he should.

It’s as enthralling as it is maddening, wishing to be both the shadows embracing Alexander and the splatter of red flecks on his jaw and neck.

“Are you busy?” Alexander’s voice is quiet and calm despite the intensity with which he looks at Magnus. There's mocking laughter in the court around them, for who could see this scene and not realize Magnus is busy. 

For a moment Magnus lets the question linger amid derision, taking a long, slow sip of his drink and savoring how the alcohol slides thickly down his throat, so cold it burns. 

How quickly his court latches onto any weakness shown, yet they’re misunderstanding the question.

Alexander isn’t inquiring if Magnus is busy, he’s asking if Magnus is too busy for him.  

Alexander wants to know if whatever Magnus is doing is more important than Magnus’ interest in him.

Specifically. 

Magnus’ laughter is a deep chuckle that only encourages the mockery around them until, with two fingers raised, he silences them and stands.

“Nothing is more intriguing to me than you, Alexander.” 

Magnus holds out his hand and Alexander takes it, his flesh and muscle covered fingers just as cold as the bone-knuckled grasp of his ancestors.   It feels like the phantom cage of skeletal fingers still lingering on his heart and Magnus brings Alexander’s hand to his mouth in a long, claiming kiss.

Around them PanDEMONium has gone silent with shock and Magnus ignores them with a breathy laugh of delight. Only three days and yet it feels like three centuries since Alexander’s deathly cold magic soothed the raging fires of Magnus’ desire.

Three days since Alexander’s offered boon gifted Magnus the ability to harvest more power than he thought possible without consequences. 

Well, there is a consequence, but Magnus finds Alexander — and the pull he holds over Magnus — such a delightful one.

“Were you hunting, darling?” Magnus wonders just how far he’ll be allowed to press, in public and without a ritual or a boon tying them together.  

Alexander smiles at him, hazel eyes soft and encompassing like a beautiful everglade with thousands of hidden dangers.

“Was I?”

Magnus takes that as permission, using his grip on Alexander to pull him closer — thrilled at how easily his shadowhunter lets himself be led — and leans forward to possessively lick at the specks of blood on Alexander’s jaw.

It carries the vibrancy of life, not death and Magnus tsks in disappointment, a shame then that Alexander hadn’t come to him fully sated by death.  It means he’ll probably leave, when whatever business he’s come here to make with Magnus is done. It also makes Magnus even more curious, about why he’s come when he’s clearly not finished with his hunt.

“Pity.” Magnus’ voice is quiet, only for the two of them and Alexander’s eyes crinkle in amusement.

“I’ve heard that most of the business you conduct remains at your club.”

“Aren’t you well informed.” Magnus hums thoughtfully and uses his thumb to smear the blood and saliva on Alexander’s face into a claiming streak of color. “Do you want us to talk here?”

Alexander smiles again, disarmingly pretty, if it weren’t for his bone-white teeth and how his lips and tongue are almost the same color as the blood of prey on his skin.

“If you’re willing to share, then why would I object.”

Magnus is not willing to share.

Magnus would rather burn down his entire club and everyone in it than to share a moment of Alexander's precious, remarkable power and existence with a single other being.  

“Teasing me is a dangerous game, Alexander.” Magnus creates a portal with a dark smirk and winks at his shadowhunter, “but I think you know that.”

—

notes:

alec is being a little shit btw. he purposefully didn't go finish his kill because he wants to tempt Magnus into joining him and this is his grand plan and idea of flirting because yes, his idea of 'do you like me y/n' is 'hey why don't we go see if the high warlock of Brooklyn wants to go eat more hearts with me?' totally normal even for Shadowhunters, right?

If it wasn’t clear, magnus’ drink temperatur and the temperature everywhere is affected by alec’s powers which are basically based on how steeped he is in necromantic ancestral magic at the time. Everything is affected by him and Alec is both making a statement and not. He’s kind of forgotten its a side affect at this point 

And btw magnus totally finds alec pretty, its just the disarming part of the pretty doesn’t work with how dangerous alec actually is the aura he exudes and let me tell you, something really pretty that screams danger is much scarier than something not as nice to look at. Magnus is charmed tho, just not disarmed 

Magnus is trying to just live life... while enjoying necromantic magic and a bunch of murder but that's not the point. He really did not need a bunch of werewolves attacking a NY police officer werewolf.  He just did not okay. Like that was not well thought out at all and magnus is so fucking done. especially because they need those spies and not many are willing to do it and no one is going to force them. Magnus is ACAB and wants to be involved with mundane law enforcement as little as possible okay, unless its to fuck with them and he can do that without being around them personally.

Uhm clary and simon did not get kidnapped. Well they did, they just didn’t stay kidnapped long enough to get into big trouble but luke and the pack still beefed and magnus caught wind of it because alaric has at least a quarter of a braincell and was like ‘uh the highwarlock will not be happy that a downworld police officer is about to have a very unnatural death that will be super investigated since cops are like that about their own when they're already suspicious about all the mundane deaths'. 

The werewolf magnus is currently about to eviscerate doesn’t have a name because magnus can’t be bothered to remember his name when he’s this irritated and so he’ll probably call him about a dozen names that aren’t his own before killing him (i’m going to be real, this is a death magic story. It doesn’t matter what mood magnus is in when he gets back, the werewolf is going to die. Even if its just because magnus wants another taste of death to share with alec the next time they meet

Alec carving bone flowers for Magnus because 'one of his ancestors shared the impression of getting flowers and liking them but since Magnus is interested in necromancy, ofc she'll give her favorite descendant permission to carve her bones into a bouquet because that will be 'more personal'.

alec was the favorite of a bunch of fanatic dead warriors (more obsessed with eradicating demons than revering Raziel), he's more fucked up than normal but also more like, has better self-worth than canon so that says something about canon I feel. also when a bunch of your ancestors who didn't tarnish the family name but made the family name don't care about who are interested in as long as they're powerful? self-repression who?

ngl this is one of my most loved but difficult to write verses and I hope I got into the vibe right because it has to fit right or i'm just trying to finish a puzzle with the wrong pieces

[lost-in-the-land-of-stories]

Elisabeth de Musical 2025 Review (DeLaMar, 22-03-25 Previews)

Hello friends, been a while since I did serious Elisabeth posting, but GUESS WHO WENT TO SEE THE NEW DUTCH SHOW DURING PREVIEWS >:3

I figured it might be nice to have a bit of a report/review for if you’re considering going to see this version of the show, especially if you have to come from abroad to do so. I will do a spoiler-free section first, and then hide my spoiler thoughts under the cut (just a heads-up, I wrote 2000 words of just rambling thoughts immediately after coming home last weekend so this post is LongTM).

Spoiler Free Review

I was really excited to watch a fresh take on Elisabeth from within the area that just takes over the German-language staging, and I was not disappointed. This take on Elisabeth makes some big swings and changes and while there are a few I have complicated thoughts on, overall I really liked it.

The cast is incredibly talented, and the creative direction was fresh and interesting and thoughtful. The choices made feel deliberate and interesting, the new sets are both beautiful and combine having to be moved because the show is touring with not looking lazy/confined by the fact they’re for a tour (in case you’re wondering, yes that’s shade on the non-existent sets and boring screens they used in the previous German-language tour and the endless concerts). It still is a little pared-down, don’t expect 04-05 Vienna opulence, but the choices made feel more like they were made for creative reasons than simply so the show is moveable. There are screens, yes, but they are used in interesting fashion, and the sets that are used call back to older stagings in interesting ways as well as bringing a fresh new approach. I would love a bit more opulence, but I won’t deny that watching the Toho and Takarazuka productions a lot specifically primes you to look for that.

The costumes I am a bit more in the middle about; there are fewer and they are more simple at times than I would like, but there are also a number of really beautiful costumes and I once again do understand why they did what they did; it’s a deliberate choice, and I respect that. The one thing I’ll say here and not in spoilers because I have the picture up anyway; I fucking LOVE that they gave de Dood back his red coat. Original Dutch Death Stanley Burleson had a red coat and devilish motif, and I utterly love that they brought that back for Milan. It feels a little bit uniquely Dutch, I don’t recall any other recurring productions that use it a lot, and that makes me immensely fond of it.

The cast is absolutely incredible and I have essentially nothing but good things to say. Danique Dusée is amazing as Young Sisi, she has a really incredible way of bringing both a real boisterous youthful energy while also pulling of incredible vulnerability, without coming across as helpless. It was impressive to see, and I really enjoyed her Sisi. I also really like her singing, though I miss the very high soprano type Sisi vocals, her voice is beautiful and I enjoyed it immensely. I also really loved getting to see Pia Douwes actually performing Elisabeth, instead of just singing. I’ve seen her in concert a bunch of times now but this hit so different. While you can tell that she is getting on in years and her voice is perhaps not quite what it once was, I super just do not care. Her acting is truly amazing and you can just feel how much she’s lived and embodied this part. I really appreciated that they used a switch-cast, it created a very interesting change in dynamic with Death, and it was overall very well done (minor spoiler, I suppose, but it’s relevant to know that this isn’t like the concert versions and the switch takes place at the end of act 1, during the reprise of Ich Gehör nur Mir).

I loved Milan van Waardenburg as de Dood, he’s super bitchy and sassy and FUN, and as I already said the red coat just, chef’s kiss. His voice is beautiful, he hits both beautiful low notes and insanely high ones, and his chemistry with both Pia and Danique was amazing.

As for the rest of the cast, I really liked William Spaaij as Lucheni, he’s very fun but also gets very dark at times. My one complaint is that his Italian pronunciation isn’t that great, and it would have been nice to see an actual Italian as Lucheni for ONCE, but that’s not his fault. Guido Gottenbos’ Franz-Joseph is incredibly sympathetic (if terribly foolish) and his voice is really warm and beautiful. I don’t usually have a lot of sympathy for Franz, but he really sold it. And he somehow worked with both young and older Sisi, which I’ve certainly seem happen differently. AND ANN VAN DEN BROECK AS SOPHIE!!!!! Holy hells she was perfect and I adore her and it’s no surprise that my favourite European Sisi would also be my favourite European Sophie, I suppose. She sells the humanity of Sophie so well, and while she is terribly cruel you can see that she doesn’t mean badly. Chef’s kiss. No notes. Please, I want to see her play Old Sisi someday as well. Ronald Jorritsma was a very endearing Rudolf, even though his role was significantly cut down (not in time on stage, but in relevance, further elaboration in the spoiler section). The ensemble was also very good, with some incredibly beautiful and powerful voices and a lot of really cool energy. Noah Bellaart, the Young Rudolf I saw, was also very talented!

Overall, I can just say that this was a really really solid new addition. The cast was excellent, and the sets and costumes (though I missed some small aspects there) were really good. I have some critical points, but I will elaborate those below, because they’re all super spoilery and honestly? I would recommend going into this almost blind. It was really fun to discover the new things they did and the changes they made in the theatre in my seat. So if you’re going to see it? Don’t read this next part, come back once you have. If you just want to live vicariously through my endless rambling; read on:

Spoiler Review

Right. So. SPOILERS TIME. This is going to be not chronological and kind of thematic, so uh, strap in.

Let me start with the big things; this show takes a more abstract approach to some things than the older staging does, filled with different and new metaphors that are really fascinating to me. It is very Dutch in that some things feel a little more toned down, but in ways that I found to be very very interesting. The first big thing is that Lucheni is not questioned by a judge, he is questioned by the Ensemble. They each ask him questions in turn as Sisi is already on stage, lying prone at the centre of a turning section of the stage. As the prologue winds down she is essentially resurrected in front of our eyes and the black mourning clothes are torn off her by the ensemble, before she is tumbled back into her own story. For the entire rest of the show, the Ensemble (when not in specific courtly roles) show up in painters outfits and carrying easels, and paint whatever scene is taking place in front of them. They are, because of this, almost constantly on stage. This fits in really well with the projections/screens they do use, because they are nearly all paintings or drawings of Sisi or the other major characters. Similarly, Sisi, Death and Lucheni also barely ever leave the stage. Like I said, we start with Danique already right there, but she barely ever leaves at all. Because of this painter theme, there is also a large blue ‘person’ puppet that Franz is posing with at some point which was hilarious, especially because Sisi rearranges it comfortably onto a chair later.

This does also lead to one of the things I like less, that is that she has way fewer costumes than is ‘usual’ and runs around in her white ‘nightgown’ for a very large part of Act 1. While I understand the choice (both as a practical one and a symbolic one, it makes her stand out against all the historical costumes around her), I do miss some of her other costumes and I did think it odd she was going to Hungary in her nightgown. It does contrast beautifully with Pia’s black nightgown in Act 2, though.

So, the biggest interesting change for me is probably Elisabeth smokes now. I know she historically did so anyway, but it’s never been in the musical before. If you had told me before I went to see, I would have been very sceptical about it, because it feels like that’s just the thing in all the movies about her right now and I would have worried it was gonna be tacky. It is very much not. Oh, about that, Death also smokes. He has one of those old fashioned stick things that you stick a cigarette into and it is. So much. It really suits him and the smoke creates an excellent effect. And the way they integrated it was just really really cool. So basically he offers her a smoke, a bunch of times, and whether or not she takes it is very intimately related to the state of her mental health. There is the moment after she gives Franz the letter, when he shows up and they sit down on a ledge together and Sisi offers Death a smoke, and something about that image crawled right into my brain and gave me the brainworms. It’s like he’s a personification of all of her bad habits, her bad thoughts; almost less like Death and more a manifestation of self-destruction. It’s really cool and the energy it brings is somehow both way more toned down than some of the big choreographies they’ve had in the past, but also incredibly raw and emotional in a way that gets what they mean across just so, so well.

Danique, as stated, is incredibly capable of showing both Sisi’s strength and her vulnerability. She is very powerful during Ich Gehör nur Mir, and then after baby Sophie’s death there is a sadness and misery to her that I don’t think I’ve seen in that moment in quite that way before. The kind of drag out the moment a tad longer, in more silence than it is in a lot of productions, which means there is a moment where Franz walks in to comfort her and she basically cowers away from him against Sophie’s coffin, raising both her arms and hiding, and it utterly destroyed me.

Pia’s acting is just utterly incredible. Because they get to switch halfway, the power differential between Death and Sisi changes, and that is really something I don’t think I’ve ever experienced quite this starkly. She somehow speaks to Death both as an old friend and an annoying ex, with deep familiarity born of history together. She’s so regal and powerful and there’s something so very sad about her, while also tapping into some of the callousness and dejection really well. She really leaned into the emotion. One of the things I’m not super fond of in Act 2 is that the smoking escalates to her injecting herself with coke, which, again does make sense historically but it was a bit much and I’m not sure that we needed it, and also she does it at the end of Wenn Ich Tanzen Will which is supposed to be her moment of triumph and that felt like it really undercut that.

I fucking loved Nichts, Nichts, but then I always do, because I am just like that. The entire scene in the madhouse was really heartbreaking, and her dress was incredible. She gets a purple dress with black gulls along the skirt, which just was absolutely gorgeous.

Like I said above, Milan as Death was something else. I felt like he really fit in well with the Dutch Death’s tradition; he’s cold and calculating and mean. I didn’t really get a romantic vibe from him with Sisi at all, even though he states lyrically that he loves her. It feels more like wanting to possess her, and honestly he really did feel like more of a manifestation of the depression and the bad habits than anything else. Like that mean voice in your head, the devil on your shoulder. I adore it. He was really fun and bitchy and super fun with Lucheni as well. Also, if smoking is bad for you why does it look so cool (on stage, in real life I actually do think it's disgusting). I also found the choices with his choreography very interesting. He moves around less than a lot of previous Death’s, but in standing imperiously in corners and watching he is somehow incredibly menacing. It was really cool.

As is regular now, Schwarze Prinz is replaced by Kein Kommen Ohne Gehen, and for the first time in ever that didn’t make me want to throw things. Danique and Milan sold it pretty well, even though I do still prefer the other version.

The change from having a judge to having the ensemble question Lucheni also changed his entire relationship with them, which was very interesting. Lucheni seems very ambivalent to Sisi, and the change from him claiming she wanted to die at the beginning of the piece to him admitting that she just Was There at the end is somehow much more prominent like this. William plays him very dark, at times also kind of miserable himself, and while he and Death interact I feel like a little bit less, Lucheni is ALWAYS paying attention to him.

One of the other major changes is Schatten. This one is going to be controversial, I already know that. During the song, both Sisi and Lucheni are on stage in the background. Sisi has just done drugs, and Lucheni is cutting his own chest with a piece of a broken mirror he hurled at Sisi earlier. This, as it is as you can guess, INTENSE, is kind of really distracting from Rudolf. This is what I meant when I said Rudolf’s role is smaller; he’s very much less the focus of the story. Death really doesn’t seem to give a single fuck about him, he’s really just using him for his own gain, and because his big duet with Death is very busy now I found myself unable to focus quite so well on him. He’s still really good, especially in Spiegel, but he’s just drawing a lot less focus. The contrast to this is that Rudolf does just stay on stage for a very long time, in the background of other scenes, before his death. He is lying on the floor on stage when Sisi returns at the beginning of Spiegel. There also isn’t a kiss between him and Death, instead he aims in his mouth as Death just watches on impassively, uncaring as the ensemble lifts and carries him offstage and one of them returns with a candle. Similarly, when Sisi begs him to take her too, he doesn’t even consider it; he just straight up tells her ‘no’ with a cold smile on his face, which is quite a lot less conflicted and angry than he often is in that scene. Basically the entire energy is different, and while I’ve found that I do in fact like it, if Rudolf is your boy then I imagine this entire thing will be disappointing. Usually I’m more up in arms if Death and Rudolf don’t even kiss, but somehow it makes a lot of sense for this version where the ‘romantic’ appeal of Death to the characters seems a lot more absent anyway.  

Hass is as disconcerting as always, which was to be expected, but I think they’ve gotten better at integrating it with the story. I have some complicated feelings about Rudolf being the character trying to warn others of n*zis, effectively casting him in a very heroic light, what with the rest of his messy history, but at the same time I think it was important in the current climate to extra emphasise that n*zi’s are BAD (because apparently people don’t just always know that anymore), and having one of the major characters specifically point that out makes the scene read less ambiguously as I know some people have taken it in the past. I don’t like the scene, but I can still acknowledge that it’s important to have in the show.

Am Deck was really well done. Lucheni shows up with fake skulls and starts talking to and about them, and I (because archaeologists are a little weird) found this both incredible funny and a really good addition. The face-off between Death and Franz is really well done, and I really enjoyed it.

The ending felt ominous, not happy, to me, which I really really like. It felt very reminiscent of the 1999 production, which I really enjoy.

Overall the script was largely based on 1999, but I could tell that they have updated it in a variety of ways and I also recognised some of the 2009 Antwerp texts. There are some lyrics that I wish they’d changed but haven’t (we still have to deal with ‘ik houd niet van huichelarij’ which I just think is a silly line), but overall I thought this was a very good translation that’s been updated to the times very well. They also changed ‘muisje’ (mouse) to ‘kikker’ (frog), when Rudolf tells Death what he killed that day, which SURE HELPS WITH NOT HAVING ME MISHEAR IT AS ‘meisje’ (girl). So Thank You to whomever changed that. They also changed something in the lyrics to Letzte Tanz which I really enjoyed. They updated it overall but they did something very fun where the second line went from:

“de laatste dans, de laatste dans, dans ik alleen met jou”

To

“de laatste dans, de laatste, dans ik alleen met jou”

Which is really fun wordplay if you ask me and Milan pulled it off really well.

Overall, I just have to give this show an absolutely 10/10. Sure there are some choices that I may have made differently, but I am just super excited that they made new choices at all. Absolutely tipping my hat to the entire creative team, the people updating the lyrics, the set design and the cast itself. Thank you for the wonderful experience. I am 100% gonna go see this again.

Oh, and if you want me to ramble on more just ask me questions. I fully must have forgotten some of it already.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

dreaming abt sophomore year class swap bard!riz

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

no one FREAKING understands jo march and friedrich bhaer the way i do

[daydreamerdrew]

Captain America (1968) #110 and Captain America: Reborn (2009) #4

[iniziare]

Inquisitor: The Evanuris were elven mages? How did they come to be remembered as gods? Solas: Slowly. It started with a war. War breeds fear. Fear breeds a desire for simplicity. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Chains of command. After the war ended, generals became respected elders, then kings, and finally gods. The Evanuris. Inquisitor: You said that the elven gods went too far. What did they do that made you move against them? Solas: They killed Mythal. (Chuckles.) A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment. Inquisitor: I thought Mythal was one of the Evanuris? Solas: She was the best of them. She cared for her people. She protected them. She was a voice of reason. And in their lust for power, they killed her.

You know, sometimes I wonder about him in regards to Mythal. Not only over how intensely he struck down those who slayed her (and the severe repercussions thereof, even if he didn't realize they'd occur as they did), but the sheer conviction he holds in regards to the future. He banished the Evanuris, and in doing so, single-handedly brought devastation to his people, and Mythal's, leaving their descendants scarred and 'weak', shadows of their former selves. But it's the 'and Mythal's' that gets me. He 'avenged' her and in turn, became the 'undoing' of the elven civilization she'd loved and protected above all?

Inquisitor: That's the past. What about the future? Solas: (...) My people fell for what I did to strike the Evanuris down, but still some hope remains for restoration. I will save the Elven people, even if it means this world must die.

[sjweminem]

if hoffman is soo soooo bad why did god make him the most babiest littlest stray kitty cat kitten who simply needs to be bottle-nursed and get zoomies from catnip toys in the fucking world

[nexility-sims]

🌷

[tortoisesshells]

Dark Shadows: 58, 112, 67, 126 & Moby-Dick Ch. 7 "The Chapel"

[caterjunes]

we're gonna put our rats up for adoption at the animal rescue. things are. bad. we can't keep their cage clean. grayson gets exhausted taking them out to play and i rarely join bc i just feel empty or disgusted or i start sobbing or wind up in pain or exhausted myself. so they don't get the amount of human interaction they deserve/need.

i feel awful about it. i feel sick. i don't know the last time i've felt like such an abject failure. not just as a person responsible for small lives but as a partner. grayson gets such joy from these boys, and they are so sweet to us too. i just. i can't even take care of myself. it isn't fair. it's not fair.

[agnesmontague]

#we need more education in critical thinking

without meaning to single out this tag poster (i don't think you're wrong, necessarily!), i did want to highlight a common frustration that i've seen stated a lot around here but that i believe bears repeating: it's not so much that i think people are unable to think critically or lack critical thinking skills (and the term itself has deteriorated into a sort of shorthand for "capability to reach the same conclusions as me"), because a lot of the time these people ARE thinking critically when they look at a piece of media and recognize what they believe to be signs of the author's biases or shortcomings. the problem is what they then decide to do about it

personally i'm not fully of the opinion that the internet itself has meaningfully changed our behavior as a species, because the concept of angry letters to the author (and worse) has been around for as long as there have been authors and letters to send them, but it can't be denied that the wombo combo of easier access to authors' mailboxes via social media and the constant push to self-market on the part of the creators has made for an unprecedented era of interactions and a great deal of it--dare i say most of it!--has Not been Good; and even apart from all value judgment this has certainly shifted the paradigm of The Audience as a concept. so, like, i would say the problem runs more deeply than people simply not having the requisite critical thinking skills but rather concerns more what an audience member decides to do with their agency, and that is definitely something that could be addressed in classes/opportunities to teach critical thinking

it's not that left-leaning Online folk have suddenly or even gradually regressed to an era of victorian sensibilities where they fully believe that bad things in fiction = bad things irl, i've rarely seen even the most uncultured of take-havers argue for monkey see monkey do (except that one blogger who thought anyone who enjoys horror is a damaged freak—special shoutout to you forever!); it's more that people have gotten hubristically confident in their ability to "clock" bad faith or dress a portrait of the author/creator/artist beneath their work when such assumptions can be false or even dangerous. yes, sometimes a person's work will put their biases and prejudice on display. sometimes people will be chronically unable to write women, to make characters of color sound human, etc, but somehow that (still fairly surface) level of engaging with a work has become the excuse we all use to tear down the veil between author and audience and drag people through extremely damaging interrogations of intent

even worse, everyone professing critical ability online has been able to find at least a niche clutch of others who got "bad vibes" from something and end up cruising through this vibes-based economy fueled by their echo chamber of angry fault-finders, resulting in critique that has no real literary or sociological value but sounds just well-dressed enough in critical language that it becomes someone else's metric for evaluation and even creation, which is how we get swathes of grown adults rallying against benign children's media or 200 "queer fiction" podcasts that all sound like they got mashed through a therapist's office to avoid precisely this type of senseless audience violence

[somnoir]

Damian's future husband

Got inspired by this specific line in a Tumblr thread and my brain went to work

Phantom was a strange hero—a vigilante that often worked with Justice League Dark. Constantine was always so antsy around the man, while Phantom himself often muttered about taxes and blasted fragments whenever said trech coat man was in the vicinity.

The Bats were, of course, initially apprehensive of the death defying being that could rip a man skeleton out of their body, manipulate space itself to rip open portals to different dimensions, and vanish better than they did. They were wary, mildly hostile after realising that Phantom had now issue killing.

But then time passed and Phantom was proven to not be a serial killer but only used killing as a last resort. Though Batman wasn't too pleased, he was—begrudgingly—tolerant of that. Because, yes, Phantom was a nice guy, a very likeable person in general. He made sure that the environmental damage during battles were kept to a minimum, he chose civilians over the enemy whenever it came to hostage situations, he was tactile and kind, and he cared so much for the innocent that he was willing to lose his innocence to keep theirs.

Of course Batman was fond of the young man, especially when he found out that Jason of all people had some sort of crush on him. A very big and almost pathetic one that he and Alfred would watch while sipping tea.

Seriously, Jason was his son! Has he not learned anything from his Brucie persona? The poor thing was like a Victorian maiden and would be scandalised at the mere thought of showing an ankle.

It was embarrassing how he'd practically start blue screening the moment Phantom was in the vicinity. As a father, Bruce was gracious enough not to bully his poor son whenever it came to Phantom. His siblings, on the other hand, held no such qualms and mercilessly dug into Jason.

In all honesty, he pitied Jason after hearing that Phantom assumed that Jason just didn't like him.

He really had to talk to him.

"You fucking hypocrite."

And that was a failure because Bruce forgot that he was just as constipated as his son.

"I'm not taking advice from the man who couldn't even try to be softer in his secret crush!"

With that, Jason slammed the door and left.

Okay... Plan B?

But what the hell was plan B?

Right.

Dick Grayson.

Bruce: About your brother...

Bird child #1: OH MY GOD

Bird child #1: THANK FUCK YOU FINALLY MENTIONED IT

Bruce: it's become an issue

Bruce: Alfred has commented that it's pathetic now.

Bird child #1: Wait wait

Bird child #1: I'll add you to the group chat!

And this Bruce Wayne found himself in a GC named 'Phantom of the Watchtower'. Along with all the complaints expressed by both family and friends when it came to Jason's bullshit.

Ah well... At least he wasn't alone in the suffering.

(Jason did not need to know that there was a video of him grappling through Gotham, Phantom passing by and waving at him, and Jason proceeding to hit a wall mid flight.)

Dick knows that his little wing has had trouble in relationships for a long time. His resurrection changed him, changed how he perceived his relationships. Dick didn't have the heart to be mad about it.

Phantom's arrival was a breath of fresh air for them.

But he suspects that Jason's attraction began with the fact that Phantom had died young as well. Fourteen from what was said. He had died much younger than Jason and had came back a hero, willing to protect the innocent and do what was best for those around him. Sometimes Dick suspects that Jason not only wanted to be with Phantom, but also to be similar to him.

Now he's watching Jason fumble with his words again, immediately going quiet once he realized that nothing coherent was coming out of his mouth. The helmet most likely hid how red his face was.

"Are you alright?" Phantom asked, frowning up at Jason. "You don't feel too good. Is the corrupted ecto acting up again? Oh, I knew I should have sped up the process of removing it but then it'd be very painful if I did it at once. And Frostbite recommended that we went slowly so we could monitor the side effect... And, and—"

"I'm okay." Red Hood immediately assured, his hand practically flying to Phantom's cheek then he shoved it down before he could even touch Phantom. "It's been a long day."

"Is the Joker out again?" Phantom's frown deepened.

Another thing Dick has learned about the dead and the undead! The fact that their murderer was still active unsettled then greatly and affected their entire mentality and behaviour.

"No. No. He hasn't tried escaping."

Phantom hummed, "I see. So what's bothering you."

"It's nothing." Jason grunted, sounding a little too much like Bruce for Dick's liking.

Okay, nope, he wasn't going to let this continue if his baby brother was going to continue making Phantom assumed he didn't like him. Nightwing to the rescue!

"Phantom! Hi!" Nightwing quite literally dropped into the alley, running his fingers through his hair and smoothly directing Jason away from whatever catastrophic misunderstanding he was walking into.

"Hello Nightwing! It's nice to see you again? How's Kori? Oooh! I wanted to invite her to a space date again—" He rambled on and on, eyes practically starry. Wait, nevermind. His eyes really were starry.

(Meanwhile, Jason was cursing his older brother for taking the attention from but also very thankful that Phantom didn't have to witness his stupidity again.)

Tim had noticed that the Joker hasn't attempted to break out in a long... Long time.

It's not a bad thing, no. It was great, in all honesty. But of course, Tim was paranoid, almost batshir crazy (pun intended, in the words of his damn boyfriends). The surveillance feed on Arkham was updated a long time ago, watching it very closely until static overtook the screen.

"Replacement," Tim startled, blinking before he saw Jason peering at him with a questioning look. Practically interrogating him on the spot. "The hell is that?"

"I don't know." Tim clicked his tongue, "This hasn't happened after Babs and I updated those damn cameras. Fuck, give me a second..."

"Did the Joker get out?" Jason practically growled.

"No, no. I'm sure he didn't. He would have been causing trouble by now." Tim reassured, clicking his tongue again before the feed went back to normal. Joker's cell seemed perfectly fine, with the Joker fast asleep on his little cot. "See, just some static. Maybe Phantom passed by."

The mere mention of Phantom has Jason blue screening, instincts kicking in as his older brother shoved his helmet over his head again. Then the idiot gets on his bike and speeds out of the cave.

Coward.

Tim whipped his head around, quickly surveying the area.

The static wasn't random. Phantom always had to be in front of the camera to directly affect the feed. So thank fuck when he made friends with Phantom's teammate—Pharaoh—and figured out how to fix any distorted imagery.

He sees Phantom standing over the Joker's unconscious body, plunging his hand into the maniac's chest and pulled out a glowing green orb. A core, from what he remembered. Holy shit, was the Joker a ghost too?

But he saw how Phantom seemed to put restraints around it, literal chains before shoving it back inside.

Slowly, Phantom turned to the camera, his entire figure still distorted, but he could see that fanged grin that his brother seemed to swoon over.

(The Joker was still alive, very much, but no one could understand how he was stuck in an almost permanent coma. Tim wasn't going to give Jason even more reason to start giggling over Phantom, unless he wanted to ruin the entire Dead on Main operation.)

Damian did not quite understand the insanity that was multiple individuals (including those that were not of their brood) attempting to matchmake Todd with Phantom. He didn't understand what was so great about Phantom, in all honesty.

He was heroic, powerful, and quite intelligent. Many people held similar traits. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a deathly being that attracted Todd in the first place.

"Hello, Robin!" Phantom greeted one day, eyes shimmering like the stars in his cape. "Superboy said you had something to tell me?"

Damian shifted slightly, "Yes. Are you aware of the Lazarus Pits?"

"Ah... Yes, of course. My court and I have been trying to destroy all of them. The Lazarus is corrupted ectoplasm that has been mixed with filth of all kinds." Phantom hummed.

"Filth of all kinds... Disgusting." Damian frowned, nose scrunching up at the memory that he's bathed in those pits before. "But I digress. I would like to assist in the destruction of the pits. Father and the rest of the family has fretted over my grandfather's pits for many years and we have barely grazed the surface on what the Lazarus truly was."

"I see! I was planning on asking Batman to help out on that. But since you've already asked, would you like to come to the Realms? I'm sure you can interrogate some of the ghosts your grandfather has wronged." Phantom grinned, already offering Damian a hand. He was floating, while Damian stood in the roof and stared at the hand.

It reminded him of the kryptonians. But Phantom's hand was cold and he didn't yank Damian the same way Jon often did.

No, Phantom took Damian's hand and then proceeded to hook an arm around Damian's waist, pulling him of the roof and into the air. And then they were flying into a glowing green portal that reminded Damian of the pits.

The moment they were in the infinite realms, Damian felt the overwhelming pressure of the dead. He swallowed the bile that rose from his throat as Phantom set him down on solid ground. The entire place felt eerie and strange, of course it was. This was the afterlife.

"Right, I forgot." Phantom cursed, "You're not as liminal as my family. Give me a second, baby bat." He murmured, his hand glowing green before it's gently pushed into Damian's chest. A sudden wave of warmth overtook his entire body and Damian stared at the ghost.

"I'm giving you a bit of Ecto to reduce any discomfort here in the realms. It'll flush itself out in 24 hours so don't worry about becoming overly liminal." Phantom smiled softly, before he offered his hand to Damian again. "Let's go? I have to stop by my keep to check the records of Al Ghuls victims."

"Of course."

And instead of being carried like a cat, Phantom picked him up bridal style and flew past what seemed to be floating islands and towards a large red and purple castle.

Is this was Todd feels? Damian asked himself, oddly enjoying this experience.

The moment they landed—

"Your majesty!" A floating eyeball yelled, rushing towards them. "You've brought an outsider—"

"Away with you." Phantom snapped, a crown and cape of stars suddenly appearing on him. "This is Robin. Ra's Al Ghul's grandchild."

"The Demon's head..."

"Yes, now shoo." Phantom snapped, before leading Damian away from the eyeball. "I'm sorry for my Observants. They're a conservative bunch."

"You are a king?"

"Mhm... Though I don't like to advertise it. The last king was a tyrant and I defeated him a little while after my death. I never intended to be king, in all honesty. But here I am." He gestured to the crown of fire and ice and the cape of stars. His grin was strained and quite troubled but he didn't mind leading Damian towards a large room filled with bigger files.

"Now, would you like to search yourself or do you want me to have someone else do it?"

Damian grimaced at the sight. "I'd prefer for someone else to suffer."

And that's how Damian found himself touring the realms, with Phantom happily bringing Damian to the arena where a ghost named Skulker awaited them. The man was a hunter, respectful towards Phantom yet troublesome as he challenged him. Phantom looked utterly annoyed, before he turned to Damian with sparkling eyes.

"What about you, Robin?"

And then Damian was fighting everyone and everything in the realms at the behest and amusement of Phantom. The ghost king provided him with different weapons each time an enemy switched.

It's only when they returned to the land of the living that he's informed that any weapon he's used is now his.

And he has a cat with him! The ghost of a small yet ferocious kitten that had his under Phantom's cape whilst Damian and other ghosts fought to glorious battle. Phantom kindly offered her to him, naming her Astra with the star shaped pupils in her eyes.

Damian is quite sure he has fallen in love.

Damian returns to the manor, utterly awestruck and infatuated. Thankfully (unfortunately), Todd is in attendance when Phantom carries him out of the portal, still held in a bridal carry with Damian actively clinging to Phantom like he had hung the stars (maybe he did).

"Sorry if we worried you! Robin wanted to help with our Lazarus problems since it's also your problem too." Phantom quickly explains once he saw Batman's troubled expression. "Don't worry about your gifts. I'll figure out a way to make you a dimensional bag."

Damian stared, "May I visit the realms again? If you would be amendable to it."

"Of course! You're my favorite, so why wouldn't I?"

Hah! Hear that? Take that, Todd!

Phantom vanishes into his portal seconds later, leaving Damian with the most beautiful and intricated sword in his hands. Blinking quietly, he whirled around and pointed the sword at Jason, who instinctively went into a battle stance.

"You may be my brother, Todd, but if you have not married Phantom once I am of age, I shall fight for his hand in marriage himself."

(Jason knows very well that Damian isn't joking and proceeds to practically plan the most novel-esque confession to date. Jane Austen might just be proud.)

Masterpost

[mulloey]

hunted • yunho

it’s all a game, he says. you’re desperate to play.

yunho x fem!reader

words: 4.7k

warnings: extremely dark kinks, heavy consensual non consent (cnc), dubcon at some points though you have a safeword, internet hookups (don’t), unprotected sex (don’t), the word ‘rape’ is used, hard dom!yunho, fear play, glove kink, choking, impact play, knife play, under-negotiated kink, size kink, painful sex, sir kink, you’re referred to within the scene as a victim and a sex slave, explicit threats of bodily harm and death in the context of cnc, mind break possibly, aftercare, crying etc

you’ve been appropriately warned of the content ahead. click out if you are uncomfortable. this is not safe to do irl. hate is blocked.

-

You don’t know where else to turn.

It’s been on your mind for a while— this fantasy. This game. You don’t know why, or how, and you’d never, ever admit it, but it plagues your thoughts, day after day, haunting your dreams night after night without respite. You’re too ashamed to even say it.

You never told any of your previous partners; you’d hint, maybe, suggesting weaker, milder things to nudge them the right direction, but they always shied away, got scared about three miles south of what you actually wanted, and ran screaming. You know it’s wrong. If anything, the fact that they ran away should have been a green flag. But it wasn’t. Not to you.

You make the account around 3am. Your username is nondescript, profile photo grainy and blurred, showing just enough to attract someone who might be able to do this for you. You write the post with trembling hands; the words come easier to you than you’ll ever admit.

I want to be forced. I want to be raped. I want to be punished for resisting. I imagine a stranger, maybe one I’d only seen in passing. He can’t get enough of me. He needs me. He’ll have me. He follows me wherever I’m going, lying in wait. It doesn’t matter how much I resist. I’m going to be his. He. Will. Have. Me.

As expected, your phone is blown up by the time you check it. Hundreds of old, gross, sleazy men desperate to get a taste of your — shudder — young pussy, as one called it. You hadn’t given a specific age, just that you’re in your 20s, but they all seem content to run with the idea of you being on the lower end, rather than the higher. Perverts.

You scroll through the messages. each one confirming the rational part of your brain that says this is a stupid, dangerous idea and you should forget you ever even had it.

It’s the one at the bottom that stops you. Sent not long after you’d gone to sleep, but they’d liked the post almost instantly. The profile picture is like yours — grainy, blurred, but suggesting a toned, young-ish, large body — and he too is in his 20s, if he’s telling the truth. His message is short and respectful— a breath of fresh air.

youknowme: Nice post. Do you really want that, or do you just like imagining it?

You bite your lip. You don’t know why, but this person feels… different. Exciting. You want to know more.

rosedepths: i really want it. can you give it to me?

youknowme: I could. Would you take it all?

You chuckle— you know what he means, but you figure you’ll have some fun. See if he’s expecting a sweet, scared little doe who’ll be quick to submit; or if he’s expecting a fight. If he’s expecting you.

rosedepths: nope.

The typing button appears and disappears a few times. You assume he doesn’t like your response, and he’s not as exciting a match as you’d hoped, until his next message comes through.

youknowme: Yes, you will.

Oh, fuck. You feel yourself leaking as you read it over and over. You’re desperate to know more.

rosedepths: have you done this before? raping a stranger?

youknowme: I hope you’re talking about CNC, Rose. If you are, then yes. I have.

rosedepths: you any good at it?

youknowme: I’ve subdued much feistier things than you. I can give you what you’re asking for. Do you want it?

The need in your stomach is so profound you think you could keel over. You’ve never found it easier to type something out.

rosedepths: yes.

You talk until you sleep, and you’re optimistic about this guy. He’s careful and meticulous with your kinks and limits, guiding you through the details while still retaining the mystery and allure you’re craving. Despite your protests, he insists on a safeword, but assures you that that’s ‘the only thing in the world that will stop him.’

As you become more familiar with this site, designed solely for this purpose it seems, you see this man is… popular. To say the least. He even has what looks like a review section from other women he’s fucked and oh, there’s pictures. Not of him— but of the deep bruises and stinging cuts he’s left behind. You click through the reviews, pupils dilating the longer you stare the screen down.

He fucked me so good.

He put me in my place.

He’s brutal.

No one’s ever made me cry like that. Or cum.

When he proposes a meeting, you don’t think twice.

By the time next Friday rolls around, the knot in your stomach is a constant; it follows you around, heavy and aching as it trails behind every step. You know it’s just nerves, excitement, the thrill of knowing you’re about to do something very, very wrong. But some part of you does wonder if it’s doubt— are you being stupid? Is this a bad idea? Well, yes. You are and it is. But is it… too bad? You don’t know. As the clock ticks slowly towards your ‘appointment’, you feel more and more anxious to find out.

You clock out at 5, hurrying down the stairs of your office building to dash home. You’d prepared your bag already, shaved this morning and placed your fanciest, laciest set of lingerie under your work clothes. You take a second to freshen up, touch up your makeup and dump your work bag on your bed before you’re hurrying out the door again.

The hotel he’d booked is downtown, shiny and new and well beyond your price range. You wonder for a moment what this man does for work. Your knowledge of him is very, very limited— by design, of course. This whole game, this whole exercise hinges on him being a total stranger. But still, you can’t help but be curious. The one clue you have is the name the room was booked under— Yunho. You must have said it to yourself a thousand times; trying it out, the sound, the feeling. It tastes tantalising on your tongue and you’re bubbling with need by the time you make it to your room.

You hesitate when you reach the door. He’d told you he’d arrive later, at an undetermined time, but you can’t help but wonder. Is he in there, lying in wait? Will you open the door to find him sat on the bed, or hidden behind a corner, or, your heart races at the thought, right there on the other side? You breathe, in, out, in, out. You can do this. There’s nothing you could find on the other side of the door that you wouldn’t beg for another day.

You’re almost disappointed when you walk into the room to find it totally empty. You check the bathroom, the corners, the cupboards, half hoping to find him looming there, waiting to strike. But you don’t. You sigh, sitting down on the bed and sliding off your shoes. You’re not really sure what to do now. You suppose you could touch yourself, you doubt he’d blame you for being excited, but over the past few days, without realising you’ve found yourself almost saving yourself for him; each time your hands had wandered down there, you’d stopped yourself. He’ll take care of it.

Sighing, you decide to turn on the TV, flicking lazily through the channels until you find something that entertains you until he arrives.

With every unexplained noise, every creaking of a neighbour’s door, you look up eagerly, hoping to see Yunho looming in the doorway. But you don’t. Hours go by, your hope fading more and more, until you accept that he’s just not coming tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. You hope.

By the time you’re ready to sleep, you’ve passed several hours in front of the mindless reality show you ended up settling on. Trying to ignore the crushing disappointment that Yunho hasn’t shown up today, and the fear that he never will, you turn the TV off and settle into the sheets.

He’ll come tomorrow. He has to.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you make yourself comfortable in the cool, fresh sheets. The only sounds in the quiet room are your slow, steady breaths and the low hum of the air-conditioning. As your eyes begin to droop, you feel yourself relaxing into the memory foam, wondering and hoping he’ll be there when you wake up…

Click.

There’s a hand on your mouth. The lights are on.

Your eyes snap open and your body jolts, adrenaline flowing instantly. The hand is large, covering your mouth and nose and you can’t breathe.

As you adjust to the light you get a good look at him, and you’re so shocked that for a moment you forget you’re supposed to struggle. Yunho is gorgeous. Fading blue hair, dark enough to seem black from a distance; features gentle, eyes dangerous and all blending perfectly together. He’s wearing a white shirt and pinstripe waistcoat that struggles against a broad, toned chest that seems to be trying to escape and his large hands are covered by a pair of thick, leather gloves.

Fuck. You’d beg for this man any other day, happily and eagerly. But you can’t do that now. You have to fight. You thrash against him, legs flailing but his body holds you down, pinning you in place and oh, he’s large, too. He could incapacitate you now and be done with it, but it seems he wants to play.

“Well, aren’t you sweet.”

His voice is low and rough and addictive, dripping with want and danger. He stares you down, eyes narrowed, blank, burning.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?”

The pressure of his hand has eased enough for you to breathe and you lie still for a moment, gauging your next move. You nod, slowly. I’ll be good.

He smiles, not really believing you, and then his hands are off you. For one second, they’re off of you and you take your chance— you jump up and bolt out of the bed, dashing in the direction of the door. You hear him curse, but you know he’d chosen this room, large enough to practically count as a suite, specifically to give you more room to run. And run you do; you’re still half-asleep — you’re not quite sure if you did fall asleep, in the end, or if he got to you just as you were drifting off — but the adrenaline pumping through your veins is enough to carry your feet towards the exit.

You hear him on your tail but he’s not running— no, his steps are leisurely, like he knows he’s going to catch you and is merely amused by your idea that it would end any other way.

He lets you get to the door and pull it halfway open, just enough to think you’ll make it out into the hall, before it slams shut in your face, only just missing your fingers where they’d lingered in the doorway. Then there’s strong arms on your body, slamming you with full force, your body colliding painfully with the heavy wood. You struggle pitifully in his hold and as the lock clicks shut above you, you hear the barely restrained anger in his voice.

“And where the fuck are you going, bitch?” He growls. He grabs your hair and tugs your head backwards, sending a painful sting through your scalp then slams your head back against the door. “You tryna get away, pretty girl?”

You grunt, pushing back against him as hard as you can, but with his firm grip on you all you manage to do is push your ass back against his crotch. He groans, the grip on your hair tightening. “Fucking tease,” he mutters. “Bet you’re wet already.”

He spins you around, holding you by the neck against the door, his body caging you in as his other hand roams across your breasts, squeezing them just short of painfully. You struggle fruitlessly but you’re completely trapped and you know it.

You feel his knee nudging at your closed legs, clenched together to keep him away from your heat as if it’s not aching for him already. “Open,” he says.

“Never.”

“Fine.” His leg draws back and lands a kick between your knees and you yelp, legs forced apart; he shoves his thigh into the gap, holding your legs open and your pussy exposed as his hand runs up your bare thigh and slips beneath the silk slip you curse yourself for wearing to bed. Could you have made this any easier for him?

His fingers tease the edge of your cotton panties, pulling it back and slapping the elastic against your skin and all you can do is stay in place, held under his weight as he toys with you. But you’re not done and this isn’t over. You’re just biding your time. You just need an opportunity; a moment of carelessness for you to slip away.

He runs a finger softly across your covered pussy, and the smug expression on his face tells you exactly what he finds there.

“For someone who doesn’t want this,” he says, “you’re awfully fucking wet.”

“Fuck you,” you spit.

He’s quick to react; a heavy slap lands on your face, turning your head forcefully to the side and leaving a lingering ache.

“Wet and mouthy,” he says. “I wonder how quickly you’ll break.”

Your stomach twists but you give nothing away; you’re enjoying the back and forth, the game, too much to give up yet, no matter how desperately you want him to just fuck you alrady.

“I’ll never fucking break,” you snap.

“Oh, you’ll break.” He leans in closer, enough for you to feel his breath on your face as he speaks. “They always do.”

You can hear your heart beating wildly, pounding against your ribs and your breath stutters. “And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t…” He lets the words hang in the air, gaze flickering across your shivering form. His mouth curls into a thin smile. “I’ll just have to hurt you real, real bad.”

You swallow thickly, tension caught in your throat. You wish that didn’t sound so enticing.

“Now,” he says. “Open your mouth.”

You force yourself to laugh, amused despite your terror by the notion that you’d just give in and obey. You purse your lips, sealing your mouth shut— directly defiant. His eyes flash and his hand tightens around your throat, cutting off your airflow as he presses down on the sides of your neck. You manage to hold out for a few seconds until you feel your eyes bulge and you gasp, mouth opening in a desperate bid for air. He loosens his grip, grabbing your chin and pushing his thumb in just far enough to hold your mouth open for him to spit into it. The saliva lands on your tongue and he pushes your mouth closed, pressing his hand over your mouth and nose again. “Swallow.”

Knowing he won’t let you breathe until you do, you swallow the spit; it feels disgusting and degrading sliding down your throat but the humiliation burns with pleasure and you’re desperate for more.

“Good girl,” he smiles. “Not that hard to listen, is it?”

You scowl, squirming under his hold. Yes, it is that hard. You manage to wring your arms free enough to grab at his arm, trying to pull his hand off of your face. In the panic one of your nails digs into his forearm and he growls, pulling you forward just to slam you backwards again. Your ears are ringing and his hand is pressed even tighter across your mouth and nose.

“Disobedient little bitch,” he hisses, “you want me to fuck you up?”

Yes, fuck, please, your mind says. But you keep that on the inside, and instead of begging or submitting or doing any of the things your body is screaming and pleading for you to do, you bite down. You bite down hard.

The taste of blood is a small victory as he shouts, snatching his hand away from you but this time he doesn’t give you the chance to get away; you make it a few steps before he grabs your wrists, clutching them easily in his injured hand, forcing them behind you back and twisting them painfully to hold you in place so he can backhand you again— and again, and again. You scream in pain, but if he notices, he doesn’t care. His expression is livid, eyes black and burning with rage. “Fucking. Little. Bitch.” Each word is punctuated by a hard slap, knocking the wind out of you over and over.

“Someone needs to put you in your fucking place,” he growls. “Dumb little sex slave.”

The word hits you somewhere deep, stomach twisting into knots as wetness pools. Slave. Fuck.

“I’m not your fucking sex slave,” you bite back and he laughs.

“You don’t know what the fuck you are. Stop squirming.” He twists your arms a little further, teetering on the edge of too far. You whine, straining against him and he cooes. “Hurts, baby?”

“Yes it fucking hurts,” you snap.

He snorts, amused. His eyes darken again as he leans in closer. “Any more attitude and I’ll fucking break them.”

You can’t help the gasp that escapes you, fear pushing through your veins again. His grip on your arms is iron and you know he could snap them with ease. But would he really? You say nothing, staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes. He grins.

“Don’t think I won’t,” he laughs. “I’ll break every bone in your body if it’ll keep you pliant.”

“I’ll do it one by one,” he continues. His grip on your wrists tightens again but he doesn’t twist any further; still toeing the line. “Nice and slow so you feel it all,” he smiles, and you know he’s imagining it as he speaks. You wish you could say you weren’t. “Let you hear the crack of each bone snapping in half until you’re completely destroyed. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You shake your head, voice quivering. “No.”

“Good.”

You scowl, squirming again to show your displeasure. “Let me go, Yunho.”

He hadn’t told you what to call him, but you decide to take a gamble that he doesn’t want you using his name and you’re right— he grabs your neck, pressing down hard enough to make you dizzy. “Call me that again,” he hisses, “and I’ll slit your fucking throat. Got it?”

You catch the whimper before it leaves your throat but you can’t stop your pussy from leaking even more than it already was. You didn’t know you could be so terrified or so horny. But you’re not giving up yet.

“You call me sir,” he says, “is that clear?”

You smile thinly. “Yes, sir,” you say, so sweet and polite that he sees right through it. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for your next move and it comes in the form of a wad of spit, landing like a bullet between his eyes.

Then you’re on the bed. You’re landing on the bed, shoved down and he’s crawling over you, holding you down with his weight and— there’s a knife on your throat.

Your eyes widen, all your blood rushing to your head at once. A knife… he’d never mentioned a knife. On your profile you’d said you were open to knife play, but he was so meticulous when he went through all the kinks he was planning that you thought… Well, you didn’t think he’d have a knife.

“Oh, that got your attention, didn’t it?” He grins. There’s a fire, a dangerous gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before and you feel it in the deepest parts of your body. You feel something else, too, and it burns just as brightly as your arousal. As he presses the knife down just enough to sting, you realise you are genuinely, truly afraid of Yunho. And yet…

Yunho sees it too; “fucking gushing,” he spits. “You’re more sick than I am. Don’t act like a victim now.”

You whine, squirming slightly and he hums thoughtfully.

“Or do,” he decides. “Actually, I’m sort of hoping you don’t do what I tell you. I’d love to watch the light leave your eyes when you finally stop struggling.”

Your breath hitches, caught in your throat. You don’t… you don’t know how you feel about this. You knew he’d be intense; the reviews had painted a clear picture of just how much he feeds off of fear. But there’s a wild, uncontrolled look in his eyes as he threatens your life so casually, so smoothly, that makes you wonder…

No. You know it’s fake. It’s all fake. You know it’s just a game and you know he’d stop if you said the safe word he gave you. But the knife at your neck is real. The darkness in his eyes is real. The fear is real. And he sees it in your eyes, his lips twitching into a small smile as though he can tell the exact moment you accept it. “Good girl,” he purrs. “Are you ready to listen?”

You say nothing, glowering up at him. He smiles, tilting his head.

“Open your mouth.”

Fuck no. This isn’t over. You meet his eyes with your mouth firmly, resoundingly shut. You purse your lips for good measure, determined to disobey.

His hand collides with your face again; the back of it, this time, and the feeling of his knuckles against your cheek makes you cry out before you can stop yourself. He seizes the opportunity of your parted lips and plunges two gloved fingers into your mouth. You choke, spluttering and he tuts, looking disappointed. Even with fingers in your throat, you feel like a naughty, scolded child beneath his firm gaze.

“See,” he says, his voice low, “I could make this so much worse for you. It’s in your best interest to do what I tell you.”

His fingers push in deeper and you feel the bile rising; you thrash and panic in his hold and he snorts, finally easing up. As you gasp for breath, he pulls his fingers away, a string of drool following him from your mouth and coating his fingers. He wipes them down on his pressed pants, looking disgusted. “Fucking mutt,” he spits. “Let’s put you to good use.”

Before you can register what’s happening, his dick is pushing into your mouth and fuck he’s massive. You can hardly hold him in your throat and your vision blurs with tears even before he starts to move— when he does, he wastes no time starting slow; he goes straight to fucking your mouth with hard, deep thrusts and you feel your tears and saliva cascading down onto your chest. You must look disgusting, but you’ve never heard anyone sound as feral as he does.

Just as you’re getting used to the feeling, he pulls out. His cock slaps against your face before he flips you over, bending you painfully over the edge of the bed. He doesn’t waste time prepping you — not that he needs to with the way you’re dripping — before forcing himself into your tight hole. You scream, feeling yourself being torn apart and he laughs, pushing your head into the mattress. “Fucking bitch,” he growls. His low voice is barely heard above the slapping of his skin on yours and the lewd squelching of your sopping pussy. You burn with humiliation but you can hardly think of anything but the pain of being stretched open and the force of his thrusts. You sob into the sheets but he doesn’t care, only getting rougher each time you cry out.

“Take it,” he barks, “you’ve been waiting for this dick your entire fucking life. So fucking take it.”

“S-sir,” you gasp. You thrash as much as you can under his iron grip, dizzy with pain and pleasure.

He snarls, hand landing hard on your ass. “Drop the act, bitch,” he growls. “I know you fucking love this. Clench.”

Still sobbing, you do your best to obey, clenching your pussy around his dick and it sends a jolt of electricity through your body. He groans, movement stuttering slightly under the new pressure on his dick.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Such a pretty little victim. With a tight fucking hole.”

You feel his orgasm approaching; all the pent-up energy and frustration of fighting and subduing you pulsing through his dick as it pounds against your walls. His grip tightens on your waist, other arm coming to wrap around your neck, holding you in a chokehold as he finally releases inside you.

He grunts and moans through his orgasm and you feel the warmth of his cum filling you up before he finally collapses on top of you, pulling out quickly.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “It’s over, baby.”

The dam breaks. Your low, desperate sobs give way to full blown weeping, your whole body shivering with each cry. A million emotions, previously drowned out by pain and fear and pleasure, are suddenly at the surface, pushing against your skin and desperate to break through. You couldn’t name or number them if you tried but you don’t have to, because Yunho is there— his hands are on your skin, voice in your ear as he soothes you with whispered words you can’t comprehend.

“I’ve got you,” you finally make out. He says it again and again, over and over. It forms a familiar rhythm you can follow and cling to as you come back down to earth.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

He’s there when the fog clears, cradling your aching body in his arms. His smile is soft and fond but there’s a concern in his eyes as he looks you up and down. “How do you feel?” He asks.

You open your mouth but no words come; you make a soft, content-sounding noise, the best you can do for now, and he chuckles. “I’ll take that as ‘you’re fine’, then.”

He shifts slightly, adjusting you to hold you closer to his chest. You follow his heartbeat as it thuds lowly in his chest. You hadn’t expected this, really; he’d said aftercare was a non-negotiable for him, so you knew he wasn’t going to just fuck you and dip, but the care and tenderness with which he cradles and soothes you is almost as electric as the brutality of before. It’s as funny as it was, you suppose, inevitable— this man has violated you in every way, and yet you’ve never felt more safe than you do in his arms. Two separate faces; opposing but inseparable.

A while later, he asks if he can give you a bath and you nod. You’re strangely embarrassed as he lowers you into the hot water, quietly soothing you when you hiss as it touches the wounds on your ass and thighs; maybe it’s the tenderness of his care or the knowledge that every mark on your body was put there by him, but you feel oddly exposed.

Still, he’s careful as he holds you still, letting your aching joints soak as he cleanses you of the remnants of what he just did to you. When he lifts you out, wrapping you in a soft towel and carrying you back to bed, you feel like you’re floating on a cloud.

Your voice returns soon enough, and quickly something pushes through to the front of your mind. Still slightly in the haze of subspace as the last drops of adrenaline dissipate, it seems like a reasonable, if not pertinent question.

“Yunho,” you say. He makes a ‘hm?’ noise, squeezing your thigh in recognition. “Would you really have broken my bones?”

He laughs, and you feel his body shaking slightly. It feels… warm. Familiar. “No,” he says. “That’s just part of the game. My favourite part, actually.”

“What part?”

“Making you wonder if it’s really a game.”

Through the aching pain of your pussy, you feel a slight twinge, making you clench unconsciously. Oh.

“You had a safeword,” he says. “So I knew I could push you. But I didn’t do anything I wasn’t sure would make your little pussy throb.”

You can’t help but blush at his words, mewling slightly as you snuggle further into his hold. You could stay like this, wrapped in his strong arms and held securely against his chest, for a long, long time. You wonder if he could, too.

“Yunho,” you say softly.

“Will you stay?”

You glance at him nervously, afraid of his answer. He smiles, holding you closer. “As long as you need,” he says.

-

thank you for reading! comments/feedback/reblogs are appreciated! requests are open! love🖤🖤🖤

taglist open!

[fangdokja]

Which other yan blogs do you like the most? Got any recs? ❤️

From Smut to Storytelling: A Comprehensive Guide to Tumblr’s Yandere Content Creators

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

Since I focus on high-quality, impactful works, I will not be including every blog I’ve ever read but rather those that have stood out over time. My goal is to provide a strategic breakdown of each blog’s strengths and key appeal points for different reader preferences.

Before proceeding, it’s important to note:

These recommendations are specific to Tumblr. If you are looking for erotic horror or truly intense horror narratives with a realistic risk of death or severe, permanent consequences for the protagonist, I recommend exploring AO3 instead. Even then, such content remains scarce, which is why I primarily create my own.

I do not engage in networking. My interactions with content creators and readers are purely based on personal enjoyment, and I do not expect or seek anything in return. My reviews are not influenced by personal relationships or mutual support. These are purely objective evaluations of writing and engagement styles.

Every blog has its strengths and weaknesses. While I focus on strengths here, I am aware of areas where improvement is possible. However, I refrain from sharing critiques unless requested, as my primary intent is to highlight what each blog excels at.

Best Blogs for Socialization, Networking, and Friendliness

For those looking to engage with friendly, social, and network-oriented yandere content creators, two blogs stand out:

@yandere-romanticaa

@suiana

These two blogs offer distinctly different yet complementary approaches to social interaction, content creation, and audience engagement. Below is a comprehensive breakdown of their strengths, characteristics, and what to expect from them.

1. @yandere-romanticaa – The Genuine, Passionate Creator

Social and Networking Strengths

Most Genuine Approach to Networking: Unlike many content creators who network primarily for exposure, @/yandere-romanticaa engages with others purely for enjoyment and natural connection. There is no sense of transactional networking or expectation of mutual benefit. Her interactions with both authors and readers appear completely sincere.

Balanced Communication: She interacts regularly with her audience without overwhelming them. The communication is neither excessive nor lacking, making her blog an ideal space for both active and passive engagement.

Warm but Not Overbearing: While welcoming and social, she does not force interactions. Her friendliness feels natural rather than performative.

Content and Writing Approach

Fandom-Centric Yandere Writing: Unlike many yandere-focused blogs that primarily produce original content, she focuses on fandom-based yandere writing, including characters who are not commonly explored.

Writes for Herself, Not for Trends: She does not chase popularity or tailor content for mass appeal. Instead, she creates what she enjoys, which results in more genuine, passion-driven content.

Diverse Character Selection: Some of her chosen characters are lesser-known or underrepresented in yandere content, offering a fresh perspective for readers seeking variety.

Overall Blog Atmosphere

Welcoming and Comfortable: The atmosphere is inviting to both new and returning readers. While she does not engage in forced networking, she remains open to discussions and interactions.

Relatable and Transparent: Many readers, even those with serious personalities, may find aspects of her self-expressive content relatable.

Consistent but Not Overly Structured: While her blog has a general sense of organization, it does not follow an overly rigid structure. This flexibility allows for a more relaxed experience.

Who Should Follow?

Those looking for a genuine and friendly content creator who interacts naturally.

Readers who enjoy fandom-based yandere content, whether mainstream or lesser-known characters.

Those who appreciate creators who write for themselves rather than for engagement metrics.

2. @suiana – The Chaotic, Lighthearted Entertainer

Social and Networking Strengths

High Engagement and Accessibility: @/suiana actively interacts with her audience in a way that feels casual and approachable. Her blog has a similar social dynamic to @/tonycries, making it ideal for those who enjoy an open and relaxed community.

Effortlessly Humorous and Entertaining: Her approach to audience interaction is playful and unpredictable. She does not follow a traditional structure when engaging with readers, which results in a unique and entertaining social experience.

A "Laughter to the Soul" Experience: Unlike many yandere content creators who focus on darker themes, her presence is lighthearted, often comedic, and unpredictable in a way that feels refreshing rather than forced.

Content and Writing Approach

Chaos-Driven, Unstructured Content: While some authors adhere to strict formatting and structured writing, @/suiana embraces spontaneity. The lack of rigid consistency in her writing reflects her personality—free-spirited, lively, and unfiltered.

Meme Culture Integration: A significant portion of her content is influenced by meme culture, making it more digestible and engaging for casual readers.

Light and Easy-to-Consume Yandere Content: Rather than producing heavy, deep psychological yandere narratives, her content leans toward entertainment and humor, making it ideal for those who want something less intense.

Overall Blog Atmosphere

Informal and Fun: The atmosphere is chaotic yet welcoming, making it suitable for readers who enjoy casual interactions without pressure.

Highly Interactive: She frequently engages with her audience, creating a dynamic space where interactions feel personal rather than distant.

Unstructured but Authentic: The unpredictable nature of her content means that followers never know what to expect, adding to the blog’s charm.

Who Should Follow?

Readers who enjoy humor, chaos, and lighthearted yandere content.

Those who prefer highly interactive blogs that engage directly with the audience.

People who don’t mind lack of structure and enjoy spontaneous, unpredictable content.

Conclusion

Both @/yandere-romanticaa and @/suiana offer unique and engaging experiences, but their styles cater to different audiences.

If you prefer a genuine, naturally social creator who focuses on fandom-based yandere content, @/yandere-romanticaa is the ideal choice. She does not network for clout but engages sincerely with others, making her blog a strong recommendation for those seeking real interactions.

If you enjoy chaotic, lighthearted, meme-filled, and interactive content, @/suiana provides an experience similar to @/tonycries but with her own quirky twist. Her blog thrives on humor, making it an entertaining space for casual engagement.

Ultimately, both blogs offer friendly and welcoming environments, making them excellent recommendations for those looking to connect with others in the yandere community. The best choice depends on whether you prefer structured fandom yandere writing with organic socialization or spontaneous, humorous, and highly interactive content.

Best Blogs for Long-Form Content and Committed Readers

For those who appreciate long-form storytelling, detailed character studies, and in-depth analysis, two standout blogs in the yandere community are:

@darkbluekies

@cinnamonest

These blogs offer rich, immersive content that rewards committed readers willing to invest in well-developed narratives and detailed exploration of character psychology. Below is a comprehensive breakdown of their strengths, writing approaches, and the overall experience they provide.

1. @darkbluekies – The Classic Long-Form Storyteller

Core Strengths:

Long-Form Narrative Structure: Unlike many yandere blogs that focus on short drabbles or rapid content bursts, @/darkbluekies prioritizes fully developed storylines. This allows for deeper immersion and a stronger emotional impact, making her work well-suited for those who prefer slow-burn narratives rather than quick gratification.

Character-Driven Stories: A major highlight is the focus on characterization. The characters feel like actual people rather than plot devices, which is a testament to strong writing. Silas, in particular, is a great example of a well-developed yandere whose actions are dictated by internal logic rather than mere trope execution.

Commitment to Depth: Her approach allows the plot to "simmer," which is a major strength for those who enjoy binge-reading after the buildup. The detailed nature of the writing ensures that when events unfold, they feel meaningful rather than rushed.

Consistency in Writing Quality: The prose is polished and demonstrates a commitment to careful execution rather than surface-level writing. There is no reliance on shock value or overused tropes without justification; instead, every element is deliberately placed for effect.

Ideal Audience:

Readers who prefer slow-burn yandere fiction with fully realized characters rather than instant gratification.

Those who enjoy structured, thought-out narratives over quick headcanons or one-off scenarios.

Readers who prefer to binge-read rather than consume sporadic short content.

Why It Stands Out:

Many yandere blogs prioritize high-volume output, focusing on quick drabbles or low-investment posts. @/darkbluekies, in contrast, values long-term engagement and immersion, making her blog ideal for those looking for deeper storytelling rather than surface-level content.

2. @cinnamonest – The Analytical Dark Smut Specialist

Core Strengths:

In-Depth Character Analysis: This is arguably the most valuable feature of the blog. @/cinnamonest takes a methodical, research-based approach to yandere characterization, deconstructing characters from multiple angles while ensuring their portrayals remain as accurate as possible to their original source material.

Comprehensive Character Profiles: Unlike general fandom posts, which often apply a one-size-fits-all approach to yandere characterization, her work focuses on precise and well-reasoned breakdowns. These analyses are particularly useful for understanding how different characters would realistically behave as yanderes without distorting their personalities.

Dark Smut & Psychological Depth: While she does write fanfiction—including dark smut—it maintains the same level of intellectual engagement and structural integrity as her analysis work. The psychological depth in these works makes them feel purposeful rather than just shock-driven or formulaic.

Commitment to Accuracy: Many blogs impose personal interpretations on characters that contradict their canon traits. @/cinnamonest instead grounds her assessments in the actual source material, making her blog one of the most objectively reliable when it comes to character-based discussions.

Ideal Audience:

Readers who enjoy analysis and intellectual breakdowns of yandere characters rather than just surface-level tropes.

Writers who want to study character profiles and deepen their understanding of yandere psychology.

Readers who appreciate accurate, well-thought-out interpretations of characters as yanderes rather than generic fanon distortions.

Why It Stands Out:

There are very few yandere blogs that take an analytical approach rather than an emotional or trope-based one. @/cinnamonest bridges critical analysis and fan engagement, offering content that is both intellectually satisfying and narratively compelling.

Conclusion: Two Different Strengths, One Common Thread

Both @/darkbluekies and @/cinnamonest excel in long-form, immersive, and substantial content, but they serve different purposes:

@/darkbluekies is the go-to for structured narrative-driven yandere fiction, where storylines and characters are developed over time.

@/cinnamonest provides analytical depth, offering breakdowns of yandere characters with objective accuracy and structured thought.

For readers who value long-form engagement, well-constructed narratives, or intellectual analysis, these two blogs are among the best options.

Blogs with the Best Overall Writing Quality (Plot, Style, Pacing, and Timing)

⭐Fang Dokja's Personally Fav Fanfic Blogs: @/yanderenightmare & @/yanderedrabbles

In assessing the best overall writing in terms of plot structure, writing style, pacing, and timing, two Tumblr blogs stand out:

@yanderenightmare

@yanderedrabbles

Both of these blogs consistently deliver short, impactful, and highly engaging content that makes them ideal for readers who prefer bite-sized, yet immersive yandere fanfiction.

While long-form writing is a different experience, short-form content requires a precise balance of storytelling, character impact, and pacing efficiency. These two blogs excel in this area, maintaining quality while keeping stories digestible.

These blogs excel in concise, well-crafted stories with strong pacing, making them ideal for readers who prefer high-impact short-form content.

1. @yanderenightmare: The Gold Standard of Organization & Precision

1. Blog Organization & Readability

Among all the Tumblr fanfiction blogs, @/yanderenightmare has the cleanest and most structured format. This is a highly underrated strength, as blog clutter can significantly affect readability, ease of access, and long-term engagement.

Separation of reblogs from main content: Unlike many fanfiction writers who mix reblogs, asks, and external discussions into their main page, @/yanderenightmare keeps everything separate. Readers searching for purely original content will not have to filter through unrelated posts, ensuring a smooth reading experience.

Minimal wasted space: Every post has a clear function—whether it's a story update, an announcement, or a clarification ask. There is no unnecessary filler or excessive personal discourse that disrupts the content flow.

Content-focused approach: This kind of tight content curation is rare, making her blog the most efficient for readers who want to consume content without distractions.

2. Strength in Timing, Pacing, and Narrative Flow

A major factor that makes @/yanderenightmare’s writing stand out is her precision in story delivery. She has an innate sense of pacing and timing, knowing exactly when to introduce tension, escalate conflict, and deliver resolution—all within a short-form format.

No wasted words: Every line contributes to either character development or plot advancement, making her writing compact yet immersive.

Worldbuilding without unnecessary exposition: She manages to incorporate background details and setting depth without long-winded explanations, making the stories more engaging.

Impactful endings: Short-form writing requires a strong conclusion, and she consistently delivers memorable final lines that leave a lasting impression.

3. Classic Yandere Characters & Entertaining Worldbuilding

Beyond pacing and organization, her characters have a classic appeal that resonates with hard dom, non-con yandere fans. While shorter stories often limit depth, her characters remain vivid and recognizable through subtle but effective characterization.

Classic yandere themes executed well (possession, control, obsession).

Balanced mix of worldbuilding and action, ensuring that even shorter works feel immersive.

Distinctive writing voice that sets her apart in the genre.

For readers who prioritize clean blog organization, strong pacing, and an engaging, distraction-free experience, @/yanderenightmare is the best choice.

2. @yanderedrabbles – The Titan of Short-Form Yandere Fiction

Strengths in Writing and Story Execution

Pioneer in Short-Form Yandere Fiction: @/yanderedrabbles is widely recognized as one of the most well-known and respected short-form yandere fanfiction blogs.

Perfectly Executed Bite-Sized Content: Each piece is designed to be short yet immersive, making her works ideal for on-the-go reading without sacrificing quality.

Strong Narrative Cohesion in Limited Word Count: Despite the brevity, her stories manage to maintain solid plot structures, clear character motivations, and immersive tension, which is difficult to achieve in short-form writing.

Content and Writing Approach

Easily Digestible Stories Without Excessive Complexity: Unlike long-form writers who focus on drawn-out plot development, @/yanderedrabbles excels at delivering immediate impact, ensuring that each short story leaves a lasting impression.

Consistent Theme and Style: Her writing style remains reliable and easy to recognize, making her works ideal for binge-reading.

Classic Non-Con Dom Yandere Characters: Her portrayals of yandere characters align with the dominant, possessive, and obsessive archetypes, making them a go-to for fans of intense yandere dynamics.

Overall Blog Atmosphere

Quick and Readable Content Structure: Her blog is designed for readers who prefer fast but engaging stories, making it one of the best choices for those who don’t have time for long-form narratives.

Perfect for Re-Reading: Due to the short nature of her works, they are highly re-readable, making it easy for readers to return to their favorite pieces without needing to commit to an extended story arc.

Classic Yet Evergreen Writing Style: Even though her works have been around for a while, they remain just as relevant and enjoyable as when they were first posted.

Who Should Follow?

Readers who prefer short, easy-to-consume stories with satisfying plots.

Those who enjoy classic dominant yandere characters without unnecessary narrative complexity.

Fans of fast-paced but well-written yandere fiction that can be read in one sitting.

Conclusion

Both @/yanderenightmare and @/yanderedrabbles provide top-tier short-form yandere content, but they excel in different areas:

@/yanderenightmare is the best choice for readers who value structure, pacing, and a clutter-free reading experience. Her blog’s organization and efficiency make her stories easy to consume, while her pacing and timing create a strong narrative impact.

@/yanderedrabbles is ideal for those who want quick, re-readable, high-quality yandere fiction without unnecessary complexity. Her stories are designed for immediate enjoyment, making them perfect for on-the-go reading.

For readers who appreciate structured storytelling and a well-organized blog, @/yanderenightmare is the best fit. For those who prefer classic yandere short-form content that is fast and impactful, @/yanderedrabbles is unmatched.

Both blogs cater to short-form yandere fiction readers while maintaining a high standard of writing, pacing, and readability, making them essential follows for fans of the genre.

Other Notable Mentions

Anime Short-Form / Easy-to-Consume Content

1. @animeyanderelover

Overview:

One of the most beginner-friendly yandere blogs, specializing in short-form, anime-themed content. This blog serves as a foundational entry point for those new to yandere works, offering easily digestible content that does not require deep emotional or psychological investment.

Strengths:

Wide Variety: Covers a broad range of anime characters, including both mainstream and lesser-known figures, ensuring continuous content expansion.

Accessible Writing Style: The writing is light and easy to follow, making it suitable for readers who prefer casual consumption rather than long-form, intricate plots.

Frequent Updates: Due to the short-form nature of the content, posts are frequent, offering a steady flow of material for casual binge-reading.

Ideal For:

Readers who are new to the yandere genre and want introductory content.

Those who enjoy anime-based yandere scenarios with a mix of mainstream and niche characters.

Readers who prefer quick, on-the-go consumption rather than long narratives.

────────────

2. Niche Manhwa / Long-Form Yandere Content

@cassanderasblog

Overview:

A blog dedicated to niche manhwa-inspired yandere content, typically centered on dominant love interests who regret their past actions and attempt to reconcile with the reader. The storytelling aligns with the classic "angsty ex-lover redemption" trope, making it appealing to those who enjoy emotionally charged narratives.

Strengths:

Manhwa-Inspired Writing: Content structure resembles plotlines commonly found in manhwa, making it a strong fit for readers familiar with the genre.

Regret & Redemption Tropes: Appeals to readers who enjoy dominant characters with a softer side, seeking atonement.

Longer Narratives: While some readers might find longer posts less digestible, those who enjoy immersive storytelling will appreciate the depth.

Ideal For:

Readers who prefer manhwa tropes and structured narratives.

Fans of regretful dominant yanderes seeking reconciliation.

Those who enjoy character-driven emotional development.

@forbidden-sunlight

Overview:

A blog known for its manhwa and isekai-inspired yandere works, offering a balance between soft yandere romance and meaningful, long-form storytelling. Compared to others, this blog’s tone is less intense, making it a good choice for readers who enjoy subtle, nuanced character interactions.

Strengths:

Soft Yandere Dynamics: Unlike more extreme depictions, this blog’s approach is gentle yet persistent.

Long-Form but Easygoing: The writing is lengthy but maintains a light, introspective tone, making it ideal for relaxed reading sessions.

Manhwa & Isekai Tropes: Content often integrates classic tropes from these genres, such as reincarnation, fate, and noble settings.

Ideal For:

Readers who prefer soft yet devoted yanderes.

Those who enjoy long-form narratives with a more poetic, slice-of-life feel.

Readers looking for meaningful but not overwhelmingly intense yandere content.

────────────

3. Smut-Centric Yandere Blogs

@yandere-daydreams

Overview:

One of the most well-known blogs for yandere smut content. It has built a reputation for its expansive collection of erotic yandere scenarios, covering a wide range of settings and character dynamics.

Strengths:

Extensive Archive: A large body of work spanning multiple years, making it ideal for binge-reading.

Diverse Smut Scenarios: Offers various approaches to yandere relationships, from slow burns to more intense dynamics.

Consistently High-Quality Writing: Each piece maintains a strong level of execution, ensuring reliability in content quality.

Ideal For:

Readers seeking an extensive archive of yandere smut.

Those who enjoy a mix of character-driven narratives and explicit content.

Fans of darker romance with strong erotic tension.

@youryanderedaddy

Overview:

A blog that focuses on short, easily digestible yandere smut with an emphasis on dominant, bullying love interests. The writing often includes scumbag male leads, which aligns well with more aggressive and sadistic yandere portrayals.

Strengths:

Short and Concise: Ideal for quick consumption without long plot build-ups.

Dominant & Bullying Yanderes: The characters often embody possessive, aggressive traits, appealing to those who enjoy such dynamics.

Unique Settings & Plots: While the core themes remain consistent, the scenarios are varied enough to remain engaging.

Ideal For:

Readers looking for quick, intense yandere smut.

Fans of dominant, borderline cruel yanderes.

Those who prefer shorter narratives over drawn-out emotional arcs.

────────────

4. Yandere Art & Storyline-Driven Illustrations

@lan90

Overview:

An artist-blog that pairs concise yandere narratives with illustrations. The balance between visual and textual storytelling makes it an engaging experience.

Strengths:

Art & Story Integration: Unlike purely text-based blogs, this one enhances the reading experience with visuals.

Short, Plot-Driven Works: The narratives are brief yet well-structured, making them easy to follow.

Dopamine-Boosting Content: Due to the fast-paced storytelling and art, it provides quick enjoyment.

Ideal For:

Readers who enjoy art-based storytelling.

Those looking for short, engaging yandere content.

Fans of aesthetic, well-drawn yandere character depictions.

@danijaci

Overview:

Primarily focused on Genshin and Honkai: Star Rail content, this blog blends lighthearted yandere scenarios with comedic elements, making it a refreshing departure from purely dark content.

Strengths:

Fandom-Specific Content: Appeals to Genshin & HSR fans.

Comedic & Lighthearted: The inclusion of humor makes the scenarios more approachable.

Strong Art Quality: Even for non-yandere content, the artwork is consistently well-executed.

Ideal For:

Fans of Genshin Impact & Honkai: Star Rail.

Readers who enjoy a mix of yandere and comedic elements.

Those who appreciate both text and art content.

────────────

5. Yandere Recommendations for Manga, Manhwa & Games

@ystrike1

Overview:

This blog serves as an information hub for yandere content across different media, including manga, manhwa, and video games. It functions similarly to the Male Yandere Reddit community, providing updates and recommendations on yandere-related works outside of fanfiction.

Strengths:

Highly Updated Recommendations: Ensures followers stay informed on new yandere-related media.

Covers Multiple Mediums: Unlike blogs that focus solely on fanfiction, this one extends to games and original works.

Curated for Yandere Enthusiasts: The content is tailored specifically for those interested in discovering new yandere characters and series.

Ideal For:

Readers looking for yandere content beyond fanfiction.

Those interested in manga, manhwa, and games featuring yanderes.

Fans of structured, update-based content rather than narrative-driven works.

Final Thoughts

This list is structured to help readers find content that aligns with their specific preferences. Whether you enjoy social engagement, in-depth storytelling, short but impactful narratives, or smut-heavy content, each of these blogs brings something unique to the table.

Again, these reviews are purely objective. While I have my personal preferences, this breakdown is based on the strengths each blog demonstrates within their respective categories. If you are new to yandere content on Tumblr or looking for specific types of stories, this should serve as a comprehensive guide.

♡ A/N. This took so long to do ughhhhh. Hope it helps though.

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5 [you are here]. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Dog with No Teeth // Chapter One

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (MDNI): post-apocalypse au, swearing, canon-typical violence, threatening language, death of a minor character

Word Count: 4.6k

On a scavenging run, two unknown groups arrive unannounced. Through the gunfire, you’re separated, cornered, captured. A skull-faced Lieutenant makes a decision, changing your life forever.

Chapter Two

ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist

Eden is a home.

It is a person. A place. A community

It is the scent of old musty books, and the quiet peace before the rising dawn.

You work by candlelight in the silent hours, an open book resting on the table in front of you. Wearing gloves to protect it, you carefully turn the page, gaze scanning the faded lettering. Most of it is legible, and with some time and care, you’ll be able to replicate it on new paper with fresh ink.

Preservation.

Not of your mortal life and those that live in your community, but the preservation of humanity, culture, and human history. Five years since the world fell apart, and yet you remain, carrying on with purpose, restoring books, transcribing those that are close to falling apart, and keeping records of the years that came before.

It is enjoyable, fulfilling work but you serve a greater need to your community. Here, within your sanctuary of several hundred people, you provide them entertainment and education. The children come to you for picture books and story time, and the adults visit when they need an escape.

You are but one piece of a large whole.

“What are you doing here so early?”

You glance up, smiling at your assistant. “Could ask the same,” you laugh, pushing back from the table. Standing, you remove your gloves and set them next to the book.

Sam, your archiving assistant yawns. “Thought I’d get here early since you’re going out today with Zac and his group.” They rub at their eyes. “Shouldn’t you be at the gate already?”

“Shit,” you mutter, checking the mechanical clock hanging on the wall. Sam is right. You should be at the gate right now. “Double shit,” you groan.

Sam laughs and reaches for their own gloves. “I’ll handle this.” Putting them on, Sam settles into your chair. “We doing a refurb on this?”

“No,” you say, running around the room, grabbing your jacket and backpack. “Some of the pages are too faded. Binding is also bust.”

“Transcribe then,” murmurs Sam, gently closing the book to inspect the integrity of the cover. “Where are you going again?”

“Zac mentioned a small town they scoped out. No activity.” You walk over to Sam, yanking your jacket on. “He said there’s a library.”

Sam’s head pops up. “Seriously?”

You nod excitedly. “Said the place was locked up tight. Windows still intact.”

“Untouched?” asks Sam, eyebrows rising in surprise. You nod. Sam whistles lowly. “What a fucking find.”

“I know!” you exclaim. “Could really use some encyclopedias.”

“And dictionaries,” adds Sam longingly.

Tugging on the front of your jacket and then smoothing the front, you zip it up. “Zac said I can bring back as much as I want.”

“Did he really?” Sam shakes their head and opens the front cover of the book. “That man is sweet on you.”

“Which is why I take advantage,” you giggle.

Sam bursts out laughing. “Go. They’ll leave you behind.”

With a grin on your face and a hop to your step, you wave at Sam before heading out the side door and into the early morning. The sun is just starting to rise. Most people are still asleep or starting their day. You walk by the communal buildings where the earliest risers are preparing breakfast. You sigh when you get a whiff of what they’re cooking, wishing you could snag a meal before departing.

As you approach the gate, Zac raises his hand in greeting.

“Have I held everyone up?” you ask tentatively, glancing around.

“Not at all. Still loading up a few things. Your timing is perfect.” Zac smiles, and though you find him pleasant, nothing stirs within you. There is no lust or even romantic interest.

You observe the line of cars queued at the gate. Usually there are only one or two, but there are at least ten vehicles here including the salvaged U-Haul. “Taking a whole convoy?”

“We’re going to need it.”

“For a small town?”

Zac chuckles. “I’m dropping you off at the library. Ben will come with you.”

“I get a security detail?” you ask excitedly and Zac nods. “Fancy.”

Zac scratches at his neck, gaze roaming over the convoy. “There’s a car assembly plant a few miles outside the town. Gonna strip what we can. If things go well, we’ll come back.”

“No activity then?”

“None,” confirms Zac. “We’ve had a scouting team out there for the last two months. Not a soul has passed through.”

“That’s fortunate,” you murmur.

While your community has been largely untouched and unbothered by the outside world, there are still so many unknowns. There have been stragglers that have shown up, and while several have been accepted in and integrated, there are many more that have been turned away or shot on sight. Sometimes you think it cruel, but there are all sorts of horrors in the world now.

Ben walks around the front of the nearest car, and beams in your direction. “Hear I’m looking after you today,” he says, going in for a hug.

You accept it easily. Ben is the comedian of the community, always having a kind word and funny joke.

“And helping me haul books,” you add.

Ben winks in your direction and then turns to Zac. “We’re ready.”

Zac nods. “Load up!” he shouts.

Everyone around you heads to their designated vehicle. Engines roar and car doors slam. You follow Ben, hopping into a dusty Jeep Wrangler.

It’s several hours of open road and clear weather.

You and Ben pass the time by singing songs and playing car games. It’s a good distraction until Zac comes on over the radio and tells Ben their exit is coming up. The rest of the convoy drives on as Ben cuts away to take an exit ramp. A few more minutes and he’s coming to a stop just on the edge of town, parking the Jeep amongst a cluster of trees. The vehicle is completely hidden.

“Ready?” he asks, sliding the keys into his pocket.

“Backpack? Check. Gun? Check. Foldable wagon? Check.”

Ben blows raspberries. “Can’t forget the foldable wagon.”

You playfully smack him on the arm. “You want to haul all those books back yourself.”

“No thank you,” he mutters.

The walk is pleasant, but overall silent. Ben carries an M4AI. The arsenal back home is massive, and whenever there are trips outside the compound, the military-grade weapons come out. He keeps his head on a swivel, but other than the occasional animal sounds and the rustling of leaves, all is quiet.

“Here it is,” sighs Ben, extending one arm toward a stand-alone building at the corner of an intersection.

The library isn’t overly big. If anything, it’s what you’d expect from a small town.

“Now I know you’re excited,” he begins, slightly leaning in your direction. “But you stay close. We’re entering from the back.”

All you can do is nod eagerly, words escaping you. It’s been almost six years since you’ve been inside a library. This is a treat. It takes an insane amount of self-control to not skip all the way to the back of the building.

While the front of the building faces the intersection, behind the library is a small parking lot and two dumpsters. Ben does a slow sweep of the lot as the two of you walk toward the employee entrance. Satisfied that nothing and no one is around, Ben lowers his gun. Removing his backpack, he sets it on the ground, and rummages around inside before withdrawing lockpicks.

Adrenaline surges within you.

A few wiggles.

And then—

Click.

Grinning like an idiot, Ben slips the lockpicks into his backpack and puts it on. Grabbing his gun, he presses himself to the brick wall. Slowly, Ben opens the door with the tip of the rifle. It gives under his touch easily, the hinges even silent as the door swings inwards.

“Draw your weapon,” whispers Ben. “We need to do a sweep first.” As you reach for your Glock, Ben shakes his head. “And leave the damn wagon.”

Leaning the foldable wagon against the wall, you remove your gun from its holster. Ben enters and you follow, shifting your body to watch for anything coming up behind you. It’s a slow sweep. Starting along the wall, the two of you walk the perimeter, checking the back offices, and then finally the center-most area.

Ben comes to a stop near a collection of dusty chairs. Lowering his gun, he sighs with relief. “It’s clear.” He turns in your direction. “I’ll be keeping a lookout at the door. If anything happens, you come directly to me.”

“Got it,” you say with a mock salute.

Ben rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. “And don’t drag those books along because I know you will. Leave them.”

You stare him down but Ben doesn’t budge, matching your stare with one of his own. “I mean it. If someone or something comes barreling through the front doors, you fucking run to me. Understood?”

“Sure. Got it. Understood.”

Ben checks his watch. “We have a few hours before we’re expected back at the meet point. Take your time.” He starts to walk away, and then abruptly pivots. “Wife packed a few sandwiches. Promise I’ll share.”

You snort and wave him off. “Bring me my wagon, Ben.”

“On it,” he calls over his shoulder.

As his footfalls recede, you linger in the quiet, dusty library, taking in the significance of the moment. Six years since you’ve stood inside an actual library. Five years since the world fell apart but a year before, third places were quickly disappearing. No one could spend money when wages were low and all the government’s resources were going toward the war effort. Libraries and free spaces shuttered first, losing all their funding.

This place is precious. Special. A rare opportunity.

Of all the books in your community’s collection, they’ve all come to you by the way of others, collected on routine trips and scavenging missions like today. Since stepping inside the walls you now call home, this is the first time you’ve left it. All the stories you receive of the outside world come from the mouths of those who witness it firsthand.

Like a jubilant child, you want to run around—to touch everything. The tips of your fingers buzz with an incessant itch. But you don’t dare remove anything from the shelves. Resisting is almost physically painful as you float through the aisles, taking it all in. To remove a book off the shelf, to open it up, the smell it and feel it would be paradise.

But you know better. You do.

Disturbing them without the right tools and care might cause damage or undo exposure. What you can do is look, to read the spines, and consider your options. Once you know what you want, you’ll drag your little wagon behind you and go about taking the books you want off the shelves.

Ben does leave you alone, and you’re left to wander.

Each step is light but purposeful as you move about the space. You think of everyone back home, of their likes and dislikes, of their needs and wants. More picture books would be helpful as well as some young adult novels. Some of the women have been asking for romance and few of the older folks would like some historical nonfiction.

“Where are you?” you mutter, digging around in your jacket pockets.

Crumpled paper brushes against your fingers. Withdrawing it, you smooth it out as best you can. Using the little light available to read your scribbled penmanship, you pull the wagon behind you, mentally reordering your notes by priority.

Sam wants dictionaries, and you need to grab a set of encyclopedias. Finding the “Reference” section, you survey all your options. Dictionaries and an encyclopedia set are a must, but you also consider the selections of atlases and then the thesaurus collection. The school could really use those resources, and your wagon is large enough to accommodate a few last-minute additions.

Kneeling, you admire the different editions of encyclopedias. Some appear a little worn but otherwise fine. Even though this place hasn’t had power or temperature control in five years, the place was sealed and untouched until you and Ben. It’s likely that everything inside is fine, and all you and Sam will need to do is a rebinding.

You’re completely absorbed, so focused on the tomes in front of you, that the whisper of your name has you spinning around and reaching for your gun.

Ben has his hands up in front of him in a placating gesture. A snarky remark sizzles on your tongue. Ben brings a finger to his mouth in a gesture of silence. Whatever you were going to say dissolves, leaving behind an acrid aftertaste.

Slowly, you swivel your head from side to side but see nothing.

Ben shifts closer, leans in, a glint of fear in his eyes.

“There are people outside,” he whispers.

That’s when you hear it. Distantly, you hear a car door slam, and a muffled shout. The marrow in your bones becomes ice. There are people. There shouldn’t be people.

You swallow, mouth becoming dry. “How many?”

Ben shrugs. “Not sure. But there’s two groups.”

“Two—” You shake your head slightly as that’ll clear your racing thoughts. “What do you mean two groups?”

Ben’s mouth turns downward. It’s an I’m sorry but even that is loaded.

We’re not getting out of this.

There’s a distant hoot of laughter, and then the breaking of glass as if someone’s thrown a beer bottle. It’s still far enough away that you cling to that one comfort. But if they stick around, they might come sniffing. If that happens, you and Ben will be cornered.

Ben nods his head in the direction of the front of the library. Staying low, the two of creep toward the front of the building. There are two sets of double doors. The first set open up into the library and the secondary set of doors lead directly outside. Sandwiched between them is a small atrium. Above the doors are massive windows that bring in natural light.

Out front in the intersection are several beaten up trucks. From what you can see, it’s all men, at least a dozen or two in total. They look haggard. Mean.

“Is that them?” you ask softly.

Ben doesn’t look back at you as he answers. “Just the one. These guys came in loud.” Ben shifts slightly to glance over his shoulder at you. “Surprised you didn’t hear them.”

“Lost in my books.” Ben snorts, and returns his attention to the glass doors. “What about the second group?” you ask tentatively. “Our people?”

Ben eases back a bit. He sits down on the floor, checking over his rifle. “No. Not sure who they are.” He licks his lips, gaze focused on the gun. “They’re all in black. Militarized by the look of them. Organized.”

Two groups. Two different groups.

Ben removes the clip and checks the cartridge. “Only noticed them when one of these guys went around back.” He gestures toward the men directly outside the front doors. “Fucker came out of nowhere and knifed him. Dragged his body away too.”

“Who are they?”

Ben shrugs and rummages in his backpack for a new clip. “No fucking idea. The ones out front might be marauders or slavers or—”

He pauses, gaze growing distant.

“Or what, Ben?” you prompt.

He doesn’t answer, only readies the rifle. “All I know is we need to go.”

All this work, all this effort, suddenly gone.

Your shoulders sag as the reality of the situation sets in. “I have to leave the books. Don’t I?”

“Afraid so,” replies Ben. But he smiles, and though he’s trying, you see the strain. “Next time I’ll make sure to bring you and Sam some books.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he affirms. “Let’s go.”

At the back door, you withdraw your Glock, posting up beside Ben. He cracks it open. Pauses. Opens it a little wider. He carefully sticks a small hand mirror out the opening. He turns it left then right then back again.

“Clear” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He exits slowly, and then gestures with his hand. You step outside, squinting slightly as your eyes adjust to the light. Ben starts to cross the parking lot, heading for the exit furthest from the intersection.

The voices of the men are louder out here. A tiny bubble of panic blooms. Then simmers. Then boils.

There is no one around. No one. And yet—

A loud crack splits the air. The wall next to Ben explodes, tiny fragments of debris bursting outward. Ben stumbles backward. He grabs for you. And tugs.

You’re yanked to the side, and then spun around.

Time seems to slow, and yet everything occurs so quickly you don’t entirely comprehend what’s happened until Ben shoves the two of you behind a nearby dumpster.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe. “Ben. We—”

Horror floods your lungs.

Blood.

Everything. Dripping from tiny holes in Ben’s body.

“Oh my god. Ben.”

You reach for him, but there are so many impact points. Too many.

“Go,” he gasps. “Go.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

As the words leave your mouth, a barrage of bullets bite into the wall directly over your head.

“Here,” he rasps, handing you the keys to the Jeep. “Leave me and fucking run. I’ll distract them.”

Shouting breaks out nearby followed by what seems like a never-ending deluge of gunfire.

Your eyes burn. “You promised me books.”

He smiles, and there’s more red than white. “You know I always deliver on my promises.”

With a groan that’s more a cry of pain, Ben stands and reloads with a new clip.

“Go,” he whispers just as he steps out from around the dumpster, gun firing.

You turn. Take off. Gunfire follows.

It comes from everywhere, but you don’t falter, don’t pause to check your surroundings. You’re not a raging bull or an agile cheetah. You are pure frenzy, pure panic, like a rabbit running from fox teeth.

“Fucking grab her!” someone yells. “Grab her!”

You don’t know if it’s the marauders or the men all in black, but there is little reason to consider who.

Survival is paramount. Survival is eternal.

In a world like this, survival is lifeblood.

It is everything.

With lungs burning and muscles screaming, you aim for the houses, knowing you can lose them if you scuttle through the overgrown backyards.

The blow comes out of nowhere.

You witness a brief taste of freedom.

And then it’s yanked right from under you.

A body barrels into you, knocking you sideways. The ground comes up fast. You throw up your arms to protect your head and face. It cushions but protects little else. You hit hard.

“Come here,” growls a male voice. Hands are on you. Grabbing. Twisting. “Let me get a good look at you.”

You kick out. Throw your fists in all directions.

“Stop your fussing.”

A quick blow to the face and you’re circling, everything becoming temporarily blurry as the person atop you brings your vision skyward.

 “Look at you,” he laughs.

It’s one of the marauders. He smiles down at you, teeth brown and grey from decay.

“Pretty thing. Gonna look cute choking on my—”

His nefarious smile drops as the rest of him stiffens. You freeze, staring up in shock as you try to figure out what’s happened. It’s a slow unfolding. A trickle. Blood begins to pool in his mouth and then it drip drip drips onto your face.

With a soft cry, you wiggle out from under him as he tips over, falling into the grass. Scrambling backward, you start to push up onto your knees, muscles poised to keep moving.

“Don’t move.” A gun barrel presses into the back of your head. It’s still warm. “Get up.”

A pair of black boots come into view. Your gaze slowly ascends. Black boots give way to black pants to a black bullet proof vest to a black balaclava. The only part of him you can see are his eyes.

Someone grabs the back of your neck. It’s a harsh hold, and you’re yanked to your feet. You twist your neck and find another man, this one almost identical to the one in front of you. This is the other group Ben spotted, the ones tracking the marauders.

The one holding your neck squeezes and the other reaches for you. “Fucking move and I’ll shoot you.”

You remain perfectly still—perfectly silent as he pats you down. The knife in your boot is confiscated along with your Glock. When they snatch the Jeep keys, you instinctually reach to take them back.

“Told you not to fucking move.”

The man slaps your hand down and you feel the muzzle return to your head.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

He stares you down for a long moment. It gives you an opportunity to observe him, and his companion. They both wear identical all-black tactical even down to the patches attached to their biceps. The bottom one you recognize. Both American flags. The one above it is eerily similar but you can’t entirely place it. It’s an azimuthal projection of the earth but a top view from the North Pole. Beneath it are two olive branches.

The stranger’s gaze shifts to just above you. He jerks his head, and then you’re shoved forward without warning. With each of them holding an arm, you’re half-dragged back to the intersection the marauders were at.

While their rusty trucks are still there, they aren’t alone. Four armored trucks are parked in a semi-circle around the marauders’ cars. More men in all-black tactical gear prowl the area. Of the first group to arrive, those that aren’t dead have been zip tied and lined up in a row on their stomachs, faces pressed into the asphalt.

When one of them moves, they’re kicked until they fall back into compliance.

“Found this one out by the houses,” says the man holding onto your left arm.

Soldiers. They have to be. This isn’t some ragtag group. They wear uniforms, all of which are perfectly maintained. Even the armored trucks are in decent condition.

A small trio of them standing nearby turn.

The centermost soldier speaks. “A woman?” His surprise is clear. And like the two men who hold you, this man too has an American flag.

He nods toward the group of facedown marauders. “These fuckers don’t let their breeders out of their sight.”

Breeders.

You almost snarl, bite back with an insult. But you keep your mouth shut. Their intentions are unclear, and you’re without a weapon. Entirely powerless.

Survival. Always survival.

He takes a few steps forward, approaching you, gaze assessing. Behind the balaclava, he gives you a once over. “Looks healthy,” he observers. Without warning, he grabs your face. You jerk back, and he clucks his tongue. “Stop moving.”

Turning your face to the left and then to the right, the middle of his brow creases. “Open your mouth.”

You glower, and don’t comply.

He grabs your nose, shutting off your air. You gasp, mouth opening.

“Has all her teeth,” he announces, dropping his hand. “Can’t be one of theirs.”

“We need to show the Lieutenant,” says the soldier to your right.

The man before you stares, and keeps staring. “Do we?”

You don’t like the implication.

“What’s this?”

A deep, masculine voice cuts through the air. It is accented. British. Every head turns, and the soldiers straighten, shoulders back and heads held high.

The man holding your left arm speaks up. “Found her running toward the houses, Lieutenant.”

All the soldiers wear plain black balaclavas. Simple. Straightforward. But the man who steps into view has a skull face stitched into his. A fucking skull.

Instead of an American flag, it’s a Union Jack.

His brown eyes behind the mask narrow. “They don’t bring their women out.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Are their numbers that low?”

“With how we’ve been picking them off I wouldn’t be surprised.”

They bicker back and forth, arguing about you but not actually talking to you.

“I’m not with them,” you say, and they all go silent.

Skull Face glowers. “You’re not?”

“I was running from them.” You glance between the soldiers who shot the man. “They’ll tell you. They’re the ones that shot him.”

Skull Face appears unmoved. “Doesn’t mean you’re not with them.”

You laugh, and it sounds a bit hysterical. “Why would I be fucking running if I were with them? Wouldn’t I be shooting back at you?”

“No,” he replies flatly. “If you were with them, you’d be bloody running from them. Not shooting at us.”

“She has to be with them. There’s no one else here.” The man who speaks up this time is directly to Skull Face’s right. The accent is different. Scottish.

“I came with one other. Those men shot at us.”

Ben. Oh. Sweet Ben.

“And where are they?” asks Skull Face.

You swallow, knowing the truth. “Behind the library. Parking lot. Near the dumpster.”

Skull Face locks gazes with another solider and nods. Two men break off, heading in that direction. He returns his attention to you. “Who are these men?”

“What?” you ask, perplexed.

“These men.” He points to the facedown marauders. “Who are they?”

These men are strangers to you. “Slavers?” When no one confirms or denies, you guess again. “Cannibals?”

“She’s playing dumb,” mutters the Scots.

“Hush, Soap,” mutters Skull Face.  “Who are they? What name do they go by? It’s an easy question. Everyone knows it.”

You shake your head. “I—I don’t know.”

Lieutenant Skull Face leans in, lowering his voice. “If you don’t answer truthfully, you and I can have an extended chat in the back of one of these trucks.”

“She had these.” The Jeep keys are tossed, and he catches them without looking. “And this.” The Glock is presented.

Soap takes the Glock. He turns it over. “They don’t give their women weapons, Ghost.”

So, Skull Face is named Ghost. Fitting.

“No,” he agrees. “Makes it easier for them to fight back.”

The very idea sobers you.

“Who are they?” you ask, feeling safe enough to do so.

Ghost glances up from the car keys. “Your worst fucking nightmare.”

“Lieutenant!” The two men that left for the library return. Jogging forward, they speak in low voices.

Ben is not with them. Ben is—

Ghost nods and steps back. “We’re taking her with us.” The two men holding onto your arms let go and Ghost immediately grabs hold of your shoulder, pulling you forward.

“Pick three of these bastards at random,” he announces, gesturing toward the facedown men. “Put them in Delta truck. Shoot the rest.”

Ghost’s hand at your shoulder slides up, grasping the back of your neck. He leans in close—so close you can pick out the little flecks of gold in his brown irises.

“You’re riding with me.”

taglist:

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@unclearblur @kurochan3

[rozanallidawi]

Hello guys

I am Rozan Ayman Fathi, 24 years old

I ask you to read these lines and help me so that I can save my family

Consisting of 7 individuals

I live with my beloved family in the Gaza Strip, specifically in Gaza City. When the war began, we were displaced from our dear home and dearest to my heart to tents in the city of Rafah (we do not know whether it is still standing or whether it was demolished by bombings and shelling). We were always moving from one shelter to another seeking shelter. For protection, and when Rafah was invaded, we were displaced and moved again to tents in Mawasi Khan Yunis. We were very tired, especially my mother, as she is sick with diabetes and gallstones.

Life in a tent is torment, pain, and oppression, a life without the minimum necessities of life, where there is no bedding, no flooring, sand surrounds you from all sides, no sanitary facilities, no water, whether for bathing or cleaning, and no drinking water. There are no detergents. Canned food is scarce and of poor quality

We miss fresh food,

Very high temperatures inside and outside the tent

The spread of dangerous infectious diseases, insects, toxic organisms, and other difficult matters of life, in addition to the danger of bombing and death that lurks around us every minute..