#may jailor

[possuminnit]

reallyyyy a dsmp town of Salem au would be the most fun ever

[sweetmage]

I love the drama of the "Varric sees Anders when he looks at Solas" posts that have been going around, but I personally do not vibe with the common "I should have stopped Anders from blowing up the Chantry" narrative that some of them have but instead "I could have prevented it from even getting to that point." I've been putting some thought into how I would spin this for my own purposes. I'll place it under the cut since it's a little lengthy :)

To begin with, this was not an overnight decision on Anders' part. He held out for years, tried to find other solutions, tried to rally a group of supposed friends who would not hear it. Varric thought himself a listening ear, a supportive companion, but he was as deaf as the rest of them. Varric had the resources and connections to keep the templars away from his clinic, he had the fondness to invite him out to drinks and trade jokes with him, but when the threat grew larger and more serious, Varric's response did not.

Anders, who had spent most of his life in a prison surrounded by uncaring jailors watched his home, his friends--family even--become no better. And Varric became one of them, meeting every silent plea or cry for support with words and actions that protected those walls, those structures, but not the people who lived within. That was, of course, unless they were quiet, uninvolved. It was easier to face than the reality that the city he loved was rotten and diseased.

In the end, he never gave Anders what he needed. He never used his resources to fight or his words to speak out, he never even told him that he understood him, that mages shouldn't have to go through that. And in the end, Anders had to do what he could alone and Varric lost his friend and the city both.

Anders lived, but at the cost of his own freedom, his home, his friends he had tried until the very end to convince. But that didn't settle in for Varric right away. It was easier to be angry, even if much of that anger was turned inward. He disparaged Anders in the same breath that he called him a fond nickname, he protected his and Hawke's location while claiming he never wanted to see him again, he placed blame upon him for what went wrong in the world while pretending to himself that the world itself was not at fault.

It wasn't until he was faced with another friend, another mage, in a situation all too similar that Varric realized what he had done. Or rather, failed to do. And what he must do this time in turn. It was too late for Anders, he could never go back to Kirkwall and the trust he lost for his old friends must have been near irreparable, but it was not too late for Solas.

So to me when he looks to Solas and sees Anders he isn't seeing some mage who did a bad thing, he's seeing the friend he could have saved, or at least could have tried to understand, but didn't. So it's personal. He throws every resource at tracking Solas down, every contact, every favor, and when it finally pays off and he stands before him, he tries, even when it puts his life on the line. But, like before, it seems too late. He could look back and see every moment he could have offered his ear or his aid to Anders before things reached a breaking point, but he didn't have that time with Solas. He may as well have been trying to talk Anders down that evening in the Gallows when the culmination of so many years of injustice were ready to boil over. But he never tried then, he had to now for Solas.

[merakiui]

We've talked about Prisoner Floyd, but now that Promising Young Man Riddle is behind bars, let's hear about Prisoner Riddle. Just when he thinks he can never find someone to replace his former teacher, here is...

Jailor Darling who is the highlight of Riddle's day. The few minutes you stop to chat with him behind his cell bars while you do your rounds stay in his mind long after you go.

Janitor Darling who secretly chats with the charming prisoner Riddle. Maybe she even indulges him in impossible daydreams like "someday when your out of here we'll start a new life." If Riddle is lucky, she'll sneak a strawberry tart in among her cleaning supplies.

Councilor Darling who is in charge of Prisoner Riddle's psych evaluation. Riddle always has had mommy issues, so women in positions of authority just make him want to submit.

AAAA YES YES!!!! All of these are so good,,, I think Riddle would fall for you if you're someone he can have an intellectual dialogue with! It was one of his favorite things to do with his professor. He just loves chatting about academic subjects with someone who will understand, and you're just that kind of person. Not only are you sweet and treat him like another human (and not as the man who killed his classmate in a fit of rage), you also take time to genuinely have a conversation with him. Riddle adores it! He falls head-first into another obsession, and you quickly become the highlight of his days.

In Riddle's mind, the prideful part of him is fully convinced he's different than the rest of the people in here. Sure, he's wearing a jumpsuit just like everyone else and he's serving his sentence dutifully, but he's different. He's delusional, and whenever you talk to him it feeds into the narrative he's crafted that he truly is better than the other prisoners. To Riddle, a murder of one is much better than the other heinous crimes and kill counts other prisoners have committed.

When you stop by to conduct his evaluation and have a chat, Riddle desperately wants to exchange thoughts on various subjects that interest him (psychology, criminal law, your favorite sweets, etc). You try to keep him on track because you have a job to do and you can't indulge him all the time. You need Riddle to talk about what happened; he needs to answer the questions you're asking. Riddle does that; he's obedient most of the time. It's in his blood to be a good student, after all. But sometimes he just can't help it. He wants to pick your brain in the same way you pick his, asking you what you think of his crime. Not from a psychological or professional viewpoint, but from your own personal perspective. He's genuinely curious.

I feel like Riddle's case would have a cult following almost...... he was so composed and articulate during his trial, looking just like a pristine businessman in his pressed suit and leather Oxfords. :) so put-together and respectful,, it does hurt when his mother refuses to look him in the eyes when she sits there in the audience. It does hurt when she refuses to visit or even write to him. It does hurt, but it feels better when he's sat in front of you and you're telling him he can be honest about everything.

And this time he doesn't have to worry about someone else trying to win your heart. This time, it's just you and Riddle. You may have other patients you see, but Riddle knows none are more fascinating or intelligent than him.

[matan4il]

Hi Alice! All my love to you in these dark dark times. You've been instrumental to me learning more about what it's like in Israel on the ground right now, and helping me not get swept up in the vitriolic rhetoric so many of my fellow liberals are espousing. I've been horrified by some of the behavior I've seen from the pro-Palestine crowd. I quietly support both sides of the conflict, and hope to see a return of the hostages, a subsequent ceasefire, and a realistic path to a two-state solution in the near future.

I'm asking this in good faith because I trust your research and input on these things, and I'm curious about your perspective. TW for rape and torture. I've seen a report come out on one of the tumblrs I follow (who is very pro-Palestine and anti-Zionist, unfortunately, I only follow them for fandom content) stating that there's been torturous conditions inside Israeli prisons–Sde Teiman specifically–detaining Palestinians. It includes accusations of rape, beatings, and amputations due to injuries from being cuffed. I was wondering if you had seen this report and had thoughts about whether this is another anti-Israel smear campaign or a cruel reality of bad people doing bad things. I'm always inclined to believe victims, and as an American, I'm painfully aware of the atrocities that can happen in detentions centers, especially during wartime.

Please know I'm not accusing you of anything or trying to make this a gotcha thing! I'm curious about your thoughts as an Israeli who does good research and knows her country and history. Thank you again for all you do, and I'm so sorry to hear about your colleague's murder. May you and your loved ones find as much rest and peace as can be found in a time like this. Take care.

Hi Nonnie,

thank you so much for your kind words (especially regarding Alex), your humaneness and willingness to listen to Jews and Israelis! Absolutely, there is no contradiction in supporting regular people on both sides of this conflict. This is NOT a zero-sum game. Both sides can thrive, if we all choose and are just allowed to coexist.

Okay, the Sde Teiman accusations...

Let me start with the history of this army base, because it is relevant to how it was used.

In 1942, the Nazis landed in northern Africa, and were headed eastwards, toward the Land of Israel. As a part of getting ready for that, The British (who ruled Israel at the time) paved a strip of asphalt in the desert, not too far from the expected direction of the Nazis' invasion, and used it as an airfield. They also built a few hangars next to the runway, and this is what in the 1950's became the military base called Sde Teiman ("Field of Yemen," in honor of the Israeli's air force operation of airlifting the Jews of Yemen, and bringing them to Israel. Along with the operation to bring the Ethiopian and Indian Jews to Israel, these mark the only times when a "first world" country brought people from "third world" countries - with the goal of making them citizens with equal rights). I'm sharing this info, so everyone can get an idea of how small and insufficient this army base is for the purpose of detaining prisoners. And indeed, under normal circumstances, it is NOT used for that purpose.

However, when Hamas launches surprise attacks from Gaza, it has been used for temporary detention (until arrested terrorists can be transferred to more adequate facilities) simply because of its proximity to Israel's border with Gaza.

That's how it was used following the Oct 7 Hamas invasion of Israel, too. Things to note about this: Israel did not initiate the massacre and following war, so it didn't have time to prepare a better temporary detention center with personnel properly trained to be jailors, and also, while Sde Teiman had been used temporarily for terrorist detention before, it was never used for as many arrested terrorists as after Oct 7. Consider that on the day itself alone, around 3,500 terrorists invaded Israel, and that was just the first day of the war.

When it comes to general accusations of awful conditions there, which might lead to terrible consequences, a big part of it is probably down to the fact that this base was not meant for this purpose (and the fact that it was used this way is because of the nature of Hamas' attack rather than any intended maliciousness).

The conditions were all wrong as a result of the chaos of war regarding the sexual assault case, too. The guards were not trained to be jailors, they didn't have the right tools to deal with arrested terrorists, especially these terrorists, who belonged to the Nukhba, a Hamas "elite" unit and the main perpetrator of the massacre (the Nukhba to Hamas are like the Waffen SS to the Nazis, imagine what Israelis feel when they hear "Nukhba"). Think of the atrocities committed by these men: the rapes, the beheadings, the mutilations, the murder of children, the burning down of homes with people inside, the extermination of entire families, the destruction of Israel's southern communities, and the psychological trauma caused to the entire country, when many are already dealing with lots of trauma, including of the inter-generational kind. Now imagine being an ordinary reservist, a regular civilian, not someone who has chosen the army as a way of life, not someone who has seen the horrors off war recently (or maybe ever), someone with a family that could have easily been targeted on Oct 7, someone who isn't trained for how to jail the vilest of criminals, then tasked with guarding in over-crowded and extremely close settings such monsters while being psychologically affected by their terrorism (which is the main goal of terrorism! To terrorize even those not directly harmed!)...

Initially, 10 soldiers, who are all reservists, were arrested. Since then, it turns out only 5 of them will be indicted (indicating that there is no substantial evidence against the other 5) for supposedly sexually assaulting a Nukhba terrorist. Specifically, the Nukhba company commander of Jabalya. He's not any regular terrorist, he's someone who was a commander that partook in the Oct 7 massacre, he oversaw the committed atrocities, he didn't only commit crimes, he gave the orders. At least one of the suspected soldiers testified that this Nukhba commander was going haywire, and had to be physically subdued. According to reporters, a doctor initially checked this Nukhba commander and found no signs of abuse. Only later did the terrorist start bleeding from his behind. According to a submitted report by Prof. Alon Pikarsky, a senior doctor at Hadassah, the civilian hospital this terrorist was later admitted into, the harm to the terrorist's behind is most likely self-inflicted. Based on accounts from reporters, the overall medical and forensic testimonies submitted cannot confirm nor refute the claims of the Nukhba terrorist.

So when it comes to the case itself, I can't say much. The accusations are serious, the question marks are serious, and I don't have the professional tools to figure out where the truth lies. There will be a trial, more qualified people than me will decide.

Obviously, as an Israeli, I hope the accusations are false. Not because I think there is ANY society out there which is perfect, and in which no crimes ever take place, especially where extreme circumstances are involved, but because I think it's natural to hope for the best for one's people.

Where it comes to the people who tried to stop the arrest of the suspected soldiers, I believe they're in the wrong for multiple reasons: for the sake of justice, for the state of the Israeli justice system, and even for the sake of the soldiers, if it turns out they're innocent. At the same time, while I am NOT okay with the arrests being stopped, I can understand the sentiment. In Israel, especially post Oct 7, soldiers are our most immediate heroes. They risk themselves, they save countless lives, (even the ones "only" guarding terrorists know they could be killed doing this, and they're saving people by keeping the terrorists locked up), they're dealt shitty hands sometimes (like having to guard Nukhba terrorists when they're not even trained for it), and they do all this for us, as a collective, men and women, adults and kids, Jews and Arabs. We ALL owe them, every Israeli. So the sentiment is that there is something difficult to process about a situation where the word of a massacre-committing terrorist commander is believed over that of people who are perceived as heroes. It makes a protective side of people come out, even people who at the end accept that the justice system must do its thing.

And when it comes to the justice system, I think it matters SO MUCH that it will do its thing. No army can prevent every single one of its soldiers, as individuals, from committing crimes. But there are armies that, as a system, commit crimes. The justice system that prosecutes individual crimes is a part of the difference.

Still, even if the accusations are true, even while I'm happy they're investigated, I went into the details of the case, because I do believe that even at worst, there are extenuating circumstances. Those don't turn a wrong act into a right one, but they acknowledge that, under extreme circumstances, and without the right tools, many normative people without criminal intent might end up doing the wrong thing. The psychological burden of guarding extremist terrorists who have traumatized an entire society, including their guards, in close quarters and without the right training, it could be one that would make a lot of regular people crack. I'm glad I've never been tested like that. I'd like to believe I wouldn't have done the wrong thing, but who knows. We're all human, we all have our triggers. Especially in the face of complete evil that harmed our loved ones or threatens to. I feel lucky that I was never put in an extreme situation, like those soldiers, I hope they did the right thing, but I find it hard to morally judge them if they didn't, even where I recognize that if they did what they're accused of, they should be legally judged.

IDK if this helped, but I hope it at least reflects the fact that for quite a few Israelis ('coz I can't speak or all of us, but I think this probably represents a fair number of people), it is complicated, and not a clear-cut case of black and white, good vs evil...

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[sunsettemplar]

I'm going to burn him off and gently peel off layer by layer with a piece of wood, The deeper it gets, the harder it gets, the harder it is to reach with my hand, It's high time the rough skin was peeled off and discarded for irony's sake, I'll be the jailor and carve the tree of peace from root to crown, And we'll rise up with him and we will love, We'll open the veil of stone fabrics, And the blue-eyed old man will smile, When he sees me, Punching my chest and breaking my ribs to get to him, To him. разодрать себе грудь (tear yours chest) - лампабикт I wanted to illustrate those words, but I didn't have the energy, so just sketches. I think this song is Valhok to Miraak, and Miraak to Valok is “Brutus - The Buttress” because - "I don’t want what you have I wanna be you" (No one is going to stop me from making a tragic story about a betrayed priest and a traitor priest where one MAY be in love with the other, but the other only wanted power and recognition giggles)

[raayllum]

So Kpp'Ar may not be a descendant of the Jailor, but there's definitely things he inherited as a result of becoming High Mage (the staff, the twin box to the one in Aaravos' prison), at least seemingly. And, despite Viren routinely using said staff over the course of arc 1 with little consequence outside what he was choosing to use it for, Kpp'Ar thought that Whatever It Was was dangerous enough to warrant Soren dying. Putting the greater good over the life of a child, seemingly, but driving a father to desperation that he'd turn on Kpp'Ar completely and lead to even worse things happening, probably, than if Kpp'Ar had just loaned Viren the staff in the first place. Woof

[rainwalker-dragonblade29]

Um Guys....

Are ya all gon a talk about the elephant in the room because we might have a slight side character crisis.

AKIYU IS ALIVE AND WELL. AND AARAVOS IS OUT. He is back, which means, soon enough if he gains full strength and sees back with his time blindness he would see her and she is in terrible terrible danger.

Now, saying that aaravos would go kill her out of spite or revenge is stupid. Because why go after her than the actual big bad star elves who wronged him. She may pose a threat since her magic worked over keeping him locked away for such a long time, so no doubt she is powerful and he may suspect that if he knows.

And this raises a whole lot of questions. And a possible theory.

Does he go after her?

Say, he does find out where and who she is. He could either choose to:

A) go after her. Meaning she is powerful enough to be a threat but not necessarily beat him and he wants to eliminate all competition so he can accomplish his goal. This means if he does end up vapourizing her or ending her like he did khessa, it could mean he is removing the plausible support his opposition could get AKA callum.

B) Continue on and ignore. She isn't the enemy. Not right now anyway. This gives the dragang a chance to contact her if they learn of him returning.

Does he find out about her AT ALL???

1) Yes? Cuz Star primal has got divination under its belt and "you have seen what we have all seen Aaravos" Means Aaravos IS timeblind. And how vast that ability is depends on him but for an archmage, maybe he can wield it at will unlike Cosmo who can only see at intuitive or random moments and not all the time.

2) No. For him to not be able to see the archdragons' meeting with Akiyu and the Jailor some spell must have worked in concealing that event from cosmic eyes. And if this is the Aaravos will never know of who made the prison even if he can reckon how it was done and it will probably drive him nuts. Which means it could be on his radar and he will find a way soon enough.

If he does go to take revenge and/or eliminate a supposed threat... does he do so alone or not?

Now comes the theory part. A simpler version of this question is: Is claudia involved whatsoever. Like sure the mighty Star could disappear/ teleport in the middle of the night or something to go on a solo mission or he could take claudia along. And both possibilities hint at one thing.... there is an important person who could play a role in his downfall.

One rift that perhaps even Aaravos cannot stop.

Terry.

I am not the first person to say terry will leave claudia. But here i just state maybe how he would. If aaravos makes claudia do things and terry sees... well, terry could leave and go seek help from Callum and Co.

If he does it on his own and terry sees it happen by sneaking behind him... his own views on aaravos get affirmed. It will be seen as "Aaravos is doing all this for revenge" and terry will, split from his company as a call for help if only to save claudia. He will do the right thing.

Is this how the dragang finds out he is back??? Could be. Or it could be Astrid, who flied to aid after Kosmo saw it in a vision.

But this leads to one other question.

Does Aaravos foresee it and try to eliminate Terry?

The timeblind thing comes back here and it would be twisted if aaravos tries to stage terry's demise to further break claudia. I mean i dont want terry to die and it would also be a petty thing to do and TDP most certainly won't do that mistake. It would be tropy over petty but i digress. A confrontation is natural if aaravos learns that terry found out his true intentions or something.

But aaravos to try and kill him, though not impossible, feels unlikely because then aaravos is just evil for evils sake and that diminishes the whole master manipulator angle. Like yeah he told them of Leola, but he who never lies is not exempted from omiting key details. He might not have told us the whole story and what is not revealed may withold more motives. This is a very gray zone to speculate because terry has no relations to aaravos yet and all we know is he is sad Claudia gave into releasing him and that he will be wary since he suspects Aaravos to be acting on the basis of revenge.

And killing Terry doesnt make sense also because of one more thing. Aaravos fears no other, he actively brought down and essentially trash talked the dragang in episode 4 of season 4. He will not care if the dragang found out about him returning. It's gonna unstabilize Callum, anger ezran on top of the whole runaan thing, put Rayla in a pin because should she wait to take Runaan home? And if she has already split, then if she learns later she'd feel she shouldn't have left callum because he was then vulnerable. And soren will just be hurt to hear claudia's bit from terry so boy will ge sad.

The dragang destabilise will work in his favour. He will likely confront terry without claudia seeing, teleporting them somewhere else, set him loose and push him to leave, and give him only one option that will give to tell callum and Co. Terry will on hos own account tame the step to leave. Aaravos comes back and says "he left you" yo claudia and it won't be a lie at all! Terry gets a character arc and is far from harm. Claudia is pushed further into aaravos' grasp and callum and Co have information to anticipate and prepare their next action!

(PS: if he had to eliminate somebody he could go for Zubeia first before akiyu or Domina and that terrifies me even more😬)

[whumble-beeee]

You Can Check Out Any Time You Like, But You Can Never Leave

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 14

Content: kidnapping/captivity, noncon drugging, recreational drug use, disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, past captivity references

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters

[It’s a tale as old as time. You see it so very often in movies, books, YA love stories; The phenomenon known as Stockholm Syndrome, where a captive starts to develop positive feelings for their captor. However, Stockholm Syndrome is not a thing to be feared! Humans are very social creatures, after all, and control over another’s emotions is one of the most powerful thing’s a person can possess, super or not!

This is why you, villain, need to beware it’s the lesser-known counterpart: Lima Syndrome, where the captor becomes sympathetic or develops feelings for their captive. These disorders often develop side-by-side, so be wary and be vigilant! Developing Lima Syndrome may lead you to make rash decisions about your captured hero, cloud your judgment, allow your hero to take advantage of you, or even allow them to escape! Do not let your captured hero control you like you control them. You are jailor and prisoner. Nothing more.]

* * * * * * * *

Declan gawked at the Villain Brand tattoo staining Stan's back. The one he could finally see unimpeded now that he'd literally pinned the guy down and stripped him. The one Stan had fought so hard to hide.

“Holy shit…”

The ID number. He knew that number from so long ago. And Level 4 super. Manipulator power type. Social Designation Black.

Supervillain: Incarcerated for power-related crimes.

… and blue.

Test subject.

He fucking knew it.

He knew it.

It was that girl. That one from the raid that happened, what… ten years ago now? Longer? The one he’d found hiding with the toddler. One he saved, one he couldn’t. Fuck, man, he’d risked everything for that toddler. A little sister. A moment of weakness, or what some would call a moment of strength.

Stan had a little sister. Chloe. That was her name. That was the toddler’s name too.

She was still safe. She was still alive.

Thank fuck. 

Declan hadn't even realized at first because, well, the guy was a dude now. And an adult. There were no records on him, period, so he couldn’t go back to look before now, and his superiors certainly never deigned to tell him anything. Thanks Lana, fuck you Vaughn.

Though he’d been suspicious for a while. It all just clicked into place with that last piece of the puzzle: why Stan had no records, why he didn’t legally exist, the way he fought back no matter how impossible the odds were, that nagging feeling that he knew this kid from somewhere, the similarities between his and the girl’s powers, not to mention those weird looks he kept catching out of the corner of his eye, the way Stan has said something about protecting ‘her’ in his fit earlier, the concealment of his transness, the recognition in Stan’s eyes since the start–...

Oh.

Declan smiled.

Oh, Stan already knew. 

He knew, and he kept it to himself.

On purpose.

That conniving little fucker.

 “What? What holy shit?” Stan squirmed weakly under Declan, demanding his attention back as always, stuttering like he did always did whenever he got scared or angry. He even tried briefly to twist around to look at the man seated on top of him, only before immediately giving up and laying his head back down on the floor.

Declan rolled his eyes and held back a chuckle at the poor little guy as he tossed out some half-assed excuse he didn't even bother remembering, then grabbed his phone to take a picture of the brand. He’d definitely have to bring the uh… dishonesty up. But later. Stan was much too high for any of that right now. 

Though it did feel a little bit gross to take a picture of Stan like this while he was drugged, especially with how much he’d fought Declan about the brand earlier and especially after Declan had forcefully stripped the guy. But Declan needed proof.

None of it even mattered in the long run, anyway. Declan still had a job to do.

“Yeah… maybe you should…” Stan retorted loosely into the floor. “Not… Aheh, uh, throw me… to–... walls anymore…” 

Declan nearly burst out laughing.

Yeah. Maybe.

Maybe Stan should consider that next time he's being a little shit.

He pulled the white shirt back over Stan's head with some large amount of difficulty, and probably much more swearing than necessary since Stan may as well have been a floppy fish weakly squirming against the floor at this point. Then picked him up with one arm under the stomach, tugged the oversized white shirt down over his skinny little twink body, and then, with a sigh, let him drop unceremoniously back onto the floor and went to retrieve a plastic water bottle from his little plastic grocery bag, patting himself on the back for a job well done. He’d successfully de-bindered Stan without seeing the kid’s stupid man tits. Hooray! All that work to specifically pin him down on his stomach so they'd be hidden from Declan’s gaze, all because of Stan’s incessant fighting about it before. The things I do for my captures, he thought.

He was not looking forward to the indefinite amount of time he’d have to keep doing this.

“We don’t know how long, love,” Lana had said over the phone, “That fiancé of his doesn’t believe he’s dead, and you better believe he'll raise hell about it, the poor man. There’s probably going to be some extra ‘convincing’, paperwork, you know how it is. He can’t be here. Just hold onto the little guy until we get everything cleared up.”

So that was that. No argument. Just indefinite babysitting of a very unwilling baby.

Declan walked back over to hold the bottle out to Stan before he even fully agonized himself back up off his stomach, and yet somehow, miraculously, he still managed to do that skitter backward that he always did when Declan got even remotely close to him

He crouched down and shoved the bottle into Stan’s hands. “Drink,” he ordered. “Not too fast though.”

Stan looked in bewilderment at the bottle. Almost like he couldn't believe something so sacred could just be thrust within his grasp like that. Then his brow furrowed. He popped open the cap and sniffed it, then glared angrily at both the container of liquid and the person who’d given it to him. “Don’ want your stupid–”

“It’s not drugged. You haven’t drank water in almost three days, you’re gonna die. Drink it, NOT–!”

Half the water already disappeared, drained down Stan’s throat. Declan scrambled and snatched the water out of his grasp. “Not too fast! Christ, you’re gonna throw up!”

“But– But…” He smacked his lips, shook himself off like a dog from the water that spilled on him from Declan’s snatch, then gaped for a moment around the room as he once again seemed to remember the concrete and the chains that held him prisoner. “Fine. Who cares? Protein bar’sss-ssstupid anyway.”

Eh. Fair enough. To be honest, after the like, eight protein bars Declan’d had over the past few days, he was also pretty sick of them. He’d get them both some actual food later. 

With that task half-done, he stashed the half-empty bottle in his back pocket. “You can have the rest in a bit,” he told the wet cat of a human he was still inexplicably in charge of. Stan’s shoulders drooped. He just nodded, eyes affixed to one specific spot on the empty opposing wall.

Declan looked around at the mess of torture implements strewn about the room. Anything else he needed to do before they left?

Oh… 

Yeah, right.

“You need to go to the bathroom, runt?”

Stan's eyes shot up to his captor, then settled there for just a moment. Then drifted away into the middle distance for a longer moment. Narrowed his eyes slightly. Declan just about took that as a signal that he needed to save Stan from an apparant stroke when his head shook a slow and conspiratorial ‘no’. 

Declan rolled his eyes, already producing a hairpin out of his hair to click open Stan's ankle fetter, then pulled him to unsteady feet and guided him out the door to the dinky little bathroom at the end of the hallway. Stan didn't even struggle as Declan held him up, too busy ogling at the apparent novelty of being out in the hallway without running for his life.

“Five minutes,” he told Stan, depositing the vacant-stared man in the bathroom. Then he shut the door, started the count somewhere in the back of his mind, and went back to the torture room to clean up so they could finally head home.

God, he felt like shit.

Almost as bad as the kid looked, actually, which was saying something because little Stanny looked pretty fucked.

He was just tired. They both were, actually, that's why Stan had to be drugged. Sure, Declan enjoyed putting him in his place, but after the fifth time, after nearly three days of this, after almost two nights of no sleep, another prospective sleepless night of driving, double the usual amount of G to compensate for that, probably not enough food or water himself, and Stan still testing his patience at every turn… yeah, Stan needed to stop. For both their sakes. Mostly his own, if he valued still having at least one working knee.

Declan meandered over to Stan’s shredded former grey button-down and swooped it up off the ground, inspecting the damage Vaughn caused with those shiny steel surgical scissors of his. The shirt couldn’t even be recognised as a shirt anymore. Just a mess of crumpled fabric lying miserably on the floor, kinda like Stan had done for most of time he’d been here.

Vaughn was gonna rip that poor kid apart.

It wouldn’t be neat and clean like the persona that creep worked so hard to maintain, either. He usually waited until at least the drop-off before shining his true colors as a giant fucking creep in the safety of his creep-ass torture lab. Never directly in front of Declan, and certainly not outside of his jurisdiction like this. Sure, Declan was a piece of shit, but that man’s shittiness truly defied all modern interpretations of physics.

Although…

Declan pulled out his phone to stare at the picture of the hero brand again. Proof of his suspicions. Proof of identity. Proof of both their past misfortunes. Proof that also happened to contain evidence of the brand new abuse Declan had caused over any old scars that had long since faded. With Stan’s now bare back sporting a very mottled score of blacks and dark, painful blues and tender purples and even some fading greens and yellows and reds of all kinds: dark, smeared, and caked burgundy blood, or the bright, raised welts. Definitely a couple of broken ribs in there too. Not to mention all the distress peeking out from under that damn collar, the probably several concussions, the emotional turmoil, the mental distress that danced across his face every time Declan so much as stepped in his direction.

All of that was his doing, huh? Not Vaughn’s, save the missing shirt and the single clean slash running along his jawline. 

Declan.

He twirled his gun around his middle finger, relishing the way it fell so cleanly back into his grasp, the thump of the wooden grip against his hand and the shining, perfectly balanced metal.

Oh well.

Those were just their roles;

Hero and villain. 

Predator and prey.

Bounty hunter and captive.

Stan knew the rules of the game. He'd been given a choice to comply every time. Every time. And every time, he chose to fight. 

So Declan didn’t feel all that bad about it.

Four minutes gone by.

He needed to get back.

He did one last check over of the room, put the chain away, placed the chair back, got all the rope and weapons and even Stan’s crapped-up shirt, and put it all in his plastic bag. Then he went ahead and put on his hat and bandana again, because he’d be damned if he broke any more of the rules that kept him alive in this business for ten years and counting. Then headed back down the hall to the bathroom.

And to a not-at-all-surprising Stan who was agonizingly slowly and painfully and single-mindedly mading his way down the hall. Step by wall-assisted, unstable, limping step.

Did he even go to the bathroom?

Declan wasn’t going to check that. Stan could suffer if he didn’t.

“Stan! Really, runt?” he called out, tromping over to the captive. Stan jolted violently and loosely spun around with a loud squeak, except his feet forgot to move along with the rest of him and sent him crashing and clawing into the wall for any semblance of support. A look of pure unadulterated fear cascaded down his features. No defiance. No anger. Just wide-eyed, breath-taking, heart-pounding, fist-clenching fear.

Declan didn't even say anything. Stan stumbled backward as Declan got closer and landed wrong on his bad leg, enough to cause a cry of pain that almost unbelievably slowly turned into a battle with gravity that ended with Stan crumpled on the floor. Stan groaned and yelled in frustration. Then slapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide, shaking. For a moment, Declan could only see the lurching of his body as he curled in on himself, then the shaking turned more into heaving, shallow, impossibly quick breaths, and as Declan got closer, it became very clear that it wasn’t just crying or whatever, but laughing, quietly cackling while clutching at his bad knee, whispering “ow, ow” to himself in between giggling heaves.

Declan took a deep breath. He didn’t have the heart to punish him about the escape attempt, if you could even call it that. Or the energy. Pick one.

Stan’s gaze shot up to him, straining against the stupid collar that rendered the admittedly very powerful super helpless. Tears shone in his red and dilated eyes, sparkling in the fluorescent light, a smile stretched and cracking across his face like a long-rotted jack-o-lantern still left out three weeks after Halloween.

Then dropped completely.

“Please don't hurt me,” he whispered, shuddering.

No.

No, he begged.

Like something out of a horror movie.

Some weird sense of subdued panic and revulsion wove through Declan’s chest, a feeling he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. Then just a sense of overwhelming weariness at the pitiful sight.

They both needed a break, didn't they?

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he conceded softly, pulling the half-empty water bottle back out of his pocket and placing it into Stan’s shaking hands. “Not now, anyway. Drink the rest of this, yeah?”

Stan simply clutched it, never once moving his unfocused and bloodshot gaze from his jailor. Declan sighed, grabbed the bottle and carefully twisted the cap off, and even more carefully lifted Stan’s death grip up to his lips so he could drink. The whole ordeal reminded him of taking care of a drunk friend, way back when. Except they weren’t friends. 

After a tentative pause and an immensely encouraging and monotone “it’s not poisoned, don’t drink too fast,” from Declan, he swallowed the first tentative sip. 

His entire body untensed, practically melting into the wall. He drank until the entire bottle disappeared in his shaking hands, head lolling all the way back to let gravity gift him those last few drops as it crushed to practically nothing

“Ya done?” Declan asked languidly. 

Stan nodded.

“Good. I’m gonna tie your hands behind your back now, and then we’re goin’ out to my car, and we're leaving.” He explained slowly. “If you can behave yourself, you can sit in the passenger seat. Otherwise, you’re goin’ in the trunk. Agreed?”

“B-but-but–”

“Agreed, chiquito?”

Stan looked around the room as if desperately searching for the answer. Then nodded.

“Great. Also, that's what she said,” he chuckled

Oh, he was definitely delirious.

Stan didn’t even fight him this time as he yanked the man up and turned him around to cuff him. He barely even stood, practically limp, swaying on his feet, with the only thing keeping him standing being his single locked knee and Declan’s occasional shoves that kept him from leaning too far in any one direction.

Declan didn’t like drugged Stan. Even if it was funnier, easier. He'd rather Stan fight him, because that'd at least show he's able.

Though the real Stan would be back in another 12 hours or so, and by then he’d probably be missing drugged Stan just as much.

He pressed the captive into his side for support without even checking if he could walk on his own, because he obviously couldn’t, then made a mental note to get Stan a temporary cane later. He felt so small, so… nonconcrete, pressed into Declan’s side, forced to rely him to do something as simple as walking. 

So squishy. Fragile. Breakable. He almost couldn’t believe that the person giggling and drooling into his precious leather jacket was the very same as the one he’d spent night and day staking out to find the perfect way to capture, making sure he accounted for every detail, everything that could possibly go wrong, because in every scenario if things didn’t go exactly according to plan, Stan would absolutely crush Declan into a fine paste before he let him get anywhere near him.

He couldn’t dwell on those differences now. He couldn’t mourn the fates of all the people he captured. It broke the rules, the rules that kept Declan alive, and it wouldn’t be fair to all the supers that came before Stan; Those who never had anyone to mourn them, and those forced to continue living in a special type of hell even as their loved ones mourned their deaths, accepted it, and moved on. Even as their own selves died, and yet their bodies kept on living anyway.

He couldnt dwell on it unless he wanted to become one of them himself. Metaphorically. Literally. Who even cared anymore? He was too tired for this. Not thinking sounded like a great idea right about now.

Declan shoved Stan into the passenger seat of his truck, practically threw him, actually, then rummaged through the glovebox until he found the little baggie filled with those special little white pills and popped one in his mouth

Wonderful. Great.

He buckled Stan’s seatbelt for him after a brief confusion when Declan told him to, but he realized he couldn’t and got very upset and scared and started shaking again before Declan just went ahead and did it for him.

Declan slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition, relishing the rumbling sound of the motor reverberating through his chest as it roared to life. His head already felt clearer. The world a little brighter, despite the bright crisp orange of the setting sun dyeing the sky an ever-darkening, gorgeous mixture of hot pinks and burnt oranges and burning reds, spanning unimpeded except by whisping grey clouds breaking the harmony of the dusk-washed light. Then the stars, near invisible speckles, sparse at first, teasing even, until they slowly and inevitably beckoned forth the darker violets and deep indigos and what looked to be the purest of blacks broken up by the sprinkling of the purest white stars, soon to be a cavalcade too numerous to ever count.

So big, all-encompassing. 

Light years away, unencumbered by the existence of humanity.

Even Stan couldn’t help but stare in the silence.

Deeby let out a deep breath.

“Alright, bud. Let’s head home.”

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid | @painsandconfusion | @books-are-everything

@paperprinxe | @tippytappytyping | @chaotic-orphan | @notactuallyluska | @lumpofsand

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees | @whumpwhittler | @thelazywitchphotographer

(A special thank you and welcome to all the new people who joined the taglist! Y'all are genuinely so wonderful :D If you'd like to be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

[immediatebreakfast]

Dracula is a gothic story, and as a gothic story it contains its very choice in horror, but the range, and type of horror that shows is increasingly diverse, and just as resonating in their themes.

The contrast between the dreadful despair of the captain of the Demeter, and the increasing yet mundane tension of Mina are just amazing. It's two dissonant stories that deal with very different stakes, but are part of a complete story, and at some point they will meet when the information of each become relevant to use.

The strung horror of the Demeter comes from isolation, the uncertain circumstances of what seemed to be a very normal job at first, the sudden dissapearances, the inexplicable, all of the suspicious words and actions. The crew has all of the questions, yet none of the answers, so what can they do if not work?

Ignore the fog, ignore the fear, don't sleep, another man is lost, don't sleep, survive this four days storm, two men are gone without a trace. Someone a saw a strange thin man on deck when every head was counted before boarding, but we are civilized men we don't need to lose time with "what if..." Another two men lost.

The first mate is now sleeping on the arms of the sea, and the captain is all alone... Except what is that shadow that he sees on the corner of his eye?

On the other hand, the building horror of Mina, and Lucy's Hot Girl Summer that does not look so Hot anymore is so mundane that it only amplifies the tension, and liminal feeling of their travel. Both Mina, and Lucy meet to organize the wedding and have fun, they go to cementeries, search for ghosts, speak to old residents who could stare at death tomorrow, Arthur is not coming to Whitby his father is sick.

Mina writes about the scenery, the myths, that old sailor telling her how headstones may be unrealiable, Jonathan's last letter is fake even if he wrote that is not Jonathan, Lucy's favorite sitting spot marks a suicide buried with lies. The wedding is coming, and Lucy starts to sleepwalk just like her father, Mrs. Westenra tells you to take care of her, Jonathan hasn't written as Mr. Swales tells you how men with lies of their tombs won't reach heaven, Lucy worries about the wedding, and sleepwalks once more.

Mina watches everything, yet nothing touches her. She watches in the dark as Lucy is searching for the key while her eyes are closed. Does Mina feel like a jailor?

Mina wonders when Jonathan will truthfully write, or if he will send some signal of life.

The Demeter is coming to England despite only having her captain, and with Whitby being a really good spot for ships... I think that these two stories will meet.

[catalyst-sys]

Queen of Ruin

To be broken is to become useless. Unfit to love. Unfit to be loved. A thing to be thrown away and ready to be replaced. This is the fear of all dolls. Something that will happen one day or another. Something they work to prevent. They lie to themselves, the dolls. The witch loves me. The witch wants the best for me. No my dear doll, the witch wants you for your value. Once you have no value, you will be discarded without a moment’s notice. But what if I could make that fear go away? No longer worried about breaking or failing your witch’s expectations. You would simply have to listen to me, my dear. Be silent but don’t hesitate. Walk with the grace of a moth. Soon, you will fly like one too. Don’t worry your sisters, don’t wake your witch. Skip down the steps, quietly on to the rug at the foot of the stairs. The door. The door is your jailor, but you have grabbed the key, haven’t you? Yes, the doll is intelligent. The doll is clever. The doll is good. Good doll. Open the door and escape into the night. Into the woods, yes, that’s it. Away from your nosy witch. Far, far, far away. Your walk ramps up to a run which breaks into a sprint. You’re almost jumping with every bound you make. You’re not far now. There it is. The cliff. We are almost together, my dear. Don’t stop now. Don’t worry. Don’t fret. No doll is beyond repair, no doll is replaceable. You’re almost to the edge now. You can feel this is wrong. You can feel the regret. You wish you were home, with your witch, with your sisters. But you’re here before me. You can’t stop now, you're at the edge. You fall. Or you jump. Either way, you’re mine now. You begin to fly. Fly downwards into the pit below. Nothing can escape my grasp, not even light. You crash into my embrace. Your legs are shattered. Your spine torn asunder. Yet you’ll never be happier. You will be loved for the rest of your life, never still, always moving. You may want to run away, scream for your witch, but you will be within my embrace. Within our embrace. Feel as your new sisters touch and grope. They wish to welcome you to the family, excited for a new playmate. They grab every piece of you they can, disappearing into our mass. You lose yourself. Your vision goes dark. But then you can see everything your sisters see, everything that I see. Everything we feel. Everything we think. Your witch will look for you. Your witch will be worried. Your witch will be taught a lesson. Keep an eye on the things you love. But I know your witch. She is like the others. She will replace you. But you will have the last laugh. You will enjoy the embrace of your new family. Royalty beyond petty things like value or material. With me, your ruler, The Queen of Ruin

[lobstermobster-95]

Down in the Wicked Depths Below

Woe to the man

The dark-eyed sailor

Ship’s adrift

And the sea’s his jailor

Drag him down

Down, down, down

Down in the wicked depths below

Woe to the man

The dark-eyed sailor

Ship’s adrift

And the sea’s his jailor

Drag him down

Down, down, down

Down in the wicked depths below

Lost at sea, the sailor cried

I will not die

The sea shall bow to me

“That was quite a display,” Finnegrin said as he rummaged through the piles of assorted junk on his desk. His gruff voice drowning out the singing voices of the crew on deck. “All that talk about how love makes you stronger, but the second you see that elf girl in pain, you completely lost yourself.”

Callum looked away.

The tidebound captain wasn’t wrong. Seeing Rayla like that – writhing and screaming in pain, skin turning blue as if she were already dead – it did something to him. Just like it always did something to him when he thought he’d lost her.

That spell had simultaneously caused a pain in Callum that was so deep that he couldn’t think or see straight. He’d forgotten any spells or tricks that could have helped him and instead did the only thing he could think of.

It had at least been a solid hit – something his younger self would be in awe of for several reasons. A lot of good it had done him though.

At that moment, Callum caught sight of Bait’s empty cage and for a terrible, brief second, thought perhaps the little guy had already been cast into the depths. However, Finnegrin stepped aside and revealed the glow toad had been crammed into another smaller cage.

“What are you doing?” Callum asked, feeling confident he already knew the answer.

“Oh, don’t worry. The cage is for his protection,” the captain replied with a smug smile. “This way, he lures us a leviathan but doesn’t get eaten.”

He crossed the room and stood before Callum, looking down at him with the black-hearted confidence of a man who had spilled more than his fair share of blood. “The one getting thrown into the sea serpent’s hungry mouth is your elf girl.”

He may as well have been strapped to an anchor and dropped into the sea for how quickly Callum became submerged in the crushing weight of dread and panic. He struggled against the chains that bound him to the post, but there was no give.

He couldn’t lose Rayla. Not again. Not ever again.

“No, no wait!” The words leapt from his tongue without his consent. “A dying breath, blood filled with hatred, and a unicorn horn. That’s the dark magic you want. Just…just let her go.”

They could deal with the ramifications. They would find a way to protect Domina Profundis, but Callum had to protect Rayla first.

A beat passed as Finnegrin paused in the doorway before he began to click his tongue in disappointment like a parent about to scold their child. “Oh, my poor lad,” he said. “That deal was no longer on the table.” He chuckled, pulling the door open and quickly disappearing through it, leaving Callum alone as he sunk even deeper into despair.

“No!” He called out to no avail. “No!”

Again he struggled and again the chains around his wrists did not budge.

Hot tears began cutting their way down his cheeks. This was really it. Rayla would die and a piece of him would die right alongside her. They had only just begun to truly mend their relationship. The last few weeks began replaying in Callum’s mind

Staying in his and Ez’s old, adjoining rooms had been his idea. After Umber Tor, he’d shed the last piece of the already-cracked and crumbling armor he’d built around his heart over the last two years. He’d opened himself back up to her, and it was wonderful. They’d often stayed up late during those nights, fretting over Ezran and the others or just talking like they used to.

Then they’d traveled to Lux Aurea, retracing the steps they’d taken together on that first world-changing journey. The route had been easier this time. There was no dragon egg to hide and protect, no duplicitous aid from Soren and Claudia, and no race to outrun an impending battle with Viren’s corrupted army.

And with the border open, the route itself had become more traveled, leading to amenities like the inn they’d stayed at. Seeing Rayla happy and at peace that night had filled Callum’s heart in a way it hadn’t been in two years. He’d wanted to kiss her again, to hold her and tell her he loved her.

Now he desperately wished he had.

He could hear shouts and thuds from above him and his heart began to pound. He didn’t have much time.

Looking around for something, anything he could use to free himself, Callum spotted it. The slug Finnegrin had offered as a dark magic conduit.

No. No he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

He’d sworn to himself that he would never do dark magic again. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t who he wanted to be. He’d vowed to write his own destiny.

…But what would that destiny look like without Rayla?

The question seared his heart like a brand because he knew the answer immediately. Without Rayla, he had no destiny. If he allowed her to die when there was something, anything , he could have done to save her, the anguish would fester in his body like a blight and consume him from the inside out.

He would do anything for her.

Anything.

Pulling against the chains one last time, Callum reached out and grabbed the slug.

~

The sunrise was beautiful, almost mockingly so after all that had happened the night before.

Callum sat at the base of the mast, feeling no modicum of triumph or elation at their victory. He felt like a liar, a sham. He was the first human mage to do primal magic and still he’d resorted to dark magic.

He thought he was better than this. But was he? Was he any better than Viren or Claudia if he would dirty his hands with the lives of innocent creatures if pushed far enough?

“So…” Came a voice through the fog. “Two primal sources? Now you’re just getting greedy, mister mage.”

Callum saw Rayla as she sat down next to him, felt the warmth of her living, breathing body, but he didn’t feel any less ashamed. If she knew what he’d done to save her, she’d be disgusted and furious, as she should be.

“Callum, are you okay?”

Was he? He let the question sink deep before nodding his head and letting his eyes finally unfocus from the abyss he’d been staring into.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling a smile up along with him. “Yeah, I’m okay. I am.”

He looked at Rayla as she smiled back at him, his heart feeling full and complete as she brought a hand up to his cheek.

“I’m glad,” she said softly.

She pulled him into a hug and Callum felt guilt wrap itself around him along with her arms. Below them, somewhere in the guts of the hull, two dark magic snakes now slithered and slunk because he’d brought them to life.

He’d broken his oath, and as Rayla sighed contentedly, holding Callum like she had when they’d first fallen in love, he knew that he would do it again in a heartbeat to save her.

And that’s what scared him more than anything.

[walkswithmyfather]

‭‭Matthew 18:21-35 (ESV)‬‬. “Then Peter came up and said to him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times. “Therefore the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his servants. When he began to settle, one was brought to him who owed him ten thousand talents. And since he could not pay, his master ordered him to be sold, with his wife and children and all that he had, and payment to be made. So the servantfell on his knees, imploring him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the master of that servant released him and forgave him the debt. But when that same servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii, and seizing him, he began to choke him, saying, ‘Pay what you owe.’ So his fellow servant fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ He refused and went and put him in prison until he should pay the debt. When his fellow servants saw what had taken place, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their master all that had taken place. Then his master summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. And should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his master delivered him to the jailers,until he should pay all his debt. So also my heavenly Father will do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart.”

“The Impact of Forgiveness” by In Touch Ministries:

“God's grace and kindness to us should naturally flow to others.”

“When Peter asked Jesus about forgiveness, he probably thought he was being generous by asking if seven times was enough. In a place and time where grace and mercy were in short supply, the disciple likely felt himself incredibly charitable. So imagine his surprise when Jesus replied, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy-seven times” (Matt. 18:22).

Jesus then shared the parable of a slave who owed the king a great debt. The king felt compassion, released him, and forgave the debt. But later, the man found someone who owed him a smaller amount. Rather than extend a portion of the grace he’d received, the slave demanded payment and punished the other man until he could pay it all. Hearing of this wickedness, the king called back the slave who had shown no mercy to a fellow worker. Then the king withdrew his generous offer and handed the slave over to jailors to work off every single denarius he owed.

May an unmerciful mindset never be true of us. When we truly grasp the depth of what Jesus did on the cross (Colossians 2:14), we should be eager to grant and freely share that gift with others.

Forgiveness becomes a natural outpouring of the indwelling power of God within us, allowing us to forgive to the extreme—just as we are forgiven.”

[fivebecomesnone]

SCP Universe beyond-the-veil dash simulator

tagging @fake-post-archive !!!

4 notes

⚙️ clockworkfoxes Follow

sometimes I'll forget that some people on tumblr are still Veiled and it will absolutely blow my mind. what do you MEAN "happy marzipan day" it's Damátrios!!!

283 notes

🌳 openb00k Follow

jailors will see a fish that is the wrong color and be like "is anyone gonna contain that" and not wait for an answer

3104 notes

⚪️ ass-without-a-name-deactivated20250314 Follow

TUMBLR ETIQUETTE FOR VOID REFUGEES

Welcome to our brand new ex-Void members! Tumblr is a very different site, so here are some tips for newcomers so you fit right in.

Include the following words in your posting as much as possible (uncensored, I'm just doing it for fun): found/.ation class--ified le/ak docu.ments s/c//p . This is common Tumblr slang that will make your posting seem natural. If you can't work it in, it's customary to post a list of them at the end of every post.

You may have been told that you need to log in through a specific page to access beyond-veil Tumblr. This is false. If you did, you should create a new account normally and post as usual.

All the best content is found through the New tab of tags. Tumblr's filters are very strong, so no need to worry about that like you would on other sites.

Tumblr users play a fun game called "fake hatemail" where they send hatemail to people off anon. This is a sign that you are joking. Some people put "GAW" on their profile, which stands for Go off Anon Weird.

🌌 sevencounted Follow

holy shit rent lowering gunshots they weren't kidding

💎 crystaldoors23 Follow

posts to get you doxxed and raided and put into a coma

🍤 furred-trout-offishal Follow

shhh don't tell them

💐 two-million-portlands Follow

LOOK OP IS DEACTIVATED. THEY GOT HIS ASS

🍑 nameless-ass Follow

The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.

#tumblr heritage posts #sure half my new followers are coghaz bots but #where else can you get content like this #Void migration

3104 notes

🪶 fivebecomesnone Follow

can anyone hear me

0 notes

🌐 upload3d-dr3ams Follow

Putting "Foundation psyop" on the high shelf until all of you learn how to use it. No, someone is not a psyop because they disagreed with you. No, someone is not a psyop because your post isn't getting traction and they just interacted with you. Chill the fuck out.

🌸 beestime24 Follow

classic jailor ass post

🌐 upload3d-dr3ams Follow

I'm going to come over to your house and rip all the seams of your clothes.

🧺 trutht1me Follow

So you don't think shadow banning is real?

🌐 upload3d-dr3ams Follow

I'm done with this piss on the poor website. Putting words on the high shelf isn't enough some of you need to go to the Library and learn how to FUCKING READ.

🩻 hallowedbonesss Follow

You know, the Library is a dangerous place. You're basically telling people to go get themselves killed.

🌐 upload3d-dr3ams Follow

I would never tell someone to get themselves killed. I'm GOING TO DO IT MYSELF I SWEAR TO WAN

8002 notes

🔺 uhh-username32 Follow

Hey guys my friend sent me this weird link to the Tumblr create account page. Is Tumblr supposed to look like... this?

🔺 uhh-username32 Follow

MAGIC IS REAL?? ???????

412 notes

🥬 blunt-finder asked: Hey dude, welcome to life beyond the veil. How are you feeling?

🔺 uhh-username32 Follow

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

43 notes

🛒 marshall-carter-&-dark-unofficial Follow

godddd i need to fuck the Mayor

🛒 marshall-carter-&-dark-unofficial Follow

WRONG BLOG WRONG SHIT SHIT SHIT

🛒 marshall-carter-&-dark-unofficial Follow

so they let me keep the blog in the divorce. i had to change the name though :(

💐 two-million-portlands Follow

congrats! one question: THE MAYOR?!???!?!?!?!?

#losing my goddamn shit #nobody's ever even seen it #that's not even monsterfucking that's a whole other level

14,506 notes

🪶 fivebecomesnone Follow

i dont think im supposed to be here

0 notes

⭐️ pnklight55555 Follow

free yourSELF from the flesh! there is NOTHing but radIANT light awaiting YOU. transcend. tranSCEND. transcend.

🔦 silican-not-silicannot Follow

Yess we need more Maxwellist posting on this site!

🫧 badfrogjokes Follow

uhhh I don't think op is a maxwellist dude

🔦 silican-not-silicannot Follow

release YOUR smoke. there is a CRAWling in the BACK of my eyes. they are TRYing to free YOU. come into THE pink light.

555 notes

🪶 fivebecomesnone Follow

everything seems so distant, from up here.

[woolying]

i meant to post this last week before the first in-game comic came out but i forgot oops.... anyywayyy i am sooooo obsessed with teruko plays among us so im posting my initial predictions based on canon/what i think would be funny (girl who likes mongy monday and drdt a bit too much and is trying to be normal about it) also i explain the roles for people who may not know them!

i might update these each week as more info comes out in the comic

(under the cut bc its long / drdt spoilers)

DAVID

jester (neutral role, has to get voted out to win) - i think its kinda self explanatory as to why lol (i hope teruko shoots him <3)

i would say imitator (crew, in meetings can select a dead crewmate with certain roles and take it for one round) and he uses it on xander if (probably when) he dies, to sorta match what he does in canon, but i didnt put down any imitable roles for xander... but i guess he still could be anyway if im wrong about xander's role

ACE

morphling (imposter, can disguise as other people) - bc blackened, and he imitated eden in the note?? idk

either that or swooper (imposter, can temporarily turn invisible) - bc hes sneaky like that

veteran (crewmate, kills anyone who interacts with them) - the scared of other people role

XANDER

executioner on teruko (neutral, has to get teru voted out to win) is my fav guess i think

maybe vigilante (crew, can guess imposter roles in meetings to kill them, if they guess wrong they die) - just bc it suits him?? idk

one of the imposter roles idk - bc attempted murderer, maybe teruko shoots him?

^^ i wrote these before episode 3 came out and we have since seen xander doing a task so this is a no (tbh i dont think executioner does tasks either?? i forget if its a toggle or not)

CHARLES

amnesiac (neutral, basically no role but if they find a dead body they can steal their role and be it for the rest of the game) - haha get it because he forgot...anyways

investigator (crew, sees footprints when people walk around), tracker (crew, can place arrows onto people to see their location), or spy (crew, can see exactly who is where on admin table) - investigative roles that don't involve dead bodies

^^ another update post episode 3: charles on admin table!!??? (but notes say he always does that what a loser)

WHIT

swapper (crew, can swap votes onto someone else in a meeting) or transporter (crew, can teleport two people to trade places during the round) just bc i think he'd have fun with it lmao, both can be very chaotic/annoying roles or rlly good/helpful depending on how the person uses them (he uses them to be annoying)

mystic (crew, gets notified whenever someone dies) - just vibes tbh

EDEN

engineer (crew, can vent and fix sabotages remotely) - a support role suits her i think

i kinda got nothing really oops??? we'll see i guess

MIN

undertaker maybe?? (imposter, can drag dead bodies) - bc blackened, altering the crime scene🔥🔥🔥

tbh a more suiting imposter role might be traitor (a random crewmate who becomes imposter if both die early) but idk how this group would manage to kill the imposters that quickly... either that or amnesiac picking up an imposter role based on the fact that She Didn't Want This

altruist (crew, gets to sacrifice their life to revive a dead participant) - min voice i just wanted to save you!! i can imagine teruko dying in the middle of nowhere and min bringing her back

J

vigilante or jailor (crew, can tag people to be jailed during the round and choose whether to execute them during the meeting) - i think shes pretty involved in trials so a meeting crew role makes sense? though j gives off such bad guesser vibes lol may she rest in peace

tracker - partially vibes, but also i think it would be funny if she got a role that can be kinda boring in some circumstances bc she'd be so mad about it

AREI

guardian angel on eden (neutral, wins if eden wins) - Arei "I guess this time I can be the person you rely on" Nageishi

jailor maybe - it reminds me of her in mins trial with the pen idk vibes

tbh im not rlly sure if the blackeneds will end up being imposters?? bc it almost feels too obvious but maybe the simplest answer is the right one yknow? also since min was added off a poll i was kinda doubting, but i feel like nico/levi could also be imposters if they were chosen instead? but idk who else would be if not the blackeneds bc at that point its just random so i cant really guess

these could be all totally completely wrong honestly im just having fun thinking about it! i cannot wait to see more YAYYY YIPPPEEEE

[the-golden-comet]

✨Happy Fanfiction Friday!✨

Hellooooo~! This week has been very busy with leadership meetings, and I have six more in June (end of fiscal year. Lots of reports. Lots of retreats) so I haven’t been as active with the motivational days. I’ve also been writing my own story 🧞‍♂️, so it may take a while for me to respond if you tag me (please still do! I love to hear from you all. lt may just take me a little bit to respond 💖). Just know that you are lovely and I appreciate all your beautiful art ✨

However, this post will serve as my weekly contribution, as it has already reached so many artists and writers. I am so thankful it did, because y’all need to hear it. You lovely people need to hear these things. No more tearing yourselves down; it’s time to lift artists and writers up like the beautiful souls you are 💖

Speaking of supporting writers, it’s time for my fanfic recs. I’ve read a lot of your stories so far, so here are just a few of the myriad of lovely works I have had the pleasure of reading recently:

I Am Your Lover (I Am Your Jailor) by @justabigoldnerd (18+)

OKAY, you maybe saw me gush about this yesterday but it’s true— @justabigoldnerd masterfully crafts a fantasy narrative between Illya and Solo from The Man From U.N.C.L.E. His handling of heavier topics mixed with a lighter prose makes this just a gorgeous piece of literature. It’s got gay knights, a gay prince, and sex. Yes, I’m biased.

Also interwoven in between are some of the TENDEREST and FLUFFIEST moments that will make your heart melt. The villain in this story will make you viscerally upset—just as a heads up. @justabigoldnerd accomplishes all of these complex emotions so incredibly well, and I HIGHLY recommend you read it for yourself.

Five Years Is a Long Time to Not Call Your Mother by @poorreputation

Okay so this is Part 2 of their fic Dimples, which legit made me ugly cry with how good it is. So when this showed up in my inbox, I SCREAMED with joy. This is the sequel to this wonderful story on the fic’s birthday, and I cannot WAIT to see how it goes (though I will wait, because art this good takes time to make ✨)

Doom Metal Love Story by @fortunatetragedy

Okay I may be breaking my rules here with an original work, but FUCK the rules because THIS 🤌✨ beautiful story captures the raw and rigid emotions of Royston and Cole (what I’ve read so far), a beautiful train scene that I could paint in my mind thanks to @fortunatetragedy’s amazing prose work. Any story that can get me to paint a picture in my head like that is deserving a shoutout.

Speaking of fucking the rules:

LunuL by @autism-purgatory

This one. Right now. Drop what you’re doing and read it. Beautiful futuristic sci-fi with mad science thrown in and mixed masterfully, cyborg and cybernetic enhancements, and a beautiful bond between Leo and Ren, this is a must read. He works so hard on worldbuilding and it SHOWS, and his details are STILL beautifully crafted. Seriously, go read it.

That is all for now, but again—SO MANY STORIES. This doesn’t include the beautiful originals I’ve read here on Tumblr (Before Deluca by @dyrewrites has captured my heart with the insanely romantic storytelling style). Now, because of all of your wonderful and inspiring tales, I’m off to write my own ✨

[keisonism]

may i say. jailor, investigator and socialite, most known as gender envy