#tortured or raped

[shattered-pieces]

Actually I wouldn't be surprised if putin allowed the leaks of the torture that happens in russian prisons as an intimidation tactic

After all, no one in their right mind wants to be trapped in a place like that, especially where you could be raped at any time and no one would stop it, it is even part of the system

Part of the psychology of repression that you only have to make an example of a few in order for the rest to be intimidated, too paralyzed with fear to act.

[sayruq]

[heritageposts]

For context, since this is getting almost no mainstream coverage by Western media:

[cw rape & further warning: there are brief clips in the video below from the leaked Sde Teiman recording, but it doesn't show any of the sexual abuse. The full CCTV video, which I won't be sharing here, contains footage of a Palestinian prisoner being gang raped by Israeli soldiers.]

Testimony from a former prisoner of Sde Teiman:

“Most of the prisoners will come out with rectum injuries [caused by the sexual assault],” Salem, 36, told Middle East Eye.  The prisoners will tell each other it is haemorrhoids, he added, but most are just avoiding admitting they had been raped, sometimes by female soldiers. In the following eyewitness account, Salem recalls his ordeal, starting from his arrest at a hospital in Gaza until his release. 

[vita-min-ze]

I feel like the root problem of american tankies' shallow ideals is redirected american exceptionalism. Internet and globalization has caused them to realize that that they're not in fact the best country in the world as school etc has told them. But instead of understanding that they have problems just like the rest of us (though tbf, their ability to cause other nations harm is unmatched) they now flipped to saying that the us must be the worst country in the entire world and the source of all evil. They cannot comprehend that non-americans are perfectly capable of doing the most heinous shit and thus assume that behind every war or conflict lies a us conspiracy and influence - because surely non-americans are just so innocent, naive and primitive and unlike americans lack the cunning to advance their political goals without help by the US. The fact that not only the US government but also its enemies can be vile at the same time and that sometimes they can even be on the good side is completely beyond them which is why they are never truly against imperialism, genocide or opression unless it is done by americans or their allies.

[anassemblageofpassions]

No but. The denial of Sam’s rape across the fandom sure is something because it’s one of 3 specific tortures he’s canonically mentioned to have suffered through, alongside being burned alive and torn apart with meathooks. The latter two we have explicit flashbacks of, but the former is deliberately stated by Sam’s hallucination of Lucifer. “But it was a hallucination”, why would Sam be hallucinating about Lucifer reminiscing fondly on raping Sam in the cage. If he’d made some offhand quip about breaking Sam’s bones or something, I don’t think anyone would deny he did that to him. Also. Look at how sam reacts whenever he’s around Lucifer again. Look at the language lucifer constantly uses around him. We know that hallucifer is a mimicry of how lucifer acted in the cage and how he acts every post s5 appearance. we know he's a rapist. we see what he does to kelly. and we know how he treats consent.

So like. Why all the denial?

[memingursa]

[deadsetobsessions]

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.2

[Pt.1]

Peter’s no stranger to memories that comes as nightmares. There’s something different to them, the taste of terror that’s tinged with a feeling of “that’s happened.”

Flashes of Aunt May, dying as he stood next to her while choosing the city over her? Old hat. Inky darkness surrounding MJ falling as Peter reached for her, over and over again? Been there, seen that, didn’t even get a sick scar out of it. Racing against the clock to defeat some bad guy or an unknown threat? That’s his Thursday.

But this?

This isn’t his. It’s real, Peter could tell that much. Sure, it’s wrapped up in silk hisses and heart crushing terror, but Peter could always tell whether a nightmare was a nightmare or whether it was a memory.

This was a memory. Not his. His. It’s complicated.

“Your father, papito, he-,”

Then, it’d be the ruffle of his hair, brown eyes. It reminded him of his mom. But the crease of these eyes were different. Hardened, mean. Even towards him.

“Well, he said no, but I knew what he really wanted.”

The base of Peter’s neck always crawled when he remembered that line. His spider-sense warned him that whatever he’s remembering, he would not like.

“Ey, Peter.”

“Huh?” Peter blinked, looking up from where his arms were elbow deep in wires.

“Don’cha need gloves with that?” Frank asked, munching on some jerky. They were sitting in the living room, repairing a TV and a washer Frank had somehow managed to lug back to the apartment. It’s a toss up between Frank’s network of orphans (Peter included), street rats (these things are not mutually inclusive), or his own slightly higher than average strength. Not that they needed to thrift broken things, considering Peter’s funneling money from offshore bank accounts belonging to this America’s 1%. They just made it so easy! He and Ned had been hacking into government bases in middle school back on his world. This world? Not even a challenge. Regardless, this was kind of like… Frank’s version of those fancy sensory boxes for Peter.

“Oh, no. It’s not plugged in, see?”

“How’re ya gunna know it works then?”

“Plug it in after I’m done. Turn it off and on, you know?”

Frank stared at him, then rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“If you burn down that portion of the house, at least we’ll be warm for a bit.”

“Thanks. Your confidence in me is astounding.”

“You talk like an old man.”

“I do not! Excuse you! If I’m old, you’re the expired knock off cup ramen in the back of a convenience store!”

“Yo, shrimpy, that’s rude, ya hear?” Frank snickered, impressed at the quip. The Alley kid turned brother stood up to plop next to Peter.

“So… you gonna go…?” Frank made a whooshing sound and held his hand in a web shooter position.

“Tonight? Prolly. Anything I should look out for?”

“You’re gunna get yourself killed, but yeah, heard the gang’s back up north.”

Peter flashed a smile, dimples coming out. “I’ll try not to. Thanks, Frank.”

“Anytime, Spidey.”

Frank, though little (to Peter), was a good friend. Then again, considering Peter saved his ass both in mask and out of it, it’s to be expected. One would think that after eight years of hiding his identity, Peter would be better at it. Then, he got punted into a different world and got made by a child.

To be fair, the circumstances all but screamed Parker Luck, so Peter’s not counting this instance.

See, the first few days of this sudden cohabitation, Peter had asked Frank to find them furniture. Both because he was getting real sick of eating on the floor and because Peter needed to fix his suit to match his much younger body. Then, once he readjusted the shrinking nanotech and the spider legs to fit him in a way that wouldn’t break him, Peter had promptly swung out of the building and went patrolling. He stuck with the wandering Frank, taking out muggers and robbers and everything in between and past that around the area where Frank is.

Looking back, Peter realized how lucky he was when he decided to go on the “helping joyride” at the beginning of the evening. His spider-sense activated way later in the night, the moment where he began seeing and sensing the cameras that kept pointing towards him. He ducked and dodged out of the way, and eventually, the feeling left. Somebody was watching. And he doesn’t know where they stood on the moral side of things.

Anyways, it happened after three weeks and a half of going out and just… settling into life in Gotham. He had already been struggling to find a way home, scouring the libraries around Gotham on any subject that would aid in his multiversal travel. Peter would like to know which emo kid named this city.

Eventually, Parker Luck decided to strike once more.

“Get back, freak!” The lady brandished a wicked knife.

Talk about deja vu.

“Oh no! Knives! My greatest weakness!” Spider-Man yelled, sticking to the shadowed windows as he let his voice echo in the alley. Gotham had a lot of nice hiding places. Spider-man dropped down on her head like a bat out of hell and webbed the knife out of her hands. He webbed the mugger up onto the alleyway above normal reach, and told the man to call the police.

Frank screamed, just as Spider-man wrapped it up, loud enough to reach his enhanced hearing.

“Wait-!” The man tried to stop him, but Peter, small, trained, and having readjusted his reach, slipped away.

“What’s your name?!” The guy he saved yelled at his back.

Spider-man, distracted, yelled back, “SPIDEY!”

He shot webs upwards and used them to slingshot his way towards where Frank was. And… car! Peter used his webs to swing up, up, and let himself fall to gain momentum. At the last moment, Peter shot a web to the top of the car and pulled himself to it.

Shit, shit, shit. He’s stupidly attached to the kid, and he was stupid enough to let Frank go out into Gotham looking both well-fed and well clothed.

The world slowed as he locked eyes with a terrified Frank, who was getting dragged into a car.

The world narrowed to speed and Spider-Man landed on top of the car roof, sweeping his leg out and thankfully remembering his much shorter reach. His foot collided with the kidnapper’s face with the equivalent force of a grown up, slightly annoyed Peter Parker who’s letting his strength go a bit unchecked. Basically, they went flying, blood spewing out of the undoubtedly broken nose Spider-Man had just given them.

Standing on business, the shorter webster promptly flipped down wards as he all but glued the would-be kidnapper to the curb.

“You alright?”

“You’re- You’re that new mask.” Frank whispered, scuttling away from the car where he’d been dropped.

“Yeah, man. You okay?” His voice modulator came in clutch.

“Fuck. Fuck, I gotta-” Frank stumbled. The kid looked like he was one bad break away from snapping. Peter hated it when kids got that terrified look on their faces, it reminded him of himself, helpless as Ben bled out because they should never have to fear something that much.

Something’s wrong, though. As much as Peter wished otherwise, Frank was a Gotham bred and true alley kid, through and through. These kids don’t spook easily. Peter already stopped a couple of kidnappings and at least two of the kids had yelled at him to stay out of the way before unloading a rain of nut kicks on their kidnappers that left Peter wincing for days in sympathy. Frank being this spooked? Something’s going on.

“Woah, easy there, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

Frank shot him a half hysterical, half condescending look. Yeah, that’s more like it.

“Ob-obviously. I have to go before more of them comes,” Frank muttered.

“More of them? You know what they want?”

Frank stared at him, looking up and down at his blue, red, and gold ensemble.

“I can help,” Peter promised.

“What’re your thoughts on metas?”

Suspicious.

“Uh, they’re fine? Depends on the person, why?”

Frank sighed. The skinny teenager, barely 14, tugged at his hair. “They’re traffickers. Meta kids, mostly, so the Bats don’t do nothing. I- uh, I got caught.” He held up a thin wrist, showing Peter his new accessorie, a think metal bracelet that was beeping red.

Peter cursed in his head. Fuck, of course he’d stumble into a-

“Caught? You’re a meta?”

Frank nodded. “Strength. This is an inhibitor, illegal kind, you know?”

Well, that explained how he got all of those furniture without struggle.

“Right. Hey, don’t stress, kid, I’m a meta too.”

Frank blinked.

“What?”

Peter walked up the side of the car and did jazz hands.

“You’re a meta?! But- but you’re a mask operating in Gotham!”

“Yeah…? Is that weird?”

Before Frank could reply, Peter’s sense screamed and Spider-Man shoved Frank away from the spray of bullets.

“Move, Frank!”

Peter flipped away, vaguely aware of Frank’s gaping realization. He took down the shooters in quick succession, stopping the speeding car with his bare hands and some webs.

“Shooters, no shooting!” He yelled, liberally applying force he tended to keep under wraps. Frank was like a brother to him, and there is no universe where Peter Parker would hold back when his family was in danger.

When he got back to Frank, who had oddly stayed instead of running, Peter found out why the kid stayed.

“Peter?!” Frank hissed lowly, looking more pissed off than terrified. “Are you fucking insane?! Why are you running ‘round as a mask?!”

“Shhh!” Shit, he got made. “Come on, get back to the apartment and we can talk there. I’ll get rid of this-”

Peter casually snapped the bracelet in half, tearing the tracker out, and tucked it away to study later.

“Fuckin’- shit, fine, but you’re explaining everything, motherfucker!”

They split, Peter guessing correctly that he was in another lecture of a lifetime.

——

“Your vigilante name is Spiderman?”

“Hey, I can hear you say it without the hyphen! There’s a hyphen in there!”

“You’re not a man! You’re a twerp!”

“I’ll show you twerp, you-”

Five minutes of tussling later, in which Peter did not try to bite Frank’s arm off, thank you very much, Frank leaned back on the couch.

“Besides. People in the streets are calling you Spidey, anyways.”

“Spidey?”

“Some dude you saved from a mugging said you told him.”

Peter slammed his head on the floor where he was laying face down.

“Ughhhh.”

——

“He could have been great. I saw his potential.”

Anger. But he shouldn’t be afraid. The woman loved him.

“Hey, Peter. You’re up here again.”

“Hi.” Peter stayed curled up. His mind had refused him sleep for the last three nights, causing dark circles to appear underneath his eyes. The memories of what he assumed to be this world’s Peter was merging with his. What he’d seen so far did not fill him with confidence of a happy childhood. Flashes of wielding weapons, the sterile smell of a metal dissection table, and hundreds and hundreds of spiders crawling over him, getting startled into biting down. Plus, the stress of tracking down the meta trafficking circles in Gotham was no joke. He doesn’t know Gotham nearly as well as he knew New York, and he had to be extra careful running around and trying to catch every bit of the circle before making any moves. Frank was helping with his network of homeless Meta kids, but the traffickers were everywhere except for Crime Alley.

He should be dead. They sold his body to an organ harvester who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version.

“Everything all right?” Red Robin clambered down to sit next to him, cowl hiding the concerned scrunch of his brow. He’s never seen Peter like this.

Peter grumbled, staring down at another alleyway. He knows his alternate died. His shit excuse for another sold his body to an organ harvester, when he seized on the operating table, who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version. He does, however, have to worry about missing vital organs.

“I… remembered something.” Peter remembered a lot of things. And pretty much none of them were good. This Peter suffered a lot in his short life.

Red Robin nodded. The issue of Peter’s spotty memories had come up in their discussions over the past month.

“Ah. Something unpleasant?”

Peter thought back to the voice who, despite all of the other, highly traumatic memories, haunted his brain like nothing else.

“He didn’t live up to it. He refused to kill. So I made the decision for him.”

“Yeah. Not for me, but unpleasant that I know about it.”

“Yeah, I get that. You wanna talk about it?” Peter hid a small smile. Even though Red Robin kept his tone light, the concern still bled through. Warm. It made Peter feel warm. Even if it appeared that the Bats don’t really care about the trafficked meta kids… maybe Red Robin would come save normal kid Peter if he got kidnapped. A backup plan to consider. For now…

“Sure,” he said. Red Robin waited patiently.

“I think, I remember someone. Maybe, maybe my…” Peter grimaced. “My mom? She… told me something. And uh, I think I’maproductofrape.”

“Oh,” Red Robin said, so awkwardly that Peter had to crack a small smile despite the gravity of the topic. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. Not myself, but for…” Peter waved a hand. “You know.”

“Yeah.”

“She wasn’t a good person,” Peter whispered and hated how he missed the browns of her eyes- her middle name was Marie, and god, Peter wished he hadn’t known that because he gets why her eyes reminded him so much of his own mother- and she besmirched everything Mary Parker stood for.

“You have our combined potential, Peter. Make sure not to be like him too much and live up to it, papito.”

“It’s okay, to love her even if she hurt other people,” Red Robin said, gently ruffling his greasy hair. Peter’s spidey-sense tingled and he ducked away. Red Robin withdrew his hand. “Because you can’t really help that. Trust me, I’ve tried. You just have to make sure they don’t get the chance to do what they did again.”

Cold, cold voices and his voice gave out from screaming. “You really are your father’s son. Never being able to do what’s necessary.”

And Peter wondered what happened to Red Robin and who hurt him. Peter would just like to talk. Red Robin reminded him of himself, way back when being Spider-Man meant finding out Harry became Green Goblin. Pained. Tired.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. But that’s not really a problem, considering the last thing the organ harvester said before dumping him in an alley. “She’s dead in a ditch in Siberia or something. I’m not really worried she’ll do it again.”

“Uh.”

“It’s cool,”

“Right. Have you… remembered your dad?”

“Yeah. He’s in Gotham,” Peter unfurled a little.

“You want help tracking him down? I’m good at that kind of thing.”

Peter glanced at Red Robin. “I think you just admitted to being a stalker.”

“Vigilante,” Red Robin shrugged, like it explained everything. And yeah, it kind of did. Peter snorted.

“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to meet him anyways.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about me,” Peter ticked off his fingers. “I’m a literal walking, talking, breathing reminder of his trauma. And I don’t need a dad.”

Red Robin looked at him silently. Peter doesn’t think about it.

He never wanted to see his parents suffer. An alternate version of his dad, hurt so irrevocably by an alternate version of his mom?

Peter hated that this Catalina dirtied his mother’s name, and went against the most fundamental parts of what the spider symbol was meant for. And considering he’s been doing this longer than her, he had first dibs on defining it. He’ll look after his dad, as long as he’s stuck in Gotham. It’s only right.

“His name? Oh, my son, it’s Richard Grayson.”

——

Peter, who Trusts his instincts: no head rubs?? awwwww

Tim, who’s been trying to get a dna sample for the last month: how does he keep evading me?? He must be a genius or a spy or- *spirals down the conspiracy board*

——

Tim: I’ve connected the dots!

Peter: you’ve connected jack shit

——

Listen, the moment I learned Catalina Flores’ middle name, the pieces clicked, okay? Like legos. It’s like, former FBI agent in this one and former CIA agent in Peter’s home universe? Wow. Middle name Marie? Mary Parker? Incredible. Spider themes run in the blood apparently?? They both have brown eyes!! Trying to do good with no qualms about murder!! (I’m assuming since Mary Parker was SHIELD and I don’t think SHIELD cared much for the sanctity of human life if it threatened the country or something)

[aftgficrec]

My Personal Favorite Fics EVER!! All Neil/Andrew

I hope I am doing this right! I just hit the share button on my bookmarked fics. Idk if any of these have been on here before (I have read a lot of fics and it gets confusing to know which ones I found on here bc there are so many good recommendations, or ones I found on my own. But these are 3 of my favorite fics that I feel like are the most well done!

• Everything's Alright by DarkD: This fic is unfinished but so worth the read!! It is a soulmates au, and in it Neil and Andrew are looking out for eachother since they are 6 and 7 years old. It completely changes their dynamic but manages to keep the characters realistic. I love the direction it was going, I hope the author finishes it, but even if they don’t what they have written so far is worth the read.

• If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger: This fic is soooo amazing!! It was posed pretty recently (starting January 2024 and finishing in May) and It shows a different direction with Aaron and Andrew’s bonding, and different reasons for them having problems with each other. It features writer/author Andrew and Law Student turned police officer Aaron. The writing is so high quality and it is a completely finished fic!! The writing to show the writing of the book Andrew has written alone is impressive enough to get you to read it. I love it so much, it also gives a more realistic approach to Neil’s life and trauma as well as gives you more of a perspective on the problems of Aaron’s life. (Even tho it’s an au and doesn’t show his life during AFTG)

• Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22: This fic is not finished but completely captivated my attention when I saw it. I was surprised I had not read it before (because I am obsessed with Raven Neil fics, and this is one of them) but then I realized it was posted within the last year or so. It’s completely underrated. It does have a lot of hits but the kudos count not being in the thousands is a crime against humanity. The realistic take on. Neil’s trauma and different things going on as he is still connected very heavily to the Moriyama’s is sooo interesting. And if you are looking for a fic where Neil is a victim of SA/Rape this fic is also a good one for you. (Though it does have a lot of trauma so mind the tags) I know a lot of people are looking for fics like that tho and it’s hard to find bc there is so much SA trauma in AFTG 😔

Thanks for the recs and for sharing your thoughts on the fics! Readers, all of these stories lean toward the darkest themes of AFTG. -A

Everything's Alright by DarkD [Rated E, 182901 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023]

Previously recced here

Souls weren't meant to be left alone, so they split, always looking for their other half. No matter how long it took, the moment a soul existed, it sought the one that would complete it. The main indication is, when one of the halves of the soul turns seven years old, an identical mark appears on both parts. Along with that comes a set of unique abilities that soulmates can only use with each other—for protection, for finding each other. Soulmates would never be alone.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: gun violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: murder, tw: canonical character death

If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger [Rated T, 43145 Words, Complete, 2024]

Previously featured in this long andreil + aaron angst ask, our staff recs writers post, and as a random rec

Neil is imprisoned at sixteen years old for being the Butcher of Baltimore. Andrew obsesses, and Aaron obsesses because Andrew does, and everything goes wrong and raw and painful. Feat. the twinyards breaking each other’s hearts, and a decent amount of shade on the American justice system.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: implied/referenced torture

​​Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22 [Rated M, 163298 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024]

After the horrific incident that happened in the nest and the sound of Kevin crying, Nathaneil made the hard call and bargained with his life to get Jean and Kevin out, having no slight idea about the storm that was heading his way And after being missing for two years, Jean and Kevin swallowed the hard truth that Nathaneil might be dead somewhere To their surprise one day he appears out of the blue looking so much like their brother but nothing like Nathaneil at all Or Nathniel went on the run with his mother when he was 9 years old but three years later Nathan caught up to them and threw Nathaneil in the nest So we can say some things went a bit different .

NB: playlist for this fic

tw: dark, tw: gang rape, tw: dubcon, tw: human trafficking, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: assault, tw: flashbacks, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: abuse and torture, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: medication addiction and withdrawal, tw: recreational drug use, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: vomit, tw: homophobia, tw: canonical character death

[bugwolfsstuff]

chat help I am plagued by the unfathomable rage I feel when I am reminded that some people think Odysseus wasnt faithful to Penelope

[sayruq]

[tubbytarchia]

So I think my perception of Grian's reasoning for enabling the horrible Jimmy ecosystem and also my perception of his character as a whole has been turned on its head completely and I feel really bad for him after watching Kingdom of Valor and it's like bad roleplay but it's. it's done things to me and I've never ever felt this much for Grian not even in my sadboy Grian Desert Duo phase. I don't know what to do about this

SA word under cut

Episodes 6 and 10 (like the entirety of it) for context. :( . :(. But like major warning if you watch those episodes, especially 10, because um they didn't use any disclaimers

[candycandy00]

Human - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic

You’re a human-shaped cat girl curse in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Part 2

Notes: I got the idea for this after watching the latest episode and loving how they used horror movie music when Gojo was stalking Jogo. So this has horror elements.

Smut. 18+. VERY DARK FIC! Noncon/Rape! Torture! Pain! Gojo being a sadistic freak! Don’t read this if any of those things bother you! Reader doesn’t die but she goes through hell. You’ve been warned!

You had always loved humans. You loved the way they laughed, the way they moved, the way they loved each other so fiercely. From the moment you came into being, you longed to be human. 

You were a curse, and you were supposed to hate humans, to kill them. But you’d never harmed one in your lifetime. It was a blessing that you looked like them. The only visible difference was that you had furry cat ears and a long cat tail. In recent years you noticed young humans wearing fake cat ears as fashion accessories, and you loved it. Mainly because it meant you could walk among them and those that could see you wouldn’t even blink upon seeing your ears. 

You didn’t even need the ears to hear. You had a set of “human ears” as well, which you got your auditory information from. 

Over the past few months, you had even made friends with a couple of human girls who attended a college in the city. You looked around the same age as them, so you blended in well. 

This year, for Halloween, they invited you to come with them to Shibuya for a huge party in the streets. You were reluctant to go to big public places with them, for fear that they would introduce you to someone who couldn’t see you. But this Halloween party sounded so fun! And you could let your tail show and everyone would assume it was part of your costume. 

Your friends helped you pick out a dress to wear. It was black, to match your ears, slinky, with a slit up the side and thin straps at your shoulders. Your friends called it “sexy” and said it complimented your figure. 

On Halloween night, the evening had started out great, but of course it all went to hell pretty quickly. You saw the veil coming down, tried to hurry your friends along to escape without revealing what you knew, what you were, but it was too late. Your friends were sucked down into the subway station, and though you checked and found that you could leave the barrier if you wanted, you couldn’t abandon them. 

So you traveled down to where they were. You spotted some curses along the way but they ignored you, perhaps assuming you were on their side. You found your two friends standing in a corner, their hands clasped together in fear. When they saw you, relief broke out across their faces and they pulled you into an embrace. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had to protect them. 

It wasn’t long before a sorcerer showed up. You saw him hovering above the crowd like a god. He was tall, with snow white hair and a blindfold over his eyes. Even in a sea of humans dressed in outlandish costumes, he would have stuck out even if he were walking among them. There was something imposing about him. Something frightening. 

Then the curses came, and a fight broke out. Or more accurately, a massacre. The curses were killing humans to distract and frazzle the sorcerer, and you quickly ushered your friends to a far corner, as far away from the carnage as possible. You told them to remain there and keep their heads down while you went to check the situation. They didn’t want you to go, they were afraid for you, but you had to find out what was happening. 

When you got a little closer to the train tracks, you saw the sorcerer standing above everyone else, and watched him slowly pull his blindfold down. You saw the most haunting, beautiful, glowing eyes you’d ever seen. The sight took your breath away. And then, the real massacre began. 

The sorcerer dove in among the curses, ripping them apart, laughing with sadistic glee, eyes wild and crazed, mouth open in a terrifying smile. He was beautiful. He was monstrous. He was a nightmare come to life. 

What scared you most of all was how much he enjoyed it. This wasn’t a job for him, a duty. It was pure, unfiltered pleasure. He loved it. He loved the way their bodies ripped at the seams, the way their blood flowed and splashed, the cries of terror and pain. 

You retreated back to your friends, planning to shield them if anything went wrong. The action quickly died down. Whatever plan the curses had for the sorcerer failed. He’d slaughtered them all. You sensed the barrier come down, and you knew your friends would be safe. You also knew you had to flee. The sorcerer probably sensed you at some point, and your fear was that he would mistake you as being with the ones he’d killed, the ones who’d tried to kill him. 

When you had the chance, you took off, running up the subway tunnel, into the darkness, shedding your high heeled human shoes as you went. You found a small maintenance room along the way and went inside. It was dark and empty, and there was nothing but a table, desk, chair, and a couple of lockers in the room. You squeezed into one of the lockers and dampened your cursed energy as low as possible, then waited. If enough time passed, you would feel safe in assuming the sorcerer hadn’t noticed you or at least hadn’t considered you worth pursuing. 

You hid there, holding your breath, trying not to move an inch. But then you heard the door open, and your heart stopped. You listened as heavy footsteps walked into the room. You covered your mouth with your hand as tears trickled down your face. You just saw what this man could do to curses, what he enjoyed doing to curses. You didn’t stand a chance. 

The door to your locker flung open, and you were met with the most horrifying, unhinged grin you’d ever seen, wild, shimmering blue eyes boring into you. 

“There you are!” His voice was deep, with a distinctly gleeful tone. 

He grabbed a handful of your hair and tore you from the locker. “I’m not with those other curses,” you were crying, wanting to make that clear as soon as possible, “I don’t even know them!”

The sorcerer pulled your face closer to his and sneered at you. “So you just happened to be in the same place at the same time?”

You realized how bad it looked. “Please wait! I’ve never hurt humans! I love humans!”

He laughed then. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

Your whole body was trembling with fright, your face wet with tears. You were pulled against him, and you felt a bulge through his pants. Killing the curses had left him aroused. He really was a sadist! His face had turned cold and emotionless. You didn’t know which expression was more terrifying. 

You tried to pull away from him, and his hand slipped from your hair. He grabbed at one of your ears, and it sent a jolt of sensation through you. 

Your ears were incredibly sensitive to both pleasure and pain. When they were touched, it was almost as intense as as being touched between your legs. As his fingers closed over your ear, a moan escaped you. 

He froze. You clamped your hand over your mouth. You glanced up at his face, and you saw a flicker of surprise. He gave your ear a light squeeze, as if to experiment. Your entire body jerked, and your hand did nothing to contain another humiliating sound coming from your mouth. Your breaths became quicker. You squirmed and clamped your thighs together, trying to block out the pleasure emanating from your ear. 

You heard his voice say, “Seriously?” You glanced up and saw a wicked grin on his face, a strange look in those glimmering eyes. His thumb stroked over your ear, softly, and you couldn’t hold back your mewling cries. 

His eyes shifted down to your chest, as if just noticing your shape, the way your breasts heaved beneath the thin fabric of your dress, the way your cleavage nearly spilled out of the low neckline. His free hand slid one narrow strap down your shoulder, exposing one breast, making you whimper in shame. Then he was roughly grabbing the rounded flesh. 

He chuckled. “Why the fuck does a curse have a body like this?”

Your hands were frozen at your sides. You were too afraid to move. You had no choice but to let him molest you as he kept stroking your ear. He seemed to enjoy your distress, that violent, bloodthirsty look still in his eyes. But there was something else there, something that scared you even more. Lust. 

The hand groping your chest moved down, then slid under the slit in your dress, shoving itself between your trembling thighs. He laughed again. “I guess curses don’t wear panties,” he said, his fingers opening your folds and rubbing the small, sensitive nub inside. 

Your body jolted again, pleasure rippling through you. You tried to pull away again, despite your fear, but his hand left your ear and grabbed hold of your tail. 

You screamed. Your tail was more sensitive than your ears, and the harshness of his hand coiling your tail around it and squeezing hard made you see stars. He loosened his grip slightly, now rubbing your tail in a more sensual motion. You could feel the pleasure building again, with his hands stroking both your tail and your clit. You tried to fight it, tried to contain your pitiful moans, tried not to look at those lovely, eerie eyes that were watching your face. But you had always been a weak curse, in many ways. 

“Ahhhhh!”

The cry of ecstasy broke free from your lips, and your body spasmed as you collapsed. His hands held you up, still stroking your quivering flesh and your shaking tail, even as you panted and leaned your head over onto his chest in exhaustion. 

You heard him laugh. “I’ve never seen a curse cum before,” he was saying, his voice so close it sent chills down your spine. “Thanks for the show, but the fun’s over now.”

Fun? What part of this was fun? But within seconds you realized the humiliation you just suffered was fun compared to what he planned to do with you. His hand tightened suddenly on your tail, and just as suddenly, he ripped it off. 

Blood sprayed behind you. The pain was blinding, unimaginable, unbearable. You began to fall forward, but he caught you by your hair, holding you upright. You couldn’t even scream, your mouth opening and closing as you gasped for air. 

“Guess I found your weak point,” he said in a light hearted tone. 

When you finally regained your voice, after your body began slowly regenerating your tail, you pleaded with him. 

“Please let me go! I’m scared!”

He used your hair to turn your head so that you faced him. “And you think all those humans you guys murdered weren’t scared?”

“I didn’t kill anyone! I told you, I love humans!”

His grin faded. “Why would a curse love humans?”

You whimpered as his grip on your hair tightened. He reached up his other hand and roughly grabbed an ear, making you jump and cry out. “Because I want to be human,” you finally said, shuddering with sobs. 

He laughed again, a cruel laugh that made you hate him as much as you feared him. “That’s hilarious,” he said, then suddenly he grabbed a hold of your dress and completely ripped it from your body. You yelled out in surprise, then tried to cover yourself. He pulled your hands away from your body and shoved you onto the metal table in the middle of the room. 

You were on your back, completely bare, the gaping wound where your tail once was trying to close around the tiny nub you’d regenerated. You kicked wildly, thrashing about to try to keep him from climbing on top of you, but it was no use. He was immeasurably stronger than you. He straddled you, his knees on either side of your body. He looked down at you with a mixture of desire and disgust. 

Then, he unbuckled his belt and opened his pants. You were shaking your head before he even pulled out his massive cock, still rock hard from his earlier rampage. “Please, no…” 

“Shut up,” he told you, scooting back on the table to give himself enough room to shove your legs apart. “Stop trying to act human. It’s grossing me out.”

So you laid there, crying and shaking, as he took you. His thrusts were violent, satisfying his lust for your body as well as his lust for hurting curses. He was destroying you. That’s what it felt like. His hands were on your breasts, squeezing far too hard, then on your hips, gripping them with bruising fingers, then finally on your ears. 

Surprisingly, his touch there started out gentle. He caressed them softly with his fingers, and you couldn’t resist the pleasure it caused. You let out little whimpering moans and shivered under his ministrations. He grinned down at you, seeming amused by the fact that he could make you feel this way even as he raped you. 

After a few minutes of mortifying pleasure that left your heart and body confused, when you were on the edge of another orgasm, he suddenly gripped one of your ears tightly, and pulled. You cried out in pain, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. “Please, don’t!”

His face shifted. His grin was maniacal, his eyes deranged, as he oh so slowly pulled your hyper sensitive ear from your head. You screamed, clawing at him then nearly blacking out from the pain. All the while, he was still fucking you. 

One of his hands moved to your other ear, stroking it again in an almost loving fashion. You didn’t have the strength to fight or resist. You could only allow the totally conflicting sensations to wash over you in waves. The white hot pain of your ripped off ear and his cock tearing through you, and the mind melting pleasure of his soft fingers on your remaining ear. 

Eventually he leaned forward, his fully clothed body pressing against your nude one, and pressed his lips to your ear. He ran his tongue over it, gently, and it felt like your entire body was being stimulated. You came with a loud, whining moan, your back arching involuntarily against him. When you looked up, he was smiling down at you, not the frightening grin he’d been wearing, but a strangely kind one. In your hazy, half conscious state, you thought he looked like an angel. 

Then, he ripped your other ear off. 

Your eyes widened, your mouth opening in a soundless scream, your torn body clenching around him. And that’s when you felt his warm cum shooting deeply inside you. “You’ll never be human,” he whispered as he filled you with his seed. 

He pulled out and got off the table, zipping his pants and fixing his belt. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at you. The anger and the bloodlust were gone from his eyes, he’d fucked it all into you and left it there. As if he had come down from a high, he stood quietly for a moment, staring at your wrecked body. He opened his mouth to say something, but the door to the room burst open, cutting him off. 

Your two friends ran inside, one of them clutching your discarded shoes. They must have seen them in the tunnel and come looking for you. Even after all the blood and violence they’d seen tonight, they still walked down a dark, scary tunnel to find you! 

The looks on their faces were horrific. They ran past the sorcerer and to your side, one of them yanking off her jacket to cover you with it. Then they rounded on him. 

“You sick fuck! What did you do to her?!”

“Rapist! Monster!”

They were screaming, tears on their own faces. You tried to sit up, to tell them to run away. Sorcerers didn’t attack humans as a general rule, but this one was such a terror that you didn’t know what he would do to two human girls who had interrupted his fun. 

He looked at them with bewilderment on his face. He gestured toward you and said, “She’s… your friend?”

“Of course she is,” one of them cried. She was digging around in her purse for something, then pulled out a small pink canister. “Stay the fuck away from her or I’ll mace you in the fucking face!”

You were sitting up on the table, with effort. Everything hurt. “Get behind me,” you told them. 

“No,” the one holding the mace said, “you’re always protecting us! You think we didn’t notice?”

The other girl was standing firmly in between you and the sorcerer. “We’ll protect you this time!”

He looked at them, at the can of mace trembling in the girl’s hand. They were scared, but they refused to back down. 

Several different emotions seemed to pass over his face. Confusion, realization, shock, horror… guilt? Was he just now realizing that he’d brutalized an innocent creature? Had he really thought you deserved whatever punishment he dished out because he assumed you’d killed humans? He didn’t say anything, he simply looked at you with a pained expression, and then he was gone, so fast none of you saw him leave. 

Your friends turned to you. “Let’s get you home. Do you need a hospital, or can you heal yourself?”

You blinked at them. Your ears were already growing back. “How did you know I can heal?”

They glanced at each other. “We’ve known you were different for a while now. We don’t know exactly how you’re different, but we think it’s amazing!”

You pulled them both into a hug, tears in your eyes. They were the silver lining in your life. They made you feel human, and that sadistic sorcerer could never take that from you. 

[storywestistrash]

watched mouthwashing finally. the fact that i saw people be more aggressive towards curly than jimmy is kinda strange. kinda real weird

[ladystoneboobs]

anyways, speaking of cannibalism, wrt frey pies in particular, it just hit me that the rat cook song is not just a way for wyman to slyly telegraph what he did w/o any of his in-world foes noticing, it could also be his justification just as much as inspiration. let's look back at how we learned of the legend through bran:

"It was not for murder that the gods cursed him," Old Nan said, "nor for serving the Andal king his son in a pie. A man has a right to vengeance. But he slew a guest beneath his roof, and that the gods cannot forgive." -Bran IV, aSoS

so, in other words: 1) violating guest right is the most heinous of crimes and 2) if guest right is not violated then murder and even cannibalizing the murdered to feed to their own kin is a-ok so long as the motive is personal revenge. by giving guest gifts to the 3 frey envoys to end any guest rite bond asap and get to the killings, wyman not only gets just a feeling of moral superiority by at least not committing the same type of crime as the enemies he killed, he also ensured that his vengeance could be divinely sanctioned as a natural right correctly exercised, unlike how the rat cook did his. he learned his lessons from this northern legend and improved upon the actions of this nightfort cook accordingly. thing is, the justified right to vengeance has to be just an old gods thing, not fitting in with the seven (which house manderly had converted to 1000s of years ago back in the reach) as the christainity stand-in, which is just evidence of the depth of manderly northern assimilation and/or that old dark ways never entirely disappear, no matter the religion. wyman manderly can still worship the "new" gods with just as much urge toward old-fashioned bloody revenge as any old gods worshipping northman, not so different from his vassal ser bartimus in the wolf's den who bragged to davos that his ancestors were likely among those who once hung slavers' entrails in a heart tree as a bloody offering to the old gods.

[sayruq]

TW: Rape

[normalbrothershow]

ignoring lucifers "and i lost my virginity to her" abt kelly kline cause sera gamble and jeremy carver did not put 5009683 sam/lucifer rape implications into s6-11 so that Mr Hard-On For Alpha Military Males can undo them