#tw suppression

[hussyknee]

[deaddee-anime-brownfanlady]

[lividbrunette]

I am so sick and tired of seeing all these “I know biden is bad, I know biden has done some bad things but vote for biden because trump will destroy our democracy” posts bc a) clearly our democracy is a sham and b) STOP DEFENDING BIDEN, STOP DOWNPLAYING WHAT HE HAS DONE! you do not need to, nor should you, defend biden to any degree. you can say that we cannot let trump win without that other bullshit. biden is pure evil, he is scum. and part of what makes him so horrendous and disturbing is the charade he puts on like he’s the good guy and trump is the evil, the bad to his good. quite literally the only thing that he has going for him is that his opponent is somehow even worse than him. that his opponent has no pretense of even trying to act like he doesn’t want to fully be a dictator. stop fucking defending biden. stop fucking downplaying all the horrendous, despicable, evil things he has done and is continuing to do. he is fully funding and supporting and enabling a genocide. it helps no one.

and if/when biden loses, he only has himself to blame.

ideally we would all rally behind a third party candidate and the electoral college wouldn’t exist. ideally these wouldn’t be our “choices”. idfk what to do because trump cannot win but how can any of us in good conscience vote for biden’s evil, fascistic, decrepit ass ??

what makes biden so different from or better than trump? nothing!!

- he is unconditionally supporting netanyahu and his genocide of Palestinians

- democrats have done nothing to protect nor help us as roe v. wade was overturned, we still have student loan debt, the cost of living is unaffordable and the minimum wage remains unchanged, biden has increased police presence and funding for police (more so than in 2020, despite the eruption of BLM protests and the murder of George Floyd and his promise to George Floyd’s family that he wouldn’t let his murder become just another number, another hashtag), and so. much. more.

- biden is building off of trump’s policies - specifically and most recently, biden has just announced an executive order to deny asylum requests. the increase in police funding and the further militarization of police was also built off of trump’s policies

the u.s. is an evil sham of a country.

as ethel cain said …

[bbyforever]

tonights appetite suppressant

[serickswrites]

Don't Run V

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, experimentation, power suppression, betrayal

Villain had been so stupid. Had been so naive. Had been so blind that now they could see, they couldn't believe they had fallen for Hero's trap.

They lay cuffed to an exam table, power suppression cuffs tight on their wrists awaiting their torture. It was only a matter of time. It turned out that before Organization would kill them, they wanted to understand them. And those like them.

Or so Hero had explained.

"We've never seen anything like you and your kind before. But more and more of you are cropping up. We just want to understand it before we wipe you from the face of the earth," Hero said as they leaned over Villain.

"Fuck you," Villain hissed. It was all they could do. They were cut off from their powers. Cut off from any ability to escape. All they could do was sit and wait to be experimented on. To be vivisected and tortured to death.

Hero scrunched up their nose in disgust. "I can't believe you would think that I would stoop as so low as to work with likes of you. That I would need your help."

Villain felt their cheeks heat. Hero was right. Hero would have never done those things, and so why did Villain believe they would?

As the Scientist leaned over them, poked and prodded them, Villain realized they had time to think about that. Just as they had time to plot their escape. Or so they hoped.

"I don't think I'm going to peel your skin back just yet. No point in opening you up either until I'm ready," the Scientist said as they lifted a scalpel up and examined it. "That will come later, of course. Have to see how it all works, you know."

"Please, you don't have to do this," Villain tried. Perhaps Scientist was more reasonable. Perhaps they had a heart.

"I'm a scientist, of course I do! The world exists to be understood. And I need to understand you. But if I cut you open now, you'll just bleed to death, or at least I think you will. Several of my subjects have done so already."

Villain's mouth went dry. Several? They had caught and killed several?

"No," the Scientist set down the scalpel, "I think I'll start with testing your healing abilities. Don't try to lie, I know you have them. All of your kind seem to. But with these cuffs, you are cut off from most, but not all of your power. So I'm going to see how long it takes you to heal from various injuries. That will be fun, don't you think?"

Villain's heartbeat quickened. They were cut off from most, but not all of their power. They could do this. They could escape. And when they did, they would unleash the full extent of their power and destroy Organization.

Tags: @eyehartart @invalid-outlaw @whydoyoufeelsoclown @musi-creatively @harryandginnydeservesbetter

@cqsmo @emerald-blade @nightsshadow1 @friendlylandcrustacean @holz-kopfff

@keeper-of-all-the-random-things @st0rmm @ooooshinythings @artisticdemon @agulifufik-blog

@mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

[nat-1-whump]

Whumpee was a capable magic user, having cultivated that skill their whole life. So, naturally, they took liberty in exercising it every change they got. From teleporting rather than traveling, to using telekinesis to carry heavy things, to using illusion spells to pull lighthearted tricks... it was a wonder they ever had any energy left to cast more spells at all.

However, they were injured and had to be hospitalized. The doctors put them on magic suppressants, warning them that using magic could be unpredictable, or even dangerous, in their vulnerable condition. It was safest to take their powers away for the time being.

Whumpee did not take this news well.

One evening, Caretaker went to visit Whumpee. Whumpee had seemed particularly upset with their loss of magic last time Caretaker visited, so this time, they brought them a stuffed animal. Hopefully it would comfort them, at least a little bit, as they recovered.

They expected to find Whumpee frustratedly picking at their bandages, or in a restless sleep, as usual. But when they opened the door, they found Whumpee knelt down on the floor, sobbing over a shattered mug.

Caretaker hurried to set the plushie on the bed. They crouched down next to Whumpee, and put a hand on their shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. I'll help you clean it up, and we can get you a new mug, okay?"

Whumpee sniffled. "I-I can't even fix a stupid cup..." They cried.

Caretaker instinctively glanced towards Whumpee's hands, worried that they'd cut themself trying to pick up the pieces. They were initially relieved to see that Whumpee hadn't, until they realized that Whumpee must have tried---and failed---to use a mending spell instead. That must be why they were crying now. "...Fix it? Whumpee, no... You can't. Not right now. Look, I'll go get a broom to clean up the pieces, and-"

"No, I want to do this..." Whumpee looked up at Caretaker, their eyes reddened and tearful.

"Whumpee, you can't, remember? They-the doctors, they put you on magic suppressants until you get better." Caretaker wasn't a magic user themself, so they wondered what it was like to lose magic powers after using them for so long. They figured it probably threw poor Whumpee's system all out of whack.

Whumpee considered for a moment. They looked at the broken mug, then back at Caretaker. "Wait, I think... I think I can force a tiny bit, just a little..."

"What do you mean, 'force?' Whumpee, I really don't think that's a good idea." Caretaker tried to take Whumpee's hands in their own, but Whumpee pulled away, focused on the broken mug.

Whumpee picked up a few pieces. They ignored Caretaker's protests and closed their eyes, chanting a mending spell under their breath. Their brow furrowed, as they seemed to strengthen their resolve to cast the spell.

To Caretaker's disbelief, a faint light began to flicker from Whumpee's palms, the glow peeking out from under the ceramic shards. A couple of pieces began to shudder, clinking as they seemed to gravitate towards each other.

Suddenly, the pieces went still. They clattered to the floor as Whumpee's arms fell limp. Like a reflex, Caretaker grabbed Whumpee and pulled them into an embrace before they could collapse into the pile of sharp pieces. The ceramic shards glittered in the light from the window, as if to taunt them.

"Whumpee!" Caretaker felt a warm trickle against their chest, and gently turned Whumpee's head up to see a stream of blood coming from their nose. They shakily pulled Whumpee up and took them back to their hospital bed, struggling to carry their limp body. After draping Whumpee over the blankets, they found a paper towel and began to clean the blood off their face.

Whumpee's eyes fluttered open as Caretaker wiped their bloody nose. "D-did I do it?" Their voice sounded distant and groggy.

Caretaker's heart broke. Whumpee sounded so hopeful. "No, Whumpee. Your cup's still broken. But you have to rest, okay?" They instinctively put a hand on Whumpee's chest to push them down, fully expecting Whumpee to try to pull themself out of bed.

Instead, Whumpee only stared up at them, defeated. Caretaker noticed the dark circles under Whumpee's eyes and was about to ask when they last slept, when Whumpee's gaze wandered past Caretaker to the floor.

Caretaker followed their eyes to where the fragments of ceramic seemed to glow in the fading sunlight. They felt they should leave Whumpee's side to clean it up, but now, such an action felt too... final. They figured it would only make Whumpee feel worse, watching the pieces they tried so hard to fix get swept up and dumped in the trash.

A sniffle from Whumpee pulled Caretaker back to the moment. They looked down to see Whumpee's eyes well up with tears. Wordlessly, they squeezed Whumpee's hand.

Whumpee pulled their hand away and curled themself up on the bed, hiding their face behind their knees. Their sniffling turned to full-on sobbing.

Caretaker gently stroked Whumpee's hair, trying to find the right words. "Whumpee... You need to rest. Nobody is expecting you to start casting spells again so soon. Not after all that happened."

Whumpee peeked over their knees. "It hurts. It feels like they took something out of me and it messed everything up."

"I know... But you'll feel better once you sleep, yeah? And the more you rest, the sooner you'll be recovered enough to handle your magic again." Caretaker pulled the blankets up to Whumpee's shoulder and handed them the plush toy they'd brought earlier.

Whumpee moved their legs away from their chest, exposing their face as they clutched the stuffed animal. Their momentary comfort gave way to worry. "What if I forget how to use magic while I'm in here, though? W-what if I'm never able to use magic again?" Their lip started to quiver.

Caretaker gave Whumpee a warm smile, though their eyes held a look of pity. "I'm not sure, Whumpee. I don't know a whole lot about magic... How it works, what it takes to learn it." They patted Whumpee's shoulder. "But whatever happens, I'll stay by your side every step of the way. I'll promise you that much."

A small smile formed on Whumpee's face. Though they still seemed worried, Caretaker's reassurance calmed their nerves somewhat. They closed their eyes, squeezing the stuffed animal against their chest.

The two rested quietly in the hospital room, the shadows stretching higher up the wall until the orange sunset outside had darkened to a rich purple. Once Whumpee dozed off, Caretaker swept up the broken pieces. They sat down next to Whumpee again and gently placed a hand on their cheek.

Whumpee mumbled contentedly. For the first time in a while, their sleep seemed... peaceful.

[livingoffana]

ran out of diet coke time to kms

[feralboo-the-weirdo]

Being the youngest sucks.

Being the youngest is always being lonely

It's always being too young

Always the odd one out, the late one.

The last to leave, the last to graduate

The child the parents give up parenting on because they're tired

It's feeling guilty you're the youngest even though you couldn't chose your birth order.

It's the guilt that you were treated "better"

You got "more."

It's being the baby of the family and feeling suffocated in the wants your parents have for you. It's feeling like you can never leave your parents.

It's growing up too fast because you don't want to be left behind

It's hiding away your emotions because you realize no one really cares

It's trying to be the sunshine child

it's trying to be the child the parents have to do the least for.

it's watching your siblings get punished and wondering when you're next

it's feeling immensely terrified of confrontation because you're never allowed to win.

It's being left with your siblings because your parents gave up on you and being raised by them.

It's listening to your siblings emotions and feeling terrible because you can't do anything to help them.

it's feeling to young

it's feeling like you deserve to be punished for existing.

It's feeling like you're the last straw that broke your parents. That if they just hadn't had you they'd still have money.

It's feeling like you have to be there for your parents because all the rest of your siblings leave. It's feeling like a third parent.

it's watching everyone around you grow old but you're still young.

it's feeling so old but you're still young.

it's being told you're selfish when you're literally a child.

it's being told to grow up when you're a child.

It's feeling like you can't have mental illnesses because you watch the strain it puts on your parents with your siblings. It's watching your family suffer but not knowing how to help and not being able to.

It's constantly eavesdropping on accident out of habit because no one explains what's going on.

It's trying to monitor the situation so no one gets hurt.

it's feeling incredibly uncomfortable talking about emotions because you weren't allowed to as a child because they weren't "important" enough because your oldest siblings just told you "at least you're not an adult" or "it's so much easier at that age."

It's feeling like an only child after everyone moves out.

It's feeling disconnected from your older siblings, like you never had a relationship with them.

it's feeling like a burden on your parents because you're the last one.

You carry so many secrets. You know so many secrets. You don't know what to do with those secrets.

Being the youngest is not carefree. In a way, the youngest caries almost as much as the oldest.

I don't know the experience of many other youngest siblings but mine was not the carefree experience my older siblings tried to make it out to be. But I'm starting to realize my childhood wasn't exactly normal so that probably doesn't help. I don't know that most youngest siblings aren't supposed to feel like a third parent to most of their siblings at like fifteen.

Please don't hate on this post, I'm not trying to hate on eldest and middle siblings, I just want to caution you to remember that your younger sibling is going to grow up and remember the things you said to them. It's not their fault they're the youngest.

Feel free to add to this post.

[one-piece-aus]

Whumptober Day 15

Cracker x Reader

TW: Implied parental abuse

"Hold still-" You reached for Cracker's arm with a cotton pad when he swung it away from you.

"What are you doing?!" Cracker glared at you. He just came home to relax.

"I'm trying to clean your wounds," you said, attempting to grab his hand to bring his arm back to you, and he kept holding it out of your reach.

You don't understand why your husband must be so difficult when it comes to cleaning his wounds. If Cracker tended to his injuries better, he wouldn't be so vulnerable to pain. You swear he bruises worse than a banana.

"Leave me alone, woman!" Cracker got up from his seat to move away from you only to bump into a bookshelf behind him and have a few books fall on top of his head. "Ow, STUPID MOTHERFUCKER!"

He picked up the bookshelf and threw it across the living room. Books were now scattered across the floor. You sighed but you knew the servants would clean it up later. You moved over to Cracker who now sat on the floor, pouting and holding his sore head.

"Cracker, would you please let me take care of you now?" You gently laid your hand over his.

"Fine," he grumbled, rolling his eyes to look the other way as you took his arm. Lightly you pressed the cotton pad to his arm, and instantly, he flinched and yonked his arm away. "Ow! What is in that thing?"

"It's rubbing alcohol, it kills the germs on the surface to prevent an infection, which causes severe pain later," you stated trying to grab his arm again.

Reluctantly, he lowers it back in your gasp, wincing with each press to the wound. "Ow... ow..."

"Oh, you poor baby," you coo as you delicately clean his wounds. "Mind telling me why your pain tolerance is so low? I thought all Big Mom's sons had to go through rough training to be strong."

"No-" He winced again before continuing. "We didn't have to train if we didn't want to, we just had to find a way to help Mama out with her dream to find the One Piece. Perospero took to reading books, studying the art of warfare and navigation for example, he can fight but he didn't dedicate himself to training like Katakuri."

"Hmmm, so you trained because you wanted to. Is it because of your admiration for your brother Katakuri?" You guessed.

"No- well- that's not the real reason... I just wanted to get stronger so I couldn't feel pain anymore."

"How come?"

Cracker tilted his head back, debating whether to tell you or not. "You know how Mama discards our fathers once we're born?"

"Yeah."

"Well, she didn't always do that, but my father was the last one." His tone melted into a resenting growl as he brought up his father. "Since Mama was busy a lot of the time, she didn't watch the damage he did to me." Cracker bawled his fist, trying to contain the anger rising with the memories. "It wasn't until Katakuri saw the aftermath of one of the bastard's episodes did Mama find out." His rage died out as he opened his palm again, he then turned to you with a smug smile. "And then I never had to see him again."

You smiled at him, happy your husband is now being more open with you. Finishing the bandage over his arm, you patted his arm. "There, all better now."

"What?" Cracker held up his arm to see the wound was covered in white bandages. "When did you-"

"When you were talking," you giggled heading out of the library. "Don't go anywhere, I'm going to get you an ice packet."

Cracker watched you leave, dumbfounded. Glancing at his patched arm then at the exit again, a smile curled up his lips.

Tag: @bookandyarndragon @roseoftrafalgar

[strv4bnes]

fighting w ur mother is a great way to suppress your appetite guys!

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

If Imane Khelif is so powerful that no woman could stand against her, why did she finish at 17th in 2018? Why'd she get eliminated in the first round in 2019? Why'd she only make it to the quarterfinals back in 2020?

Seriously, look into any "gender controversy" athlete and you will find multiple examples of cis, perisex women beating them. "Competitive advantage" my ass, you just don't want to admit that cis men aren't so innately superior to cis women that the slightest hint of testosterone is an automatic win condition.

[hussyknee]

Ayat Khaddura, 27, was a digital content and podcast presenter in North Gaza. She was one of the five journalists murdered by Israel's targeted air strike on Nov 20, along with her sister and grandmother in her home. She posted this video in the knowledge that these were probably her last moments.

Video description:

A young Arab woman in a hijab and abaya speaks into her camera in Arabic in a high, frightened voice. The subtitles read: "This might be the last video from me. Today the Occupation Forces dropped phosphorus bombs on the Beit Lahia residential area, and frightening sound bombs. And uhm, they dropped letters from the sky ordering us to evacuate. So of course nearly everyone evacuated for the most part. Everyone ran into the streets in a crazy way. No one knows where they're coming or going. Uhm, we're all split up and around. Me and some others stayed at home. The others evacuated and left. We don't know where they've gone, that's for sure. The situation is terrifying, the scenes are horrifying [voice breaking as she starts to cry], the situation is extremely difficult. May God have mercy on us." [She closes her eyes as she starts to cry openly. End clip.]

[New clip.] The same young woman is seated on a desk in front of a world map wearing a jacket over a t-shirt and her hijab. Large video caption reads "Message from Ayat Khaddura who was martyred yesterday". Her voice is sad and resigned, and her face is tired and tear-stained as she speaks in Arabic. Subtitles read:

"We are human beings, just like other human beings around the world. We had many big dreams, but unfortunately today our dreams are that if we are killed we will be martyred in one piece, one body (not torn to pieces) so that people can recognise us, and we will not be cut off in pieces and put in a bag. [struggles not to cry.] When we are martyred there will be a shroud for us and we will be buried in a grave. Our dreams have become that the war will stop, that we stop hearing the sound of bombing. We never imagined we would reach such a stage and live such a life that does not have the lowest basic necessities. [Blinks back tears.] There are things we can't talk about, there are things that people photographed and did not document. When the war will end, who will continue to talk to people? What happened to us, how we lived, what we saw. Everything is being destroyed before our eyes." [Looks down with a sob. End video.]

Israel dropping leaflets onto trapped and hiding people minutes before bombing them is nothing but a sick PR exercise— there's nowhere safe to go, no telling where the bombs will drop, no way to not leave family members behind while fleeing. Many people in North Gaza decided not to evacuate to the South, not only because similar calls to go South have ended in Israeli airstrikes massacring the refugees, but the possibility of being killed while trying to make the journey, the lack of food and water to sustain them, and inability to leave old and disabled family members behind. Some like Hind Khaudary, who had the opportunity to leave the Gaza strip entirely through foreign embassies, stayed behind to continue reporting the situation unfolding in the North. Meanwhile, Israel is continuing to bomb the South, despite their own evacuation orders.

Ayat is one of the fifty-three Middle Eastern journalists killed since Oct. 7. Forty-six of them were Palestinian, most massacred along with their families. Air strikes on other journalists managed to kill only their families instead. This is the deadliest period for journalists recorded by the Committee to Protect Journalists in its thirty years of existence. In fact, Israel killed one of the CPJ's own journalists documenting the murders around the same time as Ayat.

Nearly all these are targeted strikes. Israel controls the census in Gaza and therefore has information on where everyone lives. They also track journalists cellphones and use surveillance drones and quadcopters (drone snipers). Journalists and their families are known to receive threatening phone calls from unknown numbers before they're eventually attacked.

As to why Israel is so concerned about journalists? For the same reason the Biden Administration has stated openly.

But the administration remains wary about Netanyahu’s endgame and seeming lack of a plan for what to do once Hamas is defeated. There was no sense that the pause would turn into a lengthier cease-fire, a senior administration official said. And there was some concern in the administration about an unintended consequence of the pause: that it would allow journalists broader access to Gaza and the opportunity to further illuminate the devastation there and turn public opinion on Israel.

Please spread news of these journalists' murders, show their faces, say their names. While Western journalists from CNN and BCC are embedded with IOF teams to safely "report" on Gaza, Palestinian journalists who have been reporting there for years, wearing a press jacket and helmet they know won't protect them, are documenting and broadcasting the situation on the ground, watching their colleagues being picked off one by one for the last month and half, not knowing when it will be their turn. Ayat was not a combatant. She was a young woman a lot like most on this site, young and angry at injustice, armed with only a degree and internet connection to fight for her people. She wanted the world to witness her last moments: documenting the situation till the end, her terror of dying, how she clung to her faith and wanted to live. Hers and her compatriots work is to resist letting their people disappear among the vast uncounted; she resisted it to her last breath.

Empires and colonizers win wars by reducing people to numbers. When people become numbers they become collateral, cattle, "unavoidable casualties". This is what Palestinians have fought for decades to show: "We Are Not Numbers". If the West wants to kill human beings with impunity, everyone gets to see exactly which lives and loves and hopes it's snuffing out forever.

[rochenn]

Honestly kinda weird what an almost 60 year period of de facto de-christianization in a language and culture otherwise steeped in centuries of Christianity does to a mf.

Like ur always referring to some dude when you swear and curse but you bet your ass most of the ppl around you have never seen a church from the inside unless they took a tour to look at the colorful altars and architecture. It's just history to you. Pretty buildings etc. You don't spare a single thought towards Jesus bc his birthday isn't named after him in your language and his resurrection is linked to pre-Christian traditions that are way more fun than going to church. You forget he exists. You celebrate his days either way, but all of that happens in the shadow of the gods he replaced. God and Jesus are little more than expletives to you.

Still it feels like something was taken from you and you don't know what it is??

[thedepressedweasel]

It's okay to cry and some people don't deserve to be parents

Parents who abuse their kids and then scream at them for crying are actually disgusting cunts! Doing that only teaches kids that their feelings are not valid and that they should be emotionless fighting/killing machines instead and if you do this, then you actually fail at parenting! My birthgivers still do this to me all the time because they're cunts who think crying is only for babies and weak people and when I tell them that crying is for everyone, that crying is really healthy, that crying is normal, that crying is cathartic (they just hate everything cathartic) and that it is okay to cry/be sad, they just dismiss it as "communist nonsense".

So yeah, here's a very important pro-tip for you: If you're going to have kids with the sole intention of traumatizing them like that and then scream at them for crying afterwards, DO NOT FUCKING HAVE KIDS!!!! Because you're just going to be a lousy parent and some people don't ever deserve to be parents! My birthgivers are evil and horrible trash subhuman beings who should have never had children!

[losthavenmine]

Whumptober 2023 Day 15 || Suppressed Suffering

Cinderella Man (2005)

[medico-meo]

Imagine if being heat/rut with beast TF has a greater impact on the gameplay—like, for instance, if people get handsy with you and bring you to high enough arousal you can turn the tables on them. “Is this about Harper’s physical check-up?” Yes it is indeed about just that. Near non/dubcon and breeding mention under the cut (< deranged)

The beast within you is sending you into rut.

The doctor’s cold, clinical touches melt into the heat swirling under your abdomen. You struggle to swallow the noise threatening to escape the tip of your tongue, finding your throat unbearably dry. It only gets worse as the minutes stretch on—the heavy haze steadily consumes your ability to think straight.

You notice Doctor Harper peering at your face through your blurry vision. You think he’s talking to you, but the weighty dizziness prevents you from comprehending so much as a single syllable to instead directing you to the chilled fingers slowly move away from your length—

Something inside you snaps.

No. No. No. No. No.

(1) Resist | Willpower: Impossible

(2) Give in

Your body moves on its own.

When you come to, you find Harper staring up at you impassively while being pinned to the hospital bed under your own weight. | + Stress | + Arousal

“Is there something you need?” His voice is as soothing as you can remember, if not for an imperceptible edge. | + Stress

This is a mistake. You take a deep breath and open your mouth. “Doctor, I—”

Your hand trails down his chest, unbuttons his coat, and slides under his shirt. Electrifying thrill rushes down your spine.

The beast within you yearns. | + + Stress | + + Arousal

“Doctor.” Pressing lightly against his abdomen, your primal instincts aptly hold you in thrall. “Right here. Let me breed you.”