#tw: cruelty

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty (Part 3)

I can’t sit anymore. There’s a flame in my bloodstream, and when Fiona tried to say something, the way the words sounded coming out of her mouth and the fact I had to turn my head to acknowledge her annoyed me so intensely that I had to get up and go away. I have to walk. My nose is numb. 

I end up out on the patio again, and it’s colder now that the sun has finally set and goosebumps rise all over my body. The sheen of dew across the grass looks like silver. I sit on a deck chair, and for about twenty minutes I feel very sexy, like I’m the greatest person alive. Like I’m at that Pendulum concert and I’m sitting on the shoulders of a hot boy with strong arms and everybody loves me. My nose is still numb. It runs down my cupid’s bow and I swipe it away with the back of my hand. 

The jitters hit me next, like I’ve had ten cups of coffee all at once, and I stand up to walk it off. I go down the steps to a lower level garden where there’s another glistening pool, and a group of people say hello to me as I pass them. I have the strong, all encompassing feeling that they all hate me and I consider letting myself go limp and falling right into the water. Everyone hates me. Dean hates me. Marnie, Fiona, Kelly, Claire, Jude, Jen, nobody really likes me anymore. I have to do another circuit of the garden.

I go back inside several minutes later, and nobody seems to notice me this time. They’re doing more lines, and I remember the reason I came into the house the first time. I have to pee. I try the door to the bathroom but it’s occupied, so I go upstairs. 

All of the lights are off except for one, one room at the end of the hallway with a warm yellow glow leaking out around the closed door. I go to it and I open it hoping it’s a bathroom. It isn’t, it’s a bedroom, makeup and clothes strewn all over the king sized bed, the windows wide open with long voile curtains undulating in the breeze, but there’s an ensuite. I let myself in. 

Incredible sorrow has crashed over me. It seems to have come from nowhere. I stare at my reflection in the mirror over the sink and I’m sure that I have never seen this girl before. Her skinny, frail frame, her collarbones jutting out from inside her skin, hair dried in crusty waves and eyes black as obsidian. I can feel and hear my heart thumping wildly against my ribs. I have never looked or never felt more horrible. I climb into the bath. I climb out of the bath. I stare out the tiny window over the sea and the bobbing sailboats and imagine them all capsizing and sinking into the dark waters. I imagine myself going with them. My phone goes off. It’s an Instagram notification from a stranger. I climb back into the bath again and hold my knees to my chest until I cry. 

I don’t know how long I stay in the bath, but eventually I hear two people talking in the hallway. Their voices are muffled through heavy doors, but I can hear footsteps approaching, and pretty soon I realise that it’s Marnie. Her voice is unmistakable. I try to stop myself from crying so that she won’t know I’m hiding in the ensuite. She opens the bedroom door. 

“Yeah like, did you see her face?” She’s saying. “There’s just something about the expressions she makes that pisses me off so much, like, stop frowning like that, you look like you smelled a fart.”

The other person giggles. Fiona. “She’s so annoying. She’s got such a little goblin face, it makes me want to slap her.” 

Marnie laughs and I can hear the squeak of the mattress springs as they sit on the bed. “I know.” She says covertly. “She’s actually the worst person, I don’t know what is wrong with her.”

“She gave me such a stink eye after she did that line.” Fiona tells her. ��Like, sorry for trying to talk to you? I swear to God, she makes everything so hard for herself.”

“Where did she go after that? I feel like I’ve not seen her in over an hour.”

I take in a slow, shuddering breath and hold it, terrified that they’ll hear me if I move an inch in any direction. Fiona goes on. “She’s probably in the pool again, swimming around on her own.”

“Ugh. Just get in the sea and stay there.” 

Fiona’s voice is mocking. “Did you see that she snuck off somewhere with Dean earlier?”

“No, did she?”

“Yeah they went off down the garden at one point.”

Marnie pauses for a moment. “What do you think he sees in her?”

“Are you jealous?”

“No, I’m not jealous.”

Fiona snorts. “I just don’t see the appeal, like she’s so… nothing. Like, so boring, she has no personality. I bet it’s just a sex thing.”

“I don’t see why it would be, he told me that she’s terrible in bed.” Instantly I feel the blood drain from my face, and my breath quickens so much that I have to silently cover my mouth with my hands so suppress a yelp. He told Marnie about me?

“No way.” Fiona says salaciously.

“Yeah, he said she’s so self conscious all the time, like she’s always trying to cover her body up, and she refuses to give him head.”

“Oh my God.”

“He said it was so much effort trying to get her into bed, like she practically made him date her, and it wasn’t even worth it in the end. Like, hands down, the worst sex of his life, he said.”

“Holy shit! When did he tell you this?”

“Last week after going to Dicey’s. Before I went over to his house, like.”

“What else did he say?”

“Oh just mainly that she’s the worst, she just moans and complains at him all the time, but like her house is so handy for town that it’s kind of useful to keep going over there. He also said she never cleans up.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah I know, she’s so ratty.” 

I feel like I might actually be sick, but at this point I’m too shocked to do anything but keep sitting there and hear it all, all the horrible, vile things that they’re saying about me. And, I’ve seen Fiona’s house. So much for living in a kip. I should have left as soon as they walked in, made myself known and apologised for being there, but I couldn’t. I’m so useless and entirely lacking in assertiveness that I couldn’t do what any other normal person would have done, and now I’m stuck here listening to my entire personality being torn apart by two girls who only pretended to like me for fun.

“You know what else?” Marnie says smugly, and I can almost hear her hair flipping over her shoulder. “He told me that he much prefers to be with me, that I’m much better in bed and much more interesting to talk to, and that whenever he’s with her, he wishes it was me.”

There’s a pause, and then Fiona lets out a short, sharp laugh. “You know, Marnie, he said that to me too.”

“What?”

“Yeah, when we hooked up last month he said that I was his favourite.”

“He didn’t.”

“He did!”

Marnie scoffs in outrage. “I can’t- He’s a lying little rat bastard then.”

“I thought that was obvious. Did you believe him when he said that thing to you? I didn’t, I was like, for sure he’s saying this to the other two as well.”

“I had him first.” Marnie says with a tremor in her voice. “We’ve been hooking up since the snowstorm, months before anyone else. I’m the main one.”

“I don’t know what to say, Marns. You’re hardly emotionally invested in him at this point, are you?”

“Come on, as if. I just don’t like being messed around like that.”

“I thought that was the deal.”

“I… God I’m really pissed off at him.”

Fiona chuckles. “That’s the name of the game, don’t play with fire if you don’t want-”

“I know that.” Marnie snaps. “It just seems unnecessary to compare us to one another.”

“Sounds like you’re not really able for it, so.”

“I’m able for it.” 

“You just have to be the favourite then, is it?”

Marnie says nothing for a long moment, and I find myself wondering what kind of face she’s making out there, despite the utter turmoil and nausea I’m feeling in this bathroom. 

“Dean’s not a normal guy.” Fiona says eventually. “I don’t think he has real normal, human feelings. Do you really think he likes you?”

Another silence so deathly that I wonder if I’ve actually passed out from holding my breath. “Of course not.” She blurts out agitatedly. “I’m not stupid.”

Fiona laughs. “Alright well, that’d explain the steam coming out of your ears then.”

“Oh shut up, you’re so fucking annoying. I’m going back downstairs.”

“Okay I’ll come too. Do you think Dean will still have bag?”

“Probably not. Just like him to only buy a hundred euros worth.” 

They leave, and the closed door immediately muffles the rest of their conversation. I let all the breath I’ve been holding out of me in a rush, accompanied by a torrent of quaking sobs. I hug my knees to my chest and cry for at least ten minutes, shoulder shaking, stomach convulsing cries that make me think I’m going to start getting sick, but eventually they ease into breathless crying, and I swipe at my cheeks, my fingers coming away from my face grey with wet makeup. I climb out of the bath and catch sight of myself in the mirror again. Such an ugly crier. I take toilet paper off the roll on the wall and dab my face clean, and then rip my crooked false eyelashes off. They sit in the sink like a pair of dead spiders and I don’t bother to clean them up.

This whole time, none of these people have liked me at all. They’ve all been laughing at me behind my back, saying awful things to each other and casually tearing me to shreds, and yet I find myself furious that I never figured it out before. Of course they’re like this, it’s in the way that Marnie talks about Fiona when she isn’t there, the way Dean talks about them both, the glee they showed when I’d done the same. Was I a fool to think that they weren’t treating me the very same way when my back was turned? The details of my intimate life, things that I thought were personal to Dean and I reduced to this. I really am so stupid. A stupid, ugly girl who doesn’t mean anything to anyone.

I look at my phone, no messages as usual. No updates from Claire, no silly jokes from Jude, because neither have spoken to me in almost a month. One because she is tired of me, the other because I forced him to leave me alone. I know I have ruined all my relationships for this vicious coven, these vampires that they both warned me about, and now it’s too late to take anything back. The clock on my screen leers at me, two in the morning. It’s too late to get the bus back into town now, and I don’t have any money to get a taxi. I know I’ll have to sleep here. 

Somewhere downstairs is a bag I packed for the night, a hoodie inside it that I want so badly to wrap myself in now, the sea air that drifts in from the ajar window is licking up my arms and making me shiver. I leave the bathroom and head back down the stairs quietly, only to collide instantly with Dean at the bottom.

“Where were you?” He says. He has one arm on the wall as he leans over Leanne, Leanne who he’s said is boring and has bad posture, but they look very cosy now, her small, five foot frame making him appear very tall for once, and I’m sure he likes it that way.

“Move out of my way.” I order. “You’re blocking the stairs.”

“What’s wrong with you?” He scrunches up his face, and that horrible look ignites some sort of vicious rage inside me. I shove him so hard that he stumbles backwards a bit. “Move.”

“For fucks sake, what?”

I shoulder past him, and the quickest way to get away from him is to go out the front door, so I do. I yank it open and march down the front steps, throwing it shut behind me, but it doesn’t have a chance to slam because Dean wedges his foot between it and the doorframe, and then he’s coming out after me. 

“You are mental, did you know that?” He doesn’t say it angrily, just like it’s a boring fact.

I turn around to look at him, and he’s hateful. A poisonous, wicked man with dead emotionless eyes. “You’ve been sleeping with Marnie and Fiona.” I say accusingly, and his reaction is striking, so unbothered. He just shakes his head and shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

“They’re my friends.”

“So what? I’m single. If someone wants to get with me I’m not going to pass up the opportunity.”

“You never told me.”

“You didn’t ask.” 

I’m thrown by how he’s saying these completely outrageous things with such nonchalance. All I can do is scoff.

“I’m not your boyfriend.” He reminds me. “I can do whatever I want.”

“Were you were sleeping with Marnie before you even showed up at my house and gave me that Mulan book as a gift?”

“Dunno. I can’t remember.”

“Well she said you were! You put in so much effort to get me to talk to you again, and meanwhile you were already hooking up with my friend. Why did you do that? Why couldn’t you just let me keep ignoring you?”

He looks at me calmly. “Because I wanted you.” I stare back wordlessly until he’s forced to continue. “You made it a fun challenge, I don’t know. You have such a tight, sexy little body, I wanted to see if I could get my hands on it.”

“So it was a game.”

“You were playing hard to get, like, I was interested in that. Wasn’t it fun for you too? Getting to be chased around?”

“And you didn’t think about how I might have felt?”

He stares at me for a moment and then a pitying laugh breaks through on his stoic face. “Oh, you really like me, is it?”

My face heats up, and whatever look I’m wearing on it makes him laugh even more. “Oh, Jesus.” He says. “Sorry about that, didn’t know you were one of them girls that can’t hack casual.”

“You told me lies.” I say. “You said that you didn’t like Marnie and Fiona.”

“That wasn’t a lie, I don’t like them, none of this is about like.”

“And you told me that you thought I was different, that I wasn’t like them and yet you’ve been treating me exactly-”

“Did you believe that?” He interrupts, and then barks out an empty laugh. “You actually think you’re different? That all three of you aren’t just as bad as each other, just vicious, shallow bitches? Three versions of the same person. Nah, I don’t feel bad for any of you. I can hardly even tell you apart.”

“I-” I feel tears welling up in my eyes again. How is it possible that I keep feeling worse and worse as the night goes on? It’s like the real rock bottom is actually one hundred feet below where I thought it was. 

“Oh.” He pouts. “Are you getting upset?”

“I hate you.”

“Oh come on, you don’t, not by the way you felt when I had my hand in your-“

“Shut up. Don’t talk to me like that anymore.” I say through gritted teeth.

“Are you going to cry now? Just give me a tear. Make my day.” He steps in closer to me so he can look right at me, eyes level with mine, big and black with maniacal excitement. He terrifies me. I can’t believe I’ve let this man into my house, that he’s seen me naked. Those things feel like they happened to other people now. 

“Leave me alone.”  

“You’re actually like a child.” He tells me. 

“You took advantage of me.”

“You were a bit stupid. When you leave yourself open like that, what do you expect? You make it too easy for people. Actually, I probably did you a favour. At least you’ve learned not to be so stupid in future.”

I think back on everything. How he poked and prodded and negged and tested my boundaries every step of the way, just for fun, to see if he could. I was a fool from the very start not to have seen it. 

I take a deep breath and try to force myself not to cry. “I’d like it if you left me alone now.” and he gives me a huge smile, cocking his head to the side like he’s looking endearingly at a kitten. “You going to hike home now or what? Maybe your best friend Marnie will spot you a few quid for a taxi if you ask nicely.”

“I just want you to leave me alone.”

He nods towards the beach on the other side of the Martello tower, and the waves crashing against the shore is the only other sound apart from my heavy breathing. “Why don’t you get in for a little swim? Might calm you down.” 

I just glare at him silently, and then he rocks back on his heels and saunters across the path and back up the steps towards the house. “I suppose I’ll see you in September.” He gives me a big wide, dead eyed smile. “Have a great summer.” He ducks back into the house and shuts the door behind him. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[ncafterdark]

Kinktober 2023

Day 29: Hiro/Ivarr--Breathplay

*****

It had started gradually, the man’s hand brushing his neck—an expression of intrigued appraisal, as if musing how well it would fit. He’s not accustomed to feeling delicate, not anymore but he looks it in comparison, Ivarr’s fingers nearly meeting where they rest, cybernetics icy against flushed skin. Seeing how he’d react, he’d dug them in, a gleeful smile as he’d leaned into it, eyes slipping shut, blissfully silent for a change. 

“If I’d known it was this easy to shut you up, I’d have done it sooner.” 

The retort is almost automatic, part indignant, part flustered—caustic words dying on his tongue, the man’s grip tightening for a moment, not cutting off his air entirely, a warning in everything but words. He hates how easily his body responds to it, adrenaline and need that drives every coherent thought out of his mind—save for the man and raw sensation, addicted to the thrill they both bring. 

“Think I could get you off like this?” 

He knows better than to answer, that he’d just have his words turned against him or denied entirely. Nor does he think he could, even if he wanted to—disagreement simply for the sake of it, even if he’s secretly wondering too. 

He grips the man’s wrist, blue eyes meeting winter—a shaky smile, confidence even with a hand around his throat. “M’not gonna break. Harder.” 

It’s the prompt Ivarr had been waiting for, arrogant certainty, that he knew him, knew what he liked even better than he did sometimes. 

“Ask nice.”

“Choke me, or I’ll find some other gonk to do it.” 

He feels the man pause—hand slackening, tension in the air enough he could pluck at it, chances a glance at him from beneath his lashes. Ivarr’s expression is inscrutable, and it’s infinitely more worrying than seeing him angry, finding his way to the bait he’s left out.

“You’re not gonna do that. Not gonna be enough. They’re gonna have my face, Kitten and you know it.”

Ivarr’s other hand goes to cup him, traitorously hard, pressure on his throat tightening again. It sends a hot spike of pleasure through him, a raspy moan that the man drinks in, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He doesn’t have a response but his body might as well be doing it for him, chasing every fleeting touch, every point of contact. 

“Go on then. Beg.” 

—

(Ft. @dreamskug's Ivarr 🖤🖤)

[mourningreveries]

Closed Starter for: @fadedstarsfms

Location: Old Tallow House, Hidden Hills

The demolition of the Old Tallow House was long overdue; and not just because it had not been properly occupied for several centuries, and had fallen into abysmal disrepair either. For Lincoln, it stood as a testament to the life that he'd led before he'd been turned and had began his true life. It was the site of where he had suffered unspeakable cruelty and had experienced only a brief taste of love before it had been ripped away from him. As he glanced around at the old walls, he could practically see the shadow of his eldest brother, ready to lash his back, silhouetted against them, and could almost feel the fear and hatred that he'd experienced in those moments as clearly as he had felt them then. As he moved throughout the remains of the once great house, he found that the stains of blood still remained from when he'd taken his revenge, and perhaps that was why he had waited so long to have the house torn down; because for all the pain that he'd experienced there, it was also the site of his greatest triumph.

He heard the sound of the door downstairs creek open, and he knew that it could only be one person, because only one person had been informed that this was where he would be. As he came to the staircase, an easy grin found its way to his lips as he found himself looking upon the face of his best friend. "I wasn't sure if you were going to make it; I sent one of the demolition crew into town to find you, and get you to come over here as soon as you could, but the demolition is set to start in about ten minutes, so I was just starting to think you were going to miss it." He explained with a nod and a shrug as he made his way down the stairs. "I wanted you to be here for this. I'm coming back to Raven's Peak; to stay. And if I'm going to stay, then it's about time I let the last remaining relic of my old life here die, and build something new where it once stood."

[firedragonx]

So I re-read The Warrior by Erin Hunter Review

Tw: animal death and cruelty There are four clans of cats living in the forest. Thunderclan is going through hard times after a defeat from Riverclan. So when house cats go into their woods they often ask the cat Rusty to join them. I remember this book was a good induction to the series as it set its world and characters pretty well. The plot is very slowly built but in a way that feels natural. But the main problem and this is ongoing in the series is miscommunication that even forces and makes the characters stupid. But on the audiobook side, I like MacLeod Andrew’s’ voice actor. He gives the characters different voices for the main cast at least. And he is great at getting your attention. Overall I give it an 8/10

[incorrectbatfam]

Damian: My grandfather is in the backyard stabbing the ground with his sword trying to render the soil barren by killing the worms but luckily my sister has trained them all in classical ballet and they keep pirouetting away from the blade.

[whomeidontknowthem]

I met a dog with surgically partially removed vocal cords to soften her barking, which was also the time I learned that such a thing was possible.

After researching, I've reached a conclusion: it should be done to more whumpees.

Yours is too loud? Their screams are ringing in your ears? You're tired of listening to their rants, but enjoy their pleading enough to want to leave them some voice?

Perform devocalization on them today to ensure they never manage anything more than a husky whisper!

[tothepointofinsanity]

Corporate angel.

Yet another elaborate shitpost.

[wilwheaton]

Animal cruelty is so far out of bounds, it’s become shorthand in fiction for telling the audience that a character is morally bankrupt, cruel, a bully, etc.

When you introduce a character and say "he just kicked a puppy", the whole audience knows that this guy is absolute shit and a deeply terrible person.

It’s not surprising that it’s now become a core Republican value, taking its place beside their misogyny, homophobia, and racism. What is surprising is how proud of it they are, how loudly they brag about it, how quick they are to circle the wagons around a woman who proudly bragged about killing a puppy she hated.

This whole thing is a perfect summation of what it means to be a Republican: a helpless animal that she failed to train displeased her, so instead of putting any effort into changing that, her first and only response was to kill it. Then, she was so fueled by traditional right wing bloodlust, she killed a goat, too. Why put in any effort of any kind, when violence is an option? Always choose violence; it’s the Republican way. She is proudly declaring that she hated a puppy, so she killed it.

She didn’t even consider rehoming these animals. Instead, she reveled in hurting and killing them. She’s proud of it. She’d do it again. She doesn’t care that this is repugnant to decent people, because the only person she cares about is the one she is hoping will pick her thanks to her loud, proud, enthusiastic admission that she is as much of a piece of shit as he is.

[koirankusema666]

Animal abuse is not an aesthetic. Learn to read animal body language. Learn to treat animals like living beings deserving of respect. Call out abuse of animals when you see it.

I see lots of therians especially with these aesthetic blogs, not naming any by name but I'm pretty sure y'all know what kinda blogs I'm talking about. It's not even about pics of gore or death, yes that too, but sharing pictures of animals in distress in general is not a mood you should romanticize?

It's like when people purposefully harass their pets until they hiss, growl or bite at you just to get aesthetic pics or likes on the internet... If that was a mistreated human child telling you to stop y'all wouldn't be sharing that shit.

[oblique-lane]

"Just a bunch more biblical paintings then I'll go back to drawing yaoi" Or you can do both, renaissance style, Michelangelo or Raphael I honestly forgot who drew those naked men on the Sistine Chapel's ceilings ok bad joke aside: I'd love hearing more about your headcannons, specifically about the childhoods of the characters (ranging from the mercs, to Miss pauling, the Administrator, hell anyone you have ideas about!)

Childhood headcanons... How did you know I've had something about that on my mind? Alright, let's talk about...

Little Sniper

(Lots of trigger warnings ahead, check tags!)

Mundy was obviously an unhappy child. When I imagine the surroundings he grew up in, I see miles and miles of empty landscapes, dry yellow grass, unkept barns destroyed by rust and a deep choking sense of loneliness.

The closest neighbour woul be so far away you better bring a bicycle with you if you want to visit. School and Church were the only places to go, which were also very far away. No kids his age nearby. And even if there were peers at school, no one wanted him anyway.

Mundy was "weird", he didn't quite understand other kids' jokes, didn't get what was so fun about what everyone else enjoying to do; he was weaker, always loosing in close fights; he didn't even look very local for whatever reason. Even if he tried to get along with someone, it either ended up with him being ostracized or with him experiencing the greatest boredom imaginable. And the kids quickly picked up on his "difference", making him an object of bullying.

It started with making fun of everything Mundy does, his habits and speech patterns, his morals and ideas... Which wasn't anything too big for him but it was still very annoying and upsetting, he grew to hate school very quickly.

Coming home being exhausted from this kind of socializing, no one would really comfort him. Being very little, he used to tell on his bullies to his parents, telling how hurt he was by their words... And it would only made a mess in his family.

Overreactive mother: "Poor baby, I'm so sorry, I'll tell their parents to stop being mean, my little little baby, maybe we can go homeschooling..."

And a strict father: "Are you a man or what? Yeah, he will end up a bloody baby if you keep spoiling him like that! Suck it up! Of you can't stand for yourself, no one will. At this pace you'll end up a nobody, with no home nor respect from the world".

Mundy didn't want to be neither a baby nor a disappointment. He figured that sharing his feelings with parents wouldn't be that good of an idea, they won't understand anyway. And also that he must fight somehow.

If he can't win in close fights, he thought, he could hit them from a distance: throwing small rocks at the bullies from up the tree...

–He was punished for that. For some reason, every time Mundy fought back, he was scolded by the elders, who for some reason always believed the bullies that HE was the one starting the fights. They forbid him to fight back. He closed his feelings shut and stopped paying attention to almost everything around him.

Why was it like that? Why was he so different from other kids, why couldn't he understand them? Why couldn't he understand anyone in this world? The world was a mess of unspoken rules and suffering, overcoming oneself, pain; he couldn't fit in. He was always on the wrong even if he didn't do anything. He felt like an outsider everywhere he went.

Sometimes he wondered if he was born into a wrong family or that he wasn't a human at all. Looking at the night sky, he was thinking about aliens, maybe they would come to him someday and take him to the planet he truly belongs, being accidentally swapped at birth. Maybe then he will be happy, he will leave this sickening place and finally start living. He thought about dying, too.

He started to spend a lot of time in the forest any chance he got. He was alone here, unwatched, somewhat free. It was easier to breathe here. He was alone but it didn't feel worse than being with those people. He played by himself. He started to believe that he actually liked loneliness.

As Mundy and his peers grew older, the kids started to become more and more savage, thanks to the hormones and age crisis. Bullying intensified as those kids started to feel the need to assert themselves. Mundy was maliciously beaten (he fought back as much as he could and even win sometimes, but the beating only got worse each time). They used any chance to humiliate him.

And each time after that Mundy would take the knife or his father's shotgun and go to the forest to take his anger on animals, "hunting", since he couldn't do anything to fix the root of the problem.

He would hunt for something small, like birds or feral rabbits so he could butcher them and cook on fire to eat. At moments like this he felt like a beast, and somehow it was the most pleasant state for him to be in.

There were no words available to form his pain into, so the pain came through violence. The more violent his abusers became, the more violent he was at his "hunting". The more he felt his father's gaze piercing him with disappointment, the sharper his knife movements would get. Sometimes he would let the bodies to just rot like that, completely butchered in a very non-culinary way.

(Maybe someday he would lure one of those bastards to the forest and kill him the same way and blame it on an animal attack)

And at some point... His classmates would came up with something that would cross all the lines of forgivable. Somewhere there was the peak of what they could do. Something beyond.

There wasn't a known way to him to deal with that. No known words. Everyone would be so grossed out of him if they knew. He was beyond disgusted with himself, too. What was the point of living now?

That day he would shot a wild boar, take his machete out and cut it open, butcher it the way his father would when they wanted a pork dinner for the night... And reached to its heart.

The heart is where the love is stored, right? That's what people say when referring to this "love" he'd never seem to know. A dark read bloody organ that feels like sponge inside of thin rubber. There's something about this that Mundy lacks. He has a heart too, it's pulsating inside him, but for some reason it was unable to produce the "love", a very necessary fluid for a human body. He wondered if it's sweet. He wondered if he was even able to taste it.

He took a bite... And realized what he was doing.

He was, indeed, a monster.

When he went back home, later than usual, he would be met with his father's gaze. He was always throwing gazes, for every occasion, Mundy was used to feel small and guilty under them. But this time... It felt somehow much more personal. More disturbing.

His father looked at him as if he was a dirty little creature, a rat, a maggot. He looked at him the way one would look at a criminal who wronged their whole family. He looked at him like he knew.

His father didn't say anything that day and it wasn't brought up ever again.

Mundy was indeed a monster who was utterly terrified of this though. He didn't want to be one. He made a promise to himself that everything he does will be morally justified, he promised himself to become a good... decent person. He would earn his place in the world, even if his father, everyone else denies it.

It gets blurry at this point. Sniper doesn't really remember his life before about 17, when he was finishing school and starting to work on his sniper licence. For some reason he always knew he would be good at shooting and killing. When remembering his home, Sniper would recall the smell of grass, mother's cooking, the warm sun, and a steady life he had. He knew it was boring, but it still somehow felt like home. Home he felt was lost somewhere he didn't remember.

Either way, he was always a loner.

[radicalfemimist]

I don’t think we as a society talk nearly enough about how intricately connected cats and women are. cats are associated with women so heavily, not just in English but in other languages as well. the stereotype of the ‘crazy cat lady’, the fact words to refer to cats are often also used to refer to female genitalia, ‘cat fight’, ‘catty’, etc.

Cats have suffered alongside women, too, which is not something I have seen brought up. Cats were targeted during the Witch Hunts as well, and suffered similar fates as the women they hunted. During this time, cats were nearly driven to extinction, and the mice and rat population go out of control— which is believed to have heavily contributed if not outright caused one of the most famous plagues.

To this day, I think we need to analyze if it’s truly a coincidence that cats are often portrayed as mean or uncaring because they do not behave the same way as dogs— “man’s best friend”— that their boundaries are violated for fun and then people criticize the cat for reacting, for self-defense. They will mutilate a cat so it cannot defend itself, and then abandon it when it is understandably upset, when it can no longer feel safe.

If you look at the statistics, more cats enter animal shelters than dogs, and tend to stay for longer. Personally, my local humane societies seem to have almost exclusively cats. In part, this is because cats are more effective at reproducing than dogs, and there are very little if any resources dedicated to to TNR. This is also because people will not spay/neuter their cats, and then will abandon the cat and/or just the kittens.

I do not think it is entirely coincidental that cats are so heavily associated with women, and they are villainized for not being dogs. That dogs are called “man’s best friend”, but somehow that does not mean cats are called “women’s best friend”— instead diamonds are, for whatever reason, despite women’s shared history with cats, and shared experience of being villainized for having boundaries. They are made the villain for being cats instead of dogs, they are called uncaring and “assholes” because the way they show love is not identical to the way a dog does.

I feel like there is no way it is entirely coincidental, the way cats are hated and the way they are so heavily associated with women, with females.

[ncafterdark]

Kinktober 2023

Day 16: Hiro/Dagger/Ivarr--Public

*****

“Keep a better eye on this one.” 

Ivarr isn’t escorted out, as much as he’s dropped into his arms, a shiny bruise already forming on his cheek. 

“Thanks.” The bouncer jumps visibly, the third member of their little group strolling out from behind him, smugly self-satisfied, as if this was entirely his orchestrating. “We can take him from here.” 

“Not taking me anywhere.” 

Realizing that they’re more trouble than they’re worth, the bouncer stalks back towards the club, an annoyed wave of his hand. 

He waits until the man goes back inside before rounding on the two of them.

“Really? I liked that place.”

Ivarr’s expression sharpens—impossible to be mistaken for kindness, despite the delicate grip he has on him. 

“Didn’t like how he was looking at you.” 

“He was looking at both of you gonks. Hoping he didn’t have to rescue the poor bastard.” 

Even as he argues, he’s aware he’s being led, shoulder to shoulder with the two of them, a sheltered alley behind the club, allows him to be pressed back against Dagger, leaning into his touch, the man’s arm slipping around his waist easily, voice silky against his ear. 

“Rescue? As if you didn’t want us.” 

And he knows, as much as he’d like to argue, tell them they’re wrong, be petulant for the sake of it, he can’t school his voice into something convincing—knows they’d be able to tell he’s lying the second it left his lips. He isn’t given a chance to speak, lips captured in a bruising kiss, Ivarr’s leg slotting between his knees, something he can’t help but grind against. There’s a risk of getting caught, and it just makes it all the sweeter—the idea of being on display for anyone else to see. Ivarr tugs away, a gleam in his eyes. “Felt you twitch brat. Go on, tell us what you’re thinking of.” 

“Got kicked out, remember?” 

“We’re not in the club anymore. He can’t do shit.” 

A set of hands explore under his shirt, a hiss at the rush of cold against his skin, cybernetics an icy contrast, heat sparking at the tug on a piercing. 

“Go on, Kitten, you had so much to say before”

It’s simultaneously too much, and not enough, caught between them, able to read him effortlessly—almost better than he can. 

The sound of fabric tearing hits his ears, night air chilly against his bare thighs—an indignant, furious noise slipping out.

“Suit you better this way.” 

—

(Ft. @dreamskug's Ivarr and @wraithsoutlaws's Dagger 🖤🖤)

[mourningreveries]

IN CHARACTER 

FULL NAME: Lincoln Moreau. This is not his birthname; he adopts a new name after every Rule of 500 rest (More on this in the bio below) SPECIES: Vampire AGE: Very old DATE OF BIRTH: Actual birth date unknown, celebrates his turning date, which is December 24th GENDER IDENTITY: Cis-Male NEIGHBORHOOD: Hidden Hills OCCUPATION: Investor WORKPLACE: Moreau Investments POSITIVE TRAITS: Charming, Ambitious, Charismatic NEGATIVE TRAITS: Vengeful, Hedonistic, Unforgiving LENGTH OF TIME IN RAVEN’S PEAK: Originally from Raven’s Peak, but has not been back in centuries…UNTIL NOW (Dun dun dun!) FACE CLAIM: Charles Michael Davis

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGER WARNING: Abuse, cruelty, murder, illness, drug use, alcohol use

Lincoln Moreau’s claim of being The First Progeny, a title he has proudly worn for most of his existence, is a hard one to dispute; he may not be the very first vampire to ever be sired from a member of the Original family, but he also very well may be, and he most certainly is amongst the first vampires to ever be created. What is known for certain, is that Lincoln was the very first vampire that Victor Morgrave ever turned, and the gift which was bestowed upon him is not one that he took for granted. 

To understand why the man who would become Lincoln Moreau would embrace vampirism so vehemently, it is important to understand where he came from. The conditions that he’d been living in prior to the change had been less than ideal, though the less diplomatic would go as far as to say they were cruel. Things had started off well enough; he’d been adopted into a great house as a young boy, and loved by the father, who had taken him in off the street, at least as much as he loved the children who were of his bloodline, if not a little bit more so. But when the father passed away of illness and the eldest brother, who had always hated Lincoln and resented him for how much of his father’s affection he received, became the man of the house, Lincoln’s treatment underwent a dramatic shift. Though allowed to stay, he was forced to live in the stables with the horses, and made to carry out both the most physically demanding, and morally demeaning of tasks imaginable, whilst also suffering from terrible physical and verbal torment at the hands of the eldest sibling. Worst of all though, was the fact that he was forbidden from being social with the other siblings, whom he had been raised as kin with, and eventually, out of fear of their brother if they did not, they too turned cruel towards Lincoln. He was treated worse than should be allowable by one’s humanity, and year over year, as he lived a life without a single moment of pleasure, his rage, his bitterness, and his resentment grew; and he swore one day he would have his revenge.

What I failed to mention is that this supposed “great house” which Lincoln had once been welcomed into, but he was now basically a prisoner in, was located in the town of Raven’s Peak during the days of The Four Families, prior to the splitting of the stone which would change the world forever. And it was during this time that Lincoln first came into contact with the man who would go on to be one of the four original vampires, Victor Morgrave. Victor had been visiting the house to attend to some business with the eldest brother, when the brother brought him out to the stables to show him his favourite pastime; tormenting Lincoln. Even then, when Victor himself was a rather selfish and arrogant man, seeing the treatment of Lincoln stirred feelings of pity within him, and though he did not try to put a stop to the treatment that day, he never forgot about what the elder brother had done, nor the pain that Lincoln had suffered. 

And so, when the all too familiar tale of the rock splitting the witches being changed unfolded, and Victor Morgrave now found himself to be a vampire, he remembered what Lincoln had gone through, and, driven by an instinct that he did not understand, he knew that to offer Lincoln his blood was to offer him a chance at not only liberation, but the revenge that he so greatly desired. 

With his new power, Lincoln exacted his revenge upon the family that had made his life Hell on Earth for so many years. Then, with justice done, he found himself contemplating what to do next. He stayed in Raven’s Peak for a time, becoming the new master of the house that he had been thrown out of doors from as a young child. But as satisfying as this was, he soon found himself growing bored of the life that he had once desired to have more than anything, and filled with a desire to explore the world beyond Raven’s Peak, and see what it had to offer him.

As it turns out, the world beyond had more to offer him than he ever could have imagined was possible. For a man who had spent most of his life enduring unbearable abuse, to discover how many pleasures the world contained was an intoxicating experience, often times quite literally, and he found himself indulging in all of it, perhaps, on some level, trying to make up for lost time.

But as the years wore on and the truth of his eternal existence set in as being the reality he was now facing, Lincoln decided that the best thing he could do for himself was give himself some reprieve from the world; and the best thing he could do for the world was give it some reprieve from him. He never wanted the pleasure he derived from the world to wane or dwindle; he wanted to enjoy it all every bit as much for the rest of his eternal existence as he had the very first time. And so he instituted The Rule of 500, which decreed that every 500 years, he would lay down and sleep for a century, so that he would be able to awaken and find the world new and young and beautiful again.

Since then, the man who calls himself The First Progeny has built himself an empire. What began as a desire to invest in the ventures of people that he saw potential in, soon grew to become a full fledged investment business, which has had its hands and funds involved in helping to nurture some truly remarkable, not to mention many highly lucrative, companies, organizations, artists, and in one case, even a kingdom. What’s more, in cases where both loyalty and excellence are exhibited, Lincoln has bestowed the gift of immortality upon those whose interests align with his own; something which he considers to be the most sacred of investment that he can make in a person. With the fortune which he has accumulated, and the massive network of loyal partners that he’s sired for himself, there’s almost nothing that Lincoln can’t have if he wants it; and he wants it all. Though all should beware, that if you intend to make friends with Lincoln, don’t ever consider letting him down, and especially not betraying him; because Lincoln Moreau does not forgive those who disappoint him, and those who betray him? Well, let’s just put it this way: Lincoln’s entire life as a vampire has been ruled by the endless pursuit of pleasure, and nothing, absolutely nothing, brings him greater pleasure than exacting revenge on those who have betrayed or done wrong to him.

Now, Lincoln leaves behind what has been his home for the past two centuries, New Orleans, to return to Raven’s Peak for the first time since he left countless centuries ago. While he’s certain that being back will stir some memories that would be better buried deep, he can’t help but be curious to see how the place has changed in his time away, and he hopes that, perhaps, he can create some new, happier memories that will redefine what his birthplace as a vampire means within his mind.

[teaboot]

Kitten story that Just Happened Literally a Day Ago:

I was at my uncles house in the middle of bumfuck nowhere zoning out and staring at nothing when I zone back in to realize there’s a suspicious car throwing something in the ditch, the car speeds off like a bat out of hell and as I keep staring I see whatever was thrown MOVES and I take off running full tilt down the driveway to grab it.

It was a little black kitten. Someone had thrown a kitten out of their car on a country road. He’s super skinny but fully socialized and an absolute love bug.

If I had a nickel for every time I or a close friend witnessed someone hyuck a kitten out a car window and then acquired said kitten for ourselves I would have two nickels.

I don't normally recommend calling the cops but if you can describe the vehicle, time, and location I would place a report of animal cruelty on non-emergency

That is a recommendation I am making out of vindictive rage

I would like to give a happy congratulations to lighten the mood now but I'm actually very angry so I'm going to go hold my boy and wish you the best

[incorrectbatfam]

Stephanie: Isn't it weird that people kill mosquitoes just because they're annoying? Like, if people did that to other people I would've died years ago.

[masterrainb0w]

They MUST make plushies of Arlo NOW!!!