#Walk-In Incubators

[hmgindiaseo]

Environmental Chamber Manufacturer

[justv0id]

Queen Mother Danny Vlad???

I see a lot of people lumping Mother!Danny + King!Danny together, but what if I put Vlad in his place?

Enjoy my madness!

(And this AU of mine also serves as a prompt, so you can write a fic using my post as a base if you give me credit, oh, and tag me too please, I'll love reading what you write, the more the better!)

So many things happened in a period of time that was way too small for everything.

Because of the GIW's influence, the children of Amity Park were handed over to the government by their own parents.

Everyone in that damned hell of a city was Liminal to some degree, but the children were too much ecto-contaminated.

Too much for the government to consider them human anymore.

Too much to be treated like children.

More than enough to be treated like monsters.

More than enough to be treated as experiments.

Objects.

Not sapient

Not human.

Not anymore.

Vlad was slowly redeeming himself with the Dannies and Team Phantom before all this, Jazz was happy to be able to get a lot of psychology experience in a therapy routine with him, let's just say that his harmfull stalker/psychopath obsession was treated and reversed into a healthy ghost obsession.

He even started to get attached to them+the Casper High kids, since it was an open secret at the school that the Fenton guy was the hero Phantom, and they were part of Team Phantom Extended.

Without him and the children realizing, they all ended up forming a Fraid, becoming interconnected. You could call it... Found Family, but they won't(Yet).

So imagine what it was like for Vlad when he simply knew that each of the children was feeling such a pain. A pain so strong, so nauseating, so paralyzing like THIS?

He didn't even think twice, he just transformed and went straight to the GIW's main base, massacring any agent he found.

And, Vlad may have seen and done some very disgusting and/or evil things to get his fortune or whatever, but when he saw the state the children were in, instantly knowing everything that had happened to them, it took a lot of his power to stay strong and not vomit until he spat out his own organs.

GIW owes it the audacity to pursue a project to induce the children to become halfas, forcing them to undergo several painful near-death experiences while bathed in ectoplasm, just eight kids managed to survive and become halfas, all the other children from the entire city of Amity Park died in the experiments, only eleven remained counting with the Dannies, only eleven, all the others ARE DEATH

How could they do this to children!?

How could they do this to THEIR OWN CHILDREN!?

HOW DARE YOU THEY DO THIS TO HIS THE CHILDREN!?

TO HIS CHILDREN

HIS FRAID

His babys

《♠︎♥︎◆♣︎》

In an instant, all 30 agents and scientists in the wing were torn apart and dismembered by a feral, savage Vlad, bent on revenge.

But he had to control himself, he needs to take care of his the kids first.

He headed for the ecto tank closest to him, shattering the reinforced glass with a punch and hugging Dan's unconscious body as the ectoplasm contained within spilled onto the floor.

"D-Dan, badger, come on, wake up-" He hated how shaky his voice sounded, he needed to take care of the children, he couldn't even think about being vulnerable right now. "Dan, please, please" But he couldn't help but grow more and more worried as the seconds passed.

The boy from the future coughed several times, spitting out green as he slowly opened his eyes. "O-old man?" Dan questioned hoarsely. "W-What the fuck a-are you doing here!- You n-need to l-leave-" He growled, trying to sit up, but failing 'cause of his weak, battered, and malnourished body.

Vlad just pulled the boy closer, rubbing circles on his back. "No, I'm going to get you out of here, all of you, it's going to be okay-" It won't, but he wants and needs to find a way, he can feel that Dan's body is going to melt from destabilization soon, and the other kids' bodies will do the same if they get out of the tanks, what can he do to stop that from happening?

He cannot fail them.

He can't leave them alone!

HE CAN'T ABANDON THEM! Not like Jack and Maddie did to him!

Vlad blinks twice as a neon green note appears before his eyes.

incubating will help, sorry I can't say anything more than that. —CW

Incubate? What does that mean-

oh.

Oh.

He turned to Dan, holding his shoulders. "Dan, you need to pull yourself into your core." The young man looked at him in confusion. "W-why the h-hell-" his indignation was interrupted by another bout of coughing, green and red dripping from his lips. "Calm down, it'll be okay, I promise, I'll take care of all of you." Vlad comforted, steadying Dan's shoulders.

"You-" He spat between coughs, eyes widening with silent realization. "No! *cooff* Y-You can't do that! T-There are *cooff* too many of us! It'll drain you too much!" The coughing got worse as he forced himself to raise his voice.

Vlad sighed, pulling the boy even closer to his chest. "Dan, please, it's the only way, I'll be fine." He tried to convince him, but Dan's narrowed gaze proved it wasn't working. "Badger, you've only been stable this far cuz you're a mix of the strength of two, the others won't last nearly as long, there's nothing else we can do, please, just retreat into your core so I can get you out of here, please, please..."

The younger tried to open his mouth to protest, but only more coughing, green and red came out. He buried his face in Vlad's neck, breathing hard and shaking. "D-don't you dare die and leave us..." He growled, hands gripping tightly onto the older man. "I would never do that, badger..." Vlad replied in a soft tone, a small, weak smile curling his lips.

Dan's body shrank, finally retracting into the core, Vlad then placed him inside, standing up and moving on to the next tank.

Danny was as battered and malnourished as Dan, his body shaking as he coughed and his eyes flew open. "V-Vlad...!?" He asked scaredly in a weak voice. "It's going to be okay little badger, I'll take care of everything, I just need you to retreat into your core okay? I'll help you with that..." He explained in a calm voice, rubbing circles on his back.

His eyes were filled with pain and worry as he pulled closer. "But..." he tried to protest. "It'll be okay, please, Daniel." He begged, knowing he'd convinced Danny when he sighed. "Just be careful..." He begged, as he followed Vlad's unspoken instructions on how to retract into the core.

Sam and Tucker managed to wake, but they were too weak to speak. And the others were not as strong as the four to wake up or speak.

But one way or another, Vlad placed each of their cores inside himself to protect them.

A bit of the consequences were immediate, with the slight dizziness he felt, 11 cores + his was a lot.

Shaking off the discomfort, he used intangibility to leave the base, but not before making sure that when he left, the place exploded.

Now he just needed to go to Fentonworks, the portal in his mansion was deactivated, so he needed to get to the Fentons' laboratory to go to the 'Zone, and he would still have to make sure that the portal disappeared too.

There was little left, just a little.

He carefully descended the basement steps, stopping in shock when he came across Maddie and Jack, armed and performing an experiment. They were so relaxed after handing over their children to GIW and persuading everyone else to do the same thing huh?

Guns were pointed at him in an instant. "You! Damned ghost! You'll pay for possessing Vladdie's body and helping your ward do the same to Danny!" Jack exclaimed, fingers on the trigger.

"We'll make sure to give you a second painful death!" Maddie said right after.

Vlad sighed deeply, he couldn't deal with this anymore, these pathetic, idiotic, stupid speeches.

Annoying

Yet...

Dangerous.

Dangerous for him.

Dangerous for the children.

TOO dangerous for his taste.

He barely blinked when he found himself stained with a lot of red and some green.

He barely paid attention to the blood-soaked lab.

He barely cared about the two mutilated corpses on the floor. Liar, you're screaming in the inside.

Vlad just gathered a bag with things they would need and Fenton tech, walking slowly towards the portal, programming it to self-destruct as soon as he passed through. Not really caring if in theory this will cause this world to collapse, this place no longer matters, it is no longer their home.

He set foot in the Ghost Zone before falling to his knees, exhausted, barely noticing Clockwork and Danny's Ex(?)-Rogues around him.

《♠︎♥︎◆♣︎》

Soft, warm fabric protects his body from a gentle cold wind, red, droopy eyes open slowly, analyzing the place where he is.

He knows this place, Danny and Jazz brought him here when they realized that his obsession was not only harmful to outsiders, but also to his own health.

It's Frostbite's Lair, and the said Yeti doctor who was arranging some medicines, stopped and approached the bed where Vlad is when noticed him awake.

"Hello, Vlad, welcome back. Are you feeling any immediate pain or discomfort?" The ghost doctor asked, already holding a blue clipboard. He took notes when Vlad muttered under his breath, "No, just... exhausted."

The Yeti nodded, putting the clipboard aside. "I see, well, it's an impressively good result since you're carrying eleven extra cores, one of them being from the new king, but you'll still need regular checks to keep it stable like this, it's a miracle. By the way, congratulations on your maternity." Vlad blinked once, twice, three times, and still needed a few more seconds to process this spit of information.

"I-I beg your pardon...?" Vlad half-stood before a fluffy hand with claws gently placed him back down. "Hold on, until further tests you need to remain lying down." The Yeti explained softly. "And I said, that you'll still need to have regular check-ups-" Vlad interrupted him with a raised hand. "That I understand, but what the hell did you mean by 'one of them being from the new king' when you talked about the children's cores!?"

Frostbite seemed to think for a moment, scratching the back of his head. "Ah, yes, I forgot that you haven't been properly introduced to ghost culture." He coughed into his hand. "As you know, ghosts socialize through fighting, and sometimes through their obsessions, but more commonly through battle.

And when Paria Dark was awakened, Danny technically challenged him to a combat, and Pariah technically accepted, and lost, and cause of that, the Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage deemed him worthy of taking the position of Ghost King. Or more specifically, the position of High King of the Infinite Realms. Since that's the official name of the 'Zone, if you remember." Frostbite reached a hand up to close Vlad's dropped jaw.

Vlad shook his head violently. "But he's a child! He's barely 15 years old! And in ghost years it's even worse! Because he's technically 1-2!" He held his head in his hands, nearly pulling his hair out just thinking about the implications of this.

He wasn't a super expert on history, but he knew that usually when there was a king who was too young, he was used as a puppet by others, and Vlad would never, ever let anyone use any of his kids again, not even if it was the Observants or some supernatural eldritch bastard, never again, never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER-

A gentle hand on his shoulder brought Vlad out of his little meltdown. "We know, Vlad, and that's why CW proposed to the Observants that you be his regent."

"Excuse me?" The halfa questioned. "But- I'm not cut out for this-" The mix of anger and protectiveness was replaced by confusion and insecurity. "W-Why? Why me? I'm pretty sure I don't deserve all that trust..."

"You underestimate yourself too much, Valdimir. You have the potential to be Daniel's regent now that you treated the past toxic obsession, as you should be." Another very familiar voice says in front of the door to Frostbite's lair. "Clockwork..." Vlad muttered and frowned. "Are you ever going to stop being enigmatic, not even a little bit?" He grumbled.

The time ancient chuckled, his form changing from an old man to a baby. "Relax, until the children are stable, it will be best to avoid stress." He informed. "So until then, you can take a nice vacation in a non-consequences dimension. Fright Knight may accompany you as an extra measure of care." Vlad felt like he didn't have the option to say no.

Whether it was Frostbite's overwhelming look of concern, or Clockwork's 'Just try to deny it and you'll see' look, he wasn't going to think about it too much. Snorting, he just nodded and sank deeper into the warm blankets of the bed he was lying on.

It seems that this was enough to satisfy the now young man, who walked away leaving him alone with the Yeti.

《♠︎♥︎◆♣︎》

With the help of Technus, Johnny and Skulker, Vlad managed to build an alternative and improved version of the Specter Speeder, and now that everything was ready, he and Fred — He refused to keep calling him Fright Knight all the time, and if this dimension really is like CW explained, it'll be better this way — can now leave the Ghost Zone.

With a sigh and a slight smile, he waved one last time to the others before getting into the Speeder, Fred right behind, and then set off on their journey to a new world.

Vlad looked at her through the Speeder window, thoughtful. His somewhat prolonged stay in the 'Zone, along with the power bust that comes with being the regent, plus the children's cores, had affected his appearance. Both human and ghost forms.

His ghost form grew in size, his hair grew to hiz shoulders, and now the 'horns' that the hairstyle formed were real, His eyes were now not a complete red, his iris remained a bloody red, but the sclera had darkened to pitch black, and his nails turned into real claws that darkened as they went down.

His human form also grew, but not as much as his ghost form, his slender form gained some muscles, his ears grew longer like his ghost form, his fangs were also transferred, and his blue eyes glowed a bit. And of course, a slight pregnant belly in both forms because of the cores.

There weren't many changes, but they were quite visible, he just hoped it wouldn't attract trouble. That was why CW sent them to this place, right? Since there were these types of people called 'Metas' who had unusual traits, and unlike his home world, they were protected by the law, not hunted.

"My queen, we have arrived." Fred said, and he blinked a little to bring his mind back to reality, gosh, it had been years since he dissociated, not since he got out of the hospital at least, but lately he's been doing it a lot. And of course Fred had to call him queen, everyone was calling him that, urgh!

Nodding, Vlad stood up to grab the bag, but a hand pulled the bag before him. "Let me carry the weight for you." Said the knight, and the other could only snort and cross his arms, his stay in the 'Zone was enough time for him to learn that this damn guy was almost impossible to convince, so he saved mental strength, but only because of the children!

Getting out of the Speeder, Fred activated one of the options that were added for convenience. Shrink. This way the speeder became miniature, and if they needed it, they could take it anywhere and go unnoticed, more or less.

Vlad took a moment to analyze the human disguise CW gave Fred; dark skin, long braided hair, purple eyes, and a build similar to his real form, but more realistic to human anatomy.

Sighing again, he followed the knight out of the open field into the forest, heading towards the city closest to his arrival point, Gotham City, if he remembered correctly what Clockwork had said.

But he was soon stopped by a hand on his shoulder, Fred pulled him back from his form protectively. "Get out of where you are." He declared, and with a rustle, a man dressed in blue with a red cape approached and... was that underwear over his pants? Ah, he remembers him, Superman, a hero of this world, what a great moment. Huh.

Said hero raised his hands in a universal sign of surrender/peace. "Relax, I mean no harm! I'm Superman! And... uh, welcome to Earth? I'm a hero, I can help you if you need it..." He offered awkwardly. And what did he mean by Welcome to Earth? Did he think they were aliens? Well, it would make sense, given their appearance and the Speeder which honestly looked a lot like a spaceship, especially this improved version.

But the Kryptonian's words were not enough for the knight, who summoned his sword and pointed it at him. "I don't care who you are or what you are, don't you dare approach the queen, and we don't need your help!" He growled adversely. Vlad would have scolded him for being so rude, but a pain suddenly struck him. "Urgh...!" He grabbed his head and stomach, great, he might end up throwing up now.

And apparently his squeal of pain made the knight's attention shift completely from the hero to him. "Your majesty!" He exclaimed worriedly, his hands hovering over his shoulders. "I'm fine, just...nausea. It was expected in my condition." Vlad muttered, rubbing his aching stomach for a bit.

From the Kryptonian's shocked expression, it can be assumed that with his super hearing he heard Vlad's murmur and put the pieces together.

Without leaving much time for reaction, Fred picks up Vlad with an ease that hurts the remaining ego that the former millionaire had, and moves away from Superman using invisibility and intangibility to disappear from his radar.

And that's it for now! I squeezed every drop of creativity I could out of this creative block, and this is what came out.

So new i come here to put extra content for this AU, and I intend to at least try to continue.

For Vlad's ghost appearance, I was thinking a mix of those

But instead of magenta on the hands, it's red, and the hair a little longer, while the horns smaller.

In human appearance

The fangs are also ghost shaped. And the ears a bit longer.

In the case of the Fright Knight, now named Fred, I was thinking of his human disguise looking like this

But instead of that gold in his hair, it's purple, and his ears are a little smaller. I was also thinking of a skin tone a little darker than the guy in the first photo with purple eyes.

I'll see if I can bribe Vall or one of the girls to draw their design for this AU.

Byebyeee guys!

[babymorte]

a dismissive-avoidant will only confront the consequences of their attachment style when they hit rock bottom—when they risk losing someone they truly can’t bear to lose, and that person refuses to tolerate their push-pull behavior. you can’t “fix” a DA; they can only fix themselves. this happens only when they’re ready to be introspective and recognize that the defense mechanism they’ve relied on their entire lives to protect themselves is actually sabotaging their chances for deeper connection

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

sarah voice are you okay

jonah voice no

adam voice can we help

jonah voice *shaking* n-no

adam voice what did i do??

jonah voice <:'(

YEAHH LIKE. Jonah has no idea how to even BEGIN to explain what he saw-

[the-geek07]

CAN POKEMON GO GIFTS STOP GIVING ME EGGS PLEASE

[dust-of-embers]

Asked the Emu’s if they’d help him out, they said yes.

GO APOLLO GO

SIC 'EM

EVERYONE LEND HIM YOUR STRENGTH!

[tawyblogs]

Leading Humidity Chamber Manufacturer in India – Kesar Control Systems

Kesar Control Systems is a trusted Humidity chamber manufacturer in India, specializing in high-precision chambers designed for controlled humidity and temperature conditions. Our humidity chambers are ideal for pharmaceutical, biotech, and research applications, ensuring accurate environmental simulation for product testing and stability studies. Built with advanced technology and compliance with international standards, our chambers offer reliability and efficiency. Choose Kesar Control Systems for premium humidity chambers. Contact us today! https://www.kesarcontrol.com/humidity-chamber.php

[hmgindiaseo]

Blood Bank Refrigerator Manufacturer

[dabideserveslove]

still gonna do my best for kinktober, I'm just in a really bad pain flare rn

[everydaythesame69]

Free use law passes and you can't even make it a block away from your house anymore without being used by some random man. Having to leave for work hours early and sometimes still not being able to make it in because you're too busy being gang raped by construction workers just down the street. They took away women's licenses, along with the rest of your rights. so you're forced to walk whenever you need to go somewhere, easy prey. You can try to tell them no, but they're so much bigger and stronger than you. Even a scrawny man can overpower most women. All you can do is take it while they violate your holes, pumping you with load after load of cum. Turning into nothing but a fleshlight/incubator for strangers.

[thethief1996]

I can't stop thinking about the news out of Palestine. Israel is sieging al Shifa hospital. Videos of people's limbs being severed off are haunting (graphic video tw). The hospital has ran out of fuel and 39 babies in incubators are fending for their lives by themselves, because Israel has stationed snipers around the hospital and is shooting all medical crew that walks into their sight.

First, the narrative was Israel would never bomb hospitals. Now, the hospitals are Hamas bases. Then, we respect journalists. Now, we have a fucking kill list of journalists because they are Hamas collaborators. First, we are not letting fuel in until the hostages are released. Now, we are not accepting the hostages back because that would stop our ground invasion and let Hamas win. And I could go on about every single lie they're making up. If you look up "Hamas rape" on google, the first link leads to Times of Israel saying Israel has found no forensic evidence of sexual violence, and only one eyewitness testimony out of 3.5k people attending the rave. If you Google "Hamas beheaded babies" the top links say they have no evidence for the claim besides word of mouth from extremist soldiers. Israeli extremists think about the ugliest goriest scene they can make out in their sick heads, tell that to a international journalist and they run away with it like it's gospel.

And children are being killed in the name of these lies. Thousands are being displaced in images that remind me of the pictures of Tantura 75 years ago, with their hands up so the tanks don't shoot them. Amputees are leaving the hospitals in wheelchairs hours after their surgeries because they are being shot at. Elders who survived the Nakba on 48 are having to walk towards Southern Gaza on foot (imagine walking from one end of your city to the other on foot), displaced again. People are cheering for the haunting images of white phosphorus bombs being dropped over Gaza. Gazan workers who were arrested in the West Bank are being thrust back into the bombings wearing numbered labels.

This is not normal. We are seeing the early stages of the settler colonial genocide of an indigenous population. Native leaders who have visited Gaza say its refugee camps look eerily like reservations. We can stop this. For the first time we are able to see wide scale accounts from the hands of the people suffering the genocide, and Israel is so scared of it they have cut all communications in Gaza.

This is our litmus test. I think we have never seen more clearly, with Palestine, Armenia, Congo and Sudan how colonialism has made our world a rotten place to live in.

The South African apartheid collapsed due to boycotts. We have to do everything in our power to stop Israel's hegemony. Even talking to a group of friends about Palestine changes the status quo. There's no world where we can live peacefully if Israel accomplishes their goals.

Keep yourself updated and share Palestinian voices. Muna El-Kurd said every tweet is like a treasure to them, because their voices are repressed on social media and even on this very app. Make it your action item to share something about the Palestinian plight everyday. Here are some resources:

Al Jazeera, Anadolu Agency, Mondoweiss

Boycott Divest Sanction Movement

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing protests and direct action against weapons factories across the US

Mohammed El-Kurd (twitter / instagram)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Motaz Azaiza (instagram) - reporting directly from Gaza.

Hind Khudary - reporting directly from Gaza. Her husband and daughter moved South to run from the tanks but she stayed behind to record the genocide. The least we can do is not let her calls fall on deaf ears.

You can participate in boycotts wherever you are in the world, through BDS guidelines. Don't be overwhelmed by gigantic boycott lists. BDS explicitly targets only a few brands which have bigger impact. You can stop consuming from as many brands as you want, though, and by all means feel free to give a 1 star review to McDonalds, Papa John, Pizza Hut, Burger King and Starbucks. Right now, they are focusing on boycotting the following:

Carrefour, HP, Puma, Sabra, Sodastream, Ahava cosmetics, Israeli fruits and vegetables

Push for a cultural boycott - pressure your favorite artist to speak out on Palestine and cancel any upcoming performances on occupied territory (Lorde cancelled her gig in Israel because of this. It works.)

If you can, participate in direct action or donate.

Palestine Action works to shut down Israeli weapons factories in the UK and USA, and have successfully shut down one of their firms in London.Some of the activists are going on trial and are calling for mobilizing on court.

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing direct actions to stop the shipping of wars to Israel. Follow them.

Educate yourself. Read into Palestinian history and the occupation. You can't common sense people out of decades of propaganda. If your arguments crumble when a zionist brings up the "disengagement of Gaza", you have to learn more.

Read Decolonize Palestine. They have 15 minute reads that concisely explain the occupation (and its colonial roots) and debunk popular myths, including pinkwashing.

Read on Palestine. Here's an amazing masterpost.

Verso Book Club is giving out free books on Palestine (I personally downloaded Ten Myths about Israel by Ilan Pappe. If you still believe in the two states solution, this book by an Israeli professor debunks it).

Call your representatives. The Labour Party in the UK had an emergency meeting after several councilors threatened to resign if they didn't condemn Israeli war crimes. Calling to show your complaints works, even more if you live in a country that funds genocide.

FOR PEOPLE IN THE USA: USCPR has developed this toolkit for calls, here's a document that autosends emails to your representatives and here's a toolkit by Ceasefire in Gaza NOW!

FOR PEOPLE IN EUROPE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace targeting the European Parliament and one specific for almost all countries in Europe, including Germany, Ireland, Poland, Denmark, Sweden, Netherlands, Greece, Norway, Italy, Portugal, Spain, Finland, Austria, Belgium Romania and Ukraine

FOR PEOPLE IN THE UK: Friends of Al-Aqsa UK and Palestine Solidarity UK have made toolkits for calls and emails

FOR PEOPLE IN AUSTRALIA: Here's a toolkit by Stand With Palestine

FOR PEOPLE IN CANADA: Here's a toolkit by Indepent Jewish Voices for Canada

Join a protest. Here's a constantly updating list of protests:

Global calendar

Another global calendar (go to the instragram of the organizers to confirm your protest)

USA calendar

Australia calendar

Feel free to add more.

[kesarcontrol312]

[davinawritings]

Imagine being bred and kidnapped by aliens.

Apparently, their entire race is going extinct because they are no longer producing females.

They have traveled to different planets but have not found any compatible females in other species.

When they come to earth, they are in a very rural area with barely any humans.

The first human they encounter is you on your small farm. From your scent alone they can tell you are nice and fertile for them.

The next morning when you walk into your barn to begin your day, you are immediately grabbed and held down, surrounded by a dozen or so alien creatures.

They take turns breeding you, playing with your body to bring you to orgasm each time they fill you, knowing females that orgasm incubate their eggs better.

You fill up quickly with their eggs, your mind already gone from the overwhelming sensations and orgasms.

Hours later you are fucked completely dumb and don't put up any fight as the aliens drag you to their spaceship, prepared to bring you back to their planet and save their entire race one breeding session at a time.

[consultingfujoshi]

having some barely formed thoughts about the three severed women we know of (excluding o&d) and how they're all sort of experiencing their own misogynist hellscape and how severance not only exacerbates the existing struggles of women but reduces those women down to nothing but their suffering

gabby's innie exists purely to gestate and give birth to children and then is switched off again and never gets to raise or even meet her child until her husband decides it's time for the next one. episode 7 suggests gabby is not the only woman who has done this to herself. how many female innies exist just to be a walking baby incubator?

gemma is quite literally in hell. dozens of versions of her are being subjected to physical or psychological torture at the hands of the same white guy, at least one of which is in an endless performance of housewifery, her body given over to the hands of strangers, and she has to willingly walk into each room knowing anything could be happening to her in there and she will never know what, only that her alternate selves have literally never known anything except suffering. you did it to yourself, you asked for this.

and even when she tries to free herself she is immediately sent back by one of these innies who literally does not know what is going on and why she's here, and doesn’t know enough to question what she's being told. these women she becomes do not have the tools, the knowledge or agency, to fight back. if you'd known better, you'd have stopped it. why didn't you stop it? why weren't you smarter about it? why weren't you more careful?

tell me you love me before you go, sweetheart

and helly. she's more complicated but there's really something to be said about helena, a woman that by all accounts should see her as a sister, and uses that very idea to propagandise herself and inflate her own status, but in reality does not even see helly as human - she is constantly at the mercy of a woman far more affluent and powerful than herself who feigns care for her to the masses whilst happily subjecting her to torture. and then without that support from another woman, without that sense of solidarity, she seeks refuge in the arms of a man who can somewhat understand what she's going through because that feels like her only option, to gain approval or social standing through a man, but even that is hollow and it is soured by the very woman she is at the mercy of competing with her for that same man. she has been forced to place all her bets on the love of a man, like that'll prove she's real and worth something, and even that she can't have for herself

severance is used in all of these cases as a means of further dehumanising, objectifying, and reducing women down to their base biological functions and forces them to subject themselves to the whims of men. all in totally unique ways but all very real experiences that women go through every day, crytallised by having it quite literally be all they exist for. severance as just another tool to exert violence upon women

[ilium-ilia]

calyptra thalictri

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | "single mom" au | masterlist

5: veil

tw: medical talk, morning sickness, light drugging, non-con

The only food your stomach allows you to keep down these days is buttered pasta—this child (this creature) allows nothing else. 

A large pot of penne boils in front of you, pasta dancing through the turbulent water, swirling as if enticing you to join for a bath. To stick your hand into the superheated liquid, to allow it to gnaw your skin off to the very bone. Instead, you stand and stare at it, arms crossed and eyes heavy as the timer on the stove slowly counts down. 

Morning sickness has been a mighty beast to overcome these last few weeks, though you’ve come to the painful realization that it does not plague you only in the morning like the name would suggest. It’s in the afternoon while you’re at the office when your co-worker walks by you, cologne thick and heavy on their skin, tainting your nose, forcing your stomach to clench and thrash. It’s in the evening when you crave a treat so fervently that your body decides the only good option is to overturn the lunch you hardly choked down in the first place. It’s in the middle of the night when you rouse yourself for a glass of water, only to choke on rancid, unforgiving bile.

You’re not gaining enough weight, your obstetrician says. Far behind the curve—she tells you to eat more. You need more protein, more fibre, more fats; more of everything. Choke it down. Keep it down. Everything you do now is for the baby. For this child. Never for yourself. Never your own health. An incubator, a carrier, a mother by proxy but not by desire. 

You want to tell her that she should live with something growing inside of her—something ripping her apart from the inside out—and see how she fares with such a monumental task. 

Once your pasta has made it to the halfway mark, you sigh and retrieve your kettle. The warped iron dully reflects your disappointed gaze as you fill it at the sink. You place it on the other burner to boil, ready to indulge in your sleepy time tea to knock yourself out after a long day of office bureaucracy and shrouded misogynistic insults. Everyone at work has put two and two together—you’re unwed, you do not speak of any man; simply, you are a sinner. A harlot. Something to scorn. Their whispers bleed through the walls louder than they know. 

A knock sounds at the door. 

Though you are not surprised to hear the blunt percussive melody, you realize you’re not used to it. The way it reverberates through the wood. How sharp it cracks through the air. Humming, you place your stirring soon on the counter before shuffling to the front door, not bothering to look to see who it is when you open it. 

Simon stands on the other side, and he’s just as tall and broad as you remember him being from yesterday. Your car park helper, who loaded your bags into your car and slipped his number into your hand before you could even comprehend the scribbling. His dark eyes flicker to your stomach as you give him a gauche smile, hand still resting on the knob like you’re considering slamming the door in his face and holing up inside your quaint burrow. 

“Hi,” you greet, spine stiffer than a board. “Erm… come on in. I’ve got your stuff here in the kitchen.” 

Head bowed low as if begging for forgiveness in anticipation, you lead Simon into your home as he wordlessly follows behind you. Simon’s items—that had peculiarly found themselves hidden among your groceries—sit in a bag on the counter. You begin to rummage through the items, listing off each thing that you found no belonging to you, but you find your tongue tripping on your words at the looming presence behind you. 

He is a strange man, you realize. Truly strange. Selfless enough to assist you—a stranger—yet so quiet. A gargantuan boulder made of scar tissue and crooked bone, he seems more animal than he does man. Roughened by the wilderness. Fond of the freedom that lies beyond human shackles. Beyond human skin. 

“This ought to be all of it,” you say, tapping the counter. “At least, it was the stuff that I didn’t recognize being mine, but if you-” 

Words catch in your throat when you turn back around to face Simon and find him bent over your stove, spoon in hand, stirring your pasta. The timer goes off, and he shuts it off like he’s done it a million times previously before he kills the burner. You swallow, and your anticipation feels thick in your throat. 

“Oh, Simon, you don’t have to do that.” Your polite tone smothers the confusion you feel you ought to spit at him—a snappy what the hell are you doing? 

“Take a seat.” It’s the first thing he’s said to you since he’s entered your home, and yet he sounds like the host instead of the guest. His edict is firm, and leaves no room for argument. 

Stiff, you waddle over to the living room before sinking down into the sofa. With your flat being too small to house a proper dining room table, you’ve always eaten here, sitting in front of the TV and trying to use it to drown out the lonely silence that’s haunted these walls since you first moved in. Now, there is company to be had here, yet your mind reels as you listen to Simon in the kitchen, flat suddenly haunted by an unknown entity—a large creature with one of the most gentle touches you’ve ever seen. 

The kettle cries, boiling water is poured, china clinks as pasta is mixed—Simon prepares everything the way you had it laid out and presents it to you in the living room when he’s finished. Your gratitude leaves your lips numb as you place your plate in your lap and stare at the meal as he plops himself next to you. 

His weight is heavy on the couch, body sinking into the cushion, threatening to lure you into the gravity of him as he leans forward and places your tea on the coffee table. Simon’s hands are empty, void of any meal for himself, and you find yourself anxiously poking at your penne with the prongs of your fork. 

“How’s your mornin’ sickness?” he asks.

It’s an odd question to hear coming from a man like him, legitimate concern lacing his tone as if he has skin in this wretched game. Avoiding eye contact, you pierce a piece of penne onto your fork before inspecting it. You try to force yourself to focus on anything but Simon. 

“It’s alright,” you murmur. “The medicine helps some but it’s still… not great.” 

You’re transported back to the car park when you first met Simon—large hand obscuring your medicine, his eerie chime about which one he prefers more, his refusal to stand by and let you do anything on your own. Even now you feel the weight of his attention on you, meticulously cutting you apart as he waits for you to eat. There is little reprieve to be found when you finally force something down your throat, but the change in discomfort manifests as a pit in your stomach; angry muscles churn, esophagus expanding, ready to expel. 

“Did you find all your items in your bag? I didn’t miss anything, did I?” you question, anxious to get the attention off of you and onto something else. 

He hums, dark like the amber shade of aged whiskey. “Yeah. All there.” 

“Good.” Sharp. Short. To the point. You swallow. “Must have gotten mixed into mine when you helped me the other day.” 

“Must’ve.” 

You give up on the small talk after his blunt responses prove to be never-ending, and instead focus on eating your meal as quickly as possible. Each time your stomach begins to twist in protest, you reach for your tea and desperately sip away at the liquid, praying that the warmth will urge your abdomen into submission. The nausea is still there, puttering around in your stomach like an unwelcome guest, but now it’s coupled with the weight of slumber that so desperately attempts to pull you into its grasp. 

The room spins. Suddenly stricken with prostration, you find your lungs expelling the last bit of air they hold as you blink away the fog obscuring your vision, only for it to return a moment later. You try to focus on something. Anything. The gossamer sheen of butter that collects in the ridges of your penne, the small bend in the prong of your fork—

—the thick fingers reaching out to grab your plate. 

“Finished?” Simon asks. 

You swallow down the briny aftertaste lingering on your tongue as you allow him to take your plate and place it on the coffee table. Nodding, you swipe at your brow—there is no perspiration, but the thudding of your heart leads you to believe there should be. 

“Yes. I-I—Simon—thank you. Sincerely. But I’m not feeling well. I think it might be best if you-” 

“You should lay down,” Simon interjects, cutting off your fuzzy thoughts from ever leaving the cavern of your mouth. 

A rebuttal bubbles up in the back of your throat the same time your dinner does. Bile and acid sear your vocal cords, fraying them, pulling them too taut to speak. Wordlessly, you watch Simon stand before you with his hand extended and reaching for yours, and though you know you should recoil, you find yourself too dazed to really care that he grabs you and pulls you to your feet. 

Each step toward your bedroom feels like a marathon. Muscles too tight yet unforgivingly malleable, knees nearly buckling, feet swelling and throbbing. Simon aids you in laying down, going as far as to pull the covers up over your melting body. Vision shrouded with your impending repose, you watch him—fingers gripping the blanket, tucking you in, knees colliding with the floor, hand now rubbing against the fat on your cheek—

—his eyes. They’re dark. Voids holding the absence of light and soul. They widen as he looks at you. Fear cuts through your chest as you think they might swallow you whole. Solicitude plagues you as your mind questions why you recognize them. 

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice hardly reaches a susurrus. It whistles between your teeth and along the tip of your tongue as his warmth bleeds into your skin. “Why are you… taking care of me?” 

“Because it’s what’s right.” 

Simon speaks it like an oath—a prophecy unfolding before his very eyes as he beholds you, calloused hands and all. He sees the confusion flicker across your face like a dying bulb, and his lips nearly quirk into a smile. One day, you’ll understand it as he does. This wretched gift of creation. 

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he swears. “Both of you.” 

You’re too far gone to hear it. Mind drowning beneath the waves of nothingness and contorted dreams. Chest rising and falling, eyes fluttering beneath their lids—he watches you. His gaze rakes over your body just like his hands have done so many times in the past, floating over the curve of your breasts until he’s met with the swelling of your stomach. 

His. Both you, and this child. 

Wandering palms traverse from your face to your stomach. He presses. Feels the way your skin stretches around your growing womb, feels the warmth of creation beneath his very fingertips, feels the fluttering in his chest. Simon Riley feels alive. More alive than a gun in his hand could ever instill in him. 

Ardor suddenly swelling in the rotten cavern of his ribcage, he presses his lips to yours. It’s the first time he’s gotten to taste you without the barrier of a mask in the way—unadulterated, and true. You’re just as soft as he imagined you’d be, and when he pulls away, he finds that he can’t wander too far before he speaks again. 

“I’m gonna take care of you, Angel. You, and my child.”

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | early access to chapters here

[sleepy-hisui]

I DID NOT THINK THAT THE GIRATINA EGG WOULD BE ONE OF THOSE ONES THAT TAKES FOREVER AND A DAY TO HATCH

time to WALK AROUND with a FIRE TYPE to MAKE THIS GO FASTER