#help me i fear i will be attacked for this

[omgthatdress]

Sooooo ummmmmmm this is something that's probably going to piss a lot of people off, but I feel like I really need to say it.

If you get a message from an account claiming to be a Palestinian fundraiser, it is a bot. It is a scam. You need to report & delete the message and encourage others to do the same.

I know because I get messages on this account DAILY. I have a very high follower count and I'm pretty active and I interact with my followers a lot, and apparently that all adds up to one big bot magnet.

Bots following and messaging this account was a MASSIVE problem before Tumblr fixed its new account policies. I used to spend literally hours blocking and reporting the hundreds of bots that I would get following me each day.

I learned a lot about bots and how to identify them. The easiest way is with no avatar, "untitled" in the blog description (BTW if your avatar is still set to default PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD change it because you run a substantial risk of being accidentally blocked & reported as a bot).

One of the dead give aways of a bot was what I call "word salad" names. Three seemingly random words strung together making no sense, always adjective, adjective or noun, noun. If you reported a lot of these bots, you'd notice the same words kept showing up.

Nowadays, I am bombarded with fundraiser requests and sometimes, they don't even bother to hide the fact that they're a bot. The avatar is default, the blog title is "untitled," and the blog name is a classic randomly-generated word salad.

However MOST of the requests I get come from at least semi-legit looking accounts. There are pictures, a name, a story. Never mind that I've gotten that message three times from different accounts.

Sometimes, they claim to be vetted, but the whole vetting system essentially adds up to "trust me bro." There is no way of guaranteeing that this account isn't just lying about being vetted, claiming to be vetted by a false person, or are using the identity of a real Palestinian to scam people.

Previously, I've seen a lot of people getting attacked for raising questions about these fundraisers and getting attacked for being racist or for harming Palestinian families in danger, like Tumblr isn't a website famous for its scams and the words "The Arkh Project" "All or Nothing" or "Miss Officer and Mr. Truffles" mean nothing to you.

I personally have been scammed by people claiming to be charities on Tumblr before, specifically, The Leelah Project which used the name of a trans teenager who died by suicide to swindle people out of their money.

Luckily, there are actual, respected charities out there you can give money to if you want to help the cause:

Palestinian Children's Relief Fund

Palestine Red Crescent Society

United Nations Relief Works Agency

Islamic Relief

World Central Kitchen

Médecins Sans Frontièrs

One of the hardest things to accept about the situation in Palestine is that realistically, there is very little that your average outsider can do to change it. However, these large, well-respected and trustworthy charities are out there doing the hard work to keep people alive, and should be where the donation money is going

These scam bots feed on people's naïvety and need to believe that they are making a difference, and even worse, feed on the fear that by ignoring them, it somehow makes you a racist doing direct harm to a refugee family, when in fact they are using the suffering of Palestinians to take away money from those in need.

As far as fundraisers that don't send out random asks for donations, I honestly don't know. You'll have to do the work yourself and approach with much caution.

Be careful out there.

[wilcze-kudly]

Katara and the fear of loss (aka why she waited)

I think one aspect of Katara's storyline I don't see explored nearly enough the fact that she is terrified of losing others, especially those whom she cares for. This makes sense, especially looking to her background, how the death of her mother affected her and the fact that war has been a very large part of her life since she was a small child. Not to mention, she is actively a huge part of said war, along with her brother and friends, at the tender age of 14.

Now, some of you may ask "quill what the hell does Aang have to do with Katara's mother?"

Yes, on the surface, there isn't that much connecting Katara's dead, grown ass mother to Katara's alive 12 year old goofball bf but the parallels between Kya and Aang are planted even at the beginning of the show, in the first few episodes.

When Zuko and the Fire Nation attack the Southern Watertribe, they are looking for Aang, the last airbender, not dissimilar to the Southern Raiders looking for the last Southern waterbender. Furthermore, both Kya and Aang willingly give themselves up to the Fire Nation in order to protect the village, particularly Katara.

Throughout the show, we see Katara's interest and endearment towards Aang grow, and we see them create a genuine friendship. But I'd argue that Aang being the Avatar is, to some degree, a problem to their relationship. Aang's duty as the Avatar, and the risks and decisions he is faced with due to it, often create a rift between him and Katara.

Be it due to Aang's responsibilities leading him to make decisions she doesn't agree with, like in the Avatar State, where Aang feels the pressure to force the Avatar State due to the suffering of the soldiers he feels responsible for.

Or, more poignantly, in the Awakening, where Aang is once again compared to one of the parents Katara lost due to the war, though Hakoda's 'loss' was not due to death, but a need to fight. I think this also shows how much Katara values Aang not just as the Avatar, but as a person.

Katara: Aang. He just took his glider and disappeared. He has this ridiculous notion that he has to save the world alone, that it's all his responsibility. Hakoda : Maybe that's his way of being brave. Katara: It's not brave; it's selfish and stupid! We could be helping him, and I know the world needs him, but doesn't he know how much we need him, too? How can he just leave us behind? Hakoda : You're talking about me too, aren't you?

This is twice Aang has been directly paralleled to one of Katara's parents, whose repsective losses have clearly affected her greatly. This is also extremely poignant, since we've been explicitly told that Aang's love for his own lost family, the Air Nomads, was reborn into Katara. For Aang and Katara, the ways they deal with their losses influences how they pursue each other romantically.

Of course, there's also the ✨️ immediate threat of death and physical injury✨️. Aang and the rest of the Gaang, but particularly Aang is constantly being chased and tracked and endangered by the Fire Nation and he is meant to face the Firelord and defeat him. There are a lot of possibilities for something to go horrifically wrong here.

From Aang being half dead when Katara found him, then almost immediately getting kidnapped by the prince of the goddamn Fire Nation, to almost every villain of the week shenanigan, Katara already has good reason to worry for Aang.

But then the reach Ba Sing Se and things get even worse. Jet, Katara's only other canonically confirmed love interest dies, and Katara is helpless to do anything about it. This is already enough to make someone reconsider future romantic endeavours, but surely it can't get any worse, right?

Oh yeah, Aang FUCKING DIES

He gets blasted in the back with lighting, right as he enters the avatar state, right before Katara's eyes. The saviour of the world, but more importantly, her dear friend, brutally cut down before her very eyes. And Katara, a child, is the only person with even a sliver of hope of bringing him back.

So is it really any surprise that Katara, having experienced loss before multiple times over, and almosf having lost Aang himself, would be hesitant to enter a romantic relationship with someone being actively hunted by the greatest military in the world, someone obligated to take on the leader of said military?

Katara is afraid. She's afraid of opening her heart up to loving Aang and then losing him after that. This is the main reason why she hesitates in initiating her and Aang's relationship. Whenever Aang tries to brooch the subject, she brings up the war and the Firelord, but due to being a child, she struggles in communicating her exact feelings, which leaves Aang confused and of kilter. Katara often gives Aang romantic attention, and clearly feels rather possessive of him, however, she is not ready to enter a romantic relationship due to the threat of the war looming above their heads. But due to being 14, she doesn't know how to explain these feelings, which is what leads to the minor conflict between her and Aang. Because, you know, they're both children in a situation that children aren't built to deal with.

Katara : Aang, I don't know. Aang: Why don't you know? Katara : Because, we're in the middle of a war, and, we have other things to worry about. This isn't the right time.

It's important to note that Aang isn't exactly a bad person for wanting this relationship to be made tangible. He does push boundaries, and kissing Katara without her consent in the Ember Island episode is obviously a horrendous misstep (which he acknowledged), but I think you can at least understand his motives. He may soon die, after all, and he wants to love Katara and wants to express that love before he possibly loses his entire goddamn life. I think this can also be traced back to how Aang deals with the genocide of the Air Nomads and vs how Katara deals with the death of her mother.

Aang certainly blames himself for the death of the Air Nomads, although this guilt is unfounded. Perhaps part of him believes that if he'd just stayed with them, spent a little more time with Gyatso, he could've helped them. It wouldn't be a leap to imagine that Aang wanting to spend more time with those he loves, including Katara is a coping mechanism surrpunding that loss.

Now juxtapose this to Katara, who's entire encounter with Yon Rha is permeated by helplessness and fear, an 8 year old Katara being unable to do anything but run away and try to get help, sadly not in time for Kya to survive. So Katara trying to assert some control over her relationships, maintaining a certain distance to Aang while the war that robbed her of her mother is still in full swing isn't an improbable concept. She's trying to not feel that helplessness again.

(Katara probably blames herself for her mother's death too, but it has less to do with Katara's actions and more to fo with what Katara was; a waterbender, something she hasno bearing on)

This is why she initiates the kiss with Aang at the end of the show. Not because she feels the need to give in to his advances due to him being the hero of the world. Not because she's caving to his insistence or because she's pressured. But because the possibility of Aang getting fucking murked by glorified pyromancers are significantly lower than they were during the war.

This is not a 'taking one for the team bcs I feel like I have to due to Aang saving the world' type of smooch. This is a 'finally I feel safe to express my feelings' type of smooch.

To be completely honest, I don't like how Kataang was handled post day of black sun, I think it was an unnecessary addition of a redundant "will they, won't they?" aspect to the relationship. Teasing Zutara in the last few episodes was also just unnecessary, because it was obviously never a viable endgame relationship and it only served to give kid zutara shippers false hope. This is especially fucked up looking at how the same zutara fans were later mocked by the creators, which, no matter what you think if the ship, is a horrible thing to do to a bunch of teenage girls and I think has contributed to those teenage girls growing into bitter, aggressive adult zutara shippers.

But, as much as I dislike this storyline, it does make sense for Katara's character and is an interesting and touching 'silent arc' for her to have. We often see characters fall in love in the midst of a conflict, but we aren't always shown how that conflict would affect the way they look at their relationship, so I appreciate this storyline for what it was.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine helping Crocodile discover a new way to use his devil fruit, part 2

I've decided that I'm going to do a fic for this, instead of an imagine. I don't know about this one, but I'm posting it anyway.

Also, this an afab reader fic, sorry.

It was late when you left Buggy's party to head home. So late, in fact, that the city had turned off most of the streetlamps. With only every third lamp lit on the main streets, one of Crocodile's brilliant budget cuts left you blindly scurrying between lamps to stay where you could see, cursing as you went. When you finally reached your street you encountered an expanse of broken streetlights leaving you with little choice, but to fumble blindly down the road, with only starlight to guide you. You paused, to give your eyes a moment to adjust and to put on your shoes, before heading off into the darkness.

Only a few steps in, you heard what sounded like sand moving. Without thinking, you called out, "hello?" Your jaw snapped shut when you realized you had just given away your position.

A deep chuckle broke the tense air, it was familiar, "It's quite late for little deers to be out, all by themselves." Suddenly, a bright ember lit up in your periphery, giving you a glance at the man in the dark. A dark cigar with a predatory grin at the other end of the ember, there was no mistaking it.

Crocodile murmured, "I've been looking for you all night."

"Why me?" You asked, taking a step back, even though you knew there was no escaping from him if he really wanted you

"I want to know what else that fucked up little head of yours can come up with." He purred. You flinch as his hand engulfed your neck. The feeling of his sand skittering along your skin made you instinctively go up on your tippy-toes to get away. Sensing your discomfort, his thumb gently caresses your cheek to soothe you. "Easy there, I'm not going to hurt you, yet." Crocodile takes a slow drag off his cigar, the ember glittering in his eyes. He was clearly enjoying the power trip he was getting off on your fear.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and started to ramble off anything you could use sand for. "Water filtration."

"Water is a no-go."

"You could use the technique I previously suggested to make glass. It would be useful for barriers against biochemical attacks, or for stopping up hinges. "

Crocodile hummed, "That would be useful, I'll have to try that later... But ultimately not the thing I'm looking for. "

"What sort of things are you implying?"

"Telling you would deprive me of the pleasure of watching you squirm, so keep trying." He said, tightening his hand around your neck, just enough to make your head spin.

You gasped, "Sand has silica in it, which is bad to breathe in. Uh... I can be used for skin!"

His grip loosened, as he echoed, "for skin?"

"It's used as an exfoliant." You stammered, trying to remain balanced.

"I recall having skinned my knee falling on the beach before I ate my devil fruit." He grumbled.

"You're supposed to add it to lotion or oil. "

"I can use lotion and oil," he chuckled, "I finally have the inspiration I needed. Thank you, little deer, why don't we go try it out." Crocodile released your neck, slid his arm around your shoulders, and guided you down the street.

"What are you doing." You asked, "Where are you taking me?"

The large man pulled you into his side, bemused by your size difference, as he asked, "did I misinterpret the way you look at me when you think I can see you?"

Your eyes flicked up to his, suddenly feeling very embarrassed because you've always taken every opportunity to ogle him in that slutty lil waistcoat of his.

He gave you a feline grin and mused, "I have not misinterpreted anything, have it. I know a hungry look when I see one. So where I'm taking you is to feast at my residence."

Sir Crocodile wasted no time bringing you to his estate, you crossed the threshold, and his grip on you slid from your shoulder to your waist. His hand groped the fat of your hip through the thin material of your shirt, as he led you to his room.

As soon as his bedroom door shut behind him, he removed his coat and gently pushed you face down on the large, plush sheets of his bed. He ordered you not to move a muscle, and you waited patiently, happily taking in the heavy scent of his sheets. You remained there for two minutes, listening to him remove his coat and shoes, he moved to another room for a minute, before coming back and setting several bottles and a large box on the nightstand.

"Up, sit up." He asserted, sliding onto the bed behind you. When you sat up on your knees, one of his large hands pulled you back into his lap. With another hoist and a gasp from you, he had you perched upon the rather prominent bulge in his pants. He had evidently removed his belt and vest well, he sat there in only a crisp button-up shirt and starched slacks.

"Now, why don't we get started with the foreplay?" He chuckled, swapping out his hook for some sort of mobility attachment that allowed him to unbutton his shirt. You leaned against his chest, and looked up at him. The black haired man grinned at the submissive look on your face, and used his now free hand to remove his hook. You watched as his nub and his hand turned into lumps of sand.

"I think the lotion would work quite nicely, don't you?" Crocodile rumbled, depositing several pumps of lotion onto the sand and rubbing them together until it was mixed evenly. The anticipation had caused an ache to grow between your legs. An ache that only grew larger when he shoved his hands under your shirt. You gasped when his fingers pushed up your breasts. The sand was cool at first, but it warmed up the rotation picked up speed.

You reached back and locked hands around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the strands of hair there, as you arched into his touch. Crocodile let you bask in his touch for only a brief moment, before nudging your head in his direction and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His scent, taste, and touch filled your senses. He smelled like whiskey, smoke, honey, and a natural musk, which left you dizzy. A high-pitched sigh left you, reveling in the moment, completely missing that the noise that had left you a moment ago had made the man under you feel absolutely feral. He let you distract yourself by grinding down on him, and nipping at his lips and tongue, while he gathered more sand. He opened the lotion bottle and mixed its contents with his sand before forming several new arms.

Three large hands pried apart your legs, as two hands of swirling sand massaged the meat of your thighs and calves. Two hands gripped your hips, rocking your clothes slit over his bulge, as two more hands groped at your chest. You cried out, only for Crocodile to use a column of sand to pull you back into a kiss. While his hand, of flesh and bone, made its way between your legs.

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[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 3/?

Wordcount: 2,557 / 7,296

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★ ★ - Also on AO3! - ★

!!! CONTENT WARNING FOR VIVID DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACKS. !!!

...

More than anything you wanted to get away from this human. Your hands finally weaseled their way out of his vice grip as you pushed at his fingers that held down your body. His thumb still pressed across your shoulders painfully as you tried to pry him off. 

“Let GO!-“ 

Ignoring his question you let out a strangled cry, if you weren’t so frantic and lightheaded you might have believed the expression on his face to be pure shock and awe. 

“I'm afraid I can't do that, you'll just take off running and I would like to ask you a few questions,” 

That was the point of being put down you quipped back in your head. Your voice lost among your emotions as you screamed internally, not wanting to give this scientist the satisfaction of a response. Your hands still pushing at his digits that curled uncomfortably around you. It was pathetic really. Being able to be pinned by the simple act of being held. His grip wasnt even all that tight anymore, adding insult to injury. 

The sheer power the human held over you just by existing made you dizzy and nauseous. 

He seemed to be lost in thought as he watched you push and practically claw at his pointer finger. He made no move to pin your hands down again so you assumed you weren't doing much damage to your dismay. 

That damned jar once again was lifted and set on the desk, before you could stop it you felt his hand tilting so your legs faced the opening. 

You tried to stop it by pushing a foot on the rim, but it was no use. All it took was Ford letting go and gravity pulled you down into the glass with a small thud. 

Your injured ankle took the brunt of the force, making you stifle a scream as you landed painfully into the glass. All the while the human just pulled his journal closer and wrote. 

Stumbling on your feet you leaned against the front of the glass, your hands balling into fists as you hit the thick and cold glass. 

“There, now that I'm not holding you does that help?” 

It almost made it worse. Atleast he wasnt picking up the jar and taking you down into his lab. 

He wasnt speaking, keeping his eyes trained on you and your heaving form. You could feel the beads of sweat practically rolling down your face. 

You were stressed. You could feel the buzz of a panic attack under your skin, your fists no longer hitting the glass as you tried to calm your frantic breathing. 

Standing was too much to ask of your body too it seemed as your knees buckled and you fell into the cold floor again. 

You only realized Ford was still speaking to you when you finally looked back up and saw almost a panicked expression on his face. Your ears rang painfully loud as you tried so hard to focus on what he was saying. 

Ultimately it didn't matter because right as you started looking up at him he seemed to panic more. Helpless to stop him you watched as he stood from his desk and you physically recoiled. Half expecting him to pick up the glass and take you down to his lab the moment you stopped being useful. 

He didn't do that though to your surprise. He just left the room. You thought that would calm you down but it didn't, the panic in your chest still raged on. 

The once uncomfortable buzz under your skin had now circled its way to your lungs. Your breathing was labored and frantic, the only comfort coming from the freezing glass walls of your prison as you pressed against it. 

Small droplets of tears glided down your face, leaving an uncomfortable dryness in their wake. You curled up as small as possible, your knees pressing to your chest. 

You had been caught. 

Your fate was sealed. 

He would drop you off at some lab for more testing if he didn't do it himself. He was probably calling someone to get you now. 

Unbeknownst to you at the moment he was making a call, but not a call to any scientist. He was making a call to the most brilliant mechanic he knew for help. 

…

It felt like it took forever for the human to come back. You didn't exactly trust your time perception at this moment though, he could've only been gone for a few minutes for all you knew. 

You stayed curled in your tight ball as you heard him sit back down at his desk. Your body is tense and awaiting him to do something. He was most definitely looking at you, no doubt writing whatever he could into his journal. 

You didn't look at him. Straining your still ringing ears to try to pick up anything that could clue you into what he was doing. 

You could most definitely hear his pen scratching away at a page in his journal. He wasnt speaking to you directly which wasnt as big of a relief as you thought it would be. 

Why did he leave the room? That was your biggest question in all honesty. 

A few more moments of silence passed between the two of you. The only sound was your strained breathing that you doubted the human could hear anyway. 

Your shoulders tensed as his voice was once again reverberating around you. Still in a whisper despite how loud it was regardless. 

“...It didn't seem to have any claws, how would It have survived in the wilderness.. Does it have some sort of venom? No, if it did-” 

…Ah. Muttering to himself. Honestly, the mark of someone who was completely sane was when they mumbled to themselves. 

You screwed your eyes shut as you blocked out what he was saying. Especially when he insisted on referring to you as an ‘it’. 

You were about to yell at him, to tell him to shut up when your ears heard a loud knocking coming from the front door. 

So he had called more scientists after all. 

The creaky wooden chair he sat on squealed against the hardwood floor as he stood. Your hands clamping over your sensitive ears before the panic that had just begun to dissipate picked back up tenfold. 

His hand reached for the jar. 

Denial. 

There was no way he was just going to turn you into the others so quickly. He had only just discovered you. Surely he hadn't taken enough notes yet to be satisfied. 

You reeled backward, your ankle screaming its protests as well as your lungs. The oxygen your brain craves so much is being exhaled much too quickly to be fully processed. 

His hand closed around the Jar. Making your body sway unsteadily as you saw the desk below you rising. The glass flooring heavily disorients you. 

Anger. 

What reasoning did he have to uproot you from your life? You weren't harming anyone. You were being turned into some scientist to experiment on you just for being born. You hadn't asked for this. 

You had just as much control over being born a borrower as he had being born a man. You didn't choose this life. 

Your hands hit against the glass as more tears began to go down your face. Hitting the floor of the jar with a faint clink. 

The human seemed none the wiser to your protests. His other hand going to cover the top of the jar as he swiftly left his room. 

Bargaining. 

Your whole body was shaking. The desperation finally made you find your voice as it cracked. 

“Let me out!- I'll talk!- I can-... I can tell you more! Don't you want answers? I can give answers!-” 

You rambled to yourself through choked sobs. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks. 

The human didn't stop walking to the main room. You both were now at the stairs when he finally acknowledged you. 

“We can all talk in a moment,” 

His voice was smooth as if he was zoned in on one task and one task alone. 

Depression. 

The realization that you couldn't stop him put a new weight on your chest as you fell into the glass wall. Not from your shaky legs surprisingly. The human just wasnt holding the jar with the most care it seemed. 

You tried to put on a brave face as he set your glass prison on the kitchen table. You were back where it all started. 

You should've been more careful that night. He should have never seen you. You should have never moved into this cottage. More than anything you regretted not being able to see your family again. 

You could hear the front door open as a second pair of footsteps joined Ford in the kitchen. 

You prepared yourself for the worst. So when you looked up and met the eyes of his colleague you stilled. 

“...You put them in a JAR?-” 

You hadn't expected that.

Ford seemed shocked at his assistants' outburst. Floundering for an excuse. 

“It was the best option! It didn't want to be held and if I put it down it wouldve-”

You could only imagine how rough you looked based on how the other human's expression softened when you flinched at the humans raising their voices. 

The other scientist Ford invited over had a very thick Southern accent. You never really heard an accent like his unless you counted the shows Ford occasionally played much too loud. 

Thinking back on it this human might have made him watch said shows. 

He took his thin-framed glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. Agitated with his companion. 

“You called sayin’ they looked ill, it's not hard to see exactly why.” 

It clicked in your head now. Ford must've seen your panic as some sort of illness rather than the emotional trauma he was inflincting. 

“I wasnt causing it any harm! It even understands English, do you know how big of a find this is!” 

Ford was trying his hardest to explain his reasoning to Fiddleford. He only wanted answers from the smaller being. Fiddleford put his glasses back on and directly addressed the creature in the jar. 

You watched as he crouched down by the table, causing you to push yourself backward. Pressing against the glass as hard as you possibly could to put distance between the two of you. 

“M’terribly sorry for all this. Do you have a name? Mines Fiddleford. Fiddleford Mcgucket,” 

He didn't reach for the jar, he didn't even get closer to examine you. He just sat still, patiently waiting for you to respond. 

Ford interjected. 

“I already tried talking to it directly, but it gave me no response apart from when we were on the stairs and it was just babbling-” 

“y/n.” 

Both the humans in the room froze at your weak voice. Of course, it was rough and scratchy from your prior sobbing, but they heard it regardless. 

“Thats.. That's my name.” 

You could see the way Fiddlefords mouth pinched into a small smile. Almost one of pride at being able to get a response from you. 

Ford didn't look upset, but he most definitely wasnt pleased at the thought of the creature preferring Fiddleford over him. After all, he had been the one to discover it, it should want to talk to him. 

“Pleased to meet ya, I would offer you a handshake but… Well, I doubt you'd be able to shake more than my pinky” 

His chuckle soothed you slightly. Your chest still felt tight, reminding you of just how terrible you looked probably as you wiped your tears away finally. 

You even caught yourself trying to smile out of politeness before resting your shaking hands in your lap. 

You could see the way Fiddlefords eyebrows pinched together in concern. 

“Do ya need any water? How long have you been in there?” 

“I uh-” 

Neither of the humans heard you as Ford stepped forward again and let out a sigh. 

“I’ve only had it in there for an hour or so, if we let it out it could run.” 

It most definitely felt longer than an hour. Time must’ve been moving faster since you were in such a panic. 

Your body instinctually tensed up as Ford stepped closer. Making Fiddleford finally snap as he stood from his crouch. 

“I need a word with you alone,” 

He didn't even wait for Ford to respond before yanking him by the sleeve out of the room. Leaving you alone once more as you heard the front door slam. 

…

“Ford. Ya can't just trap someone in a jar and expect them to be okay. Mentally and physically speakin’.” 

Ford was being actively chewed out and by his assistant no less. 

He crossed his arms across his chest defensively. His hands tightened on his forearms. 

“I never hurt it! I only asked it a few questions, even the Gnome was calmer than it!” 

“The Gnome was an entirely different situation! You asked him if he wanted to come with you! You just found this… What did you call them?” 

“Parva persona.” 

Fiddleford ran a hand through his hair before reaching into his jacket and pulling out his tobacco. Ignoring the way Ford groaned to himself as the mechanic put a bit in his lip. 

“Whatever. Not their name anyway. And while yer’ at it quit callin’ them an it. It's dehumanizing.” 

Ford unfolded his hands and threw them in the air before gripping the railing of his porch. 

“Exactly my point Fiddleford! They’re not human! It's abnormal! By all rules of science, it shouldn't even be possible for something as small as it to exist!” 

Fiddleford spit a bit of his chewing tobacco off the porch before slowly getting more agitated with his partner. He could be so smart but so dumb most of the time. 

“What makes something deserving of basic decency Ford? Because ill tell ya’, its normally when they look human but smaller and can speak English. I think you even treated the Gnome with more dignity! You didn't trap him in a jar!” 

Ford didn't quip back saying he did put the gnome in a cage after questioning it for a few days to research it. He just sighed and looked off into the woods. 

“...I just don't want my discovery to run off if we let it out. If it runs I don't think ill get another opportunity for answers.” 

“Why not just talk to them? M’sure you could get them to hang around, you’d just have to accept getting answers slowly. An while yer at it stop puttin’ em in jars.” 

…That might work. If Ford could make some sort of connection with it he could get more answers than just interrogating it in the jar. Ford could see the look in his eyes and before he could stop it the other man was already going back into the cottage. 

With a heavy groan, Fiddleford spat out the last of his tobacco off the porch into the grass before following him. 

He had a feeling this would be a long night with no sleep. For both him and the creature in the jar.

. . .

TAGLIST: @i-am-tiredd

Thank you so much for reading!! More updates soon :)

[uglygirltrying]

summary - enemy!ghost x enemy!reader - both have been separated from their teams. in the middle of desperation, and a snow blizzard, ghost makes the (stupid) choice of helping the enemy.

you kept falling in and out of consciousness, your eyes fluttering open for a moment, and then closing again the next. cold snow surrounded you, as you laid limp on the ground, heavy blizzard blowing down on you and wind hitting your face. the adrenaline started to slowly wear off, and you could to feel the bruises all around your body from the explosion. suddenly, you perked up. footsteps, coming from your three, snow crunching under the heavy steps of whoever was coming towards you. your breath came our desperate and slow. your eyes fluttered open once more. but this time, even through your hazy sight, and the blizzard around you, you could make out a shadow standing above you. your breath hitches, but you couldn't find the strength to keep your eyes open any longer. you went under again. how convenient.

your head throbbed violently, pain radiating around your body. crackling of fire filled your ears. it's warm. hot even, compared to how you were, in your mind, just a moment ago. slowly, and with great effort, you managed to open your eyes. you're in a cabin. not a fancy one unfortunately, a rotten, and dust filled one. but at least you're out of the snow.

"stay calm." ghost didn't want to spook you, but he wanted you to know about his presence. even if it came at the price of your tiny frame tensing up and looking around franticly. finally you found him, your brows furrowed, and your eyes wide, in fear. ghost sighed. he just had to make his life even harder. but he couldn't resist a pretty woman. even less, a pretty damsel in distress. even if she's supposed to be the enemy.

"yer lucky you didn't need stiches. wrapped you up bloody good tho." ghost murmured, standing up from his spot, and making his way closer. he kneeled down beside your form, snug in his sleeping bag. your wide eyes followed his movements, obviously wary of him, the enemy.

ghost ignored your stare, knowing that you're still far too weak to attack him, even if you wanted to. ghost ripped open a mre packet, and began to feed you crackers. embarrassment flooded your mind, being hand-fed by a intimidating enemy soldier. the brit chuckled at the blush decorating your soft cheeks. eventually, he tossed the mre packed aside.

"you gonna let me in, luv?" ghost sighed, pulling down the sleeping bag's zipper. you couldn't keep in the whimper as he slowly moved you. "i know, luv, i'm sorry..." ghost murmured, gently moving you, until he fit next to you in the sleeping bag. his big arms wrapped around your small form.

"you gonna kill me in my sleep?" ghost chuckled, his fingers running up and down, on the bare skin of your arm. your head shook meekly.

"no?"

"bet yer afraid of what i might do..." ghost darkly chuckled in your ear, and nuzzled against your soft cheek. ghost basked in the feeling, when you kept quiet without an answer.

"don't ya worry, luv... i'll make sure we'll be alright..." he told you. his arms were wrapped around you, the fire and his body kept you warm, your wounds were taken care off, and your stomach was full.

maybe you'll be alright.

tried to write in another style. first person pov makes me kinda uncomfortable because i don't like to force the reader to accept one thing without alternatives idk ifykyk 😭that's why she doesn't say anything, sorry if this is crap, im just yapping

[shitsndgiggs]

Kenan Yildiz coming back from a game and he finds his girlfriend having a panic attack and he tries to calm her down but it doesn’t work so he keeps kissing her till she’s calm. Ending in him cuddling her telling her how much he loves her .

A/N: I ended up making this more angsty than fluffy

IN HIS ARMS - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan helping you through a panic attack

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

I sat on the floor in the middle of the living room, my back pressed against the couch, hands trembling as I tried to breathe through the tightness in my chest.

It felt like the walls were closing in, my heart racing uncontrollably. Every breath I took felt too shallow, like I couldn’t get enough air, and my head spun with the overwhelming sensation of panic.

This wasn't the first time I'd had a panic attack, but it still felt just as terrifying every time. Usually, Kenan was there to help calm me down, but tonight he was at his game, and I was alone.

Then, I heard the door creak open, followed by the familiar sound of Kenan dropping his gym bag on the floor. I barely registered his footsteps, my mind clouded with panic.

"Y/N?" His voice was soft at first, but when he saw me, the panic in his own voice became clear. "Baby? What’s wrong?"

He rushed over, dropping to his knees in front of me, eyes wide with worry. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

I couldn’t answer. My throat felt tight, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I tried to open my mouth, but nothing came out except for quick, shallow breaths. The more I tried to calm myself, the worse it got.

Kenan’s panic skyrocketed. His eyes darted over me, like he was searching for some external injury, something he could fix. "Y/N, breathe, baby. Please, just breathe. You’re okay."

I could see the fear in his eyes now. He had no idea how to help, and it was making him just as frantic. He grabbed my hand, his grip firm, but it didn’t stop the shaking.

"Do you need water? Do you want to lie down? Do you want me to call someone?" He was rambling, his own panic mixing with mine. "I don’t—please, tell me what to do, baby."

I tried to focus on his voice, but it was like I was trapped in my own head. My vision was blurry from the tears that had started to spill over, and I was gasping for air, trying desperately to breathe normally.

Kenan ran a hand through his hair, his breath coming out shaky now. "Okay, okay, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m right here." He knelt down fully, pulling me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me like he was shielding me from the world.

His voice broke when he spoke again. "Y/N, I don’t know what to do. Please, talk to me."

The panic in his voice only made me cry harder, and I buried my face in his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline.

My breaths were coming in quick, painful bursts, and Kenan’s hand cupped the back of my head, pulling me even closer.

Then, something shifted. He stopped panicking, his arms tightening around me as he began kissing the top of my head. "It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you. You’re safe."

He kissed my forehead, then my temple, his lips lingering on my skin. "I’m here. Just breathe with me. You’re okay."

The kisses were slow, gentle, like he was trying to coax me back to reality with every touch. I could feel his heart racing beneath my hands, his chest rising and falling in time with his deep breaths, and slowly, slowly, I started to match them.

His lips trailed down to my cheek, brushing softly against the skin wet from my tears. "You’re okay, Y/N. You’re safe."

The panic was still there, but it wasn’t as overwhelming now. His kisses were like an anchor, pulling me back, grounding me.

He kept kissing me, over and over—on my cheeks, my jaw, the corner of my mouth, each one slower than the last.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing another soft kiss to my lips. It was barely a touch, but it was enough to remind me of where I was—who I was with.

The tightness in my chest began to ease, my breaths becoming less labored. The shaking in my hands stopped, replaced by a deep exhaustion that hit me all at once.

Kenan pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. "You’re okay now?"

I nodded, too tired to speak, but I could see the relief flood his face. His hands were still trembling a little, and I realized just how scared he had been.

"You scared me," he admitted quietly, his voice shaky. "I didn’t know what to do."

"I’m sorry," I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying.

He shook his head immediately. "No, don’t apologize. Just… don’t scare me like that again, okay?" His voice cracked a little, and it broke my heart to see him like this—so worried, so panicked.

"I won’t," I promised, my head resting against his chest again. I could feel his heart slowly calming down now, the thumping in his chest becoming steadier.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice small but filled with gratitude.

"You don't have to thank me," he said softly, holding me a little tighter. "I love you, Y/N. I'd do anything for you."

I smiled against his chest, my heart swelling with love for this man who had become my entire world. "I know."

[vickyvicarious]

Today's entry is full of Lucy/Jonathan parallels. It's so many throughout... I can't possibly quote every single one, but here are a few big things.

I write this and leave it to be seen, so that no one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is an exact record of what took place to-night. I feel I am dying of weakness, and have barely strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the doing.

vs

If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-bye. (5 May)

+

These may be the last words I ever write in this diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself on my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find me ready. (30 July)

Lucy is writing with the specific intent of keeping anyone else from getting into trouble through her - in other words, so none of the maids or her doctors or whoever will be blamed for her murder if she dies before the night is through. The first quote from Jonathan is not really a direct match to this sentiment, of course. But while I couldn't remember a perfect quote to compare, we see hints throughout his journal that Jonathan is writing in the hopes that someone else might someday see it. Perhaps Mina, perhaps some other guest to the castle... he hopes that the explanation of what happened to him, and detailing of what Dracula is, will prove useful. Perhaps it will help someone else protect themself - just like Lucy hopes here. (This is of course not his only reason for writing. Another major reason why is how it helps to keep him sane and helps him plan escapes. Still, it is one of his reasons.) And certainly, the sentiment that the record is important to keep even at risk to oneself, is a shared link between them. Both of them also show a determination to face their death directly.

This line is also an echo of the various times Jonathan (and, more recently, Jack) experienced something seemingly impossibly horrific, and made a big point that they were writing things down exactly as they happened.

The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I recovered consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing bell was tolling; the dogs all round the neighbourhood were howling; and in our shrubbery, seemingly just outside, a nightingale was singing.

vs

Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere far below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating motes of dust to take new shapes to the sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself struggling to awake to some call of my instincts; nay, my very soul was struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to answer the call. I was becoming hypnotised! (24 June)

Lucy awakens after the first attack of the night to the sound of dogs howling (amongst other things). Jonathan too has been saved from a trance by this noise, though in his case it was a close call. Dracula certainly seems to have successfully hypnotized her and most likely did drink from her between his arrival in the room (the dust swirling in) and the maids'.

What am I to do? what am I to do? I am back in the room with mother. I cannot leave her, and I am alone, save for the sleeping servants, whom some one has drugged. Alone with the dead! I dare not go out, for I can hear the low howl of the wolf through the broken window.

vs

I fear I am myself the only living soul within the place. (8 May)

+

What shall I do? what can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful thing of night and gloom and fear? (24 June)

+

Suddenly it struck me that this might be the moment and means of my doom; I was to be given to the wolves, and at my own instigation. There was a diabolical wickedness in the idea great enough for the Count, and as a last chance I cried out:— "Shut the door; I shall wait till morning!" and covered my face with my hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment. (29 June)

These are only a few of the lines that Lucy's quote reminds me of. This is the big one, there's so much to connect in it.

Like Jonathan, Lucy is alone with the dead. Dracula has sabotaged her only chance of reaching out to other people for aid (drugged maids = workers in the yard, people who saw Dracula dressed as Jonathan). She also feels duty-bound to stay by her mother's side, in a way which reminds me of Jonathan's feeling of obligation towards Mr. Hawkins (all the more as Mina's letter today emphasizes how familial their relationship has become). Like Jonathan, Lucy cannot see any options to escape from the living nightmare she is experiencing.

Like Jonathan, Lucy cannot leave because if she does, she fears a wolf will get her. (Much like Jonathan, she is earlier in her memorandum able to distinguish a wolf howl from a dog's, despite never hearing one before.) Even though she does not really expect to live through the night, she cannot make the choice to go out and face almost certain death. She's even recently seen the wolf kill a mother, to really drive the comparison with Jonathan's experiences home. (A contrast between the two is, of course, the mother he saw die was trying to rescue/avenge her dead child, but was too late. Mrs. Westenra seeks comfort from her daughter tonight, and as she dies unwittingly steals away Lucy's protection (garlic), thus holding true to her role of accidentally endangering her further.)

The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the draught from the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. What am I to do? God shield me from harm this night! I shall hide this paper in my breast, where they shall find it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother gone! It is time that I go too. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I should not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!

vs

Then I began to notice that there were some quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They were like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and gathered in clusters in a nebulous sort of way. (24 June)

+

God help me in my task! Good-bye, Mina, if I fail; good-bye, my faithful friend and second father; good-bye, all, and last of all Mina! (25 June)

(I've run out of new colors and am recycling. These aren't meant to match to the above instances of these colors.)

Like Jonathan described his experience being hypnotized by the vampire ladies, Lucy too sees Dracula's form as circling specks (twice, in fact, the other quote being above). The lights going blue and dim are also reminiscent of the various times Jonathan describes moonlight at the Castle. I especially think of just before he meets the vampire women, when he muses about the powers that modernity cannot defeat, and his modern lighting is contrasted to the moonlit room. Here, Lucy's modern lighting is going out as the supernatural invades her bedroom.

Lucy bids her final farewells to her mother and her fiance. In the quote I gave, Jonathan does the same for his father figure and his fiancee. Both of them invoke God for help. Both of them end their entries with this thinking of the one they love most. Jonathan of course does this multiple times, but I'm only quoting this one instance as it feels like the closest match overall.

And once again, we also see multiple comparisons beyond what I directly quoted. Lucy reiterates her expectation of death as in the quote at the top, and even chooses to hide her memorandum in her clothes, much as Jonathan hid his diary on his person at all times. (The difference being, he wanted to hide it from Dracula; she wants to ensure hers is seen by someone.)

[aayakashii]

❤️17 fluffy towa please!!

i LOVEE your fics so muchh keep up the good work!! :D

17❤️ An upside-down "Spider-Man" kiss

21❤️ wildcard

This is very short but I hope you guys like it! It's not proof read, so forgive any grammar mistakes ;w;

You braced yourself as you approached the pathway that led straight to your dorm, holding the straps of your backpack tightly. You breathed deeply and steeled your resolve, gathering all the courage you had in you.

That night, you were going to put an end to that. That night, you wouldn’t get spooked. That night, in fact, you planned to act on your revenge plan once and for all.

You would NOT let Towa jump at you from the tree branches and startle you out of your skin like he had been doing for the past week.

It started innocent, it truly did. The first time he just wanted to show you the tree he loved so much – the one with dimming colored lights.

But apparently, your reaction was so interesting, that Towa simply couldn't have enough of it and what was supposed to be one silly little prank, soon became almost a daily routine.

“Boo!” Towa dropped from the tree, legs firmly holding him on the branch as his upper body was upside down and dangling in front of you.

“WAAH!” you jumped in place, almost colliding with his face.

“Hehehe! Dandelion, your reactions are so cute. I love them!” he said, blushing furiously as all the blood from his body went straight to his head while he dangled in front of you like a Christmas tree ornament.

You tried very hard to look him in his eyes instead of the exposed skin of his tummy. He had a mole right next to his belly button and it took all your self-control not to touch it nor pinch that apparently soft skin.

You put a hand over your racing heart and sighed, shutting your eyes tightly.

“Towa! This is the fourth time in, like, seven days! You're gonna give me a heart attack!”

He quickly sat upright on the branch again and leapt down, walking leisurely towards you as if he didn't just show insane core strength and aerobic prowess.

“I can't help it, you're so cute. I like seeing you surprised.”

You pursed your lips in a thin line. There it was. His flirting. You still weren't used to it after all that time.

“Well it's not that fun for me, you know… I get scared.”

Towa pouted, giving you his killer puppy eyes.

“Awww… but I like it.” He shrugged, completely ignoring your complaints, and grabbed your hand. “Now let's go see the tree!”

It was basically a new routine you'd have to be prepared for at that point: Towa would spook you, grab your hand and pull you towards the tree. Then you two would hug it and lay down to watch the stars until he'd begin to fluster you whenever he hovered a little bit too close for comfort from your lips. And your poor heart would beat faster and faster once again.

You just had to give your frazzled nerves a break.

So, you had planned to knock him off his feet and surprise him just as much.

The problem was, you didn't know when he would show up.

Two days had passed since your last spook and you've been bracing yourself ever since. The anticipation was causing you so much anxiety that you feared this would be his biggest fright yet, since you had been on edge all along.

You walked slowly, giving yourself a pep talk in your mind about how he'd be just as surprised (and probably delighted) with your idea as you were spooked every single time he dropped from one of those trees. You also hoped that would give him time to arrive and act on his little prank.

As you kept on walking, you heard leaves shuffling on the tree a few steps in front of you. It was either him or some of the many cats that lived on campus. You crossed your fingers and moved forward, hoping it was him, so you'd be done with your anxiety.

And sure enough, after you took a few steps, a familiar mop of lavender hair dropped down in front of you.

“Boooo!!!”

“GAAAH!!” you yelled, your voice going up pitches you've never reached before.

“Hahaha!! Dandelion! You yelled so loud today! That was so cute!” Towa reached out his arms towards you and placed them on your shoulders as he giggled uncontrollably, closing his eyes and scrunching his nose, finding your distress absolutely hilarious.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm your heart down as much as you could, as you stared straight into his eyes.

At your silence, Towa stopped giggling and opened his eyes. He tilted his head once he saw how serious you looked while you quietly observed him.

“Hm? What's wrong, Dandelion? Did you get too scared?”

You exhaled slowly through your mouth and stepped closer, awkwardly placing your hands on his cheeks. He just tilted his head again, to the other side that time, clearly curious about your weird actions.

“What are you doing, Dandelion? Are you still sc–”

You interrupted his question by hastily crashing your lips on his – his upside-down position making for the weirdest kiss you have ever given in your life. You didn't know what to do nor where to move, so you just held his face tenderly and placed your lips against his as comfortably as you could.

Once you broke the kiss, you breathed deeply once again, heart still racing but mildly satisfied to see his mouth agape and eyes wide open.

“N-now I've surprised you too.” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting.

Towa blinked at your words and, in half a second, he had gotten down the tree and stood straight in front of you.

His cheeks were still flushed while a small smile began tugging at the corner of his lips. His hands rested comfortably on your neck and he leaned forward, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

“Can you do that again, Dandelion?” he whispered, voice full of glee.

You gulped before nodding and placing a small peck on his red lips.

Towa licked his lips, eyes closed as if he was savoring the taste of your mouth on his, and you felt a shiver run down your spine while you observed his actions.

He opened his eyes, iris barely visible around his dilated pupils.

“Again.” he whispered, and you complied, lips resting a little longer on his.

“Again.” and you ran your hands through his hair, bringing him closer.

“Again.” he said, diving back into a kiss before you could even register he had whispered that word once more.

“Again. Again… Again, again, again” he kept on whispering, placing a kiss on your lips for every word he repeated.

You turned into a flustered mess in his hands and your heart drummed loudly while he held you tightly and flush against his body, suffocating you with his kisses.

But, this time, you definitely weren't complaining.

[aziraphales-library]

hello, i've been on the aziraphale-centric fics kick because he is one of my favorite characters ever :( <33 i wondered if you all have any azi centric fics to recommend? i really like hurt/comfort and hurt aziraphale :-) thank u <3

Hi. We have some Aziraphale-centric fics here, so check those out (it includes that one you're thinking of, so you don't need to add it in the notes). Here are some more...

A Gradual Acceleration by PunJedi (G)

Aziraphale has to deal with 6000 years worth of pent-up feelings and what happens when the world doesn't end on schedule. It's a tricky thing, love; his modus operandi has been to ignore it. But there reaches a point at which it simply cannot be ignored. Crowley is willing to wait, though.

It's Not The End Of The World by mellohirust (T)

“I think I'm still worried about… our old sides.” This is where he expects said bomb to explode. This is his fatal flaw, that he hasn't actually moved on, that things aren't actually as over as he wants them to be. It's all they've ever wanted, and they didn't truly have it. Not in his mind. Not somewhere deep within him, like a disease, like something he couldn't pry out of him. How selfish would he be, to drag the other down with him just for reassurance, force him to relive it all? Crowley stays quiet. Aziraphale feels as if he's confessed to something awful, like a part of him was fundamentally incompatible with the other. Aziraphale suspects both of these things could be the case and Crowley would love him anyway. He has it written down, somewhere in his mind, what Crowley ought to say. It’s not what he actually winds up saying. “Yeah,” the other finally mumbled, after what felt like eternity. He draws a breath. “Yeah, me too.” - Aziraphale hasn't been able to let himself rest in six thousand years. Crowley's determined to help him change that, even if addressing the root of the problem is more unpleasant and complicated than either would've hoped for.

So Still I Wait by HotCrossPigeon (T)

Aziraphale asks one too many questions. What is Heaven to do with their wayward Principality? Crowley picks up the pieces. (Solitary confinement warning)

A Hard World for Little Things by GiggleSnortBangDead (E)

When the Almighty Lord created the universe and decided that desire would exist within it, They hadn’t exactly said: “This shall go on top, and this on bottom.” But there was an ordering of things and a hierarchy of desire. That’s how it was explained to Aziraphale. All of us serve, he had been taught, and some of us are happy to serve a little more.

Night and Day by wyrmy (E)

Aziraphale Engel, black sheep of his strictly religious family, lives a quiet and monkish existence in the middle of London, trying to avoid the many temptations of the flesh and do his bit for the church that his father founded. But his quiet, untroubled, and unhappily narrow existence is about to come to an end, and he will be faced with the choice to give up even more of who he is or to survive in the real world.

Smitten at First Fright by Oopsynini (M)

Aziraphale has problems. No one needs to tell him so, he's well aware that his issues are many and in-between. He's an agoraphobic shut-in with a bad back and a sad past. It's a rule that, to most, he isn't much worth the effort of getting to know. Crowley doesn't seem to abide by any of that. He's an enigmatic gardener with a green thumb and a smile a thousand miles wide. It's something like love at first sight; if that included a panic attack and a minor foray into bird watching. Aziraphale is smitten, now if only he could get past his fears and admit it.

- Mod D

[ultfreakme]

Jon and Co-dependence: my boy's mad at me. i'm going to make him move in w/ me and make him popcorn

Absolute Power: Super Son gave me a lot to think about. In terms of writing I really can't complain, it was executed very well for a one-shot. But in terms of characters, I'm frustrated(in a way indicative of good writing) about Jon and Nia.

This issue does not resolve Jon's problems, it brings them to audience awareness in an explicit manner. People who've been keeping a keen eye on Jon saw this coming since 2021 in SOKE but no writer stated it in clear terms on page this way. Avoidance, denial, and an inability to think in terms of his humanity and only as a tool or a part of a whole(family, romance, friendship). Jon knows he's avoidant, he doesn't like thinking about his trauma or talking about it, he will suffer through it alone. Even in his deepest, most lowest moment, he speaks of his own trauma in terms of his family.

His autonomy and individuality have been slowly chipped away by the prospect of being Superman. Superman does not live for himself, he takes risks and sacrifices himself for the greater good. That label and the shadow of his father in that suit has been following him since he was 9-10 years old.

The only thing Jon seems to want solely for himself, is Jay.

Up until this point, Jon has been fairly chill and normal about seemingly on the surface. Their relationship was always very sweet, they were always on the same page and never had a reason to fight. There is a deep admiration and respect between them. But the understanding, the ability to see the person for who they are at their core, has yet to happen.

Regardless of that, Jon loves Jay in a way that is damn near unhealthy and codependent.

His love for Jay is what breaks Jon out of Brainiac Queen(BQ)'s control, but it makes him reckless and impulsive. He needs Jay in his life. Throughout the issue, Jay was pointedly not present in the dreams Nia constructed to keep Jon's mind safe from BQ's attack. This is precisely what kept breaking any shield Nia put up.

Jay's absence drives Jon deeper into spiraling. The lies Nia made for Jon never, ever worked because Jay was missing. A dream of his which Nia repeatedly showed Jon and which Jon has admitted is his wish to move to San Fran and get an apartment with Jay in it.

Nia gave him the apartment and the city but not the man and that always, ALWAYS broke Jon out. When Nia isn't around to keep things in-check, Jon just spontaneously remembers Jay on his own and inserts him into the dreamscape.

Nia built those dreams to protect Jon, but also to help him in fighting back but Jon was extremely weak to BQ's control regardless of those efforts. The only time Jon manages to find the strength to fight back is when Nia drops the dreams and instead just shows him the truth of BQ and acknowledges his trauma. She correctly identified that Jon needs help to fight back, but not through falsehoods, but through the truth.

That's when Jon fights back and breaks out of the control. At every turn, Jay and the things he stands for are what pull Jon out of false comfort.

There's those phrases right? Sweet dreams. Ugly truths. That's Nia and Jay.

The reality with Jay is nothing like a dream but Jon would rather take the pain of reality than be trapped in fake happiness. There was a pattern in the issue where Jon kept texting Jay after every dream session with the Amazonians. Jay checking in asking if he's okay, Jon replying he's 'totally fine' despite not feeling like that. Jay was his guide to the truth in SOKE, AOSJK, and now Super Son.

Jon's had his reality fucked with a LOOOOOOOT. Manchester Black, Waller & BQ, Injustice Universe, and the whole space trip. Jon has had this existential turmoil since he was a child, it was made worse by his trip to space with Jor-El. The impossibility of his existence is frequently emphasized. Most people see it as a miracle, Jon sees it as point of fear and doubt about his existence. He needs something, anything to stay above the surface and that is Jay.

Like, it is now canon, that Jay is Jon's tether to reality. He is the one thing he will selfishly ask for himself and by golly is he selfish about it. He clings. It's a repeated pattern.

The night they become official, the tendencies start showing.

SOKE establishes that Jay is always the one letting go, and Jon is always the one holding on by any means necessary. This leads to so truly ✨Problematic✨decisions on Jon's part.

A list, if I may:

Gives Jay a new suit and half-proposes to him with a legion ring

Nearly fights Batman over him

Goes to Jay's counterpart in the injustice-verse with no evidence of if he may be good or not and just trusts him blindly

Took Jay to his own Fortress of Solitude and planned on keeping him there during the Siege of Gamorra

Burst in through a wall because he thought Jay was in danger

Asks to move in with him and move across the country with him

Safe to say, Jon needs Jay in some deep, fundamental, and kind of unhealthy way. The last one happens when Jay suggests it's not going to work between them if Jon insists he must forgive Nia. You don't define your own reality based on one person if you don't got issues, and unfortunately Jay does dish it like it is and calls himself the truth so like Jay was doomed from the second he opened his mouth and posted his recordings online.

Jay suggested breaking it off-- for understandable reasons- and within five minutes Jon dropped his very first "I love you" to Jay and asked him to move in with him.

This kind of leads to Jon deifying Jay and not seeing him entirely as a person. Jay is deeply upset about his mother's death, when Jon just rush at him with moving in together, Jay cries but doesn't immediately agree. He actually pulled away and seemed like he might have protested if not for the Amazonians calling Jon in to stop Waller.

Jay's relationship with Jon is filled with this, and Jay has to call Jon out to slow down and address Jay's issues(this makes him sound so bad, he really isn't, he' just gets too caught up in "protect him protect him protect him" mode when he's under distress). He does this when Jon is about to leave him to go fight Bendix, and in AOSJK when Jon's being all happy about getting to go out freely in public while Jay's stuck wearing disguises.

Jon's tendency to view Jay as his tether leads to him dismissing Jay's very human, raw and awful emotions. It's why he's so shocked when Jay feels nothing about Nia's death. It's also why he's quick to just ignore the topic and because yeah he feels terrible about it but if he keeps pushing this, Jay will leave him.

Jay's story.....is one of a loss of autonomy, just as much as Jon's. It happens in how he gains his powers, the way Nia betrayed him, the loss of his secret identity which he HEAVILY relied on to convey news, the seeming loss/ lowered involvement with The Truth news streams, and frequently with Jon where Jon chips at it with his desperate need to keep Jay by his side.

Jay doesn't dream of San Fran. Jay doesn't dream of shared apartments. No one has yet to properly let Jay cry about the loss of his country and his mother. Jon's avoidance strategy HURTS Jay here in an immense way.

If this keeps going, this relationship is going to break. Jay's always putting up with this, with Jon, because at this moment, he has no family. Jon is his closest tie to anyone, he can't let him go either because if he does he loses his entire support system but he's willing to since he actually prioritizes his grief over his mother. Jon centering Jay as a concept around his desire for himself is going to cause huge problems in the future.

Anyways, Jon's a freak, free Jay. Stan toxic yaoi.

[la2yn0va]

Crazed Deprivation

CW: Crazy Reader.

Character: Feixiao

——

Feixiao had always known there was SOMETHING off with you. From the warnings and constant worries from your one close friend about your sleep schedule, to your strange tendency to sleep wherever whenever.

She didn’t think much of it at first, until she heard you laughing late at night. The laugh was nothing like the laugh she grew to love from you, rather it was…crazed. Unhinged, Insane, Creepy.

The laugh that made her shiver in fear of YOU. Her own lover. She couldn’t help it anymore, she couldn’t stand being afraid of YOU, she needed to find out what was wrong with you.

She asked your one and only friend if they had any idea what that laugh was about. They were terrified, which made her more curious and scared.

They explained what they knew about your condition. If you miss a day of sleep, your whole mind changes into something dark, crazy, inhuman.

Feixiao couldn’t believe it, what condition was that? Surely it couldn’t be true? If it was, why wasn’t it well known?

She decided to take a risk, and sent you out on a late night mission, a simple escort mission through a borisin camp and towards a remote village.

She watched you from the trees as you effortlessly finished the mission, but then once you left the vicinity your demeanor changed. Your eyes wide, a smile creeping onto your face, bloodshot lines appearing in your sclera.

She watched in disbelief, believing it was a hallucination or a trick of some kind. But then she heard that laugh, the same laugh that made her start this whole ‘experiment’

You weren’t ‘you’ anymore, she immediately knew this was someone else. Your once charming sleepiness was replaced with a fire in your eyes, fire that wanted to see chaos.

She swallowed, her mind screaming at her to stop you before you do ANYTHING, yet her heart told her it’s still you. She listened to her mind once she saw you punching a tree and laughing at the pain.

M/n?: Come out! I know you’re here somewhere!!

Feixiao’s eyes widened, suprised that ‘M/n’ could sense her. She sighed before showing herself, and surprisingly, his eyes widened with…love?

M/n?: Darling!! It’s you!!

Feixiao:…M/n?

M/n?: That’s me, dear~!

She didn’t lower her guard, this was m/n’s face. But NOT m/n. Instinctively, she dodged an attack to her face. Grabbing this impostor and slamming him onto the ground, quickly restraining him.

Imposter: Hey—!! That’s not how you treat your lover~

Feixiao: Silence! I won’t tolerate your trickery impostor! Who’re you!

Imposter:…Tsk…I’m your lover— NGH!!

She tightened her grip, not allowing any movement or smartass responses.

Impostor:…LET ME GO!! IVE BEEN IN GHDI BRATS BODY FOR TO LONG TO LET HIS FUCKING MASTER TO CHAIN ME DOWN!!!

Feixiao: Answer my question!

Imposter: For a bitch with ears that reach the sky, you’re fucking deaf. IM NOT YOUR SLAVE!!

He bashed the back of his head against Feixiao’s face, making her flinch and release you for a second. He quickly tried to attack her, but she immediately stopped any movements, grabbing this imposter and slamming him against a tree, keeping his hands pinned ontop of his head.

Imposter: NGHH…!!! Ahahaha…! You know your just hurting this brats body the more your fight back. Right~?

Feixiao growled, seeing her lovers body being piloted like a meat puppet by this freak was sickening to her. She gripped harder, watching this fake wince in pain.

Feixiao: But you still get hurt. Now answer me!! WHO ARE YOU!!

Imposter: Ahahaha…!! Let me tell you something….!! I’m gonna rip those pretty fucking orbs out and— AHH!!

She began to choke him, believing if she can put this person to sleep, then the ACTUAL m/n would return to her. Her idea seemed to have merit, as the impostor was panicking and hitting her, every hit becoming weaker.

Imposter: YOU FUCKIN…. BORISIN SCUM…!!! ILL FUCKING KILL YOU….YOU MANGY DOG…!!!

He threw insults at her, yet she remained unaffected. The only sadness she felt was hitting her lovers body to save him from this scum. The imposter then smiled and began to laugh at the pain, deciding to leave some words of wisdom before IT leaves.

Imposter: Let me tell you….! When you fucking die, this brat’ll mourn…!! He won’t sleep, and I’ll return….!! And when I do…I’ll burn your precious ship….TO THE GROUND!!! AND MUTILATE….THAT PATHETIC ASSASSIN AND DOCTOR OF YOURS……!!!!

He spat out, his laughter dying out as he passed out. She let go, looking a mixed of fearful at the thought and saddened at the events.

She closed her eyes and picked you up, deciding to sleep on it.

-The End-

Sorry this ended abruptly, I got tired.

[kinascum]

STUPID LAMB ⋆ ˚｡⋆

feyd-rautha x captive!reader

wc: 4.9k | summary: each brutal encounter leaves you craving more, trapped in his twisted game of dominance. | nav ♡ taglist

18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE. noncon/dubcon. captivity/imprisonment. weapon use. substance use/drugging (not described but come on, it's the harkonnens, babe). murder/death (mentions "the attack," which is just an attack on the hkns, where most are defeated resulting in their death). blood/gore. mental health issues (or just a warning for feyd atp). sexual exploitation. forced nudity. BDSM (non-consensual).

A/N: first fic kinda nervous >.<

You're sitting in a cold, dimly lit room, the stench of fear thick in the air. The walls seem to close in around you as the echoes of distant screams reach your ears. Your heart races as you await the inevitable. The door creaks open, and in strides a figure that sends shivers down your spine—Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, his bald head gleaming under the flickering light, his eyes piercing into the depths of your soul. The very essence of his presence is a declaration of malice and dominance.

He towers over you, his booted footsteps echoing ominously on the metal floor. His handsome yet twisted face contorts into a sneer as he takes in your trembling form. You're a mere pawn in his grand scheme, a piece of information to be squeezed until you burst. But there's something else in his gaze—a hunger, a craving that makes your stomach churn and your nether regions clench in a mix of dread and unwelcome arousal.

Feyd leans in, his breath hot and minty against your face. "So, you're the one they say survived the attack," he rasps, his voice a deadly caress. His eyes rove over your body, noting every detail, every tremble. "I've got a few questions for you, and I expect answers," he says, the edge of his mouth curling into a smirk. "But I'm sure we can find... other ways to make this conversation more enjoyable."

You feel a surge of panic rising in your chest. You know nothing about the attack, nothing that could be of use to him. But as you try to protest, his hand clamps down on your throat, not hard enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your words come out in a squeak. His grip tightens, and his eyes bore into yours, demanding truth. "You will tell me everything," he growls, his thumb tracing a line down to your collarbone. "And if you don't, I'll just have to make you talk another way."

The room spins as his free hand reaches for the hem of your shirt, tugging it up roughly. You try to resist, but his strength is overwhelming. He slaps you—once, twice, three times—each blow sending shockwaves through your body. "Stay still," he hisses, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "You don't get to enjoy this." But you can't help the way your breath hitches, the way your skin burns where he's touched you.

Feyd's hand moves to the button of your pants, popping it open with a cruel flick of his thumb. He shoves them down your legs, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. He takes a step back, his eyes raking over you with a possessive glint. "On your knees," he commands, his voice thick with desire. You hesitate, but the pressure on your throat increases. You have no choice but to comply.

As you kneel before him, you can't help but notice the bulge in his pants. You know what's coming next, and your body reacts despite yourself. He grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to look up at him. "Open," he says, his voice a low growl. You obey, feeling his spit hit your tongue. The taste is salty and metallic, and you want to gag, but instead, you swallow, the action making your eyes water.

He smirks, pleased with your submission. "Good," he whispers, his voice low and seductive. He releases your hair, and you feel his hand move to his belt. The sound of it unbuckling echoes in the room, and you know you're in for a world of pain. But deep down, amidst the fear, there's a spark of something else—desire. You know it's wrong, you know you should be terrified, but there's a part of you that craves this depravity.

When his cock springs free, it's massive, thick and veiny. You can't help but stare, your mouth watering despite the situation. He grips it in his hand, stroking it slowly as a drop of his own spit falls on the glistening head. "you're not challenged, are you?" he asks, his voice taunting as he watches you do essentially nothing. "You want me to fuck your pretty little mouth until you can't think straight." You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the wetness between your legs gives you away.

He grabs your chin, tilting your head up. "Look at me," he says, his eyes burning into yours. "Beg for it." You want to resist, but the pressure in your throat is unbearable. "P-please," you whimper, hating the way the word sounds, you convince yourself you're pleading for him to stop. "Please,"

Feyd laughs, a cold, cruel sound that sends chills down your spine. "That's more like it," he says, and then he's pushing into your mouth, his cock filling you until you gag. You try to pull away, but his hand is tight on the back of your head, holding you in place. "Take it," he snarls, and you have no choice but to do as he says.

The feeling of his cock in your mouth is overwhelming, a mix of revulsion and arousal that makes your head spin. You can feel his hands in your hair, guiding you, forcing you to take more and more of him in. He's so rough, so violent, and it's terrifying and exhilarating all at once. You know you shouldn't enjoy this, but the way he uses you, the way he makes you feel so utterly powerless—it's intoxicating.

He pulls out, and you're left gasping for air, tears streaming down your face. But he's not done with you yet. "You're going to beg for me to fuck you," he says, his voice a sinister promise. "You're going to beg like the little peasant you are." His hand moves to his cock again, stroking it slowly as he watches you.

You shake your head, trying to deny the words that are forced out of you. "N-no," you stammer, your voice hoarse from his rough treatment. But the look in his eyes, the way he smirks, tells you that he's going to get what he wants. And deep down, you know you want it too.

He grabs your hair again, tilting your head back so you're staring up at the ceiling. His other hand fists in the fabric of your shirt, ripping it open to expose your breasts. He leans in, his teeth grazing your neck as he whispers, "Go on,"

You feel his hot breath against your skin, and your body responds in ways you never thought possible. "P-please," you start, your voice shaking. "Please, My Lord, take me." It's the first time you've adressed him, and it feels like a betrayal, like you're giving him a piece of yourself that you can never take back.

He chuckles, a dark sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "That's better," he says, and then his mouth is on your breast, biting down hard. You cry out, the pain mingling with the pleasure that's building in your core. His tongue flicks over the sensitive flesh, soothing the ache before he bites again, harder this time.

His hand releases your throat, and you gasp for air, your chest heaving. He notices your reaction and takes it as a sign of encouragement. "Hm," he hums satisfied, his voice a dark purr. "Keep begging."

Your mouth opens, and the words tumble out, a desperate plea for him to take you. "Please, Na-Baron, I need it. I need you to ruin me." The words are barely coherent, but he understands. He steps closer, his cock brushing against your cheek, leaving a trail of precum.

He takes your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. "You're mine now," he says, his eyes full of lust and possession. "Mine to use, mine to fuck, mine to ruin." And with that, he pushes you onto the cold, hard table, your wrists and ankles strapped down with leather cuffs that bite into your skin.

Your heart races as you feel the head of his cock nudge against your wet, swollen pussy. You can't believe you're about to let this monster inside you, but your body seems to have a mind of its own. You arch your back, silently begging for it.

He teases you, sliding the tip along your slit before pushing in just a little. "Beg for it," he says again, his voice a demand. And so, you do. "Please, please, just spare me," you whimper, the need in your voice undeniable, but in reality you're begging for it to stop, or for him to just kill you, you can't tell anymore.

With a triumphant smile, he thrusts deep, filling you completely. You scream, the pain indistinguishable. His grip on your hips is like iron, holding you in place as he starts to move, each thrust sending a jolt of agony through your body. But it's a sweet agony, a delicious torment that you never knew existed.

You can feel your orgasm building, and you know it's going to be powerful. You try to hold it back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but it's no use. You're at his mercy, a toy for his sadistic games. "Cum for me," he orders, his voice harsh. "Cum on my cock."

You feel your body tighten, your muscles clenching around him. You're so close, so close to the edge. And then, with one final, brutal thrust, you're over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your climax. He grunts, his own release following shortly after, filling you with his warm seed.

As he pulls out, you can't help but feel a sense of loss, as if a part of you has been claimed by this monster. Your vision blurs with the mix of pain and pleasure, and you realize that the line between the two has been obliterated. You lay there, panting, your body still trembling from the intensity of the experience. Feyd stands over you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes gleaming with victory.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look at him. "You liked that, didn't you?" he asks, his voice dripping with satisfaction. You shake your head, trying to deny it, but your body betrays you. You can feel your pussy still pulsing around his cum, the evidence of your climax a stark reminder of what just happened. "Don't lie," he says, his grip tightening. "I can smell it."

The tears stream down your face, mixing with the spit and sweat. You want to hate him, to despise him for what he's done, but you can't. Some twisted part of you craves the pain, the degradation. He leans in, his mouth hovering just above yours. "Say it," he demands. "Tell me you liked it."

Your voice is barely a whisper when you finally give in. "I liked it," you murmur, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. His smile widens, and he releases your hair, letting your head fall back onto the table. He grabs a handful of your spit-slicked hair again, jerking your head to the side. "Good," he says, his voice low and predatory. "Now, let's see if you can handle more."

You feel his hand move between your legs, his fingers pushing into your still-throbbing cunt. He's rough, almost painful, but you can't help the moan that escapes your lips. He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "You're going to take it all," he says, his voice a dark promise. "Every inch of me, until you're screaming for mercy."

He flips you over, so you're face down on the table, your ass in the air. He slaps it, hard, and you jump. "Spread your legs," he orders, and you do, feeling his hands on your thighs, pushing them apart. His cock nudges against your entrance, and you tense, not sure if you can handle another round. But he's relentless, pushing into you without warning, filling you up once again.

His thrusts are deep and hard, each one sending a shock of pain through your body. You try to scream, but his hand clamps over your mouth, muffling the sound. "You take what i give you," he grunts, his voice strained with his own need. "Ungrateful slut"

The room is a blur of pain and pleasure, his slaps and grunts the only sounds in your world. You can feel yourself losing control, your body responding to his every demand. Your mind screams for it to stop, but your body arches back, begging for more.

His hand moves to your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. "You're mine," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "Mine, mine, mine." The chant sends a shiver down your spine, and you know it's true. You're lost in the depravity, a willing participant in his twisted games.

And then, just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty and used. He steps back, his cock glistening with your juices. "Get dressed," he says, his voice cold and detached. "You're not done yet."

You struggle to sit up, your body aching and sore. You pull your pants up, wincing as the fabric scrapes against your sensitive skin. You know that the bruises will form soon, a constant reminder of what happened here. But as you look up at him, you can't help but feel a strange sense of anticipation. You're not sure what's coming next, but you know it's going to be just as terrifying and exhilarating as what's already occurred.

Feyd watches you, his eyes never leaving your body. "You'll be back," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. "And next time, you'll be ready to tell me everything."

You nod, too scared to speak, too overwhelmed by the experience to do anything but obey. He steps closer, his hand reaching out to stroke your cheek. His touch is surprisingly gentle, almost tender. "Good mutt," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "I'll be looking forward to our next meeting."

The door slams shut behind him, leaving you alone in the cold, silent room. You take a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself. Your body feels used, above abused, but there's a part of you that craves more. You know it's wrong, that you should be disgusted by what just happened, but you can't ignore the heat that still pools in your core.

You finish dressing, wincing as the fabric of your shirt brushes against your bruised skin. You can still feel his cum inside you, a constant reminder of his dominance. You try to stand, but your legs wobble, and you sit back down on the edge of the table. You're not sure how long you stay there, trying to process what's happened. But eventually, you force yourself to move.

You walk out of the room, your head held high despite the pain and the tears that threaten to spill over. You know you're not going anywhere—not until Feyd says so. But for now, you're free. Or as free as you can be in this prison of his making.

As you stumble through the hallways, you can't help but feel changed. The fear that once consumed you has been replaced by something else—a need, a hunger. You know he'll be watching you, waiting for you to slip up, waiting for the next time he can take you apart. And you know, deep down, that you'll be eagerly awaiting it.

You find yourself back in your cell, the cold, hard bed a stark contrast to the warmth of Feyd's body. You lie down, feeling the ache between your legs, the stickiness on your skin. You touch yourself, tentatively at first, then with more urgency. You can't get the feel of him out of your head, his cruel words echoing in your ears.

You moan, the sound barely audible as your fingers work you closer and closer to another orgasm. It's not the same without him, but it's something. Something to hold onto until the next time he decides to play his twisted games with you. And as you finally come, you whisper his name into the darkness, a silent declaration of your newfound submission.

The days that follow are a blur of pain and pleasure, fear and desire. You're subjected to his whims, his every demand met with a mix of dread and anticipation. Each time he enters your cell, you know what's to come—the slaps, the choking, the brutal fucking that leaves you trembling and begging for more.

You're not sure how long it's been, but it feels like an eternity. Time has lost all meaning in this place. All you know is Feyd, his touch, his voice, his cock. He's become your world, the center of your existence. And as much as you hate it, as much as you know you should fight, you find yourself craving the next time he'll come for you.

One evening, the door opens, and there he is again. His eyes lock onto yours, and you feel a thrill of terror and excitement. "Ready to talk?" he asks, his voice a low purr. But you know that's not what he really wants. You shake your head, your eyes wide with fear and longing. "No," you murmur, your voice trembling. "I—I can't."

He smiles, a cold, calculating smile that makes your stomach drop. "That's what I thought," he says, moving towards you. "But don't worry, I have other ways of making you speak." And with that, he grabs you, pulling you onto the bed, his hands rough as he strips you bare.

This time, he's slower, more deliberate. He takes his time, savoring every inch of your trembling body. He kisses you, his mouth bruising your lips, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You taste yourself on him, and it only makes you wetter. His hand moves down to your pussy, his fingers sliding through your slickness. You can't help but whimper, your body betraying you once again.

He pulls away, his eyes gleaming with a dark excitement. "so wet for me," he says, his voice a soft growl. "A pet so eager to be used." His thumb circles your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You try to push his hand away, but he's too strong. Instead, you find yourself arching into his touch, silently begging for more.

Feyd's smile widens, and he leans in, his breath hot against your skin. "You're going to worship my name," he whispers, his words a promise of pain and pleasure. He slides two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spot that makes your toes curl. You bite your lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatens to escape. But it's no use. You're his to do with as he pleases, and your body knows it.

He adds a third finger, stretching you wider, preparing you for what's to come. You whimper, your hips bucking involuntarily. He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "You're going to shut up" he says, his voice a dark purr. "And you're going to take my cum"

He pulls his hand away, leaving you feeling empty. You whine, your body craving his touch. But before you can protest, he's pushing into you again, his cock thick and hard. You feel yourself stretching around him, the sensation both agonizing and exquisite. He moves slowly at first, savoring the feel of your tight pussy clenching around him. But soon, the need takes over, and he starts to pound into you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure and pain through your body.

You can't hold back anymore. You scream, his name ripped from your throat in a ragged cry. He loves it, his eyes lighting up with sadistic glee. "That's it," he says, his voice a harsh grunt as you dig into his skin, dark blood staining your fingertips and dead skin finding solace under your nails. "Make me bleed"

As he fucks you, you can feel yourself losing control, your thoughts spiraling into a haze of sensation. You don't know if you're begging for him to stop or to go harder. All you know is that you need this, that you're addicted to the way he makes you feel.

And then, with one final, brutal thrust, he reaches his peak, filling you up with his cum. You feel it spurt deep inside you, the heat of it making your toes curl. Your own orgasm follows, a powerful wave that crashes over you, leaving you gasping for air.

When he pulls out, you collapse onto the thin mattress, your body spent and trembling. He stands over you, stroking his cock, watching the mixture of his seed and your blood dribble out of you. "Lord," he says, his voice a low growl. "A sight for sore eyes, huh?"

You look up at him, tears in your eyes. You know you should be disgusted, should be fighting back. But instead, all you can do is nod. You're his, in every way that matters.

He wipes his cock clean on your thigh, a final act of dominance. "Now, tell me," he says, his voice cold and calculating. "What do you know about the attack?"

And for the first time, you realize that the interrogation isn't over. The fear comes rushing back, but it's tinged with something else—a strange, twisted excitement. You know that no matter what you say, he'll always find a reason to take you again. And a part of you wonders if, deep down, you want him to.

The door opens, and two guards enter the room. "Take her away," Feyd says, his voice bored. "I'm done here."

You're dragged out of the room, your body bruised and sore. But as you're thrown back into your cell, you can't help but think about the next time he'll come for you. And a shiver of anticipation runs through you, a promise of what's to come.

This is your new reality, a cycle of pain and pleasure, fear and desire. And as much as you hate it, you can't help but crave it. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen has claimed you, and there's no escape from his sadistic games.

As you lie on the cold, hard bed, you can still feel him inside you, his cum leaking out of you. You touch yourself, the ache between your legs a reminder of what happened. And you know that no matter what, you'll never truly be free of him. You're his now, his plaything, his whore. And as you drift off into an uneasy sleep, you whisper his name, a silent promise to submit to his every whim.

[cityzenshark]

Firsts to Grow Up - One's own feelings

With Robby hospitalised, the Maltos got rocky with each other. The three humans went back and forth to Philadelphia hospital for days. Dorothy forbids the Terrans and Bumblebee from the leaving the farm. Alex puts his foot down when the Terrans insist that the magic cave water might help, reminding them of increasing GHOST activities due to the wrecked Bot Brawl in the city and Grimlock's PTSD attack near Witwicky town. Mo distances herself from the Terrans, fearing she might say the wrong thing in front of them again.

Assuming her adopted family no longer wants them, Twitch disobeys Dot and Alex and brings her younger siblings to the cave where she and Thrash starved at in the middle of the night. Thrash calls out Twitch's lack of empathy, leading to a fight between them.

Meanwhile Hashtag, who proposed the cave water idea in the first place, feels she wanted to drown.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I thought I'm the rule breaker out of us." Thrash said loudly, surprising his siblings to a stop on their not-so sneaky trek up the hill. Twitch recovered from her shock first and turned to her twin angrily.

"Thrash! Are you trying to make GHOST hear us?"

Thrash crossed his arms in disbelief. "Look who's talking. Us being out here is enough for GHOST to see us."

Twitch scoffed, "Why are you following us then, Thrash?"

"To bring you back, duh. Now let's go home before Bee notices we're missing."

"No." Twitch said firmly. "We're going to the cave with the mural in it. It's nearby."

"And then you'll come home?"

Twitch looked away. Realisation dawned on the rest of the Terrans.

Jawbreaker said in disbelief. "Are we not going home after this?"

"No, JB." Twitch replied, avoiding eye contact. "We're going to stay in the cave."

"What!" the triplets cried out in unison.

Nightshade spoke up, "Mother and father will be worried sick--"

"They don't care about us anymore, Nightshade!" Twitch yelled, floating at the owl Terran's face. "You saw how angry they are at us. You heard what Mo said. 'I wish we never found the Emberstone.'"

"Mo didn't mean that," Jawbreaker retorted. "She's super upset about Robby."

"Oh yeah? Why won't she see us anymore? Care to answer that, JB?"

"People say things they didn't mean to when their upset."

Jawbreaker felt his spark twinge when Twitch scoffed at him, "Sounds like she means it to me!"

Thrash approached his twin angrily. "You think everything is about you, Twitch? What Mo said hurts me, too. But like Jawbreaker said, she didn't mean it! Mo will come around again when Robby gets better."

"And what if he won't?" Twitch asked, challenging. "What if the hospital can't cure him? What if they take him and Mo away to experiment the sleeves?"

"If they don't…" Hashtag began. She stopped under Twitch's glare.

"If they don't what?" The drone Terran probed.

"Twitch." Thrash warned.

"I want to hear it. If they don't what, Hashtag?"

Hashtag stammered. "If-- If they don't examine the sleeves, we'll never know what got Robby sick in the first place."

Twitch groaned exasperatedly. "You've got to be kidding me! We know exactly what got Robby sick -- our lost link! The moment we can't feel each other, Robby almost died. It's so obvious."

The Terrans stared at their small sister in disbelief.

Nightshade broke the silence with a calm tone, "Twitch, sister, Robby didn't almost die because of the lost link. Our emotional link was lost because Robby almost died."

"Same difference. I thought you're the smart one, 'Shade."

Nightshade felt a hurtful pang. And then they were angry. "Is our link more important than our brother's life? Is that why you don't want to return to the farm?" Nightshade didn't wait for Twitch to respond. "I understand how important the emotional link is. Without it, we won't know how we're doing when we're not together. We literally used it so Hashtag can fight the mind control device off of her."

Hashtag slowly coiled as her triplet continued.

"Do you want to know what I really feel about the link?"

"What--"

"I'm disturbed by it."

Nightshade's triplets and Thrash were aghast.

Twitch had a look of betrayal.

"How could you?"

"How could I?" The owl Terran echoed. "How could I not! I keep feeling what you feel about things I love. I know how annoyed you all feel every time I didn't join your playtime. I understand that you want me to spend time with you, but none of you bothered to spend time with me while I tinker. I'd rather only acknowledge how annoyed you feel about my hobby, not feeling it directly."

"You could've asked us to stop feeling annoyed." Twitch said.

"'Stop feeling'? I can't ask you to not feel something, Twitch. I just don't want to feel emotions that's not my own."

"So you never wanted to be part of our family, is that it?" Twitch asked accusingly.

"Twitch!" Thrash and Hashtag cry out.

"All I want is privacy on my own thoughts and emotions. That's how it should be!" Nightshade clenched their claws into fists as they reply as calm as they could muster. "Does it ever occur to you how much the link burdens Mo and Robby?"

"They never say anything wrong--"

"They never said anything for OUR sakes!" Now Nightshade was screaming, tears prickled their eyes. "Every morning, Robby and Mo get headaches because they feel every emotion we felt the whole night before. Even our parents didn't say this to us because they love us! They don't want us to know how much we've been hurting them. Now I know I sound awful and I want to clarify I wish we never lost it like this, but perhaps losing this link is a blessing for all of us. Especially for Robby and Morgan."

.

.

.

Continuation here

[tiredsmashbros]

Memories : part one

2k words ; tsb fanfic

the battle was intense. that's all smg4 could think about. chest tightens while engulfed in fear as he dodges the attacks of a giant mallet aiming at him. barely escaping the impact by an inch. the mallet belonging to non other than the person who has been impacting smg4's life into a spiral of endless stress. the suspicious behavior pattern, lack of consideration of others, unrealistic cartoon language and logic, and even his mysterious background are what made smg4 legs shake. yet the fellow still showed acts of kindness, thoughtfulness, a sense of genuine... nothing made sense! what's worse, smg4 never expected anything weird coming from this guy from their first introduction, he genuinely was quite excited for a new friend who seemed so silly, and intrigued by the memes he shared. yet... here he was now. fighting what felt like for his life. he didn't know what to do but be on the defensive side as he grew tired and weak. doing his best to sustain stamina as the yellow, blue maniac wasn't even breaking a sweat.

"stop this man! this isn't like you!" smg3 shouted, in the hope of verbally knocking some sense into the propeller-wearing individual, despite already countless efforts beforehand. striking a punch on tsb's face, losing his grip on his mallet.

"you don't know him." the body of tsb responded, his voice giving an unusual echo, eyes narrowed exposing his brown iris, accompanied by an uncanny smile that spread across his face. letting out a childish chuckle, tsb pulls his head back and strikes onto smg3 with a head-butt move. receiving a pained groan in response to the quick attack. smg4 rushed over to aid smg3 from falling over, standing beside his guardian partner, yearning to protect him but fueled with caution of the maniac man in front of them.

"let's try our meme powers again!" smg4 suggested to smg3, catching his breath in between.

"that method is futile." tsb spoke, almost monotone, his head dripping from the side of his shoulder, "you are too tired. you don't have enough energy to input something effective." he added.

smg3 clicked his tongue, eyes filled with anger yet with a touch of sorrow. seeing tsb talk and act this way made smg3 feel uneasy. something felt off by the way he spoke and the usage of vocabulary. his mind clouded with memories, being reminded of the silly obnoxious man that would bounce out of nowhere, someone he'd spent having long talks of comfort, a bro to always be there to help... to now him aiming to beat him down till he couldn't stand on either foot. "he's right," smg3 softly spoke, "nothing we do will work. we can't beat him..." smg3 added in a defeated tone.

"finally that's progress into your head!" tsb exclaimed, adding in a child-like giggling, giving the two guardians chills down their spines. till suddenly a lightbulb sparked inside smg4.

"wait that's it!" smg4 said. "into your head!"

"what in the hell are you-" smg3 spoke, but he was interrupted by his hand being pulled away by his blue counterpart.

puzzled yet intrigued, tsb grins and starts the chase after the smg's. staying somewhat close behind, but far enough to make the chase more of a game instead. dragging his body unnaturally on purpose.

smg3 got a hold of his stance, running behind smg4 but flustered by the sudden hand grab turned into holding. "b-baka! w-where are we-"

"while i was locked up by tsb and by that weird pink sand time guy," smg4 interjected, "right before you guys found me i was starting my escape when i accidentally stumbled upon watching him put a weird helmet device onto tsb's head." the two running out of the dark void they were formally at, to a slim hallway of the same black stardust material on the walls, floor, and ceiling. "and that is relevant how?" smg3 queried, puzzled, taking a mental note of tsb following them behind. yet tsb wasn't close enough to listen to the smg's conversation.

"that helmet device is the key! i overheard that sand guy its used to go into memories of mortals!"

"so why did he put one on tsb? to manipulate and control him or some shit?"

"m-maybe? i don't know yet! but it's our ticket to hopefully stopping this rampage of his before that cartoon legit kills us! you're close with him, maybe you can try punching his chaotic shit out of his mind?" smg4 quizzed.

"pfftha! that i can do!" smg3 cheered, a smirk blooming across his face. becoming aware of the possibility of potentially saving his friend who may be mind-controlled, it just made sense! the tsb he knew would never act this strange or dangerous. an observation thought the purple guardian kept to himself, fully aware of what his partner may have opinionated if spoken aloud. smg3 may love his guardian partner, but he knows for a fact from the small crescent of his emo heart who tsb truly is as an individual. even if smg3 lacks personal background and proof to support his belief, he would curse smg4's name for believing it. he only hopes that one day smg4 could realize for himself, how wrong he is about the silly looney toon. only time could tell as smg4 continued to lead them to what seemed like an endless dream space. seeing the same black void tingled confusion in his mind, it felt like an illusion even seeing the same thing repeatedly. his eyes giving a sense of lost in reality.

finally, smg4 jerked into an open room of an iron door, a space surrounded by chalkboards, paper, technology equipment, and science shenanigans smg3 took note of. smg4 immediately began searching for one of the helmet devices he mentioned, successfully within seconds smg4 found it and held it high in accomplishment. it was shaped and looked like a thick, solid helmet made for riding bicycles, painted all white accompanied by a red, yellow, and blue stripe down the center of the headwear. immediately, smg4 began searching for a second one to complete the mind transaction process. just as he does, tsb creepily walks in announcing his entrance, "back by popular demand...ME!" the 'me' delivered in an almost demonic-like vocal expression.

smg3 let out a small cry in surprise, retreating to smg4's side, praying now that smg4 was right about this plan. "alright 3, you grab ahold of him as best you can in a still position so i can input this on top of his stupid head!" smg4 ordered, moving to the side cautiously eyeing tsb.

smg3 nodded, "got it." he spoke not as enthusiastic as before, as he began to mentally prepare to hold that crazy cartoon maniac down after already a long fighting session as his life seriously depended on it. he prepped his stance, knees bent down at a 90-degree angle, spreading his legs for a wider range. "come on now then, big boy! show daddy how much you love him!" smg3 shouted, fanning his hands as a motion to invite tsb to come at him.

tsb manically laughed, full sprinting and pouncing at smg3 letting out a fnaf 2 foxy jumpscare scream. immediately the two began wrestling hitting and smacking down tables and chairs that flooded the room, papers flying above as cords being detached were heard. smg3 attempts to land punches to only then be received with a bite on his arm instead. smg3 bit his lip in an attempt to hold in his screams of pain and instead used it as the perfect opportunity to flip their positions with smg3 now on top of him. pressing his arm further back into tsb's mouth to stabilize him with his head in an upward locked position, despite the bottom half of his body being twisted the other way due to his unnatural body physics. using his other hand to aggressively stabilize tsb's hands, whereas his foot locked down tsb's legs.

smg4 stood on the sidelines, patiently and anxiously waiting for smg3 to hold the cartoon still, and just as his partner did smg4 rushed in without a second thought placing the device on top of tsb's head. swiftly removing tsb's propeller hat to prevent it from getting in the way. remembering how the pink sand man did it on him by pressing a black button on the side to activate it. after it was finally set on tsb's head, smg4 took a step back watching as the man pinned on the ground attempted to remove the helmet to no avail.

"now what!?" smg3 yelled with a struggled tone, growing anxiously impatient and mentally screaming in agonizing pain, grinding his teeth hard as tsb only dug his teeth deeper into the purple guardian's arm urgently attempt for freedom.

"okay, okay, i just need you to hold your head still and i'll place the second helmet on you so you can mind travel into his crazy brains or whatever!" smg4 hurriedly said, just as panicked as his guardian partner. swiftly grabbing the second helmet he had behind him and rushing towards back to smg3.

however, tsb did not like the plan these partnered guardians were cooking up. this time, putting all his energy into brute force to twist smg3 down to the opposite side of smg4's path to prevent him from putting the helmet on.

the purple meme guardian screamed in agony as his head harshly hit the floor, his body positioned awkwardly to be kept down by tsb. smg4 jolted from the sudden change of control and stood frozen in fear. to tsb's misfortune, smg3 was still holding onto tsb's hands enough to continue to prevent him from manually removing the helmet. yet the catch was there was no safe possible way to input the helmet onto smg3's head without tsb interfering.

"smg3! i-i can't find a safe spot to put the helmet on you!" smg4 said worriedly, fearful of his plan coming to a defeat. it couldn't end like this, he needed to think of something! tsb only laughed to himself, concluding by default victorious without the consideration of smg3 coming to a concluded thought. a thought that not only would help them win on top but a thought that may finally answer his prayers for the person he cared most to finally understand.

"s-smg4," the purple counterpart started, "YOU have to put the helmet on!" this suggestion surprised both his partner and the animated cartoon. "you can't put it on me, but it's not impossible for you to put it on yourself. YOU got to go inside this dumb dr. pepper loving asshole's brains and fix him!"

"i-i can't do that!" smg4 stuttered, shaking anxiously realizing the aim smg3 was getting at.

"yes you can! you can do it for me or for hell's sake do it for tari! she needs out help! we can't waste anymore time smg4!" smg3 exclaimed impatiently.

"i don't know how-"

"NEITHER DO I!" smg3 bursted, "but you trust and believe in me enough to do it anyways from the start! i trust and believe right back at you man." smg4 stood idly shocked, and to his surprise so did tsb. catching himself staring into tsb's eyes, they were still narrowed like before but... this time he could see a white arrow-shape glimmer in them. it almost felt like he was pleading for him to do so, to put on the helmet... but why? as if lost time on a timer, tsb's eyes reeled back to maniac mode, and resumed his attempt to freed himself from smg3's bearable grasp. "DO IT NOW FOUR!" smg3 yelled as he pushed in all his remaining energy to hold tsb down.

in a hesitant instance, smg4 removed his hat and put the helmet on. "NOOO!" screamed tsb in a higher echoed pitch, an unrecognized voice that didn't belong to tsb. with one more glance at his best friend, the two meme guardians gave each other an agreeable nod as smg4 pushed the button. with one final physical motion as smg4 could hear the technology within the helmet activate, smg4 raised his arm up, and gave a thumbs up.

to be continued...

...

...

...

fri: “watchman” was an outworldly entity, one could even label a god, but they were much more than that. an entity by physical appearance built up by particles of pink fluidity sand. as if a piece had its own consciousness. watchman was a playful being, understood empathy, sympathized with others, and yearned to nurture those suffering in pain. romantical pain even. always watching love play… always… watching… tick tock. 

[fallentheatre]

each other's world, torn apart

minecraft end poem as a conversation between two broken brothers.

(@hoverboards-and-dragons heyyyyy)

[livingdeadvamp]

Crazy how the people accusing Palestinians of being scammers do fucking nothing else to help them! It's almost as if they're just looking for an excuse to be racist and ignore people suffering in a genocide :O