#i woke up this morning and chose violence

[bass-alien]

good morning also I’m gonna start exposing all the men on here who say out of pocket vile shit to me because I am over 👏🏼 it 👏🏼

[bethanydelleman]

Who is your favourite Darcy?

[fourphoenixfeathers]

[Warning: violence, loss of self, dehumanization]

Fight. Bleed. Ignore the noise. Kill. Survive. Stay out of the fog. The fog makes it worse.

The fiend trembles with pain and rage. Bodies fall, only to flake away into purple dust that burns its eyes and eats its mind.

Don't look up. Don’t look at the void. The void looks back and sees it and is all around it and is inside it.

Its rage overflows and it burns like a blood-colored flame. It rains destruction on the simulated horde, crystalized hatred and agony pouring from the arm that doesn’t belong to it.

It might be screaming. It can't hear over the noise in its head.

The fighting stops. The red bleeds out of its vision. For a moment, it is empty and quiet and still.

Then the orb beeps and fighting starts again.

The ally is back. Freight. The fiend doesn’t have a name, but it feels right that she does. It doesn’t remember what Freight means. The jellyfish doesn’t mind. The name stuck.

She watches it fight from outside the bubble. She lingers in the fog, wrapping toxic tentacles around enemies too far for it to reach. She knows it hates to chase them out into the poisonous air. The orb accepts her kills as the fiend’s.

Pause. Follow the orb. Heal.

It goes to activate the orb again. It cannot stop it cannot stay still it must keep going. It doesn't remember why.

Freight pulls it back. Stop fighting. Rest. It squirms in her hold. Its head rings and pressure builds and its claws glow with unreleased energy.

She wraps a cool limb around its head and drapes another over its shoulders. The noise stops and the rage drains out and it can breathe. It is quiet. There is nothing alive in the simulacrum except for the fiend and Freight.

And then there is sound. Not from it. Not from the ally. Not from the orb. Somewhere else. It stands and looks out across the simulated plain. Green light cuts through the abyss, lightning arcing into the sky from a distant battle.

It stands. This is the first time it has seen anything like this. It needs to know. It brushes Freight's arms away and she follows as it throws itself into the fog.

Outside of protection, the void digs into it. It burns all the way to its heart where poison has wormed inside over days, months, years of exposure. It wrestles with the pain, forcing the corruption in reverse, healing the damage it caused. It rails against the injustice of the thing that has twisted him beyond recognition, invaded his body and mind and soul. It has become a part of him, it cannot hold him back anymore.

Freight warbles behind him as he nears his destination. A safe zone. There is another safe zone. The circle is filled with strange wriggling things that call to him. Some kind of distant familiarity. He has seen them before.

The moment of clarity is broken by the roar of a great beast. The fiend turns away from the circle and fights. It's sloppy. It can't focus on healing and battle at the same time. Freight covers his weakness, tearing apart anything that comes close with the ferocity that evades it now.

It doesn't realize when the battle is over. A voice is yelling. It has been outside for too long. Every inch of it burns. It hisses through its teeth and turns back to safety.

"Stay back."

The figure in the circle stops it dead. The source of the green light. The familiar voice. The cannons on the person's back are raised and ready to fire. It does not care. This person is not a threat.

"Maglev. Discharge."

The figure points at one of the eels drifting in lazy circles around the safe zone. The creature does not heed the order. The fiend does not move, save for its incessant trembling.

"What are you?"

It tilts its head. It was someone, once. It was someone to this man. This man is someone to it.

Who did it used to be? Who is he? He can't remember. He taps his claws on his helmet, the rhythmic sound ringing in the crack that exposed his only remaining eye to the air. For a moment, it drowns out the buzzing in his head. It is enough.

"Emmmmettt," he croaks. It's the only thing he's ever said outside of Freight's name. His voice is quiet and harsh like the death rattles of the countless creatures he has killed. The fog threatens to steal the word away from him, just as it has stolen everything else. It fails.

Emmet falters. His weapons fall back to standby and he rushes forward, dragging the fiend into the bubble. The relief is so powerful, he shudders as they cross the threshold.

"Ingo? Ingo is it really you? I can't-" Emmet babbles and holds him in his arms.

Ingo. He is not Ingo. He is Ingo. He doesn't know. Emmet decides for him.

"Have you been here this whole time?"

He doesn't understand, but he nods. He manages to whisper something that sounds vaguely like "always".

Emmet is crying. Ingo-Not-Ingo brings his left hand up and rests it on Emmet's helmet. He feels like there shouldn't be anything in the way. He should be able to touch him. But he is grateful for the barrier. His claws leave shallow scratches on the hard surface.

Emmet puts a hand over his. It's cool to the touch.

"I am Emmet. I found you. I am going to get you out."

He doesn’t know what “out” is, but he feels something when he hears the words, the conviction in Emmet's voice. For the first time since he can remember, he feels hope.

[Art by @raynavan] [First] [Previous] [Next]

[laurelwen]

Kink Posts 2/2 Kink Post 1/2

[ayrennaranaaldmeri]

lmfao Starfield was more "finished" than Baldur's Gate 3.

[springfallendeer]

Nova’s Hands

@juicyyyboxxx @feralmoonlight @xnanosilverx @pulsarsatellite

Y’all like hands? Y’all like animatronic hands? Y’all like them doing things??? That make you FEEL things? Bitch. Get y’alls supper.

A NSFW fic featuring the boy. My favorite Eclipse. I had to ruin him.

Came out to a little over 2,500 words. So its a bit of a read.

Hands. 

There was something oddly fascinating about them. At least when it applied to a very specific animatronic. A very specific group of animatronics, more specifically. Sun. Moon. Eclipse. Nova. Other variants of that sort. 

Anything that followed the Daycare Attendant body plan had very intentionally been designed with anatomically correct hands. 

Four fingers and a thumb. Four fingers and a thumb which could bend about in ways that perfectly mirrored the movements of a human hand. 

Yet they had been made so much greater than a human hand could ever be. 

Larger. 

Stronger. 

Some had claws. Some were smooth. 

All of them were able to be moved with a precision that no human could ever replicate. Their metal structure was uninhibited by the flaws in human flesh and tissues. Bending one finger did not result in the awkward shifting of other fingers. There were no tendons or muscles there to contract and squeeze. 

You had spent a regrettable amount of time studying every possible difference between their hands and your own. To the point that the fascination had bled over into other aspects of your thoughts. 

No longer just simple observations, but a fixation. 

A greater curiosity that could not be simplified just by looking. 

Somehow, Nova had noticed. 

You don’t know when. 

You don’t know how. 

But he had noticed your bizarre obsession with his hands. And he was more than willing to help you satisfy some less innocent aspects of your curiosity. 

Because he had curiosities of his own. 

Curiosities that even you were aware of.

His body was larger than yours. His body was stronger than yours. His body was more complex than yours. 

That weakness of yours fascinates him. 

The softness of the flesh has become a fixation. 

He has already observed the little details in previous encounters. How the muscles on your arm will give and change shape to perfectly mold into his hand when he grabs you. How the skin on your fingers has just the slightest hint of give when it touches his metal body. The delicate look of your eyelids with each blink. 

While you were fixated on studying his hands, he occupied himself in studying you. 

In doing so, his observations bled into curiosities of his own. Curiosities that could easily be satisfied if he would indulge your own interests.

You were more than willing to let him satisfy those curiosities. Just as he was willing to indulge those inappropriate thoughts of yours. 

The indulgence started innocently enough. 

His hands came to settle upon your face. Slowly. Carefully. He caressed your face. He felt the softness of your skin. 

His thumbs lightly pressed against your cheeks. He observed how your skin gave way. How your face squished ever so slightly under the pressure of his hold. 

All the while he remained blissfully unaware of how even this touch only further piqued your interest. That or he had one hell of a poker face. 

With his every touch, his claws ever so slightly grazed against your skin, giving you goosebumps. That only fascinated him more. How your skin could seemingly change texture with just a little encouragement.

He brought his fingers near your eyes. You closed them. You closed them and did your best not to flinch as his fingers touched your eyelids. 

He was gentle. 

He treated you with utmost care. 

It was the anticipation of his touch that made you jolt when it finally came. 

He giggled in response, amused by your reaction. 

When he moved his fingers away from your eyes, you opened them. You opened them and were greeted by the sight of his amused, almost starstruck expression. 

He was enjoying himself. 

Good. 

You were enjoying this just as much, if not more. 

His hands moved lower. 

His fingertips danced along the skin of your neck. His teasing triggered the impulse to swallow. 

Even that fascinated him. 

He rubbed your throat more, coaxing more movements out of your esophagus.

Then, to your surprise, he squeezed. Not hard. 

One hand tightened around your neck abruptly, coaxing a gasp out of you. He carefully constricted your airway, seemingly even able to feel the breath moving through your throat. 

He moved his other hand back to your face. Specifically to your lips. 

You trembled as his fingers began to trace your lower lip. He maintained his grip on your throat even as he slowly slipped two of his fingers past your lips. 

Cold metal met the heat of your tongue. He coaxed your mouth open by spreading his fingers. For some reason your trembling only grew more dramatic as he explored your mouth with his hand. 

He snuck a finger under your tongue to feel the difference in texture. Rough on top. Slick underneath. He hardly seemed to notice that you had started to drool.

His fingers crept in deeper. Deeper. Until you could feel those clawed digits delicately stroking the back of your throat, behind your tongue. 

How you managed to prevent yourself from gagging, you had no idea. 

He withdrew his fingers once he had finished exploring your mouth. At which point he stopped squeezing your throat. 

Your face flushed as he observed his damp fingers. Slick and sticky with your saliva. 

He chuckled this time. Not a giggle. A chuckle. 

You could see a particular glint in his eyes. If he had a functional mouth, he would have licked his lips seductively. Or at least that was the vibe that that expression gave you. 

He wasn’t done with you yet. Not by a long shot. 

Until now, he’s only been exploring you with two of his hands. He still had two more, and he was eager to put them to use.

All four of his hands began to sneak their way into your clothes. 

Two began to explore your upper body. Two began to explore your lower half. 

His fingers danced along the skin of your abdomen as he slightly lifted up your shirt. 

Two of his fingers were still damp from your mouth. He left a trail of sticky skin where those fingers touched you. 

If you were trembling before, then your body was absolutely rattling by this point. From the chill of the air hitting your damp patches of skin, and from the anticipation of what he intended to do. 

His fingers wrapped around your waist. He squeezed ever so slightly as he began to move his hands higher up. Higher, higher up. Up to your chest. 

His thumbs found the skin beneath your breasts. Any clothing was ignored, or flat out shoved out of the way in order to allow him to further explore the feel of your body.

“Soft~” Nova remarks, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. His tone was upbeat. He was pleased with the feel of your body. 

His hands moved inward. He found your breasts. You arched slightly into his touch as he began to caress them. He practically kneaded them against his palms. 

Squeezing. 

Rubbing. 

Lifting. 

Fondling. 

Eventually he pressed his thumbs against your nipples, after having taken notice of how stiff they had gotten in response to his touch. 

Apparently, touching alone was not good enough. He wanted to better see how your flesh interacted with his metal body. 

Thankfully he was careful with your clothes as he pulled from free of your body. You helped him, admittedly having gotten hot due to the stimulation.

Your skin only got hotter once you noticed the intensity of his stare. 

He resumed exploring your upper half again, repeating everything that he had done before, but in reverse. 

His thumbs rubbed against your nipples, seemingly fascinated by how stiff they had gotten. Or at least he was fascinated by how stiff they were in comparison to the rest of the surrounding skin. His claws lightly pressed into them, coaxing the faintest of whimpers out of you. 

It didn’t hurt. It just startled you. 

Startled and excited you. 

His expression changed briefly to one of concern, as he rightly worried that he had accidentally hurt you.

“I-I’m okay~ Keep going.” You respond, reassuring him that you were alright. More than alright, actually. Your body had taken to tingling wherever he touched you. 

His smile returned. 

His exploration moved lower. 

Having had himself a good, long look at your upper body, his curiosity had moved elsewhere. His other hands had been casually caressing the skin of your arse as he occupied himself with your chest. 

You cooperated as he slowly pushed your pants and underwear down. 

There was no hiding the effects of his touch now. 

He didn’t even try to avert his gaze. In fact, his stare only seemed to grow more intense as he studied your pelvis. He took notice of the sticky substance that seeped from between your legs, forming translucent strands that clung to your panties as they were pulled down.

Though the impulse to cover your shame was there, you did not do so. 

He continued to squeeze and fondle your arse as he moved his other hands to your pelvis. He seemed very, very curious about what was happening between your legs.

“Down~” Nova commands, his voice gentle but laced with excitement. 

He uses his hold on you to coax you down. But he doesn’t have you lay on the floor. He has you lay on him. On his legs. 

Your head comes to rest upon his knees. You now lay on top of him, with your legs held apart by both his body and his needlessly skillful hands. 

He runs his hands along the backs of your thighs with one set of hands while lightly gripping the fronts of your thighs with the other. 

You can’t help but try to hide your face. 

He discourages this with a growl. A low, persistent growl. 

You’re supposed to watch him. You’re supposed to enjoy his hands just as he enjoys your body. 

Those devious hands of his move higher, and lower. The two behind your legs moved down to your knees to lift them. He coaxes your legs further apart. Then he holds them open. 

His other hands move to your center. A poorly restrained moan escapes you as he begins to explore your womanhood. 

He curiously spreads your lower lips. Those devious fingers of his lightly squeeze and rub against your slick flesh. 

There’s no point in hiding your voice. Between his touching and his unblinking stare, your body has grown excited beyond denial. 

Thankfully, he never forgets the power of his body. Though he touches your most delicate area with strong, clawed fingers, he never hurts you. Anything but. 

He inevitably notices where all of the sticky juices are coming from. One of his hands then occupies itself by reaching into you. 

Just one finger to start. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as he slowly traces the entrance of your vagina with his finger.

Slowly, he slides it in. He slides it in deep. 

His hands are so big. His fingers are so long. 

You feel him curiously rub against your inner walls. You watch his wide, unblinking eyes as he indulges in his newest curiosities. 

He can reach all the way to your cervix. You can feel his finger hit that spot. 

You jolt, having felt his claw come dangerously close to doing something that it shouldn’t. 

He quickly withdraws his finger, his eyes shifting to study your face. He’s worried. Worried that he’s done wrong and hurt you.

You say nothing. You can’t bring yourself to use your voice. All that you can do is bite your lip and nod, silently encouraging him to continue. 

He hesitates for a moment. Only for a moment. 

Then he returns his attention to your womanhood. 

His finger has been left slick from your excitement. He studies the sticky substance for a moment, rubbing his fingers together and then spreading them apart. He observes the thin translucent strings that form. 

Then he penetrates you once more. Faster this time. 

One finger. 

All the way to the last knuckle. He withdraws. 

Two fingers. 

Slowly this time. He sneaks them in and wriggles them about, coaxing all manner of embarrassing noises from your lips. He reaches in deep, curiously touching your cervix again. 

Thankfully he recognizes that he shouldn’t try to push deeper than that. His fingers withdraw again. 

Three fingers. 

You whine faintly, feeling how his intrusion is stretching you out. He’s still being slow. He’s still touching and feeling and spreading his fingers. At this point he’s obviously testing to see how much of his hand your body can take.

Once more, he pulls his fingers out. 

Four fingers. 

You’re being stretched to the limits. Your breath escapes you as quivering moans. 

He gets all four in. Up to the knuckles. 

You almost sigh in relief, assuming that he’s reached in as deep as he can manage. 

Then he pauses. He doesn’t withdraw his hand. 

You watch as he tilts his head to the side, seemingly in thought. You don’t realize what he’s thinking. You don’t realize what he’s taken notice of. What he’s suddenly become curious about. 

His hand rotates ever so slightly. 

You feel his fingers begin to curl inside of you. His claws briefly scrape against your inner walls, coaxing a pathetic mewl from you. 

He’s made room for more of his hand. 

Your next escapes you an erotic moan as he pushes in deeper.

Slowly. Carefully. Your insides happily stretch to accommodate his pleasant intrusion. 

Deeper. 

Deeper. 

Until the only thing preventing him from sliding his entire hand into your trembling orifice is his outstretched thumb. 

A thumb which then has easy access to your clitoris. 

You throw your hand against your mouth to keep your voice at a reasonable level as he begins to curiously rub your clit with his thumb. 

Firmly. 

Persistently. 

He applies careful pleasure and rolls the pad of his thumb against you in a clockwise motion. 

You break. 

After having been teased for so long, the sudden attention to your clitoris pushed you to the breaking point. 

He’s able to feel as your inner walls tighten briefly around his hand. He stops rubbing you. All movement on his end halts as he feels you ride out your orgasm.

You’re left panting, head in a fog. 

He’s not done just yet. 

His hand slides out of you, but he isn’t satisfied with his exploration. 

You watch as he studies his now glistening fingers. Slick and warm from having intruded upon your body. 

Then you somehow flush further as he allows himself a moment to study your now gaping orifice. He seems absolutely transfixed by the sight of your inner walls twitching. He stares. He stares intensely. Hungrily, even.

Suddenly, his eyes lock with yours for a moment. 

You can see it in his expression. He’s still curious. He still wants to explore the limitations of your flesh. 

Likewise, he can see that you’re still fascinated with his hands. That you aren’t yet satisfied with how he’s touched you. 

There’s still so many possibilities. So many ways to indulge and explore. 

Neither of you are ready to stop yet.

You give him silent permission. He’s happy to continue. 

Continue you will. 

Until you’re both satisfied with the things you’ve discovered about each other.

[giolovesyousm]

“you left me no choice but to stay here forever„

[vanmec]

This is the moment of just letting go...

[My Socials] | [Prints] 

I know the light grows darker down below

But in your eyes it's gone before you know

[greenthena]

Ah, was I listening to Bowie today?

I, I wish you could swim Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim

Though nothing, nothing will keep us together

We can beat them, for ever and ever

Oh we can be Heroes, just for one day

I, I will be king And you, you will be queen

Though nothing will drive them away

We can be Heroes, just for one day

We can be us, just for one day

Heroes, David Bowie's Changes

[skrifores]

I have seen the point being made that you don’t have to be in a romantic relationship for some behaviour to constitute domestic violence. I’m seeing this said with regards to Our Flag Means Death and what some people perceive as domestic abuse on Ed’s part - that him not being romantically involved with Izzy shouldn’t mean behaviour between can’t be considered domestic abuse.

It is an excellent point that in many places, the definition of domestic abuse isn’t restricted to intimate partners! It is often widened to consider any violence, coercion and emotional harm taking place within a home environment. Under this definition, children can be victims of domestic abuse by their parents, it can occur between siblings, even roommates - especially with a live-in landlord situation. And of course, the Revenge as well as being a workplace is ultimately where the characters live.

I think it’s very clear that the show is a workplace comedy about pirates, but if you want to apply the definition of violence, coercion and emotional harm within a home environment to your reading to the show, that can be done.

Of course, I would be surprised if you genuinely view it that way and still made it as far as even watching Season 2, given the way what you consider to be domestic abuse in this fictional setting happens so very often with little to no moral consequence, and is often intended to be taken as a joke.

I mean. In the very first episode, the crew talk about killing Stede, and begin to plan for this, including lighting him on fire.

Jim threatens Lucius and actually physically locks him in a small wooden box in the second episode for what seems to be quite a long time.

I think in 4, Izzy pulls on Fang’s beard and it really upsets him. He also talks pretty openly about the intention to kill the Revenge crew, though I’ll let that go at this stage since he doesn’t really live there so much as being there for the purpose of murdering them and stealing their stuff. Still, poor Fang, that looked like it hurt.

While we’re on Izzy, he does also actively try to kill Stede by stabbing him, and he then he goes and does the olde worlde equivalent of calling the cops on him on the intention of having him executed, which seems pretty fucked up on the ‘violence’ part of our DA definition but also hits pretty hard on coercive control since he’s doing this to get Ed to behave differently.

He does prevent the Navy from executing Ed, which is nice, but he does point out that he regrets this, which, ouch, emotional harm. If we’re doing real world definitions, “I should’ve let the cops I called on you murder you” is the sort of thing that would make me feel pretty fucked up. And we all know what it means when someone tells you to watch your step.

But it’s not all about Izzy! (It’s really not, guys, there’s a whole TV show here!) Buttons bites Lucius - who ends up needing the whole finger gone! And he’s a visual artist!

Even my darling man Roach tries to eat the Swede, and I’ve gotta say, I don’t think they were on that island long enough to justify murder.

And who could forget Mary?? Wonderfully written character, love her, but, she does with malice aforethought attempt to kill her spouse in his sleep with a skewer. She was right to do it, in my opinion, but y’know, even without broadening the definition beyond partner relationships, murder of your spouse is pretty classic domestic abuse.

So, y’know, the point I’m getting at really is that if your definition of domestic abuse is violence and control wherein the perpetrator and victim share a significant aspect of their lives like living space - that’s a fine definition in real life. It is the one I use, in real life. But if you apply it to Our Flag Means Death, I really don’t understand how you stomached watching the first season or why you came back for more.

And if you only apply this definition with regards to Ed’s behaviour, but not the rest of the characters, I do wonder why that might be.

[iamthat-iam]

Let's address the elephant in the room shall we~~~

Invasion of privacy! HUGE issue that has been normalized on this app and I know for a fact wouldn't fly on other apps like IG, FB, Twitter or Tik Tok

Your "seeming journey" is supposed to be about YOU! It's like people hold bloggers to such a high standard like we're not allowed to react to disrespect, we're not allowed to defend ourselves, we're not allowed to have any type of privacy!

Even when I was still into LOA, I didn't judge content creators for having a "human" moment or reacting emotionally to situations. I didn't go out of my way to STALK their social media to figure out if they were fake or "catfishing" or not. I didn't do any of that, I was just focused on the TEACHINGS. Same thing when I joined the ND community. I was focused on the POINTERS.

Some of y'all should hit up Nev from Catfish and apply for a job with all the detective work y'all be doing 😭

Are you kidding me? I just find it funny that no one actually tries to debunk what bloggers ARE ACTUALLY TEACHING, but they try and find some character flaw (lying about their identity or their experiences) so they can ""cancel"" them.

Reminds me of when I joined the ND community, NOT EVEN A MONTH IN people ran to find my old YouTube channel where I talked about the void state, and were mad because I didn't want to talk about it on my blog 💀 a mess fr. Let us live!!

How hard is it to mind your own business? Seriously. We all get so many asks from people who desperately want to improve situations they're in, they desperately want to feel the oneness and omnipotence that we feel. If they would invest the amount of energy they put into trying to prove bloggers are fake into HELPING THEMSELVES, and LOOKING AT WHAT WE'RE POINTING TO, we would not be in this predicament now.

[schibi12]

A whole generation of children unwillingly learned the concept of mpreg and its thanks to the fairly oddparents

[purplebass]

Sometimes I think about how many times Tessa woke up at night in search of Will and Jem, after Will died. How lonely she must've felt, knowing that she couldn't see either of them. How she missed their voice or simply, their presence. The color of their eyes, the streak of gray in their black hair. How, sometimes, she even asked herself if they had really meet, if everything they had been through had really happened. How it hurt remembering when she had had nightmares before, and Will was there to circle his arms around her to tell her everything was fine, and she felt better. Or the words of comfort Jem reserved only for her, whenever they met at Black Friars bridge.

[laurelwen]

Kink Posts 1/2 Kink Posts 2/2

[the-insouciant-scientist]

Siblings bicker, it's what they do. It's not a bad thing in and of itself. But what happens when an argument becomes the last interaction you ever had?

(Translations:

<I regret it / the blame is on me>

<I regret it / the blame is on me>

<Please accept my most sincere apologies>

<Come home>

<Please>

<...Come home>)

[perotovar]

CARRY ON WITH THAT THOUGHT 👀 PLEASE AND THANK YOU 🙏

LISTEN

i just think javi g would make the prettiest sub with blushing cheeks and glazed over eyes and make the prettiest sounds because he wants to be so good for you and make a good impression because “mi amor, it’s been hours, please may i come? i’ve been good” and he’s tugging on the soft leather keeping his hands off himself and he’s so needy and his cock is throbbing and flushed such a pretty deep red color and “it’s starting to hurt, please” but really he likes the pain a little because he feels alive while he’s being pushed like this and he loves you so much and there are tears making pretty little tracks down his eyes because “i’m so close” without having been touched in so long and he’s sweating and his golden skin is glowing with the perspiration and his gorgeous curls are sticking to his forehead and neck and his hips are bucking and then finally you say “you do look beautiful when you come apart for me, javi. come for me” and he nearly sobs as his cock twitches and he spends all over himself, making a mess but he looks beautiful and he’s smiling as he breathes heavily and makes those pretty sounds again

😌💕