#viewer discretion is advised!

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Jettison

[This story contains graphic violence, death, and heavy emotions.]

It's been another long day. The Night Witch's manor is so sprawling and cavernous, a reflection of her growing arcane might. Even with the army of dolls she's amassed, it can be a struggle to attend to everything that ought to be done. And this one is just a single doll.

It puts the mop back in its place after draining the liquid and wiping the bucket clean. It looks across the hardwood of the lower floor of Miss's basement library. It can hear the shelves crackling and popping as the ever so slowly stretch outward, magically making room for Miss's growing collection.

This one really hopes it didn't miss a spot this time. It wants to be a good doll.

It walks a memorized route through the sprawling hallways, fighting off fatigue to keep its footsteps from being too loud. It watches around for other dolls, sure not to get in anyone's way after its last warning. Especially not Miss.

It finally reaches the dormitory, where Stella waits for it. That one is politely stood outside this one's door, its eyes lighting up as soon as it notices the approach.

It can't wait, running up to this one and wrapping its arms tightly around it. "This one missed you! Sorry that one got put on library duty again, it doesn't know why that keeps happening."

This one's mood instantly improves as it hugs the other doll back, helpless to stop the smile spreading across its face. "It was the worst, but it's finally over. Thanks for always being here."

Stella hops away from the hug, arms still around this one's shoulders. "Of course! That one is the best thing about this hell hole."

This one can't help but flinch away. It agrees, it knows it does, but there's still a visceral feeling of wrongness to acting out against Miss. It's what bad dolls do. But... Stella can't be bad. It's perfect.

The dolls sit on the floor, leaning against the wall. They talk about all they can. Idle gossip about the actions of the other dolls, more exotic tea flavours they'd like to try together someday, and...

"This one wants to go somewhere sunny." Stella looks off towards the opposite wall. This one can tell it's imagining the tropical vista, the smell of the sea and the caress of the breeze. "It knows the sand would be a bit of a pain to clean out of its joints, but... maybe it'll find a Miss that can clean them out." With a reserved sigh, that one's smile got just a little more sombre.

This one leaned just a bit to the side, letting its shoulder touch against Stella's. "Honestly, this one doesn't care where it ends up. Even if it dies, it just wants a break." Its voice was casual, with just enough seriousness to be meaningful.

Stella turns to face this one, clearly concerned. "Luna, please don't say that. This one don't know what it'd do without that one."

Stella's sadness burns, like staring into the sun. It shares the very same sentiment. "Sorry, that one's right. It promises to stay alive."

"That one better." Stella slips a hand down to the ground, placing it just on top of the one this one was using to support itself. It feels warm. "This one promises, someday, it'll get better. Just hold on for a little bit longer, and-"

"Freeze"

They freeze.

The Night Witch makes herself known. Her steps are almost weightless, concealing herself at almost all time, unless she seeks to intimidate bad dolls. Every step up the stairs to the doll's chambers is more thunderous than the last.

She crouches down in front of the pair, still paused in idle chatter. "I've told you things time, and time, and time again. It's night time. You're meant to sleep. I can't stand your voices polluting my domain."

Miss sighs, trying to wipe the frustration from her eyes. "I've had it. It's clear that you're too simple to learn."

Miss touches a single finger to Stella's chest, and it begins to rot. The rust crawls along the surface in a way totally alien to porcelain, as if it's eating through something much more organic.

The last of its breastplate falls away, leaving an advanced and interweaving nest of magical clockwork completely exposed. With a slow and deliberate hand, Miss reaches out and wraps her grasp around Stella's core.

She begins to squeeze.

Stella twitches, failing to obey as the brass starts to slowly bend. This one's gaze is locked forward. It wants to turn, to hold Stella, to help it. But it can only stare into The Night Witch's cold, cruel eyes. All it can do is feel that one's hand, desperately tightening, trying to find support, and outlet, any kind of help.

It winces, unable to keep itself steady, folding around the grip as its existence starts to falter. It feels the light animating it start to fade and sputter, its vision fading. It's breathing, a desperate remnant of its humanity.

There's a sickening crunch as the metal shreds. This one feels a pulse through the air as the magic contained inside dissipates uselessly. Stella's body clatters to the side as Miss removes her hand, loudly smashing against the floor.

She turns to this one. "You're all more trouble than you're worth. You know that, right? Respond."

"Yes Miss." Instant, reflexive, obedient.

All she can do is scoff dismissively. "Clean up the mess. Make sure to tell the others what happened tonight. And if you don't report to me the second you see someone pulling this shit again, you die with them. Respond."

"Yes Miss."

The witch stood up, turning and leaving without another word.

This one's body collapsed. It clutched its chest, trying to soothe the ache it felt in its soul, a heaviness anchoring it to its emotions stronger than anything it ever felt as a person.

It heaves its weak body over Stella's porcelain shell. It supports itself with its elbows, hair dropping into its face, as it stares into the broken toy. Gears still tumble out of place uselessly, falling into a loose pile at the bottom of that one's naked torso. Its core is tangled into scrap, the imprint of Miss's hand clear in the wreckage.

Its face is emotionless. Its eyes are empty, mouth agape. Finally, it can be still. This one grabs its hand again, finally holding it back, interlocking their fingers. It tightens its grip as loosely as it can, terrified of hurting that one further.

This one wants to cry. Please, something, anything to prove that it's mourning. It needs to feel the release, the catharsis of having its tears stain the slacking face of the only thing to ever show it affection. It wants to scream, telling it how much it mattered, how much it made this miserable existence bearable, how every day it survived so it could feel that one's love. Please. Anything.

It finally shakes itself, wrapping its arms around the body. It lifts with its legs, slinging the upper part of that one over its shoulder so it's easier to carry. It struggles for a second to open the manor's front door, encumbered. It stumbles out, setting the body as gently as it can with the other trash meant for disposal.

Good doll.

[pearlyboi-ofthenight]

Title: The New Book's Counterattack

Maturity Rating: 16+

Summary: Character who is an aspiring shonen mangaka accidentally creates perfect yaoi/bl (all of these panels are supposed to be fight scenes)

[simp4konig]

Hello, someone forcing Nikto to show his face to his lover... Thoughts?

WARNING! HEAVY, HEAVY ANGST! VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

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"Look at them."

His knees buckled under him, Nikto was kneeling, body subdued and completely overcome with fatigue.

Pain no longer registered in his body, and it more closely resembled a dull ache — like the ache after ripping a tooth with no anesthetic, the gums numb.

Gunshot wounds had torn his flesh, and he was slowly losing consciousness, but he was gritting his teeth with enough pressure to unhinge his own jaw to stay awake. Stay awake. Stay awake stay away stay awake.

A sharp yank of his collar forced Nikto's eyes to find meet Zakhaev's, but Nikto was committing your face to memory — your face, not the one of a corpse, or the ones from the photo albums which were burned before his very eyes.

His eyes were drooping, however, and any second now, he thought he would collapse, his body lulling of its own accord as if he was drunk.

But he was not. He was in so much pain that it made him delirious.

"This is your partner?"

Although the statement was directed at Nikto, Viktor's eyes bore into your own. As he smirked cruelly, the scar on the side of his face sneered at you with equal cruelty, the result of his notoriety and violence.

"Talk, dog. Tell me. Don't make me ask a second time."

Nikto was captured by Zakhaev, and was tortured. Nikto was willing to endure unimaginable pain, to be mutilated, to be ruined beyond salvation, so long as you were safe.

And you were. He was certain. He had taken several precautions, searched various locations for the ideal safe place. To keep you safe.

Somehow, your hideout was found. After all the precautions Nikto had taken, after all of the effort, the dedication, the certainty... in vain.

As if the physical, injuries which were irreversible, the beatings, the brainwashing, the everything wasn't enough, clearly Nikto wasn't sufficiently scarred for Zakhaev to be satisfied. Zakhaev wanted him broken. Destroyed emotionally, so that fight, that passion, and that strength would dissipate, and ultimately disappear. Since Nikto was too much of a threat to the organisation, and Zakhaev's plans.

Nikto's eyes were empty, sockets hollow, void of any emotion. Just a void.

Stubbornly, Nikto remained silent, refusing to humour Viktor with a response.

Instead, his heart ached, his gut clenched, his fists shook, and his eyes stung.

All he could do was look into your eyes. Hoping, praying to God, anyone, anyone at all, that you would be spared. That, for disobedience, one of the bullets in Zakhaev's pistol would go straight through his skull, not yours.

That at least you wouldn't have to face death first.

As if bored, Viktor turned his pistol this way and that, observing it with feigned interest...

...

...To Nikto's horror, instead of aiming the barrel of his gun at him, Viktor was walking towards you.

Zakhaev denied Nikto the sight of your face for your last seconds, deliberately shielding his line of sight. Not out of mercy, but out of spite, and to further rub salt into his wounds — which he would later do with sick, sadistic pleasure.

Every single cell in his body yelled, screamed, shrieked at Nikto to move, to lunge at Zakhaev, to throw himself, to do anything.

But he couldn't move. Not a muscle. Fatigue, pain, and numbness had invaded his bloodstream and paralysed his nervous system, rendering him incapacitated.

No bother.

You were smiling.

Tears streaming down your cheeks like rivers, sobs echoing as you sobbed and sobbed until your throat became hoarse and voice was broken, you were smiling.

You saw Nikto's new face for the first time.

Nikto's face mutilated, scarred, and ruined face of the man who you cherished, whose stubbled cheeks you'd often nuzzle your nose into, whose lips you'd kiss.

God. What had they done to him? You could recognise those blue-gray eyes any day, but they no longer resembled ice which would melt at the sight of you; instead, they were empty. Soulless.

Yet, as ruined and mutilated as it was, it was still the face of your Nikto.

Nonetheless, you saw Nikto's new face for the first time.

And last.

As, Nikto's face, was the last thing that you ever would see. Half obscured by Zakhaev's body, yes, and your vision blurred by tears, you still saw it. That was enough.

Before Zakhaev unceremoniously pulled the trigger, and your body became limp. Cold. Your mind at rest, but your eyes becoming blind, denied the sight of your lover forever.

Not at peace, though. You could only rest, since you wouldn't, couldn't find peace. Not after being burdened with the knowledge of what's been done to him, and what's going to be done to him.

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A/Ns

second wip finished!!!!!

from a very fluffy fic to something gutwrenching... you're NOT welcome. you ARE however welcome to publicly execute me if u so wish ❤️ (u deserve at least THAT after reading this 💔)

no tag list bc i thought that this was very heavy and i did not want to tag my moots+followers in this lest this trigger them:(

anyways, ty anon for the ask !!! probably (definitely) NOT what you had in mind... but those were my thoughts 🥲

[not-an-ai]

We know that Dream was fed raw potatoes in the prison, and nothing else. And in many fanfics, Dream doesn't eat them and they rot, I feel what most people are forgetting is that potatoes are the best vegetable possible. And what do potatoes also do? Grow in weird conditions, like sprouting in your kitchen when you haven't used them in awhile. They grow anywhere. I.e; this meme, thus, I think it is very important to talk about the cell Dream is covered and quite possibly taken over by potatoes. Because eventually the chest and the book thingy would decompress as they are made of wood, and potatoes could grow in/on them, and if you are doing an au where Dream dies in the prison and no one removes his body for whatever reason. When someone finally finds it, potatoes are growing out of it. Or if it is an immortal Dream au, there are potatoes growing in/out of Dream.

[immapsychoclown]

happy birthday coomer

[marleyybluu]

So Fine

Rio Martinez x black!fem!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Content warning: 18+, little bit of porn, little bit of plot, quickies in the bathroom, oral (m receiving), hitting it from the back, reader is described as curvaceous (but like once), no use of y/n, someone's not wearing panties, use of the word cock oops again, established relationship, sort of a shit ending cus I'm fried, creampies (obviously)

A/N: not necessarily inspired by the song I guess, I was listening to it when i wrote it so. and again no deep descriptions but reader has braids so shes a black woman in mind

(Sorry if the gif quality is shit lol)

His eyes were on her all night and he knew the minute this engagement party was over he'd be able to have his way with her. They didn't really want to make a big deal about their engagement but both their moms insisted they have a little party, and collect some gifts, they bared through it for the love of their sweet mothers. She wore an olive green dress that seemed to be glued to her, the outline of her curvaceous shape had him drooling, with a bit of champagne in his system he was ready to go home. But you can't leave your own party early, can you? 

He had gotten caught in a conversation with her father and as much as he loved the man he told some long ass stories, always deriving to a different one and explaining how it's connected to the current one. All he could do was hum and nod and throw in an occasional word or two, but his eyes seemed to never leave her as she participated in her own conversation with her cousins. Her laughter tickled his ears and he was surprised he could hear it over the music and talking. One of them nudges her and tries their best to point him out discreetly but he catches it, she turns her head and smiles at him and he smiles back. She excuses herself from the girls and makes her way over to them, she places a hand on her dad's shoulder and his attention is now on his little girl. 

"Are you talking his ear off again?" She asks kissing his cheek. Her dad shakes his head. "No, just... tellin' him some stories." 

She sighs and tilts her head. "I'm supposed to marry this man, do not tell him anything else embarrassing please." 

Her dad laughs and shrugs. "I mean you already got him, he's not going anywhere." 

"He's right, I'm not." Rio finally chimes in, she leaves her dad's side and slips her fingers in with Rio's. "Can we put a pause on the story? I just need his help for a second." She lies and he relaxes with relief that she'd come to save the day, happy to finally get a moment with her too. "Of course, take him." 

They say goodbye and she tugs him inside and towards a hallway where there are fewer people. "Thank you, I love your dad but-"

"I know, trust me," She giggles. He squeezes her hand affectionately and lifts their arms up, she doesn't hesitate to give him a twirl and he groans. "You're so fucking fine. I love this dress." 

"Thank you." She says looking down at her own body, she did look good tonight. She takes a last sip from her own glass of champagne and holds the now empty glass at her side, she eyes him up and down before boldly stating, "I have no panties on." 

His eyes widened a bit, she got him. She looks around to make sure no one notices that both of them vanish into the guest bathroom nearby. She pulls him inside and locks the door, she puts her empty glass on top of the counter and turns to face him with her palms pressed against the cold countertop as she leans back. Her tongue swipes across her bottom lip and her eyes shift down to the tent forming in his pants, she smiles and looks back up at his dilated eyes. She slides down into a squatting position, her high heels helping her put less pressure on her knees, her hands run over his brown belt and she eagerly undoes the buckle.

She pulls them down along with his boxers and his half-hard cock heavily pops out, she smiles gently taking him in her soft grip, her tongue slides from the base to the tip, she takes him in her mouth and his hands immediately fall on top of her head. She moans feeling him grow inside her mouth with every suck and lick. His rosy pink lips part and small huffs of breath escape, his eyes close for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her wet and warm mouth around him. His hips buck forward, his tip hitting the back of her throat, she pulls her head back-- a trail of drool connecting from his tip to her chin. 

She was such a pretty sight to see. She looks up at him holding eye contact while taking his dick in her mouth once again. Rio whines throwing his head back. She bobs her head at a slow pace, her hand comes up to cup his balls and he nearly loses his fucking mind, she carefully squeezes them, and fondles them to add to his pleasure. 

"Fuck, you're gonna kill me, baby." He moans. A familiar feeling washes over him, his eyes blink open, his hands grip her hair and he pulls her off of him. "I don't want to come in your mouth." He says between pants. "Why not?" She pouts. He wraps his hand around her arm pulling her up on her feet, he turns her around and she bends over for him. His hands greedily lift up her dress so that it now hangs around her hips. His eyes flash with desire when he realizes she really went commando. "You think you can tell me you're not wearing panties and expect me to not want to come inside you." 

She moans at his remark. His hands roved her body, squeezing her fleshy thighs, the feeling of her soft skin making him harder to the point where it was almost painful. He runs his fingers over her swollen pussy, her arousal dripping out of her, he licks his finger and practically melts at her taste. "Baby..." She whines pushing back on him, he smiles at the fact that she was just as needy and horny as him. His hands land on her hips, his foot nudging her legs further apart. He drives his hips forward, slowly pushing himself inside. Her eyes roll in pleasure. A throaty "Shit!" from him as he buried himself inside her. She was so fucking warm and her walls were plush and welcoming. She grips the counter as he bottoms out, neither of them was going to last long and they both knew it. 

Rio pulls out and pushes back in. "Oh!" She squeals as he fills her. He thrusts slowly at first, he liked to tease her, to see how long it'd take for her to crack and beg him to go faster. Her eyes roll and her lips part making the perfect 'O'. 

"Oh, shit." He moans lightly tugging her braids and forces her to hold her head up instead of resting on the counter. 

She cries out as he repeatedly hits her sweet spot, she reaches back and holds onto his forearm, her nails digging into the material of his clothes. "Fuck me, please, harder." She whines, he yanks her towards him, her back pressed against his chest, her head falling back on his shoulder her arm hooking around his neck, his nose nudged in the crook of her neck, her precious perfume tickling his senses. "Always smell so fucking good, you feel so fucking good." He says hotly in her ear. He feels her clench around his shaft. "You're squeezing me, baby." He moans the two of them go at it without a care in the world of anyone potentially hearing them, the sound of skin slapping probably seeping through the crack of the door while he pounds into her. The squelching sound of her wetness being penetrated by his dick, her arousal dripping onto him. 

He kisses the back of her neck. "Don't stop, Im gonna cum." She cries and her pussy weeps as she coats him her slick, her body stills and pleasure takes over her entire being just for a moment. He gives her a few more thrusts dragging out her orgasm as his approaches, he lets out a choked-out moan as he empties himself inside of her, and she hums at the feeling as it turns her on all over again. "Mmm, I'm ready to just go home and fuck you on the couch." He flirts leaving a trail of kisses over her shoulder. She sighs contently and smiles. "We can't." 

"I know, I know." 

She feels his length soften inside her and almost whimpers when he pulls back leaving her empty. He stuffs his dick back into his boxers while she tugs her dress down to cover herself up. As she cleaned herself up and fixed her appearance as best as she could he stood behind her admiring her through the reflection of the mirror. "What?" She asks. "I love you. I'm glad you said yes." 

She smiles warmly and looks down at her ring. "Me too, I can't wait to run you dry." She jokes and then looks him up and down. "In more ways than one." 

If you liked this fic free to like this fic, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one 🤙🏾 If you're interested in reading other fics based on songs just like this one you can find them here in 'The Mixtapes.' playlist.

tags: @darqchilddaydreamz @rio-reid-whoreee @skyesthebomb

that might be interested: @realhotgurlshit @lovedlover @librarian1002

[joydoesathing]

Do we get to see the full version of the nsfw post somewhere else?

Chelsea: Be warned as you go

*Chelsea hands you a link in the description*

[devil-in-hiding]

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hi everyone,

I found a somewhat disturbing study that was done by Kingson University about euthanizing autistic people in the Netherlands. I’ll the link to the article here if anyone wants to read the entire thing.

I’ll leave some excerpts below. View discretion is advised.

Several people with autism and intellectual disabilities have been legally euthanized in the Netherlands in recent years because they said they could not lead normal lives, researchers have found.

The cases included five people younger than 30 who cited autism as either the only reason or a major contributing factor for euthanasia, setting an uneasy precedent that some experts say stretches the limits of what the law originally intended.

In 2002, the Netherlands became the first country to allow doctors to kill patients at their request if they met strict requirements, including having an incurable illness causing “unbearable” physical or mental suffering.

Between 2012 and 2021, nearly 60,000 people were killed at their own request, according to the Dutch government’s euthanasia review committee. To show how the rules are being applied and interpreted, the committee has released documents related to more than 900 of those people, most of whom were older and had conditions including cancer, Parkinson’s and ALS.

[leftalpacavoid]

🎭 His Dear Witch ~ 🎭

It's unknown why do you even eixst. The SCP Foundation doesn't know what to do with you. You're a confusing paradox that they do not understand and most frustratingly—uncontainable in a conventional sense.

#TAGS: Nothing Time Twins related, SCP Fandom is slowly drawing me back, It includes SCP! Reader, The Herta! Reader, Honkai Star Rail x SCP Crossover, Potentially OOC, Reader x Canon, Witch Reader, Short Writing, The Herta! Reader x SCP Character, More stuff like this would be included if interested, SCP FANS ARISE. 🔥🔥🔥

— TW?: Possesive Themes, Be Warned, 035 Being 035 As Usual, Potential Yandere Themes, He Calls You His 'Wife'.

A/N: After hitting maxed pity on herta's banner along with her LC, I decided to make an interesting crossover because I thought it would be interesting to see how this goes for The Herta! Reader Insert. (Huge bonus that I'm blessed with good stats while I'm building her. 🙏)

You’re the definition of an enigma. A literal spacefaring, unknown anomaly wrapped up in an elegantly appearance, self-aware, and untouchable persona. The Foundation doesn’t know what to do with you, and SCP-035? He’s utterly entranced.

And Who Exactly Are You in the SCP Foundation?

You are Anomaly [REDACTED], a Level 6: CTS entity classified under Euclid. They don’t fully understand what you are—just that you exist, that you have an unsettling level of influence, and that you are playing the longest of long games.

You don’t act out. You don’t cause destruction. You don’t try to escape. Instead, you watch. You let them wonder why you haven’t done anything drastic, knowing full well that the moment you choose to tip the scales, everything changes.

They don’t imprison you because they can’t. They simply keep you in containment because you allow them to.

And then there’s SCP-035.

SCP-035 has never met someone like you before.

He’s charming, cunning, and manipulative—but none of it works on you. Not because you’re immune to him, but because you let him think he’s in control before flipping the script entirely.

You’re his perfect counterpart. The ultimate tease, the unattainable yet tangible anomaly that keeps him guessing.

At first, he tries to toy with you, flirt with you, unnerve you. And then, he realizes.

Oh.

You’re not like the others.

You understand him. You see through every little act, every trick, every calculated play. But instead of rejecting him or trying to outmaneuver him, you do something infinitely worse.

You indulge him.

You let him speak his flowery words, you humor his charm—but it’s clear who the real player is in this game. He’s used to being in control, but you? You make it so easy for him to fall under your spell instead.

And it drives him insane.

The Foundation is uneasy. Not because you’re violent, but because they cannot predict what you’re doing.

Why do you allow SCP-035 to get so close?

Why does SCP-035, a master manipulator, seem to worship you?

What is your endgame?

They want to separate you two, but the problem? 035 actually behaves when you’re around.

If anything, he’s less volatile, less inclined to escape, more… cooperative. But only because he knows that if he behaves, he gets you.

035: (mocking, but with an underlying threat) “Oh? You want to take my darling away? My wife?” (chuckles darkly) “Now, now, let’s not be hasty. You wouldn’t want to see me upset, would you?”

The researchers watching? Having war flashbacks.

The Real Question is...Why You Haven’t Given Him a Permanent Host (Yet)?

Because you’re playing the long game.

You could give him a permanent body. A perfect, indestructible vessel crafted specifically for him. A host that would never rot, never decay, never fail him.

And he knows you can.

That’s why he adores you. That’s why he’s obsessed.

But you? You wait.

You let him yearn. Let him crave it. Let him wonder if today is the day you’ll finally grant him that final gift.

035: (grinning, tilting his host’s head at you) “Tell me, dearest… when will you finally stop teasing me?”

You: (smirking, brushing a hand over his mask, whispering) “Would you love me the same if I gave you everything at once?”

035: … (soft chuckle) “Ah. I see. You do know me too well, don’t you?”

And the Foundation? Losing their minds. Because whatever the hell this is? It’s not normal.

They don’t know if it’s love, obsession, or something far worse.

But they do know one thing:

SCP-035 is yours.

[icarusredwings]

Bad Kitty secret part three!!!???

Tw: Drowning, unconscious medically needed touching, graphic descriptions of distress, pain, and medical conditions/ open wounds. Some scenes may be uncomfortable. Viewer discretion is advised.

For @shittyvampire and @whiskeyandcigarsmoke

Fixing him up took a bit longer than he thought it would, seeing as each type of wound had different needs to subside. Overall, it was a pretty easy process, Just tedious.

He put him in a hot bath, letting him soak as he did his best to pop what he could while he was unconscious, cleaning them with sterilizing gel after cutting small holes into the abscess’ in order for them to drain.

“Ew” He muttered, immediately shaking his head and biting his tongue. He shouldn't say those things. What if he had heard that? Logan knew it was one of his biggest no-nos. Besides, It's not like it was his fault. This just.. happened.. sometimes.

Maybe he panicked when he wasn't there and it caused his skin to get worse? He heard that sometimes when you get stressed out you could break out in hives. Maybe this was Wade's version of that.

As for the blisters and boils, he helped the best and quickest he could, sometimes holding him under the water if he started to smell a little too conscious. The longer he held him, the more limp he would be, easier for him to work with.

At times though, Logan would quickly recoil, jerking him back up out of the water, his instincts telling him to save him.

“Damn it- come on. Get it together.” He grumbles, biting himself as he pushes him back under. Feeling the weak struggles made him tear up, singular tears falling as he looked away. He wasn't cut out for this anymore.

The thought alone made him realize that.. holy shit.. he was now the worst at what he was made for. He couldn't even bare to stab him in the head anymore, so what use would he be as a weapon to them? To anyone?

He was the shittiest weapon there was. And this made him smile. He couldn't wait to tell him. To tell Wade that…

His smile subsides as he realizes his hopes were not as real as he wished them to be… He killed him. Twice by now. He couldn't be so excited to tell him how excited he was that he was no longer a person whose hands bring nothing but pain when said hand right this second was drowning him, watching the bubbles come out of the water with little reaction. A stare of pity and that was all.

The consciousness in his chest felt heavier than Wade's limp wet limbs. With sorrow weighing down the lids of his, Logan's deadpanned straight forward stare looked as bout as mindless as a fox with rabies, trying its damndest to find help. Walking forward with no distinction of where it was actually headed. The glossiness over his eyes showing just how much he dreaded having a soul.

Placing him down on a towel in their bed, Logan takes a deep breath. He washes his hands, pats the still oozing crevasses dry, wiping them clean before dousing him in rubbing alcohol. Just hearing the sizzling And seeing the bubbling makes him feel terrible. The thought of catching him on fire, letting his body regenerate came to mind. He wiped this memory away just as he did the excess lipids, beginning to look at the various creams they had, smearing Neosporin, Lotions, Cocoa butter balms, and petroleum jelly all over him, different stuff in various places.

Carefully, he begins to unravel the gauze that he found in the kit, looking at the cotton padding and plaster dressing. Logan didn't have much knowledge of how he was supposed to wrap each individual wound (especially with the short amount of time he had left) but he made sure to make them tight enough to where they wouldn't fall off if he moved or walked around.

Hell.. by the time he was finished with him, he looked like a full body burn patient. Which.. honestly wasn't too far off. He had even done all that he could for his half deteriorated cheek.. he knew that hurt. Especially since The skin there was completely gone, exposing rotting muscle and thin layers of fat in between cancerous polyps.

Part of Logan felt bad for scrunching and turning up his nose, overwhelmed by the sickly sweet stench of death, Vaseline, rubbing alcohol, hand sanitizer, and many more scents that made him feel as if he were playing doctor.

Oh That's it!! When he woke up that's what he'd say. He'd tell him that they were playing Dr. Kitty and hopefully- Just maybe, he'd understand. Now.. the real trouble would be trying to change his bandages tomorrow. One could only pray that he was more cooperative.

Logan had dressed him in a long sleeve loose hoodie and comfortable sweats. He (falsely) had it in his head that this would deter him from picking at his scabs.

Looking down at his work, he felt a sense of pride and relief wash over him, though it didn't last long. ‘Shit- did I let that blister on his leg drain all the way?’ He thought, letting out another disappointed sigh as he propped a pillow under his neck, one under his really bad leg too to reduce the swelling.

Alright. So he wasn't the BEST wolverine… But he'd settle for ‘okay'. If he was the Okay-est Wolverine… He'd be okay with that.

But for now? All he had to do was Wait. He should wake up any moment and he definitely didn't want him to be afraid.

A total of 8 minutes pass before he hears that small gasp of air that makes his shoulders soften and his heart rate regulates every time.

Wade blinks, trying to sit up but is being held tightly by a certain worrisome Wolverine. A bit tight too. He was surrounded by his stuffies, his arms felt… Warm.. but a nice kind of warm. Leaning his head back against him, He turns his head, trying to nuzzle him only to realize that his face was wrapped too, hat And hood pulled up.

“...Hi..”

Logan almost jumps, as if nervous. He could feel him swallowing, hearing the gears in his head turning, thinking of what to say.

“Hi kiddo I uhm… we were playing doctor a-and erm.. you had a lot of booboos.” He says, his voice overly gentle.

Raising a non-existent brow, Wade blinked, turning back to look at him. “Logan… Why do I look like a mummy? I mean I'm cool if you're into that but jeez warn a gal first, wontcha?” He mutters playfully.

It was as if a massive wave of relief fell over him, shoulders dropping in relaxation as he groaned. “Oh thank fuck.. No! Never I just.. you.. you must have freaked out and given yourself a break out or.. something? I don't know but..”

Wade could tell he didn't want to talk about whatever it was. He assumed he was just being fussy earlier. He didn't remember much but he felt his body itch. “Sorry… Sooo what are we watchin’ Wolvie?” He asked, Itching his arm only for Logan to gently take it, giving him a squeeze. A small “Don't” leaving his lips. “Some doctor girl show… I thought.. it would be easier to explain if..”

Leaning further into Wade's neck, he was acting as if something was wrong. “... do you feel okay? OR-other then the itching?” Itchy was good. It meant he was healing. Ripping open his scabs? Not so much.

“I feel better than before.. I had this weird nightmare though that you were trying to strangle me to death. Ha! But that's normal right?” He smiles, dreaming often of his loved ones killing him. Either that or unicorns and tacos while committing murder. That was always a fun dream. “Oh! or the one where I can fly.” He responds to his own thoughts. As per usual.

Logan now looked like a guilty dog who's gotten in the trash. “...That wasn't a dream, Wade..” He whispers, sitting up as he pulls himself away from him, as if he didn't deserve his cuddles. He Had a plan to take this secret to the grave but the guilt was eating him up inside, gnawing on his heart and crunching up his bones. It felt like it was snapping pencils in his stomach and then jabbing them through his lungs.

Looking at him with A neutral face, Wade's mind was working to click it all together, staring at him with such wide, curious eyes. At times they flickered, biting his tongue as he listened to what the Jury in his head had to say. Multiple assuming and yelling various conspiracies. Though he decided to go with one that they could all agree on.

“...I'm sorry for being so difficult..” he mumbles, looking at his lap and then away, remembering almost all of it now. “I don't mean to be..”

Logan goes to grab his hand again only for him to instinctively pull it away, close to his chest, Afraid he might possibly try to strangle him again. He knew why he did it. He would have done way worse, but still, emotionally he was spooked. Just a bit.

While he breathed and searched his body language for ill intentions, Logan's hand never left the spot it was in the air, offering him to take it when he was ready.

"Are.. are you mad at me?" He finally spoke after Wade took the hand, pulling him back into him. He wanted to be held, coddled, loved. And this is exactly what Logan gave him, Wrapping his arms around him and letting Wade snuggle into his cheek.

"...no..” He decided, listening to his feelings, slowly learning to embrace them instead of hiding them away. That's what caused this whole break out to begin with.

“I still feel a little... scared.. but I know why you had to do it.. and... It was pretty hot that you did all that just to help me.. even if I literally stabbed you.."

“I strangled you, tried to poison you, suffocated you, drugged you, drowned you, and you're apologizing for stabbing me once?”

“...and for throwing a lot of stuff at your head..” He gives his forehead a kiss, trying to rub his face, knowing how much he loved that, his fingers through the coarse hairs on his jaw.

“You have incredible aim for a kid..” He grumbles.

“You did what you had to do to help me. I'm so proud of you..” He starts; wanting to take care of his Wolvie for his hard work.

“stop…”

“No really. You shouldn't have had to do all those things but you did, just to keep me out of pain. I don't think anyone else would have the balls to suffocate a kid, Peanut.”

He groans, upset that he said this but it was true, shifting to hide in Wade's chest as now it was his turn to be taken care of, praised And told how much he appreciates and loves him.

After getting some snacks, Logan forcing him to take pain medication, Puppins hopping up on the bed, and Althea throwing a fit as to why the floor in the living room was so slippery, followed by Logan cleaning it up, Wade was happy.

Very happy actually, finally getting to eat the sub that Logan brought home, petting Puppins, and snuggling his big sensitive wolvie, who was clinging to him as if Lady Death herself would come take him away. But don't worry, Peanut. He was banned from ever being with her anyway. She never could see him longer than a couple of minutes.

“And that's a good thing for you isn't it, kitten?”

“What?”

“Oh- nevermind....… Hey Logan..?”

He could feel the man swallow as he glanced up to him. “.. yeah?”

“You're the best kitty I could have asked for…. And her name is Doc McStuffins you uncultured swine.”

The man scoffs, smiling ridiculously large, hiding his face in his collarbone. “I hate you.” He teases, Slapping Wade's hand for itching his bandages.

“Hey! Ow!”

“Stop scratching.”

“Oh, that's it. You're bad again.”

“Aw man..”

[chickenkurage]

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth (Short Comic of Artificial Intelligence AU) READ THE WARNINGS!

(IMPORTANT) PLEASE NOTE: IN THIS COMIC THERE IS A MASSIVE DEPICTION OF GORE, BLOOD, DEATH, MURDER, AND VIOLENCE.

VIEWERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

DO NOT READ THIS COMIC IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH.

IF SO, MAKE SURE TO TURN YOUR BRIGHTNESS UP TO THE MAX FOR BETTER VISIBILTY.

YOU ARE WARNED. . .

"And eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth"

"This is your fault Navy, you asked for this..."

"I wonder what happens if i overload your code?"

"Will you pop like a balloon?"

"Let's try shall we?"

"How boring, i didn't think "The Outernet" would censor his GRUESOME death"

█G█A1 is not your friend, BEWARE.

[pearlyboi-ofthenight]

Title: Fukutsu No Zono

Maturity Rating: 18+

[soundtechrapture]

Edgelords, Fetishes, and the Long Term Effects of Cringe Culture.

This is not at all the normal content I post here. This is a much larger vent / ramble than I normally do (it's practically an essay.)

This is a bit of a subjective outlook on this situation purely because I've only really had experience in the eproctophilia community, so I'll be using incidents from it, but I'm sure other fetish communities have gone through similar incidents. Cringe Culture may be pretty much dead, and the 2016 edgelord era is over, but the aftershocks and ramifications of it are still present. I don't know if people realize how fucking isolating it is to have a fetish like this. I never asked for any of this. Why are we such a target? Is it because we're into something that's seen as taboo? Is it because it's funny that people would be into something like this? There's an artist on Twitter I've been following for a while. By the time I went ahead and followed them, they had their account set to private. Earlier today, I checked my followed accounts on Twitter, so I could port them over to Bluesky, and found that I could finally see their content again. Empty, 0 posts, everything wiped without a trace. I know the actions of someone I barely know shouldn't affect me so much, but I can't stop thinking about it. Why? Were they exposed to a hate mob? Was it fear of that outcome? This isn't the first time this community has had a creator get attacked and ridiculed. Back in 2015ish, AnimatedJames got exposed for being into eproctophilia. Now, don't get me wrong, AnimatedJames wasn't exactly a saint. But people weren't attacking him for being a pedo or a rapist. They attacked him for something that was both harmless and out of his control. 2019 comes along, and a similar incident happened to JelloApocalypse but with little long-lasting effects, aside from the odd video here or there. But for something like that to happen now, in 2024, made me realize that cringe culture isn't dead, we've just developed coping mechanisms. Some examples of cringe culture still being around include Reddit, harbouring many cringe culture Subreddits and echo chambers. Cringe compilations appearing on YouTube. And the generally aggressive, hateful mobs that still roam through social media. I'm sure you've noticed how targeted these hate mobs have become, going from TV shows and media they didn't like, to subcultures and sexualities. I don't know what I hope to gain from writing all of this. A more pleasant future for everyone, perhaps? Or maybe I just want someone to listen for a second. A few months back, someone on this account had told me that expressing kink is a form of liberation, activism, self-expression, and normalization. And that by posting, I was making the world more beautiful, queer, and happy by expressing my interests. I guess what I'm hoping to accomplish here is to make the world a little more tolerant, a little nicer, a little bit more empathetic. Maybe some day I can link this account with my main without fear of ridicule. But that feels like wishful thinking right now. Maybe some day, though.

[wombywoo]

Sorry if you already answered this- but I am DYING to know more about Quinns prophetic visions. What does it mean that he puts himself in ‘near-death’ situations to have one? Could you give an example? Also do they last long/ put him in a trance or is it quick. If they last long I could imagine the first time it happened around Vincent him being totally freaked out and trying to make sure he was ok (maybe he was worried Quinn was having a stroke/seizure)

sorry it's taken me so long to respond I'm sick today 😩😭

I do have a very long answer and it's under the cut! (tw for mentions of self-harm, injury, drugs, domestic violence, non con) this is so heavy I'm sorry please read at your own discretion.

So--the first time Quinn's visions appeared was in the aftermath of the bus accident that nearly took his life. He'd been impaled in the shoulder with a metal pole, lost a lot of blood, and ended up coding when he got to the hospital. While in recovery, he experienced an intense seizure-like episode, which the hospital staff assumed was a side effect of his fever spiking dangerously high. But no--turns out his 'vision' and the delirious ramblings he tried to warn everyone about came true a week later (it was a major catastrophic event; I will touch on this later at some point..)

Hereafter, a series of injuries and illnesses in his preteen years enabled him to grasp the basics: if he gets personally close to death, a vision is granted (and it's usually a portent of something supernatural and horrible).

There were several....attempts to test the limits of this, as well as a dangerous theory: did he only experience the visions because the events he'd seen were meant to happen, or did the events happen because he saw them?

Interesting, interesting....

When Quinn experiences a vision, the effects can vary. Usually, he does exhibit something similar to a seizure--there's violent thrashing, sometimes screaming, or other times he drops to the floor, seemingly paralyzed. An outsider might assume he was dead if they didn't know better.

The length of an episode also varies: they can be as little as a couple of seconds to up to thirty minutes (at least that's the longest he's had so far)

Another thing to note is--his visions always take place from the point of view of someone else. Whatever event he's witnessing is shown to him from behind the eyes of a person present at the scene. As such, if the POV dies, Quinn reacts accordingly (thrashing, screaming, etc)

He also has other clairvoyant qualities, in that he appears to have an uncanny sense of luck in the field. What makes vampires so notorious to combat is their enhanced speed (when aiming, it's less a matter of where they're standing now as opposed to where they will be in a flash of a second) Quinn has a keen ability to prejudge where the target will be, and is almost always successful in taking an accurate shot.

After certain...events in his teen years--Quinn swore to put his prophecies behind him, and for a long time, he did his best to suppress them. It was only serving in the military and thus being thrown into danger regularly that forced him to confront the benefits of his 'gift' once more. A harrowing field injury left him a vision on the eve of a big mission: one that would fail from the things he saw. Quinn attempted to relay this 'newly discovered intel' to a higher-up, but it was ignored, and the subsequent failure played out just as he'd seen it.

Despite knowing very little about whether he'd ever be able to drastically change the future, if at all, Quinn took it upon himself to try to use the visions as a guide for future endeavors. With that came a sense of personal responsibility: if he had a chance to see a glimpse into a probable future, this could potentially save the lives of his squadmates. But he couldn't very well be exposing himself to danger regularly in order to induce a vision, could he. So he developed...other methods.

Drugs became his 'easiest' option, and that was still a huge gamble. A hit strong enough to run the risk of OD usually was enough to give him a vision. And acquiring them was simple enough--his ex bf Marc was a willing supplier. But using them in the field was not really a choice Quinn was comfortable with, especially when his CO found out and was ready to discharge him on the spot (they...worked something out)

His other options were more...creative, but usually required a partner. When his best mate Danny was first asked to drown him in the bathtub of the safe house they were holed up in, it was met with, ah...a lot of resistance. Quinn had attempted this on his own once, and yeah....that was nearly fatal. It took a lot of convincing, but eventually Quinn did persuade his friend to hold his head under the water long enough for him to stop thrashing, and then resuscitate him only to watch him writhe on the floor in apparent agony. Not at all recommended!!! good friends do not do this to their bros ❌ Danny was extremely traumatized and fucked up over the whole thing, and Quinn swore he'd never ask him to do it again (spoiler: he did)

The dangerous self-harm options just seemed to escalate though. It didn't help that Quinn's (psychotic) boyfriend was the biggest enabler of all. Marc was a violent lover, both physically and mentally. Yet Quinn didn't mind in the beginning; his mental state is not the greatest (can you tell??) so he often used Marc as an outlet to punish himself :'D There was an...incident with choking that went a little too far, and after witnessing Quinn's episode first-hand, Marc eventually figured out the basics as well. And as a result...well. Let's just say Marc appreciated hearing details of future events (for investments and whatnot) and was not at all inclined to entreat his boyfriend's safety above all else. This led to....various incidents of forced suffocation (most of which were not consensual) god this is really horrible, I'm sorry... They did break up, finally, but there's still a sense that Marc isn't done with him yet...

Eventually, Quinn does reach a healthier mindset with the help of his therapist and his commanding officer (and Fig!). At current, he hasn't had an episode since his last field assignment and injury, and hasn't induced one in over a year.

His developing relationship with Vincent comes with the eventual explanation of...all that, as well as a new catch-22--now that Quinn has someone he cares about more than anyone else, the 'personal responsibility' starts to stir up once more. Especially with a recently learned development--taking Vincent's venom-neutralizing pills is enough to induce a vision.

This can definitely complicate things....

And in the back of his mind, that notion still remains: is he the one causing these things to happen, by witnessing them in the first place??

Interesting, indeed....

So there you have it! It's not everything, and I'm still brainstorming a few of the details...but this is most of what I've thought up thus far~

Sorry I rambled when all you asked was a simple question :'D

[waywardsou2]

New Video just dropped!

It's part 2 of "To Give A Pound of Flesh" By Feathered Fox (link in the description)

This took me way to fucking long to edit but here we are