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partycatty · 5 months

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are you open to doing hcs or a fic with johnny (mk11 or mk1 variant idc lmao) and reader with dacryphilia? i just know the sex is so good he can make a mf cry. 😭😭

stares at this anon with incredibly wide eyes

mk11 & mk1 johnny cage > dacryphilia

warnings: nsfw, overstim, johnny being a dickhead, author struggles to write dominant johnny bc they know deep down he's a pathetic little bitch boy

notes: oh my god i am . i am so excited. i love this so much i've been holding onto this for .... days . ilysm i'm writing for ALL THREE. lh ymg OGLDJRKSKWJD

masterlist <3

♡

dilf >

• by FAR the most dominant of the three. he's been around. he knows how to please a woman and he'll make that abundantly obvious when you're reaching your fifth orgasm of the night and he's still pumping into you.

• while he's the most dominant, he's a soft dom! he absolutely worships his love like a goddess and will put her pleasure before his. but he's gonna have his fun while he does!

• johnny loves to please you with every inch of his body. facesitting, fingerfucking, thigh riding, cockwarming, humping his boot, eating you out, he will get you all fucked out one way or another. there's a lot of ground to cover on his huge body, and he devotes every square inch to your pleasure.

• he'll mix his praises in with degrading when he's really into it. he blabbers on and on and he gets closer, the degrading taking over when he's about to cum.

• johnny, on really good days, won't be done fucking you until your mascara drips down your cheeks. he's mastered the art of lasting during sex, so he will be hard for quite some time. and even if he goes soft, he'll just stop and eat you out until the erection returns.

• "such a pretty girl... my needy whore... oh fuck, baby, you're killin' me here..." he loves to just say things into your skin. he'll bite your shoulder or bury his face in your folds and still have something to say. a ball gag wouldn't even stop this man from yappin'.

• "just one more, love, i know you can do it for me," he groans into your ear as he plows his fingers into you again. by now, they're nearly pruned from how much he's been fingerfucking you. his other hand is wrapped around your waist while you sit on his lap. when you reach the next orgasm, he gently caresses your thighs. "there we go, good girl. that wasn't so bad, now was it?"

• when you reach the point of mentally breaking, tears prick at your eyes and fall down your cheeks and you pathetically squirm in his grasp. you don't even know how many times you've came, but this man has somehow found a way to make it happen so many times all you can do is sob.

• in his younger days, that wouldn't even be close to implying a finish line for his torture. but now, with age, he knows better. he sees you cry and stops being as rough. he knows it'd just stop feeling good and start hurting or go entirely numb. johnny would still squeeze in one more orgasm though, just for good measure. just to prove that he can.

• aftercare KING. you just lay there like a little soggy sock and this handsome devil will wipe you clean and pepper kisses across your body, telling you how well you did for him.

• "sorry to make you cry, sugar, i just couldn't help it. you looked too damn pretty," he'll mumble into your neck. "every time you cum for me, i just wanna watch it again and again..."

• your coworkers keep asking if you're okay the following morning from how puffy your eyes are and how sore you claim to be from... training.

♡

younger >

let me just say first that it is so unbelievably funny that he is looking at himself on imdb in that gif

• he's so mean. SO MEAN!

• degrader to the max. bro is the definition of a cruel and unusual punishment.

• and yeah the jacket stays on during sex.

• "you like being a filthy whore for a movie star? you gonna take it like a good slut? yeah you are," he'll yap and yap while he downright uses your body. he doesn't rub your clit to make you feel good, he rubs it so you spasm around his dick more. he wants to feel how much you crave his cock, his touch. it's all about him, baby!

• more than anything, he just loves to fuck you in every position imaginable. he wants to be buried in whoever fell victim to his charms, dammit!

• mirrors. send tweet.

• no fr, this guy loves having mirrors in every place he could picture himself having sex in. he'll pull your hair and force you to look at your reflection.

• "no, no, no, baby, don't look at you. look at me. look who's fucking you nice 'n good," he wraps his hand on the front of your neck to make you watch him rail you.

• at this point, his dick is painted with your orgasmic fluids and he's still not done. you're so fucked out you can't even think straight. your body has gone entirely limb and you're just in a hazy bliss. you've finished so many times your entire body is trembling and jerking around, and your cute moans and whines have just turned into gasps but the skin on skin slapping is incessant.

• "you gonna cry?" he asks menacingly, holding your face with one hand. "yeah you are. good fuckin' dick, isn't it?"

• you lazily nod as the gasps turn into sobs. you're just so full of pleasure and pain that you don't know what emotion to feel anymore.

• "pathetic girl, can't handle this much boom?" he chuckles breathlessly, approaching his own high. "just stay like that, baby, i'm close. tell me how bad you need me."

• that doesn't even sound possible in your current state. he may be talking, but all you hear is distant sounds as tears streak down your face.

♡

new era >

• this johnny is like a mix of the former two, but with his own little quirks! i believe this man is a switch through and through with a heavy preference for submission. but, yknow, that being said, sometimes a man just needs to fuck his girl's brains out and watch the tears flow!

• he's a man that's desperate for reassurance and this carries through during sex. he's not insecure, he just loves inflating his own ego.

• "you like that? you like how i fuck you?" he asks with deep whines in between. "tell me how much you love this, baby, please — aah —"

• he'll wipe your tears but secretly pray they keep flowing. it gets him off so good to see how much he affects you.

• also, ngl, i feel like he loves to be overstimulated too. a long ass day of shooting, he comes home and literally wants to get edged and overwhelmed for hours just to release all that pent up energy. he's a crier too <3

• 🚨 🚨 IPAD BABY 🚨 🚨

• he looooves to record you guys have sex, and if he even hears the slightest sniffle from you, the phone shoots to his hand like telekinesis. he's gotta capture every time he fucks you crazy, it's his favorite little memento to hold onto.

• "you look so pretty when you cry," he purrs out, stroking your hair as you choke on his dick. "could never get tired of this sight." he'll play with your hair but also use your throat as his own personal fleshlight. angle or debil.

• if anything, he loves to ruin pretty things. he'll feel accomplished when your lipstick is a mere memory, your clothes are missing buttons and your mascara is now painted down your cheeks. his favorite part of sex is cleaning you up, and his second favorite is ruining you to begin with.

• johnny would honestly love to keep going after you start crying, but he literally can't. he cums the second you're overstimulated because the sight alone gets him there so damn fast. as soon as the waterworks pool in your eyes, he's already getting sloppy with his thrusts and his groans turn into whines.

• he'll kiss your eyelids after sex, the heat of his body providing comfort after the rounds upon rounds of ruthless orgasms. he'd probably also lick your cheek to rid of the tears because it's funny.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage mk11 #mk11 #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat smut

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ginnsbaker · 9 months

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A Form of Vengeance (Excerpt)

Summary: “Hold it,” you challenge, locking eyes with her, pushing her to her very limits. “Hold it or you’ll never see me again.”

Word count: 2.4k+ | Tags: Heavy Angst, Dubious Consent, Edging, Toxic Relationships, Oral and fingering (Wanda receiving)

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

A/N: This is basically an excerpt from Chapter 6 of In Losing Grip on Sinking Ships, just so you have an idea how extensive the edits are that's currently in progress for the final PDF version of ILGOSS.

It’s half past midnight when Wanda’s awoken by a loud, angry knock at her door.

Her sleep riddled brain fails to notice how unusual it is for Sparky not to emerge from his dog house and start barking at the unexpected visitor. Her gut tells her it’s you, but just to be safe, she takes Sparky to the guest room, knowing how wary he is of strangers.

“Who’s there?” Wanda’s voice echoes through the empty hall, voice hoarse from sleep and from yelling your name all over the neighborhood.

There’s no response, and yet, each thud against the door reverberates through the room, filling it with a sense of urgency and unease.

Startled and growing increasingly concerned, Wanda opens the door and–

It’s the stench of alcohol that welcomes her first.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, you were both entangled in a similar situation, albeit in reversed roles. The irony of the circumstances isn't lost on Wanda as she observes the unwavering and intense gaze you fix upon her. It's unclear to her how much you've had to drink to be able to find your way to her, but the determination in your eyes speaks volumes.

“Y/N, thank god you’re here. I was so worried–” Wanda tries to say, but the rest of her sentence dies on your lips. With one hand on the slope where her neck meets her shoulder, you push her roughly back inside her apartment, slamming and locking the door behind you with the other.

You harshly nip at her lower lip before releasing it and growling, “This is what you want right? This is what you’ve been chasing me for all along?”

Pinning her with a disdainful look, Wanda feels powerless to refute your allegations. Is that how you perceived this to be all along? How lowly your opinion of her has become?

When she finds the courage to put the tiniest bit of space between you and her, you pull her flushed against your body to capture her swollen lips into another bruising kiss. The moan that escapes you both this time is irrefutable. Something tells Wanda that whatever she says between now and what’s going to happen next, will just be sucked into the abyss of retribution. And so, she gives in to the storm that is your feverish kisses and your hatred punctuating your every touch.

If she were being honest, she just wants to feel you. Logic and reason be damned.

“Y/N!” Wanda mewls when you clumsily rub her through the fabric of her nightwear, pinching her clit as soon as you find it.

There’s no trace of tenderness in the way you maneuver Wanda and deposit her to the carpeted floor of her living room.

There’s nothing gentle in the way you tug down her shorts, letting them pool around her ankles and yank her shirt up, exposing the swell of her breasts to the cool room air.

There’s only lust, and instinct, and vengeance in the painful entrapment of her hard nipple between your bared teeth.

And Wanda loves it.

It’s the punishment she didn’t know she had been craving for since the moment she invited Vision to her bed. If you needed to ruin her, Wanda would let you. She’d gladly take the beating if it means she gets to have even just a tiny fraction of you back–no matter how cruel this fraction of you might be.

Every pulsation from her clit echoes the tempo of her racing heart. Your mouth, slick and fervent, descends onto her nipple, and your tongue drags languidly across in deliberate, lascivious strokes. The visual–the sheen of wetness, the very sensation of your mouth on her–makes her cheeks flame, and instinctively, her eyes drift away. But you're not about to let that happen.

Gripping her jaw firmly, you force her to witness what you’re doing to her. “Watch,” you demand, voice husky and heavy with desire. “Don't you dare look away.”

Without breaking eye contact, you shift your attention, letting your drenched tongue lavish her other nipple, ensuring every inch of her feels that same overwhelming pleasure. Wanda's arousal pools beneath her, dampening the rug and every nerve ending draws her attention downwards, craving that much-needed release.

Wanda gasps when you slide back up abruptly, the rough friction of your shirt rubbing against her tender peaks. She smells the alcohol on your breath before she tastes it, as you pull her in for a dizzying kiss. You’re uncommonly disoriented in your movements, as if you keep deciding and then changing your mind on how you want her.

As her fingers hesitantly make their way towards the fastening of your jeans, you're quick to intercept, pushing them away. With assertive hands, you grab hers, lifting and pinning them over her head, leaving her deliciously vulnerable.

You rarely make love to her when you’re drunk. You never liked the idea of being unfocused and uncoordinated when you touch her, and you were always afraid you’d accidentally do something that might make her uncomfortable or even hurt her. But now, as your fingers skim through her wetness, not caring if your nails scrape against her sensitive skin, Wanda understands. She understands what you’re capable of when you give up control and let pure instinct take over.

She understands how perfectly capable you are of hurting her–in all aspects.

Wanda feels she’s wet enough, but it’s still painful when you enter her unceremoniously with two fingers.

“Y/N, wait–” Wanda gasps as you start to quicken your thrusts before she’s fully adjusted. “S-Slow down.”

Yet, you seem lost in your own world, utterly intoxicated by the sight of your fingers disappearing inside your ex-wife's slick folds. Despite the initial discomfort, waves of pleasure soon drown out the pain, escalating with each thrust. Wanda's left clawing at the ground beneath her as your thumb starts circling her clit, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through her.

Your fingers shift inside her, seeking out the textured area that she's most sensitive to. Wanda’s mouth falls open, warm puffs of air brushing so intimately against your chin. “Fuck, yes, right there–”

You pant against Wanda’s sternum, bitterly thinking that she will always be beautiful whether you’re seeing her through the lens of affection or loathing.

Feeling how close she is, you add another finger into her. The fullness does nothing to abate the tightening in Wanda’s stomach. She squirms beneath you, nearly delirious from the mounting ecstasy, trying to trap your hand between her knees to still your movements. But you force her legs to stay splayed open, angling your fingers to continually target that particularly responsive spot inside her.

“Kiss me,” Wanda breathlessly begs, her words feathering over your damp forehead. But instead of meeting her lips, you trace your tongue along the shell of her ear, eliciting a shiver from her. Just as she seems to reach her peak, you pull back your fingers, halting all stimulation, leaving her teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

She groans in frustration, her chest heaving, eyes dark with need. “Why?” she manages to gasp out, her hips unconsciously seeking the lost contact.

You lean close, lips brushing her earlobe. “Because I can.”

Her breathing turns even more ragged. “Y/N,” she begins, but her plea is cut off as you slowly trail kisses down her body. Every inch you move feels like an eternity for her, every kiss you plant on her skin making her shiver and writhe beneath you. When you finally reach her core, you can see how her pussy clenches with desperate need.

Positioning yourself between her legs, you pull them apart gently but firmly, giving yourself a clear view of her glistening arousal. Without touching her, you take a moment to appreciate the sight, which elicits a whimper from her.

“Look at you,” you murmur, your voice low and dangerous, each word deliberate. “And you tell me this isn’t what you want?”

Your face inches closer to her, close enough for her to feel each exhale against her sensitive skin. She attempts to buck her hips upward, seeking your lips, but you force her down with a dominant hand, immobilizing her.

“Remember,” you whisper against her, causing her to twitch from the sensation, “You're not allowed to come... not until I say.”

This is it–your form of vengeance. But even in your cruelty, it's paradoxically centered around her pleasure.

She emits a sound that's halfway between a plea and a sob, her hands grasping the carpet for any semblance of control. “Please,” she manages to choke out, sounding more desperate than ever. You slide a finger up her slit, collecting her wetness, and then move it up to circle her clit, slowly and tantalizingly. “Hold it,” you challenge, locking eyes with her, pushing her to her very limits. “Hold it or you’ll never see me again.”

The threat almost sends her over the edge.

“I—I can't,” she stammers, tears forming in her eyes, both from the effort of holding back and the emotional weight of your words. But beneath that fear is a stubborn determination. She won't let herself fall, not when so much is at stake.

You smirk, leaning down, your breath teasing her skin. The sensation of it sends shivers down her spine, her body acutely aware of every point where your warm breath touches. You trace the softest of kisses on her inner thigh, watching her tense up in anticipation.

“Relax,” you murmur, voice dripping with false sweetness. “I'm just getting started.”

Her whimper is music to your ears, but she attempts to stifle it, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. You take your time, tracing lazy circles around her entrance with your tongue, but deliberately avoiding the place she wants you the most.

When you finally slide a finger into her, Wanda arches up, trying to chase the feeling, to get more. But you pin her hips down with your free hand, your fingers moving tantalizingly slow inside her. Her breath hitches as you curl them upwards, applying pressure to that sensitive spot.

Wanda's eyes screw shut, her moans spilling out uncontrollably now. Just as she's getting accustomed to the rhythm of your fingers, you press your tongue to her clit. Her entire body shudders, the dual assault threatening to push her over the precipice.

Her whimpers grow more frantic, “Please, Y/N... Please,” a broken mantra, pleading for mercy or release, perhaps even both. But you pull back just a fraction whenever she nears her climax, drinking in her desperation. You watch her intently, taking sadistic pleasure in every twitch, every moan, every teardrop that slips from her eyes. She's on a razor's edge, strung taut, teetering between madness and ecstasy.

She pants heavily, eyes darting around the room in pure desperation, her every nerve ending screaming for release. You can see it, the raw need in her eyes, and the way her body trembles uncontrollably. With an almost wicked grin, you dive back down between her thighs.

Her whole body tenses as your tongue works fervently against her swollen clit. Your fingers find their way back inside her, thrusting hard and fast, in sharp contrast to the tantalizing teasing you’d given her before.

“Y/N,” she moans out loudly, her voice breaking from the strain of holding back for so long. But you don’t give her any room to breathe; you press on, your motions frenzied and insistent.

“Come.”

And then, all at once, she shatters.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m coming!” Wanda cries, her hips bucking uncontrollably, her warm essence splashing onto your chin. Her back arches off the floor, her fingers clawing at the carpet, as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. Her trembling arms wrap around your neck as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. You silently observe Wanda as she regains her breath, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. Her brown hair cascades over the floor, resembling a fallen angel consumed by the depths of the earth.

Wanda's face is stained with tears. However, it is only when she becomes conscious of a droplet landing on her nose that she realizes she is not the one shedding them. Cautiously, as if she’s afraid of what she might see, she opens her eyes and looks up at you.

It’s the only picture of vulnerability in you that she’ll see for the rest of the night, and her own eyes well up, struck by the realization that you can never hurt her the way she’s hurt you.

You interpret the look on her face as pity and angrily wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. “This doesn’t mean anything to me.” you mutter scathingly, even as your lips quiver from the struggle of detaching yourself from your emotions.

Wanda’s hands reach out to cradle your face. “I know,” she whispers.

“Then why are you agreeing to this?”

“I never stopped being yours,” Wanda whispers with a voice filled with fractures, and it's only your warm and solid presence that keeps her from falling apart. “It’s just how it is.”

You taste the bitterness in your tears, mixed with the metallic tang of blood from your lip from how harshly you’ve been biting down on it. How could she utter those words to you, knowing that someone else had gotten to know her so intimately in this manner?

Whatever Wanda thought she did, no matter how many times she claimed it didn’t mean anything, however briefly it was–she gave bits of herself to Vision; her body, her mind, her words, her time. Those are the things that you can’t get back. Things you can’t replace. Things you can’t account for.

Lies after lies, you think bitterly.

And yet, it only intensifies your desire to claim her one more time. To remind her what she had traded away for illicit pleasure. To ruin her for everyone else.

“Again,” you demand, the mask of indifference returning to replace the face that Wanda loves the most.

And that seals it–whatever this is. Wanda knows that this can’t end well.

But she couldn’t find it in her heart to care.

"Okay," she mumbles, her voice carrying weariness and resignation.

You wrap her shaking legs around your waist while your arms provide a secure embrace around her back. And then, with her clinging to you like a mindless puppet, you push yourself off the ground and onto your feet, Wanda along with a strength that astonishes both of you.

Wanda buries her head into the crook of your neck, hot tears slipping from her eyes as you carry her to the bedroom.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #ILGOSS excerpt #ILGOSS #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x you #wanda x reader

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columboscreens · 1 year

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Something very unfortunate, but my enthusiasm for columbo has made my friend, for some reason, not like him! How can they not like him? D: He's just a little guy!

honestly? i totally understand. and i run this blog.

columbo is likeable because we always see his best qualities. he does valiant work at a noble job. he's strong, he's intelligent; he's kind, he's just. he makes the right deductions and then makes sure he's right before acting upon them. he's played by peter falk. so yeah, most people want to kick back and have a beer with columbo, even (especially?) some of the people he puts in handcuffs.

but for a second, wash columbo of his charm, kindness, and intellect: the man is an evil fucking bastard. he is naturally annoying--one of his superpowers, which he knows and exploits. he is calculating, devious, manipulative. his overly polite, ingratiating manner wears very thin very quickly, doubly so if he's choosing to play especially dumb. he's a sadistic, disgusting, deceptive little troll who drops by unannounced and practically forces his way into your house, occupying it when it seems like he doesn't even need to be there, flaunting his authority. on top of it all he insists on billowing that cheap, stinking cigar smoke in your face, dropping ashes everywhere while smiling so smugly, so condescendingly, that you want to wring his little neck, his mumbling voice dripping with feigned apology all the while. he asks if you can use your phone, but not really, because he's actually telling you he's using it as he picks it up and makes a call before you can even open your mouth.

through it all, he outright implies that you or someone you love is a homicidal maniac.

then he fucking breaks your television. suddenly, mrs. peck becomes very sympathetic

now i'll ask you to imagine that, on top of all the aforementioned, columbo was, even once, wrong about who the killer was. i am asking you to sit there and imagine the most endearing waterboarding session you can. imagine subjecting an innocent human being to a punishment so cruel and unusual. imagine, as peter falk himself described, that a bunch of little ducks are nibbling at you, pecking at you in a hellish, promethean bid to get you to finally scream to the heavens in confession for your crime.

columbo is eminently lovable, but that love hinges entirely on the fact that he's always right. because if he isn't, he's worse than merely annoying--he's evil.

#columbo #text #ask #there is this famous japanese artist who fucking hates columbo and calls him Inconsiderate Bastard #for the life of me i cant remember his name but i always laugh when i remember that #he's so RIGHT #i accidentally posted this one too. i hate mobile tunblr im going to shoot my fucking phone #put the edit button next to the post button please. no dialogue prompt before posting. make both idiotically tiny. thank you

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desceros · 28 days

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DESCEROS LAST NAME I SWEAR TO FUCK. It's one thing to make me cry with your writing but to make me cry via your tags on a POLL???? Cruel. Unusual punishment. Ridiculous. (I'm very touched by how you described loving your work and am IMMEDIATELY adopting "it's like loving another person" as part of my understanding of the universe. Holy fuck. Holy fuck???)

(also hey hope you're well <3 I adore your work!)

it's an effort to think that way for sure, but it's one that makes my relationship with my art very special. so i'm really glad to hear that it resonated with you as well c:

and i'm doing well, thank you! my wrist has been a little cranky the last couple days which has slowed my writing more than i'd like... but i'm being careful with it, so it's more just buzzing than actual hurt. :D thank you so much for your thoughts :')))

#ask tag

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probablyottrpgideas · 3 months

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I think anyone who says that D&D is the most complex TTRPG should be forced to play Exalted

I don't believe in cruel and unusual punishment.

But they could maybe make a Traveller character and revise their opinions.

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cometcon · 8 months

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I did it. I wrote fanfic for Helluva Boss. It's consuming my mind. XD

So I was looking through the Striker tag on here for more of my favourite bastard snakey boi and found this really neat artwork. :D

And it's a really interesting concept and the artwork is so well done and they've kept just enough of Striker's sinister energy in the images that my brain just wouldn't leave me alone about it. And it got me thinking: Redeemed Striker cuddling up to Moxxie for warmth is definitely cute and even I love it (and I'm aromantic as fuck XD ). But would it be possible to write something with the same basic concept, just making it a different scenario to involve my first impression of Striker instead, without having to redeem and develop Striker first? Can I have my cake and eat it too? XD

I've changed my mind since I first posted this so here's the freshly edited new introductory waffle:

I want to flesh this out a little and write it as a whole oneshot partnered with my Blitz/Striker fic which is also set during Harvest Moon and maybe ending along the lines of the events in the canon episode, but in the meantime my brain churned out about 800 words for the specific prompt. I think I'm leaning for the fic being about Moxxie's perspective of Striker arriving at the farm. Moxxie dislikes him immediately and since Striker is an egotistical supremacist piece of shit he just doubles down on the dickwad behaviour, but keeps it subtle enough for Blitz and Millie to do their usual thing of overlooking Moxxie's concerns about things they don't see as a problem/threat/red flag (I promise I'm not hating on them; I love their characters but also sometimes it does seem like a fair bit of the shit Moxxie gets dragged into could have been avoided if they'd listened to him. XD Though then we wouldn't have the show so again, not complaining, just playing with it. Don't kill me lol.) And Moxxie understandably gets sick of Striker's shit and they begin a tit for tat resulting in Moxxie shooting Striker's window 'by accident' and then 'forgetting' to fix it. XD And since they're all sleeping in the farm house, Striker chooses to escalate with a cruel and unusual punishment...

Behold, my first ever attempt at dark fluff. XD

----------------------------------

The sound of the door opening and soft light spilling across the room made Moxxie's eyelids flicker, a low growl of annoyance building in his chest.

Millie had a bad habit of laughing off their boss' infuriating behaviour, finding it amusing. Cute, even. Moxxie vehemently disagreed, yet his complaints typically fell on deaf ears, so he usually just endured. But these night-time visits were reaching the absolute line and Moxxie had had enough. He didn't care what his wife said, he was going to fucking murder Blitz if he took even one more step toward-

His back tensed in surprise as the covers lifted, the mattress behind him sinking beneath Blitz's weight. The night had finally come. He'd suspected his boss would escalate, but the fact it was really happening took its sweet time trickling through his outraged mind. Moxxie's vicious attempt to slam his elbow into the licentious imp's gut was too slow and easily thwarted as a large hand latched onto his arm, halting its trajectory.

"Blitz, I swear to fucking Satan, I will claw your eyes out of your skull and feed them to Luna! Get off me," he hissed quietly, hoping not to wake his snoring wife. She might just tell him to move over and give Blitz more space before falling asleep again anyway.

Before he could do much else however, a long, clammy, lithe body that was decidedly not Blitz pressed into him, strong arms wrapping around his much smaller form and pulling him closer. His heartbeat accelerated and a bolt of fear shot down his spine.

"Shouldn't make threats you can't follow up on, rodent."

Striker's breath wafted over Moxxie's ear in a gentle caress. He shuddered, tugging uselessly at the unyielding grip trapping him against the assassin as he felt Striker curl further, moulding himself into every part of Moxxie he could reach. Moxxie's tail twitched, caught between them and unable to find a gap to escape.

"What the fuck?"

It should have been a shout, but his throat was tense with fright, the words emerging in an embarrassingly pathetic whimper. One hand searched for Millie, desperately praying he could wake her before they were both slaughtered in their sleep.

"Quit wriggling," Striker rumbled, fingers lacing through Moxxie's to draw the hand back into his chest.

"Why are you in here? Get out."

Moxxie still couldn't manage more than a choked whisper, but the fact there seemed to be no intention of actually harming him allowed a rising indignation to take fear's place. He tried kicking, though that only served to annoy Striker, who immediately enveloped the flailing legs between his own. It was like being stuck in a patch of quicksand; the more Moxxie struggled, the deeper he sank.

"Someone hasn't fixed the wall in my room yet. It's cold."

That long, spiked tail snaked across Moxxie's shivering skin, coiling around their tangled limbs and draping itself over his abdomen. The quiet rattle as the tip continued upward and settled by his face sent a chill through him and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"That doesn't mean you get to- mmph!"

His final, barely audible attempt at protest was swiftly cut off by Striker's free hand covering his mouth.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," came the deceptively soft admonishment, arms and tail constricting in a painful warning. Moxxie groaned and went limp, hoping it would be enough to appease, the understanding he really was at his captor's mercy sinking to the base of his stomach like a concrete brick on the ocean floor. Striker chuckled and thankfully granted him the ability to draw breath after a moment, though he remained tightly entwined with the trembling little body in his clutches, chin resting in mock affection atop Moxxie's head as he murmured, "Good boy. Go back to sleep."

This was just another one of Striker's games, he told himself. If he stayed very still and didn't cause a fuss, his tormentor would get bored and leave.

Any minute now.

The dark outline of Millie's senseless form under the blanket was silhouetted against the window, her peaceful snores the only sound stirring the atmosphere. Striker's breathing had slowed too, apparently content to stay snuggled against him, leaching his warmth and sanity alike.

Well, fuck.

When several minutes had passed without any further threat, Moxxie forced himself to relax. There was nothing he could do anyway. If Striker wanted him dead he would be already. Staying alert all night would play right into the other's aims, showing him the intimidation tactics were working the second he saw his victim's tired eyes and frazzled demeanour the next morning.

Moxxie refused to let him win that easily.

He listened for Millie, his breaths steadying as he timed them to match hers and held the image of her beautiful beaming grin in his mind. Striker was bound to slip up eventually and when he did, Moxxie would be prepared for him. A new thought of slicing the trecherous demon's throat with his own knife flashed through Moxxie's head and he smiled, playing it slowly on loop until he managed to drift off again.

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justbeingnamaste · 12 days

Text

The Biden administration is under fire for selectively prosecuting pro-life advocates who protested abortion inside abortion centers while ignoring hundreds of pro-abortion attacks on churches, pro-life groups and pregnancy centers.

Heather Idoni is one of the dozen pro-life advocates who have been charged or convicted of violating the bogus FACE law that denies free speech rights to pro-life Americans. As LifeNews reported, the pro-life advocates have been found guilty of violating a federal law protecting abortion centers and now face the possibility of 11 years in prison.

That political persecution is bad enough, but recent reports indicated Idoni was placed in solitary confinement for 22 days for sharing food with fellow prisoners. After that, a second report indicated Idoni suffered a stroke as a result of the cruel and unusual punishment.

Now, a further update on her situation indicates Idoni has been denied the essential heart medication she needs. Here’s more about what happened when reporter Louis Knuffke interviewed Idoni.

Knuffke learned ” that she had had 3 stents placed above her heart two weeks ago and was told to take daily doses of heart medicine. However, prison officials have not given her a single dose, she told Knuffke, and DC Jail personnel have told her that their records say she has been given them every day.”

Idoni, who said she was suffering from fluttering of the heart, terminated the interview after saying she would request a trip to the hospital. Knuffke then called both Idoni’s lawyer and the emergency dispatch. Please follow LifeNews on Rumble for the latest pro-life videos. “I ended up calling 911 to get a dispatch sent to the jail to make sure they didn’t ignore her,” Knuffke told this reporter. “Her lawyer said that if the doctor declares her condition was due to negligence in medical care, the marshals at the jail would be civilly liable.” Idoni told Knuffke that she was frightened that she might die, as doctors told her not to miss a dose. Idoni, who is now a prisoner at DC Jail at 1901 D Street in Washington DC, suffered a stroke two weeks ago.

Sentencing hearings for nine pro-life advocates that Biden is attempting to put in prison for a decade are set to commence Tuesday.

#Heather Idoni #Pro Life Advocate #Obiden Administration #PURE EVIL

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fox-buried-in-maple-leaves · 4 months

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6 from the kisses post w spiced maple :D?

Ask Game

6 - Character A giggling when Character B trails kisses down to their neck because they’re sensitive/ticklish there, which causes Character B to laugh along with them

Alee was always ticklish around his neck. Something the choker he wore aided with for the most part. But in his vulnerability to reveal the scars on his neck to his lover, he also revealed a rather sensitive part of his skin too. It was something Vesper took advantage of.

Xe always enjoyed the way the man giggled, a loud snort escaping him as their lips brushed against his throat. He always flailed beneath xem, pinned down under xyr weight as xe kissed his neck with feather light kisses, the ghosting of xyr lips against him.

"Vesper!" Alee whined, a loud laugh escaped the sorcerer as he tried to wiggle out from beneath xem. "Stoppp-"

Vesper chuckled against his skin, lips pressing over the layered scarring on his throat. "You're too much!" He complained between laughs.

Vesper pushed themself up some, black and blue hair a mess as xe looked down at him with an amused expression of their own. His slit pupils were round and blown, cheeks red from breathless laughter. He was free, he looked free and happy. It made xyr heart swell with pride.

"I love your laugh."

"I sound like a pig."

Vesper shook their head, kissing his nose. "You sound like you're happy." Their words were perhaps softer than they intended, sweeter than they even realised they were capable of.

He was still teaching them things about themself. Teaching xem what xe could be, what xe could feel. Alee wasn't the only one that was safe and free, no longer haunted by the image of a man he feared. Vesper was safer too. Something that the fox sorcerer ensured every day.

Alee reached up, his knuckles brushing against their warm skin. His expression softened, his pupils returning to their usual slit like appearance.

"I am happy." He clarified. "You make me happy." He promised.

"You make me happy too." Vesper smiled softly, turning their head inwards to kiss the inside of his wrist. He more than made them happy, he gave them the purpose they so sorely lacked. He made them feel like they could be more than the destiny they tried to deny.

"That's all I want, Vesu." Alee giggled, nuzzling their cheek with his. Vesper dropped his hand so they could nuzzle him back. Xe purred softly as Alee's soft fox ear brushed against their skin. The natural cat instinct xe couldn't always help. It was embarrassing, but he made it feel…

Normal.

He made xem feel normal.

Not a weapon, or the byproduct somebody else wanted.

But a normal person, with normal needs and interests. With normal love. Xe owed that to him.

Vesper exhaled, suddenly dragged from their thoughts by his sharp fingers digging into their sides.

"Ow! You have little daggers for fingers-"

Alee laughed maniacally, very pleased when they began to unravel too.

Alee couldn't help his own giggles as xe tried to wiggle away from him. It was their turn to face the music, but not like this. This was somehow cruel and unusual punishment. Alee managed to flip their positions, easily overpowering them with his raw strength alone.

"Noo!"

"Too late!" Alee pinned them down, knee on either side of them as he tickled their sides. Vesper laughed, voice high pitched and breathless as xe tried desperately to get out from underneath xyr hyper boyfriend.

"This is revenge, cat!" He teased the cat sorcerer, a gleeful smile on his face as he watched xem laugh beneath him. The sound was like music to his ears, his torn fox ear twitched happily.

"Menace!" Vesper breathed between loud laughs.

"Maybe so, but you love me!" Alee giggled at their laughter, it was infectious.

"UNFORTUNATELY!" Xe announced, pouting up at him with red cheeks. Alee relented, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to their lips instead.

He loved them too.

#☾*✲⋆. Essence of Myrrh #From The Fate ; Rowan #⋆｡°✩ Alee #⋆｡°✩ spiced maple #𓆩✧𓆪 Vesper #oc work #original work #i wrote this in minecraft btw #☾*✲⋆. Creatio Ex Chao

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eisforeidolon · 1 year

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https://ghost-of-bobby.tumblr.com/post/709113550900199424/so-lets-go-back-over-this-for-my-hate-readers-by the latest crazy from our very own Goob . There’s just no words

Ugh. I honestly feel like reading Goob posts could be used as a form of cruel and unusual punishment. To be as fair as it's possible to be, I think this is one of the more coherent ones? Still delusional batshit nonsense from beginning to end, but at least not pure word salad. There's A LOOOOOOT of crazy packed in there, though. To sum up and mock:

Don't believe what Jensen still says to this day, believe what I, random internet fuckwad, say I know he REALLY feels about D/C. [Insert brief fanfic about Jensen losing sleep because he wanted to make D/C real here.] Don't you get it, he was so torn up over it he moved to Colorado and grew that beard!!! Pandemic? Pshaw! Kripke asked him to for The Boys? You gullible fool! He was just that traumatized by the finale!!! See how I can try to make a few days of mulling it over sound like months of agonized despair by pulling more random words for being upset out of my ass?!? Pay attention to that, don't pay attention to how the actual Jensen who exists outside my head keeps saying over and over again how proud he is of SPN's ending.

Robbie was totally making a Cas spinoff because everyone knows the network was just desperately begging for one, so it's perfect because that obviously jives so well with a story about John & Mary that came to Jensen and Danneel by magic and now they're the same project!!! Arklgejk kajfld aklf s biakds dkajl!!!

JENSEN'S A HELLER, IT IS KNOWN!!! YOU LOST, I WIN!!!

[Insert another brief fanfic of conspiracy blather that there was a different Real D/C Scene suppressed by the network or Jared or somebody which is the fundamental basis of and reason for TW ... somehow.]

THIS IS REALITY!!!

Thanks, anon, I now feel dumber than I was five minutes ago.

#askboxery #anonymous #destihellers #buckets of crazy

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probssomethingorother · 8 months

Text

Whumptober No.3

Ellie, FEDRA, The Hole, Hurt No Comfort

This wasn’t a place created with any sort of comfort in mind. It was made to drive people mad, to torment them in solitude. A shiver ran through her body, not entirely from the cold. The eerie quietness of the place pressed against her ears, suffocating in its own right. ----- Ellie's first time in the Hole.

Read it down below or on Ao3! but don't forget to drop a comment wherever you read :)

Once you hit twelve, you were eligible for Hole time.

FEDRA was brutal, but even for them, imprisoning anyone younger in a damp dark concrete box was cruel and unusual punishment.

Ellie was placed into the Hole just three days after her twelfth birthday for insubordination - a blanket offense FEDRA wielded whenever they deemed a child too bothersome.

And “placed” was putting it lightly.

Physically there wasn’t much of her to control, but still, two hulking FEDRA officers held each one of her arms roughly. Their hands easily wrapped around the entirety of her upper arms, fingers even overlapping and gouging with heavy pressure. Their tight grip was sure to leave ringed bruises in their wake. Dragging her with them, their long and fast stride made her small feet skid across the ground, barely touching. She wasn’t even fighting against them, but their pace was relentless -steadfast to get rid of her. They jerked her small body around ruffly as they turned down the corridors, hallways getting darker and more dingy the closer they got to Solitary.

The Hole was located in Building D. It was an old factory that housed the laundry center, cleaning expo, and some stray military vehicles. It was a shared space used both by the normal FEDRA units and the training division. The children of the training division spent much more time in there on the whole - manning the stations by washing clothes, cleaning equipment, stripping down cars, and of course, enduring time in the Hole.

It was located on the second basement level, just above the access tunnels to the factory steam pipes. Relegated to its bowels, its isolation was intentional, ensuring the world above was as far away as possible.

Ellie gulped down her worries as they led her down the last flight of stairs, onto the final basement level. It was noticeably quieter down here than the floor above, the echo of their rushed footsteps and the consistent rustling of the officer’s keys were the only things piercing the silence. A few fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed, but most were off, creating an eerie dim atmosphere.

It wasn't Ellie's first time in Building D, but it certainly was the first time on this level. The pit in her stomach grew heavier with every step she was dragged forward. It wasn’t anything kept a secret amongst the kids, she knew what to expect, but it was all still quite nerve-racking nonetheless. She always thought that she would be able to handle it, but then she saw some other kids her age spend their first nights there, people she thought would also be able to handle it - and well, they had come out... different.

Ellie didn’t want to come back different.

Whisking her deeper down the hall, they finally arrived at the end, a small desk stationed in the middle of the corridor dimly lit by a fading desktop lamp. Ellie was jolted to a stop as the FEDRA officers halted in front of it. The old officer manning it didn’t even look up from whatever he was reading, just passed one of the officers a clipboard with an attached pen.

The officer on her right took it, releasing their grip on Ellie’s arm to fill out the needed log. The absence had blood rushing to the spot, and it was only then did Ellie realized how hard she was being secured. Instinctively, her other arm reached out to touch and soothe it but still stuck in the grip of the other officer, her arm was yanked back and away with a glare.

“Don’t fucking move,” the restraining officer grumbled.

Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Williams. E. 53013117. 24 hours,” the other officer plainly voiced, pen audibly scratching across the crusty paper. He returned the clipboard with a clatter, the thick board dropping against the vinyl desk top. Still fixated on something else, the desk attendant didn’t raise to look at them, just monotonely replied, “Six is open. Back right,” while carelessly holding out a set of keys.

The moment the keys were grabbed, Ellie was being dragged again, shuffled behind the desk by the same two officers, and led back even further down the hall. Soon, ten doors came into view, four on either side, two on the back wall. Still holding tight, they directed her to the heavy steel door on the right, the number 6 worked into the door with bolt heads. A small window, high up, was the only way to peek inside, but at her height, Ellie could see nothing.

She gulped down, bracing herself.

Wasting no time, one of the officers turned the key into the lock with a loud echoing clang and the door creaked open, revealing the small, dark space inside.The grip on her arms was abandoned as they stood in the doorway, and when Ellie made no immediate moves to head further in, one of the officers pushed at her back, causing her to stumble forward.

“Twenty-four,” he grumbled, “tap is in the corner, toilet too, food once a day, talking or making sounds, you stay longer.” His words were cold and rehearsed, his face stoic.

“Just sit and don’t be a little shit.” The other officer added, clearly annoyed, like somehow this was an inconvenience.

Ellie bit her lip to keep from lashing out. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her react. She wouldn't cry or beg not to go in. Not in front of them. She stepped further in, turning around just in time to see the door slam shut. The small upper slat screeched close not a second later, leaving her completely alone in oppressive inky black darkness.

Her eyes slowly started to adjust.

The Hole was exactly as she had imagined - small, maybe six by six, and so damp that she could feel the moisture on the walls and floor. It was cold for now, but she had heard that when the steam pipes got used below, sometimes the heat leaked through and made the rooms unbearably hot. There were rumors about an older kid dying once - suffocated under the oppressive moist heat. Currently, the air was thick and stale, but not suffocating like that.

Sucking in a deep breath, she slid down the left wall to sit on the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest. She squinted as she took in the room, eyes still struggling to get used to seeing without light.

As her eyes tried to adjust to the abysmal darkness, she realized there was no need. There was really nothing to see. There was no bed or blankets or anywhere to rest other than the floor. The tap wasn’t much more than a rusty spigot coming from the wall, no sink attached, or even a drain on the floor. The toilet was basically an open silver basin, and by the smell of things, it didn’t flush, just emptied straight down through a hole and pipe below.

This wasn’t a place created with any sort of comfort in mind. It was made to drive people mad, to torment them in solitude.

A shiver ran through her body, not entirely from the cold. The eerie quietness of the place pressed against her ears, suffocating in its own right. The lack of sounds irritated her so much that it made her physically restless, and after just twenty minutes of sitting, Ellie was up and pacing around - at least then the soft squelch of her shoes on the damp floor provided a noise other than the sound of her own breathing.

She made the circle over and over and over again, walking around and around until that too became just as irritating.

With a huff, she stopped and slid down the door this time, head listlessly banging back against it in annoyance. Her ponytail made the position uncomfortable, pushing into her scalp, but she couldn’t find herself to care all that much since the whole place was so uncomfortable anyway.

As she sat against the cool steal, she realized that from here she could now hear someone crying in another cell, voice just barely wafting through the tiny space between the ground and the bottom of the door.

It sounded like a young boy and the only person she knew her age who had received Hole time recently was “Mikey P.” But he got in trouble three days ago - watched him get dragged away herself. He had tried to sneak into a better mess group so all the good food wouldn’t be taken but was caught. Ellie didn’t think that was a three-day infraction so FEDRA must have upped his time while down here. She wondered if it was for the crying, or if the crying was because of the increased time.

She desperately wanted to call out, see if it was him, but she wasn’t about to test how strict the no-sound rule was. Ellie slowly leaned and lowered herself to the floor, laying on her side so her ear was closer to the ground and the door gap. She let Mikey’s crying fill her ears because even his sobs were better than silence. She dug at the ground with her nail as she stayed there, waiting and waiting for the time to pass, listening to him go on and on.

No FEDRA kids were ever given lullabies as children, but somehow twisted as it was, the cries were one for Ellie. Eventually, she fell asleep.

What she awoke to was not cries though, it was small squeaking, short and high pitched right in front of her face. Her eyes opened quickly, only to be met with a dark silhouette of a rat just a few inches from her face. It somehow sensed her awakening, and before Ellie even had a chance to react, it was scurrying away, brushing past her hand and onto somewhere else in the room.

Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as her body stayed still for a moment, petrified. Ellie hated rats. One summer there was a small infestation, and everyone in her dorm block was being nibbled on in their sleep. They did an extermination treatment after that, and barely any remained. There was one left that she affectionally called Fat Carl, which despite its name was actually quite small, but was plump, almost like a ball, and never moved beyond the downstairs kitchen - certainly never nibbled on human flesh, just human food.

This rat was not Carl.

It was a large dirty gross thing even if she couldn’t see it that well. She knew it, just did.

And the thought of it crawling over her or nibbling on her while she slept made Ellie’s skin crawl. Without a clock or even a glimmer of natural light, she had no way of discerning how long she had been asleep and maybe had let it happen. Her only judge of time was that Mikey's cries had ceased, or maybe he too had fallen asleep. Either way, she concluded that she had drifted off too long because it was certainly long enough for the dreaded rodent to get close to her.

It wouldn’t be happening again.

Steadying herself and casting aside the knowledge there was something in here with her, Ellie slowly rose from the ground, cautious. The ache of sleeping on a cold, hard floor permeated her muscles and joints, and her hand instinctively went to her neck to massage out the stiffness. Her mouth was dry and begrudgingly she made her way to the tap to get some water.

She crossed the small room with tiny steps, apprehensive to where the rat had scurried off to. The non-existent light made it impossible to spot, but she knew it was there, somewhere, prowling in the shadows, waiting to get a taste of her.

With a dejected sigh, she kneeled down underneath the spigot and opened her mouth. A weak stream of water poured out, almost a trickle despite Ellie twisting the nob all the way to the end. The water tasted quite metallic, and Ellie was sure it was probably the same grimy yellow stuff that poured from the hoses they used to wash down the vehicles on the upper level of the building.

She was glad she couldn’t see what color it was in the dark and verify her suspicion.

Again, she went over to the wall, left this time - might as well test them all - and slid down it. Her knees came up to her chest and she rested her forearms on them, letting her hands dangle in the air. She didn’t know what had set her off, but suddenly there was tears prickling at her waterline, nose getting runny. She sniffled it all back.

She didn’t want to cry. She wasn’t a crybaby, she wasn’t like Mikey. She could handle this. But maybe Mikey was crying because he was being eaten by rats. What if she was going to be eaten by rats? What if they kept her down here longer, like him?

She brought her nose to her arm, wiping away the snot that was eagerly trying to run out her nose and used one hand to wipe away her tears, blinking the budding ones away.

She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t.

As Ellie sat, the space slowly started to get colder and colder, and her arms moved from her legs to hug herself, brushing up and down to create some warmth. She was wearing a long sleeve and jeans, but the worn-out clothing was not doing much to stave off the chill, especially now that it was just slightly damp from lying down.

If it wasn’t so dark, she probably would be able to see her breath. Her jaw began to quiver with shivers. She desperately tried to ignore it, but the coldness started to seep into her bones, the kind of cold that was unforgiving, and cruel. Briefly, she wondered if having the steam pipes on would be better, but dying of heat seemed worse than dying of cold.

She didn’t actually think she would die, but her mind produced the idea nonetheless, just a brief intrusive thought of her own demise- a FEDRA officer coming back to find her frozen to death in the dark of this concrete box.

It was a fleeting image, her brain quickly jumping to another scene- her body frozen in the darkness of space, floating around lost in the void.

She always liked space and didn’t know why her brain was bringing it forward with this depressing scenario.

Space. Cold and Dark. Just like the Hole.

Ellie screwed her eyes shut, trying to get rid of the image in her head, but that only made small speckles appear on her inner eyelids, little dots that easily could be mistaken for stars. When she opened them, the little floaters remained in her vision painting the darkness of the room for a minute until they slowly dissipated away.

Space. Stars. Cold and Dark. Just like the Hole.

Just like the Hole.

Tightly squeezing her eyes shut again and opening them to produce a new set of stars, Ellie took a deep breath in before relaxing against the wall more.

She softly whispered to herself, "Ground control, this is astronaut Williams. Do you copy?”

She paused, waiting for a response from the non-existent command center. “Ground Control do you copy?” She whispered again.

She brought her hand up to her mouth as if she were holding a microphone, and dropped her tone as she softly replied, “Copy, loud and clear Williams.”

Moving her hand to her ear, she pretended she had a communicator there, and clicked it on, continuing, “Astronaut Williams is ready to commence mission training.” She quickly flipped back to her lower register, again bringing the imaginary mic up to her mouth. “Copy. Mission training is a go.”

Ellie took a moment, breathing in and out deeply, imagining herself inside a spacesuit. Every inhale was a gust of oxygen from her tank, every exhale was her body expelling the bad air, adjusting to the vacuum. The cold air stung as she inhaled, but she reminded herself that Astronauts faced conditions far harsher than this in space.

The cold. The dark. The solitude. If they could do it, so could she. If she wanted to be one of them, then she had to do this.

"Mission Objective: Survive 24 hours," she whispered into the communicator.

Faintly, she heard a quiet rustle and small squeak, her rat roommate still somewhere close. She took a shaky breathy in and pushed her eyes shut, producing another galaxy of stars in her vision. She opened them slowly and shakily breathed out.

"Accept," she responded to herself, though her voice wavered slightly as she plopped her head down on her knees. With a sigh, she sent a final message to command, “Heading out of range of coms,” she said even more quietly, words drifting off, losing her vibrato as her mind began filling with imagery of the world beyond this one.

Drawing her knees closer to her chest, she allowed herself to get lost in it. Mind pretending she was floating in the dark, walking on the moon, landing on a comet, anywhere but the bleak reality of the Hole.

Her shivering became less frequent as her mind transported her away. Hours seemed to pass, and soon, her vision blurred, sleep threatening to take over again. She tried to fight it, still so fricken scared of that rat, still lurking, but it was little use. Her eyes fluttered closed, but her mind was to kind to her - letting her retreat into space in her sleep too - Astronaut Ellie traveling the universe.

This time, she was pulled from her sleep by the sounds of metal hitting metal on the other side of the door. It was followed by the upper slot opening with a grating screech, dim light powering through.

Ellie didn’t think it had been twenty-four hours yet, but perhaps she was wrong. She scrambled off the ground quickly, and reaching the door went on her tippy toes, hands resting against the cool metal door in support. She was so small that it did nothing to help her see through the slot. Even raised up, the top of her head barely hit the bottom of the small opening.

Within a quick second of coming under the slot, food was being pushed through it without any warning. Unable to reach, or even ready to grab it, the small tray tumbled onto Ellie’s head, contents spilling all over her. The tray then hit the floor with a clatter and a plastic cup that accompanied it made hollow sounds as it bounced and then rolled away.

“Fuckers,” she whispered as she stood in disbelief, milk dripping from her head and some sort of globby mush slowly sliding down and doing the same.

She could pretend all she wanted, but this certainly wasn’t space. This was FEDRA. This was the Hole.

#whumptober 2023 #no.3 #solitary confinement #the last of us #tlou #hurt no comfort #ellie williams #astronaut ellie #FEDRA #the Hole #ao3 fanfic #tlou fic #tipsy bison #the tipsy bison #Ellie hates rats I making it canon #i actually don't like this #but its getting posted!#my fic #dark as space

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bluiex · 1 year

Note

YES MITHZAN AND YOURPALROSS! I LOVE THOSE GUYS! I’ve watched them for years and never would I have thought anyone here would have watched them! But I really wanna hear this Redstoner x Hermits au now!

(Also Bluei, which would you prefer. 5k of Contract or 5k of Oasis Au?)

-Cys

:D I too wanna know more

(This is cruel and unusual punishment making me pick between the two!!... Oasis)

#bluie gets an ask poggers

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gaysonlyocean · 10 months

Note

CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT TO ME

#POIUGTFRDFGTYHUJI THANK YOU

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the-nation-of-beauland · 2 years

Text

Beauland Bill of Rights 2022

An Act for the Protection of Inherent Human Rights and Freedoms, Recognized by the Nation of Beauland, Inherent to all of Humanity Upon Birth and Until Death

Preamble

The Governing Body of Beauland, affirming that the Nation of Beauland is founded upon principles that acknowledge the dignity and worth of all Humans, regardless of ethnicity, age, religion, spirituality, sex, class, education, gender identity, country of origin, disability, and/or sexuality in a society of free Humans and free Institutions;

Affirming also that Humans and Institutions remain free only when freedom is founded upon respect for moral values and the rule of law;

And being desirous of enshrining these principles and the Human Rights and fundamental freedoms derived from them, in a Bill of Rights which shall reflect the respect of the Governing Body of Beauland for its constitutional authority and which shall ensure the protection of these rights and freedoms of Beauland:

Therefore His Royal President and King, by and with the advice and consent of the Governing Body of Beauland, enacts as follows:

Part 1

Recognition and declaration of rights and freedoms

It is hereby recognized and declared that of Beauland there have existed and shall continue to exist without discrimination the following human rights and fundamental freedoms, namely,

• (a) the right of the individual to life, liberty, security of the person and enjoyment of property, and the right not to be deprived thereof except by due process of law;

• (b) the right of the individual to water, food, shelter, basic income, healthcare, and full bodily autonomy so that they cannot be forced into slavery or indentured servitude or have a choice affecting their own body decided by a governing body;

• (c) the right of the individual to equality before the law and the protection of the law;

• (d) freedom of religion (without intent to harm or incite violence);

• (e) freedom of speech (without intent to harm or incite violence);

• (f) freedom of assembly and association (without intent to harm or incite violence); and

• (g) freedom of the press (without intent to cause harm or incite violence)

Construction of law

Every law of Beauland shall be so construed and applied as not to abrogate, abridge or infringe or to authorize the abrogation, abridgment or infringement of any of the rights or freedoms herein recognized and declared, and in particular, no law of Beauland shall be construed or applied so as to

• (a) authorize or effect the arbitrary detention, imprisonment, servitude, or exile of any person;

• (b) impose or authorize the imposition of cruel and unusual treatment or punishment;

• (c) deprive a person who has been arrested or detained:

• (i) of the right to be informed promptly of the reason for his arrest or detention,

• (ii) of the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay, or

• (iii) of the remedy by way of habeas corpus for the determination of the validity of his detention and for his release if the detention is not lawful;

• (d) authorize a court, tribunal, commission, board or other authority to compel a person to give evidence if he is denied counsel, protection against self crimination or other constitutional safeguards;

• (e) deprive a person of the right to a fair hearing in accordance with the principles of fundamental justice for the determination of his rights and obligations;

• (f) deprive a person charged with a criminal offence of the right to be presumed innocent until proved guilty according to law in a fair and public hearing by an independent and impartial tribunal, or of the right to reasonable bail without just cause; or

• (g) deprive a person of the right to the assistance of an interpreter in any proceedings in which he is involved or in which he is a party or a witness, before a court, commission, board or other tribunal, if he does not understand or speak the language in which such proceedings are conducted.

Part 2

Savings

• (1) Nothing in Part I shall be construed to abrogate or abridge any Human Right or Freedom not enumerated therein that may have existed of Beauland at the commencement of this Act.

• Marginal note: "Law of Beauland" defined

(2) The expression "Law of Beauland" in Part I means an Act of the Governing Body of Beauland enacted before or after the coming into force of this Act, any order, rule or regulation thereunder, and any law in force of Beauland or of any part of Beauland at the commencement of this Act that is subject to be repealed, abolished or altered by the Governing Body of Beauland

(3) The provisions of Part I shall be construed as extending only to matters coming within the legislative authority of the Governing Body of Beauland

#beauland #micronation #beauland bill of rights

4 notes · View notes