#BLOCK AND REPORT THIS SCUMBAG

[cosmica-galaxy]

Hello, I'm from Gaza City because of the war,my house was destroyed. We lost everything,my family and I did not have anything left. We left our homes in search of a safe place and we were displaced three  times to different places to survive, but unfortunately there's no safe place in Gaza. My mother is very sick and she's a kidney failure patient in need of treatment outside. She suffers from LS. Help me and my family to survive. Please, your small donation can make a huge difference. A friend outside Gaza has come in to help me run the donation program so that my mother can be evacuated

Alright. THIS is where I draw the line with scammers like you people. Are you fucking serious? You are trying to use a FUCKING GENOCIDE to SCAM PEOPLE? Whoever is in charge of this account should be FUCKING ASHAMED. How dare you come into MY inbox with your filthy money hungry scheming hands, using the Palestine people's REAL suffering to make a quick buck! How absolutely DISGUSTING are you?! I am all for a free Palestine and I hope that my activism and support get ACTUAL real families out of Gaza and to safety where they can get help and survive this atrocity they are being FORCED to endure.

YOU, however, are NOT a Palestine refugee. You are a fucking soulless a scammer/bot that should be so fucking ashamed!

How do I know? Your account was made a FUCKING DAY AGO. Also, your con-artist link to fucking Paypal says "Fred Odhiambo", I looked up "Fred Odhimabo Palestine" on ANY social media and got NOTHING.

If you were real or genuine, you would have a post on insta, facebook, or even Twitter...but no. You are only on tumblr with a stupid fake sob story about people's GENUINE suffering in another country trying to beg people for money. You are a fucking disgrace to whomever you represent. Selling crack would be a more honorable way to make a living, you absolute slimeball.

Get the fuck out of my goddam face and crawl back to the heartless monster that gave rise to such a pathetic entity such as yourself.

Human or bot, you are filth and you are NOT welcome on my blog. Get reported and go the fuck away. Absolute disgusting behavior. -- PLEASE PEOPLE! BE WARY OF THESE INBOX DONATION SEEKERS. THEY ARE SHAMELESS, JUST LIKE THIS ONE. To support ACTUAL Palestinians, seek out sources on Arab.org, The UWRA, or registered Palestine Funds! DON'T FALL FOR THESE SCAMMERS.

THEY SHOULD BE FUCKING ASHAMED FOR EVEN STOOPING THIS LOW. DISGUSTING!

[eurekq]

We as a website really have to stop telling strangers to kill themselves. Its quite frankly disgusting, helps nothing, and is pointlessly cruel.

[azsazz]

In Safe Arms

Bodyguard!Azriel x Celebrity!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Hey ! Ik u are hella busy and I am so proud of ur for ur publication , but if u ever get time could u do a Celebrity reader x bodyguard az?

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2390

_________________________________________

“I said back the fuck off!” Azriel growls, and you know for a fact that the paparazzi who’s been steadily inching closer and closer throughout the night has landed himself on your bodyguards shit list.

Azriel’s hand doesn’t leave the small of your back, no matter how much he wants to lunge across the sidewalk and knock the fucking camera out of this goon’s hands. The man’s been harassing you all week, from the moment you stepped off the plane in New York, getting testier and testier with his shots, following you from your hotel to your shoots, to parties and bars and back to your hotel late into the evening hours. He doesn’t know how the man finds the time to sleep, honestly.

And he knows it’s the same one following you around, not only because it’s his job to remember people that might prove to be a threat to you, but because he’d never forget this fucking scumbag’s face.

You duck your head lower, pressing Azriel’s handkerchief tightly to your eyebrow. There’s blood dripping into your eye from whatever it was a fan tossed your way as soon as you’d stepped foot out of your SUV. Azriel had been turned toward you, lending you a helping hand from the vehicle when it struck. He whirled around, but it was too late, the coward had slunk off into the crowd before he could sniff them out like a bloodhound.

And Azriel was livid.

If your father had just hired two bodyguards to protect you instead of one, this wouldn’t have happened.

Not that Azriel isn’t qualified to keep you safe by himself. With six years of training with the Royal Marines under his belt, he’s more than capable. He’s carried injured men across his back for miles when there was no hope of getting out for fuck’s sake. But this is a new playing field entirely. You’re the most well-known celebrity he’s had the pleasure of working with, and when your father didn’t heed his advice that one bodyguard was not enough, he knew he was going to be in for a challenge.

A challenge that he’s failed tonight.

You let him lead you blindly, trying your best to block out your surroundings: the screaming fans begging for a picture or autograph, the stream of liquid you’re desperately trying to blink from your eye and soak up with the rag. Your heart is pounding loudly in your chest, breathing shallow pants, and the only thing keeping you from collapsing right onto the concrete outside of your hotel is Azriel’s strong hand at your back, guiding you to safety.  

“Almost there,” he murmurs at your back, and your shoulders slacken slightly at the familiarity of his voice cutting through all the other noises that pierce your ears. “Only a few more steps and we’ll be in the lobby.”

He’s right, the concierge is holding the door open just enough for the both of you to slip through, and when it shuts tightly behind you, muffling off the loud wails and camera flashes, you release a shaky breath.

“Miss, are you okay?” The man asks, concern lacing his tone, like his job is on the line because someone decided to toss something at your face. “Do you need me to call the polic—”

“No, no,” you blurt frantically, waving him off. “That’s not necessary.”

“(Y/N)—” Azriel tries to cut in, and you know that this is something he’s going to have to report to his boss. Concern laces his tone, not for his job, but for you, because you’re injured and shaking in the middle of the lobby, looking like an abandoned puppy left to wilt in the rain. “I think you should—”

“No, Az,” you choke out, finally lifting your gaze from the floor to meet his. The look he wears makes your breath catch in your throat, but looking at him always does. He’s beautiful. And completely off limits.

His thick, straight brows are the only thing that gives his concern away. There’s a wrinkle between them that you want to reach out and smooth with the pad of your finger. His mouth is set in a firm line, not unusual for the stoic man. And his eyes, well his eyes are roiling with anger, hot coals ready to combust.

You don’t even care that you’ve called him the name you shouldn’t. You’re not supposed to address him by his name at all, let alone the nickname you’ve secretly become fond of. Right now, though, you’re much to shaken to realize your slip up, and he’s too worried about your wound to correct you.

“Please,” you beg, tears brimming your eyes. His tall, built frame conceals you from the people still lingering outside, and he spots that fucking paparazzi from the corner of his eye, smirking in the window as he cranes as far as he can to be the first to get a shot at your injury. “I want to go to my room.”

You’re already pulling the cloth from your face, and he’s quick to reach out and press it back, all too aware of the people around. Any one of them could spill the beans, could secretly be listening or recording, ready to make a quick buck off your horrendous night. Fucking assholes, all of them.

“Okay,” he consoles, glaring harshly at the concierge when he opens his mouth to protest. The man’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click, and he scurries away. Returning his attention to you, one hand pinning yours and the cloth you’re clutching to your face, he urges you toward the elevator. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

The doors chime open, and after getting you on safely and pushing the button to the suite on the top floor of the building, Azriel shoots one last menacing look to the paparazzi that’s still standing out front. He’s going to have a few phone calls tonight, with the hotel security and the local police, because he doesn’t want that fuck anywhere near you ever again.

The sleazy pap has the gall to wink at Azriel before the doors shut between you and the man he knows will be standing in that exact spot come the morning when it’s time for you to leave again.

The ride is long, and with the adrenaline draining from your system, you’re exhausted. Azriel lets you sag against him, and you trust him so fully that you let your eyes drift shut, allowing him to guide you through your room and straight into the bathroom so that he can take care of your wound.

You crack your eyes open when he lifts you to rest on the counter before dropping to his knees and helping you out of your heels. Your feet scream happily, and your body ignites at the sight of him on his knees before you.

Standing, he shoves the sleeves of his thick, black shirt up over his elbows, exposing those strong forearms you’d had the pleasure of peeking at for the last few months. That’s not the only thing you’ve noticed about Azriel. There are scars on his hands, bad ones. You don’t know what they’re from, but you’re aching to know. To learn anything about the man who’s been your bodyguard for the better part of this year.

“I think you should go home,” Azriel says softly. Or, as softly as someone like him can. It sounds harsh, gruff, but you know he doesn’t mean it like a demand. He’s concerned in his own way.

“I can’t pull out of my appearances, that’ll only make me look worse,” you argue, sliding back onto the counter he guides you to. People already hate you enough for the rift that Azriel has caused in your relationship with superstar Tamlin Oleander. Having an attractive man protecting you has not only made the man your team is paying to be with you insecure, but he’s been twisting this story for too long already. Pulling out of your appearances now will only give the fans another reason to pick and tear at you.

He scrubs his hands hard with the bar of soap in the sink before toweling them off and looking at your injury.

There’s a split above your eyebrow. Face wounds bleed a lot, he tells himself, smothering the memory that rises at the sight. Except that that injury was about an inch lower, and his comrade didn’t make it out alive.

“Who cares about looking worse,” Azriel scoffs. This time, he speaks harsher, but his movements against your face are still soft. The sting is barely there because you’re focusing on the buzz his fingertips brushing your skin provide. You’re focusing on the soft spot in his hazel eyes as he examines your wound, his breath against your skin. It’s dizzying. And not from the blood loss. “You should care about being safe.”

Neither of you brings up that it’s his job to do just that, but it sits heavily in the room anyway, sucking all the air from the expansive bathroom.

He swallows harshly, refusing to look at you. He busies himself with plucking a few butterfly bandages from the first aid kit beside him. The split skin above your eyebrow aches when he pinches the slice together to apply the bandage. “I’ll call down to the lobby to see if there’s someplace more private we can meet the car to take you to the hospital. You’re going to need a stitch or two.”

“Azriel, wait,” you call, grabbing for his hand when he turns to leave the room. You know exactly what’s going to happen when he crosses over that threshold. “Please don’t call him.”

He allows you to stop him, but he doesn’t turn to face you. He can’t. Can’t bear to look at you when his failure is staring right back at him. He let you get hurt, and he’ll never forgive himself for it.

Azriel’s body is too still, and his tone is too even when he answers. “I have to.”

“You don’t,” you plead, clutching him tighter. If he calls your father and tells him about what happened tonight you know you’ll never see him again, and if you never see him again, you’ll be fucking miserable. You’ve found comfort in Azriel’s presence throughout the time you’ve been working together, and he’s the only one who’s been able to see through the façade you put on, the personality you’ve spent so long pretending to be. He sees you.

“I do.”

“Why?” You don’t care that you’re getting worked up, that you voice is becoming louder with your desperation. That your nails are biting into the skin of his arm because you refuse to let him walk away from you.

Azriel whirls, and you startle back a step. But you don’t let him go, you never want to let him go. You take him with you, and he goes tripping forward with how you’ve caught him off guard.

He stumbles into you and his hands find your waist, steadying you against the counter. His grip on you is tight. His eyes defeated.

“I couldn’t protect you tonight,” he admits, and you can hear the heartbreak in his voice, you can almost see the memories that resurface, threatening to drag him under. “You need someone who can.”

“You can, Azriel! It’s an isolated incident!” You’re desperately trying to get him to see reason, scrabbling your fingers at his shirt, dragging him even further into you. Tears slide down your face, and for the first time of the night, you’re afraid. You weren’t scared when Azriel was the one there, jumping into action, but now, thinking that he might leave you, you’re terrified.

“It won’t be,” he sighs, brushing his fingers softly over yours, trying to calm you down lest you reopen your wound. “Now that it’s happened, other will try, and I can’t have you getting hurt, sweetheart. I can’t protect you like I thought I could.”

Neither of you catch his slip of the tongue, too caught up in the emotions for it to register.

You can’t swallow back the sob. You try to bury your face in his shirt, but Azriel catches you gently around the shoulders, keeping you from hurting yourself.

His hands are calloused and strong, you can feel the ridges of the scarring that paints them. So tender, so cruel, so soft.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” you admit, blinking your tears away to meet his gaze. You don’t care that your makeup is probably a mess with your tears and whatever’s left of the blood, and Azriel doesn’t care because he still thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Azriel presses his forehead against yours, swiping your tears with his thumbs. “I won’t,” he promises, “I can’t.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and just like that, you’re staring up and him and he’s staring back at you like you’re the most prized possession in this hotel, in this world.

He doesn’t know when he fell for you, if it was the way you tried to find the cracks in his stoic exterior between photoshoots and interviews, or if it’s the way you opened yourself up for him only, showed him the real you.

You’re nothing like the way you’re portrayed in the media. None of those fucking people know how big your heart is, how much you’ve been hurt, how much you care.

And he’d lie down his life to keep you safe and whole.

“Promise me.” You breathe. Your lips brush his as you speak, and the gentle touch sends shockwaves up your spine. You follow their current, lengthening your spine, pushing closer to Azriel. His hands tighten on your hips, and you spread your legs wider for him so slot himself between.

He does with a jagged breath, like he’s trying to hold himself back but is unable. His hazel eyes bore into yours and you see the war there, how he wants to go against everything he vowed not to do with you. He shouldn’t be anywhere near you like this…but he can’t help himself.

“I promise,” he says, along with ‘fuck it’ in his head, and leans down to capture your lips against his.

[wilwheaton]

Hi! I just wanted to confirm something, because roaming around the internet has taught me to be wary of any request. But I received a message request on instagram from a Sharon Grey saying she was your online manager and I just wanted to confirm if she is or not. And if not, please be aware of this person making requests on your behalf.

This person is a liar and a scumbag. I don't have an "online manager" and I 've never heard the name "Sharon Grey" before today.

I will never directly contact anyone using social media. I have no private accounts that you can have secret access to. I have no secret anything that I am using a secret account to DM you about. Those are all scumbag scammers who can die in a fire.

Please block and report this account, and any others that try to pull this scam on you.

Thanks for asking me, and giving me an opportunity to answer in public. This happens a couple times a year, and it's happening now.

[keyboardsinmyface]

Scammer warning

⚠️ There is this asshole who posts stolen artwork with a link to possibly malicious website.

They're currently spamming maccadam tag, and it seems like they're actively erasing any comments that calls them out on this bullshit.

DO NOT CLICK THE LINK. BLOCK, AND REPORT.

DO NOT CLICK THE LINK. BLOCK, AND REPORT.

DO NOT CLICK THE LINK. BLOCK, AND REPORT.

DO NOT CLICK THE LINK. BLOCK, AND REPORT.

Be careful, and please avoid interacting with this scumbag at any cost.

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Hank Voight x Fem!Reader Oneshot (Part 1)

TW: domestic violence, multiple mentions of suicide

Synopsis: Reader is being abused and feels like she has nowhere else to turn to but a dirty cop named Voight.

Part one of however many because I like this idea and want to run with it a little haha.

Maurice Owens. Gangbanger. Scumbag.

Unfortunately, you needed his help.

You walked up to him, about midnight. His bodyguards stood, showing their guns, but you weren’t scared. You’d had worse than a pistol whip or bullet hit your body. “I’m just here to talk. I don’t have a weapon.”

“Alright, and who are you, huh? Never seen you around this block before,” Maurice replied, motioning his guards to sit back down. “You come looking for something, baby? You lost?”

“I heard you’re out there on the streets. I need to get a hold of someone. Think you can help?”

“Depends on what you can give me in return, baby girl.”

You sighed softly as Maurice eyed you up and down. You didn’t think you looked that good, but some men would bang anything that breathed. “Alright, then. What’s your price for information on a cop?”

“Cop?” Maurice huffed. “I don’t know no cops.”

“Look, I’m not stupid, Maurice. Anybody who’s heard your name knows you’re in bed with some dirty cops. I’m not PD and I’m not here to report them. I want to get a hold of one. A cop who can help me.”

“What’re you trying to do? Run game on the streets?”

You shook your head, sighing again, this time louder. “Look, I just need a cop who can help get me out of a bad situation. I’ve heard the name Voight tossed around by some bangers on my block. Get me him.”

Maurice laughed. “Voight, huh? He’s not the kind of guy you find. He finds you.”

“Then tell him to find me.”

“Ambitious, aren’t you? And, what should I tell Voight, should I ever cross paths with him?”

You thought for a moment before nodding to him. “Tell him I’ll be waiting for him. 2PM tomorrow - at Butler Field.”

“Yeah? I doubt he’s going to come just for that. I mean, I wouldn’t.”

“Didn’t I say I need help? Just tell him that. If he doesn’t show, then make sure you catch the news tomorrow night. They’ll be scraping me off sidewalk somewhere in the city.”

Maurice scoffed as you walked away, but whistled to you. “Hey, how are you gonna pay for this info?”

“You only get paid if this works out for me. Otherwise, you won’t have to worry about killing me. I’ll do it myself.”

With that, you walked away, listening to Maurice and his men talk about you.

.

When you got home, you let out a breath before walking around your house and to the back steps, as quietly as possible. Slowly, you moved the knob and opened it. The creak of your back door seemed like a siren compared to the silence in your house. You let out a slow breath, opening it only as much as necessary to slip your wiry figure through it, then closing it just like how you opened it. You bit your lip and turned around, the light turning on behind you. When you turned, he was standing there, arms crossed. You looked up at him like a child who had just been caught in the cookie jar.

“Where did you go?”

“I-I just went for a walk,” you replied, your voice shaking. It was the complete opposite from the way you’d spoke to Maurice just twenty minutes earlier.

“Yeah? At midnight? Without me?”

“You… You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you up. I just needed some time to myself, and-“

Shit.

“Time to yourself?! Huh?!” He moved forward quickly, getting into your face and pushing you against the door. His hands gripped your shoulders to pin you against the wood, squeezing hard.

“Ah-Ah, ow! Please, Jeff! P-Please, please!”

“You bitch!” His hand raised, making you close your eyes and brace just as his hand came down on your cheek.

You cried out in pain, hot tears coming to your eyes. You were exhausted despite your adrenaline pumping. You barely ate, barely slept, and his abuse didn’t help. You had bruises from weeks ago that hadn’t healed because you were so unhealthy. “Please, Jeff! Please, stop!” You just wanted it all to be over. Voight was your last hope.

“Why did you leave tonight, huh?! Who were you going to see?!”

“Nobody! I swear, nobody!” You sobbed as his fist found your ribs, making you curl in pain and collapse on the floor.

“Tell me the truth, bitch!”

He kicked you, over and over and over again. Eventually, you blacked out, bloody and bruised.

—

When you woke again, it was mid-morning. Your body ached and your head spun. You slowly say up, wincing softly at the pain. You couldn’t be too loud, or else he would do it again. You pulled yourself up, stumbling to the bathroom to shower and change.

You peeled off your clothes, whimpering softly at every movement. Dark bruises were on your bony shoulders where his hands had dug into you the night before. Your protruding ribs, similarly, had dark bruises all over them. Not to mention all of the other cuts, bruises and scars he’d laid on you the past ten years. The paper trails were scarce, since he’d always contracted an off-the-books nurse when you got real bad. He’d threatened her to keep her quiet, and always got a different one.

As you got into the shower, you felt the water run over you. It was only lukewarm, since you needed a new hot water heater, but you weren’t going to bring it up to Jeff. You shivered as you watched the blood wash from your hair, suddenly bringing your attention to the cut on your temple where his toe had caught you just right. It wasn’t too bad, but head wounds bled a lot, you knew.

After you finished your five-minute shower, you got out and wrapped a towel around yourself. You took care of your dirty clothes right away, then went to your room to find some clean clothes. When you got dressed, you let your hair stay down, to cover the cut on your head, and you wore a long sleeve and pants despite the summer heat. You glanced at the clock - it was nearly 11:15. That meant you had an hour before he got home for lunch to check on you. Despite working a nearby construction job, he always came back to check on you, making it difficult to go anywhere or do anything without him knowing. You sighed, then decided to get lunch together for him.

.

When he arrived at home, you’d already made him lunch and cleaned the evidence from the night before. You ran the wash to get the blood out of your clothes and mopped the floor near the back door. He walked in, sitting down at the table without a word. You put the sandwich and chips in front of him, allowing him to eat while you did dishes from the night before. When he was finished, you took his plate and put a list in front of him. “I’m going shopping this afternoon. Can you write down what you’d like me to get, please?”

Despite your sweet voice, he huffed. “No, just get what you usually get.”

“Okay,” you whispered in reply, walking with the paper and pen into the kitchen to start writing down everything you were low on. “Can I use the debit card, or should I put it on my credit card?”

“Put it on your card. Not mine, bitch. I make the money. Go out and get a job if you want your own money.”

“Okay…” you mumbled again, deciding not to push it.

.

After his lunch hour was over, he got up and left without a word, allowing you to get everything together to go out. You had about thirty minutes to walk to the baseball field, which you knew would take you twenty. You decided, if you were coming back, to simply make your store trip quick.

You walked as fast as you could, your movements slowed by the pain in your body. You’d only eaten a small meal that morning, one egg and a piece of toast, not really hungry in the first place.

As you approached the baseball field, your adrenaline began to pump in a new way, one you hadn’t felt in a long time. There were people all over, seeing as there was a little league game going on. You breathed shakily, sitting up on the bleachers, away from everyone else, pulling your sleeves down over your wrists. You weren’t cold, seeing as the sun was still high in the sky, but you were shaking. The shade provided some shelter from the suns rays which made you look like a ghost because of how pale you were.

You scanned the park, paranoid he would somehow find you there. When a stranger walked up and sat near you, you nearly jumped from your seat. You looked to the man, who had sunglasses on, his hair greying. He was probably around your age, or a bit older, late 40’s. You bit your lip, looking down at the sidearm on his hip, then at the star clipped beside it. You let out a breath. “Are you Voight?” You asked quietly, your voice meek.

“I am. Who are you?”

“(Y/N),” you replied. “I need help.”

“With what?”

“Look, my husband, he-“ You choked up. Suddenly, it was hard to admit. You looked away as tears blurred your vision.

Voight let you have a minute before moving up to sit beside you. “What about him?”

It was now, or never. “He hurts me…” you mumbled, turning your head back at him as tears rolled down your cheeks. “I need help.”

“You ever make a report to the police?”

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” You huffed, frustrated.

“Look honey, you seem nice, but you should go to the district and make a report.”

You huffed. “Fuck off. I knew this was a mistake.” You got up, wincing in pain as you stumbled off of the bleachers. “Don’t be surprised if you find my body tonight, officer. One way or another.”

You walked away, shaking your head as tears streaked down your face, letting hair fall down to hide it. You heard footsteps behind you, making you stop and whip around, eyes wide. You thought maybe someone would come to put you in your place for talking to a cop, paranoia setting in.

When Voight approached, he put his hands up. “Easy, easy. I’ll help you.”

“What made you change your mind?” You wiped your face, looking up at him.

“Look at you,” he replied softly, pushing the hair behind your ear and taking your chin softly to maneuver your head, examining the cut on your temple. “What else has he done?”

You started to sob, Voight leading you to his car to sit and talk with you for a while. You explained the last ten years to him, which took nearly an hour. When you realized the time, you looked at him. “Please, are you going to help me? Because… if not, I need to get to the store. If-If I come back without groceries, he’ll have a reason beat me again.”

“Let me get you to the store, then,” he said softly. “I can help, but you’ve gotta give me a few days. I got some other things to deal with.”

“Okay…” you mumbled. “Please… don’t abandon me.”

He gently held your chin to look you in the eyes. “I won’t. I promise.”

When your glassy eyes met his deep, brown ones, you nearly got lost for a moment. He made you feel safe and warm, like hot chocolate on a cold Chicago night. You nodded slowly, reaching over to grab his free hand. “Thank you…”

.

Hank drove you to the store, then dropped you off at home just in time. Your husband arrived about ten minutes later. You put the groceries away quickly, starting on dinner. He brought home beer and some friends, like he did every Friday night. You sighed softly, but knew at least he wouldn’t abuse you too much that night until his friends left.

-

You held out hope, for days, that one day cop cars would just show up and take care of your husband. When a week passed by, you snuck out to see Maurice again, walking up to him around eleven at night this time.

“Hey baby girl, you come to pay?”

“I need to get a hold of Voight again.”

Maurice laughed, shaking his head. “You ain’t heard? Nah, baby, he got put in jail.”

You stopped, looking over Maurice again for any sign that he was lying. “No, don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t have no reason to lie, especially when you owe me.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “What did you do? Did you report him?”

“Hell no, I didn’t. Me and Voight, we had a special relationship, baby. Mutually beneficial. Now that he’s in jail, I gotta groom another dog cop into looking the other way.”

You frowned, looking at him intently. “Where is he? Statesville?”

“Yep. Got sent away for a long time, I heard.”

You couldn’t help the tears that had welled in your eyes. Voight had promised you. Was that even still a thing? You debated going to the nearest tall building to jump from, but you just wanted out. “I need another favor.”

“Baby, you ain’t paid for the last two I just gave you.”

“I’ll pay. I’m good for it. You just gotta distract somebody for me. Make sure he can’t come home for the day while I catch the bus over to statesville.”

“Are you insane? That’s a big ask, baby. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s (Y/N). I need you to keep my husband busy tomorrow. Jeff Greyson. Don’t let him come home for a few extra hours. He likes to drink, and he even used to shoot up when he was in high school. I’m assuming you’re drug runners. Dangle a free sample in front of his nose. I’ll pay you off after this.”

Maurice cocked an eyebrow. “What’s going on that you can’t tell him? You having an affair with Voight?”

You scoffed, looking at him intently. “My husband abuses me. I’m trying to get out. Voight promised he would help. Does he make good on promises?”

Maurice slowly nodded. “Every time.”

“Then I need to see him.”

“Fine, but my rate just doubled, baby.”

—

You finally got into Statesville and were sat at a booth with a phone on either side. Voight was brought in on the other side of the glass and sat down across from you. You picked up the phone, and so did he. “What the hell happened?”

“You knew I was a dirty cop when you met me.”

“Maurice says you’re a man of your word. Is that true, or should I go looking for a tall building for a solution?”

“You need to report this to somebody.”

“I can’t. The investigation could take weeks and if he finds out, he’ll kill me first. I’d rather go out after seeing the city skyline one last time.”

Hank sighed on the other end. “Can you make it to the 21st district?”

You frowned. “I just told you, I-“

“Trudy Platt. Remember that name. I’ll have her find you.”

“Platt… okay…”

“I make good on my promises, (Y/N). It’s just going to take a little longer.”

You sighed, looking back up into his eyes. He was genuine. “Alright…” you mumbled. “Fine… who is she?”

“Trudy Platt is a sergeant in the 21st district. I’ll have her find you and work your case, personally.”

“Okay.”

“Just hold out. Has he hurt you any more?”

“Every day, Hank. Every fucking day.”

Hank sighed a little, but nodded. “Trudy will take care of you.”

—

The next few days went by without event, your hope dwindling with every punch, hit, and cut he put on you. One night, as you sat at home, straddling his lap at his request, a knock came to the front door. You jumped at the sudden knock, looking down at him to see what he wanted to do. He pushed you off him and got up, opening the door. “Can I help you?”

A man looked at him through the door, which he had only opened enough for him to be seen. “Detective Dawson. This is Detective Willhite. Can we come in?”

“No,” Jeff growled. “Do you have a warrant?”

The two detectives looked at once another, then back to Jeff. “Look,” Dawson said. “Some neighbors have called in complaints about a girl screaming here multiple nights in the past few months.”

You furrowed your brow. If that were true, wouldn’t the cops have shown up already?

“I guess the neighbors don’t realize we can still be active even though we’re in our mid and late forties.”

Willhite scoffed. “Oh yeah? Can we talk to your wife? We need to corroborate your story.”

“Sure,” Jeff said, motioning you forward. “Here, (Y/N), tell them.”

“Actually,” Dawson said, looking at you. “Standard procedure is to separate the two of you for questioning. Ma’am, could you step outside?”

“Maybe you should talk to our lawyer, then,” Jeff said with a huff, putting a firm hand on your shoulder. “Have a nice night.”

“Let the girl speak. We can’t go anywhere until she tells us what’s going on,” Willhite replied.

You let out a shaky breath, looking at the two detectives, nodding. “Yeah, uh, it’s… it’s all good… we’re just…” You cleared your throat. “… Active.” You blinked three times rapidly, three times slower, then three more times rapidly, hoping they’d catch on to it.

Dawson and Willhite looked at one another again, then each drew their guns. “Sir, we’re going to need you to step outside with us,” Dawson said.

Jeff scoffed. “This is completely unjustified. You came to my house and forced me to talk, and now you’re going to arrest me? This is not based in law. You’re going to have a six figure lawsuit on your hands now. Both of you, individually.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dawson said as he pulled Jeff out of the house, making you yelp as his grasp pushed you into Willhite on accident.

She caught you, taking you out of the way and onto the grass. “Hey, it’s okay now. My name is Jules. That’s Antonio. Platt sent us.”

You started to cry, shaking. You were barely able to breathe because of your injuries as your body convulsed with sobs. Jules helped you lay down on the grass and breathe until the ambulance arrived. Jeff was taken away in a car, while you were taken to the hospital in an ambulance. Jules sat by your side the whole time as they checked you out. Turns out you had multiple broken ribs from a few weeks ago as well as several other ailments from the past ten years that never healed correctly. You cried until you couldn’t cry any more, slowly falling asleep as Jules held your hand, Antonio and Trudy Platt talking to one another in the hallway outside your room.

[fleeglefazbeagle]

Ok, so due to recent events, I will be turning off asks temporarily.

I just got an ask from @/wingedengineerfury and I didn't click "unblur" since I saw @chelledoggo 's PSA post.

Please stay safe for the love of God and don't ever interact with any of the trolls(scumbags), block them and report them for they send horrible stuff!

[din-miller]

We’re Stronger Together

Pairing: Reader + The Bad Batch (Platonic)

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: It was an unspoken rule; you don’t go on solo missions. But when Rex asked you to aid him in taking down a slave ring, you agreed. The Batch takes an issue with that. Especially when you came back smelling strongly of foul men leaving Hunter to struggle with his heightened senses. The only way to fix that is a giant bantha pile.

Warnings: set after S2, tech is alive, harm to children mentioned, slavery mentioned, non-consensual touching mentioned, (none of which are graphic), protective batch, no romance between reader and the batch, platonic cuddling, so much sibling-relationship content, bantha pile > puppy pile, keldable kisses, female reader

You can’t remember the last time you’ve gone on a solo mission or at least a mission where the Batch hadn’t been involved. You had joined them after Order 66 and wherever they went, you went and vice versa.

Inseparable, the lot of you.

Which is why you’re here, chewing your bottom lip nervously as you watch the argument unfold in front of you. Rex said something rational and Hunter glared, then Echo huffed at Hunter’s behaviour but made no move to step in to defend Rex who's three seconds away from throwing his hands up in frustration, “Look boys, I only need her for a couple days, a week max.”

“That’s not happening.”

Honestly, Rex should’ve seen this argument coming and prepared a better speech.

“Yeah, I kinda agree with Sarge. I don’t like it.” Wrecker rubbed the back of his head, looking a tad lost. He’s never been good at picking sides during arguments and you feel bad for him.

“It’s a simple mission, boys. She’ll be in my line of sight at all times.”

“Armed,” All eyes turned to Crosshair, whose head was turned away from them, seemingly unperturbed by the whole situation. When Rex went to speak, Crosshair sneered, “That wasn’t a question.”

“We might consider it once you tell us why you need her.” Echo said, addressing the eldest clone.

“The mission requires more of a…,” Rex trailed off, trying to find the right words that won’t get him shot, “Feminine touch.”

“Absolutely not,” Hunter pushed himself to stand between you and Rex, blocking the older clone’s view of you, “Find someone else.”

“I can do it!” Omega bravely offered, “I can be feminine.”

“No!” Came a chorus of shouts causing Omega to shrink in on herself before Wrecker pulled her into his side with an apology. Hunter ran a tired hand down his face, giving his own apology to the young girl.

“As much as I appreciate your concerns, it’s my decision.” You looked over at Tech for help. Out of all of them, he’ll be the one to back you up.

Tech nodded in your direction, stepping in to join the conversation, “While I don’t particularly agree with one of us being separated, I can see logic in Rex’s thinking-,”

Wreck sent him a look of disbelief, “How?!”

“-If the goal is to distract the target with a certain female attractiveness, I do believe she’s the best candidate for the role.”

“There was never any doubt about that,” Echo stated, “The issue is that we don’t split up. Any of us. Not after Mount Tantiss.”

Omega nodded in agreement, her mouth twisting down at the mention of Mount Tantiss, “Echo’s right. We stick together.”

Tech adjusted his goggles, avoiding eye contact, “As I said, I do not agree with her going with Rex by herself, but we can not stop her from choosing to aid in this mission. The best we can do is offer our support.”

“Thank you Tech. Look, I’ll take my viroblade with me,” You promised them, moving to Rex’s side, “I’ll be fine guys. I was on my own for years before I met you, I know how to handle a few scumbags.”

“You’re not on your own anymore,” Hunter reminded you, before letting out a defeated sigh, “You will be contacting us every chance you get, you’ll report any injuries to Tech or Echo; I don’t care if Rex’s crew has an all-star medic on board, you comm us.”

“Yes, Sarge. Anything else?”

“You’ll take my blade with you, it’s sharper than yours. You will be getting a crash course in disarming bombs with Wrecker before you leave and most importantly; you will be coming home.”

You look down at the kid who’s nodding along to Hunter’s words, a serious look plastered on her face. You feel a twinge of guilt settled in your chest, but from what Rex has told you about the mission you’re not backing down no matter how crestfallen Wrecker looks.

You attempt a reassuring smile, most likely failing as that guilt shows clear as day despite your best shot at playing it cool. You promised nonetheless, “I’ll be back before Wrecker’s able to pronounce ‘worcestershire’.”

“Hey!” Wrecker cried, but a bright smile took over his previous expression and that twinge inside your chest starts to fade away.

Truth be told, a part of you yearns for this mission. To stretch your feet, to use your muscles and brains outside of your normal mundane life on Pabu. To feel useful in a more powerful way. You also understand why your boys’ are so reluctant to let you leave. To do this mission when they’ve all turned Rex down time and time again.

Hunter’s thirst for battle quickly died out when he watched how Omega thrived in her new life. At the peace she is now able to have, away from bloodshed.

Wrecker’s able to use his strength to help the town folk. Lifting crates, furniture, bags of soil and sand. He’s also taken up construction. He’s able to burn energy without bloodshed.

Tech was never one for battle and after Mount Tantiss, he was more than willing to settle on Pabu. To accept Phee’s dinner invitation. Then the key to her place. One day you hope he’ll accept the ring Phee has tucked away. A loving marriage away from bloodshed.

Echo was the one who adjusted the hardest. Whenever Rex required his help on a mission Echo was always on the front line. But one day you watched him emerge from his room, eyes red and swollen. Another sleepless night and you know he’s done with all the bloodshed.

You don’t ask, you don’t have too. You were there, you remember all of it. You remember Echo’s disbelief over your comm as he said he found Tech. You remember running into the room, seeing Tech floating inside a tube, dead bodies scattered across the floor. You remember Echo’s hand laying flat over the glass that separated him from Tech. You remember the bloody handprint left behind when Echo turned to you.

Most of all you remember the scream that rattled the walls around you. You remember how Echo’s mouth parted, Crosshair’s name falling from his lips before he’s racing down the hallway, metal legs creaking at the strain he’s putting on them.

You remember the crying, the begging, that left Crosshair’s mouth, so broken and scared, as Dr. Hemlock held a blade in his hand and Omega’s still body on the medical table beneath him. You remember the smell of blood, how the red of it dripped onto the floor.

You remember the sound of a blaster fire, a body hitting the floor. You remember Echo desperately trying to hold Omega’s stomach together as he cauterised her skin knowing there’s no time for stitches or bacta patches.

You remember it all so kriffing vividly that the crate you had been moving falls from your grip, dropping loudly to the ships metal floor beneath you, the noise drowning out your gasp as the air around you thins and your lungs ache for steady breaths.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Your head snapped up in Rex’s direction, eyes widening when you spotted the clone trying to bypass Rex and enter the ship, “Crosshair?”

The sniper doesn’t acknowledge you. Instead his attention is solely on the older clone, “You’re sending her into a cantina full of powerful, greedy, vile men who would do anything to have her.”

Rex sighed, “Crosshair-,”

“I understand not wanting the others to be involved, they’re too protective. The second anyone touches her the mission would be ruined and dead bodies make things complicated.”

Rex gave another, deeper sigh, “Your skill sets would prove to be a huge asset to the mission, I’m aware and if I thought you were any different from the rest of them, I would have asked you. I know you Crosshair, you’d be the first to pull the trigger.”

Finally Crosshair’s eyes land in your direction, the subtle pinch of his brow letting you know that the panic that's choking you from the inside is written all over your face. He stared at you, knowingly, “Don’t do this. For your own sake, don’t.”

“The man we’re after is a slave trader. Young kids and helpless women,” You said, although you figured he’s aware of that already, “If you were in my shoes you’d do the same thing. For me, for Omega. Crosshair I need to do this.”

You moved to stand in front of him and you pulled his head down until your foreheads met, an action you’ve only done once before with him. Only this time he’s leaning in instead of pushing you away with a threat of you meeting the barrel of his rifle.

“Take care of the boys and Omega while I’m gone, yeah?”

“I’m not their kriffing babysitter.”

You chuckled and pulled back to meet his gaze, “Take care of yourself too.”

Although the mission only took three days, your body – your soul – is screaming for your family. For their arms around you, their voices reassuring you that you’re okay, that you’re home. That you’re safe.

So when the front door is the only thing that stands between you and them, a weight is lifted from your shoulders. A breath you hadn’t realised you’ve been holding leaves your lungs and you draw in a new one full of relief.

You punched in the house’s code and the green light blinked, lock unlocking. You smiled, opening the door and before you’re fully able to close it behind you, you’re being pushed back against it, Hunter’s face buried in the crook of your neck.

Not exactly the welcome home you’d imagined would be awaiting you.

You looked over at the other boys, hoping to get an explanation. You start with Echo but the clone just leaned back against the couch, a smile on his face. Beside him is Tech; the clone brought a finger up to tap the side of his nose.

Oh

Right. You probably reek of–

“Testosterone.” Hunter snarled, and you can feel the way his nose scrunched up at the smell of male hormones on your person.

“Not the welcoming home I expected,” You joked, trying to push Hunter away but the clone didn’t budge, “Come on I can’t smell that badly, I had a shower on Rex’s ship. Seriously Hunter, at least let me enter the house.”

Hunter finally pulled back, eyes still locked in on the flesh on your neck. You try not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze, or the smug looks from the others. Hunter tilted your head and you're quick to give him access to the other side of your neck despite your earlier protest. He spared no time diving in, head jerking back instantly, nostrils flailing and he growled, “They touched you.”

The smug look on Echo’s face disappeared instantly and he stepped forward, eyes narrowed in on the back of Hunter’s head like he can see the skin where you had been touched through the clone’s skull.

Hunter pressed you back farther against the door, voice demanding as he asked, “Where else?”

“Hunter-,“

“I won’t ask again.”

The sound of tiny feet racing down the hallway saved you from having to answer, from having to admit that they were right. That you weren’t strong enough for the mission. Not without them. Admitting that would make the phantom feeling of hands on your body too real.

You pushed Hunter away and caught the girl just in time, your name falling from her lips as giggles filled the air when you tickled her side. Behind her Wrecker smiled at you, welcoming you home.

“You’re back! I want to hear all about the mission!” Omega said, jumping out of your arms when you tap on her back. She’s grown so much in the last few years and you’re too exhausted to hold her weight, “Sorry, I’m just excited you’re back home. Are you hurt?”

You’re able to give her a quick shake of your head before that phantom touch across your skin is back and you can’t hide the rise of goosebumps on your arms. Not from Hunter at least. The man studies your body language, breathing in the scent of foul men that lingers on your skin, even after using Rex’s refresher to shower.

“Omega, I want every blanket and pillow in this house brought out here,” Hunter turned to address the biggest clone, “Wrecker, clear all the furniture out of the living room.”

“Oh, you betcha!” Wrecker cheered with a grin, “We haven’t had a good ol’ bantha pile in ages!”

“Bantha pile?” You questioned as you watched the two follow Hunter’s orders.

“Yes, it is when a group of people all sleep and/or cuddle together. It was a way for Hunter to memorise our scents growing up. To help calm him,” Tech informed you, “It’s been awhile since we’ve had one, but given that Hunter is indeed struggling with you not smelling like us, the bantha pile is warranted. I’d even say necessary.”

You nodded. It makes a certain amount of sense but you’re not entirely sure it is warranted. To your knowledge they didn’t do this when Crosshair came back, when Tech was found or when Omega healed from her injuries at the hands of Dr. Hemlock. Or maybe they did and you weren’t there, that they didn’t find it necessary to include you.

No, it’s best not to go down that path. You’re here, your boys are crowded around you as you all await for Omega to return and that’s all that matters.

But Tech has always been able to read you and he awkwardly bumped his shoulder against yours, voice hushed, “You’re part of our alitt. You and Echo were dealing with Sid when Hunter and Wrecker welcomed Crosshair, Omega and myself home. We tried waiting for you but Hunter was struggling. It wasn’t an easy call but it was necessary to proceed without you and Echo.”

You brushed a hand over Tech’s and sent him a smile, “I understand, truly. I shouldn’t have questioned my place with you guys.”

“We won’t allow that to happen ever again, ner vod.” He promised and you believe him.

“I got everything!” Omega announced, bouncing back into the room, her voice muffled behind the mountain of fabric balanced in her arms, which Hunter quickly relieved her of. The young clone looked over at Echo, “I got your heated blanket too. I wasn’t sure if our body heat will be enough to keep you warm through the night. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“I…” Echo blinked, accepting his blanket as he fumbled for words. No matter how long you all have known Omega, the smaller clone always finds ways of surprising her family with her never-ending kindness. Echo cleared his throat, “Thank you, Omega.”

She beamed up at him, brushing off his thanks as she grabbed a handful of pillows to scatter around the living room. Wrecker and Hunter followed behind her with blankets. Eventually the room was approved for a bantha pile by Wrecker’s standards and six bodies started to settle in for the night.

With Hunter against your left side, head buried in your neck, his lips gazing the skin over your pulse point and Wrecker snuggled behind him, Echo moved to claim his spot on your other side as Tech sat cross legged by your lower right leg and Omega’s balanced on your chest leaving just Crosshair left to pick his spot.

“There’s still room.” You pointed out to him, silently hoping he’ll join.

Crosshair looked down at the pile, disgust written all over his face, “Not happening.”

“C’mon brother,” Wrecker patted the empty spot behind him, “You know you want to.”

The sniper may be rough around the edges but he’s not immune to his brothers’ pleas. He’ll cave, you know so.

“Not in the slightest. I’d rather eat glass than be sandwiched between you all.”

“Fine, but you’ll regret it.” Wrecker shrugged, snuggling closer into Hunter’s side, his large arm thrown over the smaller body to rest on your arm.

Crosshair rolled his eyes, “Doubt it.”

Tech glanced up from his datapad, “I have informed Phee that I will be staying another night here,” He looked at you, “She is pleased that you have returned unharmed and has invited you for dinner tomorrow if that is to your liking.”

“Tell her there’s no other place I’d rather be.”

He nodded, “I will inform her immediately, she will be happy to hear so.”

Omega frowned, rifling through the blankets, “Where’s Lula?”

Wrecker’s head shot up, alarmed and you glanced around until you spotted her by the hallway entrance. You pointed Omega to the toy, “You must have dropped her.”

Omega looked over at her brother, eyes wide and childlike, “Crosshair? Can you get her?”

The clone looked at her, then the pile of blankets and pillows that were basically drowning her small frame, before blowing out an annoyed sigh, but he went and got the toy anyway. He carelessly threw it in her direction, which earned a cry of protest from Wrecker. Crosshair rolled his eyes in response before crouching down beside Echo, moving his blanket aside.

The former ARC Trooper’s body stiffened when a pair of hands met his pelvic. Then he flinched away from Crosshair’s touch when the clones fingers found the clasps of his prosthetic legs. You watched slightly puzzled at what was happening.

Crosshair’s fingers froze for a fleeting second before he scowled down at Echo, “Relax Reg, if I have to suffer sleeping here tonight I’m at least going to make sure my nuts stay intact.”

A puff of air met your skin as Hunter grunted, “Language Crosshair, the kids here.”

Omega giggled as she settled comfortably on your chest, “I’m not a kid, Hunter.”

Beside you, Echo flicked his youngest brother’s arm, “I don’t move in my sleep.”

Wrecker let out an loud laugh, “Ha, good one Echo!”

“You could sleep on the other side of the bantha pile,” Echo cocked his head over to where Wrecker is, “Snuggle up behind Wrecker. He doesn’t sweat that much.”

“I’d rather not. Now are you going to let me continue?” Crosshair gestured to the prosthetics.

Echo nodded, moving to make it easier for his brother to reach the clasps, “You better not steal my blanket throughout the night.”

“What are you going to do? Chase me?” Crosshair jeered, but his tone held no malice behind it and Echo for his part just playfully shoved the sniper back until his ass met the floor. Beside you Hunter mumbled something incomprehensible into the crook of your neck while Wrecker and Omega laughed as Crosshair scowled up at them.

Once the prosthetics were removed, Crosshair huddled underneath Echo’s heated blanket with him, keeping enough distance from the clone for it not to be weird. Crosshair’s words, not Echo’s. The latter couldn’t care less, especially when the added warmth helped him sleep soundly.

With them both settled in for the night Tech was able to finally curl himself against your thigh, directly underneath Echo, giving the fact that without the clone’s prosthetics there’s now room for Tech to lie down and be close to you.

“This is… nice.” You said, pulling Echo in closer to your body when he struggled to do so himself without use of his prosthetic legs. His prosthetic arm had been taken off too. Most likely so you don’t get hit by it.

“Aw, yeah it is!” Wrecker’s usual loudness is muffled by Hunter’s shirt and the older clone chuckled at the rough vibration that spread across his back.

Omega propped herself up to rest her head in her hands, her elbows pressing against your chest and you hid the wince when her pointed appendages dug into your sternum.

Her eyes twinkled as they met yours, “We’ve missed you,” She exclaimed, the twinkle in her eyes grew brighter, “Tech barely left the house, Phee brought over food for us but we ended up giving it to the shelter ‘cause Echo went bananas and made enough food for the entire village! And Wrecker built a giant shed in a day! The Unstoppable Machine they called him. Oh and Crosshair slept at the gun range every night. Echo had to bring him food and a pillow and blanket-,”

You blew out a disappointed sigh. Leave it to Crosshair to do the exact opposite of what you said. Taking care of yourself does not equal three nights at the gun range. Crosshair hid his head in Echo’s shoulder shielding himself away from your scowl.

“Hunter wouldn’t leave my side,” Omega continued, “I wasn’t even allowed to sleep over at the Hazards. It’s okay though. Truthfully, I didn’t feel like sleeping away from home anyways.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. You knew they didn’t want you to go but you never really knew how much pain you’re absent brought the six of them.

“I’m so sorry,” You whispered into the silence of the room, “I’m here now and I’m not leaving ever again, I promise.”

Omega held out her hand, little finger up, “Pinky promise?”

You locked your smallest finger around hers and brought them both up to your lips, pressing a delicate kiss to her skin, “To the brightest stars and back.”

Omega was the first to fall asleep, followed quickly by Echo; the warmth of his blanket and your body heat lulled him into a peaceful slumber. Wrecker was next, his snores unnaturally quiet for a man his size. Small blessings, truly.

Tech’s head is pillowed on your thigh, his datapad loosely held in his hand, conversation with Phee most likely cut short by his sleep. Out of all your boys your heart is warmed by him the most. He’s the only one who doesn’t live here, he’s the only one who has spent four nights away from their partner. He’s never once complained about it and you know neither has Phee; she’d let Tech spend a thousand more nights here if that’s what he needs.

Crosshair and Hunter were the last to drift off, their bodies on high alert, tracking any movement that could possibly take you away from them. Crosshair once said that nothing is ever too good to be true, but like most things the sniper’s believed, he’s wrong. Because you’re here for good, and that’s true.

You felt a nudge against your right side and you rolled your eyes fully expecting to get an ear full of Tech’s latest discoveries during your absence but instead you're met with an unreadable expression as Crosshair stared at you.

He doesn’t say anything and he looks more pissed off than before. It’s late and you're tired, physically and emotionally and the last thing you want is an angry clone glaring at you through the night.

“This wasn’t my idea,” You reminded him, tone a little rougher than it probably should be, “But I’m not going to have you ruin it because I need this. I might have only been gone for three days but I was alone for each one and you were here, with the boys’ and Omega.”

He’s silent, eyes sharp almost like he’s studying you. When he does speak it sounds like it’s through gritted teeth, “Where else?”

And, oh

You had been expecting that question from Hunter, maybe even Echo, but not him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against your pillow. Whenever the gentleman got too bold, you were able to direct their attention somewhere other than your body… but sometimes you just weren’t fast enough.

“You were right, the others wouldn’t have been able to sit and watch,” You shifted your eyes back to the sniper, “The man grabbed me, pulled me into his lap and sometimes when I close my eyes, I can feel his breath against my skin and I hate it.”

The arms locked around you tighten, Hunter's head unburing itself from your neck, his breathing falling to the softest puffs against your skin. You honestly should have known that he wouldn’t fully be asleep.

You sighed, pulling Omega closer to your chest, needing to feel her heartbeat, letting it ground you, “Rex was immediately lifting me off of him and using his body as a shield, keeping me out of the man’s sight. What was supposed to be a stealth mission turned into a full blown blaster fight. What was it you said Crosshair? ‘Dead bodies make things complicated’?”

“Sometimes complicated is necessary for survival,” Crosshair said, “It may have not gone down the way you wanted it to, but tonight there are people finding their freedom from slavery and that’s because there are good people out there willing to fight for them. People like you.”

Your throat constricted at his words and you felt the beginning of tears build up, you do your best to blink them away before they get a chance to escape.

“You’re not leaving us again, right?” Hunter’s voice was rough, and it was clear from the way he asked the question that there was only one acceptable answer.

“No, never again,” You replied, before asking your own question, “Do I smell better now?”

Hunter made a show of taking in a deep breath, pausing for a second before giving a slow nod, “You smell like my aftershave, Echo’s mechanical oil for his prosthetics, Omega’s shampoo, Phee’s perfume that lingers on Tech’s clothes and the chemical ingredients in Tech’s eye drops.”

“Wrecker and Crosshair?”

“By the morning you’ll smell like them too. I promise.”

“Good, but in case I don’t; I’m not doing anything tomorrow night.”

Crosshair pressed his front flushed against Echo’s back and threw his arm over his brother's body to rest on top of Omega’s back, “If we must, I'm making Wrecker bring the mattresses down here. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

You laced your fingers with his across Omega’s body, “Deal.”

A/N: I’ve had one rule when it comes to tbb. I don’t write for Crosshair – He’s a hard character to write – So how the heck did I manage to include him in 80% of this fic?! I’m not sure I was able to capture his personality completely but I hope I did him justice. (runs and hides)

[sickofthis666]

Theres a blog called @queenalyssasblog that posts disgusting content and has an alarming amount of notes. I'm trying to spread word so we can mass report this scumbag. Any help with spreading word can hopefully deplatform him

Ah yeah I know em, already reported and blocked. Unfortunately I've stumbled upon dozens blogs that share his rape fantasies 😬

[lillian321]

Some of zionist scumbags to block and report. Good day y'all.

[rubyclover]

Dumb PSA:

‘Even though the Shadowvanilla tag means SM tops I don’t see that in the tags. Don’t get me wrong, I fav good content, I just can’t see SM bottoming. Sorry sorry, I’m uneducated 😂.’ - Me

But content haters, take note. If you don’t see what you want in a fandom - make it yourself! ❤️ It’s fun! Don’t just build up your frustration and take it out on the FREE ART AND WRITING the entire fandom makes. Your hate only brings us all together.

Haters constantly get run out of the Shadow Milk x Pure Vanilla tag so religiously you’d think we were on FFXIV.

Please, for the love of your own mental health, do not post how much you HATE a pairing in the pairing’s tag just to try and feel better. The only reason why I’m posting my non-complaint is for this PSA. I would never do that otherwise, but like other fans I saw truly disgusting behavior first thing in the morning and I have no more patience.

Creators will push back and you will be even more miserable with an internet fight added on top. There is no winning your selfish argument on Tumblr. The only reason why you can say such vitriolic garbage on Twitter and TicTok is because the people running those sights are scumbags. I know this personally because I live near their Cali headquarters and a number of my coworkers got hired there.

You are welcome in the Shadowvanilla tag just don’t post hatred, don’t harass creators.

This is what you can do instead:

+ Create what you want to see in the fandom no matter how bad you think your art/writing/voiceover is.

Artists explore all facets of a fandom and if you give them ideas they’ll gladly dive into the deep end. Direct messaging crap like ‘kys’ does nothing expect earn a block and a dozen reports.

+ Commission the content you want.

Ask if a writer/artist’s willing to create what you want. They don’t have to be part of the fandom already, maybe they don’t even know CRK exists? But the point is you can get what you want peacefully.

+ Block the tags you don’t like.

Still hate Shadowvanilla with the burning passion of a thousand suns? Let Tumblr’s system filter out that content as buggy as it is. This will be hard for people who truly believe the pairing glorifies abuser x victim - and that’s a whole ass argument - but it’s the only other option for you that I can think of.

We fans are not going away. A fandom never truly dies. You’ll feel better if you look at your anger and come to terms with it.

Haters, I wish you luck in feeling better and getting along with everyone. Do I believe I have changed a single one of your minds with this measly post? No. But this will live rent free in your head for a while!

Sincerely,

Ruby Clover (Cookie)

*and now I go back to sleep. no beta we die like Elder Fairy Cookie. gn.

[your-guardian-angels]

Announcement to you all

The criminal predators are watching this blog and those who like share or follow us are being targeted also, you follow and share at risk of being harassed by them but you can block their anons and if they target you directly, screen shot it and send it to us and you can report them for harassment. you can support us in silence if you wish and that may be for the best, especially if you are a minor. Feel free to be brave about it if you wish, the only people you will upset are the criminal pedos. However, support in silence and when they DM you, screen shot and report. We have made tremendous progress but still need your help so please do what you can

It shows how deep these scumbags are feeling the upcoming doom and how they operate on this site and it shows how badly good people need to step up and expose every damn one of these future inmates.

[kropotkindersurprise]

Is there a tipline for submitting zionist blogs for mass report Monday because I’ve found a good handful of them looking through the notes of posts by Zionists to block

You can always mention those in a reply to or reblog of the weekly post, of course, and other people will probably see it. For the weekly post we'll try to stick to blogs that have a big reach in their respective shitty communities, and not just random fascists with a handful of followers. We'll also probably rotate which type of scumbag is featured each week, so next monday will most likely be a MAGA guy, or a terf, or a neonazi. I decided to try this thing just a couple hours ago so the structure of it isn't set in stone, lemme know if you've got some idea for improvement in the coming weeks. If you've got a suggestion for a harmful blog to report in the coming weeks you can message it to me, ideally with a link to a post that's clearly against the Tumblr ToS, and a lil sentence about why theyre specifically harmful and not just a random shithead and we'll make a list for future mondays.

[hexergraf]

SCAMMERS ALERT

Please spread this, please reblog if you see it.

If you get a message or see a reblog going around asking for donations to get their family out of Palestine, CHECK THE CREDENTIALS.

I am getting messages almost daily asking for these. They are all scams. Asking for money sent directly to Paypal rather than a GoFundMe or an accredited charity is a huge red flag. The name on the Paypal is almost always Kenyan.

These people are scumbags trying to profit off of a genocide. They are trying to appeal to your good nature to scam you out of money. It will not help anyone in Palestine. DO NOT FALL FOR IT, DO NOT REBLOG THEIR POSTS.

There are loads of charities you can donate to that will help Palestinian families. They won't reach out to you on Tumblr. Any message sent is going to be a scam. Please spread this awareness, I am sick of seeing this and Tumblr's staff won't do anything about it. Report them as spam, since scam is not an option, block, and be safe.

[hassibah]

It really shouldn't have taken this long to see a defense of Sarah in Canadian media after so many articles were written slandering her in the last two weeks. This was only published yesterday, the same day Sarah tweeted that her and her staff will be closing their office and working remotely due to the threats received.

So many supposed progressives that sat back and let her be attacked and harrassed including NDP leadership are responsible for this as well as the scumbags attacking her:

That standing up for Palestinians invites pushback is no secret. A report by Independent Jewish Voices Canada last October researching the repression faced by academics, students and Palestine solidarity activists, described the chilling effect of speaking up for Palestinian rights in the country. Journalists have spoken out about being silenced on this issue. Teachers have revealed a culture of fear keeping them from tackling Palestinian issues through an anti-oppression lens.

Just last week, an Ontario doctor was suspended from a Richmond Hill hospital and doxed after he posted views in support of Palestine on social media.

Before this latest Hamas attack, supporting Palestinians was too often falsely equated with antisemitism. Now it is also being equated to supporting terrorism.

The right-wing Israeli lobby group B’nai Brith asked the Halton school board to ban “clothing, signs, banners and flags that glorify Palestinian terror groups …” I can see not wanting a Hamas flag, but what is this overly broad category of “clothing” that the B’nai Brith now seeks to ban? Kuffiyehs worn by civilians?

After the Egyptian swimmer Abdelrahman Sameh dedicated his World Cup Gold medal to Palestinians this week, the Israel Swimming Association urged World Aquatics — swimming’s governing body — to “take action against swimmers who support terrorism.”

In the same vein, Doug Ford, the man who once needed to invoke his Jewish doctor, dentist and lawyer to fend off criticisms of antisemitism, first accused Jama of antisemitism. Then he wildly blamed the NDP for not holding Jama accountable for “publicly supporting the rape and murder of innocent Jewish people.”

That is an overreach by any stretch. The premier and his party, which desperately needs a distraction from the criminal investigation into the Greenbelt land swap, then sought to censure Jama, which would block her from asking questions of Ford in the legislature.

This is rank political opportunism that serves to quash dissent.

Jama’s threat to sue Ford represents the drawing of a line in the sand, a gauntlet thrown down and a sentiment that says: “Enough.”

[menacinmasochist]

Hi if it's okay can I please ask for a yandere Carla with Yui wants to be with Carla but is worried that the sakamaki brothers and the makami brothers will get in the way with her happiness with Carla so she ends up getting a hold of Subaru's knife and killing them off one by one and Carla soon finds her the wax figure room in the

Sakamaki house in a bloody wedding dress

Tending to her wounds that the makami brothers and the sakamaki brothers inflicted on her

And a smut thick please

My small Aesthetic: bloody bride Yui /yandere Yui

Carla's POV:

"Brother, I have located her, she's in the Sakamaki Manor but the situation is rather strange, I think we should hurry on over there." Shin reported. It was still dusk, we believe those vampire scum took her during the day time. Nonetheless, Shin duly located her ensuring that we will have to punish all of Heinz's offspring and fake offspring as well. Those Mukami wretches were able to function normally in daylight hours, I do believe they were responsible for abducting her, would not be the first time they did this, but it will be the last time, I will assure that. We swiftly make our way to this disgusting pile of shit known as the sakamaki manor, it smelled so awful I thought I was going to cut my nose off. But among all this filthiness I could sense her. She smelled like lilac and warmth, it caused me to rush over to her scent. Going through the mansion I have not seen any of Heinz's scumbag sons, it was strange, I could smell them but so far they were nowhere to be found...

I smell her down a dark hallway, it led to a room filled with what appeared to be women at first, but after confirming with Shin they were indeed life size dolls, they must have been the previous brides or something. They have an energy to them that is uncanny. At the center of all the dolls, there she stood, in a white dress it appeared to be a wedding dress, blood stained this dress, it appeared rather fresh. "You've arrived my love.." she said, turning slowly her eyes were widened and a crazed smile appeared on her face, she had blood staining her hair. I remain silent, but I embrace her. "Ah, I'm sorry I must smell like them..I know how much you hate their scent.." she says, then lets out a giggle. "It was hard, but I did it, I killed them all.." I look at her, she looked like she was losing her mind, I take her bloodied hand and kiss it. "I did not want you to dirty yourself for me" I tell her then cup her cheek and kiss her lips, she melts into this kiss, lightly moaning, human women who react this way to intimate kissing indicate their love and lust, it was at a high for her. I never imagined she of all people would become like this, but I can comprehend that being amongst us she could develop such detrimental behavior. I am at fault here.

I pull away from our kissing, the stench of the decaying Sakamaki corpses were too much for me to endure right now. “Let’s go back now” I tell her, she smiles and nods, as we leave through the front gates another obstacle gets in the way. These second half breed scums. Heinz’s former human pets. His great beast Yuma was blocking the way. “Where do you think you’re going with Sow?” He asked then his eyes scanned her, “who’s blood is that..?!” He questions, I do not speak to low grade species so I do not say anything. But she began laughing hysterically “say…Yuma, didn’t you always want to reconcile with Shu..? I haven’t turned his body into ashes maybe you still have a chance.” She says, something in this great beast snaps and he launches himself towards her, i swiftly glide my hand through his heart, and snatch it out crushing it within my grasp, the disgusting blood tainted my hands. I threw it down and stepped on it. His body fell limb and with a finger snap his body was set a blaze, not for the first time I hear. This pathetic being survived a fire as a human, he should’ve stayed dead.

“What the fuck?!?” That annoying blonde pretty boy began to yell, revealing his hiding location along with the rest of his pseudo brothers. They tried to cease the fire of their burning brother but it is impossible to tamper with first blood magic. The horror on their faces, it was bringing back life to me. “You really choose this psychopath over us?!” The blonde let out again, I can never remember his name. “Yes Kou..he is the love of my life..I choose him” she says, this brings me a feeling I only get next to her, happiness. I noticed she had a silver dagger and I took it from her hands. “Shin, take them all and throw them in our dungeon” I tell him, I clench the dagger in my hand, I could kill them quickly but torturing them would be more sufficient.

We return to the manor, I bring her down with me to the dungeon and there we engage in much torture, I used the silver dagger to slice off the fingers of Mukami Ruki, he tried his best to suppress his pain, I forced the sickly scared one to eat his brother's fingers, I cut off the blondes tongue. It was very much pleasant torturing them, remembering what they did to her body, and her mind enraged me…I had an idea, I grabbed her and began kissing her passionately in front of them, of course she kissed back matching my pace. I tore off the bloodied dress and revealed her nude body, from the other side of the dungeon bars, all 3 of them looks with their eyes widened. I spread her legs apart and push her face into the bars, then begin ramming myself into her. She cried out my name and begged me to go harder, she was reaching back to me, and I grabbed her arms we were in sync going at my pace, with each thrust she howled, I change our positions and she is now riding me, the way she swayed her hips onto me, it felt electrifying. I could see the look of pain in their faces, she was all mine and they couldn’t do anything about it, the look of defeat and anguish on their ugly scum faces gave me so much energy I could make love to her all night long.