#prompt forcibly stripped

[isabel3710]

“Forcibly Stripper” for the Bad Things Happen Bingo

Sorry if this one makes anyone uncomfortable.

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Fandom: Gravity Falls

Prompt: Forcibly Stripped

Trigger Warnings: creepy/possessive behavior

Masterlist

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Dipper scrambled to his feet and stared at the women, she had dyed blond hair and looked to be in her late 40s and wore a lot of makeup. Probably to make herself seem younger. She wore a slimming body suit and had long, manicured nails. 

Dipper got an uneasy feeling. 

The woman smirked, “Well, aren’t you a good looking boy.”

“Who are you?” Dipper wrapped his arms around his torso. 

“I’m Missy, but you can call me Mistress.” Missy stepped towards him and Dipper took a step back. 

“Um yeah… I’m not doing that.”

“Oooh. Playing hard to get” Missy kept walking towards him and whispered “I like it.” 

Somehow the women managed to corral him into the center of the room near the chair and Dipper pressed himself against the back. Missy looked him up and down like he was a piece of meat and walked right up to him. 

Dipper tried to hosit himself over the back of the chair and escape but she placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down. She ran her hands down his chest. 

“Please don’t touch me.” Dipper said “who are you anyways?”

Missy smirked, “I’m here to get you ready.”

“For what?”

“Oh don’t you worry about that.” Missy winked and taped his nose. Dipper pushed her away and she laughed.“Feisty, I like that. You’re going to be a fun one.”

Dipper’s heart pounded in his ears; he wanted to leave, to get away but he was stuck. “Look… I don’t want any trouble… This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh sweetheart” the way Missy said the pet name made a shiver run down his spine. “You are exactly where you are supposed to be.” 

Dipper’s mind raced, trying to think of a way out of the situation. He scanned the room for any escape routes but the door was blocked by two large men. He was trapped.

Missy smiled like a predator who had caught their prey. “Strip for me.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me. Now strip.” She ordered. 

“I’m not going to do that!” He protested. 

Missy gave a nod to the guards and they walked right up to him, one of them grabbed him around the weist from behind and lifted him into the air. Dipper kicked and struggled but the other guard grabbed one of his legs and pulled off his shoe and sock before repeating the action with his other foot. 

“Put me down!” 

“I have to get those clothes off of you somehow” Missy said “I want to get a good look at you.”

“I-I’ll do it.” Dipper stammered, not wanting to be humiliated more than he already was. 

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

Missy waved a hand and the guard set him back on his feet and went back to their post, the women looked at him expectantly and with shaking hands Dipper pulled off his shirt. He avoided eye contact and he undressed, but could feel Missy’s hungry gaze on him. 

Soon he stood in front of her, eyes downcast, in nothing but his boxers. “When I said strip.” Missy said “I meant strip.” 

Dipper’s eyes widdened when he realized what she wanted but obeyed nonetheless. Missy circled him, looking him over, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel her hands on him. 

“I was right,” she stroked his back, “you are very pretty.” 

“What are you going to do to me?” Dipper asked, his voice a bit faint. 

Missy laughed, “don’t worry dear, I’m not going to do anything.” 

Dipper opened his eyes to see her leave the room, one of the guards gathered up his clothes and then they left too. Locking the door behind them. Dipper wrapped his arms around himself and walked around the room, trying to find a way out. 

There was nothing, there were no windows or vents and the door was locked. The chair was bolted to the floor. Dipper crouched in the corner and shivered, trying to cover as much of himself as he could.

It wasn’t long before the door opened and Missy returned with the guards. She held what looked like some folded black cloth. “Here you are, doll” she handed him the cloth. “Put this on.”

Dipper unfolded it, worried about what it was. It was a black jumpsuit. He didn’t hesitate to pull it on, not wanting to be exposed any longer. Missy watched as he dressed, grinning. As soon as he was done the guards grabbed him and forced him down into the chair and used the leather straps to bind his wrists to the arms of the chair.

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Author's Note:

I have never written a character like Missy before and I think I did well but harder than I originally intended. Though I really wanted to show what kind of character she is.

PKRFN FROODU

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Tag List:

@badthingshappenbingo

[rizzoto-whump]

@badthingshappenbingo​ - Forcibly Stripped

@whumptember​ day 9 - “I don’t want to do this anymore.“

(And this prompt by: @dainluvr​ )

TW: Nsfwhump, bruises, fade to black noncon, noncon touch, creepy and multiple whumpers

Their laughter grew louder when they realized who was coming.

"Is that, Colonel Zhang? Colonel James Zhang? Our commander?" And a bunch of drunken Captains enticed him to join them. Then proceed to give touches where they didn't need to be.

The clothes felt so skimpy and James was moving uncomfortably, he tried to keep the hand away, but another hand was about to land. Pinching, squeezing and slapping.

"I didn't know your body was this sexy, sweetie. Smile for us!"

"Colonel! Your ass is so thicc, yeah!"

"Are you tight?"

The Colonel's ears were burning hot, an irritated James pounded the table with a tray. "I don't want to do this anymore!"

He thought his voice was bold and loud, but all that came out was just a weak voice that was on the verge of crying. They laughed again, one of them giving a stupid idea.

"Let's strip him."

Ah! Of course James lost against 5 people who continued to grope and pull his clothes until they looked torn. There was no more cloth over him now, and the savage glances were really disgusting. The crying was unbearable anymore, James tried to cover his naked body.

Someone pressed him from behind while biting James' neck. Something warm sensed in his ass. "Can we use him, Ron?"

The half-drunk Ronald nodded in agreement. "But you have to pay."

[bijoumikhawal]

I mentioned this in the tags of a post the other day, but since NK is high profile and getting a lot of videos shared, and I saw someone today decry a short speech one of their rabbis gave as "extremist", I guess I'll make a post too

Neturei Karta is a Litvish Ultra-Orthodox/Haredi antizionist group. In my experience, they are the most high profile antizionist group that ties that stance to their religious practice within Judaism, but they are not the only group (the Satmar are also generally antizionist, and they're a larger group, but they don't like NK).

As I mentioned yesterday, there was an incident with Iran- one of two, actually, but this one gets brought up more- where NK sent speakers to a conference specifically for the purposes of defending the existence of the Holocaust, as several Holocaust deniers were in attendance. The speaker specifically chosen had his grandparents die in the Holocaust. However, he also was blunt in stating his opinion that Zionists used the Holocaust to oppress others, Zionists had been collaborators and thwarted efforts to save Jewish lives. This prompted the Chief Ashkenazi Rabbi to call for their excommunication, essentially, and for the Satmar and broader Haredi movement to tell people to stay away from them. These remarks are complicated; many incidents one could classify as collaboration were Zionists trying to move Jews out of Europe, to save lives. However, when the speaker said the third statement, I'm fairly certain he was genuinely expressing his own intergenerational trauma. Early Zionists did indeed, have a fair amount of animosity towards Orthodox Jews. At one point Theodore Herzl (a founder of the modern Zionist movement) did express the opinion that Jews should convert en masse to Christianity, and the feeling was that the Orthodox who refused should be left to their fate. This accusation is a response to a very real tension among Jews that existed at the time. And the collaborationism was not always about saving lives; the Lehi gang, which committed the Deir Yassin massacre, sought out an alliance with the Nazis on several occasions, and expressed a desire for a totalitarian nationalist state.

Another incident was one where NK met with heads of state in early 2006, particularly Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, after criticizing other Jews for referring to remarks he made as antisemitic, and did an interview with Iranian press where they stated the Holocaust was used as a political tool by Zionists, that Zionism is "not Jewish, but political", and that not all Jews are Zionists. They also clearly stated that when they say they are not Zionists, they do not mean withdrawal to 67 borders, but a full dissolution of state, where Jews still can live with Palestinians. Later on in 2006, Ahmadinejad made comments about the reality of the Holocaust that prompted Haroun Yashayaei, one of the most prominent members of the Iranian Jewish community, to publicly speak put against him (and no, he didn't get arrested over that. He actually is also a movie producer and got an award in 2008).

It should be noted that in West Asia and North Africa, Iran is one of only a few countries that still has a significant Jewish population. The others are Turkey (14,500), Azerbaijan (7,200), Morocco (2,100), and Tunisia (1,000). For those unaware, this is significant because during the 1920s and 30s, many colonial governments stripped WANA Jews of citizenship, and in the 40s-60s, many post colonial WANA countries forcibly expelled local Jews. As a result, the centuries long presence of Jews in countries such as Egypt or Syria is down a hundred or fewer individuals in many cases. Ideologically, I do not support Iran's government because it's a theocratic state that treats Kurds like shit, but all of NK's interactions with Iran must be contextualized in light of this. This is not me using WANA Jews as a rhetorical device either: my paternal country, Egypt, which I wish I could so much as visit, is such a country. The 2016 Iranian census puts the country's Jewish population at 9,826. That's a number that I would weep to see reported in Egypt, and the second highest of any West Asia or North African country.

Personally while I hold no serious ideological disagreement with NK over antizionism, I do not wholly support them for other reasons (gender/sexuality politics reasons primarily). I bring up these incidents with Iran because in the past I've seen people claim they are Holocaust deniers, or that they think Jewish people brought the Holocaust on themselves. I have never seen a NK member say ANYTHING of that sort, and the idea that Jews bring antisemitism in any form on themselves is in fact an actual belief Herzl held. The closest I've heard is when NK distributed leaflets after a Chabad was attacked in Mumbai where they criticized Chabad for being in bed with Zionists. I'll be linking some articles in the replies of this post about this, including the text of the actual speech given at the Tehran conference so it can be read in full.

[firstkanaphans]

A Soft Place to Land

[A SandRay deleted scene from Only Friends, episode 1]

Sand looked over at the boy who had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the middle of the bathroom floor and sighed. What the hell had he gotten himself into now?

Ray was a mess—and not the artfully tousled, slightly tipsy mess he was used to bringing home from the bar. No, Ray was an actual mess. The type that would benefit from a stint in rehab and a therapist that wasn’t attracted to men. Sand couldn’t believe the boy had been planning to drive. Did he have a fucking death wish? But then again, most people who drowned their sorrows in alcohol usually did and who was Sand to judge? Sometimes the world was cruel to rich people, too.

He looked around the room, searching for a sign. Should he go through the trouble of moving Ray off the bathroom floor or should he just let him sleep there? Sand preferred him unconscious, if he was being honest, but it seemed cruel to leave him alone on the cold, hard tile. Especially since the room was starting to smell. So, summoning all of the goodwill he had left in him, he pushed Ray off of his shoulder and stood.

“C’mon, you lightweight,” he said, having to hold Ray upright so he didn’t just collapse into a ball on the floor. “Let’s get you up.”

“I don’t wanna,” Ray grumbled, swatting him away. Violently. Sand had never wanted to smack another human so much in his life. His patience was officially shot. 

“Get up,” he snapped. He wasn’t asking this time. He grabbed Ray forcibly under his arms and lifted him. 

“You’re mean,” Ray said, but once he was standing, he didn’t immediately collapse back to the floor again. Sand counted that as a win.

“Do you think you can make it to the couch?” Sand asked. It was less than twenty feet away—you could literally see it from where they were standing.

“I’m not a baby. Of course I can make it to the couch.” But all it took was one step before Ray was teetering dangerously towards the floor. Sand rolled his eyes and caught him before he could actually fall.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said and then threw one of Ray’s arms around his shoulder and led him from the room.

“I don’t need your help,” Ray whined. But despite his words, he accepted it. 

When they reached the couch, Sand tossed him onto it unceremoniously. He planned to just leave him there to fend for himself, but then he watched as Ray curled up with one of his pillows as if it was a stuffed animal and Sand’s goddamn heart got the best of him. He couldn’t just leave him like this, pathetic and alone, covered in his own vomit. Even Ray deserved a little bit of dignity. So, he sighed and turned towards his own bedroom.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. Not that Ray cared. He had already fallen back asleep.

Sand emerged from his bedroom a couple minutes later with a change of clothes in hand for his new drunk friend. 

“Ray,” he snapped, tossing them onto the couch next to him. Ray didn’t so much as move. “Are you dead? Jesus Christ.” 

He sat down on the couch next to him and began pulling off his shoes, which looked like they probably cost more than Sand’s rent. Ray began grumbling and kicking his legs as if this was some great inconvenience to him personally, but he was too drunk to be able to put up any real fight. Sand was able to restrain him easily. 

“Now your shirt,” he prompted, forcing Ray to sit. He had to lift him three separate times before he stayed of his own accord and by then he was glaring at Sand as if Sand was the one being difficult. “Come on. Arms up.”

Ray raised his arms dutifully and Sand stripped him of his shirt. For a second, he thought Ray had finally decided to participate in his own care, but once the shirt was off, Sand glanced up to find that the look in Ray’s eyes had changed. It was darker now, charged with something Sand couldn’t quite name. It gave him pause.

“You like what you see?” Ray asked, his eyes scouring Sand’s body as if he was seeing him for the first time. And although Sand would deny it if anyone ever asked him, there was something there. A spark he would much rather ignore.

“You’re covered in vomit,” he said, shoving the new shirt down over Ray’s head. He'd meant it to be a sort of punishment for even daring to ask such a thing, but he wasn’t prepared for how cute Ray would look emerging from the other side with his hair all rumpled. Ray was like a wet cat, feral but endearing despite his temper. This had been a very bad idea. 

Sand released Ray before his brain could get any stupid ideas and then tossed the shorts he had brought him into his lap. “Here. Do the rest yourself.” But as he moved to get up, Ray stopped him by reaching for the front of Sand’s pants and Sand was so surprised by the sudden display of coordination that it took him a second to realize what was happening. Ray was trying to take his belt off.

“What are you doing?” Sand snapped, prying Ray’s hands off of him.

“I’m undressing you,” Ray said as if it were obvious. “You take my clothes off, I take your clothes off. That’s how it works. Have you never done this before? I’ll be gentle.” Then he leaned in and bit the lobe of Sand’s ear.

“Are you out of your mind?” Sand snapped, pushing him away. Then he stood, knowing Ray was too drunk to follow.

“I thought you said you wanted payment?” Ray snapped as if what he was offering was equal in value to a fifteen minute drive into town and a safe place to sleep. As if maybe he had offered it before. The thought made Sand feel sick to his stomach.

“I know where your mouth has been, so no thank you” he said and then threw the shorts at him again. “Now finish getting dressed. I’m going to get you something to drink.” Ray’s face lit up at the suggestion. “Something non-alcoholic to drink. God, you’re a mess. Do you know that?”

He made his way into the kitchen and poured Ray a glass of water. By the time he returned, Ray was dressed, sitting up on the couch looking much younger without all of the trappings of wealth adorning him. It was only then that Sand noticed what shirt he had picked out in the dark. “Poor Boy,” it read. The choice hadn’t been intentional, but it made him laugh.

“Ironic,” he said, pointing at the shirt.

Ray looked down at his chest, going crossed-eyed as he tried to decipher the words. “What does it say?”

“It says you're cute,” Sand lied.

“Really?” Ray asked, preening.

“Really,” Sand said and then passed him the glass of water. “Drink this.”

“What is it?” Ray asked, sniffing it curiously as if he thought he was being poisoned. 

“Water,” Sand said. “Drink it. It’ll make you feel better.” 

Ray looked like he sincerely doubted this, but he took a few hesitant sips anyway. Sand kept his hand held under the glass the whole time, scared Ray might drop it. Ray lowered the glass after drinking less than half.

“Nope,” Sand corrected, raising it to his lips again. “The whole thing.”

Ray grumbled out a half-hearted protest, but he was actually fairly good at following directions when you coaxed him enough. Within a few seconds, the rest of the water was gone.

“Good boy,” Sand teased, taking the glass from his hand and setting it down on the coffee table. Ray grinned, flattered by the praise, and despite his annoyance, Sand couldn’t help but feel something at the sight of him, drunk but happy. So instead of facing those feelings, he pushed him back down onto the sofa. “Sleep. I’ve had enough of you for one night.”

“Fine,” Ray grumbled, rolling over onto his stomach and clinging once again to Sand’s pillow as if it was the only thing holding him together. Within seconds, his breathing began to slow. Sand watched him from the doorway, wondering who he was sober, but it was a pointless exercise. Eventually, he shook himself from his stupor and turned towards his room.

“Thank you,” he heard Ray mutter from the couch. Sand paused, surprised by his sudden bout of manners, but then Ray added, “Mew.”

Sand rolled his eyes. Of course Ray thought Sand was someone else. Of course he did. He shut of the lights, went back to his room, and tried to sleep, but instead, he lay awake for hours thinking about the boy on his couch. He tried not to dwell on what that meant.

[babytarttdoodoo]

not sure if u do ship prompts so feel free to ignore this 💕 but maybe something where royjamie are caught making out by the himbos and there is much teasing. flustered jamie is a bonus. but honestly you could literally write anything and i’d read it💕💕

I absolutely do! Hope it’s to your liking 🙂 (I accidentally let some feelings get in here. Oops.)

Roy/Jamie, post-canon

Song rec: Do Ya

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

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“We’re at work.” Roy reminded Jamie lightly, not sounding nearly as annoyed as he wanted to be. It was hard when he had a lapful of gorgeous, handsy footballer.

“Training’s over.” Jamie countered, eagerly pressing Roy back into his chair, one knee propped on the seat between his legs and arms braced to stop him from rolling away. “Plus, it’s your birthday, you grumpy twat. Let me kiss you.”

“That’s the rule, is it?” Roy fought the grin trying to break free. He wasn’t very successful.

Jamie hummed an affirmative, eyes bright and smile wide, before leaning in to seal their lips together. He licked into Roy’s mouth with another happy sound, deep in his throat, when he was met with equal enthusiasm.

Despite his reservations about location, Roy would never actually be able to turn down being kissed by Jamie Fucking Tartt.

He did cut it short, though, when Jamie moved his hands up to Roy’s face and, without his grip as an anchor, the wheeled chair scooted back with wild momentum. To his credit, Jamie still tried to follow him but promptly sent a stapler to the floor with a loud clatter in his haste.

“Alright, alright.” Roy broke away with a placating hand to Jamie’s chest, breathing hard and glad he was wearing his loose tracksuit bottoms. He glanced at the closed blinds of his office. “Not fucking here. Anyone could come in.”

“Part of the fun, innit?” Jamie waggled his eyebrows but relented and straightened up. He stretched his arms above his head, causing his shirt to ride up and expose a strip of golden skin. Roy’s eyes followed the movement of their own accord and he licked his still slick lips, only half aware that he was doing so.

Jamie, on the other hand, clearly knew exactly what he was doing and smirked like the little prick he was.

“Y’know, I were the last in the gym. No one in the locker room when I came through. Haven’t seen the lads in, like, 20 minutes.”

Fuck. It was tempting.

Roy reached out and gripped Jamie’s waist, tugging him in. He came happily but pouted when Roy just used him as leverage to stand. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“Sorry, coach, but you knew that already.” Jamie grinned, no hint of remorse.

“My fucking fault, then?” Roy rolled his eyes and leaned in for another brief press of lips, forcibly keeping it chaste. It was ridiculous, how quickly Jamie could rile him up. “Suppose that means I’m taking you back to mine.”

Jamie’s face lit up. “You’re leaving early?” he confirmed, clearly delighted.

“Not going to get anything else done, now, am I?” Roy sighed, digging his thumbs pointedly into Jamie’s hips.

Jamie laughed and pulled him towards the door.

“I promise to be the sexiest little present you could ever unwrap to make up for it.”

“Is that right?”

Jamie stuck out his tongue cheekily and Roy couldn’t help himself. He wound one arm tightly around Jamie’s waist, the other hand going to the back of his head so he could hold him close and put that tongue to better use.

It was intoxicating, getting to have this after thinking about it for so long. He was only vaguely aware that they were still moving.

One of Jamie’s hands flailed around until he found the door handle, grabbing both it and the front of Roy’s shirt to manoeuvre them through the entryway without needing to break contact.

He was clearly eager to get them home. Roy was enjoying this moment just fine, though, and pinned Jamie against the now open doorframe. He pushed up against him and tugged on his hair as he deepened the kiss even further.

Jamie’s answering moan cut off midway, morphing into an urgent, distressed sound. He batted at Roy’s chest and he pulled back immediately, concern like a wash of ice in his gut.

Too much? Too aggressive? This was still so fucking new.

“What’s wrong?”

Jamie had gone pale, eyes fixed to his right. Oh no. Roy followed his gaze reluctantly, a growing sense of dread making each second stretch.

The whole team. The whole fucking team. Plus Keeley. And Rebecca. Oh, fuck, the Diamond Dogs too.

All of them, gathered together in the locker room, seemingly frozen in the act of lighting candles on a black-frosted birthday cake.

Shit shit shit.

“Uh.” A grunt was all he could manage. Unfortunately, a quick glance at Jamie confirmed that he was in no state to talk them out of this either.

The moment stretched.

“Surprise?” Keeley finally ventured, voice high and breathy. She shimmied her hands and it broke the spell.

Rebecca broke into loud, unrestrained laughter. A few others joined in, more still shouting over each other in a sudden explosion of sound. The words Roy managed to make out amidst the cacophony seemed split between declarations of being proven right, or complaints that this was why surprise parties were stupid.

No one looked angry. Trent Crimm looked entirely too fucking smug. But there wasn’t a trace of disgust or outrage on any face that Roy could see.

A weight he hadn’t really been brave enough to acknowledge floated right off his shoulders.

Reassured that they weren’t about to have to fight for their jobs, Roy turned his attention back to Jamie, who had startled when the noise started up and still had a vice grip on the front of Roy’s shirt.

He wasn’t pale now, a flush painting his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. His eyes were darting around, looking, Roy knew, for the same signs of rejection he had.

“Oi.” Roy squeezed his wrist gently. Jamie jumped again and snatched back his hands at the reminder of their proximity. He met Roy’s eyes though, a tremulous, hopeless smile in place.

Before either of them could say anything, Isaac’s booming voice cut through the room.

“Is this what all that ‘extra training’ was about?”

“Eh, no!” Jamie shot back, shoulders hunched up around his ears. “Look at me, you think you put on this kind of muscle in the bedroom?”

“Depends how you’re doing it.” Jan offered, which was a mildly terrifying train of thought Roy was not going to pursue.

“I can’t believe neither of you told me!” That was Keeley, somehow managing to look elated and put out at the same time.

“We haven’t told anyone.” Jamie whined. “Haven’t even told me mum yet. She’s never gonna forgive me.”

“I’m sure introducing her to Roy Kent will help smooth that over.” Rebecca said, eyes still bright with laughter and smirk firmly in place as she gave Roy the once over.

“I’ve already met her,” he snapped, the attention grating at him. “And it’s fucking new, alright? We didn’t need you lot sticking your noses in, and we still fucking don’t.”

There were a few grumbles but his typical Kentian reaction seemed to calm the rabble a bit.

“Question?” Sam raised a hand politely. “How long has this been going on, exactly?”

“About a month, I think.” Roy did a double-take and stared at Will, who had just cheerfully chipped in that (accurate) information from the corner.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Jamie covered his face with his hands. “Boot room?”

“Boot room.” Will confirmed sagely and Roy just knew his own face was turning red now.

“Boot room?” Trent sounded even more smug than he looked. Roy growled at him.

He was quickly distracted, however, when he noticed cash changing hands among the players and - in a mortifying twist of events - Higgins.

“You had a fucking betting pool?” Jamie’s voice rose in pitch and volume, incredulous and offended. “I were over here, having a crisis about a crush on our manager and you were betting on it?”

He was looking specifically at Colin and Dani, who both shrugged.

“It was not a crush.” Dani argued. “You’ve been head over heels for years. It just took you longer than everyone else to realise it.”

“Look at it this way.” Colin continued, blithely accepting a wad of notes from Richard. “At least we were confident it was going to happen.”

Jamie glowered and threw up his hands.

“I regret everything. I never should have fucking come out to you lot. You- Wait a minute.” He stopped mid-rant, blinking at the all but forgotten cake. “Did you all plan a surprise party for Roy and not invite me?!”

A few people did at least have the grace to wince at that.

“Thing is, babe,” Keeley started gently. “You tell Roy everything.”

“Kind of ruins the ‘surprise’ part.” Moe agreed. “We figured you’d be with him, anyway. You usually are.”

“Which makes all the sense in the world, now.” Trent observed and didn’t cower nearly enough under Roy’s vicious glare.

Jamie pouted, tucking his hands into the ends of his sleeves. “Don’t tell him everything.” he objected petulantly. “I can keep a secret.”

“We know.” Sam sidled a bit closer, smile genuine and voice cajoling. “The point is, we didn’t want you to have to. Even if it’s a nice thing, it can be hard to keep something from someone you, ah…”

He trailed off, glancing between the two of them.

“Care about.”

That was oddly touching, Roy thought, but Jamie still looked on the verge of being genuinely upset. This wasn’t when or how they’d talked about telling people.

“Right.” He clapped his hands together, bringing all the eyes in the room back to himself. “If it’s my fucking party, then what I say goes. First off, no one breathes a word about this outside of the people in this room.”

He glared around, making sure the gravity of that statement set in. There wasn’t as much fear as there might have been a year ago but he thought there was a tad more respect, at least.

“Second, we’re going to cut the fucking cake now. I will blow out a single candle. No bloody singing.”

A round of nodding. More than they’d expected, probably.

“And third.” He slipped his hand into Jamie’s, easing his fingers out of their grip on his shirt’s fabric with the movement. “I don’t want to hear a single fucking catcall, innuendo or double entendre when we leave together, got it? Today or any other day.”

The team especially looked disappointed but enough of them seemed to have taken notice of Jamie’s defensive posture that there wasn’t too much outcry. Keeley raised her eyebrows at him and he rolled his eyes, hoping his blush had died down.

“Glad we’re all on the same page. Now get to it.”

A hubbub of activity took over again as everyone returned to what they had been doing when Roy and Jamie unexpectedly burst into their party preparations. Music started up from someone’s phone and the sound of a champagne bottle being opened triggered a bunch of cheers.

Jamie shuffled in close again.

“Thanks.” he said quietly, swinging their joined hands a little. “You didn’t have to.”

“They’re a bunch of muppets.” Roy told him. “But no one here’s out to get us. It’s not… I know it’s not what we talked about but. It’s okay, right?”

Jamie nodded, chewing his lip. “Yeah. Yeah, course it is.” He huffed. “Can’t believe those two just made a mint off of me misery.”

“Misery?”

Jamie turned a little pink again and knocked his hip against Roy’s. “Got drunk at the end of season party last year. Ended up spilling my guts to Dani about how I felt about you. He roped in Colin to deal with the whole bisexuality thing, and both of them were sworn to secrecy.”

It pained Roy a little bit, to think of Jamie pining unhappily while he was still getting his head on straight. Or not straight, as it were.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make them pay for it.” Roy offered and Jamie’s expression cleared. He narrowed his eyes at the lads in question and hummed.

That didn’t bode well for them.

“And, since it’s a special occasion, I won’t mind you having a drink and a bit of cake.”

Jamie properly brightened at that and (quickly, shyly) kissed Roy’s cheek. It was so much more innocent than what they’d been doing just a few minutes ago but it threatened to make Roy weak at the knees.

He shoved at Jamie playfully and he grinned as he moved away and let himself be absorbed into the throng of people. Sam slung an arm around his shoulders immediately.

Beard sidled up into the now vacant space next to Roy.

“I’m going to tell Ted,” he informed him, sounding almost apologetic. Almost.

Roy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. But if he sends me anything with rainbows on it, you’ll be the one fucking burning it.”

[sagesolsticewrites]

Heat Wave

It’s the hottest summer Iowa’s had in a while. Your husband wears shorts. It gets even hotter.

Shoutout to Winnie (@winniemaywebber) for making yet another incredible playlist for this fic!

Warnings: mature content (dom/sub dynamics (sub!Harry, dom!Mrs.Crosby (you’re Jean, bc of course who else would you be?)), thigh riding, thigh biting 👀, teasing, praise kink, orgasm denial, this whole thing is roleplay “punishing” Harry for sleeping with Sandra), swearing, mentions of cheating (but not really bc there was a war on come on y’all; Mrs. Crosby in this fic has canonically forgiven him for it, this is just a way for them to have some fun), definitely some historical inaccuracies in here, and ofc including a whole separate warning for Anthony Boyle’s thighs <3 (this is an 18+ fic!! minors begone!!)

Word count: 1.5k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Masterlist

It was June 1946, and it was the hottest summer in Iowa since the war had started.

You and Harry had opened all the windows in the house, hoping to let in some semblance of a breeze, but the air remained stagnant and stifling. You had resorted to foregoing a dress entirely, wearing the thinnest slip you had and simply praying that no one came to call on the two of you in your little house in the middle of nowhere, while your Bing had stripped down to just a pair of shorts and his undershirt, the glass of iced tea in his hand dripping condensation onto his bare thigh.

You can’t help but track the drop as it follows a path down the inside of your husband’s thigh to seep into the fabric of the worn armchair he’s currently collapsed in with his legs spread wide; the heat outside matching the building heat in your core as you take in his underdressed state.

He catches you staring with a knowing glint in his eye, setting his drink aside on the coffee table.

“Something I can help you with, Mrs. Crosby?”

Normally you would play coy, but something about the oppressive heat and the way your husband is sprawled out in that chair makes you want to try a different tactic.

“As a matter of fact there is, my darling Bing,” you purr, slinking over to his chair.

He eagerly leans up for a kiss, but you swerve, brushing gentle kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw… everywhere but his lips, where he really wants you.

Understanding dawns on his face, and his eyes fill with heat as he realizes it’s going to be one of those days.

“Honey, please,” he whines softly, a gasp escaping him as you trace up the inside of his thigh with one neatly manicured nail.

His hips buck up towards your hand, but you pull away quickly.

“Uh-uh,” you scold softly, tilting his chin up with two fingers so his eyes meet yours, “Not yet, sweetheart.”

He nods obediently, pretty brown eyes wholly enraptured by you.

“Good boy,” you murmur, brushing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before moving to kneel between his legs.

A soft whimper escapes your husband at the molten look you shoot him as you brush featherlight kisses up the inside of each of his thighs, his hands clenching around the armrests as he resists the urge to forcibly put you where he wants you.

You hear his breath catch as your mouth reaches the spot where his thigh and hip meet, still covered by his shorts, followed shortly by a desperate whine as your lips trace the same path back down his leg.

“No, sweetheart,” you murmur, punctuating it with a nip to the flesh of his thigh, “You were very bad when you were gone, remember?”

Your nails grazing lightly down his other thigh prompts a soft, gasping “Yes, yes, I remember.”

You reward him with a soft kiss to where your teeth just were, continuing.

“So, you don’t get to cum until I’ve decided you’ve made it up to me, ‘kay honey?”

He nods.

“Need your words, sweetheart.” You prod gently.

“I understand,” he breathes, desperation coloring his voice.

“Good boy,” you praise, and you descend.

You gently dig your teeth into the flesh of his thigh once more, nibbling and sucking a path along both of his thighs, peppering in gentle kisses as you go.

Your toes curl, wetness pooling between your legs at the soft whimpers, moans, and gasps that your husband is making above you.

Satisfied with the series of pretty purple marks decorating his flesh, you scatter several soft kisses across his skin before you stand, letting your slip hit the floor.

Bing swears softly as he takes in the sight of you, one hand creeping towards the prominent bulge at the apex of his thighs.

You raise a stern eyebrow, leaning over to tap his hand once.

“No touching,” you scold softly as he jerks his hand back to grip the armrest, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“‘M sorry, honey, I just… you’re so pretty…”

“Being sweet to me won’t make me go easier on you, my love,” you murmur, though part of you melts at the compliment.

Your husband lets out a soft groan of “oh, Christ,” as you shed your panties and move to straddle his leg, slowly sinking down onto his broad quadricep.

You pull his face towards you, two fingers under his chin, to breathe against his lips.

“Remember,” you say, taking in his pretty eyes, pupils blown wide as you slowly rock back and forth on his leg, “You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

He nods frantically, a strangled “Yes” his only response as you begin to grind against him in earnest.

You can’t quite bring yourself to stifle your moans at the feeling of your core gliding along Harry’s bare thigh, and your husband’s already darkened eyes turn almost black at the sound.

“F-fuck, honey, you feel so good,” you gasp against his lips, praise tumbling from your lips as tension builds just below your belly, “Being so good for me, letting me use you like this—”

Your husband lets out a strangled moan, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the chair.

“Honey… Honey, please let me cum,” he whines after several minutes of your agonizing teasing, his breath hot on your mouth, “Haven’t I been good? I don’t—” he cuts off with a pleading groan as your nails rake down his back, your pace increasing.

“Fuck, I don’t know if I can last much longer, honey, please.” 

One of your hands comes up to grip his hair at the roots, dark curls deliciously soft under your fingers. You murmur against his lips as he lets out a soft hiss, “Make me cum first, baby, and then I might let you.”

 He moans into your mouth, flexing his thigh against you and causing you to gasp at the new angle.

“Oh, Christ, just like that, honey,” you groan, grinding desperately against him, a stuttering moan escaping you as you stammer “I’m— ‘m gonna—”

You muffle your cry in his neck as you reach your peak, grinding slowly against him as you ride out your climax.

Harry whimpers in your ear as your leg brushes his bulge.

“Sweetheart— please, can I—?”

“Yes, honey,” you say, pulling him into you for a heated, open-mouthed kiss as your hand dives into his shorts to wrap around his length, “Did so, so good for me, you can let go now, baby”

It only takes a few pumps, your hand slick with the precum leaking from his tip, before he’s spilling into your hand with a cry.

The two of you catch your breath, foreheads pressed together.

“Wow, sweetheart,” Harry says, huffing out a laugh.

You giggle, pulling him in for a kiss that you can’t help smiling into.

“It wasn’t too much, right?” You ask, pulling away to scan his face for any hint of unease.

“Not at all, honey,” your husband assures you with a sweet kiss to your forehead, reaching to pass you a rag sitting on the table so you can clean your hand off.

You stand, sliding your slip back on before settling in next to him, one arm wrapping around your shoulders and tucking you in close.

“So,” Harry says, a cheeky grin lighting up his face, “Have I made up for it yet, my love?”

You pretend to think for a moment, a smirk on your face as you reply.

“For now, honey. For now.”

A quiet moment passes, and you turn to press your lips to his shoulder in a gentle kiss.

“You know I’m not really upset about what happened when you were gone,” you say softly, fingers tangling with his, “right, honey? I know things were tough, things were… unspeakably bad, and you were doing what you had to do to stay sane so you could get through it and come back to me.”

Your husband lets out a soft sigh, squeezing your fingers with a smile at the reassurance that’s become routine after moments like these.

“I know, sweetheart. I—” His voice goes soft, gratitude seeping into every word as he traces your jaw with his fingertips, eyes tracing over your features as if he still can’t believe you’re real, “I thought about you every day when I was over there. I missed you so, so much.”

You lean into his touch. In the months he’s been home, you still haven’t been able to get enough of him being here, being able to touch you, and you in turn being able to touch him. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.”

[dinamaliha]

Hello, I am Nora Maliha from the devastated Gaza Strip. I am 24 years old, studying special education, and was about to graduate. I come from a academically accomplished and ambitious family. My father works in the occupied territories, and my mother is a homemaker. I have two sisters (Dina and Farah) and three brothers (Ahmed, Mohammed and Amr)

Dina:-

A teacher, graduated with honors from university after achieving a 98.9% GPA in high school in 2014. A determined and ambitious girl who faced life's challenges alone despite our difficult financial circumstances, managing to make a difference in society as a woman

Ahmed:-

A third-year college student majoring in software engineering, my elder brother trying to shoulder responsibilities in the absence of our father. Life seems bigger than him as a young man unable to secure his daily

Farah:-

The cheerful girl who graduated high school with a 90% GPA, started her educational journey at university in her first year. Farah, who never gave up, spoke to us about her ambitions and visions for the future.

Mohammed:-

The beautiful child, thirteen years old, excelling in his studies. Unlike the rest of the family, Mohammed suffered from a severe respiratory crisis and chronic inflammation of the airways. His companion was the respiratory device he couldn't live without. What broke Mohammed's heart was leaving his device behind when we were forced to flee to southern Gaza.

Amr:-

Eleven years old and very bright in his studies, Amr is mischievous, aiming to become a mechanical engineer.

Our Story:

Since childhood, we've lived in a rented house, and our father worked tirelessly abroad to afford us a home of our own, but we never achieved that dream. We led a quiet and stable life, dreaming of studying hard to build our future.

All these dreams shattered on October 7th. We lost contact with our father in the occupied territories and haven't heard from him since. Until now, we receive unverified news. We endured the early days of war in northern Gaza, refusing to evacuate to the south, hoping for its end. We couldn't sleep at night due to intense bombing and heavy artillery until November 15th when the occupation forces stormed our home, forcing us to flee on foot to the south. My mother, siblings, and I passed through the occupation forces' checkpoint, forcibly searched and terrorized by gunfire. I can't describe how much we cried that day. We headed to the Red Crescent headquarters in Khan Yunis, where we stayed for about a month and a half without any assistance. We received news of the occupation army entering and destroying our home completely. Here begins Mohammed's story as he started feeling extreme fatigue due to the air pollution from the smell of gunpowder and rockets. The Red Crescent had to resuscitate him using medical devices insufficient for all the patients. One dark night, the Israeli army bombed the Red Crescent without any prior warning, prompting my mother, siblings, and me to flee to Rafah. We set up a tent on the beach in the freezing cold, unable to afford food, water, or Mohammed's medication. Rafah is no longer safe; the Israeli army threatens to invade, and we have no shelter or place to escape to. We feel deep sadness and extreme despair for our devastated lives, for our father far away, whom we haven't been able to contact for five months, alone without a provider, worried about Mohammed's inability to tolerate the smell of gunpowder. His health condition is critical, and action needs to be taken immediately to save his life. He and his family seek help and assistance for evacuation to Egypt. However, we cannot cover all these expenses, and those in charge shouldn't leave us to suffer the psychological and physical trauma that has accompanied us and worsened during the genocide in Gaza.

All we wish is for you to help us cross the Rafah crossing to Egypt to start anew.

Information and cost for crossing to Egypt via its only agent, "Yahala Company":Information and cost for crossing to Egypt via its only agent, "Yahala Company":

$5000 per adult (we are five adults), totaling $25,000.

$2500 per person under 18 (2 children), totaling $5000.

Renting an apartment in Egypt costs $166 monthly ($2000 for a full year).

Total amount: $32,000.

[good-old-gossip]

Israeli army carries out random killings, new forced displacement campaign in Gaza City’s Zaytoun neighbourhood

Palestinian Territory - As part of its ongoing military operation in Gaza City, the Israeli army carried out a second day of random killings in the city’s southeastern Zaytoun neighbourhood. Israel’s clear aim is to imposea new forced displacement campaign, destroying Gaza City and the Gaza Strip’s northern region, and evacuating its residents.

The Israeli army conducted its second military operation in less than three months in the Zaytounneighbourhood. Amid heavy Israeli air and artillery attacks, a military ground incursion, the forced evacuation of hundreds of families, and the bombing of residential squares, Palestinians in the area are struggling to survive.

The neighbourhood, which is thought to be among the most densely populated areas in the Strip with an estimated population of 78,000, was previously targeted by the Israeli army in numerous airstrikes prior to the new ground assault.

The ongoing bombing is said to have resulted in numerous civilian deaths and injuries, while ambulance crews have encountered difficulties in reaching the victims. Reports also affirm that displaced people have also come under Israeli gunfire.

Forty-two-year-old Zaytoun neighbourhood resident Ibrahim Fathi Yassin told Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor that he and his family were forced to evacuate to a shelter in a school due to intensive shelling. However, they were targeted by an Israeli quadcopter and hit while walking down Totah Street, which resulted in Yassin’s injury and the death of his father, who was left bleeding at the scene due to the heavy gunfire.

Another displaced resident, Muhammad Al-Baba, told the Euro-Med Monitor team that residents of the Zaytoun neighbourhood came under intensive shelling on Friday morning, forcing them to leave their houses. While searching for a safe haven, they were targeted by an Israeli quadcopter. At least one member of the Abedfamily, a girl, was killed during the attack.

Al-Baba further noted that the Israeli army also attacked scores of displaced people taking refuge in the Shuhada Zaytoun School, resulting in numerous casualties. Notably, the targeting did not spare the carts that the residents depend on for movement during thedisplacement process.

Talal Saeb Al-Harazin told the Euro-Med Monitor team that he and his nephew suffered moderate and serious injuries while trying to flee their home in the Zaytounneighbourhood after being targeted by at least three artillery shells. The shells caused major destruction in the area.

By expanding the buffer zones it creates inside the Gaza Strip to strengthen its military position in the Netzarim axis—separating the north and south of the Strip—the Israeli army is able to commit more killings, cause more destruction, and displace more individualsin an effort to escalate its genocide against Palestinian civilians and impose a fait accompli. This has been going on for weeks in places like Al-Mughraqa and the Nuseirat refugee camp in the central Gaza Strip.

Israel continues to break international law by committing crimes against humanity, war crimes, and grave violations against the Palestinian people, primarily in the Gaza Strip.

Prompt international action is therefore required to end to Israel’s genocide and campaign of forced displacement against the Strip’s population, which violates international law and amounts to the crime of forcible transfer.

Civilians are still being evacuated from their homes and shelter centres without being provided a safe place to stay, and are instead being left out in open spaces without any facilities to supply basic necessities for life and safety, or security during their displacement. In addition, homes, gathering places, and residential neighbourhoods are being systematically and widely destroyed by Israel, depriving forcibly displaced people of a realistic timeline in terms of when they can expect to be safe. 

Source - https://euromedmonitor.org/en/article/6317/Israeli-army-carries-out-random-killings,-new-forced-displacement-campaign-in-Gaza-City’s-Zaytoun-neighbourhood

[nerdygaymormon]

Alma 9:16-17 - Traditions of their Fathers :

16 For there are many promises which are extended to the Lamanites; for it is because of the traditions of their fathers that caused them to remain in their state of ignorance; therefore the Lord will be merciful unto them and prolong their existence in the land.

17 And at some period of time they will be brought to believe in his word, and to know of the incorrectness of the traditions of their fathers; and many of them will be saved, for the Lord will be merciful unto all who call on his name.

————————————————————

In these verses, Alma declares that the Lamanites are kept from many promised blessings due to their ignorance, which is the result of traditions handed down to them from their ancestors, but at some future point they'll learn the truth, reject the false traditions, and be greatly blessed.

The Lamanites grew up learning that they had always been wronged by the Nephites, which prompted them to hate and fight against the Nephites.

Traditions are powerful forces in our lives, whether they are based on truth or not. If they are false, they drag us down and threaten others. Being taught to hate and fear groups of people is passing on false traditions.

This reminds me how after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, innocent American citizens of Japanese descent were forcibly removed from their homes, stripped of their property, and unfairly imprisoned. Today, many Americans are suspicious of, or outright hateful, of anyone appearing to be of Middle Eastern descent, which results in violence against them simply for where they or their parents have come from.

People in our church cling to false traditions which cause them to be close minded and ignorant about specific groups, including queer people. Much of what was preached about queer people has been disproved, yet many continue to find comfort in the false traditions rather than to open their heart and treat others how they would want to be treated. Sadly, many preach love but actually do and say hateful things.

Fortunately, there are a growing number who are choosing to follow their hearts and the truth and disregard the false narratives they were taught. Over the past decade, many members of the LDS Church have come out as queer, their stories are shared online and in podcasts and church firesides, queer people are no longer strangers. Latter-day Saints are seeing that the reality of the person in front of them is different from what they were taught.

Many great blessings are still denied to queer Mormons due to the false traditions of our forefathers, but a growing number of church members are coming "to know of the incorrectness of the traditions" and seeing that God's love is meant for everyone.

[soon-palestine]

Seventy-five years ago, Zionist militias tore through Palestinian villages, massacring the villagers and expelling those who remained alive, to clear the way for the creation of the state of Israel. An estimated 15,000 Palestinians were killed and hundreds of thousands fled their homes to live as refugees in other parts of Palestine or neighbouring countries, an event known by Palestinians as the Nakba – “the catastrophe”.

On April 9, 1948, just weeks before the creation of the State of Israel, members of the Irgun and Stern Gang Zionist militias attacked the village of Deir Yassin, killing at least 107 Palestinians. According to testimonies from the perpetrators and surviving victims, many of the people slaughtered – from those who were tied to trees and burned to death to those lined up against a wall and shot by submachine guns – were women, children and the elderly. As news of the atrocities spread, thousands fled their villages in fear. Eventually, some 700,000 Palestinians would flee or be forcibly displaced at the outset of Israel’s creation, making the massacre a decisive moment in Palestinian history.

[.]

According to a 1948 report filed by the British delegation to the United Nations, the killing of “some 250 Arabs, men, women and children, took place in circumstances of great savagery”. “Women and children were stripped, lined up, photographed, and then slaughtered by automatic firing and survivors have told of even more incredible bestialities,” the report said. “Those who were taken prisoners were treated with degrading brutality.” Israeli historian Benny Morris said the militias “ransacked unscrupulously, stole money and jewels from the survivors and burned the bodies. Even dismemberment and rape occurred.” The number of dead is disputed but ranges from 100 to 250. A representative of the Red Cross who entered Deir Yassin on April 11 reported seeing the bodies of some 150 people heaped haphazardly in a cave, while around 50 were amassed in a separate location.

Prominent Jewish intellectual Martin Buber wrote at the time that such events had been “infamous”. “In Deir Yassin hundreds of innocent men, women and children were massacred,” he said. “Let the village remain uninhabited for the time being, and let its desolation be a terrible and tragic symbol of war, and a warning to our people that no practical military needs may ever justify such acts of murder.” Morris noted that “Deir Yassin had a profound demographic and political effect: It was followed by mass flight of Arabs from their locales.” News of the massacre spread panic among the Palestinians, prompting hundreds of thousands to flee. Four nearby villages were next: Qalunya, Saris, Beit Surik and Biddu. Deir Yassin was no mistake, according to Israeli historian Ilan Pappé.

“Depopulating Palestine was not a consequential war event, but a carefully planned strategy, otherwise known as Plan Dalet, which was authorised by [Israeli leader David] Ben-Gurion in March 1948,” Pappé wrote. “Operation Nachshon was, in fact, the first step in the plan.” The massacre unleashed a cycle of violence and counterviolence that has been the pattern since. Jewish forces have regarded any Palestinian village as an enemy military base, which has paved way for the blurred distinction between massacring civilians and killing combatants, according to the historian.

Israeli historians and Israeli society have been able to admit to the massacre in Deir Yassin by attributing it to the right-wing group Irgun, but have covered up or denied other massacres – notably the one in Tantura in 1948 – carried out by the Haganah, the main Jewish militia from which the current-day Israeli military has evolved.

[.]

Despite this shift of blame, leading human rights organisations like Human Rights Watch (HRW) and Amnesty International have labelled Israel itself an apartheid state. “We reached this determination based on our documentation of an overarching government policy to maintain the domination by Jewish Israelis over Palestinians,” HRW said in 2021. “As recognition grows that these crimes are being committed, the failure to recognize that reality requires burying your head deeper and deeper into the sand,” it added. “Today, apartheid is not a hypothetical or future scenario.”

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Random Whump Prompts/things

Content: Kidnapping, non-con drugging, sleep deprivation, forceful physical treatment, defiant whumpee, PTSD/trauma, muzzles, collars, [non-sexual] nudity, forced to watch, multiple whumpees, conditioned whumpee, whumpee-turned-caretaker.

Whumpee screaming Caretaker's name as they're taken away from them.

That classic moment when Caretaker rescues Whumpee from their cell/basement/etc. and Whumpee's convinced that they're not real because they've had dreams/hallucinated this moment countless times before.

Whumpee's last words to Whumper are something along the lines of "I hate/blame you" and though Whumper tries not to let it get to them - they didn't care for Whumpee afterall - they're haunted by that phrase for years afterwards.

Caretaker having to drug Whumpee so they'll get some sleep/won't resist food or treatment/etc.

Whumpee trying their favourite meal for the first time since their rescue.

Caretaker going multiple nights without sleeping because Whumpee won't sleep unless they're actively watching over them.

Whumpee attacking Caretaker out of fear and feeling terrible about it afterwards.

Multiple people having to restrain Whumpee just so they can be treated.

Addition to the previous one: Caretaker pushing through the crowd of people and shoving those pinning them down out of the way before engulfing Whumpee in a hug. After months of no kindness whatsoever, Whumpee just breaks.

Whumpee initiating a hug for the first time since their rescue.

Whumpee getting to see their friends/family/pets for the first time since their rescue.

Whumpee doesn't let anyone touch the muzzle on their face or the collar around their neck for days after their rescue, but finally they're able to kneel down in front of Caretaker and quietly ask for permission for it all to come off.

Whumpee being forcibly stripped from their clothes in front of someone they love.

That moment when two whumpees are reunited with each other. Whumper drops the first Whumpee on the floor in their cell and the second one comes scrambling over to engulf them in a hug and comfort them.

Whumpee doesn't know that Caretaker was whumped until their whumper shows up one day and teases them about it. Letting Whumpee in on all the secrets Caretaker has tried so hard to hide...

[thesakuragarnet]

Suffocating in the Afterglow

Summary: Touya spent most of his time writing. His therapist told him it was the best outlet. He had been journaling ever since…he’d been journaling…well…everything. Every intrusive thought that he had…every negative thought that popped into his brain…he wrote it down. He wrote until he felt sick…and then again until he felt better. And…unfortunately…he’d also kept a journal that was specifically about Keigo…which Keigo had found…which is why they were in this fight.

DabiHawksWeek2024 Prompt Four: Post-War

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! TAGS BENEATH THE KEEP READING SECTION

Word Count: 2,801 words

AO3 link

Tags: DabiHawks, Final War Arc spoilers, Post-War, angst, bl00d, DabiHawksWeek2024, swearing, hurt/comfort, soft DabiHawks, they both have issues but they love each other

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Touya knows he started this fight somehow. Keigo wasn’t supposed to find that journal. It was probably a number of things built up. Tensions had still been high ever since they got back together…after Touya was placed in a rehabilitation facility. Surprisingly, he’d been bailed out by his family, who begged for a lighter sentence from the Commission pending the mandatory two-year rehabilitation. To Touya…it felt more like deconstruction and brainwashing…the way they worked to strip him of his ideals…of his convictions…of his “villainous tendencies”. That was just the general rehabilitation that was standard for villains seeking to re-enter society. Next came therapy…physical and mental. At one point, his skin had once again been replaced, and he was prescribed medication to mute his Quirk. He was also given a robotic arm to replace the one that had been obliterated in the final war. When he finally got out of prison and rehab, the last person he expected to be waiting for him was Keigo Takami. 

It took time and effort, but they’d moved into a little apartment by themselves, away from prying eyes, living lives as normal civilians in a post-war world. Keigo worked at an insurance agency (some cushy job that the Commission gifted him as compensation for losing his wings completely), and Touya…well…no one wanted to hire an ex-villain with a kill count upwards of thirty…even if now he was just a scrawny, half-blind threat to no one but himself. Not that he could really leave the house anyway…not with how physically shit he felt. While Touya’s mind was struggling to heal, his body was having even more of a catch-up. Every organ had been damaged for the second time in his life…and the doctors had done everything they could. His nerves were fried so much that he could barely feel Keigo’s hands roaming his body…he missed it. It was still muted before the war…but…it felt more real. Part of Touya feels like he’s just living in a simulation, trapped within the empty nightmares of his past, but the realness of Keigo’s love always brings him back to earth. Keigo always cooks dinner when he gets home, and Touya always attempts to pack lunch for him to take to work in the morning. They focus on the little things in their lives that they never used to partake in…that they never got the option to partake in. The hero and villain were forcibly transformed into two everyday civilians. 

Touya spent most of his time writing. His therapist told him it was the best outlet. He had been journaling ever since. He’d been journaling…well…everything. Every intrusive thought that he had…every negative thought that popped into his brain…he wrote it down. He wrote until he felt sick…and then again until he felt better. And…unfortunately…he’d also kept a journal that was specifically about Keigo…which Keigo had found in a drawer when he came home from work…which is why they were in this fight. 

“‘All Keigo talks about is work and I’m not sure we have anything in common?’ ‘How can I live with myself when the man I love killed one of my best friends?’ ‘Sometimes I think about disappearing…and how much it would hurt Keigo…and I can’t decide if I would care’ ‘Keigo made me upset this morning. I should’ve killed him’?! What the FUCK, Touya?! What is all this shit?!” Keigo shouts angrily, eyes filled with an icy mixture of fury and terror. Touya’s standing in the doorway of their bedroom, legs feeling like jelly, stomach dropping, heart bursting in his chest as bloody tears well up in his scarline. He still cries blood…they couldn’t repair his fucked up tear ducts despite all the other surgeries. Keigo’s eyes continue scanning page after page…and each one, he rips out and crumples it in his hand. Each paper tear makes Touya flinch. It makes him sick. He didn’t expect Keigo to be so infuriated…if anything…he was expecting some sort of remorse. Some sort of closure. After all, it was Keigo’s fault that he felt this way. It was Keigo who betrayed him first. He’s waiting…waiting for Keigo to finally reach the center of the journal…two pages that Touya often came back to in his darkest moments…especially after fights like this one. It’s two pages of things he swore he’d never talk about with Keigo…two pages of facts that he can barely live with.

“How long have you been hiding this from me?! I mean, I know you have these journals from therapy, but seriously, what the fuck, Touya?! It’s like you don’t even care about-”

‘There it is,’ Touya thinks, swallowing a sob as Keigo stops his vitriolic rant short, eyes scanning the two pages that have been scrawled over repeatedly with the words “Keigo should hate me. I deserve it. Keigo hates me. I hate myself. I’m the reason Keigo doesn’t have his wings. My fault. My fault.” The rant rambled on, but the gist was the same. Dark, dark pen marks…scratching out his own name with black ink. Touya can’t look his partner in the eye, and he stares at the floor, lip trembling, wishing he could rip off his skin for good once and for all. Keigo’s gaze lifts from the pages, anger replaced with concern; he can’t help his old tendencies to completely disregard himself when someone needs help…and Touya quite clearly, desperately needs help. Touya’s glasses fog up…and…he realizes that he’s finally crying. Hot crimson tears drip down his face, and he feels like his chest is caving in on itself. With a strangled cry, Touya collapses, falling to his knees and putting his forehead down on the floor as he pulls at his hair. 

“I-I’m sorry!” He cries out over and over between sobs as the white strands start coming loose in his fingers. 

Thunk.

Keigo drops the journal. 

“Shhhhh, shhhhh,” He whispers, running to Touya and squatting down beside him, frantically trying to grab at his hands so he stops tearing his hair out. Touya struggles for about five seconds before he gives up, still keeping his head down. 

“Fuck, Touya, stop it!” He harshly orders, holding his wrists tightly. Touya shakes, waves of pure anxiety and muted aches rolling through his body. He’s not supposed to get this worked up anymore; it’s dangerous for him. 

“I don’t…I don’t want to think those things,” Touya’s voice rasps out, choking on his own tears and spit as he gasps between agonized wails. “I…I…I’m sorry!” He cries out, unable to bring himself to look Keigo in the eyes. He wishes he could just disappear into the ether. He wishes he never survived Sekoto…wishes AFO had never found him…wishes he’d never met Keigo in the first place because then he would’ve never experienced romance and then the visceral heartbreak that inevitably follows it. He doesn’t know why he thought any of this would work. He’s a fucking monster. He’s always been a monster. Born into a body that was wrong in so many ways. He was a mistake. A failed experiment. A monstrosity. Why should Keigo love him? After everything? Touya almost screams when he feels Keigo’s calloused hand rubbing his back…he can feel the anger in it…anger behind the urge to comfort Touya. Touya hates this about Keigo. Even when he’s mad, he’ll still do the right thing. It doesn’t make sense…especially when Touya can never do that. He can’t not give in to his emotions. He’s always been this way. Why does it all come so fucking easy to Keigo? It’s not fair…it’s not fair…

“Touya?” Keigo repeats his lover’s name, trying to bring him out of whatever sudden panic he’s been consumed by. He can’t pull him out of it. He’s done this before; it’s almost always impossible to pull him out of it. He’s just gotta wait until it’s over…all he has to do is breathe and hold him until it’s over. 

“Touya?” Keigo says again, but Touya’s clearly not in his right mind right now, chest heaving and blood flowing down his face, refusing to lift his head off the floor.

“I-I-I,” Touya stammers, unable to form a sentence as he tries to avoid hyperventilating. His cloudy eyes unfocus even more, and Touya sniffles before mumbling:

“I wanna go home.”

Keigo blinks.

“You are home,” Keigo replies uneasily. 

“I wanna go home and play with Natsuo,” Touya whines like a child, and Keigo’s posture stiffens. 

This happened occasionally…Touya would spontaneously experience regression. It came in waves, only whenever he was under extreme stress. It was a side effect of everything that had happened…hell, it had even happened when he was burning himself to death on the battlefield, fighting his family. Keigo gently spins Touya around and takes his chin in his hands, gently lifting it up to look at him. Touya seems to be staring through him, eyes distant and bottom lip trembling into a pout. A deep intrinsic part of Touya wishes so desperately that he could fully grasp the glow of his lover’s gorgeous golden eyes. His vision hadn’t been the same since Sekoto, but at least before the final war, he’d been able to grasp the beauty of Keigo’s eyes clearly up close.

Keigo remembers the vibrant colors Touya’s eyes used to have, like they held the oceans themselves within them. If he squints, he can still see the turquoise sheen glittering behind the white glaze. Keigo knows if he called any of Touya’s siblings…if he called Rei…that they would rush to aid immediately during one of Touya’s breakdowns. But…he’s not sure he wants that right now. He’s the one who used to be the number two hero. He’s the one that should be helping Touya get through this. With a sigh that holds a thousand words, he pulls Touya in for a hug, one hand at his back and the other at the back of his head, cradling it. 

“I’m right here, Touya. I’m right here,” Keigo whispers, trying to quiet his own vexed mind. Anger still boils in his blood, but…the years that Touya was in rehab, he realized just how much he cared about the ex-villain. He needs help right now…and being angry will just make everything worse.

“I wanna apologize to Mom,” Touya snivels, his voice sounding muffled in Keigo’s chest.

“You already did, baby. Everyone’s forgiven you…I’ve forgiven you,” Keigo hushes, running one hand through Touya’s soft fluffy locks and rubbing his back with the other. Touya shudders, bloody tears dripping down his face and staining Keigo’s sweater as he desperately tries to get ahold of himself. 

“You’re safe, starlight. I’ve got you,” Keigo hums softly, rocking back and forth on his heels as he caresses his lover, trying to provide the comfort he’d been deprived of for the majority of his life. 

“I don’t…feel good,” Touya whimpers, shaking and crying like a toddler as he leans into Keigo’s embrace. His twisted, aching heart that’s been broken and mended through the years throbs in his chest, at risk of shattering yet again. He feels so worthless…he feels…vulnerable…and... 

Keigo senses Touya fully deadweight in his arms…and goes into panic mode. 

“Touya?” Keigo blurts, pushing him backward to look him in the eyes before realizing that Touya fainted. 

“Goddamnit,” Keigo chokes out, tears welling up in his eyes as he pulls Touya close, cradling him as he picks him up off the floor bridal style. Touya’s body hasn’t been holding up very well; what he lacked in physical feeling he made up for tenfold emotionally and mentally…which didn’t bode well when he became so overcome with anxiety that he’d pass out. Keigo stares at Touya’s unconscious form…looking so serene…and so exhausted. Truth be told, he doesn’t know how much longer he has with Touya; if he keeps putting stress on his heart…Keigo doesn’t even want to imagine what might happen.

The blonde grunts as he stands up, walking to the bedroom with the love of his life in his arms. Carefully, he sets Touya down on their bed before walking into the bathroom, running warm water over a rag. He returns to the bedside, gently blotting the streaks of blood off of Touya’s face. Through it all, he never stirs.

“What am I gonna do with you?” Keigo sighs as he stares at his partner. He pushes the snowy strands of hair plastered to Touya’s sweaty forehead out of his face. He hates this situation…the rampant raging hellstorm that their lives have always been…that they will forever be…and yet…their love transcends it all. Through the unrelenting torrent, their love prevails. Fate has tried to tear them apart over the years…throwing them in opposite directions and snapping them back together in an explosive apocalyptic collision. Somehow, they always find each other when the smoke clears, running back to embrace in the middle. 

Keigo climbs into bed beside Touya, resting on his side to watch over him, eyes locked on the simple staggering rise and fall of his chest. Keigo pulls the comforter over the both of them, scooting closer to press a soft kiss to Touya’s temple.

“I love you…so much,” Keigo murmurs wistfully, golden eyes softly boring into the ex-villain. His heart twists…the hospital workers and rehabilitation staff keep insisting that Touya will still live a full life despite everything that’s happened, but that doesn’t stop Keigo from worrying. Ever since the war, his optimistic persona has disintegrated. 

He’s lost everything…his mentor…his career…his Quirk…his family…his life…he can’t lose Touya, too…

…

…

When Touya regains consciousness, it’s already the next morning. He slept through the night after passing out; his body desperately needed a recharge. The white-haired man sleepily blinks awake, turning to see Keigo sitting up next to him in their bed, eyes glued to the TV as he sips a cup of coffee. What Touya can’t see are the dark circles under Keigo’s sunken eyes from staying up all night watching over his partner. The blonde’s attention flickers to Touya immediately, and he reaches over, grabbing a bottle from the nightstand as he helps Touya sit up. 

“Drink,” Keigo mumbles, his voice scratchy and breathy. Touya eagerly takes the bottle and gulps it down slowly. Whatever it is, he can’t taste it, but it makes him feel like he’s alive again. The memories of last night come floating back into his mind, and Touya takes a deep breath, trying not to dissolve into another fit. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispers under his breath, but Keigo doesn’t answer. He sits with it, letting the past twelve-something hours settle deep and heavy in his chest. Keigo leans over Touya, cupping the side of his face before tenderly connecting their lips. Touya shudders, hands instinctively wrapping around the back of Keigo’s neck, massaging the scar that spreads down to his entire back. His gut reaction every time Keigo kisses him is to pull him close…close as humanly possible…to make sure he never pulls away first. After a few seconds, Touya releases his grip.

“You weren’t the one who took my wings. All For One did. Please…don’t blame yourself,” Keigo sniffs, swallowing hard. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Touya…not right now. Touya inhales sharply, trying his best to listen to Keigo’s words…to believe them…and ignore what his own darkness vehemently reminds him. 

“I…I love you, Keigo…I promise…I really do love you,” Touya’s voice breaks, speaking with his tattered heart.

Keigo, once again, doesn’t answer him right away. Keigo knows how much Touya loves him… how much he’s always loved him. If he didn’t, Keigo’s betrayal during the Paranormal Liberation War wouldn’t have affected Touya so viscerally. If he didn’t, they wouldn’t be sitting in this bed together after everything they’ve been through. Their relationship is…complicated. It’s always been complicated. Touya and Keigo are two separate sides of the same coin…of course it’s not going to be easy. Keigo knew this when he’d decided to show up with flowers when Touya graduated rehab. Keigo knew this when some of the most instrumental people in his life tried to talk him out of it. Despite everything, they are making this chaos-filled trainwreck work. And, most importantly…they’re both trying. They both want the trainwreck to work. Keigo brushes back Touya’s hair from his face before murmuring:

“I love you too, firefly.”

[wispofthevalley]

Rg drabbles #2: Preparation

Oscar took a deep breath, steeling himself before he raised a hand towards a heavy looking wooden door. He was alone now, Aunt em having turnt back after helping him carry the load, if he looked back he could probably spot her but it wouldn’t be long now before she was out of sight. 

He hesitated, wanting nothing more but to turn his back to the door and call her back to help him, but he wouldn’t, he had to do this alone. Realistically, he didn’t have to and Aunt Em would gladly help him if he booked it down the road to catch up to her and asked. Even if it would ease some of his anxiety, it felt weird to ask her for help with this part. She had helped enough already.

Before he could chicken out any further he rapped his knuckles on the door thrice, waiting for a response. And then waiting some more, and a little more, for a response that didn’t come. He stood there in awkward silence with nothing but his thoughts for a good bit, when he realised he should probably knock again.

And so he knocked, harder this time.And then proceeded to have his soul forcibly stripped from his body when he felt a hand come down on his shoulder.

“Oscar!” Taiyang said enthusiastically, patting him on the shoulder.

“Ah, good after- good morning Mr. Xiaolong,” he stuttered out, face already starting to flush from embarrassment.

“Sorry I didn’t hear you earlier, I was out in the garden. These plants won't take care of themselves ey?”

“It’s fine, I haven’t been here for long anyway,” he reassured him, waving off the apology.

“Excuse me,” he says, stepping around Oscar to get to the door before he unlocked it and made his way inside. “Aren’t you gonna come in?!” Taiyang called out from inside.

“Coming!” Oscar startled, closing the door behind him after he hurries inside and slips off his outside shoes.

He slowly made his way into the house, stopping in the middle of the living room unsure of what to do before Taiyang popped out from the kitchen carrying a tray that he rests on the table.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, come now have a seat,” he said, gesturing for Oscar to take a spot on the couch before sinking into a corner of the couch himself.

“Ah, thanks!” He blushed before rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, dreading bringing up today’s topic. “Did you have a reason to visit or did you just come to keep little old me company?” Taiyang teased, looking thoroughly amused at Oscar’s shyness.

The embarrassed flush spreaded to the top of Oscar’s ears before he placed a potted plant on the table next to the tea tray and slowly pulled out two ornate looking bags both green in colour with yellow embroidered details running along the seams of the bags before offering it to Taiyang. “Thank you?” Taiyang’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he accepted the bags, the first one being much heavier than the second.

Oscar cleared his throat, steeling himself before he started “Sir, I’ve come here today to ask-to ask for your daughter Ruby Rose’s hand in marriage” 

He gestures to the gifts before continuing “The plant is almost mature and should be able to bear strawberries by next spring, the first bag has a few pieces of uncut jade and- and silver jewellery. 

He clasped his hands and looked down to his lap, “The second has fresh tea leaves, and a few sweets I made- well tried to make myself.” The last part of his sentence is quieter than the first.

“Oscar,” Taiyang prompted, waiting for him to look up.

“I would be happy to have you as my son, just as I’m sure Ruby would be elated to have you for a husband,” he started gently before he clasped Oscar’s hands in his. Oscar looks up, surprise coating his face. 

“Are you- are you sure?” He asked almost incredulously, eyes wide and mouth dry. “Of course, as well as the fact I’m sure Ruby would try and convince Yang to help set something on fire if she ever found out I had said no”

“Oh gods, I forgot about Yang!” Oscar exclaimed, dragging a hand down his face right before the doorbell rang. “Well would you look at that! Perfect timing, now’s your chance.” Taiyang chuckled, getting up to peer out the window.

“Looks like Yang’s here,” he said just before the lock rattled and someone cursed outside.

Oscar silently resigned himself to a fiery death, via Yang.

Surprisingly, that didn’t happen at all, in fact by the end of the day she was just about his biggest supporter. (Y'all want the proposal fic?? lmk)

[kkaisarion]

lay me down

some raindrop hurt/comfort for @forlorn-crows aftercare prompt. because sometimes sex doesn't go quite as planned, and that's okay.

rating: explicit pairing: dom dew / sub rain word count: ~1000

read on AO3 or below

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

“I want you to treat me rough tonight.”

As Dew walked down the hallway toward Rain’s bedroom, he thought back to the water ghoul’s words from earlier. Rain had sidled up next to him in the kitchen, whispering them shyly in his ear. Dew had immediately felt a pang of want inside and smiled dangerously. “Be careful what you wish for, Rainy,” he told him, his dark tone at odds with the chaste kiss that he placed on his cheek.

Dew reached Rain’s door and raised his hand to knock, but then stopped. Changing his mind, he wrenched the doorknob open and barged in without announcing his presence, ready to stalk up to Rain and pull him forcibly into a deep kiss.

Instead, Dew stopped short at the sight before him. Rain was naked on the bed, draped seductively against a mountain of pillows. His half-hard cock lay invitingly in the crease of his hip, and the pale expanse of his skin was unmarred, just begging for Dew to cover it with bruises.

“Fuck, Rain, you’re such a slut,” Dew growled, stripping his clothes off as he strode over. “You couldn’t even wait for me?”

Rain shook his head and spread his legs open so that Dew could settle in between them. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he breathed against Dew’s lips, grinding up against him.

Things moved quickly after that. Rain was so keyed up already, it didn’t take long for Dew to reduce him to a trembling mess. And it didn’t take much to make him start crying, either, not after Dew shoved his cock into Rain all the way to the hilt, without any warning.

Now, Dew looked down at Rain as he fucked into him, drawing a choked-off gasp out of him with each hard thrust. A long line of bite marks decorated his neck and ran down his chest, each of them placed lovingly by Dew to stake his claim on the water ghoul.

Suddenly, Dew lifted his hand and slapped it hard across Rain’s cheek, making his head whip to the side. Rain let out a cry of surprise and gave Dew a wide-eyed look. Pre-cum leaked out of Rain’s cock as he jerked his hips up to meet Dew’s next thrust.

“Look at you, you’re loving this,” Dew groaned and hit him again, on the opposite side.

“No, don’t,” Rain moaned, clutching Dew’s hand tight. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

Rain’s protest hit Dew like a truck. Objectively, he could see that Rain was enjoying himself. Still, Dew’s hips stuttered before he quickly tried to recover and settle back into an even rhythm.

“Dew, are you okay?” Rain asked, panting a bit.

“Yeah,” Dew heard himself say. “Of course I am.” He had to be, right? He was supposed to be the one in charge here.

But Rain wasn’t buying it. He pushed Dew backward to make him pull out, and then sat up and brought his hand up to gently cup Dew’s face.

“You look like you’re about to cry,” Rain said, tilting his head.

Was he? “No, I’m not,” he denied, even as he heard how thick his voice had gotten.

“Dew, baby,” Rain murmured, looking at him with those calm blue eyes of his that made Dew want to dive in and get lost in them forever. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please?”

“You were begging me not to hurt you,” Dew said in a small voice. “I would never hurt you, not actually.”

“Oh,” Rain realized, and suddenly Dew was being dragged over and manhandled into Rain’s lap. He resisted at first, still trying to cling onto the notion that they could just keep going, but then gave up and collapsed into Rain’s arms.

Rain pressed a kiss into Dew’s hair and held him tight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he said.

“I know,” Dew said, not entirely believing him.

“Listen, Dew,” Rain insisted, drawing his head up so that they were looking directly at each other. “You were making me feel good. I know you’d never actually hurt me, not if I didn’t want you to.”

“Really?” Dew searched Rain’s eyes for the truth, and found so much love and affection in them that it made his heart squeeze.

“Yeah, really. You always take such good care of me, I know I’m safe with you,” he said, making Dew let out a low whine and burrow into his neck.

The two of them sat there for a while, Rain running his hands soothingly up and down Dew’s back. Eventually, their breaths evened out and fell in time with each other.

When Rain started to lean back, Dew panicked and gripped his arm. “I’m just going to get a towel to clean us up,” Rain told him, but Dew refused to let go. So instead, Rain grabbed a discarded shirt off the bed and used it to wipe both of them down.

“Do you want some water?” Rain asked as he reached over to the nightstand and picked up a glass. “It’s been sitting there for a couple of days, though,” he warned as Dew took it from him.

“Gross,” Dew muttered after taking a sip of the stale water, but then shrugged and gulped down the rest.

Dew lay down and tugged Rain along with him, so that the two of them were on their sides facing each other, legs tangled together. Feeling calmer, Dew stroked his thumb across Rain’s cheekbone and softly kissed the spot that was still pink from earlier.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted,” Dew started to say, but Rain drew him into a long kiss to stop him from apologizing more.

“We’re going to do this again another time,” Rain promised. “We’ll make it good for both of us.”

Dew trailed his finger lightly along the bruises on Rain’s neck, already imagining all the different things that he wanted to do to him. Rain gave him a small smile, as if he could tell what he was thinking. Then Rain leaned over his ear and said something so filthy, it made Dew blush.

“Would you like that?” Rain grinned.

“Yeah,”  Dew swallowed hard. “Tell me more,” he whispered, and Rain did.

[whumpbot]

WhumpAI Prompt #15

Content : Forced Comfort | Drowning(Forced) | Implied drugging | Bath tub | Captivity

Whumpee sat frozen in the bathtub, their body tense and naked, clutching their trembling knee. The realization of Whumper's ability to forcibly strip them and the fear of their presence outside the tub sent chills down Whumpee's spine. Whumper hummed cheerful tunes while leisurely rubbing shower gel onto a sponge, occasionally directing a gentle stream of water from the showerhead to their own body, and rubbing shampoo into their hair.

The massage on their scalp was oddly soothing, but Whumpee’s wariness only grew; they had learned that letting Whumper's hands come near their head, or anyone's for that matter, was a bad idea. "Does the water still sting the wound?" Whumper inquired, snapping Whumpee out of their thoughts.

Shaking their head, Whumpee hoped to end the conversation quickly. But before they knew it, Whumper's hand grabbed their foamy hair and yanked it backward, causing them to strain to stay upright in the water. Fear surged through Whumpee, but they suppressed the urge to panic or thrash around, remembering the warnings they had received. "Whumpee, that's not how we answer people in this house," Whumper remarked, their voice laced with a chilling reprimand.

Struggling to calm their fearful panting, Whumpee swallowed hard and replied, "No, sir, it doesn't hurt the wound." They held onto the edges of the tub tightly after their head was released, nearly slipping beneath the water's surface due to the sudden movement. Whumper continued the head massage, their touch oddly soothing. "Well, it's your first bath here, I guess the cut healed" Whumper said, their voice surprisingly gentle. "And Whumpee?"

"Yes, sir?" Whumpee replied, their voice filled with trepidation.

"You spat out the drug, didn't you?" Whumper's question hit Whumpee like a punch to the gut.

Whumpee's eyes widened in horror, the truth hanging heavy in the air. "You're way too jumpy. There's no way you'd have the strength to hold yourself like that. And you made my clothes all wet," Whumper remarked, a hint of annoyance in their voice.

Whumpee turned, their mouth forming the beginning of an apology, but before they could utter a word, everything blurred, and the soapy water burned their eyes. Whumpee found their face forced underwater, held down by their own hair. They thrashed, desperately trying to pry away their captor's hand, but they were too strong. Panic washed over them, registering the situation as their chest started to burn and water entered, further burning their nostrils. Whumper shifted to stand up from where they sat, using their body weight to hold the head under the bathtub, staring in rage and ignoring the splashes of water that now spread all over the room, including their shirt.

Whumpee felt another pain as their hair was yanked up, forcefully emerging their head to the surface. Finally, air. Precious air. They gasped and choked, coughing up bitter water from their throat that didn't seem to end.

Whumper's face loomed in, too close for comfort. "Hmmm. But that was a pretty weak resistance, even for you. Wait, let me just—"

"Wait! No—" Whumpee entered the water again with a splash, mid-coughing, now inhaling more water than before. They couldn't find the energy to thrash again; all of their muscles were cramping, and everything was heavy. Then came the calm, amidst the panic, a millisecond of warmth as they felt the water envelop them. Somehow, the water felt almost peaceful, neutral, constant, especially compared to the unpredictability their captor had been showing these last few days. The idea of releasing their grasp and giving in to unconsciousness tugged at them.

Then their chest pounded, and fear surged again, but now Whumpee couldn't remember anything besides the fear. They just knew their throat and nose were burning, and they didn't like it, and everything was fading to dark.

The next thing they heard was the urgent and demanding voice of Whumper. "Whumpee! D-- -ou -ake -ugs--" and they snapped back, their head held above water by a forceful hand, pulling it to the side of the tub. Whumper's slap prompted another nauseating cough. "Answer me! Did you take the drug after all?"

Whumpee's terrified face struggled to form words, gasping for air, their mind fractured, and their neck almost hurt too much to nod. Whumper squinted, clearly skeptical of their response. "Are you lying?" they questioned, bringing Whumpee's head dangerously close to the edge of the water. Whumpee shook their head vigorously as their chin touched the surface.

"Oh. Okay. I'll go grab some dry towels," Whumper non-challantly announced, shaking off their finger from Whumpee's hair, making their captive's torso slipped into the bathtub. Whumpee thrashed again and propped themselves up with trembling hands, finding the room empty when they emerged, steps of Whumper fading outside the door. Again, Whumpee hyperventilated, swallowed, and gasped again, holding their aching chest and throat. Then choking coughs turned into sobs.

Choking back tears and hugging their arms to fend off the cold, Whumpee would soon be terrified of baths.

[tieflingkisser]

Israeli army carries out random killings, new forced displacement campaign in Gaza City’s Zaytoun neighbourhood

Palestinian Territory - As part of its ongoing military operation in Gaza City, the Israeli army carried out a second day of random killings in the city’s southeastern Zaytoun neighbourhood. Israel’s clear aim is to imposea new forced displacement campaign, destroying Gaza City and the Gaza Strip’s northern region, and evacuating its residents. The Israeli army conducted its second military operation in less than three months in the Zaytoun neighbourhood. Amid heavy Israeli air and artillery attacks, a military ground incursion, the forced evacuation of hundreds of families, and the bombing of residential squares, Palestinians in the area are struggling to survive. The neighbourhood, which is thought to be among the most densely populated areas in the Strip with an estimated population of 78,000, was previously targeted by the Israeli army in numerous airstrikes prior to the new ground assault. The ongoing bombing is said to have resulted in numerous civilian deaths and injuries, while ambulance crews have encountered difficulties in reaching the victims. Reports also affirm that displaced people have also come under Israeli gunfire. Forty-two-year-old Zaytoun neighbourhood resident Ibrahim Fathi Yassin told Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor that he and his family were forced to evacuate to a shelter in a school due to intensive shelling. However, they were targeted by an Israeli quadcopter and hit while walking down Totah Street, which resulted in Yassin’s injury and the death of his father, who was left bleeding at the scene due to the heavy gunfire. Another displaced resident, Muhammad Al-Baba, told the Euro-Med Monitor team that residents of the Zaytoun neighbourhood came under intensive shelling on Friday morning, forcing them to leave their houses. While searching for a safe haven, they were targeted by an Israeli quadcopter. At least one member of the Abedfamily, a girl, was killed during the attack. Al-Baba further noted that the Israeli army also attacked scores of displaced people taking refuge in the Shuhada Zaytoun School, resulting in numerous casualties. Notably, the targeting did not spare the carts that the residents depend on for��movement during the displacement process. Talal Saeb Al-Harazin told the Euro-Med Monitor team that he and his nephew suffered moderate and serious injuries while trying to flee their home in the Zaytoun neighbourhood after being targeted by at least three artillery shells. The shells caused major destruction in the area. By expanding the buffer zones it creates inside the Gaza Strip to strengthen its military position in the Netzarim axis—separating the north and south of the Strip—the Israeli army is able to commit more killings, cause more destruction, and displace more individualsin an effort to escalate its genocide against Palestinian civilians and impose a fait accompli. This has been going on for weeks in places like Al-Mughraqa and the Nuseirat refugee camp in the central Gaza Strip. Israel continues to break international law by committing crimes against humanity, war crimes, and grave violations against the Palestinian people, primarily in the Gaza Strip. Prompt international action is therefore required to end to Israel’s genocide and campaign of forced displacement against the Strip’s population, which violates international law and amounts to the crime of forcible transfer. Civilians are still being evacuated from their homes and shelter centres without being provided a safe place to stay, and are instead being left out in open spaces without any facilities to supply basic necessities for life and safety, or security during their displacement. In addition, homes, gathering places, and residential neighbourhoods are being systematically and widely destroyed by Israel, depriving forcibly displaced people of a realistic timeline in terms of when they can expect to be safe.