Thinking about my Jon and Sasha agenda again. I just think they are very much kindred spirits, both weird little eye freaks, who understand each other.
So Sasha knows Jon can be her good little kitten, giving him a pretty collar. Knowing sometimes he’s going to scratch and hiss, because it’s all too much, but that’s okay because she’s patient.
Jon curling up with his head in her lap, letting her pet him, because she respects his boundaries when he needs her to.
skiesandcandy:
skiesandcandy:
skiesandcandy:
Sorry for the JH kick they suddenly grabbed me by the throat.
Two victims making each other worse accidentally and then on purpose egging each other on into becoming perpetrators and fucking nasty about it. Sometimes I think it’s not really a dom sub thing more so just. Two awful awful people so so curious about each other…Jon trying to explore her figure her out make sense of her clearly inhuman form but it just gets more confusing the more he tries until he’s all whiny and frustrated and helens laughing at him and saying she told him so, she thought he would’ve learned by now. Jon being sooo stubborn <333 idk I think it’d be very fun for jon to be confused by whatever the fuck the distortion got going on. And i think it’d be very fun if helen began to be fascinated by his own eye bullshit, not becaude of the eye but because it’s Jon and it’s a little odd how it shaped the man who comforted her all that time ago…idk. weird fucked up intimacy. I want love confessions that sound like death threats. Love confessions hidden under layers of detachment and monstrosity. I want Jon to say “you don’t make me a good person.” And Helen to laugh and say she could say the same about him. I want Jon to wonder if how she turned out is his fault. And I want him to decide he can’t ever lose her, not again. Okay? Okay.
I WANT!!!! I want Jon to not want to end the world but stop caring about being human. About morals. He’ll try to keep the world in tact but he’s done and he’s tired and when the guilt is too much he opens her door and steps inside where everythings too much to even begin to worry about it. He asks when the guilt stops and she tells him when he chooses to stop it and I think he should tell her out of nowhere “I believe you.” because he was thinking of how he didn’t believe her before but now that he’s This. This thing. And yet somehow still Jon. He thinks he understands now. How you can be eaten alive by something and become the thing eating other people alive. How something can kill you and claim you as a part of it and yet you somehow still remain You. I’m thinking about Jon after a fight in the archives hearing a door open and immediately let out a sigh of a relief before remembering oh god it’s helen she’s gonna be annoying and groaning and she should laugh her ass off about it. Kiss all over his face and make fun of him. She should say he makes it hard not to keep him in her corridors forever. He should be scared shitless one day she will yet he can’t help but open that door when sometimes it’s just so easy there. When nothing makes sense. When he just. Embraces not being able to comprehend, having something deeply wrong with him, when it’s not safe but secure. When it hurts too much to think so he can just shut down in her walls. Submit to the overwhelming sensations. Do you think she ever desperately wants it to be understood what parts of her are helen do you think she ever lets him See them. Do you think his eyes get intense and she wonders if he’s about to go back on believing her and he just has this … awe. The same guilty awe he has of so many monstrous things as he murmurs “You’re beautiful”, as he runs his hands along her changing confusing body so intent on understanding it, on somehow figuring it out, even though she knows he never will. Never will fully understand her because it’s not in her nature, and yet now it seems he’s committed himself to doing so. I just. I’m thinking
See now I’m thinking about jh fauxcest. Jon thoughtless and panting, pain and pleasure so overwhelming that he can barely even remember his name, Helen tenderly reaching into one of the wounds on his stomach, softly stroking inside, even as- as something (cock? fingers? tongue, somehow?? Jon doesn’t know…) fucks deep into his cunt. Convincing him that she’s his mom, here to take care of him. She loves her son so much. And he’s so sweet and cute, isn’t he? No idea what he needs but that’s okay <3 because she knows what he needs. The thing in his cunt pulsing, twisting, Jon letting out a broken moan. He should listen to his mom. Doesn’t she know best? He’s clearly in no fit state to take care of himself… and Jon isn’t sure he believes it but something is touching him inside just right and he feels so good and it hurts and he can’t think and how would he know? Doesn’t it feel good to let his mom take care of him? When he’s so weak and helpless like this? Mindless with the painpleasurepain?
-Sparky
(a little worried this one might be a bit too far lol. Hope it’s okay?)
skiesandcandy:
Are you kidding this is SO good oh my god. Ohhh my god. This could fix him. Helen cooing over him injured and trembling and saying oh, that looks like it hurts so badly, doesn’t it? Poor thing. He’s so lucky his mom’s here to take care of him. He’s so overwhelmed with the constant twisting and growing thing inside of him and her voice feeling like it’s drilling into his skull and nothing makes sense, nothing feels real, and it’s just so easy to cry for his mom. Oh, maybe it’s not real, but how would he know? He doesn’t know anything anymore. Doesn’t even know where he is or who he is or what’s inside of him what’s hurting him so bad and making him feel so so good, what’s going far far deeper than it should making his whole body tremble with want. Nothing makes any sense and it all feels so incredible and trying to make sense of it hurts and makes him so so confused and she calls him her baby boy her son and it feels good, he likes it, he can’t believe anything but he can let the feeling of pure joy and arousal and terror and agony wash over him until it all feels like the same thing. Until he can’t tell the difference and he’s just a cute little toy begging for his mom to hurt him the way he needs, and she does because she loves him sooo much, because she wants her baby boy to be happy <3 even when he doesnt know anything at all and has forgotten everything but the feeling of her the sharp angels feeling like they’re tearing what’s left of his common sense to shreds. I’m really normal and so is jon. Jon is not having any realizations about himself and will not have wet dreams about this ever. He will not think about how overwhelmingly full he felt how he was almost terrified of what it was going to do to him yet couldn’t stop begging for more, needing to know how she’d ruin him, unable to help himself. Didn’t know what it’d do or what to do with himself so he needs his mom to do everything, because he can’t remember anything because it hurts sooo bad and it’s so hard to think. This thing that feels like it’s going to change him forever and he doesnt know what it’s doing just that it hurts and it’s so so deep it shouldn’t be able to go that deep, or maybe it should, how would he know, he doesn’t know anything anymore, it’s so confusing, and it feels so good and his mom’s telling him it’s okay and doesn’t that feel so good doesn’t he like it doesn’t he want more isn’t he so lucky to have his mom here to keep him from getting all confused. He’s normal about it.
Im gonna be thinking about helen "teaching him to hunt" forever now ohh my god. Showing him how to really scare someone. Showing him how to be more dangerous. Feeding those impulses and thoughts he's so ashamed of. Encouraging them. Doesn't he want to feel better?? Why hate himself so much for it when he knows he's gonna do it again. Should be so delighted when he starts going behind the others backs more,, feasting on her victims fear and who would believe them?? Helen should coo over him when he's fresh off a statement,, ask him doesn't that feel better. Jon begrudgingly admits he does. He doesn't bother to keep up his insistence evrytime that this is the last time he does this. That he'll do better. They both know he won't. He sits outside her door after feeding, feeling full enough to think for the first time in weeks, and she runs her hands down his back, cooing over how sensitive he gets like this,,, I just think. They
- skiesandcandy
@skiesandcandy Have my possessed ramblings
Jon felt sick, no that was a lie, it would be easier if he still felt sick after tearing the fear out of someone. Instead he just felt full, like he had eaten the perfect dinner, it should be horrifying. It wasn’t. He wished feeding come with sudden clarity, it was easier when he was operating on instinct, he just wants to forget.
Considering the tracks of his thoughts he isn’t even slightly surprised to feel the brick wall behind him is no longer that, smooth wood replacing the rough bricks. Though he couldn’t possibly know when that change had actually occurred, maybe the door had always been behind him. Without conscious thought he reached behind himself pushing the door open, so his back now faced an empty hall.
Well not empty, as Helen embraced him from behind, wrapping herself around him. Size was never consistent from the distortion, but Jon could always count on feeling enveloped be her. Not like the buried where he felt crushed, just cradled and held, safe.
He probably shouldn’t feel safe, Helen was a monster, but well Jon was one too wasn’t he? Hadn’t he just proved that?
“Twisting yourself up nicely I see,” Jon had long ago stopped flinching at the echoing quality of Helen’s laugh, finding it more of a comfort than anything. He did flinch as one of her knife-like fingers caressed his stomach. The flesh there no longer concave, but swelling slightly, especially so soon after a meal.
“Doesn’t it feel better though? Not to be hungry?” Jon just let out a small whimper and didn’t struggle as she pulled him back, sliding out of the alley, and into what appeared to be a room straight out of a catalogue, if the person who had designed it had also been the embodiment of mental illness. Helen had no trouble maneuvering him, settling the pair of them on a couch, well it was a couch if Jon didn’t focus on it, he didn’t want to get a better look at what he saw out of the corner of his eye. Jon let himself be cradled in her lap on the not-couch, one of her hands continuing to stroke his stomach.
“Such a good boy, taking care of himself,” Jon blinked, it was always so hard to focus inside Helen, it was nice, like all the thoughts in his head were popping like soap bubbles. He tried to correct her, but the bubble that had the reason why he wasn’t good was particularly delicate and metaphorically popped before he could grasp it. Or was it literal, he was inside the distortion, maybe his thoughts really were bubbles. “So proud of you hunting all on your own instead of mummy having to bring you food.”
“Let me reward my special boy,” The thought of whether his brain was made of bubbles was forgotten as Helen’s gentle caress turned sharp. He could see blood dripping down his stomach now, when had his shirt been removed? The thought popped as well as Helen dig the tips of her fingers deeper, making Jon keen. It hurt, it hurt so bad, but the part of his brain that was twisted up and confused was purring.
“So cute like this, without all those confusing thoughts,” Jon whimpered as she traced a spiraling pattern over his skin, her expression soft, even as she tore into him. Jon tried to move his arm, to press his own fingers into the newly made cuts, but the not-couch seemed to have developed restraints, keeping him pinned, as the world shifted around him. He wasn’t on the not-couch anymore, or maybe he was and it was now a table, though a soft one, and had never been a couch in the first place. He still couldn’t move his hands, and squirming produced nothing more than making Helen’s fingers go deeper.
“Careful, just be good for me,” Jon leaned his mouth to complain that he was being careful, she was the one cutting him, only to yelp as something less sharp, but insistent, pressed between his legs. Jon had no idea when his pants had gone the way of his shirt, but Helen’s tongue had no boundary between it and his cunt.
Jon couldn’t do anything to muffle the string of moans and whimpers he made as the Helen’s tongue, which was suddenly far too long, or maybe it had always been that long, slipped inside him. The contrast of her fingers still slicing into him and her tongue pressing deep inside him had him clenching up, and when her other hand, luckily not the sharp points of it, tugged on his clit, his organism hit him like a train. His thoughts all popping at once, leaving him weak and pliant, even as Helen didn’t stop.
“Such a good baby monster,” It wasn’t even surprising at this point that Helen was speaking when her tongue was pressing so deep inside him Jon was concerned he was going to break. After all Helen was all around him, and something so simple as speaking with her mouth full was not even a consideration. Jon tried to comment on it but only nonsense came out of his mouth, and Helen cooed, clearly delighted that his brain wasn’t working. The nonsense syllables were replaced by gasping moans as her fingers sunk deeper through his skin. The last coherent soap bubble thought now gone he let himself fall into the ten sensations of pleasure and pain, everything else falling away.
“It’s okay baby, you don’t have to think here, just let yourself enjoy your reward.”
skiesandcandy:
I love jh as a dynamic of a stronger predator taking someone weaker under their wing,,, hmghfj. I can make him worse but oddly tender….yk??? Yk??? Helen making him worse and delighted when he starts bringing her his victims for her door…saying at least there’s only one and her laughing at him. Saying his attempts at denial aren’t cute anymore. I’m just thinking about. Jon steadily making excuses less and less. Denial slowly fading away. And she knows he’s getting tired of self hatred. Of being miserable. Jon watching her door for longer and longer everytime she leaves. Gazing at the fractals on his arms, tracing the patterns of them. Little spirals and shapes that shouldn’t be able to form so clearly. Thinks about Jon becoming more and more spiral. Thinks about the door seeming to beckon him to follow. To see if he could understand this feeling of alienation that’s followed him all his life.
I dunno. I just think Helen talks about whether or not she was ever michael and it feels too familiar. She talks about her nature and he understands it too well. I think he understood Michael more than he wanted to. The feeling of “nobody will believe you” the fear of being crazy has followed him his entire life. And now there’s this opportunity, what if none of that had tk matter anymore. What if he didnt have to keep trying and failing to be a human, to be normal. What if he didn’t have to get better. What if he just indulged. What if it didn’t matter anymore.
The door hums. It’s cracked open just a bit. Beautiful and confusing patterns flow from behind it. He’s so, so painfully curious what it’d be like without helen there. What he’ll find. And maybe she’ll keep him there a little too long, but what does he have to lose? Who would care?
He goes back to his statement, but the thrum of life and malice behind that door becomes harder and harder to ignore.
Helen treating Jon like a little monster kitten. Dragging it statement givers because of course he doesn’t know how to hunt it’s too little. She isn’t even discouraged when it turns down her food, it’s just a picky eater she’ll find something it can’t resist.
Helen knows what the baby needs, she’s the much bigger monster. Carrying it around because the second she looks away it gets in trouble. Poor thing, practically skin and bones before she decided it was hers.
It’s the runt, and clearly no one taught it when to use its claws. It lashes out at her scratching and biting at what wants to help. It’s okay she has much bigger claws. She knows that it just needs guidance, needs its mama.