#depictions of violence

[mugloversonly]

The Guilt of Courage

written for prompt ‘hole’ wc: #404 | rated: _G_ | set sometime after season 4. Steve has a good mom cw: depictions of violence, angst @steddiemicrofic

~~~

Eddie put a hole in the wall.

As he follows the ambulance to Hawkins Medical, Steve’s filled with guilt…

~~~

Steve paced across the living room as Eddie set the table. His parents were coming home for the first time in months and he wanted to introduce them to his boyfriend. Now that it was time, Steve’s chest felt tight.

Eddie stopped in front of him and grasped his shoulders. “It’ll be alright baby. No matter what happens, we’re in this together.” Steve couldn’t help but smile at that and bend to give Eddie a quick kiss. They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Steve took a deep breath and welcomed his parents in.

“Steven! Lovely to see that you’ve been tending to my rosebushes” his mother said with a hug. “Have you been tending to yourself?” She questioned quietly.

“Of course mother,” Steve replied as they separated. His father followed his mother inside without a word. Steve beckons to Eddie “This is Eddie,” he says, putting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie these are my parents, John and Kate”. Eddie gives his most charming smile and extends his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Harrington”. Kate smiles back and grasps his hand firmly. John shook is hand tightly as if he was trying to intimidate him. Eddie doesn’t flinch as he returns the grip.

“I made chicken Alfredo, the table is all set”. Steve said moving them all to the dining room. Steve and Eddie locked eyes. With a small smile, Eddie nodded giving him his permission. “How was your trip?” Steve asked.

“Fine,” Kate replied, “What’s new with you, darling? Finally dating that Robin girl?” she asked. Steve took a big breath. Now or never.

“No, as I’ve said before, we are just friends. But I am seeing someone.” He cleared his throat. Eddie grabbed his hand under the table for support. He squeezed his hand. “I’m dating Eddie actually.” His mother smiled, but his father’s eyes turned red. He grabbed Steve and shook him, too angry to speak. Eddie jumped into the fray and yanked on John’s arm. He turned on Eddie, shoved him roughly into the wall and his head went through. He stood up quickly and knocked John out with one hit.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, before passing out.

~~~

There’s a hole in the wall, Steve hopes there isn’t a hole in Eddie.

#steddie #steddiemicrofic #angst #depictions of violence

[squealing-santa]

i'll be okay

by: uwu!anon for: music!anon summary: the mission has clearly taken a toll on your mental health a/n: i apologise for the angst and merry (AHEM VERY LATE) christmas!!!! <3 warnings: swearing, nightmares, panic attack, depictions of violence, near-death experience, tickling words: 1.5k

"i'll be okay."

"i'll be okay."

"i'll be okay."

those were the words that you kept telling yourself.

but you weren't okay. and you just might never be.

you woke up drowning in your own cold sweat, hyperventilating like there was no tomorrow, the nightmares burning into the depth of your mind, grabbing away every ounce of sanity you had. there you were, cold and vulnerable, shivering in the blankets which had you sweating but freezing cold at the same time. every time you tried to fight the feeling of being petrified, you failed miserably. and every failed attempt made you tremble in fear.

what is wrong with you?

an avenger, the second youngest one on the team, barely older than peter by a few months. you should be old enough to deal with stupid nightmares. peter would never be like you.

what is wrong with you?

you were trained to do this, shooting enemies and doing heroic missions. all those years of training as a shield agent- why is this so hard for you?

what is wrong with you?

you fucking fought your way to be an avenger. you went from being a normal low rank shield agent to this, outshining millions of other agents- why couldn't you deal with a single, normal mission?

you fought to keep your eyelids open, but they felt like they weighed a million pounds. soon enough, your eyes closed into a deep trance once again, as your latest mission (or nightmare, for that matter) floated right in front of your tired eyes.

"RUN, Y/N! GET OUT OF THERE!" as you heard rogers say distinctly in the earpiece. you bolted, twisting through the maze of endless science products.

behind you, you heard loud footsteps chasing you. at least forty men, you supposed. probably armed.

BANG!

okay, they were definitely armed.

"fuck fuck fuck" you swore under your breath as they caught up with you. you were fast, but apparently not fast enough for a literal stampede of forty armed men.

dodging bullets, you managed to get through the door, sunlight temporarily blinding your eyes. you squinted, jumping down the balcony, feeling the sinking feeling in your stomach and expecting the all too familiar avengers aircraft to catch you perfectly as you landed.

it wasn't there.

screaming and flailing your limbs hopelessly against the air, it was you versus gravity.

guess who won?

"oh shit."

after a while- (a very long while)

"y/n! thank god!" steve's voice ringing in your ears. your head was pounding and you were pretty much really banged up.

"what the fuck was that? weren't you ready to catch me in the air, like we planned?"

"i'm sorry, the helicopter broke down and i crashed straight on the ground right as i saw you dive off." steve stared at you apologetically. seeing your bruises and scratches, he scratched his head sheepishly.

"i'm fine." you reassured him.

but you weren't fine.

you had succeeded in failing your mission AND nearly killing yourself in the process.

the dive of your stomach as you jumped down without a doubt, the fear when the aircraft wasn't right there to catch you, the terrified feeling that you were going to die. it didn't just go away.

not to mention the guilty feeling when you didn't grab the science vials and the forever unsatisfied urge for every mission to be a success. you failed.

sure, you knew the risks of being an avenger. but never had you ever been so close to death. and as ridiculous as it was, you had never failed a single mission.

and there you are now, crying and clutching at your chest helplessly, as you fought to forget those simple memories that would haunt you forever.

"y/n?" you heard a voice call out.

you jumped, turning your head. you hated that others could see this vulnerable side of you. normally stoic, unaffected y/n, broken down because of a few bullets and a long fall. pathetic.

you would never be accepted by the other avengers. you didn't have superpowers, nor anything special. even the other human avengers were brilliant. you weren't badass like natasha, or amazing at archery like clint. you were just you. normal. boring. you.

"wanda?" you whispered, trying to hide the trembling of your voice.

"are you okay?" her voice sliced through the awkward tension at 3 am, nearly making the overwhelmed tears rush through your eyes.

"yeah." you took a deep breath and sighed.

"it's okay to... talk to me, you know."

you stiffened, sitting up straight. "i don't need to talk to you. i'm fine."

"y/n." wanda stared at you straight in the eyes.

you didn't return the stare.

at that point, warm tears had gushed through your eyes, making your entire face a mess. you looked away in embarrassment, rubbing your eyes furiously to stop the long overdue tears from running down your cheeks.

"i'm sorry, i-" you were a loss for words as you tried to pull yourself together. to be seen as a mess in front of your idol, wanda maximoff, was too much too handle. you sobbed, blushing as you felt her gaze staring directly at you.

wanda's lips pulled into a reassuring smile as she held out her arms, raising her eyebrows as if asking for permission to hug you. you hesitantly nodded.

you practically melted into her embrace. this made you realise how much you missed physical affection. your family was never the touchy type, and training to be a shield agent wasn't exactly, well, lovely.

wanda couldn't help but let out a giggle at how you reacted to her simple gesture. you playfully glared as she rubbed her hands comfortably up and down your back.

she never asked about what happened, or why you were crying. never forcing your boundaries or triggering you again. but her message was clear: i'll be here for you no matter what happened.

at that moment you felt like you would be okay.

until the fingers started rubbing at your sides.

you could feel every one of her fingernails pressing gently into your hypersensitive skin, triggering the nerves in it. you tried not to squirm away, too shy to tell wanda what she was doing to you.

as she continued to rub on your sides, you let the tiniest of squeaks leave your lips.

wanda's fingers stopped.

time stopped.

you gasped inaudibly.

"you're ticklish?" the dreaded question left wanda's mouth.

oh god.

you could practically feel wanda's smirk burning at the back of your head as you covered your face bashfully with your hands.

"no?"

wanda scratched her fingers up and down your sides, eliciting a whole bunch of squeaky giggles.

"that's really cute, y/n"

you looked away, afraid to make eye contact.

"you don't think i'm weak?"

"what? no way! being ticklish is real normal y/n. it's just a human thing!"

she poked at your ribs.

"look at me, you dork. you're amazing, no matter if you have superpowers or not. it doesn't matter how great you are at fighting, or how many missions you've failed. we love you for who you are. and about the post-mission traumas, trust me, i've been through plenty of them. not to mention the time when hydra experimented on me and pietro, and even the time when pietro-" wanda swallowed hardly before continuing.

"there are always some things we can never get over. some losses. some pain. it's all part of our lives and we can't help it. so the only thing we can do is just live through life. i'm not telling you to just brush it off. but you're not alone, y/n. i hope you'll understand. everyone here has suffered through major losses and post-mission traumas. you can talk to us, you know? you don't have to be always reserved and private. we're a family here and that's what matters. we can help you. all you have to do is learn to trust."

"trust." you repeated. "i can do that."

"great." wanda's face broke into a smile. "now let's get you tucked up in bed."

as you went dove back into your bed which wanda had thoughtfully changed the sweaty covers of, you were afraid once again. you wanted to call for wanda, but it seemed unnecessary. you didn't want to seem like a baby.

"trust." you said to yourself. "WANDA!"

and that night, wanda maximoff, the scarlet witch, crouched uncomfortably next to your bed, insisting that she was okay. she held your hand until you fell asleep, brushing your hair out of your eyes, holding you tight.

the next morning, you whispered to yourself, "i'll be okay."

and for once, you really believed it.

#author: uwu!anon #marvel cinematic universe #wanda maximoff x reader #swearing #nightmares #panic attack #depictions of violence #near-death experience #squealing santa 2k22 #ss2k22 #submission #tickle fic #angst and fluff

[sshadowritestoriess]

ANOTHER ONE FALLS

Pairing: Ramattra x Reader

Words: 3490

Chapter: 1/?

Rating: not rated

Zenyatta can only help so much. With as indebted as you feel to him, you can only hope you'll be able to repay his kindness to someone who needs it more.

If only Ramattra would give you a chance.

#overwatch #reader insert #overwatch2 #ramattra #ramattra x reader #ramattra overwatch #fluff #slow burn #fluff and angst #depictions of violence

[fondillusionsofavividdreamscape]

Serial Killer Sword Dream

Some depictions of violence in this one. But that's the way it goes when you hunt down a serial killer, I suppose.

I was working as a policewoman for a local force and was helping a couple of detectives out of a nearby city on a case that we thought might be a serial killer. We were working in the office on putting together a profile for the victims when one of the detectives realized that I fit the profile that we built. I was the type of girl that the guy we were after usually went for. They decided that…

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#blood #depictions of violence #serial killer dream #serial killers #stabbing #swords

[acourtofladydeath]

AZRIS WEEK IS FINALLY HERE!

I will be attempting to post a fic a day for @azrisweek! I’m incredibly excited about my piece for Day 1: prologues and prequels titled “The Soft Heart and The Shadow”. This fic includes graphic depictions of torture, please be advised. Eventual HEA.

Eris makes a deal with Beron to accept all the punishments for his brothers and mother in order to protect them. Azriel just so happens to be spying and witnesses this. Anytime Beron wishes to enact punishment, it becomes Eris’ to bear. What Beron doesn’t know is that Azriel is there in the shadows every time supporting Eris.

#azris week 2023 #azris fanfiction #azris #the soft heart and the shadow #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #eris vanserra #beron vanserra #pro eris vanserra #Beron is an actual monster #depictions of violence #depictions of torture #my work #my fic #i will go down with this ship

[sceescae]

I sew the mallows with marrows; Viscera of unwanted thoughts and sorrow. Lamenting, grieving, with all but tears, We speak in whispers: of Nowhere.

In silence, in fog, do we declare- Of song and dance of wee Nightmare. The little Night we chose to lynch Was but a child: a gasped pinch.

The fog and rain of rusted clinch: A perverse grin- a rusted tinge, And all it took, from our yoke Was but tiny sliver of gold sunstroke.

In rain of ash and dust we woke- Peace and mirth in rights revoked. Tranquil smiles of body unburied, Empty eyes in sins uncarried.

Sing in breezes of misery ferried- Dreaded truths of worldly deities. At Eve comes unwanted morrows, And Sunlight bears the glowing yarrows.

#sceescae #poetry #poems and poetry #original poem #poem #depictions of violence

[headintheclouds76]

The fifteenth chapter of "Wake Up, Cyar'ika" is here! Happy reading everyone at

To start from beginning:

Synopsis: She wakes up in bed, groggy and dazed, to the most peculiar of sights. Her favorite idol, Kylo Ren, dressed in nothing but a terry-cloth bathrobe smiling at her. "Time to wake up, Cyar'ika" he greets before he clicks a camera at her, looking very much like the cat who ate the cream. Hmm… weird… how did she get here…?

#reylo #rey skywalker #ben solo #rock star #groupie #rape #depictions of violence #reylopromo #mine

[alostnarrator]

To Save Yourself- Chapter 1: MIKEY!!

Summary:

What do you do when you wake up in an entirely new world, with a family that isn't really your own? Well, Mikey has no idea, and it doesn't look like Dr. Delicate Touch will be helping his new situation any time soon. As Mikey gets adjusted to this new family he starts to learn more about what his other self has to deal with.

Note: I wrote this well over a year ago. Looking back, I can tell I've improved. Some things to note are that: 1) The way I protray the 2012 family is incredibly out of character/canon and should in no way be interpreted as my actual view on the characters, 2) I do not condone [abuse, neglect, bullying, violence, (implied) trans/homophobia] nor am I trying to glorify future events in the story, 3) the story is a bit fast paced and unclear at times, and I apoligize in adavnce. This story is angst for the sake of being angst, please move on if that isn't your taste. Read tags for more.

Mikey’s head throbbed as he slowly sat up. 

“Aw man!” He hissed while rubbing his neck, “I should not have watched that extra episode last night!” His vision was still blurry as he rolled over the side of his bed. Mikey yawned loudly while stretching, and he blindly reached for his clock. 

“What in the?!” Mikey let out a small scream when his vision adjusted. This wasn’t his room! Suddenly through the wall Mikey heard a gruff voice yell, “Can it, idiot! It’s too early for your shit!” Mikey’s eyes were dinner plates as he stumbled backwards. His hand hit something solid and it clattered to the ground. Picking it up, Mikey’s hands shook as he looked over the picture. It was another turtle in an orange mask, but this turtle was freckled and cuddled a ice cream cat to his face. His finger traced over the freckles on the other turtle. 

“Where the hell am I?” Mikey whispered, pocketing the photo in his pouch once he freed it from the frame. A sudden banging at the door startled Mikey into popping into his shell. Maybe, if he just played it cool, he could sleep off whatever fever dream this was.

“C’mon Mikey,” A new, oddly whiny voice groaned from the other side of the door. 

“Master Splinter wants us to start training today early.” The voice retreated complaining about blueprints and coffee. Mikey heaved in panicked breaths inside his shell. “It’s okay Micheal, you’re Dr. Delicate Touch! You’ve beat up mystic forces and thrown buildings at aliens! Ain’t nothing like a bad dream gunna stop THE Michelangelo!” Victoriously Mikey sprang up, feeling motivated with new vigor. It seemed that he’d need to use his mad ‘squillz’ to get to the bottom of this weird situation. 

Quietly, and oh-so gently, Mikey crept down the short hallway, looking over a large open area. It was, thankfully, devoid of any weird copy turtles, so Mikey decided to just play it cool until he could “properly assess the situation” as D would put it. The slightly shaking turtle followed the sound of grunting and blows landing past what looked to be a subway ticket entrance, and down another small hallway. Surprisingly enough, Mikey found himself face to face with a tree. He could see three other turtles in the room, and a tall and slender rodent mutant watched over them. The rat man sat with a cup of tea, a jade cane of sorts sat within reach. An odd look crossed his face when the oddly familiar red masked turtle pinned the blue one to the ground. 

“No.” He scolded chastly, “Again.” ‘Red’ muttered something angrily under his breath before the two bowed with a quick ‘yes sensei’ and returned to their sparring. 

Mikey hid in the shadows, carefully observing, when he caught the purple masked turtle’s eye. He gulped when a stern look made its way onto Purple’s face, a small hand motion beckoning him forwards. 

“Really Mikey? How mature of you, trying to hide instead of train.” Purple chastised him in a condescending tone. The rat made no move to stop him, so Purple grabbed his staff from where it was sitting and approached him. Mikey’s back hit the tree when Purple lowered himself into a fighting stance. It was seconds before Mikey found the breath knocked from his lungs and his plastron suddenly being very friendly with the floor. 

“OW! What’s wrong with you?!” Mikey yelped as his arm was twisted just a bit too much for his liking. “Donetello.” The voice of the rat seemed to dismiss Purple, or Donetello apparently, and Mikey could breathe again. Just as Mikey was on his own two feet again a firm hand grabbed him by the arm. “Was wondering if you were going to skip out on us or not.” Red, which he guessed would be Raph, sneered at him. “I mean, if you’d rather watch your dumb baby cartoons instead of training like the teenage ninja you really are , then be our guest.” Mean Raph added a ‘it’d just make training better and easier for us’ and said something about babysitting him before rat- Splinter hit him over the head with his cane. 

“Raphael. Do not speak to your own brother in such a way.” He scolded coldly. Splinter nodded at Donnie to get into position and Bl- Leo tossed a pair of nunchucks at him. “You left your nunchucks in the living room, again ” Blatant annoyance was written all over Leo’s face. What was happening? It’s like he was suddenly sucked into another world, cuz he knows his arm still hurts from D, but these were definitely not his brothers. Donnie once again lowered into a fighting stance, the two of them slowly circling around. Mikey silently followed suit, no longer having the energy to fight this entire situation.

- - - - -

“Y-you’re cheating!” Donnie cried out incredulously as Mikey pinned him again. They had spent the last few hours sparring, and none of them reacted well to this ‘sudden change in skill level’. Mikey was confused as to how the supposed ‘other him’ could seriously be weak enough to be pinned by these versions of his brothers. Sure, they were well trained, but their skills were limited to one style of fighting and they were all painfully traditional. Splinter would yell at him for not ‘doing it properly’, even if it meant Mikey would be sacrificing a serious advantage he had over the others. These brothers acted as though he was a co-dependant child, and seriously weak to top it off. Could Splinter really be so blind as to ignore what a step up it would be for them to learn other fighting styles?

After the attack of the Kraang, Mikey and his brothers took it upon themselves to learn new moves. Mikey got really into capoeira, and April taught him a little kickboxing. The orange-clad turtle remembered fondly the following sparring sessions and getting to see just how far everyone had come since they started even playing with the idea of being heroes. He couldn’t let his thoughts distract himself for long though, all too quickly Raph stomped towards him. Splinter’s sharp voice cut through the air like a sharpened knife, “Begin.”

Raph’s moves were predictable, they were aggressive and Raph was far too focused on getting Mikey knocked on his ass. Mikey internally scoffed, even his own brothers would overlook his observational skills sometimes. Course, they wouldn’t get away with that shit. But these guys? Something tells him that their Mikey didn’t get the option to stand up for himself. 

‘These guys are lucky as hell right now!’ Mikey grumbled to himself internally while deflecting another attack, ‘If I was more mentally here they wouldn’t hear the end of it from me!’ Sadly enough Mikey’s emotional and mental functions weren’t “all there” at the moment. A soft whimper left him as he yearned for his brothers. For his bed. For a god damned HUG. It felt like a piece of him got ripped out, and was still back with his brothers. He hated how oddly pliant and ‘checked out’ the harsh words and cold comments from this family made him. It almost felt as though his head was stuffed with cotton, it gummed up his emotional processing and made it harder to think. 

Mikey floated in his mental ocean until he finally heard Splinter dismiss them. For the first time in hours Mikey surfaced, gasping desperately at air he so craved. Internally he gulped down the moments of silence like a man in a desert, his thoughts slowly catching up to him as he sat by the tree to think. Raph and Leo could be heard loudly arguing in the supposed living room about god knows what, and he was pretty sure Donnie had gone off to check his lab for something. As nice as the peace felt, sitting alone in this open room left Mikey feeling more vulnerable than he was comfortable with. 

On his way to the room he woke up in, Donnie stepped in to block his path. Wordlessly he wiped a cotton pad on his face. “Yooo, what’s that for Donnie?” Mikey laughed nervously as Donnie squinted at it. Mikey’s words seemed to register for Donnie as he jumped a little and only spared a short glance towards Mikey.

“O-Oh this? Don’t worry about it Mikey, you wouldn’t understand anyways.” He waved his free hand dismissively as he exited the hall. Donnie had wiped away some of his sweat from the training with that, but why? A sudden figure of his genius older brother appeared in his mind, smugness radiating from him.

“Ah HAH! Finally one of you calls for MY help instead of Mind Raph!” He boisterously bellowed, “So what can I do for you dear Micheal?” The familiar face and name helped calm his mind and put a small smile on his face. “I’m in a real bad twist here bro! This new Donnie is doing a- no doubt- science thing with my sweat! But why?!” Mind Donnie tented his fingers, his meticulously drawn on eyebrows pitching upwards as he pondered the question. “Well,” He said after a solid minute of nothing, “I’ve taught you about this. If this were me, why would I be interested in harvesting sweat samples from you?” Mikey thought hard back to the slightly complicated science lessons from D. Sweat… sweat, what was the use of sweat? 

Mikey thanked and dismissed Mind Donnie as he plopped back down on other him’s bed. Normally Mikey would crank up his mixtape and draw to help him process the information, but now he was left to his own devices. The room was littered with comics and pizza boxes, but Mikey scoped out an ancient box of mostly broken crayons, and some crumpled and stained sheets of paper. Mikey began to softly sketch his brothers while he thought about the cotton pad. He had Raph, April, and Leo roughly drawn when it dawned upon him. “DANA!” He triumphantly yelled, jumping up on the bed and sending crayons flying. “It’s d-n-a, you nitwit.” Mind Donnie muttered half heartedly, no real bite behind his words. The lesson on DNA and its importance came to mind as Mikey stood on the bed. D had taught him about it while testing dads dna compared to the four of them. A sudden pit of dread opened up in Mikey’s stomach as he bolted out his other Mikey’s door. 

“HEEEYYYY Donnieeee!” Mikey sidled up to Donnie’s side, an awkward grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He did his best to lean over the turtle, the height difference only hindering his efforts slightly. Donnie grumbled something under his breath while setting down the vile he had been holding. A tired and irritated sigh left Donnie as he turned to face the “younger” turtle. 

“Michelangelo, what have I told you about coming into my lab?” His voice was soft, but oddly hostile. When Mikey only gave him a small awkward chuckle the taller turtle grabbed the tails of his bandana. 

“Woah HEY-” Mikey panicked as he got dragged from the lad, in his panic he successfully knocked over the weird vile. “Jeez Donnie! Just wanted to ask about….” Mikey carefully considered his words, basing them off of the other turtles expectations on his character, “sciency stuff. Thought you’d be able to do your weird… nerd thing and teach me.” It felt odd to act like this. He felt a little stupid to be honest. Distantly he remembered how his brothers would treat him like a child until he rightly corrected them. He wasn’t a child, nor was he an idiot! It’s not his fault he has a hard time sitting still long enough to pay attention to normal lessons. 

Donnie’s eyes narrowed at him in suspicion. “Is that so? And why should I humor you Michelangelo? Last time you asked for a lesson you got distracted every twenty seconds and messed up my lab!” Mikey was going to need a hoodie if the entire family was going to treat him so coldly all the time. But if this was Donnie, then Mikey knew something he wouldn’t be able to deny.

“I just… I wanna spend time with my bro. I feel like you’ve just been shutting me out Donnie. I need my brother!” Mikey teared up, using this as an outlet to let out some of the pent up emotions he’s had since waking up. The purple masked turtle’s eyes widened a fraction before he hung his head guiltily. “I… I’m sorry Mikey, I had no idea you felt so alone…” Donnie held a hand out, an olive branch. 

- - - - - -

The lesson had actually been fun, Donnie was able to remember to take things slowly and keep them interesting. Mikey found himself genuinely smiling despite his circumstances. Of course, the happy moment couldn’t last forever. 

“Yo Dorkatello-” Raph stopped mid knock as he looked in disbelief between Donnie and Mikey. Raph scoffed and grinned, “Well ain’t this a surprise.” Raph leaned against the door to the lab. Mikey tensed, ready to bolt if this got out of hand. Donnie smiled softly and rubbed his neck.

“Mikey asked for a lesson. It’s been going… really well actually.” Raph let out a huff of a laugh.

“Well I’ll be.” Raph, now standing much closer, patted Mikey’s head. It was a little rough, but he could almost feel the praise behind it. A small blossom of hope bloomed in Mikey, ‘Maybe’ he thought ‘Maybe things won’t be so bad while I’m stuck here.’ 

Raph started for the door, “C’mon nerd, Leo’s got a mission.” Mikey stood to follow, but once they got to the living room he was stopped. “A mission that definitely does not include you.” Raph frowned at him and he began to protest. “Look kid, one good lesson doesn’t change shit. We don’t need to be fighting and babysitting. You’re still under house arrest until we see that you’re finally mature enough to be out with us.” 

The blossom wilted as the two turtles walked towards where the dojo was. Hot, angry tears flooded down his face in rivers. “I am NOT a child.” He hissed with a deadly venom in his voice, but the others couldn’t hear him. He suddenly felt drained, his were like weights as Mikey flopped down on his new bed. He couldn’t help himself anymore as he allowed himself to break down. He sobbed, holding a pillow in his arms as his chest heaved. He’s never felt this hopeless, not even when the Kraang invaded. Not when the shredder almost killed his brothers. Not when Big Mama made New York her new battle nexus. But those times were different, he’d had his brothers by his side in one way or another. He could go and seek out hugs and comfort when the fight was over. 

Now he was alone

Now he had no one to turn to

No one to go to

But… he had to stay determined. His brothers would stop at nothing to find him and bring him home. But until they do, Mikey swore to figure out if it’ll be safe for other Mikey to come back here. Because that's what a hero would do. And he'll be damned if he'd let his other self suffer. 

#Angst #angst with a happy ending #swapped places #heavily OOC representations of the 2012 tmnt family #ooc #implied abuse #referenced abuse #slight descriptions of abuse #twin leo and raph #mikey is youngest #no tcest #alternate universes #blood and injury #angst and hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #brotherly bonding #jonesatello #depictions of adhd #depictions of violence #2012 teenage mutant ninja turtles #2018 tmnt #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #2012 leo #2012 leonardo #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt 2k18 #tmnt crossover #casey jones #2012 april

[randominternetartist]

Of the Fae - Some nice bonding! (ignore the ending /j)

Thank you Mystical and Angel for beta-reading this!

The stranger is kind

Warnings: Minor Character Death, Depictions of Violence

Read on AO3

∘₊✧ : – ⭒ 𓆩✦𓆪 ⭒ – : ✧₊∘

They walk in silence until the two reach a clearing with a cottage in the middle. It’s small and unassuming. The structure has a slanting roof and a chimney. Exactly what Tommy was expecting.

The man leads him inside. They enter a large room with a hallway leading off the side. In the corner of the far wall is a fireplace. Beside it is the kitchen counter. Its surface is clean with only a wooden fruit bowl and knife block on it. Cabinets and drawers lie under the smooth stone countertop. In the opposite corner of the fireplace is a bucket of clear water.

“Would you like something to eat, Tommy?” The man asks, walking towards the fireplace.

Tommy hums a sound of agreement and looks down the corridor. There are three doors, two of which stand face to face. The third door takes up the width of the far wall and leads outside to the outhouse.

“Sit.” The command snaps him out of his thoughts. Tommy looks back and finds the man standing beside the table, a bowl of soup placed in front of one of the seats.

Tommy walks to the table and sits down in front of the bowl. The soup smells wonderful. Tommy eats a spoonful, inspecting the taste. He scarfs down the rest of the soup like a starving man. It tastes so good!

A breathy chuckle sounds above him. "Slow down, kid," the man says, and Tommy realises he doesn't know the man’s name. “The soup’s not going anywhere.”

“What’s your name?” Tommy asks as he slows down his eating. The pot still has soup in it.

“You wanna know my name?” There is an air of amusement in the man’s tone.

“Yeah.”

He huffs out a laugh and pauses for a moment. “I’m known as Technoblade.”

“Techno,” Tommy says, nodding his head.

“Sure,” Techno says, and Tommy goes back to eating his soup.

He eats two more bowls before he’s full. Properly full, to the point that it’s almost uncomfortable. Tommy can’t remember ever feeling like this. His mother had always been separated from the village, so they grew their own food instead of buying it from other people.

The warmth of the fireplace paired with a full stomach, the time of night, and the stress of the day all worked together to lull Tommy into the haze of almost-sleep. He yawned and swayed in his chair.

“Tired?” Techno asked, and Tommy nodded. “Let’s go to bed then, runt.”

Techno walks to the table and holds out a hand. Tommy takes it and lets Techno lead him across the main room, down the hallway, and through one of the doors. The wooden door opens to a small room. There is a shelf with drawers, and cabinets in one corner, a bed with woolen covers, and a fluffy pillow in the other.

“You can sleep here, runt,” Techno says, leading Tommy toward the bed. Tommy yawns and lies down.

Techno turns to leave. “Wait,” Tommy calls after him. Techno turns around with a curious hum. “Can you tell me a story?”

“Of course, runt.” Techno sits beside the bed and tells Tommy about a witch who stole from a fae. How she then promised the fae her newborn. About how she asked for the help of a much more powerful witch to keep the faery away so she could stay with her child.

“But aren’ witches bad?” Tommy asks, voice slurred by sleep.

“Depends,” Techno whispers. “I don’t believe anything is inherently evil.”

Tommy seems to think about that for a moment. “Di’ he eve’ get to ‘em?”

Techno runs his hands through Tommy’s hair. “That’s a story for another time, runt.” He presses their foreheads together “Sleep.”

Tommy closes his eyes and lets himself fall into unconsciousness.

∘₊✧ : – ⭒ 𓆩✦𓆪 ⭒ – : ✧₊∘

Tommy wakes with an echo of his dreams still lingering in his mind; A sweet warmth that made him feel cared for. A rumble of I’ll protect you forever. Knowing that he was loved. Yet a small sensation in the back of his mind; a silent voice that could only be heard in the dead of the night; a voice that had told him to run.

He opens his eyes and notices this is not his room. Then the memories of the previous day crash into him all at once. He's ten now. Making bread with his mum. Going into the forest. Disobeying her. Getting lost. Being found by Techno.

After that, Tommy’s memories start getting a little fuzzy.

He does remember the delicious soup though.

He gets off the bed and walks down the hall, briefly wondering what was behind Techno's door.

Techno is in the kitchen, slicing bread and warming it up in a pan.

Now that it’s day and Tommy isn’t freaking out, he notices some more details about Techno. He is wearing casual clothes: a poet’s shirt tucked into dark brown trousers that are held up by a belt. 

His skin is light, his eyes are dark brown and his hair cascades over his back and shoulders in loose waves made of straight strands shaped by their routine position. 

An intricate gold earring hangs from one of his ears. It’s a chain that connects multiple different piercings. A green jewel sits in the middle of a small gold ornament that hangs from one of the piercings and holds up a part of the chain.

Tommy wonders if the earring is made of real gold with real jewels.

Techno turns around. “Mornin’, Tommy,” he says, interrupting the younger’s thoughts. “Did you sleep well?”

Tommy makes a sound of agreement. “Would you like some bread?” Techno asks after a beat.

“Yes, please!” Tommy says with enthusiasm as he runs to Techno’s side. Techno chuckles and takes the two slices of bread from the pan, placing them on a plate and handing it to Tommy, who very calmly makes his way to the table without running at all.

He sees a jar of a yellowish, orangeish liquid. “Tech-no,” he calls and points to the jar, “what’s this?”

Techno looks his way. “Oh. That’s honey.” He places a cloth over the bread and leans on the counter. “It’s sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

Tommy picks up the jar and opens it. He swirls the liquid around a bit, before tilting the jar over his bread.

“Most people prefer to scoop it up with a knife.” Tommy looks at Techno, blows a raspberry at him, and tilts the jar further. A big dollop of honey falls on his bread. It’s too much honey. He tilts the jar back, but that just makes honey fall on his hand and the table.

“Shit.” Tommy watches the syrupy liquid on his hand fall slowly onto the table. He hears Techno walk closer. He’s angry. Tommy knows it. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I di—”

“It’s fine, runt.” Techno cuts him off and places a hand on his shoulder. But it’s not fine! Tommy swore and spilled his honey. Techno should be angry with him!

Yet, he doesn’t yell or punish Tommy for misbehaving, he simply cleans Tommy’s hand and the table with a damp cloth, tells him to use a knife next time and leaves it at that.

Tommy’s confused, but he doesn’t want to push it.

“Well, you have honey on your bread now.” Techno pulls a chair and sits beside Tommy. “Might as well eat it.”

Tommy picks up the slice and takes a bite. The honey tastes sweet, with the likeness of apple in the background. There is also a sharp edge to it, an unusual feeling that lingers wherever the honey touches. The bread is warm and soft, and its crust is slightly crisp. The excess honey on the bread is thick and syrupy. There are little chunks of crystalized honey and soft bread lost in the otherwise smooth liquid. It sticks to the roof of his mouth, and Tommy has to open his jaw wide to chew the unexpected texture.

Techno huffs out a laugh, watching him with amusement.

Tommy glares at him and sticks his tongue out. It’s covered in honey.

Techno leans back in his chair. “Whadda think o’ honey?”

Tommy nods enthusiastically, and Techno ruffles his hair. “Glad you like it.”

Tommy smiles and takes his time finishing the two bread slices.

Once he’s done, he takes his plate to the kitchenette and places it on the counter. He turns to face Techno. “Thank you for letting me stay with you,” he says, “but can we go find my mother now?”

Techno’s expression changes into a morph of emotions Tommy can’t discern. “Sure. Just give me a moment,” he says, walking down the hall and into his room.

Tommy watches him, wondering again what could be inside Techno’s room. Logically Tommy knows that it’s an average room. Yet the curiosity gnaws at him, and he wants to follow Techno inside.

Tommy can’t do that though. It’s rude, and when he is rude people get mad, and when people get mad… Well, it depends on the person, but if they get mad about him being somewhere he shouldn’t be, they usually kick him out.

This means that since Techno is inside his room at this very moment, he would throw out Tommy immediately, and he won't even be able to look around properly!

Tommy decides not to go. Besides, he wants Techno to like him, and people don't tend to like him if he’s rude and goes into rooms he shouldn’t go into. 

Tommy’s thoughts are interrupted when Techno comes out again. His hair is now braided and his wrist is now adorned with a simple string bracelet that holds a sunflower seed at its center.

“Come on,” he says, opening the front door and looking back at Tommy. “Let's go find your mother.”

Tommy smiles and follows him outside.

Techno doesn’t speak, so Tommy fills the silence with stories. Stories about him, his mother, the other people in the village. Stories he was told, stories he saw, stories only he knows.

All throughout, Techno doesn’t speak. He just inspects the trees and hums along.

Eventually, Techno stops walking. “There, your village is just past the tree line, do you see it?”

“Mhm!” Tommy nods. He can make out some of the buildings.

Techno sighs and turns back. “Alright, runt. See you later.” And he starts walking back to his cabin.

“Thank you!” Tommy yells after him and runs into the village with a bounce in his step.

When he makes it past the treeline, he notices the village is strangely empty, with only a few people walking around. Maybe there’s something going on in the town square?

He finds more people as he walks toward the center of the village. Dread pools in his stomach as they look grimmer and grimmer the closer he gets.

Distinctly he hears shouting. People are chanting over and over. Burn the witch.

Tommy runs, turning the corners and taking shortcuts all for the sake of getting to the square as  fast as possible.

He turns one last corner and the town center comes into full view. There is a sea of people. Almost everyone in the village. Surrounding a pile of wood. In the center of the pile is a wooden pole, a stake, and tied to it, gagged and blindfolded, is Tommy’s mother.

His vision funnels and the crowd’s chant rings in his ears as his head blanks.

“Burn the witch!”

His mother–

“Burn the witch!”

Tied to a stake–

“Burn the witch!”

Surrounded by burning wood–

“Burn the witch!”

He screams.

#fanfiction #dream smp #tommyinnit #child tommyinnit #technoblade #faerie technoblade #minor character death #bondingtime #witch burning #honey #depictions of violence #mcyt fanfiction #Of The Fae #Dark SBI

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Sometimes the price of being a writer is writing things that you cannot stomach.

Will you have nightmares? Yes

Is it worth it? Who tf knows

#I wrote kinda grusome stuff #depictions of violence #and like i’m fine with violence #but there was one part i for some reason HAD to add and i am… not ok #that was not fun #why did my brain make me even think of it? rude

[ffxvreversebang2022]

Today’s team: @itsnevertrulyfinal & @/ZipperNova (Twitter)

The Proposal was written for the FFXV Reverse Bang 2022 and can be found on AO3 here.

Rating: Mature

Gladnis, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Description: The Amicitia and Caelum families have been at war for generations. When the head of each mafia decide to end the feud, a wedding will be used as the contract. Gladio and Ignis don't agree how to handle the arrangement, but one thing is for sure, they don't have any say in it.

#ffxv reverse bang 2022 #ffxv reverse bang #final fantasy xv #fandom event #fanfiction #fanart #mafia AU #arranged marriage #slow burn #depictions of violence #Gladnis

[justhereforkeefe]

Danse Inversee by Nomolosk

#mlb #just read #no powers au #human Tikki #human plagg #reverse crush #adrienette #angst with a happy ending #Lila is the worst #depictions of violence

[cuties-in-codices]

an unpleasant awakening

in a copy of konrad von würzburg's "trojanerkrieg", ca. 1441

source: Nürnberg, GNM, Hs. 998, fol. 15r

#the illustration depicts king peleus being murdered by his daughters at the command of medea #15th century #medieval art #mythology #medieval illumination #medieval #murder #violence #bed #weapons #trojanerkrieg #konrad von würzburg

[gallifreyanhotfive]

#big finish does it like no one else #👌 #doctor who #dw #dr who #classic who #new who #big finish #big finish doctor who #big finish audios #dw eu #doctor who eu #doctor who expanded universe #eighth doctor #ace mcshane #fifth doctor #peri brown #scherzo #natural history of fear #graphic #tw: graphic depictions of violence #description of injury #polls

[citronellals]

easy there, tiger / it's a meat grinder

#depicting zaum use iykyk #sacred and terrible air #hot entropolic summer #PJÕL #püha ja õudne lõhn #tereesz machejek #second piece depicts Some approximation of vidkun. i think the violence is surreal enough to not require a tag but #if it bothers u lmk and ill tag it #doodles

[likealittleheartbeat]

I try to generally be constructive and engaged with the show I love on here, so on this day, I’ll just say that one of the most thematically important aspects for me from the original ATLA is Aang’s emotional core of real shame for running away when he was hurt by the monk’s decision to send him away. People who feel the kind of deep-seated shame that Aang feels from this decision can understand how that kind of all-encompassing shame is not built around a simple failure or a lie they tell themselves; it’s constructed from real misbehaviors and transgressions of their own sense of ethics—lashing out, telling lies, attempting to hurt others intentionally—that then have consequences (abuses, abandonments, or deaths) which seem to far exceed their expectations or even basic logic.

The combination of the misbehavior with exaggerated existential punishments (along with a lack of support and amend-making in the immediate wake of the events) is what transforms a sense of guilt (I fucked up) into shame (I am a forever fuck-up). Then shame, that sense of being a secret monster ‘no matter what I do or how good everyone thinks I am,’ invites all the avoidance strategies (Aang puts on big smiles, makes lots of jokes, constantly tries to make everyone happy, hops from town to town without building deeper connections). One doesn’t want to acknowledge one’s true feelings or let others in to see those feelings and experiences because it’s too painful to face the grief at the same time that you have to look at yourself for being responsible—even when you recognize it wasn’t totally your fault. It’s just that if you had just been good, less emotional, less human, then maybe the world wouldn’t be so messed up. Of course, in a zen view of things, the world will always be messed up in the same way it will always be beautiful. These are constant facts that always coexist in balance, and this is the truth that Aang learns and that undergirds the whole series.

So I always loved that Aang ran away. It was his sin and his salvation. And it becomes this constant tension for the series—he gets hurt in Bato of the Water Tribe and starts to run away from Katara and Sokka, he runs away to the Guru in the Crossroads of Destiny and his best friend is attacked, he and the gaang retreat after the Day of the Black Sun failure, he runs away to meditation in Sozin’s Comet when everyone wants him preparing for war. Aang’s reluctance to be a hero and the attachments and petulance for which he gets criticized are what metamorphasize to become his most noble attributes. They allow him to empathize with others shame and, ultimately, wield the kind of compassion that can deconstruct the power and perfectionism of imperialism.

So yes, Aang ran away from his temple 100 years ago. It wasn’t the mentally healthy choice. It wasn’t the ethical choice. It wasn’t the wise choice. It was human and emotional and shameful and real. Aang is a better character for it. ATLA is a better show because of it. And we are better people when we understand these kind of tragic emotional experiences that people are trying so hard to grow through.

#aanglove #vague posting about the nf adaptation lol #I won’t go off in my posts but I will in my comments #only 17 minutes in tbh #and already amazed at realizing how cool it was that the of series wasn’t told in a linear style lol #I do think the casting department went off for the nf series tho #the kid playing aang is so perf #and all the actors fit their parts so well #but the show doesn’t understand or seem interested in depicting colonial violence at alllll #and the language of the fire nation wanting to ‘take over the world’ is so much more marvel than a colonial rhetoric #and then aang just wanting to ‘go get some air’ to clear his head…😑 #we aren’t allowed to have problematic protagonists anymore I guess #only people with perfect mental health strategies allowed in young adult fiction #because we view fiction from a moralistic standpoint now instead of an empathetic one #but 🤷🏻‍♀️