#finally getting some REAL trigger animation

[obsessive-valentine]

What if when farmer takes his monthly shopping spree with reader stuck sitting in the car they decide that they’re close enough to others to finally escape or tell someone about their situation with farmer.

Escape - Dark-Yandere!Farmer x GN!Reader

Content waning! This isn’t one of my usual soft yans -A lot of threats, gaslighting, acts of and -even more thoughts of- violence and murder. Our usually stoic farmer has reached his wits end when his anger issues are triggered once again and he’ll be sure darling won’t have the gall or means to even think of doing such a thing ever again.

He’d try not to escalate the situation if he didn’t have to but he is capable of murdering your wanna be saviour if it comes down to it, then hiding the body in the pick up truck bed till he gets home to feed it to the dogs.

He tries to contain his anger on the car ride back, until he can put darling away in the shed and have a day or two to reset and calm down, then he goes into victim blaming, fear mongering and gaslight mode to scare darling back in place and will continue doing this for a few days until darling is sure to not even think of such an act again.

Even though there’s no way for them to escape now since he refuses to take darling with him into town for a long long time, instead he locks them in the shed when he has to go into a town.

...

He’d warned you that afternoon before you both got in the old pick-up truck “you’re not to leave the truck, you hear me? If I see you so much as to look out the window to another person there will be hell to pay” he locked the front door of the house and you nodded to yourself. You weren’t sure if you should be exited or nervous, you weren’t sure you wanted to go at all.

Part of you excited to see a town and real people, you’d been isolated with just animals and a kidnapper for so long you’d long given up hope of living a mundane small town life. But all this raised another problem, the temptation to escape. You’d be trapped in the truck alone for some time so you must be able to escape at some point, but if that fails, you’d hate to think what he’d do to you. He has a nasty temper.

Most the ride was landscapes and bumpy roads, you knew it’s impossible to walk all this way but you’ve thought about it before, you’d run as far as you could and then lay down on one of the country roads when you get to exhausted and hope someone (other than him) finds you. But you’d never get passed the dogs, it was still devastating to be reminded how far from the towns you were.

The closer to the town you both got houses started popping up, quaint little cottages with pretty little gardens and fences. You day dreamed what it would be like to live there with a loving husband and a happy little family, maybe you’d keep chickens in the back and drive into town for work in a flower shop or small caffe.

You stopped yourself before you became to attached to a life that not yours to live, instead you continued to toss around the idea of escaping, running through dozens of possibilities and outcomes. Still unsure if you’d have the gall to follow through with any of them.

...

The sky was getting dim by the time town houses began popping up, the town is quieter than it would have been in the afternoon. Though you presume that’s what your kidnapper wanted, you’d gathered that he’s pretty antisocial. But some people were out. You felt the atmosphere in the truck get tense the further into town you both got and remember his warnings, so you kept your head down and listened to the radio instead.

He pulled into a quiet parking lot in and he parked in a far corner, he unbuckled his seat belt and for a moment you thought he was just going to leave without another word. But he turned to you, the most serious you’ve seen him “do you want anything?” The question caught you off guard and sat like a gaping fish for a second.

You blurted out one of your favourite sweets. Maybe you could get him to spend more time in there looking for it, giving you more time to escape. He nodded like he was taking a mental note, and then as if he could read your mind he said “I’ll be quicker than you think, be good” he seemed to search your eyes for something before hesitatingly locking the door and walking away.

You watched him enter the shop and immediately tried the door handle even though you heard him lock the car, it’s one of those old pick-ups with a separate key for the door so there was no other way to unlock them. Then you began rummaging through the draws and pockets for anything that could help, maybe a phone, a spare key to the door or engine maybe something capable of breaking the window. It was far fetched and knew you wouldn’t find anything but you’d regret it if you didn’t try.

At some point you refocused your attention, you needed to have someone help you. Finally a person left the store and almost got in their car until they heard your yelling and banging on the window. Your voice was muffled by the glass, so they started to hurry over closer to the car but suddenly stops walking and turns their head away. You follow their gaze and there stands you kidnapper.

He’s smiling at him carrying a few bags, you can’t catch what he’s saying but he seems to be explaining an excuse. You must have misjudged the time, there’s no working clocks or watches in the car so between you loosing track of time and him being a fast shopper, he’s caught you out. And you’ve never felt so sick as the blood drained from your face.

He walks closer to the truck and places the bags in the back before pulling the tarp over the bed, they continue talking but the person doesn’t seem convinced by whatever words he’s muttering. Hope still lingers but fear and regret is quickly taking over, making you shake and nauseous.

“Look it’s nice to meet you but we really need to get home” your kidnapper smilies while he opens the door, it’s so fake it makes you cringe, he’s never sounded to polite or looked so friendly. You want to shout out for help but the door shuts -and before you can process what’s happening you hear a click and a pocket knife is pressed to your thigh.

“Smile and wave at him before we leave or i slice these pretty thighs open” he growls through his teeth, using the other hand to turn on the engine and put the truck in gear. You feel the knife dig into your thigh harder “go on then, look happy -or I stop this car, kill your little saviour and take the back to the farm and give the dogs a little treat, the bloods on your hands honey” the knife drags an inch...he’s loosing his patience.

You’re out witted and out muscled. You’re sure that you and that innocent person will be dead within the hour if you didn’t give him what he wanted. You give a weak little wave and forced tight lipped smile, they seem reassured by the gesture and hesitantly walks back to their car after your kidnapper gave them another little wave. A fair well. There goes your saviour. “Good choice” he’s fuming still but withdraws the knife and races out of town back on the country roads.

A few drops of blood trickles off your thigh and onto the seat, and you begin to feel the sting after a few minutes of shock. It’s deathly silent, you see his hands grip the steering wheel turning his fingertips white and palms make the leather creak when he readjusts his tight grip.

He wasn’t one to be quiet when he’s angry, he’s usually very verbal when he’s angry and quiet when he’s content. You spent so many weeks studying his behaviour and facial expressions -to predict him -and now you’re as confused and afraid as the first time you met him. You’d never seen him act like this.

You didn’t dare speak first, instead you watched the town disappear from the corner of your eye as you stared at the footwell like a guilty dog. You didn’t dare move a muscle keeping rigidly still, gripping the leather seat beneath you.

He dragged a hand down his face, before letting go of a frustrated sigh. He was struggling to keep focused on the now bumpy country roads, he felt his burning anger in every inch of his body. “You had to go ruin all that progress, i was foolish for believing you knew your place? hu?” He spoke low, you could hear the snarl and imagined his crazed eyes. You still couldn’t lift your sorrowful gaze from the footwell, so you couldn’t confirm that.

“ANSWER ME YOU BRAT!” You flinched and your heart felt like it stopped for a moment before starting again at a much faster rate “ARE YOU TRYING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED?! IT FUCKING SEEMS LIKE IT” you knew what he meant, he’s a slave to his temper and there’s a possibility you could fall victim to it -no matter how many times you try console yourself that he’s held himself back from harming you physically many times before.

“-I’m sorry” was all you could choke out, your not sure anything you say would calm him down -it would likely make his temper worse. He went quiet once again, acknowledging the apology with a slight nod and a heavy huff. He tried to contain himself during the rest of the ride back, but the tension was thick and his anger still yet to die down even a bit. His hands still heavy on the wheel, the hour journey was cut almost in half with how he was speeding, and occasionally he’d shoot degrading comments.

He needed to get home, he needed space and time to process what you’d done. He’s utterly fuming with rage but not hate, that’s what was saving you from him pulling over the car and violently ‘correcting’ you right there, he had to remind himself that he’d regret hurting you, that he still loves you.

...

The car was haphazardly parked in the dirt drive next to the house and he, without a word, left the car and slammed the door. A few dogs came over to investigate and greet their owners but it seemed even the dogs could sense the tension and kept their distance and stopped wagging their tails. They were there to witness him storm around the front of the car and swing your door open.

“Get out” his tone threatening as he glared down at you, you struggled to unbuckle your belt, your fingers shaking. You stumbled out the car when your legs failed you, they felt like jelly. He slammed the door before taking your wrist firmly in his hand before pulling you behind him, he’s walking so such pace and intent -paired with your jelly like legs- that you stumbled a few more times.

You caught on pretty quick that it was the shed that you both were headed to. “I’d asked one thing of you, well you’ve really fucked yourself over now darlin’” dread clouded your rational thinking, your steps faltered and in instinctively tried pulling your arm away as you pleaded with him.

He didn’t even glance back at you, instead replied with a harsh pull on your wrist -he continued storming towards the shed. He ignored his as he unlocked the chains and pulled the wooden latch, he gave no sympathy as he pushed you into the shed, then showed no hesitance as he shut the door.

“You better get used to this shed, I’ll leave you in there forever if that what it takes to teach you” you could hear his temper unraveling, uncontrollable hate dripping from his words. The locks all slid into place and he left. Leaving you in the dark, sitting on a generous layer of hay, in tears and regret.

Light only source of comfort was the dim light of the evening creeping through the wood cracks and the occasional dog coming over shoving their wet nose against the door, sniffing for you, wondering why you’re in there. But even that faded as the day went on, the light disappeared with the sun and most the dogs sleeping on the covered porch and barn or guarding the livestock. One or two slept outside the shed it it was little comfort when you couldn’t see, hear or feel them.

Instead the shed turned pitch black you could have sworn your eyes were closed, the darkness brought bitter cold and goosebumps. The bugs in the hay crawled around sometimes tickling your leg, you’d grown used to bug having been on the farm for a while but this brought great discomfort due to the fact you could no longer see where or what was crawling around.

You kept reminding yourself that any minute now he’d be back, that how it went the other times you found yourself here. He’d leave you in the shed for a few hours then return usually before midnight to give you a calm ultimatum, he’d still be angry but willing to work through it with you.

Hope began to fade as what felt like hours passed, your toes and fingers became numb so you pushed them into the bug infested hay for some warmth to stop the burning cold. Eyelids grew heavy from exhaustion and burned from the crying. You’re sure you’ve never been left in here for this long but held onto hope that it was just bad time perception from the exhaustion. You went from preparing yourself for when he returned to desperately hoping your kidnapper would return.

All hope left after you’d blinked awake from a uncomfortable short nap to find yourself still in the shed. You pressed you’re face against the shed and peered through the crack to see the sky turn from black to a dark blue. It was almost dawn, you’d entered at dusk and been left here all night. Legs stung from bug bites, fingers and toes ached from the cold, everything itched from the cold, eyes and ears ached from the dark and deafening silence.

...

He’d left you in the shed without looking back and stormed into the house, he’d allowed his anger to boil over now you were out of grasp. The door slammed shut as he dropped his keys on the small table in the entry way, only to then letting his intrusive anger win and swipe everything off the table after seeing some of your items left there. Your items -one being a beloved pan of paint you’d left there after coming inside after painting the landscapes outside, his keys and a decorative pot now lay on the floor, he stepped over most while some others crunched under his heavy boots.

He stormed into the living room and shrugged off his jacket leaving it on the floor, he lit a cigarette and paced the room. For most of the evening he paced, ranted-shouted, smoked and shoved items that reminded him of you onto the floor or out of view. He even put a few fist holes in the walls and considered taking his hunting gun out to blow of some steam but decided it’s not best to hold a gun when he’s angry and around you.

He settled down in the night on the sofa with the tv muttering in the background as he stared into nothingness, taking a drag from one of many cigarettes. Finally his temper under control, finally he could think clearly... for the most part. How stupid he feels for trusting you, obviously you need more structure and punishment,

Much like you he didn’t sleep much, at some point in early ams he left the house back to the truck to bring in the shopping having nothing better to do. He was forced to walk through the house that he’d wrecked, there was one of your favourite painting pallets cracked on the floor, the vase of flowers you picked dumped out in the sink and some of his own stuff that he’d dumped or kicked in odd places while he paced.

He didn’t feel bad about breaking what little marks, through decor and personal items, you’d left in his house during the few months you’d been here, but rather disappointed in himself that he let his anger blind him.

That night was odd for him, it’s been a while since he was completely alone at night. And while his past self loved being isolated, he realised that he changed because of you. He found the quiet unsettling, and had to self-sooth and remind himself that you were just outside, that you weren’t some dream or temporary part of his life.

By the time morning came most anger had cleared, his jaw still felt tense and so with his furrowed brows and stiff posture. But as much as he hate to admit it at the risk of sounding dependant, being separated for the night and the thought of you not being around had forced him into forgiving you. He no longer kept you in the shed out of anger and inability to look at you without wanting to cause hurt, but now it was to teach you a lesson, so maybe in the future he won’t have to do it again... so he won’t loose you.

He spent the morning cleaning the mess, putting aside your cracked pan of paint to fix later when you’ve earned it back and dumping out the cigarette tray -after being reminded of how many he went through he made a mental note to lay off them for a few days to make up for it.

He let the whole day pass, now and then staring out a window at the shed tossing around the idea of letting you out. Be deciding he wasn’t ready, the last thing he wants is to open the door and re-ignite his anger. By the evening he put aside his grudge and chose not to let you bare another night in the cold. (But really he can’t bare another night alone)

...

You began to worry when the sun got low again, your stomach ached from hunger, you had a bat case of cotton mouth from thirst and stress, you’d also began biting your nails and your heart would pick up the pace randomly along with waves of dread and anxiety.

The bug bites itched and everything ached from staying in one place for over 24hours, you went as cold as last night but you knew the temperatures were going to drop once again and soon.

You hear the sound of his heavy boot crunch closer and closer. Your heart races again, your eyes wide as saucers and staying still as can so your ears can pick up any noise. You’d been begging for him to come back, hoping and crying but now he’s here you can’t help but dread it, wishing you had a minute more to compose yourself.

But beggars can’t be choosers, the chain rattles then the wooden latch is lifted and there infront of you is your kidnapper “you going to behave?” His voice is hoarse and seem tired by his tone, you can’t really see his face to confirm, he’s backlit and the light is hard on your eyes despite the sun being low. But you can imagine the bags and deep scowl.

You squint and desperately nod “I’m sorry -please” overwhelming feelings make you tear up again -your voice also sore and a stuffed nose from the crying messes up the delivery of the general apology/plea, but he seems to understand. “Do you understand what you’ve done? How you’ve put everything back to square one -no, into the negatives, you’re going to have to earn everything back because of one idiotic decision, understand?” He stands tense in the doorway looking down on you, so very belittling. He offers no sign of sympathy for your tears, bruises or fear.

But anything to get out of here “I’m sorry, I’ll be better, please I promise... please” he didn’t reply but just looked over you before scooping you up and taking you back to the house. As much as he frightened you and he was scarily quiet, you found comfort in his arms.

“Actions have consequences, when I need to go into town you’ll be locked in the shed, you can’t be trusted to control basic urges so I simply won’t give you the opportunity to fuck up” he begins as he enters the house, your gut twists at the thought of being locked in the shed again. “Please don’t, I’m sorry I don’t wa-“ he stops walking and your pleads are cut off

“I don’t care what you fucking want” his voice began to rise but he catches himself and huffs “you made your choice now live with it” he says with more control, he’s to exhausted to argue. He makes his way into the bathroom and sets you down on a counter as he runs a bath.

He beckons you to strip and get in the bath, you do just that and the hot water burns against your cold limbs, he sat down beside the tub and grabbed your face not gently but no where near as hard as he could “I would have killed that saviour of yours then make you live in that shed till your nothing but a husk of a person, is that what you want?” Your eyes widened and shook your head, when your words caught in your throat.

“I thought not” he lets go and you quickly avert your eyes, like making eye contact with a wolf, it’s certain doom. “This is merciful, you will be in the shed uncomfortable now and then, and no leaving the farm. I’m angry, disappointed and won’t be giving everything to you on a golden platter anymore but you can earn back trust, we can get back to where we were”

You sit uncomfortably, and you want to laugh at the ‘merciful’ statement. “You won’t make such a silly mistake again. You’ll listen to me from now on, won’t ya darling? You don’t want to get yourself or anyone else hurt do ya?” His hand that rested on your shoulder now unnervingly grips it but losses when you reply in favour for him.

He lays off the threats and fear mongering for the rest of the night. Once tense and quiet as he tried to control his anger issues he now is calmly quiet. He lets you eat before putting you to bed, he’s unusually close throughout the night, whereas he usually keeps his own space.

One arm lays over you and every time you shuffle he does too, waking up a bit and making sure your still there, not causing trouble. Just like how he acted when you first were kidnapped, it’s back to the start, no dignity, and a shit ton of emotional manipulation.

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere farmer #x reader

[coredrill]

they put superbia gijinka in dunmeshi

#they dont even look that similar but every time i see this guy i’m like. HUH #same with shinji. they are chilling in this dungeon togehter FNDNC #a: dunmeshi #t.txt #ALSO THEY HAD FEMALE NIPS IN THIS EP??????????? THAT CAUGHT ME BY SURPRISE LMFAO #finally getting some REAL trigger animation

[ecoamerica]

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#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[sinizade]

Izveta Noquar

Class: Rogue

Dark Urge (Evil but "redeemed")

Romance: Astarion (Ascended)

Besties: Why does she need friends if she has her own company? (Shadowheart is her bestie)

Being the youngest adopted daughter of the prestigious Noquar family in Menzoberranzan, Izveta was able to surpass the matriarch's biological daughters in any aspect, battles or manipulations. The drow had a natural talent for killing ever since she first held a weapon, the family's only concern about the girl was her constant conversations with a butler who seemed like only she could see, but often some other drow could see a small shadow next to her, almost as if whispering in her ear.

Her first love was the first person Izveta killed, a handsome young elf with beautiful green eyes almost the same age as her who was given to her as a gift by her mother. The young drow really thought he loved her the way she loved him, but she discovered the hard way that it was all just cruel manipulation for him to try to kill her and escape... What he didn't expect was that it would be a trigger for something cruel and bloodthirsty to awaken in Izveta who hunted him like an animal and slit his throat completely, leaving him unrecognizable...

Izveta ended up finding out from her butler that her sisters planned to kill her to reduce the matriarch's chances of choosing Izveta to replace her as head of the family. The young drow, possessed by anger and a feeling of betrayal, slew her sisters, showing them both to her mother like a trophy, but she didn't react as Izveta expected... The woman who raised her all her life tried to kill her and was once again overcome by hatred, Izveta killed her own mother, afraid of the reaction of the other drow, she fled to the surface where her butler constantly talks about a place she could actually consider a real home, where she would be accepted and loved for who she truly is

Getting used to the surface culture was one of the biggest difficulties for Izveta, not having males to satisfy her whims or soldies to do as she commanded was a reality check. The males on the surface were not as submissive and obedient as those who served her in Menzoberranzan and this ended up involving her in several fights in the places where she managed to stay, but it wasn't long until she finally found that place her butler talked about, her home, The Temple of Bhaal, the Lord of Murder... Her father. She didn't like her father's temple, it wasn't quite what she imagined as she thought it would be something grand like a castle or a fortress, but it fit with the cliche "I am a homicidal God"

Baldur's Gate was truly a lovely city, so full of light and life, Izveta simply loved walking through the dark alleys looking for some clueless person who would follow her wherever she took them, so that was when she met that dark-haired human man who He wasn't looking at her with fear, but curiosity and even perhaps admiration? Izveta didn't know for sure, but receiving that look after so long made her interested in knowing more about this human, knowing more about this "Enver Gortash"

The years after meeting Enver seemed to improve her mood. Izveta might have loved killing, feeling the hot blood on her hands, but she loved even more being pampered, receiving gifts, ordering and having her carpices supplied whenever she wanted and Enver made a point of doing all of this for her, giving some small gifts like rings, necklaces, masks... Izveta LOVES masks. Even though vanity is not something much used either in the Bhaal temple or by his followers, Izveta always loved simply beautifying herself, makeup, big jewelry, hairstyles for her long white hair, she loved spending minutes and even hours just beautifying herself with makeup or the blood of someone she killed. Enver managed to make her see him as an equal, not just an equal, a potential partner both with this strange plan with a "brain" and in bed, he had a thirst in his eyes, a thirst for her and she would quench that thirst every time he begged for her...

For some reason, losing her memories, even if it caused a certain frustration, at the same time caused relief... Being able to recreate her story without memories of the past to worry about

Some may think that Izveta redeemed herself by denying her "family heritage" by denying Bhaal, but her wave of chaos was just beginning. Astarion may think he controls her, that she is his beautiful spawn waiting only to receive orders from her lord, but something he doesn't even suspect is that he is right in the palm of her hand... A little flattery, a few whispers in his ear, a few touches on his chest and he does exactly what she wants and when she wants, he may not feel anything anymore or maybe feel, but the memories of the love he once felt for her are what give her power. Being a Bhaalspawn may have its advantages, but having the control of an ascended vampire lord was much better and as a vampire spawn everything is even more delicious, an eternity delighting in the death of whoever she wants and without any consequences... No There's nothing more she wants

Some extra information about Izveta

She loves white, she loves seeing the white of her clothes stained with blood, she loves seeing how her skin is highlighted while wearing white, she simply loves the color white.

She felt a little sorry for Orin, her little blood kin might be a kinda crazy, but she wasn't a bad person... At least not before her mother tried to kill her.

The only bad thing about denying her "father" was losing Sceleritas... Her butler, her true father... one of the few creatures she truly felt affection for

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanart #baldurs gate tav #dark urge #darkurge #durgetash #gortash x durge #astarion x durge #bg3 durge #durge #drawing #drawings #characterdesign #draw #sketch #digital drawing #character #drawn #sketchbook #sceleritas fel #bhaal #bg3 bhaalspawn #bhaalspawn tav

[thewaltcrew]

Director Kirk Wise, screenwriter Linda Woolverton, and actor Robby Benson on casting the Beast [x]

They gave me an incredible amount of freedom. I didn't want Beast to be a cartoon character. I played it as though I were doing a Broadway show. As if this was a living person. And I wanted him to be funny. By funny, I don't mean shtick or one-liners. I am talking about real comedy. When real comedy works, and is truthful, especially with the Beast, it comes out of the fact that he is so pathetic. For some reason, I really understood that. Ha! Because of that, they gave me a lot of leeway. [x]

My first audition was recorded on, of all things, a Sony Walkman. As a musician, I had branched out into recording engineer and loved to play with sound. When I saw the Sony Walkman I knew it had a little condenser microphone in it, and if I were to get too loud, the automatic compressor and built-in limiter would 'squash' the voice— and there would be very little dynamic range to the performance. I did a quick assessment and wondered how many people who had come in to audition for the part were making that error: playing the Beast with overwhelming decibels, compressing the vocal waveforms. I decided to give the Beast 'range.' Because of my microphone technique, and an understanding of who I wanted Beast to be, they kept asking me to come back and read different dialogue. After my fifth audition, Jeffrey Katzenberg the hands-on guardian of the film, said the part was mine…

Beauty and the Beast was so refreshingly fun and inventively creative to work on that I couldn't wait to try new approaches to every line of dialogue. Don Hahn is one of the best creative producers I have ever worked with. The two young directors, Kirk Wise and Gary Trousdale, were fantastic and their enthusiasm was contagious. I not only was allowed to improvise, but they encouraged it. It never entered my mind that I was playing an animated creature. I understood the torment that Beast was going through: he felt ugly; had a horrible opinion of himself, and had a trigger-temper. Those are things that, if done right, are the perfect ingredients for comedy. Painful and pathetic comedy— but honest. The kind of comedy I understood...

In the feature world of Disney animation, the actors always recorded their dialogue alone in a big studio, with only a microphone and the faint images of the producers, writers, directors and engineer through a double-paned set of acoustic glass. Paige O'Hara and I became good friends; it was her idea that for certain very intimate scenes, such as when Beast is dying, we record together. We were able to play these scenes with an honest conviction that is often absent in the voice-over world...

The success of this film was the culmination of a team effort but I must say, the honors go to the animators— and for me (Beast), that's Glen Keane — and to Howard Ashman and Alan Menken. This was the perfect example of a crew who 'cared'. And the final results (every frame) of the film represent that sentiment. [x]

#beauty and the beast #disneyedit #robby benson #kirk wise #linda woolverton #actor #director #writer #my gif

[thegnomelord]

Soap and #12 with cismale reader. I was thinking they have mutual feelings for each other but not in a relationship yet, and some obliviousness mixed in for drama lol

Sure mate, though it ended up more drama than oblivious idiots in love lol. Play the game HERE.

Prompt: "What, did you think all those times I kissed you were for shits and giggles?" "Let's be real, you had a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public."

CW:NSFW, Sub Soap, Top male reader, back alley sex, semi-public sex, mild fighting, miscommunication, Soap being a jealous hoe(again)

You and Soap have a . . . thing. You're not quite sure what to call it; You're just comrades, friends, who go out for drinks after every mission and end up messily making out in the back of a bar only to get kicked out when you two inevitably get frisky and near an indecent exposure charge. But it's fine, because it gives you the excuse to go to base and fuck on the bed, or the floor, or the table, or against the wall, or any other semi-flat surface.

But you're just friends. . . or, that's what tell yourself every time your heart pitifully clenches in your chest when Soap smiles, when he laughs and pats your shoulder, when he moans your name so sweetly as you pound into him, when he looks at you as if his world starts and ends with you; because what would a bloke like Soap want with you other than sex? So you try to drown the ache for him by going out with other people, but it's never the same— not in the way they sound, in the way they move, in the way you feel.

Johnny, on the other hand, thinks you're his and his alone.

"I'm telling yea lads," Johnny says as he knocks back a beer, a lovey dovey look in his eyes like he's a lovesick puppy. "Ah've locked him down this time." He grins, and Ghost swears if he has to listen one more time about how big your cock is or how Johnny can still feel you from last time— he'll shoot you both.

"Uhuh," Gaz rolls his eyes, amused at his antics but also happy that he's finally found someone. "Yeah, su-" Something catches Gaz's eyes and he turns his head, the color draining from his face. "-ummmm."

Ghost's eyes quickly flicker over to where he's looking, "Look at that," Ghost gives a rough snort, "Locked your man down so good he's swappin' spit without you."

Soap's immediately sober as a nun, his neck audibly cracking when he swings around to look at you. The sight of you making out with a random girl across the bar has Soap's thoughts turning in his head like rusted cogs, the world almost slowing down to force him to feel all the emotions his brain spits out; Surprise comes first, like being drenched in ice cold water, disgust making his blood feel like tar at the thought of you touching someone else the same way you touch him, hot anger barreling straight through it to make fingers twitch for the trigger of a gun.

But it's the meek hurt that forces his legs to move, striding across the bar like he's on a war path. A rough hand on your shoulder makes you break off the kiss, your world spinning like a kaleidoscope from the booze and sudden force turning you around. Your eyes finally settle on familiar blue ones, but they're cold like the deepest part of the arctic. "Johnny?" You ask.

His name on your lips only makes his scowl deeper, a bruising grip on your arm as he tugs you, "We need tae talk," He spits, glaring at the poor girl you'd been making out with like she's riddled with plague.

You're not given even a second to argue before he's yanking you out the back exit into the alley between the bar and another building. A second later he's roughly slamming you into the brick wall, knocking the breath out of your lungs with a forearm against your throat and ignoring as you choke softly. "Thae fock's wrong wit' yea!" He snarls into your face, more animal than man.

Rapidly depleting oxygen forces your brain to flood your veins with adrenaline and suddenly you're moving, harshly elbowing him in the stomach and ramming him into the stone wall behind him you swear the rock cracks. "Me? What's wrong with you?"

He tries to push against you, your arms scrambling for a solid hold until you end up in a stand still, "What's wrong-" He shoves his face into yours, nearly breaking your nose while hissing like a feral cat, "-is thaet ye're shacking up with some tramp."

"So what!" You demand, a low grunt leaving your lips as you attempt to keep him pinned when he squirms like an eel, "We're just casual-" You force out those words, trying to ignore the stab to the chest your heart gives.

"Casual?" He scoffs and with a swift jerk of his head smashes his skull into yours. You stumble away, black spots dancing in your vision and that's all he needs to grab and switch your positions, pinning you to the wall. "What? D'yea think all those times I kissed you were for shits and giggles?" He demands, a bit of a traitorous hurt making his his voice crack, face pinched in pain.

"Let's be real-" Copper and iron invade your tastebuds, drawing attention to the slow stream of blood trickling from your nose, "-you had a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public."

You feel his body tense, but keep your eyes open as you expect him to punch you, to kick you, to do something to prove what you have is just temporary; pointless bliss.

"Then how'bout ah give yea a clearer message-" He leans in to lick trail of blood on your face before capturing your lips in a kiss that's more teeth than anything else. You wretch your hand free to tangle your fingers in his short hair, bodies fitting together like jigsaw pieces, reciprocating with just as much intensity as you bite his bottom lip until his blood floods your mouths. "Got it through yer thick skull now?" He asks, pulling back just a bit to stare into your eyes.

You don't know what 'it' is, but the kiss and the roughness makes heat burn through your veins, one quick flicker of your eyes confirming he's sporting the same problem in his pants as you are. "Think I'll need more convincing."

Soap yelps when you turn him around, pinning his chest to the cold wall as your hands slide down to his belt. You stall for a second to give him a way out, but he just growls, "Get on with it," So you quickly undo his pants, shoving his jeans and boxers just down beneath the swell of his arse.

"Slut," You chuckle when you catch sight of the black plug nestled between his cheeks, the skin near it still glistening with lube from how messily he'd prepped himself, "Needed me so bad did you?" You ask as you pull the plug out, putting it into your pocket as you push the head of your cock against his fluttering opening.

"'s cause ah love yea, fockin' git." He growls, his words making your brain crash.

"Repeat that," You say, softer, kinder than you usually operate, pressing against him until you're covering his back completely. "Say that again."

He notices your change, the ice in his eyes melting away enough to let him tug your head closer to kiss you, "I love you." The way he says it, like a prayer, like a sweet caress, has your heart melting into a puddle. A dingy back alley shouldn't be the place where you confess your love, but right now it feels like Paris.

"Love you too," You kiss him back and slide into him in one slow stroke, greedily swallowing down his sounds. You let him adjust before setting a hard pace like you know he loves, cock head scraping against his prostate with every thrust. "Really, really love you." You breathe out, watching his eyes lose focus as he lets out little 'ah, ah, ah's every time your hips meet.

"Bonnie, bonnie lad please-" He whines, resting his face against the dirty wall as he moans without shame, forgetting that anyone could walk in on you two and more than likely hear you across the single layer brick wall. "Fock, c'mon, give it to me."

"Yeah, gonna take care of you-" Your hand slides down to rub his cock, squeezing his base every time you bottom out and playing with his head when you draw your hips back so you can plunge back inside him, lust and love lighting up every synapse in your body. "Just say you love me again."

Johnny's eyes close as he falls into a barely comprehensible rambling of 'love you, love you, love you', his body shaking with a building heat in his stomach, precum rapidly lubing the glide of your hand as you fuck him in a harsh pace until with a sharp yell against his shoulder you cum inside him, Johnny following suit as he paints the dirty wall white with his cum.

You feel him collapse against you and have just enough strength left to support you both, though the wall does the brunt of the work. You breathe the same air as you try to get your bearings, both hearts beating in the same speed and rhythm, and Johnny whines when you attempt to shift, hole clenching greedily around you like his body doesn't want you to seperate.

"You know," You say when you've managed to catch your breath, nuzzling into the back of his neck, "There are easier ways to say you love me without biting my head off." You chuckle, as if your heart isn't beating a thousand miles per hour at the knowledge Soap loves you.

He swats at your head, "Oh awa' an bile yer heid." He growls such harsh words before kissing you softly, sharing a silent promise with you.

#cod mw2 #Gnome's prompt game #x reader #gnome correspondence #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #sub john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x male reader #I am slowly dying with how many of ya'll are playing this game O_O #But seriously ya'll are wonderful #and I love and cherish every member of the gnome army

[genericpuff]

Persephone has a very nasty habit that needs to be talked about.

Have y'all ever really sat down and observed the when of Persephone's actions towards others?

There are three actions specifically I want you to recall and try and remember what happened preceding those actions:

1.) Persephone turning Minthe into a mint plant

2.) Persephone cornering Tori at his job

3.) Persephone invading Leuce's home with barn animals and low key threatening her life

Think very hard for a second about the when of those events. What happened leading up to them?

First, Persephone turning Minthe into a mint plant. This happened right after she made out with Hades at the shopping mall, but more specifically, this happened while she was hiding out in Hades' home from Zeus, while also fearing the worst of her situation with Apollo.

Second, Persephone cornering Tori at his job. This scene came right after she saw the "Apollo for President" sign in Olympus.

And third, Persephone invading Leuce's home. This came shortly after she had felt insecure over Hades calling Hera 'Bunny', which for some reason she pinned on her own "jealousy" instead of calling out the elephant in the room.

It also came right after the Zeus/Dionysus incident and Demeter trying to force her to stay in the Mortal Realm, but I think the Hera incident is the most damning because it's the most related to Persephone's clear insecurities that are being compounded by dating / being married to a serial cheater.

What do all three of these things tell us about Persephone?

It shows that Persephone has a bad habit of projecting all of her problems onto other people that have nothing to do with the bigger issues.

Minthe ratted her out, yes, but she was still running from her inevitable trial, attempting to use the Underworld's policies to play the system and get herself off as scot-free as possible. I mentioned this already in a previous post, but these aren't the actions of a person who claims to feel as guilty as they do over committing mass manslaughter. Point is, she would have gotten caught eventually, and she still had to answer for her crimes. Minthe was an easier target for her anger and frustration than Zeus.

Tori gossiped about her in college, yes, but it came from a very real incident in which Hades ripped out his roommate's eye and beat him half to death. Tori wasn't even gossiping at that point, he was deadass just telling his side of the story and warning people that Persephone was affiliating herself with an abusive man. None of what he said about her being "Hades' dark concubine" was untrue, but he had the unfortunate luck of being at the bank right after Persephone was triggered by the Apollo sign. Tori was just an easier target for her anger and frustration than Apollo.

Leuce attempted to 'seduce' Hades, yes, but she was manipulated by Thetis in an attempt to get her planted just like Minthe and I think a lot of people forget that. Not to mention, Persephone says that she had "ten years" to make the moves on Hades, but like... no she didn't, because Hades was either possessed by Kronos or in a coma for those 10 years, and then he got married to Persephone like 5 days after that LMAO (not saying that excuses her trying to seduce him, I'm just wondering when she was supposed to find the time in those 10 years to talk to him LOL). And finally, and most importantly, Hades had already rejected her advances. She was already embarrassed. She clearly wasn't going to attempt it again. She is of no threat to Persephone, the now wife of Hades and Queen of the Underworld. So Persephone raiding her home was purely just for her own entertainment and, again, to satisfy her own insecurities. Leuce was just an easier target for her anger and frustration than Hades and Hera.

Point is, instead of actually dealing with the root of her issues, seeking legitimate help for her trauma, and/or learning any amount of self-care techniques to manage her frustration and refocus herself on the bigger issues, Persephone is instead relegating herself to a bully who takes out all of her issues onto people weaker than her, oftentimes people who have nothing to do with those bigger issues or have no real bearing on her life.

I'm sure now that I've written about this (because I'm not 100% convinced Rachel isn't reading this lmao the odds are low but never zero) there's gonna be some arc where Persephone goes "aw, I saw the bigger issues but now I'm a different person so life goes on!" without actually doing anything to make up for how she's harmed people (there already is sort of a 'twist' like that in the newest FastPass and it's uh... yikes) but until that happens (again, odds are SEVERELY low but never zero) Persephone is literally the worst person in her own story. She doesn't need a sugar daddy, she doesn't need power, she needs some bitter doses of reality and, most importantly, help.

#lo critical #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[artist-issues]

I know we're all over this topic right now. But one of the main things I think was important in the original The Little Mermaid that the remake totally missed was that Ariel's faith was in a person.

She starts out having faith in an idea. A vague concept. "Humans might be wonderful and worth loving because they make wonderful things. They might not be barbarians. They might even understand me."

And that's great. She has some evidence to put her faith in. But that evidence is how kind and harmless a scatter-brained seagull is, and his nonsense explanations of human trinkets.

So she deduces that the humans might not all be bad and they might actually be wonderful. If they can make things, maybe they must be inventive--maybe they see the world as full of possibilities--just like she does.

And that's enough to make her argue with her dad, the king, and buck against the entire undersea worldview.

It's enough to make her spend her days collecting and dreaming.

It's enough to make her visit the surface despite the fact that it's forbidden and potentially a risk to her life.

But the collection, the good Surface-Seagull, and all her guesses about the Surface are not enough to make her leave her family and her world behind.

And the original movie's creators knew that the audience needed to see that, in Act 1.

She thinks about it. But she doesn't actually pull the trigger. She doesn't actually take the leap of faith, or make the big sacrifice.

Not until she meets a person who embodies all the things she's hoped were true after her experiences with trinkets and seagulls.

When Ariel discovers Eric, he brings all her dreams about what the Surface might be like to life. He makes it real.

That's why she's in love with him. There's a combination of "he's everything I hoped humans would be...and he's even better, because I know how he feels."

In the Script for The Little Mermaid, when Eric asks if Grimsby is still "sore because I didn't fall for the Princess of Glowerhaven," there's just one break in the dialogue before Grimsby responds. It says "Ariel listens closely."

Because that's important. It's not just because she thinks he's handsome and she's listening to learn more about what his love life is like. She's listening closely because there's a conflict, like the ones she has with her father, and she wants to see if this human is "reprimanded" for his way of thinking or not.

She not only finds a human who is brave, sacrifices himself for an animal, and free to explore--she also finds a human who has dreams that the people around him can't understand.

He makes her ideals real, and expands on them, just by being himself.

Ariel learns precisely what she needs to about him, in one scene, for her in-character response to be "falls deeply in love."

And he's the straw that breaks the camel's back. Suddenly it's all real to her. Now she can sacrifice. Now she has something powerful enough to put her faith in--now she has someone worth loving enough to take a big leap of faith to.

That's why having her forget that she needs to kiss him, and having her only decide to give up her life under the sea when Ursula specifically mentions "never leave home again," is not Ariel. It implies that most prominent reason for her sacrifice was so that she could be free to explore instead of imprisoned where nobody gets her. But that's not Ariel. That's not the most important reason behind why she left in the original movie. She left because she finally had someone to love, and put her faith in.

She left for love, not independence. She left for Eric, not just for herself. You can dislike that all you want, but then you're disliking Ariel. Because that's who she is; that's why she did it.

#The little mermaid #meta #Ariel #analysis #character analysis #The little mermaid critique #the little mermaid 1989 #the little mermaid 2023 #Jodi benson #Eric #Prince Eric #Halle Bailey #Ariel x eric #tlm #tlm 2023 #tlm 1998 #the live action little mermaid #live action remake #disney

[sarahghetti]

direction to perfection; j.l.

pairing: jake lockley x reader, marc and steven are briefly alluded to but do not make an appearance

summary: one day, your vigilante lifestyle leads to you to crossing paths with a moon-serving weirdo in white bandages. jake promises that he won't get in the way, but there's something about his smirk that has your spidey-sense tingling, and what do you know—

he sets a building on fire.

it's not supposed to be romantic.

warnings: depictions of fighting and violence, injuries, hurt and comfort, reader is a spider-person and thus has a spider-person sense of humour😭.

word count: 3.8k

notes: part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'bonfire”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

You have a love-hate relationship with your spidey-sense—it’s useful enough to give you a heads-up, but it’s not exactly a get-out-of-danger-free card.

It kicks in as you’re soaring through the air, an errant pulse in your veins that tells you one thing: MOVE. But there’s no time—before you even manage to lift your web-shooter, one of Doc Ock’s mechanical arms whips around and collides hard against your torso. For a moment, you feel your ribs crack underneath the metal, the sharp pains accompanied by a real stupid thought, even by your standards: guess I’m going to call in sick tomorrow—

—and then you finally hit the brick wall behind you. The air is ripped from your lungs and your thoughts short-circuit into nothingness. New York’s evening rush hour is drowned out by high-pitched ringing. If it weren’t for your wallcrawling ability, you’d be falling forty stories down onto the traffic below. Instead, rooted into the small crater you’ve made into an office building, all you can do is languish in what surely must be multiple broken bones and a slightly bruised ego for not being able to dodge a hit that you saw coming.

Speaking of—there’s another one heading towards you right now.

You leap upwards without a second thought, just narrowly avoiding becoming a shitty claw-machine prize as the arm lodges into the wall where your head used to be. Spots dance across your vision and you groan—your body does not want to move.

Suspended between two buildings, Doc Ock’s mechanical arms dig into concrete and brick as she follows you up. Her voice is deceptively empathetic. “Down so soon, little spider? I expected more from you!”

One of the arms rears back again but distantly, there’s the clench of a trigger—and it gets pinned behind her by a golden grappling hook.

The wire grows taut then there he is, using the reeling mechanism to lunge upwards. All the momentum is channeled into his crescent blade as Jake jams it between the plates of the trapped arm; it jerks like a wounded animal, suddenly uncoordinated and stiff. When it lashes out again, he easily dodges and jumps across the buildings onto the fire escape next to you.

“Mierda! You okay?”

Glowing white eyes, wide with concern—the sight is enough to shake you out of your concussive stupor. Jake extends a hand, and you take it readily, allowing him to help you up onto the rickety platform.

“Just peachy,” you wheeze as you lean almost your entire body weight against him.

This was supposed to be a simple mission. It wasn’t even supposed to be a mission in the first place, but one detained drug dealer led to another, which led to a smuggler and a mercenary and a goddamn gym teacheruntil you were faced with a whole corrupt laboratory that tied back to Doc Ock’s operations.

Jake got looped in somewhere between the mercenary and the gym teacher, apparently answering some kind of divine calling of his own. Egyptian god of the moon? Protecting travelers of the night? You just call the people you save New Yorkers, no fancy labelling here.

But you’re not so prideful as to turn away help when you need it, especially when it comes gift-wrapped in superhuman strength and a bullet-proof cape. Even though you catch him giving himself these looks in the windows you pass by or having whole conversations to himself under his breath—you’ve seen weirder.

Like now: There’s a clear conflict happening in—on?—Doc Ock. The damaged arm flails wildly through the air, and the other three can’t seem to decide between trying to calm it down, retreat, or kill you.

Those white eyes turn to you. “Sure you don’t want me to shoot her?”

“No!” Now you remember why you were initially wary of him—because when you first met, he was holding one of his blades to a lackey’s throat. Danger, danger! You didn’t even need your spidey-sense to tell you that; he wears the warning like a badge of honour. “We just need to subdue her till the cops come. Follow my lead.”

Jake gives you a mock salute. Fortunately, Doc Ock’s lab was deserted—except for her—when you crashed the place. Whatever supersecret bioweapon she’s cooking up will still be waiting for you to destroy it after you capture her.

With just one press of a button, you’re soaring back into action. The arms seem to have coordinated themselves again—having decided to kill you, how lucky—but so have you and Jake. One lunges towards you, and you pull upwards on your web, going feet over head as you as you flip backwards out of the way.

In that split-second moment when you’re fully upside-down, your arm extends downwards and thwip!—your web attaches to the titanium plating. The world realigns itself, and your momentum carries you in an arc below the arm, dragging it behind you as you continue in your original direction.

As soon as you land on the side of the opposing building, you yank hard. Immediately, your other hand comes up to shoot a dozen or so webs to attach the claw onto the wall. It won’t last—the brick is already crumbling under the force—but it gives Jake enough time to shake off Doc Ock’s attention and join you.

Closer than you were before, you can see just how much force it takes for him to drive his blade through the circuitry. Sparks burst like little fireworks around his hand. He makes it look easy, but a shudder crawls down your spine—you just know what he’s capable of.

You both leap out of the way as the arm thrashes erratically; Doc Ock cries out in frustration. That’s two arms down, and two that are busy suspending her in the air. You’ll have to catch her once you take out another one, but that’s no biggie.

“Jake!” You gesture towards the nearest arm, and he nods in understanding. Despite the pain radiating through your limbs, you grin. For all his snark and murderous tendencies (which you hope are just a joke), he’s a half-decent partner.

It’s too bad, then, that Doc Ock doesn’t seem to care about how good of a time you’re having. Her mouth twists into a snarl, and in a blink of an eye, she’s scrambling away. Retreating? Your poor, bruised head is hopeful for the night to end.

In a way, it’s right—she is trying to get away from you. Unfortunately, it also recognizes that she’s retracing your steps, right back to the lab where you first found her.

“Oh, damn it!”

Your injuries and Jake’s limited modes of superhuman transport make it impossible to gain any real ground as you chase after her. Doc Ock climbs through her shattered window half a minute before you do, and even if your conscious mind doesn’t realize it, some part of you does—it’s an ambush.

You dive to the ground just as a mini fridge is thrown in your direction. Pain shoots down your side, your vision blurring with tears. The sheer wave of nausea that washes over you makes your mouth water and fuck, you might actually puke like this.

There’s something else coming but you can’t do anything other than half-heartedly roll behind the nearest object. The workbench shields you from—what, a chair? You aren’t afforded anymore time to think about it because she rips off the counter next, several important-looking valves raining down around you. Through the noise, you just barely manage to pick up a quiet hissing in the air as you try to gather your bearings.

A line of workbenches down the centre of the room, an aisle on either side.

On the right: sinks and fume hoods.

On the left: whiteboards.

Directly in front of you: the absolute bane of—and possible end to—your existence, holding up that chunk of black countertop as if it were a hammer and you are a nail.

You brace yourself for the hit, but it never comes. There’s a surprised yelp from above you, and your peer through your arms at just the right time to see Jake land a brutal kick into Doc Ock’s chest, sending her flying. You don’t see her land, but you do hearit; equipment crashes to the ground, glass shattering on the linoleum.

With a hand from Jake, you’re back on your feet. Doc Ock is reeling at the far end of the room. The walls are littered with long, deep gashes—some from your initial confrontation with her, some likely from her mechanical arms flailing from Jake’s hit. Several of the fume hoods are missing their windows entirely, which definitely bodes ill considering that there are still chemicals in some of them.

Gritting your teeth, you somehow manage to get the words out, “Just stand down, Olivia!”

A hand is clutched at her side, and some petty part of you hopes that her ribs are broken too. “This isn’t over.”

You gesture to her mechanical arms, two of which are still malfunctioning like headless chickens, then to yourselves, who are (mostly) in one piece. “Well, it sure is about to be.”

She raises her eyebrows at Jake. “You raid a Spirit Halloween and suddenly think you can defeat me?”

“Yeah, sure, let me just take fashion advice from someone cosplaying as an octopus.”

Jake leans towards you. “Do you always talk this much?”

At that, Doc Ock’s eyes narrow, filled with determination. She’s not backing down this time, which means neither can you.

You both ready yourselves like you have countless times before, straightening your stance and setting your shoulders back. But Jake doesn’t show the same patience. No—he sees the remaining mechanical arms twitch in preparation, and a blade is already leaving his hand with deadly-precise aim.

Wait, wait, the hissing sound—the gas—

“Get down!” You ram your body into Jake’s, bringing you both to the ground as the blade makes contact with the titanium, sparks flying out and—

BOOM.

It’s like your heart stops.

For several moments, you don’t register anything at all. You aren’t even sure if you’re still breathing.

Slowly, your senses return. The scent of burning plastic invades your nostrils—even the air tastes like it too. Something’s landed on top of you, pinning you down with a surprising amount of strength. Warm and sturdy and pressing into all the wrong places, but you can’t even hear your own whimpering—there’s nothing but ringing in your ears.

Are your eyes closed? You can’t bring yourself to check. All you can do is try to remember how to live, and figure out what the hell is happening.

Your spidey-sense has gone quiet. That’s—that’s good. Hopefully. Or maybe it’s just been knocked out of you by the blast. You let that last thought get washed away into the muddled mess of your head; you could probably use a bit of positive thinking right now.

Everything hurts. That’s been true for the past hour, really, but there’s no gut-wrenchingly painful burn anywhere on your body like what you expected from a lab explosion. The closest thing is just that warmth against your back, in a thick arm across your chest, and encircled around your wrist, where it lingers along your pulse point.

Something brushes up against your cheek, roughly textured but trying to be so, so gentle. Words start to pierce through the hearing damage. “—estás bien, te tengo. No te preocupes, estás bien.”

“Jake?” Your voice comes out small and tinny, unsure of how loud to speak when everything sounds like it’s underwater. You receive an affirmative rumble, and the tension seeps out of your limbs, just a tad.

Tentatively, you open your eyes. And there’s—nothing. Just a white sheet of fabric covering your entire field of view. Jake huffs out a laugh at your confusion before finally standing up, his cape pulling back from where it was draped on top of you.

“Oh.”

It’s like a bomb went off. Nearly every surface has been scorched black, save for the perfectly untouched flooring around you where Jake shielded you both from the blast. Any equipment in the room has been reduced to pieces—if not completely combusted into ash and soot—and fires still linger despite the efforts of what’s left of the sprinkler system.

No sign of Doc Ock anywhere—she must’ve gotten away. Jake lets out a long string of curses under his breath, then finishes it off with an eloquent: “Fuck.”

The fire alarm is incessant, and the sprinklers have all but drenched your suit. If you had half a working brain left, you’d feel the shivers wracking your body and realize that you’re still bleeding out in several different places, but the only thing that crosses your mind is how tired you are.

You throw your mask off with a groan. The sirens in the distance only add to your growing headache. So close, you were so close this time.

“Come on.” Jake’s stands over you, mask retracted, and you can see the grimace on his face from how the mission turned out. Wordlessly, he offers to help you up, and is promptly ignored. He keeps his hand extended towards you, shaking it a little for emphasis, but you refuse to budge.

That is, until your mind so helpfully strays and wonders—how big was the blast?

Your eyes widen, and your body jerks upright as though electrocuted. Oh, God—you didn’t see anyone else in the lab other than Doc Ock when you arrived, but what about the other floors? What about the pedestrians on the sidewalk below, who might’ve had glass and debris rained down upon them when the windows were blown out?

It takes several tries to get to your feet, none of which are entirely successful because Jake has to intervene halfway through to hold you upright. Your second wind catches him off-guard and his brows furrow as you try to leap back into action. “Whoa—talk to me, bug. What’s happening?”

“Need to—” You try to shrug him off. His grip loosens for all of a moment before you’re stumbling again, and then he returns, as firm and steady as ever. “Was anyone hurt?”

“You.”

“Not what I meant,” you scowl. It’s thoroughly ineffective. The only response you get is a subtle tilting of his head, then a loss of his undivided attention as he listens to something—someone—in the room that you aren’t privy to.

His gaze flickers back to you, marginally softer. “No one else was hurt. You need to rest.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. What’s the point of superhealing if you can’t bounce back after a fight? This time when you struggle against him, Jake lets you go, crossing his arms as you limp around the room.

Fortunately, most of the smoke is being pulled out the windows; what’s left is enough to burn and scrape down your larynx, but you push through it. Doc Ock has to have left some kind of trace—if not during her escape, then in the work she left behind. But kicking around in the ashes yields nothing. There’s no conveniently placed folder full of evil plans, or vial labelled SUPER SECRET BIOWEAPON (ONLY COPY - NO NEED TO SEARCH ANY FURTHER).

Jake sighs. “What are you looking for?”

What are you looking for? The building is still on fire, for Christ’s sake—you should have been gone ten minutes ago. Still, your stubbornness is steadfast. “There has to be—something.”

He sweeps out an arm, gesturing to the resounding nothing around you. With wet curls stuck to his forehead, his tone veers on sardonic. “Oh? Your little spider-sense tell you that?”

“Spidey, and—and it’s not a radar, I can’t just turn it on,” you bristle. His ensuing snicker lands all wrong, and your mouth twists into a scowl. “Funny, is it? Blowing up a building?”

“Hey.” The lightness disappears from his expression. “How was I supposed to know about the gas leak?”

It’s a valid question. Still, the anger in you can’t help but flare up anyways, running on his words as if they were diesel. You bite back a retort at the last second, which isn’t enough because the resulting silence is accusatory in and of itself.

He takes a step towards you, chin raised as water continues to rain down on you both. Solid, sturdy—unyielding. The sight twists your stomach into knots, but you stand your ground, placing your hands on your hips even though it pulls painfully at a handful of your muscles. “Shit happens, bug. It’s no one’s fault—well, maybe a bit my fault, but—”

“I had her.” It’s a blatant lie, but full of conviction as it leaves your lips.

He’s nothing short of incredulous. “Did you?”

“Yes—”

Faster than your hazy mind can register it, his hand shoves at your shoulder. Not hard, but it didn’t need to be—you practically crumple, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to before you land flat on your ass, but Jake wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you.

You swat at his chest. You hate that his warmth is familiar. “Let me go.”

He counters: “What’s wrong?”

“You, asshole.”

“’m the bad guy now? You want a fight that bad?” His eyebrows cock upwards, regarding you like some unruly child.

He’s being inflammatory on purpose and it’s working. You’re an elastic band in his fingers, one that he keeps stretching and stretching and stretching until you snap. “I don’t want a fight, I want a—”

Win, you almost admit. You wanted a win, after all this time you’ve spent chasing after Doc Ock. Countless sleepless nights and lackeys thrown behind bars, only to fail in the final moments when it really mattered. The realization is debilitating, even in the confines of your own head, and so you lash out again, distracting yourself from the bitterness on your tongue by spewing it out instead.

“We’re not all out for blood, you know.” Then, because you can’t help yourself— “I’m not you, Jake.”

“Is that what this is about?” His hand tenses almost imperceptibly against your back, but you manage to catch it. Of course you do, with every sense on high alert, blood rushing in your ears. “You mad ‘cause I’m a killer?”

Something dangerous underlines his tone when he says the word and you flinch, trying to create some distance between the two of you on instinct. Jake doesn’t grant you that—his other arm comes to hold you as well, pulling you in even though you think you might suffocate in his presence.

“You knew this from the start. Don’t tell me you’re going to try to turn me in now.”

“Maybe I should,” you say in a rush, gaze steely as it meets his. For all your superhuman powers, none give you the ability to read what’s going on behind the storm in his eyes. You’re so close, you can almost feel the heat radiating off his skin, hear the words in his mouth before he even says them.

“You’re the one with the spidey-sense.” His voice is low. Somewhere in the back of your mind, through the shame and anger and desperation—you note that he’s called it by the right name this time. “You tell me. Am I a threat?”

Your heart is beating a mile a minute and your stomach is all fluttery and weird but—no. There’s no tingling at the back of your neck, no hair-raising along your arms. Petulance makes you want to lie and say yes anyways, but you can’t bring yourself to form the words. It just… isn’t true. And for some reason, you have feeling that this would be going too far, even as a rash potshot.

When you don’t respond, Jake’s expression softens, the lines of his face giving way to an understanding look that makes you feel smaller than his antagonism ever could. The fires have mostly died down now, but warm reds and oranges still flicker along the side of his jaw, in corners of his irises. His arms feel less like a cage and more like a lifeline, keeping you from drifting out to sea.

“Just—thought I finally caught her,” you mumble, and he pulls you the last few inches into a proper hug. Exhausted, you let yourself melt into his arms, the adrenaline beginning to seep away despite the cacophony of sirens in the background. “It’s been so long, Jake.”

“I know.” He doesn’t, not really—you haven’t divulged just how far this rivalry goes, but you don’t have to think very hard to realize that he’s speaking from experiences long before he ever met you. “We’ll get her next time.”

You snort softly into his suit. “What, you staying?”

It’s silly, the tinge of hopefulness that laces your voice just minutes after you’ve essentially accosted him. But Jake’s grinning when you pull back to look at him, all boyish confidence, and you nearly forget to breathe. “I could be convinced.”

Wait—what? He’s thrown you off-kilter. You—you didn’t think he’d actually— “Well—!”

At your stammering, he lets out a laugh, throwing back his head. It’s a wonderful sound, and when you flick his arm in response, there’s no real force to it.

“Well, you know what they say,” you sniff, trying to maintain your composure. “Friends close, enemies closer, and all that.”

“Right, right,” he nods gravely. The effect is severely diminished by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Keeping one arm around you, he starts to lead you towards an exit. “Don’t know how you’ll handle it—your spidey-sense going off all the time with me around.”

On the way out, he picks up your mask from where you discarded it, slapping it a few times against his leg to brush off the soot and ash. His own mask and hood come up to envelope his face as he hands it to you. Distantly, you wonder how his glowing white eyes would look in the dark. Probably a bit stupid, is your conclusion.

“I’m sure I can manage,” you sigh, and once you slip on your mask, he gives you a little pat on the head before you can bat him away. Jake leans away enough to avoid your attempts to tug at his hood, but at the next opportunity, he reaches over again, the little shit, hand drawing in close, and your spidey-sense, superhuman and extraordinary, it’s—

It’s never been quieter.

#moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #at time of posting i feel like dogshit ✌️ #pls enjoy i am going to bed now goodnight #mk bingo 2024

[d0llcherry]

୨୧ LAMB WITH TEETH ♡.°୭̥

Scout and Medic meeting an cutegore!reader ⁎⁺˳✧༚ 

Triggers: gore, lots of descriptive death, its TF2 so its the basic.

Reader's info: Reader is heavily implied to be a girl, very small (like five feet tall) and does blood rituals.

type: headcanons, romantic/platonic

୨୧ THE SCOUT ♡

୨୧ When scout first met you, he was heavily convinced you were not going to last in the battlegrounds, by your height and the way you dressed all in pink and cutesy ribbons, Not to mention that you had a bunch of stuffed animals in your bags.

୨୧ He would mock you for the first few days, calling you "short ghost", since you were always so quiet and observant, you didnt even greet him properly when he talked to you for the first time.

୨୧ The mockery would be often until the first day you had to fight together, and oh boy, shocked wasnt even close of how he felt after seeing you all covered in blood and pieces of organs.

୨୧ Your delicate and fluffy pink dress being painted by the vibrant red color of blood along with small pieces of the members of the enemy team's organs.

୨୧ Your chainsaw as pink as your dress, turned on and sawing your enemies in half without mercy, the sound of the chainsaw almost drowning out the enemy team's spy screams of pain.

୨୧ You turned off your chainsaw, leaving it aside stuck in the spy's stomach, you dashed away from the gory scenario you caused, pulling out a knife with a pink decorative bow on it, you were laughing like a maniac, ready to stab some bitches.

୨୧ he already was terrified by the thought that he understimated you who turned out being an total psycopath, and the sight he had of you chasing the other team's scout like your life depended on it didnt help at all.

୨୧ "IM GONNA USE YOUR HEAD AS MY DECORATION WALL YOU FUCKING BRAINLESS DEER" you shouted in the most terrifying, shivering voice chasing the enemy scout that was screaming like a fucking siren for his life.

୨୧ after the battle was over, Scout got real quiet around you, he wouldnt apologize or anything, he just would silently avoid talking to you.

୨୧ you noticed that, of course, but you didnt care at all, because you had other things to attend to.

୨୧ After a while, Scout little by little started trying to interact with you, to, you know, take away that guilt that he was excluding you from behind his back (or the fear that you will suddenly appears in his room to take all of his teeth out while he sleeps as revenge).

୨୧ and it turns out you're a chill person when not in killing mode or when your in "dont talk to me" mode, Scout hitted himself internally for subestimating you AGAIN.

୨୧ You two turned to be great friends in the end, but he still gets the creeps from you because of your brutal habits.

୨୧ he stays away from your room AT ALL COSTS.

୨୧ Seriously, the last time he entered your room without knocking, he witnessed you performing an creepy blood ritual with an Spy head (you TOTALLY didnt steal it from medic).

୨୧ You just waved to him like what you were doing was totally normal.

୨୧ But when hes not scared of you, he jokes with you alot, especially in the battlegrounds, he uses you as a threat alot to the enemies, or as a special weapon.

୨୧ "SAY HELLO, TO MY LITTLE FRIEND" he screams as he pulls you out of nowhere and throws you in the enemy heavy's face like a fucking bug.

୨୧ One time, you decided to pull a little prank on him, you hid yourself in his room's shadows, and when he finally entered, you jumped on him with the most terrifying screech ever.

୨୧ Lets say that Scout turned into Ariana grande that day.

୨୧ "ooo yeah your real scary." Scout said trying to keep his "toughness" after the most girly, feminine high pitched, chipmunking scream ever.

୨୧ meh, cant say that i see him dating someone as cruel as you, so 100% platonic

⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ MEDIC ୨୧

୨୧ OH NO, NOT HIM.

୨୧ Ok, i dont think he would take a liking to you at first, he would just ignore you, only thought he would have about you is that the way you dress is cute, but he would assume you were weak.

୨୧ Another one who would understimate you, the only difference is that he wouldnt mock you, its Medic, hes more mature than Scout. (anyone is more mature than scout.)

୨୧ He wouldnt even bat an eye on you, at most only wave or greet you shortly because he knows you're eerily quiet and doesnt really have a big habit of talking, until you two were in battle.

୨୧ He was healing heavy that time, and thats when he saw you stabbing an enemy demoman in the cheek repeatedly. your maniacal laughs almost silencing the demoman's screams and begs.

୨୧ He was STUNNED, he swore that he started seeing everything going in slow motion, your silky hair moving with each brutal and fast movement you did, the scarlet liquid flying into your delicate face and soft hair.

୨୧ You finished the demoman with only one hard and brute swing with your arms, your little delicate hands clutching the knife handle so hard that they were a little bit red, and with only one hard moviment, you carved your knife into the demoman's head.

୨୧ “Look! now your an unicorn” you mocked the now dead demoman infront of you, before grabbing your pink knife decorated with your enemy's blood and brain, getting up and running away like a possessed bug.

୨୧ The ex doctor's heart was beating like crazy, he didn't know what caused him to fall for you in that moment, you killing the man so brutally, or if it was your delicate pink clothes being dyed with blood. (or maybe both)

୨୧ After the battle, you could feel medic burning holes into you, he was staring you like crazy, not that it bothered you, it was just unusual for people to stare at you like that, especially when no one really dares to look at you out of feat.

୨୧ Medic would try to strike some conversation with you regardless if you answer him or not, he would just be happy with you listening to him.

୨୧ The thing that Medic most likes in you is how you can balance your cute aesthetic with your creepy habits, its really impressive to him, for him its either one or another.

୨୧ When he saw you doing your blood rituals, he would be interested, since.. you know, he already got involved with the devil himself, sometimes if you need he'll gift you with a kidney or two.

୨୧ "Well, my friend, i must say that i have subestimated vou in the first time we've met! i should judge a book by its cover less." he would confess in a casual discussion between you two.

୨୧ I think he would ask you out by gifting you a head with a note attached written: "will you steal organs with me?" real cheesy but creepy.

୨୧ He used uber on you once, not really a good idea... for the enemy team.

୨୧ You were tearing bitches left and right, there was guts and blood everywhere, in your face, body, floors, walls, EVERYWHERE.

୨୧ You only stopped when you met your demise, and medic was admiring you the entire time.

୨୧ Medic likes your killer-machine behavior, he says it adds to your cuteness ♡

#team fortress 2 #X reader #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #medic tf2 x reader #scout tf2 #scout x reader #tf2 #fanfic #headcanons #tf2 x reader #tf2 fanfiction #x you #feminine reader #cute gore #୨୧ cherry works

[talewrites]

Fragile Part 5

Another fluff chapter! Gonna be getting to the juicy angst after this 👀✨

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: wholesome, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Of course!!! The somatic consequences of their hyperactive stress caused a delayed growth! Their adrenal glands had been over active the whole time they were in captivity, leading to hypertension and extreme exhaustion.”

“Use real words brainiac.” Raph grunted.

“Well, basically after they had enough rest and worked through all their pent up stress, they were able to control their adrenaline response. That’s how they were able to naturally trigger their mutation gene! Fascinating.”

“So uuuuh, what does that mean?” Mikey added helpfully.

“It means that Stockman’s mutation experiment worked, and we need to ensure that he never finds that out. Who knows what Karai and the Foot would do with that kinda power?” Leo interjected.

“Since Stockman is distilling diluted mutagen from Bebop and Rocksteady’s blood, the effect of a successful animal mutation is highly unlikely. From the information I gathered from his experiments overseas, it appears that only 2% of his test subjects had permanent animal mutations. So the statistical likelihood of achieving the perfect hybrid of human and animal DNA with an impure source of mutagen is less than 0.00001%! It’s honestly a scientific miracle that their mutation appears to be stable in the first place!” Donnie rambled.

At some point the plates were taken out of your hands and you were sat down in a chair at the table next to April. April had her hand on your shoulder while listening to the boys talk about what to do. You had stopped listening a while ago. Your eyes had gone vacant. The sounds in the room felt so far away, like you were underwater. It felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“So what? If it’s that hard to do then we got nothing to worry about.” Raph said gruffly and folded his arms.

“Not necessarily. If Stockman gains access to a form of stable active mutagen, then the success rate of mutation goes up to 40%!!! He could make an army…”

“An army of mutants.” Leo said solemnly.

“Aw man, come on! Bebop and Rocksteady are already a pain in the ass. Stockmans gonna make more of them?” Mikey griped.

“Not if we can help it.” Raph said, fixing the toothpick between his lips.

“So what does that mean for (y/n)?” April spoke up, chair squeaking as she stood up.

“It means, if Stockman gets his hands on (y/n), it’s game over.”

You were barely aware of your surroundings. You were scared. So so scared. Whatever Dr Stockman did to you, it worked. It made you into a weapon. You can’t stand the thought of what he’d do if he ever got his hands on you again. Memories of your time in the lab flashed through your mind. You started to tremble and you felt something wet slide down your cheeks.

“What should I tell the police?” Casey asked from where he stood in the circle.

“Tell them to keep an eye out for any Foot activity and report it back to us. We need any leads we can on where they’re hiding Stockman. And whatever you do, don’t give away (y/n)’s location. We need to keep them out of reach.” Leo ordered Casey.

You felt something warm engulf your trembling hands. It was… grounding. A calm feeling washed over you.

“Take deep breaths.” You heard a voice say next to your ear. You took in a slow deep breath, and a shuttering exhale. Then again. And again. You slowly began to feel yourself coming back to your body. When you finally blinked away your tears into consciousness, you saw Master Splinter standing by you, patient and holding your hands in his own.

“You are safe here. Do not worry about the past. Let my sons handle it, they are strong and will protect you.” The old rat reassured you.

You sniffed a bit and raised your hand to wipe away some of your tears, and nodded. “….thank you.” You said earnestly. Your voice was horse and heavy with emotion.

Master Splinter went to put the kettle on for tea, while the others finished talking and split up into their assigned jobs. Donnie and Leo went to Donnie’s computer station to coordinate what route to take for patrol, Casey got on the phone with the police commissioner to ask about the locations of recent Foot activity, Mikey and Raph were in charge of cleaning up the kitchen for you, and April disappeared to somewhere in the lair.

Splinter returned to you later with a fresh cup of tea, and sat with you quietly at the table while Raph and Mikey bickered over drying the clean plates. He sipped his tea while he quietly kept you company, giving you time and space to fully calm down. Eventually Mikey came over to join you and Master Splinter while Raph went to go help April carry some large wrapped supplies to somewhere in the back of the lair. You relaxed into your seat and enjoyed watching Mikey’s overly animated retelling of his valiant battle in one of his new video games.

“(Y/n)?” Leo came over to check on you a little while later.

“How are you feeling? Do you feel any muscle soreness or headaches?” Donnie was standing behind Leo holding a laptop.

You sighed. “I'm fine. Maybe a little bit of a headache…” You said honestly, finishing the rest of your tea.

Leo and Donnie exchanged a look that you did not miss.

“We…. were wondering…. if you would like to join us for some training?” Leo asked you tentatively.

You looked between the two suspiciously.

Donnie coughed totally inconspicuously into his fist. “Well,… we want to test your mutation’s ability. Strength, speed, reflexes, etc…. O-only if you’re okay with it, that is.”

Splinter sighed and sipped more of his tea. “Perhaps, that would be for the best.”

You looked to Master Splinter with surprise. You had been watching the boys train every day since you entered the lair, but there had never been an invitation to train with them. Splinter’s training looked extreme, and that was only putting it lightly. You knew the turtles had been training since they were little, and it certainly showed in their skill. You were intimidated to say the least.

“Really? Are you sure?” You were hesitant.

Master Splinter answered by setting aside his tea and standing up. “No need to worry, we will start with the basics. Follow me.” Splinter walked past a stunned Mikey, Leo, and Donnie in the direction of the dojo.

You stood up and followed behind him nervously. You passed by Raph and April who had emerged from one of the unused storage rooms. Raph looked surprised as you and Splinter walked into the dojo. He looked over at his brothers and pointed at you.

“Are they….?”

Leo Donnie and Mikey nodded quickly and scrambled over each other to get a good spot in the dojo. Raph and April shared a look and dropped what they were doing and rushed after them, passing a very confused Casey that had just gotten off the phone.

“Raphael. Please wrap their hands. Leonardo, please prepare to teach them the first basic katas.” Master Splinter ordered with ease. His tail flicked as he walked over to take his position in the dojo.

Raphael obeyed without complaint, and grabbed his boxing tape. You looked up at him anxiously, certain this was the closest you had been to Raphael since the night he carried you here.

You looked up at Raph with those big doe eyes of yours and had him feeling nervous. He started to wrap your hands up as gently as he could. He gulped at how small and dainty your hands were in his big steady grasp.

Finishing up, he nodded over to Leo and the leader in blue stepped up.

“Okay, when you’re ready, I want you to try and follow my form as closely as you can.” Leo planted his feet firmly on the tatami and gracefully moved in a form that looked like basic Tai Chi.

You followed Leo’s instructions for a while, did some stretching and warming up, and then your teacher switched. Michelangelo tutored you next on dodging, then Donatello on redirecting an enemy’s attack to use against them, and finally Raphael on how to throw a proper punch.

You did your best to copy, checking to make sure your feet were lined up with your shoulders and that you followed all the way through with the motion. Raph then came over as you continued the motion and made small corrections in your stance and how you held your fist.

“Donatello. Please stand with a plank in front of Miss (y/n).” Splinter ordered.

Donnie scampered over with a small wooden board. He adjusted his tech goggles over his eyes and licked his lips as he took a firm stance holding the board a foot in front of you.

Everyone paid close attention, seemingly excited to see your mutant strength in action again. You looked at him nervously and glanced at Master Splinter for assurance. You were a little scared about what your mutation might do. You took a deep breath, adjusted your stance, aaaaand-

tap.

Your stance crumbled as you moved to cradle your bruised knuckles.

“Oooow…” You hissed, and couldn’t stop the embarrassment showing on your face.

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” Leo deadpanned.

“Huh. I don’t get it, they shattered that plate like it was a cracker.” Donnie said, straightening back to his full height.

“Dude, maybe it only works on dinner plates.” Mikey added helpfully. April elbowed him in his side. “Ow- hey! I said maybe!”

“How about we just…. Try that again. You have to throw your whole weight into your fist. Okay?” Raph patiently adjusted your stance and squared you up to try and punch the board again, Donnie at the ready. Raph held his hands on your shoulders and tried to direct your movement to demonstrate how to shift your weight, when suddenly some movement in your peripheral vision caught your attention.

Before your mind could even register the idea of danger, you ducked.

Raph also stepped back out of the way of a tail whip. Your attention turned to Splinter, eyes wide and alert.

“Good. Your natural instincts are strong, use that to your advantage. Michelangelo, Leonardo, step forward.”

You watched as the four brothers lined up to face Master Splinter, you timidly joined them.

“We are going to play a game to assist Miss (y/n) in honing their mutant abilities. Are you prepared?” He asked you.

You paused a moment then nodded, feeling a bit brave and ready to give it a shot. “Yes.”

“Good. Your goal is to stay out of reach. The boys will try and capture you by stopping your movement. They will be gentle with you, rest assured. But pretend that they are Foot ninja. You need to learn to use your mutant skills to avoid danger.” Master Splinter explained.

You weren’t sure what the trigger was that made your mutant DNA activate, but you were determined to figure it out if it meant staying out of Dr Stockman’s reach. You nodded and took on a stance that Leonardo had taught you, while the boys all moved to different corners of the room.

“Good. Hajime!” Splinter signaled the start of the exercise. First Michelangelo ran over towards you and you ducked out of the way, getting behind him. Donatello tried to sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around you but you dropped to the floor and rolled away. Next, Leonardo swept your legs out from under you and you fell on your back. But you quickly used your momentum to jump back on your feet and backed up to put some distance between you and Leo. You were focusing too much on Leo when you suddenly bumped into Raph, who wrapped his arms around you and startled you enough to make you yelp.

A strange sensation overtook you. You felt a surge of energy fill your body with power and your body started moving on its own. Following the steps of the move you practiced earlier with Michelangelo, you reached up behind you and wrapped your arms around Raphael’s neck, then pulled forward and down with your whole weight, sending Raph curling forward and was flipped onto his back. He laid there eyes wide and stunned, mirroring the expression of everyone else present in the room.

You looked at Raph in shock, then down at your own hands, not fully believing it. Then suddenly the room erupted in whoops of cheer.

“YOOOOO!!! NO WAAAAAY!” Mikey excitedly cheered, grabbing hands with April to jump around excitedly.

Leo relaxed into a cheerful grin, and Donnie was snickering and snorting. Raph sat up with a half grin and you ran over next to him to ask if he was okay.

He rubbed the back of his head tenderly. “Way to go, Tiger.” He smiled at you and you took a sigh of relief.

Master Splinter was stroking his beard thoughtfully with a pleased expression on his face.

“It seems to me that you are at your highest strength when you are caught off guard. But I’m sure with practice you will find a way to harness your power when needed.”

Donnie came over and ruffled your hair while Leo offered Raph a hand to pull him up. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. Afterwards it was time to call it a night.

Later that week, one evening you were getting ready for bed in Leo’s room. You heard a knock next to the door.

“Just a moment!” You said while finishing pulling on your sleep shirt.

You walked over to the doorway and parted the fabric to see Mikey standing there with barely contained excitement.

“Come on, I wanna show you something.” He was clearly giddy over something. You thought he might have gotten a new high score on his video game and wanted to show you, but to your surprise he led you down the hallway in the direction of the rest of the boy’s bedrooms. Maybe it was something in his room? But then he walked right past his room and stopped in front of their storage room. You were even more confused now.

A warm glow peaked from underneath the door, and with Mikey’s encouragement, you opened it.

“Surprise!!!”

Everyone was inside waiting for you and with the big reveal. You were greeted by a freshly painted room and a queen sized bed with new sheets and a heavy knit blanket. Fairy lights hung around the walls. A wooden desk and a fuzzy plush chair stood along the far wall with a lamp illuminating a new notebook and an old laptop that Donnie had been working on fixing up. Next to it was a bookshelf with old used books and your favorite salvaged DVDs and games. You brought your hand up to cover your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Is this… for me?” You asked tentatively.

Donnie stepped forward, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, we figured you would need your own room. Since you’ll most likely be staying with us for quite some time.”

“It was April’s idea. Plus, we figured you’d want your own space, to make you feel more at home here.” Leo said, stepping forward with a grin.

“Yeah!! And I can’t watch late night cartoons with Leo sleeping on the couch all the time!” Mikey complained from beside you earning a jab from Raphael.

“Girls need their privacy. This was the room I used to use when I’d sleepover from time to time, but then it stopped getting used and became overrun with junk. We figured it was time to clean it out and put it to good use.” April said with a happy smile.

“Yeah, and April and I can keep doing grocery store runs for you if you want to keep cooking. God knows it's easier than lugging down 2 dozen pizzas and junk food every week-.” April nudged Casey to shut him up.

Master Splinter stepped forward, holding a small beautiful bonsai tree with vibrant yellow leaves, and handed it to you. “Right now, things may seem new and strange. You have experienced hardships most can never hope to imagine. But you have a home here as long as you wish it. By bond and blood, you are our family, and we will always be there to protect one another.”

Your tears spilled over and ran down your cheeks. You reached out to Master Splinter for an emotional hug. “Thank you… everyone… I don’t know what to say…!” You sniffed.

Raph grunted, “No need. This is our thanks to you for fixing up the place. Just… don’t go flippin’ me no more.” He teased with a grin.

“Nooooo! Don’t say that!! I haven’t gotten it on tape yet!” Mikey complained.

“I’ll send you the video later.” Donatello whispered to him.

“Oh, sick. Right on.”

Raph glared at them.

The next morning, Casey got a call from his supervisor that the Foot Clan had been discovered smuggling stolen chemicals into the Sacks building. But something seemed fishy about it. The Foot were not normally this obvious when moving things around the city. It felt like they wanted to be discovered.

It felt like a trap.

Part 6

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel @blackrockshooter780 @l-n-g-t @peachesdabunny @silverwatergalaxy

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

#tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader #tmnt imagines #bayverse donatello #bayverse raphael #tmnt fanfic #bayverse raphael x reader #bayverse leonardo #bayverse michelangelo

[candywife333]

Damn, Dude's Horny

PART 5 of Just Want to See you Like That

This series is based on Jungkook's 3D and is probably going to have close to 6-7 parts, depending on where the storyline takes me. I'm feeling a bit dramatic, so expect a lot of angst. Tumblr is going to be referenced in this fic under a different name, Bumblr (I know, totally goofy name).

Summary: Y/N, an overworked employee at HYBE , only ever posted on Bumblr when she was feeling cornered. It was truly her escape. She didn't really do insta or even twitter. Most people would look at her and think this glass wearing quiet girl would most probably be posting pics of flowers and cute animals. But no, looks could be deceiving. Y/N's posts were far from innocent. In fact , they were borderline risque. She didn't expect anybody but a few horny people to come across these pics; people who would view and compliment in the best case scenario. What she didn't expect was that a certain star would be a regular consumer of her material. A star that technically had no business simping after her like that.

Disclaimer: This work is not representative of the real Jungkook's personality and behavior. It is merely fiction and please treat it as such.

Trigger Warning: voyeurism, exhibitionism, may or may not have dub-con later on

Please don't read the fic if any of these themes are disturbing or offensive to you.

Taglist is open

I grumbled under my breath the entire way back to my house. I still couldn't believe I was going back home with my literal harasser; a guy I barely knew. I thanked the cab driver and grabbed Jungkook to help him out of the car. His majesty obliged my poor effort by grabbing one of my tits with his right hand and my back with his other, shoving his face into my collarbone , hot breath gliding over my skin, making me shiver.

Climbing up a flight of stairs with a heavy man leaning on me would not be pleasant. But with some grunting and cursing, I finally got him up to my solace, my beautiful home; the one redeeming quality in my life. My grandmother had left it to me. Initially it was a house with two separate floors, with separate kitchens on each floor. The floors were connected by a staircase, but were otherwise two separate units. With the tough financial constraints of having to fund my own life, I leased the bottom floor to a renter, so I could get some sort of passive income to save in my bank account.

In my opinion, the top floor was the best floor. I kept a beautiful terrace filled with a full nursery of flowers of many varieties and vegetables aplenty for me to cook with. With how much produce I got from my garden, I barely had to venture out to the farmer's market for fruits and vegetables. My roses, my babies were all lined up in a row, merely swaying with the night breeze. Placed right next to it was my sofa swing, adorned with fairy lights in the center.

Gazing at my little plant babies to calm me down, I placed Jungkook on my sky blue comfy roll out sofa. He would be sleeping on it tonight. Placing a cup of water and 2 ibuprofen pills on the coffee table next to his sleeping form, I pushed him onto his side to ensure that he wouldn't choke on his own spit and die.

I walked into my bedroom, showering quickly and put on a pink babydoll lace top and matching shorts. I turned off my lamplight, getting my alarm ready for the next day.

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

I got up in the morning in a surprisingly good mood, despite what had transpired the night before. I opened my window, feeling the cool breeze filter in. My only suitors, the bevy of morning glories outside my window had changed into a mauve shade in the presence of weak sunlight.

I decided to forgo my robe. It was my house, why should I feel uncomfortable in it? He was the unwelcome guest. I ventured out to see him sprawled out onto the pull out couch still knocked out. I don't know how a human being could look so ethereal even with drool dripping down his chin. I guess that's what glutathione drips, thousands of dollars spent at a dermatologist, and good genes does for a person.

I decided to whip up a hearty breakfast before heading into work around 10 AM since there wouldn't be much to do today. I worked on dicing vegetables for the japchae I would make and got some salmon out to lightly fry with a marinade. I made a few omelettes, cutting up a few of them into tiny strips to go with fried rice for lunch. The last item to be made was kimbap stuffed with chicken and spicy mayo sauce I had already made yesterday.

As I was busy getting everything together, I failed to notice the man slowly waking up near me.

Jungkook's POV

I woke up to what seemed to be the faint noises of cooking. It was quiet except for some soft humming and the faint sizzle of oil simmering in a pan. The smell was spectacular, the scent of meat and noodles permeating the place. I sat up slowly to be greeted by a sight so different from what I was prepared for. The house was very quaintly decorated, like something in a movie about fairies and elves.

There were two humongous bay windows filled with soft looking pink cushions next to them and numerous other sofa cushions strewn over the house giving the place a cozy feel. Daylight filtered in and I caught the sight of humongous maple trees and flowers of different varieties clustered outside the windows. A wind chime sat next to the window, making faint musical harmonies with the birds chirping outside.

The place looked like a cross between a tree house and a cottage, yet somehow furnished with cozy interiors of pink and baby blue. I couldn't believe a place like this existed in Seoul. It must be super expensive to acquire this space.

My cheeks blushed as I was met with an even more delectable sight, Y/N was at the kitchen, back faced towards me. She was cooking something at the stove, expertly flipping what seemed to be numerous omelettes and grilling fish. It was my lucky day. Her scrumptious ass was faced towards me. She was in a dainty baby doll dress littered with little flowers, her ass framed by pink silk shorts that barely covered her. Her thick thighs and voluptuous butt were even more accentuated as she bent upwards to reach for something in a cupboard above.

If she looked so perfect from the back, I couldn't wait to see what she looked like from the front. I had never seen her so scantily clad, and I was already frothing at the mouth. She was my dream girl when I found her online, and after seeing her in person, I merely confirmed my prior assumption. She was definitely the one for me. Her sassy mouth, confidence, strength, and her beautifully addictive body could not go to any other man but me.

She turned around and as my jaw dropped seeing her plentiful cleavage spilling out of the bounds of the top, begging to be squeezed and kissed, she quirked her eyebrow at me, "Aren't you going to leave now? Wouldn't want your presence disturbing my brunch".

taglist: @fortunecookiesworld, @sporadicarcadebanana

@darkuni63 , @jessicalynn85 ,

#chubby reader #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x plus size reader #eventual smut #curvy reader #bts #angst #self love #smut #chubby reader x bts #chubby reader x jungkook #chubby reader smut #y/n x bts #y/n x jungkook #jungkook 3D #jungkook x chubby reader smut #jungkook fanfic

[ben-drowned-me]

hi! could you write some general hc for Jeff and Toby? Also could you talk about more about your canon plsss?

✧.* gen jeff and toby headcanons

-aaa of course !! i love jeff and toby so much

for my canon, I like to think that i just kind of make the characters more real. For most of their original canon stories, or for the fanon versions of them, their characters are made to be just killing machines with a little bit of angst and the story of whatever caused it. I base them off my favourite versions of their stories (or combine), but i give them flaws and little quirks that make them into an actual character rather than a person. I also try to write in how they are all traumatized people because thats usually brushed off. I wouldn't mind going into more detail if you'd like :3

jeff the killer

 incredibly close with liu before everything went down, now he just feels guilty being around him

hardcore metal and punk fan. Screeching Weasel, Benighted, To The Grave. stuff like that

Has night terrors. Rooms with Ben because he's the only one who can calm him down when he awakes. 

Soft spot for animals (usually prefers cats but doesn't say anything to Smile)

Grew up in a very strict catholic family

Is the self-proclaimed "white boy" of the mansion but is hispanic

Pushes his emotions away until something really triggers him

When he finally gets triggered, it does not end well

Full breakdowns. Rage, Depression. He goes through all of it in the span of like 2 days. 

Everyone gives him space except Ben

No mirrors in his room. Avoids ones outside

phantom pain from the burns 

he looks absolutely atrocious. Probably the worst of all the creeps but to be fair he went through severe body trauma

For a grown man, he's on the skinner side 

still really fucking strong though

Can't sleep without noise. One of the reasons he rooms with Ben so much bc hes loud

Messy room. Does not clean, does not know where anything is

only really uses the top of his face to show emotion because he's scared of re-opening his mouth scars

He would spend hundreds of dollars at bath and body works but all the scents he picks up would clash so badly

the kind of guy to say no when someone asks for something but then get 3 of it

listens to british rap unironically

toby rogers

mentioned before, but hates waffles. Any classic breakfast food he dislikes but those are the worst

a collector. His room is filled with small little trinkets he's picked up. Has a rock or button collection

Probably the worst of the creeps emotionally

Was raised in a pretty toxic environment.. Never learned how to manage his emotions. Has too many of them and they change too often so he kind of just. explodes

Usually extreme rage or goes nonverbal

is autistic idc

very ! bad ! ptsd

nervous around male authoritative figures

initially refused to eat at the dinner table since it was a requirement of his fathers, but is getting better at it

soft spot for kids, will let sally dress him up and do his makeup

religious guilt though he was never religious

finds EJ to be very good company, he enjoys the atmosphere

speaking of EJ, he taught Toby a lot of medical care since he's not always available

sleeps on the floor pretty often

kind of an asshole sometimes

master of sarcasm tbh

#creepypasta #ticci toby #jeff the killer #creepypasta incorrect quotes #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

do you have any opinions on the hazbin critical and vivziepop critical tags?

tw // mentions of sexual abuse and sucide

I have a personal beef with them. And not because I love Hazbin and Vivzie so much but for more presonal reasons so the following opinion won't be measured at all.

Now, don't get me wrong, there are some legit criticisms out there. Like, the show could definitely do better with body diversity and giving us more varied sapphic relationships instead of just throwing a ton of male/male couples at us. And, yeah, Vivzie's response to some of the criticism has been... questionable. (I still cringe when I think about that one time she explained that Raphielle can ship ValAngel because they are sa survivor, but Raphielle explicitly admitted to not be one).

But then, there's stuff that's just... pulled out of nowhere. Like the whole thing about Valentino being a "fetish character." Come on, the world of villains is filled with queer, flamboyant baddies. What sets Valentino apart is how his abusive behavior is shown in the open, making us rethink our love for villains. If it weren't for Mascarade, people would worship this moth daddy gangster in a dress, much like they are with Vox now. It's hard to root for the bad guy when you see the fallout of their actions. Like, Loki committed war crimes and no one was outraged when he got his own TV series and dragged creators for supporting atrocities.

Constant Valentino/Angel Dust discourse actually leads to the more serious issues I have with this "community", more harmful than just "bad media literacy" like the way they handle the topic of sexual abuse and weaponize it, without ever listening to victims. There is this constant shitstorm about Angel being a "bad sa survivor rep," that the way he's written is insensitive because "he shouldn't be horny, he's sexually traumatized." Like, do these people not understand that making Angel unable to enjoy his sexuality the way he wants would essentially mean acknowledging that it's no longer his but belongs to his abuser now? Also, the argument I keep seeing that drives me BAT SHIT CRAZY aka "I can enjoy this media that is centered around murderer, you cannot enjoy the media that treats rapist as a nuanced character because rape is objectively worse than murder." WHO THE FUCK TOLD YOU THAT? Reading this makes me feel so angry and sad and guilty because frankly, I was raped, and of course, it was horrible but still I'd choose it any time over being murdered. Because I have my life, I'm loved, and I love, I pursue my dreams, and I can still experience so many good things in my life. Painting sexual assault as this worse-than-death experience is not the feminist take they think it is and does not do victims any good.

Or accusations that Vivzie's support of fandom bullying led to someone taking their life. It's such a ridiculous and harmful claim. Honestly, this thing always makes me heated because suicide is not an easy decision, ask any person who ever faced it. It's not like "ah, this stranger told me to kms, I guess I gotta do it now." Of course, any kind of bullying and abuse adds to the suffering and can be the final trigger, but to me, it's just so disrespectful and harmful that someone could have experienced prolonged, intense suffering and all of this is omitted, their death labeled as a result of "fandom bullying" and weaponized in fandom drama. Also, it's simply cruel to put the blame for it on one, uninvolved person.

Also, it always annoys me when people hold small creators to immensely high standards while not doing the same with others. If we keep lynching and canceling every media that is not objectively morally pure, we won't be left with only perfect media. We will be left with media produced by white, privileged billionaires who might be real-life rapists, abusers, and thieves but are too powerful to be taken down by social media outrage. Hazbin's success is a major W for the underappreciated medium of animation (we saw what WB did to 90% of their animated shows), unpopular genres like musicals (Wonka creators were literally too ashamed to market it as one??), and unapologetic queer narratives that are not written for a heteronormative audience or centered around queer oppression (ofmd, the other medium I can think of in that realm has just been canceled). I can't stand people so desperate to put it down driven by their black-or-white sense of morality. Kant won't be patting your back for being the Moraliest Person because you bullied an indie creator and her fans.

Also everyone who feels the need to explain me hazbin critical agenda - save your breath. I'm very emotional about it and I frankly don't fucking care why you think you are right.

#hazbin hotel #ask #tw sui #tw sa #vivziepop

[humiliatingsluts]

Power Corrupts: Part 8

Alex was spent. The man who had just raped her arse was one of the cruelest yet, he had slammed into her like a wild animal and his razor grip on her arse had probably left her with fresh bruises. She was relieved when the next man took her cunt, and his dick was small. Of course she was still sucking a cock, her mouth and jaw never got a rest while in free use. At least today no-one had pissed on her. It was the third day, Sunday, of her four day ordeal. While the piss from the first day was never truly washed off, she wasn't as gross as when it was fresh. Similarly, everyone had cum inside her so far. As twisted as it sounded, that meant this was a fantastic day.

Of course, that could change at any moment. The man in her mouth was very rough, and as he'd already had her lick his arsehole her whole face was covered in drool now. His cock was huge, and she struggled to deepthroat it. The man was getting more and more frustrated and kept grabbing her hair and pushing her down. She couldn't do more than she was, but he seemed to enjoy her gagging.

After an incredibly long blowjob, the man seemed to be close. He took a fistful of her hair and pushed her down harder and deeper than before. Alex tried to resist but he was strong. His cock hit the back of her throat and her gag reflex triggered, but the man didn't stop. In horror, she felt the spasm of puke run up her body and she coughed up thin messy vomit onto the man's cock. He grunted in approval and pushed deeper still, making Alex gag up some more puke again. He came, and the hot cum pushed her to puke a third time, bringing his cum up in a third mess.

The man chuckled and slowly pulled his cock from her mouth. He kept hold of her hair and pushed her face down, "Clean me up, slut." he commanded. Alex shook her head, gasping and panting for a moment's relief. "Don't fucking disrespect me." said the man and she felt the cruel zap of the electrical prod on her tit. But Alex couldn't do it. The thought of licking puke off this man's cock was too much. He zapped her over and over, getting more and more frustrated. Eventually he gripped her hair and pushed her face onto the table, wiping up the messy puddle of puke and spit with her face. Alex sobbed from the pain and disgust.

The man laughed, then pinched her nose hard until Alex had no choice but to open her mouth. He immediately pushed his half hard cock into her mouth and Alex nearly puked again at the taste of puke on his cock. "That's a good whore." he said approvingly as she broke down and sucked his cock clean. The man zapped her nipples again two or three times, and then spat on her face, before finally leaving her.

The next man looked at the mess she was in - her face plastered with puke, tears and spit, and grimaced in disgust. He asked the other waiting men if anyone needed a piss to clean her off. One stepped forward and began pissing on Alex's face. He actually did remove most of the puke and Alex almost felt grateful. Accordingly she opened her mouth and obediently sucked him, and at least three others who took the invitation to "clean" her with piss.

At long last the final men left, the last one cumming on her face and hair. Alex lay on the table for several minutes, feeling her body struggle to accept what it had been through. She had another day to go before the bliss of a shower, real food and no rape.

---

Follow HumiliatingSluts for new writing every Friday.

#my writing #power corrupts

[ghost-whump]

Hello hello!! <3 When you have the opportunity, and if this prompt sparks inspiration, could you write a scenario or a scene in which the whumpee is afraid of their friends/caretakers and is actively trying to escape, meanwhile the caretakers are genuinely trying to help their friend but they're making it really hard by not cooperating? Cause of said fear could be due to brainwashing, trauma, or general confusion...? Or perhaps the whumpee is a dangerous individual and the sadistic whumper had deliberately set them up to be found by the caretakers, knowing that they would trigger whumpee into harming/eliminating them?

...that's way, way too specific, isn't it?

oh sweet anon you have activated one of my favorite tropes of all time. unfortunately i’m not too happy with this one (probably from just not having a clear idea for what i wanted) but i still would like to post it! i hope you enjoy anyway <3

You’re Not Real

CW: hospital setting (though not particularly hospital whump), in-recovery, restraints, implied past drugging, delirious whumpee, self inflicted injuries, Let me know if I’m missing anything!

“Whumpee!”

Caretaker rose from their chair, where they’d stationed themselves next to Whumpee’s bed. For the last seven hours — since Whumpee had been mysteriously returned by some mysterious captor, battered and delirious — the terrified patient had not stopped fighting.

The hospital staff had at first tried to restrain them to the bed. That only agitated Whumpee further, giving way to a bout of trying to bite and plead and struggle harder, hard enough to cause the bruises on their wrists to worsen.

Now, after somehow managing to escape their padded restraints, Whumpee scrambled off the bed. Their IV and breathing tube fell to the floor before Caretaker could even fully stand.

“Whumpee,” They approached slowly, hands in the air, “Calm down, please? I won’t hurt you, it’s okay.”

Whumpee furiously shook their head, scrambling backwards. Teeth bared like an animal, Whumpee pressed their back into the farthest corner they could get.

Caretaker momentarily considered calling a nurse into the room, but eventually decided against it. Officials would only panic Whumpee more. Another step forward. Caretaker spoke, “See? I’m not going to hurt you. I’m your friend, Whumpee. It’s Caretaker.”

“No!” Whumpee shouted. They gripped their hair and tugged, staring up with wild, crazed eyes. “No! Go away!”

“Whumpee-”

“Go away! You’re—You’re not real! Go away!” They continued to shout, surprising not alerting hospital staff outside the room. “P-Please! I don’t want to see Caretaker! I don’t, I don’t, I don’t!”

“…You- You don’t?” Caretaker started to lower their hands. Whumpee said they weren’t real.

Whumpee pounded on their temples with the palms of their hands. “Get out of my head! Stop—Stop making me see- Get out, get out, getoutgetoutgetout!” Furiously, Whumpee babbled incoherent nonsense. But only when they started bashing their head on the wall behind them did Caretaker finally come to.

They began bashing the button to call nurses to the room, a few flooding in almost instantly. The staff quickly and efficiently restrained Whumpee once again, preventing them from hurting themselves further.

Once the ordeal was over, and Whumpee passed out from exhaustion, the weight of what had happened finally hit Caretaker. They grabbed onto the remaining nurse’s sleeve, looking up at them, furrowed.

Cautiously, “Has Whumpee been… drug tested?”

The nurse nodded, “Yes. The toxicology report was clear. They could have been drugged in the past, but nothing is in their system now.” She explained, then paused with a skeptical look, “Why?”

“It’s—It’s just… Earlier, when they were fighting, they said I wasn’t real. They were begging someone to get out of their head, like—like they thought they were hallucinating or something.”

Nodding slowly once again, the nurse looked back at their clipboard, then up at Whumpee’s sleeping form. “I’ll see what I can do.” A determined look fell over her face, “If they wake up again, call us in right away.”

Then, without another word, the nurse was gone.

Caretaker fell back into the chair. God, Whumpee, what have you gotten yourself into?

thank you for reading, even if it’s not my best work! there may be more errors than usual, since this was written very quickly.

if anyone’s interested, i’d very much like to keep exploring this topic!!

General Tag: @morning-star-whump

#my stuff #whump scenario #whump tropes #whump #whumpee #caretaker #hospital whump #recovery whump #whump writing #defiant whumpee

[aftgficrec]

Fics where Neil gets in a fight and actually wins!! I know it’s more commonly said that he can start fights and not finish them but let’s be for real, the boy was raised by two mafias and is scary as hell (I think i’ve seen someone ask this a while ago but i’m not sure if there’s an updated list) Mainly wondering for like post-canon fics, but au’s are cool too!

There’s quite a bit to discover on this topic, be that AU or in the context of canon.  Of course, Neil rarely comes out of these troubles unscathed, but he wouldn’t be Neil if there wasn’t also a little martyrdom involved.  You might find more on this under our bamf!Neil, butcher!Neil and occasionally raven!Neil tags.  Have a browse, and see if there’s anything you like. - S

Some previous recommendations:

BAMF!Neil here

BAMF!Neil 2 here

BAMF!Neil 3 here

BAMf!Andreil w/happy ending here

badass Neil here

Neil fights and wins here

A dark Neil here

Neil says it's fine i've had worse here

Neil protects Katelyn/the foxes/Andrew here

Foxes find out Neil's not soft here (see list of recs at top of post)

Neil hurts/kills in front of foxes here

new BAMF! or Raven!Neil here

dark!Neil & Andrew here

bad boy Neil here

Neil Josten: Moriyama spy here

Neil kills Nathan here

Killing Eve AU here

‘Skin Comes Apart (Angel in Lothian)’ here

‘Bound for Error’ here

‘turn out the lights’ here (completed)

‘From Dungeons’ here

‘Whiskey Sour’ here

‘Negotiations’ and ‘The Butcher's Hello’ here (updated)

‘Shake my Tomb’ and ‘Appendages’ here

‘The  Butcher’s Son’ here

‘it takes two (but you and i are one)’ here

‘monster (under my bed)’ here

post-canon (more or less):

Out for Blood by Aquared46 [Rated M, 27975 words, complete, 2023, locked]

"Neil’s first thought upon opening his eyes was that he was lucky to be in the trunk of a car instead of the back of a van. His second thought was that even if he survived this, Andrew might finally give into the temptation to kill him." AKA Neil is abducted and everyone has a bad time.

tw: kidnapping, tw: torture, tw: nightmares

born for this by dovegraye [Rated G, 1278 words, complete, 2023]

There are some parts of Nathaniel Abram Wesninski that Neil Abram Josten can’t ignore and refuses to play at trying anymore. This is one of them.

tw: violence

My Lover Writes Me Letters by AceSirenSinger [Rated M, 23018 words, complete, 2023]

He feels it again – the fury, of Neil’s taunting precision, of his expertise honed specifically for Andrew. It makes Andrew furious. Andrew has not felt anything since he woke up with his head on fire, in a room with a man made of compressed violence. *** Andrew loses his memory of the last five years, and forgets Neil. Neil martyrs himself because of course he does.

**tw: threatened rape/noncon between major characters**, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood/gore, tw: referenced animal cruelty and death, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: murder, tw: implied disordered eating 

five times neil beat the babygirl allegations, plus the one time he didn't by r3mus [Rated T, 7488 words, complete, 2023]

neil will NEVER beat the babygirl allegations in MY heart but, alas, he would probably punch me if i called him babygirl to his face.

tw: violence

Damnation by X0X0HauntedX0X0 [Rated M, 15572 words, incomplete, last updated Jan. 2022]

Unkind and ever familiar, that anger Lola had triggered earlier returned with sharp teeth and without mercy. He would rip his time from their hands by force, like he’d been doing every day since he was born. Lola was clever as the devil, but Neil had been raised through the loopholes. She couldn’t hurt his Foxes if she was dead. Or Neil is much more dangerous than anyone gives him credit for.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: torture, tw: blood/gore, tw: alcohol, tw: drugs

NB: fic art of post-torture Neil by @kazzyboy here

Maybe a Mobster by definitely_not_loki [Rated M, 1558 words, complete, 2022]

Neil Josten had transferred at the beginning of this season, and sure he'd been a nightmare for the team, but not in the "I was raised by a serial killer" kind of way. He was hard on the team—way harder than anyone had been before—and he wasn't even the captain. He was just some rookie striker from South Carolina. Most of the time she forgot he was anything but a rookie striker, but then someone would ask about his scars or call him a different name. Those were the few moments she remembered he wasn't just an asshole. He was an asshole with a past. So when The Event happened, she was terrified, horrified beyond all reason, but she was not surprised. Or, Neil is a badass motherfucker.

tw: violence, tw: blood

Neil has some bad habits. by evelynreads23 [Not Rated, 1068 words, complete, 2022]

Neil learnt things when he was young, how to wield a knife, how to hide a body. He was doing good and not thinking about it until someone was telling him he was a fan of the butcher. He was in a haze afterwards and freaked when Jack was being an asshole. This is Neil going to his roots but staying Neil, protecting Andrew and the foxes and not having fun when his past is brought up. Read at your own risk! :)

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: homophobia, tw: panic attacks

Dart Boards and Knife Fights by clumsylittlewriter [Rated T, 2983 words, complete, 2022]

"As if in sync, both of them dropped down into fighting stances and tensed their muscles. 'I apologize in advance if I end up killing you,' Nathaniel said, his voice dangerously quiet.  Natalie threw her head back and released a sharp peal of laughter, more malicious than anything Andrew had ever heard from her. 'Don’t get cocky, Butcher-boy,' she taunted, her eyes glittering with vicious glee. The Butcher’s smile reappeared on his partner’s face." (a game of darts reminds Andrew that Neil was raised by someone fascinated with knives)

All the masks I've left behind by SagaEllen [Rated T, 1879 words, complete, 2021]

Neil does not cry. Aaron asks for help. And everything is such a mess.

tw: knives, tw: violence

all for his foxes by Olympyas [Not Rated, 2469 words, complete, 2021]

If he wanted to defend his family Neil wouldn't be enough, but someone else would, just this time, just for them. This is how Nathaniel opened the door and managed to stop the knife threw at him. And that was familiar, It even became a reflex by now. They taught him. Lola taught him in a way he wouldn't be able to forget. Lola and Romero come for Neil directly at Palmetto and Neil defends his family.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: blood, tw: knives

AU:

Dead Ringer by HalloweenReaper [Rated E, 18892 words, incomplete, last updated Nov. 2023]

“Potential.” Riko slammed Neil against the wall again and whirled on Kevin. Kevin stared back at him, white-faced and tense. “You said that goalkeeper had potential and then wrote him off as useless when I offered him to you....” - The Foxhole Court, Ch. 13. Nathaniel was given to Ichirou as his private hitman after his skills as a marksman were revealed when the Moriyama tracked him and his mother down after they ran away. Riko decided to surprise Kevin with matching “pets” after he found out the goalkeeper Kevin was interested in had a twin. When Nathaniel is ordered to join the Ravens for a year to cover for a series of hits, his smart mouth meets Andrew’s prickly attitude and things get interesting.

tw: abuse, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: animal abuse, tw: panic attacks

Different Roads by frankelled [Rated T, 33944 words, incomplete, last updated Oct. 2023]

Nathaniel became Ichirou's 2nd when he was 10 years old. To protect Nathaniel from becoming a target no one can know, which leaves him in the Nest. When Kevin's hand breaks Nathaniel is in charge of protecting him from Riko, but now in Palmetto

tw: violence, tw: injuries, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: panic attacks

Andrew's Regret by pandaseek [Not Rated, 13860 words, incomplete, last updated Oct. 2023]

“The first three were all former foster parents of Andrew.” Piggins continued, unable to take a hint from the frosty office he’d admitted these things too. “No.” Aaron panicked, staring at Andrew in disbelief. “Andrew has never been…!” Wymack shifted his weight on the filing cabinet, reaching down to grab his trash can and passing it across Andrew in time for Aaron to grab it and spew a cascade of vile liquid into it, while Andrew pushed his chair onto its back legs and avoided all eye contact with those in the cramped office. Andrew knew who did this. The only person who had ever willingly gone to bat for him. A person he had mistakenly believed to be dead long ago; this was proof to the contrary. Except… Except that there was one name missing. - A prompt from Justthislazy, based on my original Lifeline, that I just had to pick up and run with. Thank you for the amazing idea!

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced csa

Promise, I Can Give You a Reason by maydaykevin [Rated T, 1689 words, complete, 2023]

Something else happens in the fated Millport locker room.

tw: violence

I'm An Accountant by boomba77 [Not Rated, 24101 words, incomplete, last updated Oct. 2023]

Abram Hatford is an accountant. A legitimate accountant. He may work for an infamous crime family, but his hands have been clean for years (of blood, at least). He is a translator and an accountant. He flies under the radar, his existence hidden from the public by his family, and he prefers it that way. For him, the words ‘safe’ and ‘unknown’ are synonymous. So, when one of the Hatford empire’s more lucrative businesses begins stirring up the wrong kind of attention and losing money as a result, the Hatfords require discretion and brains. Their elusive Abram is the only person for the job. Andrew Minyard is a part-time server at a random diner and a part-time bartender at The Den, where he spends most of his time drinking what he’s supposed to be serving. It isn’t until strange things start happening around the club that Andrew decides to pay a bit more attention to the shady shit going on at his work. And then, when a stranger shows up looking for work with a perfect resume and a symmetrical face, Andrew finds his suspicion, and his interest, double. All of the death and destruction is bad, sure, but at least it’s interesting. OR Waiting for death is not living.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: dissociation, tw: nightmares, tw: panic attacks, tw: scars

Rheostat by NeilfuckingJosten [Rated M, 14315 words, incomplete, last updated Aug 2023]

Nathaniel Wesninski, alias Neil Josten is finally out of the Nest and into the world of professional exy. Deadly, smart and worse than his father, Nathaniel will bring a storm into Andrew's quiet world. AKA, they meet in the pro's.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced abuse

I Was Ruined From The Start by BrokenPineTree [Rated M, 39021 words, incomplete, last updated April 2023]

Neil’s grin is audible as he replies. "Riko’s antics getting outed to the public would make him a liability. And I do remember telling you that threats need to be dealt with accordingly." Kevin's stomach lurches into his throat with the conclusions he jumps to. "So, you’re gonna go back to the Nest?" He asks quietly. Slowly. Unsure how to feel about Neil putting himself in that situation again. He can't do that, right? He has other things to worry about now. Neil hums disapprovingly. "Try again," He offers. Kevin does. "You're... coming to Palmetto?" The au where Kevin doesn't have full confidence in Andrew's ability to stand between him and his lurking demons after only spending a few months at Palmetto. But with the dangerous card itching to emerge from under his sleeve, does he really need to?

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: panic attacks

True Crime by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 1789 words, complete, 2022]

All Andrew needed was the WiFi password.

tumblr posts:

Neil Does Not Like when people mess with his people. by @hmmm-shesucks [tumblr, 2023]

Whenever any of the foxes are slightly inconvenienced by someone enough to complain about them, Neil always asks, “Do you want me to take care of it?”

tw: implied/referenced violence

Neil gets in a fight by @hmmm-shesucks [tumblr, 2023]

Neil gets in a fight on the court and it’s one of those where gloves are dropped and helmets are thrown and the punches are quick and hard.

tw: blood, tw: violence 

Neil is dangerous and Aaron knows it hc by @thefoxholestuff [tumblr, 2021]

I love the idea of Neil being the really dangerous one rather than Andrew and the Foxes all being Shook and Andrew being a gay disaster over it

Part 2 - an expansion 

here’s an expansion of my Neil-is-dangerous-and-Aaron-knows-it post,

one night the foxes are at edens and some guy starts to harass Andrew hc by @zipperuser103 [tumblr, 2021]

I know that Neil “starts fights that he can’t finish”, but I refuse to believe that he has no fighting skills at all.

tw: violence

Art

bamf!Neil  by @emry-stars-art

(Feat. BAMF? Assassin? Secret Agent? Neil) by @baylecn

Good boy, junior by @jayjuls

Killer In The Mirror by @allfortheslay25

Killing Eve AU by @rainbowd00dles

Wesninski looks good on you by @ouijacine

#fic #Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard #Neil Josten & the foxes #Neil Josten & Aaron Minyard #Neil Josten & Ichirou Moriyama #Neil Josten & OC #universe: post canon #universe: canon divergent #au: raven!Neil #au: butcher!Neil #au: different first meetng #au: spies/secret agents #au: bookstore #theme: angst with a happy ending #theme: bamf!Neil #theme: the mafia #theme: protectiveness #theme: slow burn #tw: violence #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #tw: implied/referenced abuse #tw: implied/referenced torture #tw: implied/referenced self harm #tw: animal abuse #tw: panic attacks #tw: dissociation #tw: homophobia #tw: implied/referenced disordered eating #tw: nonconsensual drug use #tw: blood