Tumgik
#splinter-proof
nintendont2502 · 1 year
Text
Brain Ghost Dirk is so fucking funny just like. Conceptually
You're only dating this guy because he asked you out before any of your other friends did (since apparently they're all hot for the br*tish Lara croft genderbend) and honestly he's a little too clingy, but also youre so obsessed with him that you subconsciously create a hope powered replica of him in your mind that you use to attack yourself with, and also he can take a physical form sometimes if you believe in him hard enough
Incredible stuff
48 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
nearly a month after my friends and I had our original talk about tmnt iterations and bathrooms, I realized the proof for my fave boys was right under my nose
34 notes · View notes
bones-sprouts · 1 year
Text
fun fact ab the tmnt iteration i have in my brain is mikey donnie and leo are all box turtles who were a part of the same mutation but raph is a painted turtle who was mutated a while later. he does not feel positively about this
3 notes · View notes
littlesilentrebel · 2 years
Text
it took me way to long to realize that the only reason i was so desperate for poseidon to be a (decent) good father to percy and for me to consume all good interactions with each other that it was because of my own daddy issues
9 notes · View notes
my-chemical-rot · 2 years
Text
When you put a playlist on shuffle & the first song you get is ginasfs 😐
3 notes · View notes
applepidotcom · 1 month
Text
Living life on the edge is fun because it means your professor helps take out a splinter that got stuck in the palm of your hand using alcohol swipes and a sewing needle and then you share half a cookie together that your classmate didn’t want anymore and it’s all in the name of ✨bonding✨ and living life with no fear
0 notes
sonoda-oomers · 1 year
Text
.
0 notes
dilfsfordinner · 7 months
Text
a/n- nanami has always been my favorite jjk man but BRO, he was something else in the new episode, they were definitely animating with one hand
warnings- doggy pos
—————————————————————————
“just.. just stay still,” nanami’s voice rasped against the shell of your ear, his muscly thighs slamming into the backs of your own, your spine pressed down into an impossible arch by his large hands, all tenderness flying out the window, a stark contrast to the usual sweet, love-making the two of you would have.
“why won’t you tell me what’s wro- mmhp!” your words were cut off by a particularly rough snap of his hips, his thick cock jamming against your cervix, releasing a barrel of electricity to shoot through your muscles. he was never usually like this, always making sure to treat you with the utmost respect and care, his actions and words tied by a boundary of love, never crossing into rough waters, said boundary apparently not strong enough to withstand an irritant, something causing his brain to turn muddled, his lack of speaking and animalistic thrusts just more proof along with the pure anger radiating off of him.
strong legs bracketed your lower half, his tall frame towering over you even while kneeling, his chest snug against your back as the top of your skull fit directly under the dip of his collarbones. nanami hadn’t really said anything since he’d gotten home, the only form of communication he deigned to use being grunts and huffs of pleasure.
you’d barely even had time to greet him when he’d opened the front door of your shared home, loud footsteps trudging toward you before grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder, your worried questions doing nothing to quell his anger or silent treatment, his only apparent goal being to get you to the bedroom. and that’s how you found yourself being stripped bare and fucked in such a humiliating pose, his long fingers fisting the headboard, white knuckles so tight you swore you could hear the wood splintering.
you were like medicine to him, your doting personality so sweet whenever he needed someone to vent to. not only was your character comforting, but your body too, sex being another way for him to let out his anger which you knew and you let him, not stopping him from plowing your cunt raw, just to get whatever was eating at him out.
“i- just let me have you… please,” he practically begged in the crook of your neck, lips ghosting your flushed skin as he continued to push in and out of you, clearly not ready to talk about whatever had pissed him off. taking his request to heart, you nuzzled your ass back into his hips, your cunt squeezing him as if in answer to his plea, to use you however he wanted. nanami groaned at this, one hand coming down to hold your waist, pulling you back onto his cock languidly, the two of you lost in each other as you let your bodies do the talking.
he leaned down to leave kisses along the top of your spine and shoulders, your pants higher-pitched from the stretch and burn of his cock, that renowned gentle character returning even while he was fucking you like an animal, still concerned over your comfort no matter how troubled he was mentally. “you’re too good to me,” he murmured into your hair, hips lazily rolling against your ass, your bodies pressed so close you actually felt the way goosebumps riddled his skin, and how rapid his heartbeat was against your back.
yes, you loved when he didn’t hold back with you, when he was rough and manhandled you into whatever position he could think of, but there was something about his kind-hearted, gentle persona that could never be topped, even if getting bent in half did feel incredibly good.
—————————————————————————
3K notes · View notes
sad-leon · 8 days
Text
what if i gave rise leo BPD...
his anger manifests in the form of self-sabotage and self harm. he asks donnie to sound proof his room when they get to the new lair so he can wreck it without concerning everyone else. before that he'd sneak to the surface and wreck an already messy alleyway
his self harm is recklessness. he gets hurt in fights as much as he can and still get away with just a "please be more careful" lecture from raph
speaking of raph, his oldest brother is his favorite person. so when raph starts to brush him to the side and distrust him, he doesnt take it well. when he does something to impress raph and all he gets is "finally..." thats when he disappears for hours and comes back home with sore arms and usually some scrapes and many bruises
he becomes a medic because they can't ignore him if he helps them. plus he can get better at hiding his breakdowns if he can take care of his own injuries
he wants to be in the spotlight so bad until the spotlight shines on him and suddenly his skin fits wrong
splinter and raph brush it off as teenage hormones. donnie shuts it out. mikey is the first person to realize leo's moods aren't normal, but he doesnt want to confront the fact the bpd comes from trauma, so he tries to support leo as best he can
april doesnt realize how much leo's mood shifts until she spends a night in the lair and realizes that leo isn't as hyper as he presents himself. he tries to mask, but he's too tired and the sudden silence from leo throws april off. it creates a rift between them. even when leo is happier around april, she knows somethings wrong- knows its not quite as genuine as she thought.
she spends more time around donnie than leo and leo thinks its for the best. eventually all his brothers- all his family prefer spending time with someone thats not him. he tells himself its for the better- the less time they spend around him, the less likely he'll be upset around them and end up making them upset
leo convinces himself he's meant to be alone and puts his all into being the team medic and spends the rest of his time alone and dissociating. he hates being the leader- having everyones eyes on him all the time. watching him. waiting for him to mess up- to act out- to prove they were right not to trust him
.... idk.. just a thought
466 notes · View notes
figonas · 1 year
Text
I’m sorry but you all aren’t listening, lyctorhood itself is not the “indelible sin” and you can pry this theory from my cold dead hands, honestly, maybe not even then. TazMuir herself could not dissuade me until she explicitly tells me otherwise. My proof for this you ask? Pyrrha’s conversation with Varun in NtN chapter 9.
But let’s backtrack for a second. John has stated that the resurrection beasts are after him and the lyctors for committing the indelible sin of lyctorhood, and as such the lyctors can never return to the Dominican System for fear of drawing the RBs back to the Nine Houses. I’ve never believed this was true given the fact that John is always the greatest common denominator when it comes to the presence of an RB and there’s no mention of an RB going after a lone lyctor. Sure, lyctors have been killed fighting resurrection beasts but there’s a huge difference between being caught in the crossfire and starting a firefight. For me, Nona the Ninth only reinforced that what we’ve been told is the “indelible sin” is either John misunderstanding the RBs (doubtful) or lying for his own purposes (more likely).
In chapter 9 of NtN, Nona recounts the story of her disastrous beach trip and towards the end of this recitation Nona says that Pyrrha;
“…crossed to the taped-up window, bottle and glass in hand. To Nona’s awe, she twitched the blackout curtains aside—stood bathed in the hyper-blue light from the sky as Nona held her breath—and she said to the window, “Here’s to Camilla Hect, yet another of devotion’s casualties,” and knocked back the glass. Then she said to the light, quite gently, “No, I don’t blame you, man … He was always looking for things to throw himself on.”
Pyrrha stands in front of Nona, bathed in the light of Varun the Eater, and proceeds to have a conversation with it. We only get one side but based on the context of the last line, “No, I don’t blame you, man … He was always looking for things to throw himself on.” Varun seemingly apologizes to Pyrrha for killing G1deon. It’s proven later on in the book that Varun can speak to Nona, and while it could be argued that since G1deon is dead and his soul is gone the “indelible sin” has been undone this still begs the question; why would the punisher apologize to the sinner?
If Varun and the other RBs are hunting the lyctors to dole out justice for their sins why would they apologize for doing the very thing they sought to do unless that wasn’t their true intent. The “indelible sin” is not the consumption of another soul, it is the consumption of a specific soul. It is John taking Alecto into himself, not being able to house all of her and instead making an exchange. Housing a piece of her in him, and a piece of him in her. Splintering the soul of a great and terrible force into manageable parts. Which explains Varun’s ominous presence hanging over the planet in the first place.
If RBs are hunting Lyctors there are no lyctors on this planet. Palamedes has not consumed Camilla’s soul, G1deon is gone, Harrow is in the River, Gideon is thumbtacked to her dead body, the only soul of any significance to Varun is Nona. Later on in chapter 13 Varun, by way of Judith, says to Nona;
“…what they did to you and what they wrung from you and what shape they made you fill—we see you still—we seek you still—we murdered—we who murder—you inadvertent tool—you misused green thing—come back to us—take vengeance for us—we saw you—we see you—I see you.”
And in chapter 27,
“….what did he do to you, to make you this way.”
What did HE do to you!!! what did HE do to YOU!! To give John credit he doesn’t deserve he may not realize it himself but the RBs have been looking for Alecto this whole time. They don’t want the lyctors, they want what John stole, they want the piece of Alecto inside of him. Want to make her whole again, their misused green thing. She’s almost there. She has her piece back from harrow’s body, united with the piece of her hidden in the locked tomb. She only has 1 piece left to collect. And god knows what will happen when the green and breathing thing is whole once again.
3K notes · View notes
tojisun · 1 month
Text
i'm going to move on. whatever it takes, i will forget.
this was something that you began to carry around, the weight of the words a burden to your shoulders. you feel weak. you feel lethargic. floating. like a body drowning in stagnant waters.
there is no one else that could pull you up, you know that. god, you know that, but you continue to fall. splintering. breaking.
a washed up star, devouring everything in its wake as it sputters in its futile attempts to live—is this not you?
is this not the way in which simon left you? pawing at the flesh of your body, nails digging in as you poke and scratch, hoping to gouge out the pulsing organ because maybe, just maybe, if you had no heart then you would not feel this way anymore.
because he left you like this: a broken person, unable to live. to breathe. food no longer tastes the same, your bedroom smells sour—it still smells like his old perfume—and no amount of opened windows can make the scent waft away. you can barely drink your water, you can barely stand underneath the shower.
he left you like this: a ghost of what once was, unable to let go of the memories. you hear the rumble of his voice even when you smother yourself with your sheets, you feel the ticklish touch of his fingers running down the planes of your spine when you lay on your side. the spring air feels too cold. the spring sun feels too hot.
you are a miasmic reaction. a person with no purpose. a museum of all of your love, no matter the end.
simon still leaves you messages:
"your friends say they haven't seen you for a while now, love. i hope you're doing just alright."
"i'm sorry. i always will be. please, take care sweetheart."
you think he is the devil whom old folks in your hometown used to talk about; the king of evil who comes in a beautiful visage, before sliding in your dreams to devour you from the inside-out. the malevolence who sucks the life out from every pore so that he may leave you stranded on your bed, in your house, on your own skin.
because if simon isn't the devil, then why does he torment you this way?
he calls you beautiful names like they don't mean anything to him; it makes you question if they even meant something to him then, before the breakup.
maybe they didn't. that hurts.
maybe they did—this hurts more. because why would he continue to call you these? why would he continue to remind you of what once was?
your fingers twitch, poised for a reply. poised for anything—a plea, a question.
you send him neither.
instead, you delete his contact and shut your phone off. you throw it underneath your bed before sliding back under your sheets, the backs of your eyes prickling as tears build. pooling. then, falling.
(a weeping star—)
your regret peaks the next day as you clamber to your bruised knees, stretching your gaunt body to pluck your phone out of the darkness. you turn it on and add him back to your message list, frantic, heart in your throat, only to stop short at the reality of what you've done.
his contact is a blank slate now, just as empty as you are.
the words that you used to cherish, the ones where he called you his beloved and his angel and his favourite person ever, are gone. the proof that he loved you just as much has all been deleted, all because of your error.
you sob again, anguish anew. bile rises from the back of your throat and you stumble to your feet as you rush to your bathroom, your body knocking against the door before tumbling onto the floor. you heave.
what a mess you've become, still unable to reconcile the fact that your lover is gone now.
lover—the holder of all of your love.
simon.
simonsimonsimon.
he's left you, truly.
this is it, forever.
how cruel, you think, weeping, your hands trembling as you wipe at the corners of your mouth. how could he leave me this way?
the grief bloats, and you cry.
you cry because it is all that you can do. all that you are left to do.
("why're you cryin'?" simon asked, his thumb gentle as it swiped at the skin just underneath your eyes.
"i've missed you," you replied wetly, voice all nasally from your tears.
he huffed a fond laugh, the puffs of his breath hitting the bridge of your nose. he turned to cup your cheek instead, his other arm falling to wrap around your waist.
"y'know i'll never leave you, yeah?" his eyes were crinkled in his smile. "i've got so much love f'r you, petal. leaving you isn't even something that i can see happening."
you sniffled, nodding, your lips wobbling as new bouts of tears fell. simon smiled before he pulled you to his lap, gentle and careful. you tucked your face on the crook of his neck, finding comfort in his touch.)
you peel your eyes open, cataloguing the phantom pain shooting from the small of your back to your hip. you shift, careful as you rouse from the cold floor of your bathroom.
you think you dreamt of something—a memory, perhaps—but you can't quite recall what it was.
the sharp throb in your heart clues you in on what it might have been, but you're too afraid to jog your memory because you know you wouldn't be able to handle thinking about simon again. it is going to be a long day, after all.
a long, empty day.
323 notes · View notes
trashmouth-richie · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
⋆·˚ ༘ * eddie x female reader
⋆·˚ ༘ * summary: what happens, when eddie makes plans without you?
⋆·˚ ༘ * tw: 18+ only, unprotected p in v! toxic relationship behavior, choking, reader is kind of crazy but it’s explained at the end, breaking shit, mean!reader, drinking, weed, knife use, pet names, nicknames.
⋆·˚ ༘ * 1.7k words, not proof read, pretend it is.
Tumblr media
Saturdays were usually your nights together. Spending the night at his trailer because it was guaranteed that Wayne would be gone. 
But tonight Eddie said he had “plans with the boys”. 
So imagine your surprise when Robin called you up and asked why you weren’t at Steve’s party, but Eddie was?
The ten minute drive felt like sixty seconds of pure rage filled hell. You only saw red, steam shot from your ears like a cartoon. 
And when you pulled up to Steve’s enormous house, Robin was right, because Eddie’s van was sitting out front. 
Your blood boiled and your cheeks felt like fire. Heart hammering in your chest,  you slammed the gear shift into park before the car could even come to a full stop. 
You didn’t care that he was here with his friends, what you cared about was the normal posse of skanky girls who were at Steve’s parties, one strawberry blonde in particular that rubbed you every way of wrong. Chrissy.
She was always hanging on Eddie any chance she got, batting her eyelashes, acting dumb to get his help in math. You’re so smart she’d whisper to him— even though the straight F’s on his paper definitely didn’t stand for Fantastic. 
Jason had dumped her and rumor had it she was looking to get back at him the biggest way she knew how, and that was t getting with the freak. 
Your freak. 
The sharp black points on your heeled boots clicked along the sidewalk as you stalked towards the house whistling an angelic sort of tune, swinging the wooden bat by your side. 
Jonathan was outside the lavish home, smoking a fatty and leaning against the raised brick garden bed. Upon first glance he waved, all drunken smiles and lazy greetings. 
It wasn’t until he saw what was in your hand that he finally pieces it together, and you asked him sweetly to kindly get Eddie because you had a message for him. 
The driver's side window broke with little to no effort, a few swings and it shattered into a pretty spider web of splintered glass, covering Eddie’s driver seat. 
The whistled tune never stopped from your puckered lips. Not when you flicked open the pocket knife and punctured the rubber tires, or when you carved a long jagged scratch into the paint down the aluminum body. 
It wasn’t until you were standing on the hood of the van, crashing the bat into the windshield did you hear the front door to Steve’s swing open, music fading through the night with each body shoving their way through the door, gasping at your surprise gift for your boyfriend. 
Someone, Jeff, you think— hollers for Eddie and you plant your ass on the hood, leaving a dent for sure by the way you plopped down like it was a trampoline. With legs crossed and twisting the bat between your palms, you wait patiently for the man of the hour to finally arrive, a smile on your black painted lips. 
By now there’s a decent sized crowd, all gaping mouths and wide eyes, some laughing but mostly struck with fear out of the freaks girl. 
He walks down the concrete steps, his heavy boots thudding against the hard ground. You can see the muscles in his jaw tense from where you are sitting, his knuckles tighten into a fist and his shoulders broaden and angle back, like he's trying like hell, not to yell out right by the look of the destruction you caused to his van. 
“Hi baby,” you greet, sugary sweet like you just brought him balloons on his birthday, “having a fun night?”
Eddie is seething, nostrils flared as he tries to even his breathing, “what did you do Lil?” 
“What?” You ask, turning your body to look at the glass splintered on the windshield and smashed on the ground, “oh, you mean all this? It’s pretty right?” 
Eddie drags his tongue across the front of teeth, sucking in a breath, “you’re kidding right?”
Unhooking your crossed leg you slam your heel into one of his headlights, the satisfying crunch of the plastic pieces littering to the ground, you smile pretty up at him, but he doesn’t bat an eye, “oh Eddie,” you tsk, “I don’t like jokes… or being,” the tip of the bat hits the other headlight with a crunch, “… lied to.” 
“Fucking Christ, what are you even talking about?” Eddie spits as he looks to Jeff then to Gareth. 
“Really? Then why did Robin call to say you were here with that bimbo Chrissy?” 
The crowd ooo’s as Eddie stomps towards you, his face struck with anger, the browns of his eyes completely black as he glared down at you, his necklace still swaying as he leans forward into your space, only malice in his voice. 
“Time to go,” he grunts, grabbing the bat from your hand and tossing it to the ground, “now.” 
“Nah,” you say, looking past him and waving at Steve, he returns the wave with a confused look at a silent gasp at the look of Eddie’s van, “I’m just getting started.” 
Steve tries to push everyone inside shows over! Let’s go! But nobody budges, waiting for the train wreck, unable to look away. 
Eddie pulls you from the van by your feet, your bare ass skimming the hood as your skirt lifts up, sure to leave a burn, you land on your feet, waltzing over to aforementioned blonde and taking her drink from her, downing the horrific liquid in a gulp. She’s too stunned to speak as you twist back around to catch a glimpse of Eddie, shooting him a wink. 
The knife tucked into the cute holder on your thigh comes out with a flick. Flashing the steel blade to Eddie, you wink before whipping back around to Chrissy just in time to catch her ponytail between your fingers. The knife cuts through her hair like a shear, close to her scalp beneath the emerald ponytail, her golden locks fisted limply in your hand. 
The scream she lets out is blood curdling and ugly, but you don’t mistake the laugh coming from Robin or Steve as Chrissy runs inside, her cheer squad hurrying behind to help their friend. 
“Wait! You forgot this!” You say shaking the blond strands towards the door, “I’m sure some glue or tape will hel—”
You're caught off guard as Eddie’s hand wraps around your wrist and starts dragging you away from the party back to his van. He wiggles the knife from your fingers and closes it on his hip, shoving it into his jacket. 
The smile never left your lips, not even when your shoulder blades rest against the side of the van as Eddie crowds you in. 
“Jesus Christ you’re fucking crazy, y’know that?” his words are mean but there’s a hint of something else on his lips, a smirk.
Your fingers move to his belt buckle, threading it through itself as you look up at him through your lashes, “you love it.” 
His eyes roll tk the back of his head, and he takes a deep breath, animalistic instinct kicking in as you suck his thumb into your mouth. 
“Fuck.”   
Your thighs are wrapped around his waist in two seconds flat. He grunts as his thick fingers glide through your wet heat, finally noticing you weren’t wearing any panties he groans guttural and low. 
His hand wraps around your throat and he smiles as you gasp for a little breath, eyes rolling into your skull as he cants his hips forward and his thick head pushes through your walls, filling you full. 
Your lips attach to his neck, licking and biting hard enough that your teeth marks will bruise a perfect dental record into his skin. A nice match for the red lips tattooed on the left of his neck, an identical mark to yours. 
“Shit,” he groans slamming into you harder and harder, shaking the van on its flat tires, broken glass hitting the ground like hail. “Always so fucking tight for me baby, fuck I love your pussy.” 
You’re mewling into him, inhaling his words as he bites your lip, licking the blood from them and running it over his teeth. 
The front door opens and shuts but neither of you stop, not even when the sobs from Chrissy get closer as her friends bell her into their car, parked right behind Eddie’s van. 
Eddie’s face is buried into your neck and you catch Chrissy’s blue teared stare, horror on her face as you and Eddie both moan. “Mm fuck,” you say to her, eyes boring into hers, “like what you see, Christopher?”
The screaming huff from her mouth is  heard around Hawkins as she slams the door to Heather's car, tires screeching as they tear out of Steve’s driveway. 
Eddie chuckles into your skin and shakes his head. A smile on his face as he kisses you hard, pumping into you harder and before long you're both coming and moaning into the night, completely lost in your own world. 
Later that night in Eddie’s bed, you're tangled naked and fresh from a shower beneath soft cotton sheets. His hands lazily work up and down your back, your arm propped up beneath your chin on his chest, “so, I did good, right?”
Eddie laughs and blows a ring of smoke into the air, “you were perfect my little vixen, I could barely contain myself when you were sitting on the hood like that, looked so fucking sexy, wanted to fuck you right there.” 
You both laugh at the theatrics of the night, and you remember something that’s missing, “gonna need my knife back by the way, feels weird without it.” 
Eddie points to his jacket crumbled on the floor next to a mountain of discarded clothing and leather boots, “it’s in my pocket, just keeping it safe.” 
You roll your eyes with a tease and slither from the sheets, bare skinned beneath the yellow warm lamp, the jacket feels cool in your hands, silk pockets gentle on your fingers as your grab your knife and pull it out. 
Examining it in your fingers it truly was the perfect gift from the man you adored, etched into the handle, a script he cut himself, “to my Lilith.” 
Tumblr media
liked this? consider a reblog like and comment! thanks for reading
another story in the same lilith au - here & here
778 notes · View notes
peachesofteal · 9 months
Note
oooh okay but what if the guys find Darling right before she’s about to give birth?? She took off after the confrontation and just never went back, and they gave her space hoping she’d come back. So then they were actively looking for her and finally found her? What’s one of the ways that could go down? Sorry I’m sure your ask box is absolutely full of asks about the baby trap au and other things but this idea struck me and I had to get it down 😩
👀 these little stories have completely consumed my brain.
🩵🩵🩵
18+ / baby trap AU / mature/dark themes
Deep breath.
Just breathe.
You can do this, you can do this. It happens all the time. You’re not the first person on earth to have a baby, for Christ’s sake.
Your feet step one in front of the other in a pattern down the hall, to the kitchen and then back to your bedroom, over and over while you try to stretch your back. It’s been almost forty minutes since your last contraction, and your muscles are sore, everything from your fingers to toes cramps.
It’s way too soon to go to the hospital.
But it’s not way too soon to be really uncomfortable, and nervous, and kind of freaking out, which you currently are.
You’re unprepared, even though you’re not sure there’s anything more you could do. You have the nursery set up, to the best of your ability. You even painted her room a soothing sage green color, and got all her clothes put away. You baby proofed everything. You have bottles, and formula, and nappies. Blankets and a boppy, even some pacifiers. On the outside, it looks like you and your little flat are totally ready.
But the reality, or at least how it feels, is the opposite. You don’t think you’re ready. You’re not even sure you can do this, if you’re being honest. You don’t know if you can be a mum, if you can take care of a baby, a defenseless little human who will need you for everything.
You struggled to take care of yourself half the time.
Your muscles tense, slow building pain splintering across your lower belly and you blink away some tears that threaten to form. It’s not just the pain… it’s everything.
You’re alone. You’re alone, after the two people you loved more than anything did the worst thing in the world to you. After they took your choice away. After they ruined everything, betrayed your trust, hurt you beyond repair.
Even worse was… you missed them. You hated them for it. Hated yourself for it. Everything felt so complicated, so fucked up. You were so angry, so heartbroken and still… couldn’t stop yourself from mourning their absence. Couldn’t stop from thinking about them at every doctor’s appt, every night when you closed your eyes to sleep.
You couldn’t even think about what was going to happen… after.
It was torture. It was hell.
It was affecting your health.
You had long been on restriction, light duty, almost mandated to bed rest. You had trouble eating, trouble sleeping, trouble with your blood sugar. It was exhausting.
Bee moves, not kicking but something else, a ripple pinging across your belly and you rub there soothingly.
“I know, I know.” You murmur, eyes wandering to your bed. Laying down sounds really good right now.
When you wake one hour later, it’s to pain. More intense, more sharp, lingering in the muscles of your back and thighs. It’s clearly a contraction, much more intense, and nausea rises in the back of your throat.
Fuck. That hurts.
You bite your tongue, heaving yourself out of bed as the pain fades, leaving you a little breathless while you waddle to the closet.
Maybe you could take a bath, or try to walk some more.
Just as you’re about to turn the tap on your tub, you hear a noise, a knocking on your door. That’s odd. You hadn’t ordered anything, food or packages. And you definitely weren’t expecting anyone either. Your stomach does a somersault, and you approach the door hesitantly, standing on the other side, staring at it blankly.
Without even checking the peep hole, you know who it is on the other side. You don’t need to look.
You always knew this would happen. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that sometimes, in the middle of the night, you didn’t dream about this. Even though it was wrong. Even if it meant you were weak. Stupid. Foolish.
You take a deep breath, and pull the handle.
Johnny’s holding his breath when the door creaks open. He doesn’t know what to expect, he just prays to nothing that it’s you on the other side. That after months of trying to track you down, they’ve finally got it right. He just hopes that you’ll give them a chance, that you’ll listen to them for even a second, so they can get down on their knees and tell you how sorry they are. So they can tell you they love you. So they can beg you to come home.
You peek around the door, just barely, enough for them to catch a good glimpse of your face.
He feels like he’s gotten the wind knocked out him. It’s been so long since they’ve seen you, too long, and you’re so pretty, so perfect he has to squeeze his hands into fists to try to calm his racing heart.
“Hi.” You keep the door more than half shut, and he swallows dry.
“Darling.”
“What’re you guys doing here.” You don’t phrase it as a question, and your voice is flat. Unenthused.
“We wanted to see you.” Simon starts. “We… wanted to check on you. See if you need anything. If you’re okay.” You give him a grim smile, and shake your head.
“Let’s not pretend.” You shoot back, and Johnny feels his heart wilt.
“We’re not pretending, love. We’ve been so worried. We’re so, so sorry. I cannae start to explain, how sorry we are. We did something awful. We-“
“I don’t want to hear it.” The door moves, just a little bit wider, and reveals more of your body, swollen belly, heavy on your frame. You look tired, like you haven’t been sleeping.
Johnny wants to break down. He wants to cry, if he’s being honest. He failed you. They failed you. They were supposed to love you, protect you, care for you. Instead… they allowed their twisted, selfish desires to influence their decisions.
He can’t imagine how this has been for you. Pregnancies were difficult for anyone as is, and you weren’t just anyone. You never have been.
“Can we come in?” Simon tries, voice soft. His eyes haven’t left your frame, taking in everything he’s seeing, Johnny’s sure. Coming to the same conclusion.
“No.” You bite out. “I don’t want you here.” He’s about to start begging, start pleading with you, but you make a face, brows pushing together, mouth screwing up like you’re in pain and his blood runs cold.
“Darling?”
“It’s nothing.” You breathe, but your hand cradles your belly, and your eyes are closed, face still screwed up in discomfort. “You should leave.” Not bloody likely.
“You’re in pain.” Simon summarizes the obvious, and you shake your head.
“I’m fine. I just uh- am having some cramps.” Cramps? He knows you’re pretty far along, by the math. Worry prickles along his spine.
“Cramps?” He takes half a step, not even. It’s enough to startle you, make you draw back, door jerking in your fist, closing it to only a crack, and he holds a hand out, cautiously. “Darling. Hey, it’s alright.”
“Go away.” You spit, but the words are choked out halfway, and they sound rough. Like you’re in pain. He tries to count, in his head. How far along you are, how close to a due date you might be.
“What’s going on?” Simon tries, and they can just barely see your palm press over your mouth. Johnny’s heart is galloping in his chest now, scared. Panicked. You’re in pain. You’re in real pain, and you won’t talk to them. Won’t let them in.
He’s about to ask you if it’s more than cramps, if you need help, or a doctor. But he doesn’t get the chance.
The door slams in their faces.
669 notes · View notes
Text
Something I’ve seen a few people wondering about is whether or not April kept her Hamato Ninpo after Karai left her to join the other Hamato ancestors & I think that April still has her Hamato Ninpo primarily because April still had her Hamato Nipo outfit at the end of the fight with Shredder 
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
When a member of the Hamato Clan fully unlocks their Ninpo they gain a new outfit such as Splinter gaining a white robe or the Turtle’s masks all becoming longer, & when April unlocked her Ninpo she also got a new outfit & hairstyle which she kept even after Karai left her.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The fact that April is still wearing her Hamato Ninpo outfit even after Karai leaves her is proof that April’s Ninpo is her own & comes from that fact that April is a member of the Hamato Clan in her own right with or without Karai possessing her.
1K notes · View notes
honeypipin · 5 months
Text
The Banker made König Jealous?
Mafia!König who felt terribly sour after seeing the posts you made on instagram at the gala.
The way you looked in your outfit, and the bright smile on your face... yeah, ok so he might have jerked off to the pictures countless times, it was very good material for his imagination, in his defense... but he was so upset he wasn't there with you!
No matter what au he's in, König is our favourite pathetic man, he might try to hide it, but stalking all of your crush's social medias, finding out where they live and constanly fighting over control of the area (and obviously you) will always make him a simp. He just can't help it when it comes to you.
And now he sits in his office, waiting for your arrival, picking at the old scab on his forearm with nothing else to do.
Now he does, you're here!
"Ah, Hallo." He sits up straight, posture no longer henched over his desk, and gestures to the free seat infront of his.
"Hello König, how are you today?"
"Good. How are you?"
"Im ok, thank you. So as we talked last time..."
Now he means no disrespect, but he zones out immediately, so entranced with you, how confidentally you speak about financials, the little smirk that plays on the corner of your mouth when you tell him about an investment plan you are sure is full proof - you're so proud of your abilities, and it doesn't help König's heart with how pretty you are. He could spend hours listening to your sweet voice (and is very desperate to).
A good 10 minutes pass of you explaining your brilliant ideas and König always agreeing to it, since he would let you burn him to the ground if you really wanted. You could tell him that you wanted to feed all of his money to a donkey and he would, just to see a smile on your face. A romantic at heart.
"So? What do you think?"
"Perfekt."
"Really?"
"Always." Always, everything you do is perfect, even in it's imperfect ways, it's always perfect. He is a man who lives to serve, and who else to serve but you? He could wait on you, hand on knee for his life for what matters. Have you ever seen something so awe-inspiring and amazing you physically freeze, jaw-dropped just to take it in? You just stop and this completely new feeling overcomes you, no fear, not even happiness, you're just taking it in.
That's how König felt about you. Well, the first time, but now, he's trying to get himself closer to this absolute paradox. How could you just...be? Like somekind of idol he can't get into the space of, that was exactly it. Like light, he can only watch, watch it dance and play with its beautiful colour, watch it trick him and reveal to him, but can never touch, only feel the ghost of its warmth.
Does he have to let you burn him?
Will he have to feel your love scald his spine? Drip down his body with bloody blisters in its leave? Feel his skin splinter away and his bones into ash under your adoration? Let his wax wings melt into the sea and drown himself in your heat for your heart? He'll do it. He's a man of his word, perhaps not a wise one, but devoted for sure.
"Great. How about we meet up tomorrow to discuss further, your office?"
"Sure."
You weren't going to burn him, not yet. For now, you were going to sear him a little, take a few bites out of his heart, then fucking disintergrate him. And the weirdo would let you do it everytime.
232 notes · View notes
amascomet · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
Fullbody draft of Gene Spliced AU Splinter. Wanna work on his colors and uniform a little more but I still like him! Timeline for the AU isn’t finalized just yet but here’s what I wrote about him -
Splinter was going to be a gift for April from Stockman. He'd often take young April with him when he'd go to pet stores to collect possible test subjects. She probably would visit his cage everytime they went and Baxter noticed. Bad luck that the day he does get Splinter for her is when his wife decides to leave and take April. So now he's stuck with him. Tests are yielding nothing so out of desperation and just kind of goes "may as well! what's the worst that could happen", he tests the mutagen on Splinter and is gagged when it actually works.
He was most likely like a young adult in rat years when he was mutated. The mutagen boosts biological aging quite like how they speed up the aging process for chickens in some meat farms however the mutagen he was affected by was from an older formula. He aged but not as fast as the turtles had when they were first created. Seeing them grow and develop so much faster messes with him. Just more proof for him that soon he'll be considered obsolete.
Splinter probably has strong loyalty to The Shredder cause he's convinced himself that he's valued and more than just another soldier. He probably has romantized (I don't know another word for this thrhfhhdu, but Shredder ain't your family Splinter) memories but his actual experience growing and training under him and his goons was indeed pretty horrible. He feels threatened by the existence of the turtles. After all he was just the prototype.
The turtles care for him and aren't very aware that their affection isn't reciprocated back (atleast not yet). They probably poke, prod, and climb all over him when they're not training or getting vitals. He has to constantly hear them complain about the food. Mikey teases the notion that Splinter himself makes everything and just sucks at cooking. Overall, we’ve got a slowburn father figure Splinter here.
329 notes · View notes