#cat inflicted violence

[abyssalaerlocke]

My cat just got me so bad, I won't be surprised if the cops get called over my scream 😐 tried to get my mom to draw him away from my door, she literally could have triggered his food from her phone, but naw. Even when I was clear he was in pounce mode

Ended up absolutely tearing into both my legs with claws and teeth on my way to the bathroom and really held on 😓

[theromaboo]

One thing about me is that I once bought clay from the dollar store and decided to make a little Julius Caesar head, but then it cracked so I just abandoned it and it has been sitting forgotten in my room for quite a bit.

That's little JC, colorized.

[istrela]

genuinely hate people who dislike cats 

[brummiereader]

Binding Love (Part One/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: After a morning of negotiations between lawyers, the day goes wasted when Tommy takes it upon himself to interfere in court proceedings. With your muddled intentions made clear, and your husband's declarations of love forcefully made known, a blazing row erupts between you both in the bustling streets of Birmingham. Will you ever be free from your husband's restraints? Do you even want to be?

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst.

Word Count: 5K

Authors Note: For the purpose of depicting the manipulative behaviour of Tommy in the first part of this chapter, I've taken it upon myself to have radios become a common feature in cars before they were. We'll pick back up from the first scene again in the last chapter. The song playing on the car radio is called "Release Me" by Engelbert Humperdinck.

[Masterlist] [Trailer] [Main Masterlist]

" Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you, anymore..." the sound of your husband's humming voice accompanied by the taunting song and a sharp turn of the cars rumbling wheels on the gritted ground, jolted you from the daze your tired body had drifted into.

"Tommy...Tommy!" you began to frantically cry into the darkness, faced once again with the horrors sleep had dulled for you. A slither of light beaming through a crack in the rear headlights, the salty air of sand and kelp your only comfort to stop your racing heart from plunging you into complete obscurity.

"Tommy please! I'm...I'm sorry! I was scared...you were scaring me!" Your stifled breath wept with desperation as you begged for mercy before panic took over, and you succumbed to the tight enclosure.

Losing track of the countless halting stops, the speeding turns as Tommy's foot pressed down onto the pedal with determination. You had given up on trying to route your husband's destination and fallen into a weary haze of slumber. But with Tommy's clear attempt to awaken you, and bless his lonely thoughts with the beauty of your strangled cries, he had also awoken the searing panic within you once again.

How many hours had it been...fuck, how many hours had it been?! How much air was left?!, your frightened mind scrambled to make sense of the amount of time that had passed through the music loudly confusing any tangible answer you could come to.

" I can't breathe...Oh my god, I...I can't breathe!" your chest heaved in a frenzy, relenting to the alarming situation you had distanced yourself from as your hands searched to ground your body before you let what was left of your sanity slip into the terror your husband was hellbent on inflicting on you.

" Tommy! I...I can't breathe!" your hand flew to your chest as adrenaline coursed through the blood pumping furiously throughout your body. Every muscle reacting in a torturous plea for you to flee the inescapable.

" Maybe you should stop screaming, sweetheart" Tommy's voice rose above the music as a wicked smirk etched on the corner of his curling lips. His arm resting casually on the open window with a lit cigarette perched between his fingers as one would on a leisurely Sunday drive in the country.

" You bastard!" you snapped forgetting yourself, throwing the warranted insult his way as a low chuckle obnoxiously echoed back to you in response.

" And to think I put a cushion in there for you" he teased, if only to spur on the enticing game of cat and mouse he had become the sole player of.

" Don't say I don't do anything nice for you, eh?" a slither of irritation seethed at the end of his tongue for the chaos he blamed you for. For the cascade of selfish decisions you had made he blamed on the day's events.

How could you have done this to him, after all...no. After everything he'd lovingly done for you to keep you away from those that wanted to ruin what you shared.

" I hate you...I fucking hate you! I never loved you Tommy, just like your fucking song! I don't love you! Are you listening?! " your screams continued as you thrashed your limbs against the walls. Desperately trying to garner a reaction out of him as your lungs heaved for the stolen air, panic had snatched from them.

And a reaction you got, but one you'd be thankful to not have witnessed when Tommy shifted in his seat, loosening the collar of his shirt from the restricting pang of anger bobbing in his throat. His jaw clenching into a grating sound of teeth grinding on top of one another as the blue of his eyes eclipsed with a foreboding shade of coal at the lies you had spoken to scorch him. Lies he knew were only said to fool yourself into believing, rather than succumbing to the truth that your doting husband was, and always would be, the only man you would ever love.

You were just...tired. A knock to the head would make anyone confused, Tommy told the distasteful burn that had settled on his chest as the calloused pads of his fingers turned the volume up to drown out any more unwarranted admissions that would have him act out on the sting you had pierced him with.

"I'm warning you, eh? You hear me? One more fucking word Y/N, I dare you!" Tommy's voice loudly ordered with a shuddering tone of control as his eyes narrowed in on the road in front of him. His leather gloves snapping with a crisp creak under his curling fingers as they tightly grasped around the steering wheel. Tethering on the idea of stopping the car to an abrupt halt and dealing with you by hand.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, your trembling bottom lip steadied itself from any further statements you'd be a fool to make as the toying melody lulled your weeping body back into hopelessness. Your eyes drifting to the narrow rays of the sun fading with each passing minute.

Hovering your fingers over the dusting of light, you began to quietly mouth the tormenting lyrics of the song Tommy had chosen to accompany your long drive into the unknown as you let your body sink into itself.

Feeling a strangled cry build in your throat, one last frustrated thrash of your elbow against the side of the car boot had a flash of light searing into the darkness, causing your head to turn from the glaring brightness of the outside world now beaming into your enclosure.

" Shit, shit..." your head turned in a panic to see the back headlight gone, your pent-up hopelessness now your saviour.

Whipping your head back to the sound of your husband's toying lips whistling in tune to the song, your heart pounded rapidly against your chest as you waited for him to acknowledge his taillight skimming across the road. But when no reaction came, you tempted fate and slipped your arm through the open gap, frantically waving your hand in hopes somebody would see.

Hearing the rumbling sound of a car approaching, you pushed your arm further through the shards of glass as you desperately tried to alert its drivers' attention.

" No, no, no..." you cried, pulling away to see the car disappear into the fading sun, hurtling all despair back to you in a strangled muffle of cries.

Readying yourself for the burning sting once again, you pushed your bloody hand back into the sharp teeth of your only escape, forcing it through until your shoulder met the door of your prison one last time.

And that's when you felt it. The lock that had kept you captive for countless hours in the dark.

In for a penny, in for a..., your teeth bit down onto your wobbling bottom lip, dried with a layer of blood from the dripping gash on your forehead.

Steadying your heavy breaths from backing out, you pushed your thumb down onto the chrome button, committing to your escape and the horrors you would face if your husband caught you.

With a subtle click, the door effortlessly popped open as you pulled yourself up with shaky hands, throwing the weight of your body out onto the road without care to any car approaching or injury you'd likely sustain as Tommy's foot slammed on the breaks to a screeching halt.

" Now just where do you think you're going..." Tommy's eyes narrowed, the rolled cylinder of tobacco resting between his plump lips puffing a cloud of smoke with each quiet breathy observation as he flicked the wing mirror with his finger to see the reflection of you scrambling to your feet.

" Help! Somebody!" You screamed in horror as you ran barefoot along the gritted ground. Only a thin slip covering your modesty, Tommy hadn't given you a chance to conceal with his unexpected appearance that morning.

"Shit" Tommy huffed throwing the door open, discarding the burnt cigarette from his mouth as he bolted after your sprinting feet.

" C'mon darling, don't make a scene!" you heard his gravelly voice call after you as you dared to look back to see him chasing towards you with a malicious smile of amusement toying on the corners of his lips.

With no sign of life but the two of you on the long winding road, you took your chances in the bushy hedgerow, heading down the dangerous coastal path with screams of terror as Tommy stayed hot on your heels behind you.

But your frantic escape and pleas for help would go unheard among the thrashing sound of waves, leaving only the echos of the melody coming from Tommy's abandoned car in the middle of the lone country road, and the ticking of its blinkers counting the moments down until he caught you.

"Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you anymore. To waste our lives would be a sin..."

One month earlier...

"Shit, I'm sorry. I don't..I don't have any change" your cheeks reddened with embarrassment as your fingers fumbled with the small, empty purse. Not a single shilling nestled within its velvety padding. Not a single penny to your name.

"My husband wi..." you stopped yourself, feeling a fool to have even referred to him as such, that you were going to rely on him to settle your fare, knowing full well he'd find enjoyment paying on your behalf with the proceedings set to take place in a moment's time.

" S'alright, Mrs Shelby. On the house" the taxi driver nodded to you in the rear mirror with a bushy bearded smile. For he was not foolish enough to follow in suit with your slipping tongue and make the wife of the leader of the Peaky Blinders pay a sum so trivial it could see him costing a finger his profession deemed vital.

" Thank you, Jeffery. But after today I'll no longer be, Mrs Shelby" you stated, opening the car door to a gust of autumn air nipping at your cheeks, your heels stepping onto the cobbled street, that paved your way to the grand building where a judge would decide on your future.

Strutting into the towering structure, you held your head high as your heels loudly echoed along the marble floors. But as you pushed through the heavy court doors, your mustered confidence took a sudden blow when the room turned to face you and the man that would reside over your divorce proceedings, scolded you like a child in front of a class of their peers.

" You're late, Mrs Shelby" he looked past the rims of his glasses as your pace slowed in a desperate attempt to muffle your poor choice of shoes and the unwarranted attention it garnered.

"I'm sorry your honor" you apologised, shamed in front of everyone as you hurried past the set of blue eyes following your every step. His piercing stare roaming over your body from head to toe, to every curve your fitted dress accentuated. His head leaning into your musky perfume filled with notes of amber and vanilla that drifted past him in a gentle greeting as you took your seat next to your solicitor. The intoxicating smell enough to cause a breathy exhale of repressed want from his throat. Tommy.

Feeling the intent stare of your husband boring into your heated cheek, you whipped your head up from the documents between your painted nails to see Tommy leant back in his chair, admiring your choice of outfit from between the men of law that separated you. Why did he have to look at you that way? He was doing it on fucking purpose.

Snapping your eyes away, a screeching sound of a chair scraped along the floor, followed by the heavy footsteps of your husband approaching.

" Darling" he greeted, taking the opportunity to approach you and the tray of refreshments stood feet from your desk as the fumbling Judge lay out your weighty file in front of him with the help of his assistant.

"Tommy" you replied, eyes fixed on the documents in front of you, trying your upmost to shield yourself from the pull of his daily dose of sweet-talking.

Scoffing a chuckle, Tommy raised the glass tumbler of water to his grinning lips. Amused by the cold shoulder you were adamant on giving him.

"Quite the entrance. Was that little show all for me..." You suddenly felt the heat of his body next to you, his distinct cologne of tobacco intertwined with whiskey and soot filling your senses. "...eh?" he perched himself on the edge of your desk as he leant into your ear, his fiery breath sending a ripple of goosebumps down your neck as the beginnings of a cocky smile curled against your skin.

" No" you firmly stated, feeling the remaining surges of embarrassment making laps in your stomach as you raised your eyes to see the smug smirk of enjoyment plastered across his face. Did you do it for him? Were you still seeking his attention, his approval after all this time, after everything that had happened?

" You sure, sweetheart?" his brows knitted together, mischief twinkling in the corners of his creased eyes as his hand reached under the table, roaming under your dress until his fingers met the clasps of your garter and unclipped one.

"Hmm, such a tease" he chuckled to himself, feeling the sting of your hand slapping his fingers away. Toying with your emotions and the agreed boundaries he was unwilling to follow once again.

Whether it be to purposely play with you or sheer refusal to admit he was the one that had pushed you to this point. Tommy didn't care. For your husband would never abide by anyone, let alone follow life's rules that weren't from the beat of his own drum.

" Be seated everyone" the Judge ordered, bringing your racing heart down to a manageable speed as Tommy scooted off the wooden table onto two feet, adjusting his suit before reluctantly playing along to the six-month temper tantrum he believed you was having.

As the dreary morning of papers being sent back and forth between lawyers, of decisions over the custody of your shared child continued. Tommy made it his sole mission to find an issue with every suggestion raised. Addressing only you throughout the entire ordeal as his generously paid lawyer, buried his head in his hands with frustration.

" Mr Shelby" the Judge's voice rose above Tommy's interruptions as he wiped the bead of sweat that had settled on his temple. A huff of defeat in response to the insult that he, a man of his position, couldn't keep his courtroom and its sole troublemaker under control.

" Two Sundays out of the month, Y/N? I won't allow it, understood? Sunday is family time and we'll spend it together, whether you like it or not" Tommy rolled his shoulders, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket as the Judge desperately tried to bring order to the room.

"Why don't we go back home and end this fucking circus, eh? I'll make love to you, we'll take Elsie out for an afternoon with the horses..." Tommy trailed off into a tangent of things he'd rather be doing than sitting in the stuffy room he was currently forced to be in with a wigged man telling him what he could and couldn't do with his family.

"Mr Shelby, I beseech you" the Judge removed his glasses, peering at your husband's lawyer to keep control of his client.

" You really want to do this, eh? To our daughter? Y/N? Y/N?!" the last of Tommy's patience quickly evaporated as you snapped your head away from his bellowing voice to the window beside you, tears spilling over your cheeks.

" Mr Shelby!" The magistrate slammed his hammer down onto its wooden pillow as an exasperated sigh at the tiresome morning loudly left his throat.

Ignoring the resonating boom of the wooden hammer, Tommy rested his arm on the back of his lawyer's chair as he leaned in. Whispering his orders into his ear as his scorching stare stayed fixed on you.

Daring to challenge the piercing pair of eyes burning into you, you raised your head as your husband's lawyer approached the bench with his orders.

Gaze drifting up from his clenched fists, you were met with nothing but anger. Anger at your refusal to bring an end to the whole charade, for your unwillingness to let him back into your martial bed over a paddy he believed would fizzle out within a week's time. How had things gotten to this point? Or more precisely, what had your dear husband done to push you to this point?

" Proceedings are postponed until further notice" the Judge's damning words shocked you out of your husband's hold on your every thought as your eyes darted to your lawyer.

" All rise" the portly guard beside him announced as those present dispersed from the room, leaving you with darting eyes scanning the empty rows of chairs until they settled on Tommy, and the satisfied smirk he was maliciously sending your way.

"What did you do? Tommy! What did you do?!" you shouted, storming over to him as he rose from his seat. Unbothered by your fit of rage and the role he played in its sudden appearance.

"You're so angry all the time, darling" he replied, dismissing your questions as his hands snaked over your waist, playfully pouting down at your widening eyes as if the entire ordeal was nothing but a small spat between a married couple.

"You might wanna get that checked love, can't be good for you, now can it?" He continued to rile you up after getting his way as you pushed him off you, feeling fooled by your lawyers guarantee that not even your husband could bring a halt to court proceedings after the lengthy battle you had already fought to get this point.

Tears settling between your lashes, you shook your head in disbelief at another delay to your freedom as you ran from the courtroom and your husband calling your name.

" Y/N!" Tommy's voice bellowed into the chilly blue sky as he followed after your hurried steps down to the bustling main road of Birmingham's town center.

"Hey!" He grabbed hold of your hips, spinning you around to face him and the tears streaming down your reddened cheeks.

"Hey..." he hushed your cries as you clutched your arms around your body from the bitter breeze of winter slowly rolling in.

"Here" he pulled his black overcoat from his shoulders, wrapping it around your trembling body, you shrugged off the moment it's warmth enveloped you.

No matter what he did, you wouldn't let him in. Why wouldn't you fucking let him back in?!, Tommy thought to himself, throwing his coat on the hood of his car. Oblivious or rather, ignorant to how he had toyed with you moments earlier.

" Why are you doing this, Tommy? We agreed to this. You agreed to this!" a sigh of defeat had your head turning in frustration to the cobbled ground below you. A stream of tears following in tow.

"Forced my hand more like" his huffy response snapped back as he fished in his suit jacket for a cigarette.

Eyes cast down, Tommy's stare darted between your tear-ridden cheeks and the morning dash of men and women hurrying to their places of work as you both stood in silence.

"Hey, look at me" he cupped your chin, turning your head to face him as he shuffled from foot to foot with a breathy exhale. "We'll deal with this in private, alright?" his brows raised, only to be welcomed with your rolling eyes of skepticism on what the word private actually meant to your husband whose idea of a fair deal was only if he was the one making all the deciding factors.

"Y/N?" he waited on your answer, softly brushing a lock of hair from your cheek when his eyes caught the sight of a police car sat guzzling gas on the opposite side of the road, and the prick inside he'd learnt had been hounding you for months on the whereabouts of his colleague.

Jaw tightening, Tommy watched as the detective gave a two-finger salute before turning the wheels of his car into the road and driving off with a pleased smirk. A clear provocation to rile up the notorious gangster on a day he knew Tommy's reputable temper could see him snap given the right push, in the right direction.

" Y/N?" his attention flew back to you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. " I don't want this" he held your gaze as the end of his cigarette sizzled inches from your cold cheeks.

" I love you" his stare intensified as he wet his lips, his hands reinforcing his words with a stern shake to your face. " I can't lose you. If you want me to change...fuck, I'll change, alright?"

" For god's sake Tommy, that's not...not what I want from you" You felt a surge of disappointment plummet to the bottom of your stomach at the empty promises you had heard countless times before. Hoping that for once, just once, he'd say something that could reassure you enough to put a stop to the yearning you had to reconcile without a shit load of regret following shortly after it.

"I was just keeping you safe, darling" his hands dropped to your arms, tenderly rubbing them within his palms.

" Is that what you want me to do? Pull back my men? Is that what this is all about, eh?" He continued with his refusal to acknowledge the lengths he'd gone to keep control over every waking moment of your day.

" You've given up on us, haven't you?" Tommy huffed at your silence and the reaction it had on his grating need to have your undivided attention at all times.

"Just know this is all on you, eh? Our daughters' parent's separated because of you. Great fucking example you're showing her, darling. Well done" Tommy shook his head, viscously switching his mood back to his bitter brooding over your lack of response, and the expected answer you were unwilling to give.

Your silence being enough to make clear where you stood on the matter, you turned to leave as his hurtful words settled in your chest. Burrowing down to your heart, to the pang of guilt you felt for the stress you was putting your six-year-old daughter through.

"Where are you going?" He stopped you from taking another step as he grabbed hold of your arm.

" Into town" you attempted to shrug off his grip as you watched the barrage of questions form behind his eyes.

" You need some money?" He slipped his burning cigarette between his lips as he pulled out a bundle of cash, flicking through the notes.

" No" you huffed, folding your arms away from him as a wave of embarrassment that you didn't have the money for a taxi fare, let alone a trip into town without your husband giving you your weekly pocket money, scorched you with humiliation.

" Why not?" Tommy's brow furrowed as he threw his cigarette to the ground. " Y/N, why not?" His question turned into an urgent demand to know what had you needing to walk into the city for something he could get one of his men to fetch for you.

Fuck sake, you sighed to yourself, feeling the familiar tone of interrogation seeping though his questions. You just wanted space, space away from the house you still found yourself sharing with him, from the constant reminder of happy memories spent together, from him, from him and his fucking need to know your whereabouts every hour of every second of the day.

"You have someone else paying for this outing into town, is that why you don't need my money, eh? Tommy's paranoia started to turn it's ugly head into an onslaught of never-ending questions.

"Going on another fucking date, hm? Like you did with that pig" his grip tightened, releasing his pent-up anger out on your reddening arms as he glared at you with eyes burning with enough fury to heat your face.

" It's was a friendly dinner..." You sighed with frustration at his inability to stop himself before he pushed you further away with words intended to hurt.

" You meeting someone, Y/N? You fucking somebody, eh?" His voice rose, letting go of the little self-restraint he still possessed as he abruptly pulled you into his body.

" Why you doing this to me, hm?" His voice suddenly softened into desperate pleas anyone would think was an end to his anger. But his tight hold on your body as his cheek pressed against yours, the sound of his gritted teeth grinding together against your ear, enough to tell you otherwise that his fury was seconds away from bubbling over.

" Tommy stop...enough!" You managed to push him away as you turned to leave, refusing to withstand another second of the man that had replaced your once doting husband.

" You won't get rid of me that easily, darling! I won't let it happen!" His voice bellowed into the soot filled air, garnering the attention of those within ear shot. "You marry a Shelby, you stay married! You hear me?! You stay, fucking married!"

" Fuck!" His hands slammed against the door of his car as his lawyer nervously approached, announcing his presence with the clearing of his throat.

" What?!" Tommy's head snapped back to the fumbling man with a file of papers requiring his attention.

" See that those get lost" Tommy's demeanor quickly simmered, keeping the only document that held any interest before piling the rest into the arms of his lawyer.

Sinking into the driver's seat, his true intentions, written in the words of his solicitor, found their way into the glove box as one of his men slid into the passenger's side.

" What's the plan boss?'" the peaked soldier questioned, his voice drowning out into a distant muffle of unintelligible words as Tommy's eyes followed you walking along the cobbled path. His fingers hovering over the ignition, ready to leave when you turned back to look at him with locks of hair dancing in front of your eyes, cheeks rosy red from the chill that had settled over the foggy city. The sight twisting an unbearable urge within him to have you walk back to him, to have you back in his arms.

Were you coming back to him?, Tommy waited, a breath of anticipation catching in his throat as you stood from afar before the ends of your dress turned with a gust of wind, pushing you around the corner out of sight.

" Boss?" The peaky asked, waiting for his orders as his hand rested on the handle of the door.

" Follow her"

" Fuck..." you stifled the steady flow of tears trickling down your cheeks as you darted into a narrow bricked path behind a row of shops. A face as famous as yours was, and would always be a topic of conversation, even more so with a set of tears covering it.

How had it come to this? Was it after the birth of your daughter? No, no, before then? When you was dating?", you plagued yourself with the same frequency of questions your husband tired you with.

No matter how many questions your weary thoughts tormented you with, the truth was, you couldn't pinpoint when your marriage fell apart. It had happened slowly, small changes gone unnoticed. And then, in true Tommy fashion, accelerated to a point where the ignored had become glaringly obvious.

Yet still, wrenching pangs of yearning had you feeling like you couldn't live without him as long sleepless nights dragged on. The heat of his body absent from under the sheets of your martial bed. He was all you had ever known. And he knew it. He knew it.

"You'll pay privy to his crimes when I finally get him, Mrs Shelby. You and your daughter" a voice snatched you from the beckoning memories of your husband's arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

" Leave me alone" your eyes snapped up as you blinked your tears away, pulling yourself from the detective that had tracked you down for a second time that week.

" You're making a mistake" he caught your arm, forcing you to face his insistent inquiries into your husband.

"For the last time, I don't know anything. Now let me go" you echoed the countless responses you had already given.

One dinner had landed you not only at the brunt end of Tommy's raging anger, that you had dared to entertain someone of the opposite sex that was neither blood nor bound to you by marriage, but the watchful eye of your date's colleague, adamant on finding what he believed would be his partner's dead body, murdered at the hands of your husband after a fit of jealousy.

" I can offer you protection, away from him. All you have to do..." He slipped his details into your hand before you abruptly put an end to his concerns for your safety.

" I said, leave me alone" you pulled his hand off you, tired of being man-handled, of being expected to appease every living fucking creature of the opposite sex.

"You'll be next, Mrs Shelby. Mark my words!" He shouted to you as you drifted back into the bustling streets, his words leaving a harrowing sense of dread tightening around your throat as you shoved his card within the warmth of your pocket.

" Tommy doesn't share his toys!" The last of his warnings rang back to you as you leaned against a lonely lamp post, steadying the weight of your body against its metal frame when the world you were trying to flee from appeared in the corner of your eyes in the form of a peaked cap soldier watching from afar.

In sickness and in health, until death do us part. Would you ever be free from the binding love that had chained you together? Or would fate echo the words of your shared vows spoken on your wedding day?

Next Part

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219

[nevadancitizen]

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

synopsis: The Soviet Union has been producing robots for a long time based on a miracle compound: polymer. But that was invented in 1941. The current year is 2038, and, due to rising tensions in the Arctic, Americans aren't as kind to Soviets as they once were. It's too bad you're a russki, and it's really too bad that you work in cybersecurity. And honestly, with the case Fowler has put you on, you're at risk of losing your job. It doesn't help that you're stuck with Lieutenant Hank Anderson and some new android apparently called Connor.

A Detroit: Become Human AU with elements from Atomic Heart (2023), in which the international political climate is a bit different and more prominent within the story. The Soviet Union still exists, and she's threatening America by proxy of her invasion of the Arctic.

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

tags: Robot/Human Relationships, Action/Adventure, Action & Romance, Slow Burn, Fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, Gender-neutral Reader, Mutual Pining, Minor Character Death

small note: this fic has russian in it (i mean, obviously). i'll be posting the translations in the comments of the fics, so if you're confused, be sure to check them :)

note, continued: also, the reader in this fic is gender neutral. please do not refer to them with feminine or masculine pronouns. instead, please address them by they/them pronouns. this fic is all-inclusive and not meant to alienate anyone -- it's meant to be written so that everyone can read, no matter their personal pronouns!

CH. 1: A Silent Dog & Still Waters

CH. 2: Like a Mouse in a House Full of Cats

CH. 3: Android Autopsy (Or is it Necropsy?)

CH. 4: Without Torture, There is no Camaraderie

CH. 5: Live For a Century, Learn For a Century

CH. 6: Some Sort of Sick, Self-Inflicted Schadenfreude

CH. 7: Does Every Rabid Dog Get its Tail Docked up to the Ears?

CH. 8: Mind Palaces & Other Shattered Crystalline Dreams

CH. 9: If You Chop From the Shoulder, the Ax Will Find Your Hip

CH. 10: Either Fickle or a Friend (Or a Really Fucking Fickle Friend)

CH. 11: Only Philosophy From the Poor Rings True

CH. 12: Friends & Tobacco are Separate Things (& so are Revolutions)

CH. 13: The Joys of Soviet Technologies (or, Good, Honest Snake Oil – if There is Such a Thing!) (or, Let's Talk Homecoming (the Military Operation, not Prom)) (or, The Smallest Church in Saint-Saëns) (or, Wake up & Smell the Ashes)

CH. 14: No Misfortune is Without Blessing

CH. 15: These are the Moments

EPILOGUE: <currently being written...>

[bloodborne-on-pc]

I've been trying to think of the best way to articulate this for a long time, but I think something that maybe influences many outdoor cat owners to be adamantly against the idea of the idea of their pet being an invasive species, is the way we talk and think about invasive species.

If you see any post on social media talking about an invasive species, people in the comments tend to talk about "destroying" them with a sort of gleeful malice. Essentially, invasives are acceptable targets for cruelty. They are considered "evil", making it okay to hate them and inflict violence upon them, and to revel in that violence.

So, if a person has this viewpoint, consciously or not, and sees someone claim their beloved pet is invasive, they will probably balk at the idea and reject it. Their cat isn't evil! That's absurd! How could you say that?

And that is completely true. The domestic cat isn't evil. Neither is the spotted lanternfly, common buckthorn, or any other invasive species. They are harmful to the environments they are introduced into, but they don't cause that harm because they are malevolent. They're doing the exact same things they would be in their original environment. Those things are just bad for their non-native one. In some situations, removing invasive species may involve killing the organism, but we shouldn't relish in the suffering this will cause them.

Obviously, there are lot of factors influencing why people refuse to keep their cats inside. But I can't help but wonder if this kind of attitude might exacerbate it - and if changing the way we talk about invasive species might help a little. Even if not, we should do it anyway - all living things deserve respect.

[theoutcastrogue]

Cartoon depictions of the homeless increasingly reflect the hostility of today’s political leaders toward people on the streets. We’ve gone from images of charming hobos with bindles to zombies taking over cities. If you consume any news at all, you’ve probably noticed that the United States is pathologically cruel to its homeless citizens. This May, the brutal killing of Jordan Neely—who was strangled to death, at the age of 30, simply because he was unhoused and shouting on the Manhattan subway—captured the national spotlight, but it was just one of many such cases of unprovoked violence. In January, two cops reportedly kidnapped a homeless man in Hialeah, Florida, drove him to an “isolated and dark location,” and beat him unconscious. That same month, art dealer Shannon Collier Gwin faced battery charges after he sprayed a homeless woman with a hose outside his San Francisco gallery, barking “Move! Move!” at her. (Predictably, Gwin got a lenient plea deal of just 35 hours of community service.) Elsewhere in the city, homeless San Franciscans have been attacked with chemical bear spray on at least eight occasions. Other assaults have been more impersonal but no less vicious. On July 14, the city of Houston abruptly closed its only public cooling center in the downtown area, potentially condemning anyone without shelter to suffer heatstroke in 90-degree weather. Among the property-owning class, the phenomenon of hostile architecture—sidewalks with spikes that stab anyone who tries to sleep, benches with iron bars, and the like—has become de rigueur. The widespread callousness and lack of compassion are both infuriating and hard to comprehend. How on Earth, we might ask, did things get this bad? [...]

Looking back at older cartoons, one of the things that stands out immediately is the absence of negative attitudes toward the homeless. In fact, during the Golden Age of animation, creators seemed to have had a real affinity for the poor and unhoused, often placing their most iconic characters in that role. There’s a wonderful 1948 Warner Bros. short called “Riff Raffy Daffy,” in which Daffy Duck is looking for a place to sleep—first on a park bench, then a trash can, and finally a furniture display in a shop window—and has to dodge the harassment of the police, as represented by Porky Pig in a little blue uniform. (Literally, the cop is a pig!) Or, in the 1950 cartoon “Homeless Hare,” Bugs Bunny’s rabbit hole is destroyed by a new construction project, leading him to unleash his usual slapstick mayhem against the developers until they put it back. In these cartoons, homelessness is something inflicted on people by outside forces—gentrification and the real estate business, in Bugs’ case—and something which can be successfully resisted. Even Disney cast a homeless dog as a romantic lead in 1955’s Lady and the Tramp, contrasting Lady’s sheltered naivety with Tramp’s superior knowledge of the world. The title invokes the memory of Charlie Chaplin’s “Tramp” films, which similarly brought dignity and humanity to the role of a homeless man. (Bugs Bunny, too, takes inspiration from Chaplin, and multiple Warner animators have drawn him as the Tramp.) In 1961, Hanna-Barbera’s profoundly underrated Top Cat followed the adventures of a gang of wisecracking Manhattan alley cats, who, like Daffy, are always outwitting a meddling policeman. At worst, classic cartoons may trivialize the suffering and danger associated with homelessness—there’s a certain recurring image of the carefree hobo carrying a bindle, which paints the whole subject in a romanticized light—but the homeless themselves are rarely disparaged or made the butt of the joke. Quite the opposite. 

It took a few years, but cartoons caught up to the Reaganite turn. In episodes from the ’90s and early 2000s, there’s a palpable shift in the way homeless characters appear compared to earlier decades. The perspective is different: we’re now seeing them through the eyes of comfortably housed characters, rather than their own. Often they don’t even get proper names. [...] This trajectory leads us, perhaps inevitably, to SpongeBob SquarePants. [..] Squidward gets accused of stealing a dime by his comically greedy boss, Mr. Krabs, and quits his job in a fit of outrage. We then flash forward to see Squidward, now bedraggled and unshaven, living in a cardboard box on the street and begging for change. [...] Mercifully, the ever-cheerful SpongeBob gives Squidward a place to stay—but the moment he’s safely off the street, Squidward turns from a sympathetic victim of circumstance into a lazy, entitled freeloader, straight out of a Reagan speech. He makes no effort to find work and loafs around SpongeBob’s house for ages. [...] Eventually, an exasperated SpongeBob writes “GET A JOB” in his alphabet soup, before shoving him (bed and all) back to work at the Krusty Krab. [...] Worst of all, though, the episode suggests that homelessness can be solved on an individual basis if the people in question simply stop being lazy and “GET A JOB.” This is the biggest myth of all. In 2021, a statistical analysis by the University of Chicago found that 53 percent of people in homeless shelters, and 40.4 percent of unsheltered people, do have jobs. The problem is that their wages are too low, and rents are too high. According to statistics from the same year, it’s impossible for someone working a full-time, minimum-wage job to afford a single-bedroom apartment in 93 percent of U.S. counties, and there are no states in which someone can rent a two-bedroom space on the current federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour. In other words, homelessness has little or nothing to do with personal responsibility, or lack thereof. It’s a consequence of large-scale economic decisions made by landlords and bosses. [...]

— Alex Skopic

[yanderefarm]

yandere prisoner x final boy reader

cw; gore, suggestive, implied violence towards reader, violence, knives, prison

here is his story.... name still undecided but!!! its him.

the forest branches are long and winding, like hands reaching out to grab and their twigs like claws scratching at your skin as you run through them. you hear the sound of manic laughter coming from too close behind you, the sound echoing like thunder pounding in your ears. your legs are going to give out soon. closer. you see a flash of green. closer. your foot hits a tree root and your body crashes through the stinging branches leaving a thousand scratches on your skin. you try to tuck into yourself as you hit the concrete but it's too much, everything hurts and you can't bring your legs to move anymore. closer. you see those grey eyes filled with vitriol. flash of red. flash of blue. red. blue. red. blue. a ringing like a siren is getting closer, louder. the weight of his body sinks onto your chest. that long slimy tongue drags up against your cheek.

your eyes shoot open and you're miles away from that cabin again. your cat has made itself comfortable on your chest and is licking your nose trying to wake you up while your alarm clock rings through the room. you feel bad as you shove your cat off your chest but you just can't breathe. finally able to take a deep breath you sit up. its not unusual for you to have nightmares about that night but ever since his release was announced it's been more and more frequent, a constant reminder of what you have to do. and today is the day of release.

outside of the prison is dozens of news reporters, people trying to get your opinion on this by shoving microphones in your face. you're unfortunately used to it and you just push them out of your face. the only thing that matters is that you get him today. the heavy metal gates open for you, they allow you into the belly of the beast again. you can't help but shake as you're led into the prison by guards who know what horror awaits you.

in the room you've met him a dozen times he sits with a small pile of belongings. his lips pull into a wide smile as soon as those grey eyes land on you. you can see his sharp canines and then his absurdly long tongue lick his lips like a hungry wolf. he thinks he's gotten his precious little bunny rabbit but you won't let yourself become another meal for this voracious predator.

you two have a short meaningless conversation before you're ready to leave with him. honestly it feels like everything is on autopilot as you guide him back out of the prison towards your car. he stops to talk to the reporters, to imply he's going to spend the night with you but your eyes glaze over to his taunts. you know he's thinking about all the letters he sent you over the years, you know he's dreaming about the torture he's going to inflict as soon as you two are alone. he won't get the chance.

he continues to make vaguely threatening perverse comments to you as you two enter the car. apparently he didn't expect his bunny rabbit to fight back. the needle sinks into his shoulder and within minutes he's passed out.

when he wakes up? he's in an all too familiar looking cabin. he's tied with the strongest chains you could find to the ground.

"do you remember this place...?" you ask when you notice him looking around.

"this isn't where we met." he says it confidently and he's not wrong.

"the one we met in was demolished. all of them were supposed to be. i managed to buy this one before they could destroy it."

"you're sooo romantic~"

you slam a familiar looking knife into the table. "do you know why this one is significant?"

"mmmm lemme guess... was someone you loved in here? or maybe you were supposed to stay in this one?"

".... you gutted my boyfriend and my best friend and you mutilated them so badly the coroner couldn't tell where one began and the other ended."

"oopsie~"

you let him get the better of you and you slap him hard across the cheek. he moans at the pain as a red and handprint starts to form.

"i remember how they felt... i remember the warmth. i remember that little roommate of yours was still alive while i fucked her guts."

he was provoking you to hit him again, the same way he provoked you in the prison. but now... you had the power. you walked away from him to grab the knife from the table.

"you liked that didn't you? you like being a disgusting monster, right?" you ran the knife down his chest and he shuddered. "then you'll like it if i show you how it feels to be used as a toy right?"

he didn't need to speak, you could see his tongue running against his lips. some of his drool even dripped down his now exposed chest. he wasn't going to enjoy this for long but you would.

[anarchytaco]

NSFW Alphabet for Art the Clown

A couple other people have done this already, but here's my take on it.

(18+ only)

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, gore, torture, one mention of n*crophilia, a teeny tiny hint at c*prophilia, you might think I'm a little insane

This is geared towards AFAB people.

As strange as it may seem, the reader character is consenting to these acts.

Whether you love or hate the Terrifier franchise, THIS POST IS NOT FOR EVERYONE. You’ve been warned.

Aftercare

There's not a whole lot of it. At the very most, Art will loosen up the restraints, if there are any. Even this, however, isn't a guarantee. He prefers to leave you in a state of "total ruin"; your scars, injuries, and extreme exhaustion get left untreated.

Body Part

His teeth allow for him to spread "joy" with his big smile, in addition with his ability to bite into your flesh. As for what is attached to you, Art favors your nose. It will absolutely be booped.

Cum

Semen will be inside you in some manner: vagina, anal, whatever new holes are created, etc. If it ends up in your mouth, then you must swallow.

Dirty Secret

There are no secrets.

Experience

Art knows the basics of giving pleasure, such as the clitoris location and how to stimulate it. It's unknown where he obtained these skills, but he definitely knows how to use them.

Favorite Position

It's when you're stripped and hung upside down with your legs spread open. He immerses himself in this sense of control, as you permit him to do whatever he wants.

Goofy

Art smiles and "laughs" as he tears you into pieces. He'll also honk his clown horn when he squeezes your tits and ass.

Hair

There's two possibilities here: his nuts are either as bald as his head, or the bush is absolutely wild. There is no in between.

Intimacy

His passion increases as the minutes pass; he immerses himself in your body and fluids.

Jack Off

Using a detached body part (head, leg, torso) as a flesh light would be Art's usual take on masturbation.

Kink

Art kinks generally revolve around a type of torture and gore; he engages in his own form of "BDSM". For instance, he'll handcuff you to the bedposts, then whip you with his cat o' nine tails. Another kink of his connects back to what he did in that pizza shop bathroom...

Location

His favorite places to fuck are within old, abandoned buildings, and especially the old carnival. He doesn't mind playing around in the laundromat either.

Motivation

Full-on clown cosplays, both sexy and unsexy, are one way to get him excited. What really gets Art going, though, is a fresh laceration. The sight of one makes him curious: how deep is it, and can he make it deeper?

NO

There may be a hint of gentleness in the beginning, but overall, Art will not go soft on you.

Oral

Blowjob sessions with him grabbing your head, forcing your mouth open, and having you deep throat his cock until you nearly pass out (and you sometimes do). When you're the one on the receiving end, Art starts out by teasing you with these long, agonizingly slow licks. Then, he'll start sucking on your clit in a rhythmic fashion, eventually inserting a couple fingers to match with the rhythm.

Pace

Art takes his time, but as previously mentioned, he'll be rough throughout; his favorite type of pain to inflict is one that's long-lasting.

Quickie

Quickie's with Art are rare. He prefers to savor his sexual urges for the perfect time and place. In his opinion, waiting enhances the experience, since he's finally able to release these bottled up emotions boiling within.

Risk

As a man of creativity, Art is always coming up with new ways to mess around. However, he leans away from submissive roles in order to avoid a scenario where you have the advantage. That principle may be thrown out the window, though, once you start referring to yourself as "mommy".

Stamina

Sessions as a whole tend to be about an hour long at least, so there will usually be just one round at a time. In terms of how long until Art ejaculates, it averages to about fifteen minutes (when you're directly stimulating his penis, of course).

Toy

You'll be faced with whatever tools and weapons Art has in his garbage bag, in addition to the recent project he's crafted on his workbench.

Unfair

There will lots of teasing from him, especially during the first ten minutes of sexy time. He loves how much it makes you beg, and also how loud you whine from denied orgasms.

Volume

Bro is obviously silent the entire time.

Wild Card

Imagine yourself hanging upside down (refer to his favorite position), blood rushing to your head as Art licks your pussy, digging his fingernails into your ass cheeks

X-Ray

It's pretty thick, reaching to around 5 or 6 inches.

Yearning

His sex drive is slightly above average, but he mostly relieves the tension through his acts of murder.

ZZZ

As I sort of stated at the beginning, he leaves you alone after sex. In other words, he doesn't fall asleep next to you. His sleep schedule is likely terrible anyway, due to how late he stays up.

[egypt-ancient-and-modern]

In this election in the USA, our liberties, identities, and the very soul of the nation is at stake. One side, the Republican side, has inflicted countless pain and suffering. They rolled back Roe. Women have died, continue to die as you read this, from lack of access to basic care due to abortion bans. Yet there is not a law regulating when men can do with their own bodies. Democrats have not handled the crisis and genocide in Gaza adequately. But Republicans and Trump have said that they would help Israel “finish the job” of genocide rather than call for a ceasefire. When American Jews express concerns, Trump blames them for his possible election loss in a move reminiscent of H*tler, thus showing the only side he cares for is his criminal, raping self snd gaining presidential immunity. Rather than dealing with the epidemic of gun violence, they would rather scapegoat the most vulnerable among us from immigrants to trans people to the mentally ill. Republicans, who botched a pandemic, are set to botch the economy and pass a greater tax load on the most economically vulnerable citizens while fat cats like Elon Musk get more tax breaks to spew their hateful rhetoric without consequences. Healthcare will be scrapped because, despite 8 years of time, Trump still only has "concepts of a plan" and has no intentions of making a plan as he us covered regardless. social security would be cut, harming disabled people (who he has openly mocked and questioned their right to exist straight from the Nazi playbook) and the elderly who have no ways to survive without it in many cases. He sells Bibles, and people assume he is Christian and some call a prophet. Let us remember Matthew 7:15 regarding false prophets. We know them by the fruit of their actions. These are his actions. Will you vote for a con man who wants to rip kindness from the world and thinks Kamala expressing joy is a threat? Please join me in voting away the biggest threat to American democracy and indeed human decency.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can i please have shang tsung(mk1) when he was just a salesman, meeting reader(a kind village person) and them helping him with his wounds everytime he gets beat up and they actually show him that not everyone is mean? :> It can be a fic or just hcs, i just need shang tsung content :<

Does this contain dramatic ooc Shang Tsung? Yes. When I see him, all I see is the cat being held at knifepoint…also this is unnecessarily long.

You knew you shouldn’t spare Shang Tsung any ounce of sympathy nor remorse for his faulty practices and causing loss and suffering to spread evermore throughout your village then needed. But that didn’t mean you condom the call to violence from your fellow villagers, most of whom had grown tired of allowing themselves to become deluded to Shang Tsung’s lies, whilst others just wanted an plausible excuse to get their hands on the salesman for the longest time now and had finally found their excuse.

They all had valid reasons to return the harm Shang Tsung had put upon everyone tenfold but an entire village against one man wasn’t exactly the fairest of odds. Then again if you were to being this up to anyone and they would retaliate by saying that their current circumstances weren’t fair either, before going on a tangent of how Shang Tsung took advantage of a vulnerable backwater village that would firmly believe that pigs could fly.

And yet despite all that, you could never bring yourself to inflict physical harm on him, if anything you refrained from anything in relation to violence almost entirely; So when the mob of villagers went to gang up on the salesman, you would make sure that you were far away from it as possible not matter how well deserved it maybe…you didn’t want to bear witness to it nor encourage such ugly behaviour that every being in existence seemed to be cursed with.

Upon returning however, you were always met with a pitiful sight of Shang Tsung looking worse for wear with his injuries and disheveled and torn clothes. It tugged at your heart to help him, show him an ounce of kindness in a village filled with people unsatisfied with him still living. You wondered how much of a difference would it make for them had Shang Tsung did pass away, for you truly believed that harming him wouldn’t make the dead come back to life, it wouldn’t bring the sick and injured back to full health; nothing would undo what already had been predestined to occur.

However Shang Tsung was made aware of you presence almost instantly, you weren’t apart of the mob that come to beat him on a daily basis, he would know as those same angry faces were deeply engraved within his mind that he could tell when something amongst them was amiss and yours certainly didn’t strike familiarity within him; but that didn’t mean he was about to be seen looking weak and pathetic in front of an unfamiliar face.

��If it is revenge you want,’ Shang Tsung began bitterly, ‘have at it. If it is restitution, there is nothing left.’

‘Oh, that’s not why I’m here-‘ you began.

‘I know, or else you would’ve been with that bloodthirsty mob earlier.’ Shang Tsung interrupts with a scoff, looking you in the eyes now. ‘So pray tell why are you even here? To brutalise me emotionally or mentally?’ He then questions before shrugging his shoulders and looking down to pick at the dirt beneath his nails. ‘Hate to be the bearer of bad news but I’m pretty sure your friends had that covered.’

‘If you would just shut it for a minute and let me speak then maybe you would know that I’m here to help you with your wounds.’ You said, not wanting to stand out in the pouring rain all night, listening to him go on a tangent about your backwater village as if you didn’t already know, your the one who lives here your entire life with no promise of a better one anywhere in sight!

Shang Tsung’s brows raised in surprise. Help? You’re willing enough to help him, despite everything he’s done? Now why was that simple sentence the most oddest thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. Was this a trick? A trap? Even as he’s looking into your eyes, Shang Tsung wasn’t quite sure what your motive in all this was.

Your eyes were so kind, genuine and honest that even if you were lying, you’d think he would have known better than to trust a beautiful liar. Not that he would admit to any of this, he had a reputation to uphold.

‘What’s in it for me?’ He asks, leaning forward.

‘You wounds won’t be susceptible to infection?’ You said. ‘I don’t have much else to give other then medical aid so…’ you trailed off as the sound of rain took to filling in the silence. Shang Tsung was silent for a while and you were bringing to feel stupid, you even began to regret offering him help and were about to call it a night, when Shang Tsung said something so quietly that you couldn’t quite hear it over the rain.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t catch that.’

‘I said fine.’ Shang Tsung said with a hint of irritation of having to repeat himself. ‘but don’t think anything of this, you are to patch my wounds as per your insistence. Nothing more, nothing less.’

After making a deal with seemingly the devil, you went ahead and lead him back to your place to heal him of his wounds and seeing him off, thinking it to be a one time only thing, before anyone got suspicious of your involvement with the man who had caused them so much grief and misery.

Unfortunately you were proven wrong as it seemed that either every time you healed Shang Tsung of his wounds, the next set he would obtain were objectively worse than the ones before and naturally, you began to worry that the villagers were taking it too far this time.

‘Oh my gods.’ You said from behind your hands upon seeing the state that the village had left Shang Tsung in this time, it almost brings you to tears. He looked utterly terrible and had an hard time trying to move from the doorway without wincing, allowing for a cold draft to sweep inside and bringing rain along with it.

‘Nice to know that I still leave you speechless.’ Shang Tsung teased but the smirk upon his lips was easily wiped off his face as it contorted in discomfort and his eyes clenched shut, he grit teeth to hold back a pained grunt. The villagers defiantly bruised something, how troublesome.

‘As much as I know that you love hearing the sound of your own voice, but I’m going to need you to stop unless you want to get even worse.’ You replied, already working on getting him sat down comfortably on the chair you had pulled from another room along with your medical equipment. Spending time with Shang Tsung would’ve drove anyone into a fit of rage either way how arrogant and pompous he sounded, but if anything you’ve gradually picked up some of his sass whilst patching up his wounds.

So whether he tried anything, you were able to throw it back at him, to which he would always reply with; ‘you dare to kick a man while he’s down my dear healer?’ Whilst his eyes shone mischievously.

‘If that man is anything like you then I’m sure he’ll survive.’ You responded back in kind, yet all the while keeping a gentle and steady hand when stitching his deeper cuts and gashes before coving them up. ‘Like a cockroach.’ You heard him sharply inhale and looked at him, worried that you might’ve pressed down too hard on one of his wounds and were about to ask, only to see him looking away from you with his nose up in the air; even when he’s injured Shang Tsung never fails to find the opportunity to be dramatic.

‘You did not just compare me to those vile things.’ He spat.

‘You say that now but cockroaches are notoriously impossible to kill.’ You said absentmindedly, having calmed down upon realising that he wasn’t in any sort pain that you didn’t noticed the sigh of relief that you had let out, not until Shang Tsung made a comment on it.

‘Were you worried about me, dear healer?’ He’d ask, seeing an opening to use to his advantage.

‘I thought I might’ve pressed too hard on one of your wounds or reopened them somehow.’ you shot him a small genuine smile. ‘I’ve never been more glad in being wrong. I don’t like seeing you hurt, not to this extent, it’s not like the villagers will gain anything from it.’ You didn’t think much when Shang Tsung remained uncharacteristically silent throughout the rest of the treatment, staring ahead at nothing, he didn’t say anything until he was about to leave where he flashed you a forced smile. ‘Thank you for healing me.’ Was all he said but it was enough to leave you stunned.

Shang Tsung was never one to thank you after healing him, ever, so much so that hearing him say that made you think that something within him had changed, but you weren’t the type to charge into a burning house just because you tricked yourself into seeing something; you were kind but to that degree.

Meanwhile Shang Tsung was mulling over your words in his head. Out of an entire village hellbent on seeing him dead, you were the only one to show him an ounce of kindness despite everything. At first he thought you were unaware of who he was and what he has done to your entire village but when he found out that you were aware, it made all your interactions with him up till now all the more questionable.

He didn’t understand what you think you’d get from being kind to him nor understood your motive, not even your intentions. Yet the more he came to you for healing, he gradually stopped being speculative and started believing that this was just who you were as an individual, it wasn’t a persona you put on for fun. You held a genuine sense of self that not many could claim to have, not even himself. He doesn’t like being vulnerable but he has found that he could do so fluidly when within your presence, sure it took awhile but in the end Shang Tsung knew that it was near impossible for him to be redeemed, he had hurt too many and push many more past breaking point.

Your kindness may have been a reprieve for him but it could never erase the blood off of his hands that will sooner or later taint you.

[bonefall]

i feel like the plot of dotc was originally pretty different but then something went terribly wrong. theres no way a good chunk of this was written with the intention of you liking clear sky with what happens on the page.

Unfortunately, I think they did have the plot laid out. Slash and One Eye were DEFINITELY hasty additions, but I think Clear Sky Redemption was planned from Book 1.

Even at his worst, you're supposed to think of him as a "tragic figure" who does terrible things for misguided reasons. How much actual HARM he inflicts on the cast is irrelevant as long as he had good intentions.

(And, closely note who Clear Sky's victims are. He exclusively murders women and threatens and steals from "outsider" cats. Killing Gray Wing would be the point that the narrative considers "too far gone." The narrative does not take violence against the other groups as seriously as it does against Gray Wing.)

What happened is, simply... the Erins do actually think that an abuser who says things like, "This is for your own good" and "Look what you made me do" is sympathetic.

As long as Clear Sky gets a moment or two where he laments about how he TOTALLY doesn't want to do this, or where he briefly admits he overreacted after shoving his son's face in an infected wound, the Erins think it makes his actions less bad.

Forgiveable.

You're not really supposed to like Infected Wound Face Shoving, or him opening up Misty like a pinata, you're supposed to wince just like Gray Wing does, and insist this isn't The Real Clear Sky. He's a good boy deep down, because He Feels Bad, so there must be some very understandable, correctable reason he's doing what he's doing.

It's just abuse apologia.

I think what most likely happened was that they got to First Battle, started the redemption arc, and realized they didn't have a goddamn antagonist anymore. So, they scrambled to demonstrate a "REAL" villain to make Clear Sky less bad-- One Eye.

Killing One Eye was meant to demonstrate that he "does care" about his subordinates because he didn't just run away (as if a megalomaniac would not want his power back for any other reason).

But then, AGAIN, they FORGOT THEY NEEDED AN ANTAGONIST, so they invented ANOTHER evil rogue who was secretly off-screen the whole time. They had to one-up One Eye, but couldn't.

Is it sloppy? Yes. But this is the only thing that makes sense to me, considering how much of a mess this arc is in terms of both plot and pacing.

[crystalbeetle888]

Promising Future

1.8k Words - SFW - Hybrid AU

- brief mentions of kidnapping, violence, torture, minor fluff -

The darkness surrounding you seems eternal, not knowing where your body ends or the walls of the cold hard shipping container begins. At least the freezing nights were better than the sweltering days, inside that metal box it felt like an oven. Your arms ache, the thick chain holding them loosely above your head clinks as you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. The rusted muzzle weighs heavy around your skull, its mouthpiece sharp against your tongue.

You had been in hiding for most of your life, living amongst a small rural community in Alaska. Before an unmarked militia group came through to clear the people out for an upcoming oil line. As they did they took you, a rare feral hybrid, Lupus-Versipellis, a wolf hybrid. Feral hybrids were rarer than domestic species like dogs or cats, and are often outcast and forced into hiding for being assumed dangerous. Which just makes them all the more allusive.

You couldn’t tell how long it had been since your capture, but your hair had since grown long down your back, matts littered throughout. You have had many different buyers all across the world try to break you into a pliant soldier. Various methods were inflicted upon you. From beatings to negotiations, from tying you to a post for days with no food or water, to attempted medical and chemical reconditioning. Key word, attempted. Little was actually known on hybrid physiology so it wasn’t uncommon for people to under-sedate you. They quickly learnt that wasn’t the safest method for reconditioning.

Your latest buyers seemed to be Mexican. They never spoke to you but based on the tattoos you saw when they came to feed you, the general climate, and the fact that you could hear them speaking Spanish outside of the shipping container, strongly hinted at the Cartel. You had only really heard about them through wild action movies and terrible bar jokes though, so other than that you were in the dark. Literally.

Your ears perk at the sound of distant gunfire, it echoes loudly through the previously still night. You rattle your chains in suspense. You can hear yelling and loud explosions. Then, nothing. You wait for what seems like forever before the shuffling of footsteps and the clanging of metal breaks the silence. A stream of silver light shines through the darkness as the door slowly scrapes open and two silhouettes come into view.

“Fooken hell, they av’ a hybrid” a Scottish man's voice echos.

You growl deeply at them, the noise vibrating through your chest. “A cranky one at that. Get the Colonel, he’s gonna wanna see this ""Yes sargent” the other man replies before disappearing from view.

You squint at the man, struggling to see him properly as he approaches. “Easy there lass, M’ not gonna hurt ya” he mutters, arms out wide in submission. You shake your chains violently, trying to scare him off. “Easy, Easy” he finally steps close enough for you to see him. He’s a stocky white male with a short brown mohawk and piercing blue eyes. “Easy there lass, I’m just trying to help ya”. Your heart pounds against your chest, panic overwhelms your mind as he reaches a cautious hand towards the back of your head “Hay I’m just trying to get it off” he reassures you. Your breathing is laboured, you eye his hand as it reaches behind you and lifts the heavy padlock. Your ears press flat against your skull as you watch him cautiously.

Suddenly three more silhouettes appear at the door “Dios Mio” a gravelly voice whispers. “Alejandro! We're gonna need some bolt cutters” the man next to you calls out. “Aye!” he responds before whispering to the other man in spanish. You swing the chains violently, trying to free yourself from their confines. A muffled wail ripping from your throat at your fruitless attempts. “Hay, hay, hay, take it easy!”, “Calm down niña”, “You need to quit that darling” the men unsuccessfully try to reason with you as you continue to thrash around. Pain shooting through your shoulders causes you to fall limp against the chains, the weight of your body on your arm causes you to cry out.

Suddenly, the weight on your arms is lifted as you’re hauled into the air, the Scottish man's thick arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, his head pressing into your stomach. You stop thrashing and stare at him, completely stunned. You’re finally able to rest your arms. You place them slowly on top of his head, groaning as the tension releases from your shoulder blades. “Better?” he squeezes your leg, you huff in response. “So you understand english” you huff again, staring down at him as he gazes back up at you. His stubble prickles your bare stomach as he talks, his skin radiating heat. “So she’s friendly then?” the southern white man asks. You growl in response causing the scot to chuckles “Careful Graves, she’s a feisty one” he pats your legs. “She’ll fit right in then camarada” Alejandro says.

Finally a young man walks into the shipping container holding some bolt cutters. “Let’s get you free then aye lass?” the scott smiles up at you. The young man approaches hesitantly before looking to his superior, “Go on” he says to the younger man. He turns back towards you, you can hear his heartbeat racing in his chest as he places the jaws of the bolt cutters around the padlock on your wrist. He struggles for a moment before…Snap! A cuff falls from you, the chain connected to the ceiling now hangs loosely. You grip onto the man's shoulder with your free hand, offering up the other. He readies the bolt cutters and…Snap! You’re so close to being free.

The scotsman squats down, placing you gently on the floor “Don’t try and stand up yet lass” he rubs your bare back in comfort before grabbing the padlock on your muzzle “Take it easy on this one amigo”. The young man nods, positioning the cutters and…Snap! The scott takes the padlock off, before unclasping the muzzle and pulling it off your face and out your mouth. You breathe out your mouth freely for the first time in years. The cold air graces your lips. You bring your now trembling hands up to your face, you feel so weightless. A sob escapes your throat as you sit there in your newly found freedom. “You’re alright, we’ve got ya bonnie” he places a warm hand on your back.

The hospital room was dimly lit and smelled strongly of chemicals you couldn't quite place. After cutting you down, the Scottish man named Johnny, escorted you back to the hospital at their base. Doctors and nurses fluttered around you, curious at your unique appearance. They placed you on a drip, bandaged your wrists and and sponge bathed the rest of you down. You were put in thin shorts and a shirt that tied up on the sides, the grippy socks they provided didn’t fit your feet as your claws had grown so long they tore straight through them.

You listened intently to the conversations down the hall, most of them were about you, but you weren't interested in all their gossip. They’re not who you’re waiting for. Heavy boots thumping through the hall towards you catch your attention. Your ears stand straight, focused in on the door as they approach. The handle rattles and the door swings open, revealing Johnny carrying a large tray of assorted meats “Wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I had ‘em put a bit of everythin’ on” he smiles, walking into the room casually, he places the tray on your lap.

The smell of raw meat makes your hair prickle and stand on end. You were starving. Snatching the food off the tray you rip into it, snapping and growling as you eat. “Easy there lass, don’t want you to choke” he chuckles, sitting down in the chair beside your bed. Ignoring him, you continue to chomp through your charcuterie of meat until someone else enters the room. You glance up at them wearily, it was Alejandro, the colonel running this base. “How is she holding up?” he asks Johnny. “Enjoying the food, still hasn’t said a word though” he responds. Alejandro nods before directing his attention to you. Your ears flatten against your head, a growl rumbling from your chest. He huffs in mild amusement “You can grumble all you want senora, but eventually you’ll have to talk to us” he chastises you, folding his arms over his broad chest. You look away from him, nibbling timidly on your food. You don’t like being forced to do things, or talk, or anything really. Your capture has made you increasingly stubborn.

He grunts at your behaviour, “I’ll come back tomorrow once you’re healed more, maybe some exercise will loosen you up hmm?” He nods at Johnny before turning back around and leaving the room.

“We’re not going to be able to help ya if you don’t talk to us Bonnie” he whispers as gently as his thick accented voice would allow him to. You side eye him, huffing out your nose in reluctance. “Would you at least tell me your name?” He pleads with you, leaning his elbows the side of the bed.

Anxiety shoots through your body like electricity. You had learned early on in your capture that the less they know about you, the better. This meant no talking to anyone about anything, no responding, and certainly no trusting them. When they had nothing on you it was easier to act like a complete animal, after all that’s all that you were to them. A feral beast.

Your lip quivers as you try to muster up the courage to say something, anything. You wanted to trust him that this was all over, but you couldn’t. He was just another soldier following orders.

You clenched your jaw tightly and shook your head, brows furrowed in frustration. He sighs before standing “That’s alright lass, I’ll try to check up on you tomorrow aye” he says, as he makes his way to the door.

You let out a gasp as he is about to leave, trying to will yourself to say something. A moment passes in silence.

“Thank you” you whisper meekly, barely audible.

He turns to look at you, a wide grin stretched across his face, his eyes twinkling with joy “I’ll see you tomorrow dove” he says before gently closing the door behind him. Your face feels hot and your tummy flutters ‘Why did he smile at me like that?’ You think to yourself. Shaking off the strange feeling, you place the now empty food tray to the side before snuggling under the cover. It isn’t long before exhaustion takes its toll, and you drift off into a deep sleep.

[anxious-witch]

Inspired by this post by @purgatory606 because after seeing that, I wanted to talk about DBDA weapons/fighting styles of characters. Well Charles and partially Edwin here, I might also analyze Crystal and Esther in another post.

I'd like to start from the scene from the first episode where Charles is trying to teach Edwin self defense and he chooses boxing. Which is quite interesting, if a bit odd choice.

He gives Edwin boxing gloves, and then required him to his his palms, albeit protected, but still. Such an odd choice? Without anger or adrenaline from the fight, most people find it quite difficult to hit something-or someone particularly hard. Doubly so when a person holding a target you should be hitting is someone you care for. It's difficult to override your naturally instinct to pull your punch back, which is what I think happens to Edwin. Especially because he generally isn't someone who leans into violence, even in situations where it would be warranted.

I think we can presume Charles was either teaching Edwin how to fight in case he finds himself weaponless, given he doesn't have an infinite backpack, or he was judging by his own instict, not seeing how Edwin wouldn't want to use brutal force. If anything, Edwin would likely do better with a more precise, long range weapon. Like a sword, or a bow.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Let's look at Charles' weapons of choice and how he utilizes them. Throughout the s1, we see him use a cricket bat, a music box(?), a molotov cocktail and a sword.

Cricket bat is his preferred weapon of choice and as the og post said, bats are for pure, raw pain. Traditionally there is not much elegance or finesse with it. You use a bat when you want to inflict the most amount of hurt in the shortest and most brutal way possible. What I find interesting is the way Charles wields it, which he does in a way that is almost elegant.

We see him twirl it on several ocassions and while he does hold it in a way that one would expect would inflict most damage, I am not sure we ever see him use it that way? Esther knocks him down with her cane before he can, he doesn't actually get to use in on the Cat King, he beats up the Night Nurse with a music box, not his bat, he breaks David's mirrors in a way that he actually sends the bat flying, not actively smashing mirrors with brute force like one would expect. And when he faces Esther's snake, his bat breaks.

What does that tell us about Charles? I think his bat actually reflects him quite a bit. Both how he sees himself, and how people who don'tknow him well do. So many people make a mistake of writing his off as just the brawn, of someone only there to deliver lethal sort of damage. Even Charles himself seems to sometimes think of himself that way. Of someone capable of great violence. Because he thinks that's simoly what he is. A bat cannot be used for anything else but direct damage.

Except....Charles finds a way. His attacks may be brutal, but they are very precise as we saw in David scene. And even when we consider other insance when he used different weapons, thr only time his blow didn't land as expected was against Esther in episode one.

The attack against the Night Nurse was brutal amd seemingly uncontrolled, but he got the job done precisely the way he intended? He didn't kick her around mindlessly, he kicked her off the cliff to get rid of her and the sea monster they were trying to lull to sleep. It was violent yes, but he was still very aware of what he was doing.

Throwing the molotov cocktail at the Dollheaded Spider? Also very calculated to allow him and Edwin time to run. Hiss fight against the snake? Once he concluded brutal force of his bat wasn't working, he choose a very precise and deadly weapon instead. And used it perfectly, in quite an elegant move, too!

In conclusion, I think Charles' weapon of choice has more to do with his perception of self rather than his actual realities or abilities. Which I think is why we get a scene of the bat breaking in the last episode and have it replaced with a sword! His perception of self changed from a weapon more used for it's brutal force to a weapon more commonly associated with knights and heroes. I'd be very curious to see if the bat returns to s2 and how it'll be utilized

[qierxing]

Determination

A/N: Finished the LaDs story if you couldn’t tell. If you asked what came over me to write this, I could not tell you because truly I think I was in a trance because I’m not exactly a Sylus stan Yan! Sylus/Qin Che x Reader Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. CW/TW: Dub//Con touching, Manipulation, Power Imbalances, Disability issues, Unhealthy relationships, Obsessive behavior, Reader is not in-game MC but MC is referenced and reader is lowkey Longing(THEY HAVE TWO HANDS OKAY), kind of Alt! AU following the storyline

—

From the moment you were born, your life had been planned out to the end.

You would grow up, become useful, and then once you lost your usefulness; be ushered to handling petty things to earn your right to exist, and then you would die. Just like everyone else in the N-109 zone. Cremated or dissolved, of course. No one is dumb enough to leave behind evidence or traces, or even worse, parts for grave robbers with no morals and a penchant for quick gold. That was simply the circle of life here. 

Your future had been set in stone as soon as your father had settled here. On some particularly trying days, you resent him for it. Other days, you know enough that he had no choice. 

“Is the old man in?”

The voice makes you tense reactively before you relax, recognizing the familiar low cadence. 

“He’s out on an errand, should I pass on your message?”

The leader of Onychinus and your boss by proxy, shakes his head. You didn’t bother to ask twice. Your focus once again is drawn back to the shiny red protocore on your desk. It’s a tiny thing; requiring meticulous care, lest it be shattered by too much pressure. 

“Is there something I can do for you while you’re here then?” 

A shuffle, then several clinks in your hearing peripheral. He must be looking through the backlog or the recent projects. It’s a habit whenever he felt restless and after some time, you learned to push down the feeling like your work was being dissected bit by bit by his intimidating eyes. 

The prolonged silence makes you forget your own question, too engrossed in the protocore in front of you. When Sylus speaks again, a tremor runs though your hands and make you almost lose your grip.

“What do you think I should do with a kitten that keeps hissing at me?”

You look over with wide eyes. Of course, there can only be one thing he’s referring to–the fact that the Onychinus’s leader is in possession of a valuable asset is not a secret. An outsider, of all things, too. Some would shake their heads in pity, others would sneer and say she had only herself to blame, and even more would only care once her dead body was laid bare and the aether core in their hands.

To you, though? You thought she was amazing. 

She was like the chivalrous heroes in the few scrappy picture books your father had. Dashing, fearless, and always fighting for justice. What was it like to be a hunter? You’ve never seen her, yet you daydream constantly about the life she led, and how you wished it could be yours.

“I feed some stray cats here and there. They usually warm up once they realize I’m not a threat and I’m trying to help them.” The sincere advice has him snorting in cynical disbelief. 

“And if that kitty still shows their claws?” You shift uncomfortably at the way his voice dips. When he was angry, Sylus was terrifying. But he wasn’t angry, not yet, and you wish you weren’t the factor that could change that right now.

“Usually time will do its work.” You try to sound casual, but you can feel Sylus’s eyes piercing through you. You try to swallow the saliva clogging your mouth. You don’t want to imagine what kind of methods the boss would utilize to make people talk. You distanced yourself from such violence, even if it was naive and stupid to do so. Still, there was a clear difference from self-defense and actively inflicting violence. The twins that shadowed Sylus made that crystal clear.

“Hmm…if you say so.” The heavy gaze lifts off of you and it’s like a weight lifts off your throat, letting air back into your lungs. 

Another few seconds pass in silence, with you praying for nothing else of note will happen.

”The old man told me that you’ll be benched soon.” 

The pointed sentence makes your hands freeze. The bright gold protocurve gleams in the dim workshop, and for a moment, the blood rushing your ears is all you can hear. 

“I’ve been unable to keep up with the workload, sir.” You keep your eyes firmly fixed on the ruby red core, forcing your hands to keep moving while you modify the curve. “I don’t think I can be any more help to my dad.”

Not entirely a full lie. You’re not sure if it’s because the rough and tough life of N-109 is wearing you down like sandpaper or if it’s your body collapsing in on itself due to its condition, but most days it’d be a miracle if you could get one modification done without mistakes. 

One time when you were still an immature child, you disobeyed your father and snuck out of the house during dawn. Your life had always been the pitch black of night, with the brightest natural light being the moon and its silvery clouds wrapping around it like a translucent shawl. When you asked your dad what happened when you slept, he simply stated the moon also went to bed. So then, what exactly happened while it slept?

The sun was blinding. It seared you to the bone as the heat increased with the hours passing and it rose above the horizon. It was so hot, yet you could not help but feel at peace, as if the rays were cleansing you. The landscape under its light was depressing as usual; metal scraps and rusted junk scattered and embedded in dull colored dirt and rocks. This much didn’t surprise you, but it still reminded you of the bleakness of your world. 

It made you feel helplessly trapped.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you talk to me?” 

You blink once, then twice at Sylus standing in front of you, with an unreadable expression on his face. He had stated it as if it was common sense to bring up a grievance with him. As if he wasn’t the most terrifying power within the N-109 zone. As if you and your father weren’t subject to his whims.

”I…I’m sorry,” your eyes cast downward in guilt again. You wish your boss was as evil as some of the rumors make him out to be. It would make things so much easier. “I just didn’t think you need to be bothered with something this trivial.”

If possible, the expression on his face sours even more. “One of my researchers is not trivial. You help me, and I help you.”

You bite your tongue. Of course he was practical. It is true. Without you and your father, he would lose a quarter of his manpower in tech. But this just hardens your resolve even further. 

“Thank you for your concern, sir,” you plaster a sickeningly polite smile on, straining to keep the facade of a lackey who was happy to live another day. “But it’s alright—even if I can’t directly assist my father anymore, I can find other ways to be helpful.”

Why you were significant enough as a cog in his many machinations is still plain weird. But that doesn’t matter. Soon enough, you won’t be one if at all.

Sylus gives a bark of harsh laughter, startling you and making you drop one of your tools. Your skin crawled, but you willed yourself to stay calm, to maintain a calm demeanor that belied none of your true thoughts. It had been the only thing you kept from the many street smarts of N-109 when you grew up. 

He reaches out his hand. His evol wraps crimson red smoke around his outstretched fingers, and when it clears, there’s a slip of crinkled white notebook paper. Your heart immediately plummets into your stomach.

”Are you sure it’s not because you finally found an out to this hellhole?”

You hadn’t fully realized it, but you’re no longer sitting, and the next thing you know, the world has flashed into white and ringing. You’re no longer even thinking at this point, running on pure adrenaline and instinct. Sylus may be the one running the show, but even he couldn’t know all of the labyrinth of secret exits this workshop had. 

You got exactly ten steps in the direction of one before your face met the concrete floor. You don’t need to look to see what’s pinning you down. It’s almost insulting, but most of all, it’s aggravating to know how close freedom was in reach, only to be stopped short of it.

“You really thought something like that could stop me?” Sylus’s voice drawls above your struggling body. You’re wrenched up to stand in front of him, arms held up like a crucified deity. He fiddles with the now broken protocore in his fingers, turning it this way and that, so that the dim lights caught the cracked grooves and threw reflections on the grungy walls around you. Finally, he drops it and with a crack, his polished shoe has grinded it to nothing. “Well, it’s certainly a novel idea.”

You don’t bother to say anything, but a sob nearly wells up, just barely held back by clenched teeth. You were so, so close. Now you’ll never know what it felt to be in bright city lights and live a normal life. 

“I thought it was clear that the only place you had was by my side.” Sylus clicks his tongue, tilting his head. You’re forced forward, and then your head was buried in his shoulder as his hands found their way onto your waist, tight and unyielding. The acrid smell of gunpowder and alcohol from his ironed button up makes your nose wrinkle and although you try to turn your head away, one of his hands presses your head even closer. “I should’ve known better that you would get your hopes up when that hunter came.”

Hot breath ghosts your neck, sending goosebumps up your skin, and before you could stop him, his teeth are buried inside tender flesh, making you cry out in pain. Your struggling starts up again, but Sylus doesn’t acknowledge it, instead lathering a lithe tongue over the wound, causing pleasurable shivers up your spine. 

“Then, if you want to leave so badly, how about you stay with me?” he whispers with a tenderness that makes your head spin.

No matter how much you want it, you could not fight the fate that was set for you.

[yanderes-galore]

Dutch van der linde Panther hybrid au concept 🗣🗣

It's time for Panther to write panthers.

Yandere! Panther! Dutch Van Der Linde Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Courting, Scent kink, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Possessive behavior, Biting, Marking, Grooming (As in what cats do), Violence, Blood, Mentions of mates, Murder, Jealousy, Dubious relationship.

I know for hybrid concepts I usually tend to write human/hybrid pairings.

However, hear me out on this.

You can either have a human darling fooled by an injured Dutch, the panther pretending to be injured to lay low from the law or rob your home.

Yet the panther then gets too attached... seeing you as a mate or human to call his own.

OR, Panther! Dutch falling for Domestic Cat! Darling.

You're a domestic feline hybrid that lives in one of the towns.

Maybe you're a farm cat in Valentine/Emerald Ranch... or perhaps a city cat in Saint Denis.

Either way, despite your smaller build, Dutch is smitten by you and your scent.

Even to the point of stalking you around, watching you (and your human if you have one), all while the much larger cat tries to court you.

He wants to corrupt such an innocent cat to be with him, to be part of his gang, to be his.

His gang is full of hybrids.

He'd probably take his darling, human or hybrid, to his gang and make them stay at camp with him.

But first... Dutch would do his best to sway them in his favor.

Dutch is known for having a silver tongue, for swaying people.

Him being a panther hybrid only reflects such cunning behavior.

With a fanged grin and sway of his tail, Dutch can be beyond manipulative.

Perhaps he wounds himself to allow a human to care for him?

He'd inflict a bullet wound or claw at his leg, just to bleed at your doorstep and gain your pity.

Big panther or not, you won't leave him out here, will you?

He'd use such a tactic to lay low, pretending to be your domestic little stray while you care for him.

He may swipe from you but he mostly just needs you and your home for cover.

He keeps in contact with the gang, often asking some of the other hybrids for updates on certain things.

However... In this scenario, Dutch may get addicted to being pampered by you.

He's a predatory feline, one meant to survive in the wild on his own.

Yet when you bandage him, clean him, feed him, treat him like a house cat?

Well... He isn't going to turn that down.

In fact... Dutch finds himself attached to you, seeing you as his human.

He rarely leaves your home to lay low.

Sure, he could mask himself, but then he wouldn't get to lay in your lap and purr.

A similar situation occurs if you are a domestic hybrid.

Except, he isn't trying to lay low.

He simply caught a whiff of your scent, smelled feline, and followed you.

Only to learn you're a pampered house cat hybrid, living either on your own or with a human of your own.

Everything from your furred ears and tail to your clothes was so... proper.

So different compared to him, a wild hybrid covered in dirt.

He couldn't help but be attached, this time due to more primal reasons.

Although, he'd take a human or hybrid as a mate, he's compatible with both as long as the hybrid is feline based (and has a uterus, he doesn't have to worry about kittens if you have no uterus)

You're so different... Dutch bets you wouldn't last in a fight, be that with guns or claws.

You need a big strong mate to claim and protect you, don't you?

The panther would linger in front of his obsession's window, sniffing your scent and pawing to come inside your home.

He's a rugged hybrid... but he can't help but want you, a smaller and more delicate hybrid.

Dutch knows he has a domestic ginger haired cat hybrid at the camp... but you?

Human, hybrid, doesn't matter...

Dutch wants you as his mate, ignoring Molly in favor of this new obsession. (Justice for my girl....)

Now that there's some background of Dutch's bond towards you, here's some general behavior.

Dutch's purrs are loud.

He often likes to crawl on top of his obsession and cuddle them, purring away with his long tail wrapped around their waist.

He likes to coat you in his scent by rubbing against you, even coating himself in yours so people associate you with each other.

Poor Molly, the ginger domestic cat hybrid, is going to pick up on your scent on Dutch....

He doesn't even seem to care.

All he cares about is you now.

Dutch would groom you, fur or not.

By this I of course mean him running his tongue along you.

For humans it's much rougher, his tongue feeling like sandpaper as he coats you in his saliva.

He grooms you not only to scent, but soothe himself.

It reassures him he's claimed you.

Speaking of which, Dutch would have a thing for biting.

He likes to bite your neck and nape, purring as he marks you and licks your skin.

He's possessive, the whole reason he scents you so aggressively.

Soon, when he feels he can go outside, Dutch stalks you from a distance.

His hazel eyes never leave your form, remembering the scent of those around you to hunt down later.

When you get home, the panther immediately scents you with low growls.

How does he deal with rivals? Claws or guns, depending on the situation.

Claws are definitely more silent.

Although, guns are cleaner.

It depends on how much the person got on his nerves.

Dutch taking you back to camp is inevitable.

If you're human or a domestic cat, it doesn't matter.

You'll be in a camp full of hybrids and have to rely on Dutch for help.

There's all sorts of hybrids in the gang.

Canines, felines, bears, birds, rodents, deer, rabbits...

It can be dangerous for someone who isn't well equipped.

If you're human, congrats, you're the only full human there.

You're a pure human surrounded by hybrids.

If you're a hybrid, Dutch keeps you in his tent.

Getting you there is the tricky part.

Dutch would have to knock you out in both scenarios, tossing you on a horse before riding back to camp.

Hosea's probably going to lecture him, the damn owl....

He doesn't care if you feel out of place or intimidated.

The panther keeps you close to him, purring as he glares towards the other hybrids in the area.

In camp, he has to worry about less people around you.

Yet he still has to worry about people like Micah or Javier getting too close to you, his mate.

Dutch would be one to corrupt your innocent mindset.

He's done it to many others.

In fact, that's like everyone in the gang.

The panther has honeyed words.

Dutch would bribe you with freedom and trinkets, begging you to stay with him in the camp.

No matter what happens, you're his top priority.

Molly no doubt is envious of your new position.

Even if it was not a role you asked for.

Being Dutch's "mate" wasn't your intention.

He just managed to coax you into being his.

If Molly tried to start something or fought with you, Dutch looms behind her.

The panther's eyes glare into the smaller ginger cat, crossing his arms with a flick of his tail.

Molly wouldn't hurt you regardless, even in envy.

She knows Dutch is a dangerous man.

Dutch is a man who gets what he wants, no matter how much blood is spilled.

In fact, as a hunter and con man, he loves fooling people to get what he wants.

Dealing with Dutch in general is a poor choice...

But as a hybrid? You'd swear he's even worse.