#fritz labelle

[niiikooooo]

07// No Hard Feelings

[fritzes]

why do you go blind each time you look at yourself?

taylor fritz + private eyes (kt tunstall)

[doueverwonder]

I am not going to start writing parallels between Friedrich Wilhelm I & Friedrich the Greats relationship and Gilbert & Ludwigs relationship. I am not going to start writing parallels between Friedrich Wilhelm I & Friedrich the Greats relationship and Gilbert & Ludwigs relationship. I am not going to start writing parallels between Friedrich Wilhelm I & Friedrich the Greats relationship and Gilbert & Ludwigs relationship. I am not going to start writing parallels between Friedrich Wilhelm I & Friedrich the Greats relationship an-

[hizznbyte]

please wish happy bday to fritz for me :3

-random tumblr anon

Thank yous random anon! I will be sure to tell him :33

*insert cool electric guitar riff here*

[creature-wizard]

Looks like it's time to talk about starseeds and the New Age movement again.

Since I'm seeing more starseed content being posted, I'm gonna make another post on why the whole starseed thing and the surrounding New Age belief system are... not good.

So for those who don't know, New Age mythology is essentially a hodgepodge of cherrypicked and distorted myths from various cultures, racist pseudohistory, and far right conspiracy theories. To put it very briefly, starseeds are supposedly here to help Earth resist the reptilians, a race of politics-manipulating, war-starting, media-controlling blood-drinking aliens. For those who don't recognize the tropes here, these are basically all antisemitic canards. The reptilian alien myth as most know it today comes from David Icke, who ultimately cribbed a bunch of his material from The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, a Russian hoax created to justify violence against Jews. He was also influenced by the work of people like Fritz Springmeier, a hateful crank who based much of his work on other hateful cranks.

(David Icke, by the way, also claims that transgender is an evil reptilian conspiracy. You'll never find just one form of bigotry with these people.)

There are supposedly numerous alien races out there, and one of the most prominent among them are the Pleiadians, AKA Nordics. While modern depictions of the Pleiadians give them more variety in skintone, there's no denying that older Pleiadian mythology basically pictured them as Aryans In Space, even associating them with the swastika.

You see what's going on here? "Good" swastika-loving Aryan aliens versus "evil" Jewish aliens? Sound familiar?

Racism isn't just a tangential part of the starseed myth, either. It lies at its very core. It's inextricably tied in with the ancient astronaut hypothesis, which has a history of racist motivation behind it. The TL;DR is that a bunch of white people couldn't believe that non-white people had built a bunch of things they couldn't figure out how to build themselves (EG, the Great Pyramids), so they proposed that the real builders were anyone from Atlanteans to aliens. (Atlantis, by the way, never existed; it was a literary device created by Plato.)

One supposed purpose of starseeds is to help the world "wake up to the truth," which basically just means "convert people to New Age spirituality." New Age believes that world peace is contingent on a majority of the world being converted to New Age belief, and that resistance against their belief system is ultimately the work of the aforementioned reptilian aliens.

To put it another way, New Agers think they understand other cultures' spiritual traditions better than the actual members of said cultures, and think that anyone who disagrees with them is being manipulated by the conspiracy, or is an agent of the conspiracy. This includes Indigenous cultures which are already endangered from white Christian colonialism.

Essentially, endangered cultures cannot speak up for themselves and resist New Agers' efforts at cultural assimilation without being labeled a problem and an enemy. It's basically white Christian colonialism repackaged as "spiritual, not religious."

Again - if you heard from these people that some ancient text or myth describes extraterrestrial beings visiting our planet for one reason or another, you heard misinformation. They twist and misrepresent literally every myth and text they get their hands on. For example, you may have heard that the vimanas from Hindu traditions were actually alien spacecraft. They were no such thing. Or maybe you heard that the Book of Enoch describes aliens performing genetic experimentation on humans. It literally does not. At best, all of the stories they cite just kind of sound like aliens if you ignore most of their content and pay no attention to their cultural contexts.

The starseed movement preys on alienated people, especially autistic people and people with ADHD. You can look up nearly any list of signs that you're supposedly a starseed, and many of them will align perfectly with characteristics associated with autism and/or ADHD, or that people with these conditions commonly report. Some people within the movement even go so far as to claim that ADHD and autism don't even exist, but were actually made up by the conspiracy as a cover to suppress and control starseeds, which is some yikes-as-hell ableism.

So basically, people are being told that if they have these certain characteristics or symptoms, that means it's their job to spread New Age spirituality to defeat the conspiracy and help others ascend to the fifth density.

And what's the fifth density, you might ask? It's supposedly humanity's next evolutionary level, because New Age is also based on biological misconceptions. Supposedly once everyone's DNA "upgrades," they'll essentially morph into an aetheric form. Supposedly, this is preceded by a number of "ascension symptoms," including depression, headache, gastrointestinal issues, and any number of other symptoms that could indicate almost anything, including stress.

What many of these people don't realize is, this prediction has already failed. Back in the 2000s and 2010s, experiencing "ascension symptoms" was supposed to precede ascension to 5D beginning December 21, 2012. One lady, Denise Le Fay, was convinced that the hair loss she was experiencing in 2008 was an ascension symptom. As we can see by looking her up, she's very much still with us on the 3D plane these days, repeating the same tired old scripts New Agers recycle endlessly.

By the way, everything you near New Agers saying today about old systems being dismantled, dark forces being arrested or kicked off the planet, and new economic systems on the horizon? They've been recycling these scripts for years now. Take a look at this page written back in 2012. You got stuff about the complete dismantling of an enormous network of sinister forces," "the arrest and removal of a world-wide cabal," and a "new economic system."

("Cabal," by the way, is a dogwhistle term for "Jews.")

Furthermore, people in this movement are often encouraged to try and access past life memories through dreams or hypnosis, which makes the whole thing feel even more real to them. But the thing is, you can have incredibly vivid experiences about literally anything you put your mind to - the people in the reality shifting having vivid experiences of living another life in the Harry Potter universe are a great example of this. Just because you have vivid experiences, doesn't mean they have any bearing on anything happening in this reality.

So yeah, the starseed movement and the larger New Age movement are both extremely harmful. They promote racist pseudohistory, medically-irresponsible pseudoscience, conspiracy theories that target numerous marginalized groups, and functionally target aliened people with ADHD and autism to convince them that spreading its beliefs is their job.

[steddie-island]

Mutually Beneficial

After seeing this art by @2jihiir0, inspiration struck and I wrote a thing. This isn't what I usually write, I hope I did your art justice and that you like it as much as Steve likes Eddie being a little mean. 😅 Words: 1,237 | Rating: E | Tags: Age gap (Older Eddie Munson, Younger Steve Harrington), Mean dom Eddie, Choking, Possessive Eddie Munson, Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington See ao3 for full list of tags

“Oh my god –”

It had started innocently enough, with Steve getting kicked out as soon as he’d graduated and with Eddie Munson, town outcast, advertising a room for rent and a kid who needed a sitter. Moving in would be mutually beneficial. 

"Eddie, please–”

The trailer was different from what Steve was used to. The water heater was always on the fritz, it leaked when it rained, and sometimes it smelled like weed and whiskey, but the rent was cheap, his bed was comfortable, and Eddie’s kid was an angel. The sweetest little girl with big brown eyes and a head full of curls that matched her daddy’s. Steve loved her, loved watching Eddie with her and seeing how his whole demeanor changed when she was awake. He was a Doberman and she was the person he would cut the world down at the knees for. He looked at her so fucking tenderly. 

Sometimes Steve caught Eddie looking at him like that, all soft and tender. When he was feeding Rhiannon, or when Eddie would come back from a business deal (Steve wasn’t stupid, he had his suspicions about what went on but he wouldn’t ask. He just knew Eddie left with an empty wallet and returned with a big wad of cash) to find the two of them reading on the couch together. 

Eddie’s eyes didn’t stay soft like that when it was just the two of them. When they were alone his gaze would go almost sharklike as he sat back against the couch and watched every move Steve made.

Steve would catch him, would flush hot from head to toe. And maybe someone else would’ve seen it as a red flag, as a caution sign, but Steve had never been very good at listening to the warning labels.

It came to a head one night while Steve was cleaning up the kitchen after Rhiannon had been put to bed. He didn’t have to catch Eddie to know those dark eyes were on him, he could feel it like a physical pressure between his shoulder blades. And then it wasn’t just those eyes he could feel. It was big hands on his slim hips, Eddie’s chest against his back.

“You’re a pretty thing when you get all pink and shy,” Eddie had murmured. He smelled like the whiskey he’d been sipping since before dinner. “I keep wondering how far down your blush goes…” 

Steve’s knees had nearly given out as Eddie’s fingers slipped under his t-shirt, then down beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms. “I got a feeling it goes all… the way… down.” His hand, so rough and big and hot , wrapped around Steve’s dick, made him whimper with how tight his grip was.

A kiss was pressed to his throat while Eddie’s thumbnail caught at his slit, making his hips jerk. 

“Pretty thing, why don’t you let me find out for myself, hmm? You take care of me… and I’ll take care of you.” As if to prove his point, Eddie had hit his knees. He’d bent Steve over the counter, had licked him long and deep and made him come twice with his mouth and his fingers, all before Eddie’s dick was ever inside of him.

Really, how was Steve supposed to argue with that?

“Use your words, sweet boy,” Eddie murmured. He was sitting with his arms spread across the back of the couch. His pants were open, his tanktop rucked up to show off the tattoos over his stomach.

And Steve was fucking himself down onto that thick cock. 

“Please– oh god, please –”

“You said that already. Please what, baby?” Eddie threaded his fingers into Steve’s hair, tugged in a way that made Steve whimper and his dick twitch against his belly. “I told you we have to make it quick. Can’t make it quick if you don’t use your words and ask for what you need, huh?”

Steve bit down another sound as he tried to lean forward, to get his mouth on Eddie’s. “Touch me,” he begged. Just having Eddie inside of him wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough and Eddie knew that. “Don’t be mean–” “Angel, we both know you like it when I’m a little mean.” Eddie’s hand slipped down to Steve’s shoulder blade, to one of the deep bruises he’d left as he’d pounded Steve into the mattress the night before. “Don’t you?” “Ed–” Steve gasped as Eddie’s hand dropped down from his back and between his asscheeks. He was loose, open, had already taken Eddie twice that morning, too, and had the mess left in his underwear as proof. It was so easy for Eddie to shift just a little and have a finger sliding in right alongside his cock. “That what you wanted, pretty thing?” Eddie snapped his hips up once and Steve had to catch himself against Eddie’s chest. “God, look at you. So fucking greedy. So desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes–” Steve was sobbing. He felt rattled, exposed, stretched so fucking wide in a way that only Eddie had ever done to him. “Please– more–” Eddie’s other hand was on his throat then, squeezing until Steve could barely get a sound out, until his eyes were rolling into the back of his head from how goddamn overwhelming this was. “I told you to be quiet, didn’t I?” Teeth dragged over Steve’s jaw, down below his ear. “It’s like you want the whole world to hear what I’m doin’ to you, like you want them to know how much you like being a slut for me, huh? How much you like being mine ?” Steve could only nod and rock that much harder. Too much, too fucking much and yet not enough to push him over the edge– Eddie slipped a second finger inside and drove up hard again, again, steady thrusts that hit his prostate and had sparks going off in Steve’s brain. He could only sit there and take it, take everything this beautiful monster of a man wanted to give him and then some.

“Are you gonna be quiet if I let go?” Eddie asked. “Are you gonna be my good boy?” Steve nodded. Eddie’s fingers loosened. And with a stifled, broken cry, Steve arched his back as his orgasm rushed through him so hard it almost fucking hurt. Eddie’s fingers were out of his body, a hand was in his hair to guide his face into Eddie’s neck. He smelled like sweat and whiskey, and being pressed there muffled the noises Steve made as Eddie fucked into him roughly again. 

Eddie barely made a sound as he spilled into Steve’s body for the third time. 

They sat there, letting sweat and tears and come dry on their skin, until Steve had stopped shaking and could formulate a full sentence. Eddie would kiss him, tell him how sweet he was before he found Steve’s underwear and track shorts where they’d been thrown aside. When Steve’s legs regained feeling he would get his clothes on. 

Eddie would tuck his cock away. 

And before Steve was allowed to settle back down with his legs in Eddie’s lap, two more tally marks would have to be added to their ongoing count. One, in pencil, to the wallpaper behind the couch. And one in permanent marker to the inside of Steve’s thigh.

A brand for the two of them– for Eddie – to see. 

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 16

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: *Deep inhale, deeper exhale* Okay. You ready? 

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Blood and peril, violence, angst, and yet another cliffhanger. (Last one, I promise!) 

Part 16: Soldier Boy

You fled with Jon, Frank, and Loco to escape the bowels of Vought Tower. 

You all were lucky that the Security & Surveillance room hadn’t been caught in the blast, but on the monitors you had seen it carve through the center of the building like a beam of light. 

You could freak out about that later though. Now you were in flight mode, just trying to survive and evade falling debris and unsteady ground. 

Frank kicked through a locked door on the way to the nearest stairwell. You and Jon made it through, but a huge chunk of debris fell, cutting Loco off from the rest of you. 

You gasped and went to the doorway, trying to see if you could help push it out of the way. But more of the ceiling was still falling and threatened to crush you. Frank pulled you back, even though you knew he was worried too.

“Just go!” Loco said. “I’ll find another way out.”

“Head east,” Jon said. “There’s another stairwell by Human Resources.”

“Vought HR. What a fucking joke,” you couldn’t help but quip. But after Loco took off, you grabbed Frank’s arm and headed down the hall. You could see the “EXIT” sign up ahead. It led to a gray door, where several people were fleeing down the stairs. 

Including Dr. Tonya Baker and three of her guards. 

You and Frank stopped her before the door with your guns raised. Frank killed each guard with precision, while you kept your gun aimed on the good doctor. She raised her hand in wide-eyed surrender, but her other hand held a briefcase. You gestured to it with your gun.

“What’s that? Open it up,” you said. When the doctor hesitated, you pointed the gun back in her face. “Now.”

Gritting her teeth, she obliged you by entering the code that would unlock the briefcase. Jon took it from her and showed you its contents.

There were several files and blue vials of what you assumed were Compound V. However, you noticed three small white containers that weren’t like the rest. They were labeled: Soldier Boy. 

“What are these?” you asked. Dr. Baker was tight-lipped, until you pressed the gun between her eyes. 

“DNA samples,” she answered reluctantly. Your face fell, then hardened into a glare. 

“Well, fuck that,” you said.

With your gun trained on the doctor, you grabbed a glass container and smashed it to the ground, making her flinch. Stale-smelling yellow liquid splattered on the floor, and you realized then what kind of “sample” it must’ve been. Jon grimaced; some of it had splashed onto his shoes.

“Thank you,” he groused. 

“Oh, I’m not done,” you said. And you did the same to the last two containers. You took the briefcase from your father and gave it to Frank. “Take this and Madam Fritz here to the S.A.”

“What are you about to do?” Frank asked, though he took the briefcase from you (and laid a firm hand on Dr. Baker’s shoulder). “I don’t like that damn look in your eye.”

You turned to the scientist. “Did you see anyone else still in the building?”

“A few,” she admitted. “Mostly in the lower floors. Admin, Customer Service, R&D.”

Your eyes flew wide in alarm. Yvette, your friend who worked in Customer Service. She could be trapped down there…

Jon turned to you with a frown. “The only way they’re getting out is when the Fire Department comes to collect the bodies.”

You glared back and raised your gun at him next. 

“Guess who’s going to help me get them out?” You glanced at Frank, who didn’t look pleased. “Don’t make that face. I’ll be fine.”

“The tower’s literally falling apart as we speak!” Jon exclaimed. He tried to push your gun away from his face, but you held it aloft. 

“Move your ass or catch a bullet,” you snapped. “We’re going to Customer Service first.”

Ben continued to fight Black Noir.

He still wanted to cave in Stan Edgar’s skull, and it had the added benefit of giving Butcher and his team the cover they needed to try and escape the tower. That wasn’t in his mind though. He was focused on his two targets. 

He’d grabbed a discarded gun from the floor when he’d gotten back up to his feet. He now used it to shoot Stan in the leg, to stop him from fleeing. The man cried out and went down hard on the newly installed tile. 

Ben raised the gun again to shoot him between the eyes, but Noir stopped him. He grabbed Ben’s arm and hurled him over his shoulder. He landed in the broken shambles of Stan’s desk, and the impact further destabilized the top floor of the building. 

Parts of the ceiling had already begun to break off, and Stan noticed. He tried to drag himself towards the door while Soldier Boy was distracted. Blood trailed after his bleeding leg, but he was determined, fighting for his life. 

In fact, he almost made it. 

But just when he was a mere three feet from the door, a massive panel of the ceiling (along with a silver light fixture), crashed down over him. If the concrete hadn’t crushed his bones, the ceiling light would’ve impaled him—right through his chest. 

Ben watched the scene from where he half-lay on the ground in the rubble. His eyes marginally widened, but then his mouth quirked in satisfaction. One down…

His hand closed over a metal rod, yanking it from a piece of rock and wood, and he got to his feet. When Noir flew at him again, Ben lodged the metal rod deep into his exposed ear. If it had worked for Maeve on Homelander, he’d figured it could work on Noir.

And it did. The supe remained mute, expressionless, but the projectile lodged into his ear canal still made him wince. He clawed at it with shaking hands, trying to get it out. Ben didn’t give him a chance—he drop-kicked the other supe into the large glass window.

They’d given this clone Homelander’s strength, but forgot to give him flight, it seemed. Because the supe fell and kept falling off the side of the tower. 

Ben stood there in the center of the destroyed room. 

He panted for breath, only then did he notice his own fatigue. His limbs felt heavy, and it nearly buckled his knees. He forced himself to stay upright. Ben would never admit it, but whatever that gun had blasted him with, it did a number on him. 

Ignoring how his hand shook, he raised it to his ear. 

“Stan Edgar’s dead,” he said. “So is Noir, probably. I’m headed down.”

Hughie helped Butcher to the van in the garage, but he stopped short. An ex-military-looking guy was walking toward him with a briefcase in hand, and leading a doctor in a lab coat with the other. 

“It’s you!” M.M. recognized him with a sharpening gaze. “From the airport. You’re one of Soldier Boy’s men.”

Frank gave the doctor over to M.M., informing them that you had asked him to put Dr. Baker into custody. At the mention of your name, Annie’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God, she’s still in there!” she said. She turned on her comm and called your name. “Where the hell are you?”

“Uh…little busy at the moment,” you replied. 

Predictably, Soldier Boy got on the line next. 

“What? Where the fuck are you?”

Annie grimaced at the man’s tone. But she marveled, because she could hear the depths of his worry for you.

“Still in the tower. Some people are trapped on the second floor,” you replied. Soldier Boy’s growl of frustration came through. 

“Where are you exactly?” he demanded.

“Admin department, second floor,” you told Ben. You were prying open the door to the former when the ground beneath your feet trembled. “Oh shit!”

You needed both hands to stabilize yourself against the wall, but it was Jon who helped you stay upright. And he finished what you started, wrenching open the door and letting out a crowd of desperate people clamoring to get out. 

Once most of them passed, you and Jon slipped inside the large Administration office. Inside were various cubicles, conference rooms, and internal offices, one of which was Customer Service. That was your goal as you jogged through the halls. Jon fell into step with you.

“Look,” Jon began. “Everything I did—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you said sharply. “I don’t have time for a meaningless heart-to-heart with you.”

You called out for Yvette, or anyone still trapped inside one of the offices. You heard a distant voice respond, and you followed it. You were led all the way to the end of the hall, where a chunk of debris had fallen outside of a glass office door. Inside was a group of about ten people.

“Okay, hold on!” you told them. “Stand back from the door.”

You and your father worked to clear the debris. But he looked up at you with something you’d never seen before in his eyes, though you refused to acknowledge it now. 

“When I came back from Vietnam, I saw what this country had become. How these asshole supes had taken over the goddamn world,” Jon said, though it was labored between bouts of lifting. 

He briefly grasped at his chest in pain. And you remembered then that Ben had broken at least his arm and collarbone. He even wore a cast on his forearm, which you finally noticed beneath his jacket sleeve. 

“You were different from your sister. Even at a young age, I saw that spark of fire in you. Hardheaded, even at the best of times,” he said, with a flicker of a smile. “I just wanted to make sure you were strong enough to handle this snake pit of a fucking world.”

He paused to look up at you. “But you were strong in spite of me.”

You had to stop and catch your breath. As his words registered, tears began to burn in your eyes. But you refused to let them fall. Nor did you respond.

Once the doorway was clear, you were able to open the door and let the people out. The last of them was Yvette, and her son Devon.

“Oh my God,” she gasped when she saw you. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes as she pulled you into a hug, and you returned it. 

“Are you okay?” you asked in relief. She tried and failed at a smile. Still weeping, she took her eight-year-old son’s hand and guided him out along with her. 

“Well, now we are. What are you doing here?”

“I’ll explain later. Come on,” you said. You flashed Devon a smile and reached out your hand. “Hey, Devon. Let’s go, buddy.”

He was crying, but he nodded and grabbed your hand too. 

“He had a stomachache,” Yvette whispered to you. “I pulled him out of school early. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay, we’re getting out,” you told her. Jon brought up the rear to make sure you all made it out of the office unit safely. 

You made it down to the gift shop on the first floor, but a small crowd had formed at the back exit to the garage—which by now, was the only safe route out of the tower. The lobby was completely destroyed. 

The problem was, the garage exit was now blocked by debris as well.

“All right,” Jon sighed. “There’s another way, through the custodian entrance—”

Three shots rang out. You ducked and took Yvette with you, but you choked on a gasp when you looked back…

Jon had a gloved fist punched through his chest cavity. 

You watched with wide eyes as Black Noir revoked his arm from your father’s body with a wet, horrific sound. You gasped when Jon fell to his knees.

But to your shock, the supe glanced right past you, Yvette, and Devon. His pale gray eyes focused on only the men in the room. He then strode forward and began picking them off one by one.

You shakily pointed out a large aisle of A-Train merchandise for your friend to hide behind. Yvette pulled her son in that direction, while you went to your father where he laid on the ground. 

With difficulty, you rolled him onto his back. You then laid a hand on his shoulder, while the other hovered over his chest. Blood pooled through the gaping chasm in his Vought-issued black jacket. 

Your lower lip trembled, and you realized then that you were crying as he struggled for breath. Even after everything he’d done to you—to your family—it still hurt you to see him like this…to know that he was dying. 

And there was no time. Not to save him, or for resolution…

“Dad,” you tried, but he stopped you. His brows were furrowed with pain, but he gripped your wrist tight. 

“Run,” he said. He held on for a moment or two longer, but when the light faded from his eyes, you closed yours. 

You struggled against a sob. His grip eased from your wrist, and you laid his hand to rest on the ground. 

Protect yourself, your sister’s voice reminded you. You couldn’t stay out in the open like this. Black Noir had finished with the men, and now was starting in on the rest of the survivors. It seemed that without a handler, the clone had no orders to fulfill except his own. 

With a ragged breath, you retrieved the gun from your belt and had to leave your father behind. 

You joined Yvette and Devon behind the A-Train aisle and warned them with a finger over your lips to stay quiet. You pressed a shaking finger to the comm in your ear. 

“Ben, where are you?” you asked. Maybe he heard the tremor in your voice, because you certainly read the concern in his.

“You’re not on the second floor. Where are you?”

You closed your eyes for a beat. “On the first floor. The garage is blocked and Noir has us bottlenecked.”

“I’m almost there. Just stay put,” Ben said. His tone was firm, and it reassured you. You nodded, despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. 

“Yeah, not going anywhere in a hurry,” you whispered.

You could hear the agonized screams of people dying in the room, but you knew you couldn’t do anything about it. Tears slipped down your cheeks as you looked back at your father’s body on the cold ground. But with a determined breath, you looked at Yvette and Devon, who were clearly terrified. 

You cocked your gun and nodded at them to move forward down the aisle, but to stay low to the ground. The custodian entrance was on the first floor, but it was in the east wing of the tower. You were in the west wing. The only feasible way out was through the blocked garage exit, just up ahead. 

But so was Black Noir. The only thing you could do was stay alive long enough for Ben to find you. Because there was no way you could exit the room the way you came without Noir spotting you. 

Fuck. This wasn’t going to be easy. And all the while, the tower could come crashing down at any moment. The tremors in the walls and in the ground were increasing with every minute as pieces of the floor above continued to fall. 

A nightmare, for which you’d surely need copious amounts of therapy, if you survived this. 

No sooner had that thought filtered through your mind, when a katana flashed above your head, decapitating a cardboard cutout of The Deep. Yvette and Devon yelped in fright, but you grabbed them and shoved them forward into a sprint down the aisle with your head bowed. 

Bullets ripped after you, into the ground and the rows of merch. You turned a corner and stopped behind a large metal shelf lined with Queen Maeve plushies. 

But the three of you screamed when the katana ripped through the shelf, and one of the unfortunate plushies. 

You all stumbled into the open, where Noir soon found you. He raised his katana level with your face, and your eyes grew wide. But before the blade could slice into you, Noir was yanked back and thrown across the room, into the far wall with a heavy impact. He recovered, of course, but he paused.

Because Soldier Boy now stood between him and his targets. 

You looked up at Ben with relieved tears in your eyes—both for him saving your life, and just at the sight of him. He mostly looked all right, if a bit worse for wear. You knew you were much the same, dusty, bruised, and tearful. 

He flashed you a quirk of a smile. 

“Go, get out of here,” he said. 

“We can’t,” you started to say, but an explosion behind you made you flinch. You turned to see that the debris covering the garage exit had been cleared. It its place was M.M., Annie, Kimiko, and Frenchie, the latter waving a spare stick of dynamite. You smirked, even though your eyes glittered with unshed tears. 

“Okay, let’s go!” You reached for Devon and helped Yvette pick him up.

However, the dynamite blast had ruined what small semblance of stability was left in the ground floor. The ceiling began to fall—first near the exit, then right behind you, cutting you off from Ben. You gasped, but you didn’t have time to call out to him. 

And you heard M.M. and Annie calling out to you. All you could do was push Yvette forward, then drag her back when a massive chunk of concrete nearly fell on her and her son. 

But that’s when you lost your footing, and your balance, tipping backwards with a halting shriek.

You were trapped. Ben knew it the moment the wall of debris cut you off from him. He heard your voice, your scream, but he knew he couldn’t help you until he finished off Noir, for the last time. 

“All right, Earving. Let’s make this quick,” Ben said. “I don’t know if there’s any part of you left in there, but this would be a good fucking time to come out with some last words.”

The gray-eyed supe just stared back at him. His katana was drawn, and he slowly slid back into a crouched stance. Ben’s body tensed as well. The effects of Noir’s gun were still making his hands shake, but Ben clenched them into fists. He couldn’t afford weakness right now. 

So when Noir ran forward, Ben waited for the supe to come to him. He dodged the swipe of the blade, and threw out smart punches and combinations that started to push Noir back.

The blade came down again, but Ben blocked it with his shield. It cut through the top of it. But Ben used the momentary pause to kick Noir straight in the chest. He tore the blade from his shield and threw it away. Then he tossed his shield like a fatal frisbee. 

The supe narrowly dodged it, but he couldn’t escape Ben grappling him to the ground. He put all his energy into lighting the nuclear fuse in his chest. 

It was hard to keep it steady after the destabilizing gun, but no matter how Noir thrashed, Ben squeezed around his neck with all his might to keep him pinned. With a ragged yell, a flash of power escaped him. It fried through Noir’s suit, though it only lightly burned his skin. 

When the power ran its course, Noir lost his strength. The clone was now powerless. 

Ben grabbed a knife from the other supe’s belt, and he was able to break skin, stabbing into the center of the man’s chest. He didn’t let go until the clone’s gray eyes were truly lifeless.

Ben drew in ragged breaths. Gathering his strength, he pushed off of Noir and managed, with difficulty, back onto his feet. He felt satisfied, but maybe there was a bitter tinge to it. This thing had been created with Homelander’s DNA, and ultimately, Homelander had been a product of Soldier Boy.

Of Ben himself. 

He knew it wasn’t his fault. That lay dead with Stan. But Ben knew that he’d wasted a lot of time. For all his bravado, he had let himself be manipulated and controlled. For fame and money and women, and everything else that came with that.  

“Soldier Boy! Are you there?” he heard your friend call out. It broke him out of the haze of his exhaustion. He shook his head sharply to focus. 

He called back for you, nearing the wall of debris, but you didn’t answer. He was able to break some of it away, enough that he was finally able to see Yvette’s worried face. 

“Where is she?” he asked. A coil of dread stirred in the pit of his stomach. 

“She’s hurt,” said Yvette. 

The coil tightened, as did Ben’s jaw. 

“All right, stand back,” he ordered. He grabbed his discarded shield and held it aloft. 

“Okay, go ahead!” she said. 

He used his shield like a battering ram to get through the pile of wood and concrete. It loosened even more of the trembling ceiling and plunged the entire clearing with dust. Ben waved a hand through it, coughing as he stepped inside. He found Yvette and her son, but his eyes were drawn to you.

You’d fallen on your back, and a slab of concrete was pinning your leg. He moved it with a grunt, and it fell to the ground with a heavy impact. He examined your leg next; he was no doctor, but he could assume it was probably broken under the weight of concrete. 

Okay. Doctors could fix a fucking leg, he reasoned. He was more concerned about your head. Had you hit it on the way down, or had you smacked it on the hard tile when you landed?

Your hair was loose, and he slid careful fingers through it. He felt a small knot forming behind your head. He touched your pale cheek…

And then he saw it. 

You weren’t lying entirely on the ground. You’d fallen on a small pile of rubble, and sticking out an inch below your shoulder was a thick piece of rebar.

Fuck, he thought. Your pulse at your neck was still beating under the pads of his fingers. 

But then, he paused. He was starting to hear something, a deeper tremor than the occasional rubble falling from the ceiling. 

“Are you guys okay?” M.M. called. With all the debris, he couldn’t quite get to you all. But maybe he could find a hole underneath the rubble to squeeze you out of. 

“The tower’s coming down!” Ben barked. 

“Yeah, that’s why we need to get the fuck out of here,” M.M. replied.

“No, the whole fucking thing. It’s coming down now!” Ben said. Yvette grabbed her son and huddled closer to you and Ben. He quickly stood and surveyed his surroundings in search of a larger shield. 

The only thing in reach was a large metal shelf. It would have to do. 

He grabbed it and ran back to you, just in time for the world to start falling. 

Ben blinked dust and plaster out of his eyes and coughed it out of his mouth. He was holding God knew how much of the tower on his back. The metal groves of the shelf were digging into his spine and between his shoulder blades. 

When his vision cleared, he saw that Yvette was knocked out, bleeding from a cut on her temple. Maybe a stray rock had hit her. 

Her son seemed all right though, if covered in dust. 

“You okay, kid?” Ben asked. He nodded shakily, his eyes wide like he couldn’t believe he was still alive. Ben could understand that.

However, you were the one he was worried about. He called your name, but you didn’t respond. Ben looked up at the kid. 

“Shake her a little, would ya? Not hard.”

The kid nodded, biting his lip. He gently shook your arm, calling your name. Eventually you coughed and opened your eyes on a moan of pain. Ben let out a short, relieved breath.

“Hey…how you doin’?”

“Hurts to breathe,” you admitted, coughing up more dust. But you cried out when trying to get up disturbed your shoulder. “What…?”

“Don’t move,” he warned you. “You’re uh…you’re pinned down.” 

With trembling lips, you turned your head and saw what held you—the rebar protruding just beneath your shoulder. You let out a ragged breath. 

An inch lower and it would’ve been your heart. 

The problem was, you were sure you would bleed out anyway the moment you were freed from the rebar. 

“Don’t look at it,” Ben said firmly. “Look at me.”

You blinked up at him with watery eyes. You finally realized that he was kneeling, holding up a massive shelf to cover all four of you. 

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” you asked. A tear streamed down the side of your face. 

Ben nodded. Really, it was taking all the strength he had left to hold up this piece of shit, but he wasn’t about to let you know that. 

“I can do this all fucking day,” he said with a smirk. “But maybe check in with your friends so we can get the hell out of here.”

Letting out another shaky breath, you raised the hand opposite to your pinned shoulder and pressed a finger to the comm in your ear. 

“Are you guys still there? Did anyone make it out?” you asked.

For a moment, it was silent. You looked over at Devon, who was quietly crying. You reached out your free hand to him, even if it made more blood weep from your shoulder. He grabbed your hand, and you gave his a comforting squeeze. 

“It’s okay, Dev. We’re getting out soon,” you tried to sooth him. Devon nodded and squeezed your hand back. 

Ben watched the exchange with interest. You seemed to have a good way with kids…

“Hello?” you repeated into the comm. Your voice was weak and raspy, even to your own ears. You released your shaking hand back to the ground. “No one’s answering…where’s Yvette?”

“Knocked out for a bit, but she looks fine,” said Ben, nodding to where your friend was lying on the ground. 

Though he realized he was starting to lose you when your eyes closed. 

“Hey,” he barked. “Stay with me.”

The near shout forced you to open your eyes, but they were already starting to droop. Ben finally noticed the blood slipping away from you, starting to pool beneath your arm. 

“I’m awake, just resting my eyes,” you said. Not very convincing. 

Ben experimentally lowered an arm from supporting the shelf. He moved slow, and he heard shifting rubble above him, but he managed to balance the shelf on just his back. He grit his teeth at the strain.

Even for him, the weight was immense. He didn’t know how long they could wait for someone to get to them. But he could see the kid was frozen with fear.

“You’re gonna be fine, all right?” Ben said.

The kid was tearful, but he nodded.

“What’s your name?” Ben asked.

“Devon.”

“All right, Devon. You know who I am?”

“…Soldier Boy,” the kid replied in a small voice. His large brown eyes were filled with tears as he sniffed. His short hair and dark tan skin were covered with dust, so Ben could see the path of his tears down his cheeks and neck. He gave Devon an attempt at a smile and nodded. 

“That’s right.”

Finally, some of the debris near Yvette cleared a small hole above the ground, revealing Kimiko. Her eyes widened with excitement, her mouth falling open in a quiet gasp. She smiled and ducked her head back out. Ben frowned in confusion as he heard the French guy and some of the others babbling. 

“Hello?” he snapped. “The fuck is going on out there?” 

M.M. peered in next and took in the four of you with relief. He met Ben’s gaze.

“They’ll need a stretcher,” Ben said, gesturing at you and Yvette. “And a medic.”

“Okay, we’re gonna see if we can open this hole a bit wider,” M.M. said. He frowned at the narrow space inside. “It’s gonna be hard to get a stretcher in here.”

“Just get it done,” Ben said, beginning to lose his patience. He was carrying the tower on his back, and you were fading before his eyes. 

M.M. nodded and was gone. But he returned soon after with Kimiko, and both worked together to open the hold wider without dislodging more debris. Once they had a big enough hole, M.M. peered in.

“Okay, who’s first?”

“She is,” Ben said, nodding down at you. “Bring the stretcher.”

Once again, M.M. disappeared.

Ben looked over at Devon. 

“She’s hurt bad. We’re going to get her out first,” Ben said, gesturing at you. “I’m going to need you to hold her down, by her shoulders. After I take out the rebar, you’re going to put pressure on the wound. Got it?”

Devon looked unsure. 

“Got it?” Ben repeated. More tears slid down the boy’s cheeks as he shook his head.

“Listen, you little sh—” Ben started to snap in irritation.

But at the last moment, he stopped himself. He remembered how you were with the kid earlier, tried to think of what you might say right about now. 

“Uh, you can do this,” he said, gruff and a bit awkward. 

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Devon said in a small voice. 

At that, annoyance slowly drained out of Ben. He reached out and grasped the kid’s shoulder, firm, but gentle.

“You won’t. You’re going to help her,” he said. “Just hold her down, and I’ll do the rest. All right?”

He hesitated, but Devon nodded and wiped his face dry. 

“Good man,” Ben nodded. “Now come on, over here.”

Devon moved so that he was behind you, holding your shoulders down.

You grimaced and made a sound of pain. But Ben was quick; he braced your shoulder with one hand and slid the rebar out with the other. He forced himself to remain stoic at your resulting screech of agony. 

But Devon couldn’t. His tears came down anew, and he immediately released your shoulders. Ben moved you more fully onto the ground and instructed Devon to put pressure on the wound, leaning his body weight into it. 

“Stay awake,” Ben warned you. He knew you were having a hard time, and tears streamed from the corners of your eyes, onto the ground below. You forced your eyes to open, so you could look up at him.

“Ben,” you tried, but if this was going to be an if I die speech, then he didn’t want to fucking hear it.

“Don’t talk,” he said sternly. “Just keep breathing.”

“Listen,” you insisted. With difficulty, you grabbed onto the metal embellishments on his suit, finding purchase on his chest. 

“You are strong. You can do anything you want, you know,” you said, smiling wryly. “Including, being a better man.” 

Ben looked down at you with knitted brows. Sweat slipped down his forehead, but he didn’t know what to say to you. 

Until you let go of his suit, and your eyes started to close. 

“Fuck. Stay awake, damn it!” he snapped. It was an effort, but you opened your eyes. 

Then Yvette started to rouse, raising a hand to her aching head. 

“Oh, thanks for joining us,” Ben remarked, unable to disguise most of his snark. Devon helped her sit properly. 

When she saw you, paler than ever, she gasped and took over putting pressure on your wound. 

M.M. then finally returned with the stretcher. He beckoned Devon out first.

“Come on, little man.”

Ben opened his mouth to snap a protest, but M.M. shook his head. 

“It’s too narrow. They need to come out first to make room.”

Devon eyed the jagged concrete around the hole they’d created. He seemed scared to attempt taking M.M.’s hand to leave. 

He looked back at Yvette, who encouraged him forward. But he also looked over at Ben. 

He was frankly surprised the kid was looking to him for reassurance. Again, he thought of what you’d said to Devon earlier. 

“It’s okay,” Ben said. “You’re going home today. Trust me, son.” 

Devon stared at his face for a moment, and nodded tearfully. 

When M.M. was eventually able to take the boy’s hand, he met Ben’s gaze, which was mostly covered by stoicism. 

Devon made it out of the cave, followed by Yvette. While she climbed out, Ben took over putting pressure on your wound, even though it made the shelf creak. He grunted against the pressure on his back. 

Then M.M. finally slipped in the stretcher. Ben roused you by tapping on your cheek. He accidentally left a smudge of your own blood there.

“Come on, baby doll. Work with me here,” he muttered. You whimpered in response.  

You were so pale, but you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You’re a fighter, Ben reminded himself, as he helped M.M. maneuver you onto the stretcher.

“See you later, sweetheart,” he said.

“Wait,” you croaked. “Wait…how’re you getting out?” 

Ben quirked a smile. 

“I’m right behind you.” But he then glared up at M.M. “Hurry the fuck up. She’s still bleeding out.”

M.M. shot him a dark look, but he ignored Ben in order to help you. After you were taken out on the stretcher, Annie called out to him. 

“The fire department’s about to come in with pressure bags, so you can drop the shelf,” she said.  

True to her word, Ben started to hear a sharp whirring—the sound of something inflating. 

But as soon as they started, the ground shook. 

And the walls once again began to collapse around him. 

AN: *cowers in the corner* Please don't hate me! I promise, you're going to like the ultimate outcome of the next chapter (despite the teaser lol).

But I would still love to hear your thoughts on this one! What did you think of Jon's ultimate fate? How did you like Ben literally holding up the Tower?

(And did you catch the small Captain America reference? 😏)

**Side note: I hope you all enjoyed "Love Actually"! It's a far cry from where we are right now in BMD world lol...

Next Time:

Part of him refused to believe it had gotten to this. 

And the reality, that this was his fault. He’d caused the blast that destroyed the tower. His fault he hadn’t gotten to you sooner.

“You are the reason I needed saving,” you’d told him once. 

You were right then, and it still held up now. 

So, no…he wouldn’t go in there, into your room. The truth was, he couldn’t. 

Keep Reading: PART 17

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann83 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @beautiful-life-coded @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

[carcassmuncher]

Name: Fritz or Carcass Muncher

Age: 18 (I label my nsft)

Interests: punk, metal, eating people, sex, candy, being drug free for the past 3 years, radical leftist ideology.

For DNI, just know I’m a punk with extreme/radical ideology and you might get called something not nice or some shit idfk.

[snowwhite-andtheknight]

Announcing: Obiyuki Week 2024

Welcome back one and all to our ninth annual Obiyuki Week! Our theme this year is:

Ballroom Dance

Each day will have a form of dance for a prompt, as well as a few themes that can be used to inspire works or continue existing ones. This ship week is open to all Obiyuki works, so even if a submission does not quite fit the day, please feel free to post and join in!

Day 1: Quadrille

Introduced in France around 1760, the Quadrille quickly became popular in 18th and 19th century ballrooms across Europe. It is performed by four couples in a square, with one couple at a time dancing while the other three rest. Although not performed in modern competitions, the quadrille late gave rise to other popular forms of dance, such as the waltz and American square dancing.

Themes: Change of Partners, Ensemble Piece, Meddling Matchmakers; White

Day 2: Foxtrot

Premiering in 1914, the Foxtrot was first danced to ragtime music before becoming the dance of choice for big bands from the late 1910s through the 1940s. Known for its elegant glide across the dance floor and quick steps, the foxtrot has since split into slow and quick versions-- also known as the quickstep

Themes: Compatibility, Banter, Swept Off Their Feet; Blue

Day 3: Paso Doble

Originating in Spain, the Paso Doble's dramatic steps are meant to imitate the movements of a bullfight, with the lead playing matador and the follow being either cape or bull. It is often known as the "man's dance," since it displays the lead position-- traditionally male-- to its best advantage.

Themes: Conflict, Obi POV, Vying For Dominance; Red

Day 4: Viennese Waltz

The first ballroom dance to be danced in closed position-- aka, partners hold each other while facing toward each other-- the Viennese Waltz caused a scandal when it was introduced in late 18th century ballrooms. It became fashionable during the Regency period, though it remained "riotous and indecent" as late 1825.

Themes: Scandal, Tradition, Falling in Love; Silver

Day 5: Rhumba

The slowest of the Latin dances performed in modern competition, the Rhumba was first danced in the streets of Cuba before gaining popularity in the early 20th century and becoming what is now known as Ballroom Rumba. Known for its sensual movements and emphasis on hips, it is both known as the "dance of love" and the "woman's dance" for showing off the skill of its follow.

Themes: Intimate, Shirayuki POV, Hips Don't Lie; Green

Day 6: Tango

Another dance tamed to the tastes of ballroom-goers, the Tango originated as an improvisational dance in the lower-class neighborhoods of Buenos Aires and was brought to the United States by immigrants in the early 20th century. It is characterized by drama and passion and precise footwork.

Themes: Passion, Close Quarters, Rivals-to-Lovers; Black

Day 7: West Coast Swing (Free Day)

Evolving from the Lindy Hop of the 1930s, West Coast Swing started as an adaptation of the dance to fit a more crowded dance floor, before gaining popularity as a style all its own in the 1960s. Meant to be improvisational and playful, it best showcases the connection between partners.

Themes: Improvising, Adventure, Friends-to-Lovers; Gold

Dates: September 22nd-28th Tag: #obiyukiweek24 

[Guidelines beneath cut]

Guidelines:

All work must be your own (eg. no plagiarizing other sources, tracing, pose stealing, AI art/writing etc)

The main pairing is Obi x Shirayuki

Must follow the day’s prompt, however loosely

Must be tagged #obiyukiweek24 within the first five tags

With Tumblr’s tagging system on the fritz, please also @ snowwhite-andtheknight in your entry

Please label with the day’s number!

All NSFWcontent must be tagged and under a Read More!

You may submit multiple entries for each day!

Be nice

Play hard

[niiikooooo]

05v2// Super Fighting Robot

[endlich-allein]

The book is really expensive but for those who can afford it !! It's a work of art 😍 @ till_lindemann_official

Art Book 𝘈𝘮 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘨 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘯

37 poems by Till Lindemann, illustrated with 15 bound original etchings by Bodo W. Klös. 68 pages handmade paper, thread binding and hardcover in large format. The book is housed in a decorative box (approx. 40 x 50 x 6 cm) with an additional, removable etching in a separate folder. The cassette and the portfolio are covered with dark linen. Each book contains a fragment of the original etching plates.

Another book in small format is inserted into a recess in the bottom of the cassette. The book entitled: „Lieber Fritz, nimm meine Hand“ contains unpublished verses that Till Lindemann wrote to his grandson in 2012 and illustrated himself.

The edition is limited to 99 numbered copies signed by the author and illustrator.

12 copies labelled e.a. I - XII will not go on sale.

To purchase a copy of the book, send an email to the following address: buy1of99@outlook.com

More Information: www.tlartbook.blogspot.com

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

What will you do when your cats pass on?

Weird question but kinda understandable!

They’re both pretty young and in relatively good health, so hopefully that won’t be happening for some time!! Under the cut for possible uncomfy post death pet talk

That being said the topic does get brought up kinda frequently. I talked about getting them mounted in some way. The Other Q was a bit uncomfortable with that idea(understandably so, taxidermy isn’t everyone’s cup of tea)

I think we settled on getting their skeletons mounted, or at least keeping their skulls in cool little displays

Idk Fritz and Salem are the first pets we got as a couple so they mean a lot to me. Fritz is basically as old as our relationship(born a month before) and he meowed and BEGGED for pets at the shelter despite being labeled as a high risk animal(he turned out to be very much not that lmao) so the little guy means a lot to me. We don’t have as special of a story as to how we got Salem, mostly just a neighbor was moving, it was still during covid so a lot of shelters weren’t accepting pets and asked us if we wanted a cat. He’s a very sweet little baby who loves cuddles and napping with you and likes to sit with us when it’s dinner time I’m just

They’re both sweethearts and I love them. They’re both special to me. It’ll be hard to see them go but I hope they’ll have enjoyed their time with us

But knowing them they’ll probably haunt our asses and nuzzle our toes from beyond the grave

[zibiscusloon]

Goofy kids who just wanna build a fort (would’ve preferred the outside to do so, but hey, if they must they’ll build it in the Pizzeria)

Susana “Susie” Franz / Chica the Chicken

-April 1, 1978-June 26, 1987 (9 years old), she/her, Mexican-American

-Born to a well off middle class family, Susie is the oldest of 3 children and her family’s pride and joy. She was a naturally creative child and often thought of as weird by her classmates due to her eccentric behavior.

-Very protective of her boys! (Gabe, Jeremy, & Fritz), she and Fritz are both rather bitey children and who have been sent to the principle’s office a great many times.

-Her dog’s name is Pepperoni! He had been a huge comfort for her growing up (he passed away a few days before her own death)

-Very skilled at arcade games, she tends to rub salt into the wounds of the other children who dare to try and overthrow her (to their own expense)

Jeremiah “Jeremy” Reynolds / Bonnie the Bunny

-December 12, 1978-June 26, 1987 (8 years old), he/him, Taiwanese-American

-Grew up in a small apartment with a single mom, Jeremy is a sweet natured boy who preferred to stay within his own bubble and tend to his own interests.

-He’s mute and communicates with sign language! He’s taught a little bit to his friends (although he also uses writing and drawings to help them out where they don’t understand)

-Faced frequent ableism at school from students and teachers alike, he in turn did exactly as his mama taught him, use rude gestures.

-A huge mama’s boy! It’s always been them against the world, with his mom doing everything to give him the comfort she never had growing up. They bond over silly lil things, like the ant farm they’ve set up! (Jeremy’s tried to name every single ant)

Fritz Crowe / Foxy the Pirate Fox

-November 11, 1978-June 26, 1987 (8 years old), he/him, American

-Grew up on a block with his parents and older sister, he’s the Hurricane resident menace. Adults often label him as a “problem child”, he’s very fidgety and cannot stay still.

-Has a tendency to get into fights, as such he’s always bruised up and covered in bandaids. This also results in plenty of his clothes being ripped up and dirty, his mom frequently gets onto him for ruining all his nice clothes (he could care less)

-He’s Fritz Smith’s kid! He’s named after his parent. (Fritz actually took their job at Freddy’s to search for their son’s body and damage the Pizzeria’s property as retribution..)

-Had a cute lil crush on Susie while the gang was growing up, his form of affection though is usually shown through teasing, as such, him and Susie behave like a bickering old couple when around each other.

Gabriel Feitt / Freddy Fazbear

-June 26, 1978-June 26, 1987 (9 years old), he/him, American

-Grew up with his dad and older sibling in a less than favorable economic situation. Gabriel is a very empathetic, although anxious young boy. He grew up rather sheltered due to Cassidy’s determination to keep him safe, and he often struggles to connect to other children his age.

-The missing children’s incident happened on his birthday, he deals with a lot of internalized guilt, blaming himself for the deaths of his friends.

-Struggled to have a good relationship with his dad (who for years had been battling his own depression), and being a child, often couldn’t fully understand why his dad wasn’t always present for him and Cassidy.

-Always carrying around a Freddy plush that Cassidy had sewed up for him. It’s his comfort for when Cassidy isn’t around.

Cassidy Feitt / Fredbear

-February 2, 1974-June 26, 1987 (13 years old), nonbinary, they/them, American

-Gabriel’s older sibling and parental figure, Cassidy had to grow up fast following their mother’s passing and their father’s downward spiral. They’re an old soul who wants to keep their brother’s life in order (they often tend to forget that they themselves are still a kid)

-A rather spiteful and unforgiving kid, they prefer to keep to a small circle and not let many people get to close.

-Very protective of the other children (Gabe specifically), they’re everyone’s protector and the first one they go to when they need to be comforted.

-Had one friend growing up, her name was Seraphina Crowe (she was Fritz’s older sister), the Feitt’s and Crowe’s had been neighbors for years so their friendship just naturally blossomed.

Charlotte “Charlie” Emily / The Marionette

-May 13, 1972-May 13, 1983 (11 years old), nonbinary, they/them, American

-A natural born strange kid who loves to tell weird shit just to confuse others. In spite of their behavior they have a rather large circle of friends.

-They’d frequently gather scraps from their dad’s projects to try and come up with their own homemade animatronics (they never really made anything great but hey they had fun)

-Them and Cassidy are both highly protective of the kids, the two of them are highly aggressive to the staff who come around the other children due to their mistrust of adults.

-Always had headphones in when they were alive, they’re easily comforted by music.

[straitjacketzz]

HAVE YOU EVER DRAWN THESE GUYS?

Sooooo idek where to begin with this. I'll start by saying that yes I contacted Rebornica/Bones/Voltergeist and bought two of their old FNAF au designs. Those being Scott/Phone Guy and Jeremy. Before I get into anything I feel like I'm obligated to address Volt's past and let it be known that I do not Care about a mentally ill teenager faking other disorders or aggressively yelling at people to stop copying them or whatever other overdramatic thing they did like a decade ago and I don't think buying from them is anywhere near comparable to "supporting problematic people" compared other designers who are like homophobic or whatever the fuck else, and I'm not here to talk about or argue about "the ethics" of me giving Volt money. So jot that down before you even start typing.

I'm here to ask if anyone here has drawn art of Scott/Phone Guy and Jeremy so that i may save it and add it to their toyhouse galleries. You'll see they both currently have like 100 pieces in their galleries right now but I know that's not even scratching the surface. Theres just so much of it It's overwhelming to look for. Theres also issues of these designs being so popular to the point of people making their Own personal redesigns of them. And it starts to muddy up which art belongs to me or not. This isnt toooo much of a big deal with Jeremy as the giant "?" on his face makes him pretty distinct and easily recognizable as The Guy That I Own. But this becomes a problem with Phone Guy specifically. He is... pretty much The design that everyone draws him as regardless of if they intend for it to be Rebornica fanart or not. People use this design in their own AUs, people use this design as their own OC. Theres so so so so so much art of people labeling their art as "heres my phone guy design!" and its just the Rebornica design. And I don't feel comfortable or really have the heart to save anything that people consider to be theirs even if its literally the design that I own x__x It's just a bit hard when you own a design that is considered canon enough to a real video game to the point where people just. Take him. and there's nothing I can do about that. And it's not something that upsets me tbh because I knew this was an issue when I Bought him. Literally all I want to know is what art I can or can't save and upload to their archives lmao. So I figured asking people to send me their art directly would help reduce the chance of me just taking someone else's art that they didn't intend to be My phone guy. Not even counting the fact that a popular FNAF fan game called Dayshift At Freddy's has their own version of phone guy that ALSO had the red rotary phone head but wears a black business suit. So, any art of That One isnt mine.

But anyway yeah! And just know i'm looking for literally anything involving these guys. Digital art, traditional art, gifs, animations, physical/irl art, doodles, comics, fanfic, cosplays you made, even weird misc stuff like ponytown designs for them, literally anything and everything!!

also because i keep getting asked about it, Vincent, shadow vincent, mike, vendetta, mahogany, faith, captain, vex, sheriff, fritz, hocus, and boss have also all been sold and multiple different people own these guys now. and for vincents owner specifically, i will not be giving out their username as they Do Not Want To Be Contacted About It.

im cross-posting this on multiple websites so feel free to reach out anywhere where its most convenient for you. reblogs are appreciated for reach

twitter: straitjacketzz discord: straitjackets toyhouse: straitjackets

[museofreverie]

Chapter 00 ⋆ From You, 2000 Years Ago

WAYS OF FREEDOM┊Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Modern Fem!Reader ┊2nd POV

In which a chronically online Gen Z that went through the pandemic goes to the Attack on Titan Universe and tries her very best to change the ending with an "I can fix him" mentality.

⋆ CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 495 words

⋆ WARNINGS: manga spoilers

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𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐀𝐆𝐎 before the existence of Titans, and the start of humanity to strive for civilization—there was once a tale about a young girl who yearned to be free from a world full of cruelty.

          A girl who would be robbed of her senses, speech, and identity just because of being accused of something that would ultimately lead her to her own doom.

          And her name was Ymir.

          Ymir witnessed a world around her burning into flames. Full of chaos and misery, with no place for her to stand on her own. And thus, with her only chance, she freed the pigs from its cage as a result of her fleeting free will, despite the fact that she had only ever known submission. But what was to come would only be the beginning of her demise.

          Ymir, who was young and naive about the world, was punished by this ruthless chieftain by having her hunted for sport.

          Her suffering was their amusement. Her cries were like music to his warriors. They showed her the dark side of humanity. They showed her no mercy.

          But Ymir was determined to get away. And thus, she hid in a colossal tree, blood pouring out from her arm. And in she came, while all of a sudden being connected to a spine-like creature that granted her the power of life. The great power of Titans.

          Ymir, who was supposed to greet death, became the first Titan to ever exist.

          Fritz learned about this and chose to forgive her, keeping her as a slave to continue serving him. And as a gift to Ymir, he gave her the glory to bore him children.

          Ymir was used by Fritz to construct roads and bridges, nurture the wastelands, and utilized her newfound strength as a weapon of mass devastation.

          So to ensure that Eldia and the Titans could rule for all eternity, Fritz gave his daughters instructions upon his deathbed. To reproduce before having their offspring cannibalize their spines after they passed away.

          Time is just a fickle thing. But the tale about how Titans ruled the world and become the devils of the Earth will live on.

          But soon, mankind will pay for his sins.

          Everyone seems to know the tale—but never Ymir's real story.

          Some do not know of her name, while some label her as the slave who had a deal with the Devil. Like two sides of a coin, her story changes.

          But even in death, her soul remained blindly obedient to the Eldian royal family, creating Titans by hand for about 2,000 years in a place called 'The Paths' where time is only an illusion.

          Ymir had only wanted one thing. To be free from the agony of what this world gave her.

          Thus, she waited. And waited. And waited in the Paths. No matter how long it will take, she will wait until someone finally frees her from the thing that started it all.

To be continued . . .

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[fritzes]

2022: taylor fritz loses in the first round of the us open after being labeled a tournament favorite

2024: taylor fritz advances to the us open final, defying everyone's expectations