#the hard bounty hunter

[binkusdinkus]

The situationship is situationing

(btw this is a younger JD and hickory in the au)

+sleepy BH john dory + JD going to his first protest🥰🥰🥰🥰

[toshiitea]

His ass is mad!!! He thought the hunt would only last one rotation🤣🤣🤣🤣

Also if anyone (no one) is wondering how his goggles stay on, it’s attached by magnets in his head dress!

[naffeclipse]

Btw looking at the little naga multiverse that’s going on. I love it sm lol Into the Naga!Clip-Verse am I right??

How would a BH!Eclipse fit as a naga? And how would he interact with the others? :0

Ahahah, it really is! And tossing the bounty hunter into the mix? Oh man

Bounty Hunter!Eclipse as a naga takes after the Rainbow Boa. He possesses deep red scales with black saddle-shaped markings along his tail, and his sun rays are made of black and orange frills. He's nocturnal and sticks to the trees, preferring solitude and avoiding anything that walks along the ground, except for, of course, our lovely Y/N. He does not interact with the others. The reason is if he's compelled, he will act violently, horribly, and it will end will blood everywhere. So, he's better off alone while he struggles with his urges.

He carries a captivating rainbow iridescent sheen to his scales that is rarely seen, but Y/N manages to snap a picture of it, mistaking BH!Eclipse for only a snake and not a naga. Oops.

BH!Eclipse is none too pleased to be photographed and as such gives Y/N a warning with some terrifying hissing and threats to crush them. He looms over them and the brush of his coils gives Y/N shivers of death but ultimately, he refrains from his impulse to smother them. He orders them to show him the picture. When Y/N reveals the photo with shaking hands, he's stunned by how nicely Y/N captured him. As if he's not entirely violent and deadly. It stirs something deep in his cold heart.

He orders Y/N to leave. They bolt out of there like a gazelle but little do they know the impression they just left.

BH!Eclipse wants to see them again (he wants to see how nicely they bruise, how pretty their sanguine blood is—no, no, no) he wants to see if they'll take more pictures. He wonders how well they can handle seeing him again after he scared them.

What's one more thing to try and get right?

[howthebestwaslost-blog]

The Doctor: Rogue, have you thought about this? Properly? I mean, this is serious! What the hell are we going to do?

Rogue: Oh, I thought July.

[sammaggs]

3x06 The Bounty Hunter // 1x05 Pizza and Promises | Understood

Look, if the “refusing to force people to do the right thing and instead making them reflect upon their own moral calibre” ain’t broke, why fix it!!

(They both come through almost immediately)

(Ray Kowalski is refusing to scab and he is correct but they do kinda get around that)

[spookybeandoodle]

Did the bounty hunter sona

Meet Butch

I can’t look at this anymore or I’ll go crazy and try to fix/edit it and I can’t do that to myself bro-

[lavenoon]

Hope is a difficult thing. You have to choose it again and again and again, and fight for it when you most want to give it up.

I think Eclipse has earned a break

@naffeclipse I felt bad about yesterday's bit leaving Eclipse to think I only like him for his height so I had to fix it

self insert is not a girl (he/she)

og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!

[gatoszn]

the desire to observe them under a microscope is overwhelming

[repurposedmeatlocker]

I'm obsessed with Dale Gribble's occupations listed on the King of The Hill wiki

Average friend with no stable employment.

[ranminfan]

When Rumpelstilskin likes to host parties and will often invite people he knows.

.

There's this scene in Shrek 4 where they enter Stilskin's palace and we see all the witches partying.

AND BOI THIS scene right here made me think maybe the Piper would be here surrounded by these witches sprawled all over him because it looks like a frikkin nightclub and I can't stop thinking that this version of Piper would actually be into this agh- 👀😩

[whumble-beeee]

The First Day of the Rest of Your Life pt. 2

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping

Cont'd from Part 1

CW: disabled whumpee, flashbacks (ptsd), past captivity references, tied up, knives, gun

* * * * * * * *

[First impressions are extremely important when taking a hero hostage, whether you're nemeses who have fought countless times, or whether this is your first time formally meeting the hero. These first impressions will set the mood for the entirety of your and your captive's time together, so make sure to think long and hard about what initial impression you want to give off to the hero; do you want to be suave, cool, and calculating? Silly, coy, and unpredictable? Or maybe violent and dangerous, one not to be crossed or trifled with. The choice is up to you, you dastardly villain, you!

And if you're having trouble crafting a persona that will strike fear and invite obedience in the heart of your captive, just remember that above all else, you are the one in control. Have confidence in yourself and project that to your hostage, and the rest will follow suit!]

* * * * * * * *

All air left the room.

“I, a-ah–...” Stan couldn’t take his eyes off the blade cradled in the mercenary’s hand. His breath fell ragged as he forced his eyes away from the knife and into the gaze of the man holding it. And smiled. Hopefully, it didn’t look too much like a grimace. “I don’t like kni-ives…”

“Really…” 

The mercenary slowly ambled up until he literally blocked out the light coming from the center of the room, and gently pushed the sharp end of the knife up under Stan’s chin. 

The world went blurry for a moment as Stan tilted his chin up to accommodate, and the blade just went up with it, until Stan’s vision tunneled directly into the man’s eyes. He couldn't move.

He knew those eyes.

Staring down at him over the barrel of a revolver.

The bounty hunter glanced him up and down, before meeting his stupefied gaze again with an almost pitying grin. “This is gonna suck for you then.”

He whiffed the knife out and flipped it around in his hand as he circled behind the chair, barely nicking Stan’s chin with the razor-edge as it slid out from its place under his throat. The small sting of the cut was enough to bring the world crashing back to him.

Stan blinked. “Hey! Hey–... don’t do– Where– where, uh… Where are you going?”

“Behind you.”

“No– no shit, really?” he retorted, voice still embarrassingly shaky. The bounty hunter disappeared from his line of sight. “I meant– I mean what’re you–”

Stan gasped as the ropes tightened around his stomach. 

“Hey, hey! Stop! what’re you doing?!”

He immediately balled up his fists and tried to thrash away unsuccessfully for what felt like the thousandth time since he woke up, all the while attempting to twist around enough to see what was going on behind him.

“Cálmate, chiquito.” The ropes vibrated lightly. “I'm just cuttin’ the ropes.”

Stan stopped dead in his tracks. “What? Why?”

The bounty hunter’s voice took on that playful lilt Stan was already getting tired of. “I mean, I was just gonna put you on a leash in the corner, so you can actually move around a bit, but if you want to stay tied to the chair for some ungodly amount of time…”

Stan’s mind completely skipped over the leash part. He had to get out of this chair. “No, no, I don’t!”

“Really? Not sure I’m convinced, you seemed super panicked just now–”

“I wasn’t panicking!”

“Nah? Then I’m sure you’ll stay just as calm when I do this…”

The bounty hunter snatched his hand and strained it up against the twine. Stan instinctively flinched.

“Hey, what–!”

A prick on the top of his hand. Stan froze. Another prick. His heart rate spiked. The cool metal of the knife broke the skin a third time, longer, deeper this time, gliding through the skin barrier, stinging. His vision tunneled. Cool metallic threads shot through the top of his mouth, and he could swear he could feel the blood rushing from his brain and pooling down, down, down.

“Stop, STOP, PLEASE!!” He tried to break free, wiggle away from the knife and kick out and fight back against the man who was holding him hostage and tormenting him for no reason other than his own sick pleasure, but everything was starting to go dark and fuzzy and everything felt so hot, he was sweating, he was burning, he needed to get out now–

Stan's chair suddenly lifted and the entire thing spun around and landed hard back onto the floor with a clatter, accompanied by a fearful yelp. The bounty hunter’s hand moved from the top of the chair to the scruff of Stan’s neck, forcing Stan forward as he planted his knee on the seat of the chair between Stan’s legs and leaned on the unused armrests of the chair. Their faces were only inches apart. Stan strained to lean away, but just like the last million times, there wasn’t anywhere he could go. He sucked in a stilted breath.

“Y’know,” the hunter whispered as if he were sharing a damning secret between just the two of them. “If you’re gonna be all hysterical about it, I could just leave you right here…” 

Stan’s breath stuttered. The world was just the two of them. Focus on the now. Don’t pass out. “I– I kno-ow. Please don’t. Please.”

He pushed his little sister Chloe further behind his back and stood his ground. His sister pressed her face into his side.

He glared at those eyes before, snarled at them.

He felt dizzy, he couldn’t breathe, and more than anything he wanted to spit in the bounty hunter's face. He found that the best he could do was stare up at the bounty hunter with a stunned, blurry gaze as he tried to fight off the cotton that blanketed his mind.

“People get tied to the chair because they’re panicky and I don’t want them to hurt themselves, because they’re my responsibility. Like you were doing when you woke up. You were screaming and thrashing around, did you know that?”

“N-no…”

“I know you didn’t know.” His eyes dark brown eyes almost seemed to glitter red. Stan felt a visceral terror snaking up his gut for reasons he couldn’t explain. “That’s why you were tied to the chair. I’ll gladly keep you here if you keep struggling and being difficult, do you want that?”

The crackle of the walkie-talkie, the distorted voices.

“I think I found them.” The voice sealed his fate. “Uh… just– just one of them.”

The rope itched against his wrists. “No, pl-please don’t– Let me go.”

“I’m not sure I’m feeling so charitable anymore Stan, I gotta be honest. I think you should ask really nicely if you want me to untie you from this chair.”

He took a gasping breath, one he didn’t realize his body was screaming for. When had he stopped breathing? Where was he?

“Please un– uh, untie me from the chair”

The hunter nodded. “Alright, and?”

“I, uh... I would be so, so grateful?…” Stan tapered off with a squeak as his captor rolled his eyes at him and shook his head.

“No, no, look.” The hunter prompted. He squeezed the back of Stan’s neck. “You’re not going to…” 

Why couldn’t he just pass out? 

“I’m uh, I’m not going to… be panicky or, or difficult?…”

“Mhm, and?”

And?! He was already begging! What else did this guy want?!

Stan’s befuddlement must have shown on his face, because the hunter gave another hint with only the slightest annoyed groan: “What’re we gonna do instead?”

“Put me on a– a leash…” Stan felt his face burning red. He wanted to curl up into a little ball and rock himself until everything went away. He felt so small. He could never hide. “... in the corner…”

“And that’s a privilege because?”

“... you could just leave me in the chair. Captured.”

The hunter leaned back a bit and smiled. “There you go, you got there. Repeat it all back now.”

Stan squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a shaky breath, and breathed out some of the clouds dimming his mind. He forced his eyes to focus.

“Please untie me from the chair, I won’t be panicky or difficult and I know it’s a– a privilege–” The words almost caught in his throat. “– to be on a le-leash in the corner instead. Because you could just leave me in the chair. If you wanted. And you’re not… I– I– um, thank you…”

The hunter’s hand slid up from the neck of his shaking captive and ruffled his hair.

“Attaboy, that was good. Good job.”

Stan hated how much he relaxed at the praise. At how much effort it took to even jerk away from the petting.

Right up until the very large pocket knife entered his field of vision, heading straight for his stomach. 

He screamed, wrenching his eyes shut and throwing himself as far back as possible, hoping he would just phase through the chair entirely and fall through the floor and be away from the horror show of agony that was sure to be his stomach now, away from this entire humiliating and hopeless situation, away from the flashbacks and the terror and the ropes and the captivity and the experiments and the pain–

Eventually, a realization broke through the frenzy that he wasn’t in screaming agony.

He wasn’t dying.

He was still here.

In fact, his restraints felt noticeably looser.

He tentatively opened his eyes to find a few of the ropes from his front now lay cleanly cut in his lap or hanging at his sides.

The bounty hunter chuckled into his hand, trying to hold it together. Then when he noticed his captive staring at him, he practically doubled over in a fit of laughter.

“Not gonna–” He had to look away, covering his mouth as a fit of giggles overtook his ability to speak. “Not gonna panic or be– be difficult, huh? No panic at all?”

Stan sputtered, ears red. How could he be laughing? “I– I– you– didn’t…! I– AUGH!”

His yell echoed through the room. He wanted to scream at the man, or at least run for the door now that he was technically free. But lashing out would get him nowhere, not here, not now.

He gave up on trying to speak and instead seethed while he worked at shaking off the rest of the ropes.

About half the tendril twisting around his stomach were still intact, so it took much more struggling than his dignity would have preferred to squirm out. He even tried to use his good knee to help nudge the ropes aside, since his wrists were still securely tied behind the back of the chair and useless. That didn’t really help.

But he managed, same as always.

“It's really not that funny.” Stan deadpanned as he finished working on the bindings and carefully lifted his bound wrists above the back lip of the chair.

The bounty hunter still hadn’t finished his giggle fit.

“Y'know, you're– you're really good at the whole, uh, submissive thing,” the mercenary snickered. “Suits you.”

A heavy ball knotted in the pit of his stomach. “What.”

“I mean, as soon as I got up in your face, you just stopped dead in your tracks and immediately got all cute and scared and agreeable.”

Stan clenched his teeth. He should cut through the twine tying his wrists right now and strangle this guy with how horrible–... 

Wait… Did the mercenary even know Stan could still use his powers without his cane? He mentioned earlier that it was a shame Stan couldn’t use his powers without it, but he could.

Not very well. But it was better than nothing.

“I wouldn't have done that,” he growled. “If you hadn't decided it'd be fun to fuck with me and set off my fight or flight!”

 “That wasn't fight or flight, bud, that was fawn.” The mercenary gave a condescending tilt of the head before holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“I’m just saying you'll probably do just fine as a prisoner. It is gonna be the rest of your life, all the better that it suits you well.”

“I don't–! It doesn't suit me, I-I'm not–” The bounty hunter nodded at him with false interest, patiently waiting for him to go on. Stan cried out in rage.

“Whatever! You're abusing your power over me for no reason!”

A pause. Both men stopped breathing for just a moment.

The mercenary’s gaze suddenly turned barely narrower and icy cold.

“I'm abusing my power?” He stepped forward, barely out of arms reach and absolutely towering over his captive.

“I could show you a real abuse of power, chiquito.”

Stan shot up to his feet with a loud stomp to finally match the mercenary. He was still a solid foot shorter than the man, but it still got the point across. 

He hoped.

The movement also served another purpose: he’d slammed his feet down hard enough to feel the reverberations throughout his body, just hard enough to create enough force to transfer up through his fingers into a very small point. A point just fine enough to slice through the bindings of his wrists.

He was finally, finally unbound. 

He still held his arms behind his back.

“How dare you.”

The mercenary hummed in surprise, curious where this outburst would lead. He nodded for Stan to go on. 

As if Stan needed his permission to go on. He took a step forward, and the man actually stepped back in turn.

“I don't know who you think you are, but if you can think you can just hold me captive like this and talk to me like this and expect me not to fight back, you’ve got an entire ‘nother thing coming!” Stan yelled.

“I’m not gonna just sit back and let you mess with me because you think it’s funny! I’m not going to sit there and let you do whatever you want to me, and I’m not going to let you, or whoever you work for, or anyone else for that matter, keep me captive for the rest of my life! Not gonna happen! I’m going to escape, and then I’ll find you and everyone you work for, and make every single one of you wish you had never been born. Got that?”

And for a moment, everything was still. 

Stan’s labored breathing echoed throughout the room. He’d backed up the mercenary several steps in his tirade, much to the screeching protests of his bad knee. More surprisingly, the mercenary no longer looked down on him with that condescending smile. 

Instead, his eyes quickly shot up and down Stan’s body, before meeting Stan’s scowling gaze with his own challenging stare. 

Right before he took one more step back and slid his hands comfortably into his pockets.

“Well, if you’re going to try to run, now would probably be the best time.”

Stan gawked at the man. Then shook his head out. He must have been hearing things. 

“What?”

“You said you were going to escape, yeah? You’re not gonna let me hold you captive, you’re gonna escape and take revenge?”

Stan had to suppress the urge to go back on his own words. “Yes.”

“Well, I’m about to put a manacle on your ankle and you'll be chained to the corner over there,” he nodded over his shoulder, to the corner of the room farthest away from the door.

“You’re more or less free right now. Now would be the best time. You wanna try your luck?”

“But– you– you’re standing right here! You could just reach out and grab me!” 

“That’s how it’ll always be, runt.”

A chill bolted from his head all the way down his spine.

“Uh…” his voice shook again. He hadn’t prepared for this. What was the endgame here? “Aren’t you gonna be mad?”

“Oh, I’ll be furious.” His dark eyes glittered the smallest sparkles of crimson, a light smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“And when I catch you and bring you back, you’ll have to deal with the consequences of that. Can’t say it’ll be pretty either. So you gonna try your luck, or nah?” 

Stan turned to look at the door. Then back to the mercenary. His heart pounded against his ribcage, and he could already feel the quick in and out of his breaths making his brain feel buzzy and light. 

He looked to the door again. How far could he even get without his cane? Certainly not as far as someone who didn’t have a dud for a knee.

He looked to the mercenary. Could he even fight him off with such limited use of his magic? Did it even matter that he had already cut his wrists free?

His eyes shifted once more to the holster on the man’s belt. What about that? Was he willing to risk a gunshot wound in an escape attempt that had almost no chance of working? 

The cold metal barrel of the gun bit into his windpipe.

He never felt so frozen before.

A rough hand grabbed him, shoved him forward.

He screamed for help.

No one came.

His jaw clenched so hard it may as well have shattered. His eyes burned. He just wanted to go home.

“No.”

The hunter raised his eyebrow. “Come again?”

“I ca-an’t–” his voice cracked. He wished he could hide the way his chest heaved and his face contorted to try and hold back the tears. He wished he could hug himself as some sort of self-comfort. But he kept his hands firmly clasped behind his back. “I can’t.”

The mercenary nodded lightly with a small hum. At least that stupid grin hadn’t made a reappearance. 

“All right then, come here. You uh, need help walking?”

He turned around to walk to the corner of the room, motioning for Stan to follow.

Stan didn’t follow.

He ran.

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy

[tiredassmage]

horrendous beast on tatooine <3

[akirateku]

Hope everyone's had a great weekend so far!

Phew, I have a LOT to say about this beautiful show and how amazing the crew is...but for now, here's a dood of one of my favorite friendships from My DadThe Bounty Hunter --Robo-Sean and K.R.L. You can check out these adorable sweet honey-children and learn the true meaning of fun (and MORE) by watching the show on Netflix, now! Please Enjoy🙏🏽✨

[herogardn]

literally no one asked but im brainworming so suffer the consequences

[sammaggs]

3x06 The Bounty Hunter | Real

So like… what do we suppose Welsh has going on while the department is on strike has the flu? We’ve got a wooden fowl and a stuffed bear.

All guesses welcome, the more insane the better obviously, this is due South.

[glouris]

congratulations to boba fett for beating shorter than cal kestis allegations