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wednak · 1 year

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Weddud Wednesday #5: A void we all try to avoid

Lol first things first, I wish I could claim the copyrights to that hilarious title but unfortunately it was a joke that I read a few weeks ago in the book that I’m reading. When I saw it, it immediately sparked the idea for this type of post so here I am, venturing into the void we all try so hard to avoid venturing into.

I’ve had a really long and somewhat stressful day, and I’m exhausted, so today, I don’t really feel like being teachy explainer Nn, I kind of feel like being genuine and vulnerable Nn. So I thought I’d just try to share without thinking too much about what I’m writing.

I can remember several different conversations that you and I have had about “the void” and all the different strategies we use to fill up the feeling of that void with things/people/activities, etc.

Before I read that joke about the void we all try to avoid, I’d never really thought to connect this idea of the “void” that you and I have talked about to other psychological concepts or ideas that I know of.

Cuz what is that void actually? Is it memories of past experiences and trauma? Is it negative emotions we don’t want to feel? Is it insecurities and parts of ourselves that we want to hide from others? Is it all of the above and more? Or is it something else entirely?

I don’t actually know the correct answer to this and somewhat doubt that there even could be one. But there are a few different ideas that have popped into my mind while I’ve been thinking about this for the past few weeks.

As humans, I think we all probably have the same foundational void that comes along with being a conscious being in this marvelously beautiful and tragic universe that we find ourselves in. It seems like a rather unlikely phenomenon that humans would respond to human consciousness, the knowledge of good and evil and the awareness of our coming death with anything other than complete and utter overwhelm and existential dread.

Life is fucking weird man. It just is. There is so much happiness and so much suffering and the knowledge of all of it is a handful to deal with on an everyday basis.

I don’t know if this has any scientific basis but to me it makes a whole lot of sense that once humans realized what the fuck their consciousness had just unlocked for them, our minds and bodies would work really hard to be like oooook, if we can’t unlearn this shit anymore let’s at least just suppress that knowledge back down as far as it can go so we don’t have to think about that fucking mess and become completely debilitated from functioning as a living organism.

So I think in a way, we all probably have a collective void that we really don’t like to think about. All of these things that cause discomfort, anxiety, fear, sadness or whatever reaction we might want to lump into “existential dread”. That sort of meaninglessness that we know deep down is at the root of our very existence.

Religion exists across culture because it provides us with a meaning, a WHY and a way out of the meaninglessness. That makes sense to me. And it also makes sense that everyone these days is losing their goddamn minds because we have nothing else to replace that anchor with.

Responsibility for children, a project, a job, a community or group of people is probably also a really good tool to help anchor us to something that resembles “stability”. Good luck bringing that one up today lol.

Marriage is probably also up there. Being shackled into a commitment that you can’t escape from, no matter how badly you want to or how badly you screw up. And yet we dish out divorces like they’re candy. Ahhhhh 2018 me.

We’ve pretty much eradicated all of the “effective” strategies that humans have used for thousands if not millions of years to cope with innocent Eve eating that apple in the garden. No fucking wonder that everyone is turning to fucked up coping mechanisms to deal with the void.

All of that is the collective part of the void that I’ve been thinking about. The part that we all kind of have in common.

But then people also have their individual voids that they are trying to avoid, don’t they?

The shit I’m running from, that is different from what you’re running from, that is different from what my mom is running from, that is different from what your dad is running from.

That part of the void is probably more like the personal shit we experience and suppress because we don’t know how to deal with it and so the only strategy we know is to stuff it somewhere where it is outside of our conscious awareness.

This is literally when I had the idea that the void could be what Jung called the Shadow.

Should not have been a surprise lol.

You have the collective aspect which is part of what he called the Collective Unconscious. And then you have the personal aspect which is part of what he called the Personal Unconscious.

Shadow is such a good word for it too imo. Because it really fucking feels like a Shadow doesn’t it?

It’s always there and creeping right behind you but it’s never quite with you either and it isn’t “real” enough for you to grab or get a hold of. You can feel it but at the same time it also just feels empty and numb.

This murky thing that always follows us no matter where we go.

Sure, if we face away from it, we can’t really see it. And if we try hard enough we might momentarily forget that it’s right behind us. But at the end of the day, it never actually goes away.

I think the thing I love about psychology so much is probably that it gives you at least some tools to deal with all the personal things you’re running from. They’re so different for everybody but on average, people can usually find something that helps them face whatever trauma or insecurity they might have suppressed out of conscious awareness. And thus reduce that feeling of emptiness and numbness that happens as a result.

Now the existential void is a whole other can of worms. I don’t know if that one will ever go away, even with religion, responsibility, marriage, children or whatever else humans cook up to try to deal with it.

“There is a burden that comes with this level of power. The burden of knowing. Or maybe the burden of knowing that you can never know. That at the end of everything, the only thing that is certain is you and your relationship with god or the universe or whatever it is you want to call it. Nothing really matters, and that’s why everything matters. Despite all the burdens, it’s the greatest freedom I’ve ever known and the greatest that life has to offer.”

I’ve tried so many times of the years but I’ve never really been able to put into words exactly what my life used to feel like before I reached that level of insight.

I think the thing that inspired me about the void is that it comes pretty close.

It was like I was numb and empty in a place in my mind and my heart where there should have been some sort of feeling. That a part of my experience of life had to be made unconscious for otherwise I couldn’t have functioned in the way a normal child or teenager is expected to function. But I had absolutely zero awareness that it was happening. I had so freaking little self-awareness in general because if I had had more of it, I would have been aware of how miserable I was and I don’t know if I could have figured out how to deal with that.This part of myself that felt unheard and abandoned, that should have felt shattered by the pain, rejection and inauthenticity I was experiencing.

But what did I do, instead I projected all of that anxiety, fear and sadness onto intense insecurities about things that the universe provided as an excuse and that I had a vague sense of control over.. having bad hair or skin, being too tall, being too skinny, … Looking back on it now, I can see that sure, I might have been a bit of a lanky, awkward kid with frizzy hair and bad teenage skin and those things might have fueled my negative self-image as I was growing up. But that deep-rooted self-hatred that bubbled up from the void every time I looked at myself in the mirror or in a photograph didn’t really have anything to do with my hair or my skin or my boobs. That came from a place so much deeper where there was an endless source of anxiety, anger, fear, grief and sadness.

Is it weird that thinking about the void in the way I talked about it today kind of just makes me feel better about all of that?

I guess it’s the realization that while we all have our personal shit that we run from and that stuff can be rough, there’s always an element of just having normal human existential dread to deal with as we grow up. And damn if you’re not given the proper tools to learn to deal with that, then that alone is already enough to make people run to the shittiest of coping mechanisms in an attempt to erase that void.

Pretty sure I was somewhat all over the place today and my thoughts weren’t structured as smoothly as usual but sometimes that’s just life and I’m rolling with it.

Maybe next time when it’s 2 am and I’m only half a human, I’ll do a Nn deep dive into what it felt like to finally open that void and realize all the shit that came pouring out. I always talk about how important it is to face all the repressed trauma and all the usual stuff but I don’t think I usually admit how thin the line is between getting a hold on that wave in order to ride it out and being pulled under in the flood of negative emotions.

There are days when I realize how easily I could have been completely drowned by it all. And then I’m not 100% certain as to what it was that helped me stay afloat.

People who are close to me always tell me that I’m too self-righteous. That I make people feel judged or shamed when I push them to become the best version of themselves because it makes them feel like they are falling short of some bar that I have deemed worthy.

There is so much to unpack in that which has nothing to do with what I was writing about and which I am also entirely too tired to do right now. But I guess maybe the unexpected place that this post has carried me today is this:

I hope you know that judgement is never my intention. This path of self-healing is the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done in my life but it is also the most painful and the most difficult thing and while I personally think it is worth it, I understand that there are real dangers to people opening up that door. I understand why people don’t want to or can’t do it.

And I think in today’s culture where personal development and working on yourself has become such a trendy thing to do, it’s really important to remember that a person’s worth doesn’t depend on any of it.

Alrighti, sappy Nn needs to post this and go to bed now before she changes her mind about being too sappy. Or at least more sappy than usual. Which of course she then followed by…

Non refert ubi es, ego semper tecum.

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where-skies-end · 1 year

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"the hell is going on with precia's royal family"

aka a long ramble that might explain why rysel turned out The Way He Did

i think the really obvious thing to address here is the ranking system. it was designed and implemented probably 500+ years before the events of fallen castles, and the idea was that the current monarch could choose a successor from their offspring who was best suited to the throne, rather than using birth order like the other kingdoms, to give their kingdom more stability and prevent them from ending with a ruler who can't actually rule. noble concept, increasingly poor execution as generations passed and forgot why the system became a thing in the first place

one of the things this system did is encouraged the monarchs to have a lot of kids, with the hope they could get one that perfectly fit what they were looking for to take over after them. unfortunately the other thing it encouraged was for the monarch to play favorites toward the kids who Actually showed some promise

so by the time we get to fallen castles, there's just. massive numbers of royal siblings (14, at the start of the story), tons of favoritism going on, nobody trusts anybody because a lot of them are trying to undermine each other to improve their rankings, all of them are terrified of ruining the Family Image (tm)

which leads into the NEXT fucked up thing, which is the ideals the current king and queen have. image is everything to them. they want their family to look peaceful, perfect, and happy regardless of what's going on in their heads. servants talk, rumors spread, so even in what should be a place of safety none of them can really feel safe showing emotions

rysel is just. not able to handle any of this pressure. the only reason two of his siblings rank below him is because they're literal actual preteens. he's kind of always served as the family scapegoat, to both his parents and many of his higher-ranking siblings. going out and finding the one sister who is actually decent to him and tries to protect him, in his mind is a shot at redemption. and coming back with her dead and warped by demonic energy so badly there's nothing presentable for a funeral, not to mention he's been injured so badly it's hard to ignore he's been tangling with demons, that's just the failure of a lifetime. no matter how ridiculous it seems from the outside, nobody can just get over stuff that's been drilled into them from the time they were old enough to have a personality, which why he's mentally Struggling for so long in the story even after he's healed physically. and really, him getting disowned and stripped of his rank/power in private (this does NOT become public knowledge) was probably the good option, because the queen is not and has never been above ordering her lower ranking children being whipped for fuck ups that can't be covered up like that

#lore #world of beasts #fallen castles #worldbuilding #cw abuse mention

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darkdevasofdestruction · 3 years

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An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

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For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

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Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

#dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #silent hill #silent hill x reader #silent hill imagine #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head imagine #red pyramid #red pyramid x reader #red pyramid imagine

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snow-in-the-desert · 3 years

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Dramione Recommendations

Ok so, 2020 has been A LOT but on a personal note one of the most surprising things to happen was me discovering Dramione fanfiction and becoming unashamedly obsessed with it. I really didn’t see that coming but I’m here now and I’m here to stay.

I think I started reading in the Dramione fandom around mid July last year?? (In all honesty I’ve lost any true sense of time’s progression at this point so I could be well off the mark with that) And I’ve decided to compile a list of all my favourite fics I’ve read so far. Why? I really just want to gush over all the amazing writers I have found through this fandom because y’all deserve it.

Side note: If any of the authors actually sees this post just dm so I can buy you coffee or post you writing supplies or something idk I feel like that’s the least I can do for all your amazing work x

Remain Nameless by @heyjude19-writing

Ok I have to start with RN because this fic is pretty much the sole reason I decided to create an account with A03 or a tumblr or just decided to get involved with this fandom at all.

I headcannon this story hard. But I think even if you aren’t a fan of Dramione you should just read this because it is so unbelievably good and well written and poignant and Draco’s sarcastic personality in this is truly a thing of beauty in this - I relate to his inner monologue’s on a deep personal level.

I could rave about this story any time, any day of the week, just ask me. In fact, maybe I’ll just start a HeyJude19 fan club to fulfill that urge.

There are so many elements that I love but for the sake of brevity, RN is a beautifully told story of Draco and Hermione finding love and healing in a post-war HP setting. Heyjude19 had the very special ability of making me want to simulatenously laugh, cry and swoon with the power of her words. Just stop what you are doing and go read it now if you havent already, ok?

I also really enjoyed reading Bells on a Hill, Beers, Potions and Unwise Notions and A Shift in Focus, if you are looking for smaller fics, definitely give these a go. They are all funny and heartfelt stoires that will make your tippy toes wriggle with glee.

The Rights and Wrongs Series by @lovesbitca8

The Right Thing To Do, All The Wrong Things and The Auction are the holy trinity of Dramione writing. I have christened it thus, so mote it be. And frankly I’m not interested in any other opinion than that one, thank you very much!

After reading this series I don’t think I’ll be able to look back on the orginal HP books without thinking of Hermione’s and Draco’s memories of their time at Hogwarts in these fics as anything other than strictly cannon.

So many things to love about this series but I think one of the major highlights was Hermione and Draco’s use of occlumency. LoveBitca8 created such beautiful visuals with how occlumency works as a magical practice and seeing Draco and Hermione so devoted to eachother to the point of safeguarding their inner most feelings to protect eachother was unbelievably romantic and poetic.

Also the smut is divine ;)

Manacled by @senlinyu

My heart will never be the same after reading this story. Like I actually can’t think about this fic without getting a lump at the back of my throat. I have never felt so emotionally ruined after reading anything, compared to the likes of this fic. Just please, please read it. To badly quote HP, reading Manacled will make you suffer but you’re going to be happy about it.

The flashbacks are a rollercoaster in of themselves but the way Hermione inadvertently refers to them when she is still in a state of memory loss was so heartbreaking to read. My heart still aches for them both. Also its a truly satisfying to see Draco and Hermione written in a way were they are both so fiercly protective of one another. They make my insides go soft.

I also really enjoyed Snow Fall, Now Is A Gift and All You Want by the author but to be honest anything written by Senlinyu is always thoroughly enjoyable and worth a look.

The Erised Effect by @adaprix

Ada is QUEEN of dramione smut but ‘The Erised Effect’ is top tier. Its equal parts funny, romantic, sentimental and oh so sexy. Ada really knows how to build and build on sexual tension and doesn’t disappoint on the final delivery. I’m a big admirer of her writing style and just veraciously read whatever she posts but ‘The Erised Effect’ is just golden. A must read. (Also Pansy’s sexual fantasy in this story is a visual I don’t think I’ll ever be able to remove from my brain so thanks for that Ada)

Also quick side note: Adaprix’ stories were the first I read when I was looking into this fandom and it was enough to get me hooked on the pairing from the get go so I have that to thank Ada for too. I remember devouring all the stories she had posted to A03 and when I was done I was like... now what am I supposed to do with my life?? And that’s basically when I began to look deeper into the fandom and thus the course of my life in 2020 changed for the better.

Some other stories I love by her are Break for Me, All My Sins, The Big 4-0, The Fucklust Series and The Flat in Bath.

Clean by @olivieblake

This 6th Year AU where Draco and Hermione work together on a class assignment and end up falling in love had me feeling all kinds of ways when I read it. I almost don’t know where to start but I think one of the stand out things for me was how immersed I felt in reading it.

Hogwarts is captured really well, you get a good sense of class atmospheres, character nuances and behind the scenes of events that happen in HBP but from a Draco and Hermione’s perspectives. It’s well executed and intricate tapestry of a fic. With an excellent plot twist ending!

Also Hermione and Draco’s relationship in this is equal parts fluffy and smutty and it just ticks all the right boxes that you want to see for those characters ;)

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by @onyx-and-elm

The angst in this one is just *chef’s kiss*

God I love this fic. The way Draco is portrayed is very true to his defensive and tetchy character in the original books but he is also given so much more depth. The way his diary entries are written are just so well executed. It’s a true testament to the author’s creative writing skill. And I LOVE how even though Draco is clearly in such a messed up place, he still has a basic level of self respect and dignity that he won’t tolerate being used or undervalued in his relationship with Hermione.

Yep, I really love Draco’s characterisation in this one if you can’t tell. But Hermione is also well written too. Her stuggles and trauma of returning to Hogwarts after war is described in a believable and grounded way. And my heart definitely ached for them both. I just wanted to wrap the pair of them in a big fuzzy blanket and tell them that everything will be alright.

WANDS OUT! by @persephonestone

This murder mystery / Dramione / Theo x Harry / AU crossover is everything I didn’t know I wanted until I read it. I felt like I was picked up and plonked right into an alternative dimension where all the characters of HP are just living it up in an Agatha Christie novel.

It’s a funny and clever story that I found refreshing to read amongst all the other fanfics that are usually cemented in the HP timeline or universe. Theodore Nott in this fic is perfection he should be written like this in every fic from now on in my opinion. I couldn’t stop giggling any time he had a scene in the story.

And the ‘only one bed’ trope in this fic is 10/10. I don’t want to give spoilers but ohmygod. It hits all the right notes.

The One With Technical Difficulties by cassielassie

Cassielassie has an excellent three part series of Dramone called ‘The One with...” but I have to give special credit to this story in particular for one main reason. ELEVATOR TROPES. I can’t get enough of em. I think I have my early childhood viewings of NCIS to thank for my obsession with elevator tropes they just do something to me that simply cannot be explained with mere words. The palpable sexual tension of being in a broken down elevator with an ‘enemies to lovers’ pairing, a heated arguement breaks out followed by a discovery of mutual feelings and a romantic embrace...

Eugh. It gets me everytime. And this fic is no exception. I loved it for all the reasons I’ve already stated above but also for the attention to detail in Draco and Hermione’s careers makes this one particularly immersive. The dynamics between them established in this one-shot are convincingly portrayed and the chemistry between them is so undeniably hot.

The Light is No Mystery by @masterofinfinities

Yooo if you want to read a dramione fic that is a deep dive into Pureblood culture and Post-War recovery but is also a perfect allegory for discrimination and today’s political landscape of moral grandstanding for votes then look no further than this one.

This story has a bit of everything. Intrigue, mystery, ptsd and recovery, enemies to lovers / secret relationship, government conspiracy and humour, to name a few. I eargerly await every update to this story and am anxious to know how it ends!

The Eagle’s Nest by HeartOfAspen

Finally! A fic that gives me the Ravenclaw representation I crave. I think I could recommend this fic on the lore depicted of Ravenclaw house alone. ‘The Stacks’ and Rowena Ravenclaw’s own ‘come and go room’ are just such cool details that I could see being real in the HP universe.

This fic is so cosy and makes me feel like I’m just popping back into Hogwarts for another year. You get to see all the usuals like prof. Mcgongall, Nearly headless Nick, PEEVES, Hagrid, as well as learn more about minor characters from the other school houses. The story follows Hermione going to her day to day classes and there are interesting concepts about magic and alchemy that are explored.

Draco and Hermione’s relationship in this one is of course very fluffy and heartfelt. But it’s the attention to detail that really makes this fic outstanding and the experience of reading it feels fleshed out and true to HP universe.

A shorter fic by HeartofAspen that I recommend is one called Set in Stone, it has an adventurous, Indianna Jones vibe to it, that I am so down for.

Teachable Moments by @purplesugarquills

In this fic Hermione is an innocent little virgin determined to learn everything about sex. And Draco Malfoy is her tutor. If that isn’t enough to get you on board then I don’t know what is. Both Heartfelt and Steamy. PurpleSugarQuills writes smut so well but it’s the progression of their growing attachment and the nervous treading of new uncharted waters of romantic relationships for both of them that just adds a whole other level of feels to the story. Also chapter 9 is like reading poetry - its so good. Eugh just give it a read if you haven’t already.

Les Pèlerins by @pacific-rimbaud

This story is high art. It’s transcendent. Reading this story feels like the emotional equivalent of standing around a hundred glowing fairy lights, sipping hot cocoa and being wrapped in the loving embrace of a s/o. I can’t speak my praises highly enough or even become passably coherent in my words when I try to articulate a review.

From the very first paragraph I felt like I was just whisked away on a Parisian holiday and I’ve never even bloody been to Paris but damn it if this story didn’t make me feel like I was there. The writing style is just so tactile and intense it’s like I could feel the cold winter air brush against me as I read it. Eugh I just completely fell in love with the story and the writer.

New Year’s resolution. Read everything PacificRimbaud has ever posted online.

#This post is the online equivalent of me thrusting a pile of books into your hands and poking at you until you every single one #A behaviour I may or may not already be prone to #dramione #fanfiction #fanfic recommendations #I think I may have missed a few but I think I'll try to make a habit of gushing over new writers as I find them #Doing this just satisfies a deep inner urge in me to just compliment the everloving shit out of writers #who made my life a little more bearable with their words

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jaypsnax · 3 years

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Alright then, to take it from the top... here’s some things I’ve done here or there for this dang game, from oldest to newest. With a big chunk of months starting with the margin Floofty there. Much is traditional and such, which is not my most practiced medium. Details on each below, just because I like over-explaining and it helps my nerves about posting.

1st: Fairly certain this Gramble is the first thing I did that was OK enough to show. Or, at least close to the first. He was one of my favorites and still is for his kindness(though he also can be really mean and paranoid, also a reason why I like him), so I wanted to get around to em. Also he’s very cute, I love my little malewife. I wanna scoop him up and hold him. Trouble is, Gramble has to have some of the most awkward proportions I’ve yet experienced while trying to draw a grumpus, I swear. That, and the more I looked at it, the more I grew to be unhappy with it. That generally applies to basically all of the drawings from last year, I find them to be “eh” at best. But it is what it is. 2nd: Second up is Flooftyyy, my most favorite. Intelligent, well-spoken, morally ambiguous, NB... and an asshole. But one with a cause they believe in that’s ultimately well intentioned, which they’ll go to self-destructive lengths to fulfill. And it’s clear they struggle to really get a grasp on how to treat people and have learned to cope with their frustration by shutting everyone out and believing them to be ignorant. While still obviously playing favorites between Eggabell and Triffany :p But by the end of the game, they’re learning that in order to really do what they want, they’ve got to really try and understand others. They’re the sort that I’d love to keep following to see their development. The awkwardness, the uncomfortable apologies and attempts at empathizing or opening up, the potential for blossoming relationships and a connection with others that, maybe, they’ve never quite experienced before. Their character is one that’s kind of close to my heart for being interesting and also quite similar to one I made and roleplayed for years. Add in the fact they’re NB and that just sealed the deal, that’s some fucking gender goddamn euphoria right there. So I had to draw them. 3rd: This one also mostly falls under the same explanation as above, except it was an effort as really figuring out grumpus bodies and proportions and stuff. Albeit in the form of solely Floofty, but my mental bandwidth for anything more than a drawing or two at a time is zilch. After that I’m spent. It was the first thing that I felt even marginally satisfied with, however.... I just feel like I’m in danger when looking at it. Like I’m gonna lose my way of things and habits I’ve built now from observing it too closely. Did keep the eyes, however. Kind of. 4th: To be real w you I just felt like drawing a Filbo after seeing a Filbo. He’s cute and I’d put a smooch on his dumb little head. Also more practice w grump stuff, but with some intentional attempts at stylization. I guess it didn’t stick, but who knows, maybe I could pick some of it back up? 5th: THE FIRST NEW DRAWING FROM A FEW DAYS AGO and it’s FLOOFTY, of course. It’s not really the first, there’s a few other things before it, but they suck so... yeah. I’d crawled out of the Bugsnax hole somewhat after a few months and failing to really do anything I actually wanted to do before, but a particular fic conked me right back 6 ft under. Piled the dirt over me and packed it in tight. So here I am again. And not only is it like that, but after binging a whole nearly 60,000 words in a night/morning, I was struck with the inspiration to actually write myself. Or try to, anyway. I have experience in RPing, but not a whole lot in actually... making a story myself. It’s not been going well, but I’ve talked plenty about that already... I’m sure it gets annoying for the whole maybe one person whose seen most of it to witness. And I’m still having fun. I’d mention the fic, but considering it’s NSFW and I’m officially tagging this... I don’t know if they’d want me advertising it as such. But surprise surprise, it’s Floofty related. And don’t get the wrong idea, while it covers explicit subject matter, that’s not entirely the point. Not a bad thing if it were, just that it’s more than that. I just like good character writing over all else, which is something liking this game to begin with heavily reinforced.... 6th: Heeeere’s Gramble, again. I’d been doing some little drawings for character profile stuff in my notebook, but I started to run into some difficulties when I got to him. This here is one of the results of the couple of little draws I did to try and understand. Again, his proportions are so *weird*. He’s just a little guy.... 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th: Here marks the first impulse draw after considering Buddy/Filbo/Beffica poly stuff. As well as the sudden Buddy drawing in general, which came as a big shock to me. These draws are suuuper rough, but I like the concepts. And goodness has this stuff been a whole ‘nother tangent... I did a fair amount of talking about it here. I’d do more, since there were TONS of details I still wanted to mentioned, but... my hands are starting to hurt. So maybe later. I realized that I kinda of messed up their design in my head bc I thought they had more similar teeth to Clumby. Whoops. That’s what I get for not using reference and same with FlooFTY’S TEETH AND THE WATCH NOOOOOOOOOO- .... *Ahem* I reckon the design is subject to change. Gotta make some little adjustment here or there, like maybe different eyes to distinct them from Floofty, but I actually rather... like the look. The hat, tie, and maybe a change to a bag on the side look nice... if totally not canon. But I will have just a little break from canon, as a treat. Otherwise it’s canon or bust. Personally, at least. I don’t really hold others to that standard unless they say they’re trying to follow canon or diverge so badly that a character is unrecognizable.

#bugsnax #Floofty Fizzlebean #Filbo Fiddlepie #Beffica Winklesnoot #Journalist #uhhhhh #Gramble Gigglefunny #This is NOT going to be a common thing #Floating around in official tags kinda freaks me out #my art

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aeempress · 3 years

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Apritello Express Evidences, part 3

Apritello, my dear friends, is really all hints, devil in details, little pieces that, in the end, become a huge picture.

I can't say that there are a lot of episodes with April and Donnie spending quality time together, no. But all episodes are important to understand how their relationship are involving, growing. If you have sharp eyes and think about all of this even a little bit, you will be surprised how gracefully their relationship changes and grows, how characters evolve.

Dear passengers, we're about to start. Mind the gap!

Episodes “The Gumbus” and “Mrs. Cuddles”.

I think it would be appropriate to analyze these episodes in bunch, because they have common situations of spooky supernatural stuff and reactions of characters to this.

When you watch these two eps in raw, it's easy to see how alike are reactions of Donnie and April in some scary, really odd situations.

Adrenaline ‘n’ reclessness

April is really into all spooky things in “The Gumbus”, she's not afraid of some creepy stuff and she's really brave girl who easily copes with stressful and life-threatening situations.

Donnie is incredibly calm and collected when alive doll talked to him.

But still, April was frightened about plush rabbit because it was really unexpected for girl, she wasn’t ready to realize that plush doll that she’d worked with is alive fear-eating monster who will hurt and intimidate to get their precious screams. But point remains: Donnie and April share crazy fearlessness, which turns into an adrenaline addiction.

And here I am, a science guy, who tell you: adrenaline is a big deal for our body. This hormone can even provoke an onset of romantic feelings. Chemistry and anatomy come to fill the gaps: when a person is afraid, their pulse quickens, a cocktail of hormones is releasing into the blood, which sharpen the senses and reflexes. It will create a strong emotional bound, that's important for maintaining romantic kind of feelings. The more impressions there are (even negative ones), the higher the chance that person will remember his|her partner, and want to see them again – the body gets hooked on adrenaline, like a drug.

That’s why D&A have so strong, unshakeable boundaries. They are so alike: their attitude to scary things, the way Donnie and April cope with them, the adrenaline addiction their share. They even express feelings the same way.

And one tiny detail: April and Donnie start the teasing Raph for his fear of mrs. Cuddles. So they become the first victims of plushie.

Friendly reminder: they were the 1st victims, and what’s happened with them we don’t know, because it wasn’t shown due to not ruin the atmosphere of suspense.

But we have a beautiful quote of mrs. Cuddles and this precious shot which explain everything

Raph: Where’s Donnie?

Cuddles: In a happy place where he’ll scream and I can grow forever and now you’re gonna join him!

In a happy place, huh? Tied up with April in Splinter’s bedroom, a really happy place. Hold a sec, are they -

And after that Donnie’s responding is killing me.

Donnie:[OS] I'm afraid of togetherness.

Yep. All normal here. We should continue.

"Operation Normal" even though doesn't show a lot of interactions between April and Donnie, however continues the general outline highlighting the topics that were mentioned earlier in the show.

Firstly, April's relationship with her classmates. We're able to see how poor her scholar life is in "Hypno Part Deux" and "The Purple Jacket". She has no "normal", human friends except some strange remora guy, more like acquaintance than friend, though. But still, having "be normal" kick she's fine with Donnie's weirdness ( Mikey is always beyond all normal comprehension, Raph goes weird while he's alone, without brothers, and his fear of miss Cuddles is no big deal to fam, Leo didn't show any weird stuff during the series, like, reeeeal weird, m'kay?).

Conversation between April and Donnie at pizza spot

Really interesting and smooth scene. We’ve got Donatello who stares at April while he’s waiting his favourite pizza, no big deal.

And his legs.

If a person is interested in you, during a conversation, they will put their right foot forward (a left-handed person is more likely to put their left foot forward) in order to close the distance between you. - Check.

being in company, peson will point the sock at the most pleasant interlocutor for them. - check.

April’s legs are ponted at Donnie. Checkmate.

Yeah, April is hanging out with Donatello and Leonardo, but the main focus of hers is on Donnie.

All these scene makes me think that Donnie, knowing about how badly sometimes April wants to be normal, is up to help her overcome this. Fight fire with fire: fill up her life with all of this weird, mystic stuff so it will be normal with time. Regular people go to pizza spot to spend some quality time together, so we have pizza restaraunt here, in Hidden City. Make all odd normal, and problem will solved.

Donnie really tries his best, look at his face. Dee’s fine with all this bizzare things what happens to April, he’s fine with her. But still he fails, because April’s concept of normalcy differs drom Donnie’s.

And again, for Donnie it’s not a problem at all. He’s always was at the opposite side of normalcy and it doesn’t matter for him if April is in the same boat with him. Cause, as I said, Don’s fine with that.

Second, how much Donnie knows about April.

- Scoff! Are you really still on this whole "I want things to be normal" kick?

- Yes, what big city girl doesn't have a kayak and has hazmat suit?

Interesting detail here: this line launches Donnie’s flashback (because the first scene is from “Purple Jacket”, it’s Dee’s episode, obviously). And Don, as far as I can tell, has in his flashback moments with April when she did something reaaally impressive. His face is way more louder than any words.

- Short answer: no. Long answer: nnooooooooo.

- Oh, no! You know how April freaks out around the cosplay wizards!

These tiny lines are containing a lot of background, stories, intimate conversations that April and Donnie share. This show always does the same trick: we never see a direct action, we are only able to see a result or statement of the result. But series do a great work telling us with such small and imperceptible gestures that their bonding at this point is mutual. Not only D tells April about his inventions, family and fam's issues he has and even his falls, mistakes and failures. April does the same thing, sharing with Donatello one of the most important things to her. Problem that really bothers her.

C'mon, he'd even memorized Sunita's name, though April messed up with this situation a bit. It seems Donnie memorizes facts about April - he remembered the wi-fi password from old April's work as we can see in "The Longest fight" (he could hack it easily, he's a genius, why he's been keeping in mind some piece information that useless for a year? It doesn't make any sense)

Oh, and that. Just a coincidence, I guess?

Just alike suits, no big deal. Plus, the whole family has it (and something tells me that guys have suits at the behest of Don, so probably April does). But Donnie and April has a lot in common like emotional expressions, reaction about some kind situations, fight style and even tastes in fashion.

Also, it seems like Donnie's been watching April for sometimes.

While Leo was hiding in trash can, to not catch anyone's eye rather than April. He definitely couldn't know who was passing by, but there was Donnie to observe from above. That's why he was hanging down the stairs when Leo spoke to April.

It’s not the first time Donnie dress up as old lady to monitor April’s day.

Leo: Why do you always make us dress up as old ladies? Donnie: №1: confort, №2: to blend in as we monitor April’s day for max normalcy.

3. Even when D took away this cosplay wizard, he's still keeping eye on her.

Oh no, you don’t. Grandmas here!

Donatello changes his foe to save April exactly. He fought all evening with Brutus, but when April slightly gets in danger, Donnie just attacked anyone who has intention to hurt her and ruin her evening.

Is that a flying turtle in an old purple dress?

April, who all evening was trying to look “normal”, hiding her real friends because they are mutant turtles and pretending that nothing unusual happens here, finally gives up when Sunita mentioned Donnie. Even though new April’s friend has asked her before about Leo.

His eyes.

Donnie is really impressed but what he saw, and the reason - April O'Neil.

The episode "Warren & Hypno, sitting in a Tree" is another incredible piece of whole picture.

Turtle tank is decorated for April birthday in purplish scheme, definetely Donatello's work.

Dee's nonverbal speech.

• He seems more interested and softer than usual looking at April. It's easy to say comparing him with brothers. Mikey is in anticipation of fun mode, Leo relaxed and show his "whatever it will be fun" attitude, Raph is listening carefully, but still, Donnie could just turn his head in April's vouce direction, not a whole body.

• Warren felt Don's gaze while talked with April, so worm made the remark. Pay attention to the construction of the frame of neighboring scenes. The second frame is April's perspective. And Don is looking namely at her.

Indignation. Disappointment. Spark, storm, madness (i love this russian meme, sorry not sorry)

• Donnie seems sincerely sorry for this situation with April's b-day. And again, this soft gaze and "Raph, shut the shell up, your nonsense is upsetting her"-eyes.

• Donatello is kind of person, who’s avoiding a proper confrontation, so he rarely stands up for someone. He were remaining silent, when Raphael tried to cheer April in the most radiculous way, but when Hypno tried to play with April’s feelings, Donnie blew it.

He’s obviously in wrath as D emote that expressively. Yeah, he had much on his plate at April’s birthday, but it’s her b-day on the line, not his pride.

Warren used April, playing with her fan feelings. Her idol betrayed her, she was locked up in a cage, and now we have Hypno who wants to use her again by pitting and pushing for her compassion, because, it’s obvious - boys would do everything she said.

And Donnie tries to keep Hypno away from her, protect her feelings from another betrayal.

As he’s already stated - “For you, anything”.

The show always tells us: if you wanna trigger Don, bring April in.

Hypno tried to turn this thing around, Leo did the same in “Al be back”.

If Hypno-tamus did that accidentally as he found out that April O’ Neil is a birthday girl, so her wishes that day were laws, Leo did it on purpuse.

Leo is good at manupulating and pulling some strings, plus he knows his twin as back of his hand. That’s why Leo mentioned April in the end as she was always the most powerful argument, the reason and motive for Donnie. At second he’s even panicked, but remained calm. He almost blew up his coolheaded image because of one certain girl in yellow.

• Donnie is really happy to present Warren's arm to April. He even holds it like a rare, priceless treasure. D is really proud of himself right now: he saved the day, after all. The emotional reaction of hers is exactly what Donnie wants to get. And then, his final pose, while April is on 9th cloud from happiness - that's really territorial gesture, D claims his supremacy and confidence, telling "See? That's my happy birthday girl".

Leapfrog with a composition

Donnie and April are more and more eager to be together in the frame. Composition’s boners, m’kay.

Special ride for April

Yeah, Donnie used to offer his battleshell to give April a special ride. It even has a seat and handlebars for her comfort. She can control the flight as well as Donatello, they are like co-pilots. But he never carried her on his back before.

Usually, April is carried by Raphael, on his neck/shoulder, and she’s fine with it. Raph is strong enough to carry her without any difficulties or slowing down.

It’s not Donnie’s weak to carry her - no, he strong enough to carry his battleshell with a lot stuff in it everyday, Don can carry Splints on his shoulder without any apparent difficulty. He strong enough to hold the weight of his battleshell+April. Oh, c’mon, D assembled the Turtle tank only by himself and this for sure requires a lot of physical strength in order to engage in auto mechanics. Try lifting the wheel with tyre, and you'll see what I mean. Of course, there is a jack, but it will not solve all the problems. Don could use hydraulics and Archimedes ' laws, but I'm sure he did most of it with his own hands. Lifting and carrying, all by himself.

Not the strengh what’s matter but another point.

The sequence where Donnie carries April on his back doesn’t last long, it’s pretty easy to miss, while Raph openly do that with April on him.

Plus April’s gaze: she’s staring right at us with her “ninja-eyes” as if they were caught in the middle of something. The duration and length of the sequence, the way it is made all of this arouse certain thoughts.

It’s like nobody should see this. Too personal. To be more specific - too close and intimate?

Donnie stated a few times that he’s not into togetherness, tactile interaction and phisical side of contacts. Although he's fine with his brothers, don't forget that April is a girl. Even if she feels like part of family, she’s not his relative. She’s not his sister.

Some people tend to avoid physical contact with the objects of their interest. And this behaviour fits in Don’s character. He’s anxious type with a lot of psychological and emotional issues. Yeah, he tries to cover it up, built a shell to protect himself, behave as confident extravert but he’s nothing like that. Sometimes D tends to distance himself from his family, to hide in his shell, and we've seen that throughout the show.

Don hangs by his phone quite often, he addicted to this as his comfort zone, his peaceful cave, where everything is much easier,

Don pretends he’s so busy with his science stuff to ward off his brothers (ep. Mind Meld),

Don went to the lab to work on his projects, while he could hang out with April and the brothers (ep. Mrs. Cuddles). And he left for what? To work on self-cleaning tooth pick, or the titan bust of himself? It’s seems like lame excuse to be alone. He’s definetely an intovert, who sometimes needs some space and time with himself.

All his cocky behaviour is showing off to hide insecure, diffident and vulnerable creature, softshell purple turtle. Yeah, Donnie has confidence in what he’s great in: tech, science stuff, where he’s only one is capable of. But if someone steps on his domain or doubts his authority, his true colours exposed.

And, once again, “Mind meld” is a great evidence of that. Would callous, unsumpathetic guy without heart have a wall with pictures of his fellows? I’m afraid not. Donnie has a soft, caring heart.

There’s an alley of his the dearest moments, because photos - are always memory, precious moments we want to keep.

1 - from “Minotaur Maze”. Don loves good pizza, loves his brothers, and they have a little adventure together. Yeah, this photo isn’t on champ wall, but still.

2 - from “Mascot melee”. Important day for bros as they show themselves to people at daylight to rescue Raph and their operation to buy a new robe for his father. It’s their joint brothers dance, and D is loving to dance, remember? Definetely special occasion.

3 - from “Mascot melee”. Splints was really glad to receive a gift from boys. And Donatello, as we know, is always eager to achive for pop’s approval. This for sure must be in his precious moments collection.

5, 7 - from “Donnie’s gifts”. He even keeps a dorky photo, which Raph uses as profile pic at Donnie’s number.

8, 9 - “Down with the sickness”. It was funny to survive all the 7 stages to achive what boys wanted. They failed, but still.

10 - from “Al be back”. Who knows that Splints is so good at singing?

4, 6 - from “The Fast and the Furriest”. Strange choice, cuz, you know, photos ten seconds before his collision with April bat?

And yeah, he HAS April’s photo here. And at this pic it’s April, and April alone,without his brothers.

Don’s a real softie, see?

And avoiding physical contact is a way to protect Donnie’s already shattered self-esteem. To not cause any doubts in front of girl which he’s interested in. That’s possible reason why we did not receive any heartwarming hugs in “The Purple Jacket”.

But Donnie carries April, because it’s her birthday. On the one hand, the girl claims that her b-day is cursed, and Donnie could, by any chance, do something nice for her, and on the other hand - any request of the bithday girl - is the law, as we could see earlier.

Gift for birthday girl

There is no Donnie in the scene after Draxum throw off Warren's arm. While Raph comfort April about her birthday, Donnie was looking for it to present it to April.

He knows the best what is the most precious gift for her. Warren Stone, her idol, goat of making news; she have been in Stoneheads fanclub for 9 years. Also, it seems that Donnie is the one of turtles, who collected info about this worm.

Also, he stopped immediately when April stepped between them and show no disappointing (remind you about Donnie's sadistic science guy nature). The reason is April.

And another cute detail: their glasses are the same form.

Another episode "Mystic library" has slightly touched D&A interaction. But were talking about Apritello, it's all hints but quality.

When Mayham trapped in the mirror and Raph, Leo and Mikey obviously are not coping, April decides to call Donnie to clear situation up.

Donnie, mister "I ruin everything", she's going to call for help. I repeat this. April calls for help Mr. Science to solve mystic problems with her pet. MYSTIC PET.

And he AGREES.

Turtles dissuade their friend from calling Donatello but after a while, April returns with Donnie, and sees the bathroom in ruins.

I'm gonna clear this moment.

1. April haven’t called Donnie.

2. Some time later she returns with Dee.

3. Our girl is pretty shocked to see her bathroom in ruins, argo she didn't see/hear Raph chose to solve problem with smashing.

It must mean only ine thing: April went for Donnie by herself. We don't know where was he, we don't know what the reason April brought Donnie with her by herself, 'cause we know that if she call Dee, he will definitely get to her immediately.

Something is definetely off.

By the way, April changed Don’s profile pic.Yeah, the first one is very informative since Donnie is a turtle and he’s purple and he has bandana. Seems like April have done it by herself, editing the photo of real turtle. She didn't put a lot of effort into this, this image doesn't show her real attitude towards Don. But second is more personality-tinged. Sleeping Donatello in all his gear - this detail can tell us about only one thing - he was photographed when he fell asleep after his sleepless night(s) working hard at something - is something she can catch or receive by boys (namely speaking, it’s Leo, according to Ben Schwartz stated in an interview, that if Leo had an Instagram account, that 60 to 70% of his photos would be his brothers caught sleeping or slipping on things). And still. April has a dorky and little embarrassing pic of Donatello and this is... Interesting and cute?

This profile pic remind me about ROTTMNT: Sound off! (2nd issue)

The next station is “The Purple Game”.

Another episode in which the interaction of the characters is small in timing, but great in content.

And once again: they have a lot in common. I’d never tired of repeating this thing ‘cause the series do the same trick, showing one thing from different points of view. April and April shares the same taste in games, the same attitude, the same mojo.

But the most important thing here is how D&A interacrions are shown in this episode. Unlike other episodes, the interaction here is indirect, is provided by gaming.

Their customized avatars reflects their personality. I mean, the colour schemes (though Donatello has never shown any interest in yellow, he used it for customization of his persona), the way their avatars looking. Game even refering to Sherlock_Corn as “she”, albeit it’s impossible to refer to her avatar in female pronoun. Because, you know, design and nickname?

And the in-game interaction of the avatars resembles D&A irl relationships. Bootyyyshaker 9000 don’t like togetherness, he’s looking like Donnie’s expectation of himself (cool and tough guy, as D sees himself in his own dreams)

Their dialogue

Actually. Actually, Donnie and April are not able to hear each other as game has no voice chat, but their lines make an perfect dialogue nevertheless.

April:Bootyshaker9000? Donnie?

Donnie:April? You’re the last person I need to destroy to achive rank №1!

April:Ditto!

Both:There can only be one!

Donnie said the cheat combination, so April would know for sure what he is supposed to do, but she has no idea.

So, once again: their sync is incredible.

And can we talk about that?

April’s attack

As it seems, attacks may be customized by players. Bootyyshaker has attack that refers at Donatello main feature - superior intellect.

And this attack isn’t effective, because REAL April O’Neil has a resist towards it. She has known D for years, she knows what he’s capable of, she’s aware of his nerd side. April’s immune to it, so Sherlock_Corn is.

Sherlock_corn has a default attack - kernel cannon. It’s nod to her nickname: kernel, corn, the same book. But her second atteck is something reflecting her personalitiy. Plus, April is aware of Donnie’s “fear” of togetherness. All’s fair in love and war, right?

April took a lot of BS9000 hp by her “friendly hugs”. And, by the way, his sweet reaction for hugs.

So:

The selection of the final opponent. It might be literally anyone, but we wouldn’t be able to see Dee’s obsession in that case. Yeah, he’s already had a demon possesion ™, but it was too easy to him to win. No challenge. No “kill or be killed”, “It’s me or you” mojo. He needed some tough gamer for challenging, to develop his character, push him too far. And April, actually, is an excellent choice to reveal the character of certain purple turtle.To expose his true colours. And April do a great job: they know each other, so battle will be spicy, they are both compepitors, they are so alike, so it would be intersting to watch Donatello vs April. And it will, ‘cause In-game April and In-game Don is somewhat different than them usual.

April is Don’s slayer for sure. She’s good at gaming, her last attack was almost fatal for him. So he had to to cheated on her.

Captain Cuddlecakes. Yes, she know about his afraid of togetherness. And there’s lovey-dovey attack animation with this cuddling and Donatello’s persona behaves like him. And it was SPECIAL RUN, so... I haven’t the foggiest why. Cute detail, I mean.

Just look at it. Isn’t it cute?(at least we got their hugs somewhere... kinda. kinda.)

“Snow Day“, albeit being family episode, shows a lot about D&A relationship through “family war”.

First of all, the same taste in films.

Donnie’s already shown the same attitude to fashion, scary things as Cap O'Neil, April shares the same gamer’s mojo as Donatello, but now? We have Donnie and April that are loving the same movie.

For love of purple supernovas, of all the Jupiter Jim’s movies (and there are more than 60 of them), that's a convinient coincidence, they like the same movie.

It stated in series several times that Dee is fond of Atomic Lass. He had crush on her when he was child, he admires her by all his heart, so it will make sense if films with this character he would be his favourite. It’s logical, isn’t it?

Atomic Lass, even if she is part of JJ-universe, however, isn't in every movie. Leo described "JJ: Pluto vacation IV" and there is no sights of Atomic Lass. Like, at all.

Nevertheless, April’s claimed that “PV-4” is the best movie of the time, and Don agrees.

April:What the whaaaat? Hold up, Skip. “Jupiter Jim Pluto Vacation 4″ is the best JJ movie of all time.

Donnie:Ranked, by us, just now. So it’s basically official, no arguing.

And they do this thing again. Reflecting each other. Facial expressions, intonations, poses and etc. Haven’t I mentiones that? Mirroring is natural way to build communication. People, who communicate enthusiastically, who have sympathy to each other, feelings of certain nature, unconsciously copy each other's poses.

Direct reflection and close contact have a strong effect. This is used between lovers, people with close relationships or interested in each other.

And you can see that during not only episode, but through the whole series.

Poses, gestures, facial expressions they share constantly. Even if they are apart, they are mirroring each other, showing their bound. Because Apritello is not always about sitting close, holding hands and blushing. Apritello is about staying together even if they are not. It’s about solid foundation, about synergy, about chemistry Donnie and April share. And all of these are not always so obvious and clear, evident. But so realistic nevertheless.

And that’s why they splitted off the fam - they are too close and alike.

I stated it before but DonniexApril team is way more effective than Donniexbrothers team. Donatello and April are equal, worth each other. They are comfortable with each other, their teamwork is amazing.

They are always near, close to each other for the entire episode. Stand up for each other, side by side. They have no need to do team-building, because their sincronization is incredible. April works well together with Donnie, their skills compliment each other.

I love that April in a first place look at Donnie to check is everything alright.

And a cherry on top?

This inviting gesture. Donnie just watched all along how his brothers and April try to throw some cold water on this situation (khem, it slipped). But when April call him with this inviting gesture, he’d like to help.

In other words, he was waitng when April requests for his help.

Composition’s boners

Sometimes it happens during the show, but this episode beat hte score at this point. I say only one word: physics. Or, more precisely, the force of attraction. Or, maybe Mayham.

... Anyway.

Fitting in the type

April can play not so nice against her enemies, she got steady hand and meanness, merciless and reclessness. She’s passionate and kinda badass, sassy - in a positive way, she’s baddest girl who can kick your butt if you mess with her, and she really good at this.

She has a fire, and Donnie likes that. Dee never stated that directly but miss O’Neil impressed him so many times and in different way so it’s kinda pretty obvious.

Just look how Donatello reacted the way April took Raph down a peg. Her actions are elegant, relaxed but really sly. She almost dare Raph to put his flag on top only to bring him down to Earth in really painful way. She destroyed Bros’ team so easily just by waiting a bit and by calling Mayham.

She’s definetely got some pepper.

Pretty cute but baddest, don’t you think?

And Donnie was impressed for sure, he admitted it - “That is fun for me”. He don’t even stand a chance, c’mon: she’s smarass and elegant, she can be mean and cute at the same time.

Even though that’s it for season 1 analysis (the last series is more appropriate to review as part of 2nd season, plus it was a reaally big post, I need some time)

You can refresh this whole situation in the car 1 and the car 2 or follow the hashtag #apritello express as you please. It’s a pleasure of mine, keep in touch :)

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theseshipsshallsail · 3 years

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The sound he makes sends a shiver down Oliver’s spine, heat pooling low in

his belly as he crowds Elio up against the brickwork. He’s so close he could count his freckles in the moonlight, trace the rough patch of stubble on his unshaven chin. It’s a moment suspended in time - a fantasy come to life - and the tightly bunched muscles of Oliver’s forearms are a testament to just how badly it affects him.

Taking that final step he presses him against the wall, a low growl of want rumbling in his chest as he covers his mouth in a searing kiss. Elio gasps, meeting him with equal measure, and Oliver swallows down his smug laughter, reminding himself to breathe. He’s never considered himself the reckless type, but the phantom sighs of Elio’s pleasure ring in his ears as he grinds the evidence of his surrender over his thigh, and the ease with which he dismisses the drudgery wrapping up mere metres away settles in his gut in a manner that’s somewhat alarming.

“You did that on purpose,” he says, nipping at the blush-red lip that’s been tormenting him all throughout dinner.

Where Elio produced the lollipop from he had no idea, but Oliver has been sporting a semi for the better part of an hour as he curled his tongue around the candy, shooting him self-satisfied looks whenever he shifted in his seat.

“Who, me?” Elio asks, and if Oliver didn’t know better, he’d sound like innocence personified.

“Yes, you.” His nostrils flare at the artificial scent of peaches in the air between them. “And in front of your parents, no less.”

“Diabolique.”

“You little libertine.” Releasing Elio’s waist, Oliver circles his naval with a thumb before plucking at the loose waistband of his shorts. “Your mother’s not as blind as you might think,” he warns, and the little shit just shoots him a smirk.

“If only I’d warned you how little I know about the things that really matter.” Elio tips his chin up, chasing another kiss, but Oliver denies him as he moves his fingers downwards, almost, but not quite, touching the thin barrier that keeps him from his prize. “Non è giusto! You tease.”

“Takes one to know one,” Oliver says, dropping to his knees in the shadows of the bushes to skim his nose over the tented material, earning a quickly muffled groan.

He really shouldn’t be doing this, but Elio’s hard for him already, the thin cotton damp with his excitement, and there’s only so much a man can take.

“Toccami, per favore.”

Oliver peers up, and the eyes staring back at him are blown wide. Black as the night that shrouds them. His whole body is singing, every nerve-ending alight. It’s a battle to keep his composure when Elio whimpers, dropping a hand to graze his index finger over Oliver’s bottom lip, and the longing contained within is what finally breaks him.

“Touch you?” Oliver says, swiping his tongue over the digit that plays him with the same precision as any instrument. “I can’t stop touching you, you little siren.”

In the blink of an eye he tugs Elio’s shorts down to his knees, allowing gravity to do the rest as he leans in to nuzzle at the sweat-damp hair of his crotch. The musk of his arousal damn near floors him, and banding an arm around Elio’s waist he draws him nearer, dropping an almost chaste kiss to the beading tip of his erection.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Elio mumbles, grabbing at Oliver’s hair. “Do you hear me complaining?”

“Me? No,” Oliver replies, lapping at the sensitive head. “But someone will hear something if we’re not careful.” Pulling back, he drags his fingernails over the valley between hip bone and groin. “Think you can be quiet?”

Elio’s gaze darts in the direction of the unseen garden table, as if only now remembering where they are. “I don’t know.”

“Try.”

“Lo farò.” Elio nods frantically, then bites the inside of his cheek as Oliver takes him into his mouth. They’ve only tried this a few times, and Oliver has to suppress a sound of his own when Elio bucks forward, hitting the back of his throat. “Scusa! Sorry!”

But Oliver isn’t complaining in the slightest. He thought he knew himself, yet with Elio by his side he’s discovering something revolutionary every day. He experiments, endlessly fascinated by the fullness, the stretch, the way his jaw starts to ache as he concentrates on keeping it wet and tight. He sucks in a lungful of air as he glances up, and Elio’s chest is heaving. He’s close, he can tell, so Oliver braces a palm over his abdomen when he feels him start to buckle.

“Easy,” he whispers, adjusting himself in his slacks, then gently fondles Elio’s balls as he bobs his head once again, taking in more and more with each return.

Oliver wraps his hand around the base, and Elio hums in satisfaction when his lips eventually meet his knuckles. Swirling his tongue, he moves them both in tandem, adding a careful scrape of teeth as his fingers dart behind Elio’s sack, seeking his entrance. He’s still loose from their afternoon siesta, and it’s the work of a moment to slip two inside, a third joining them when Elio twitches against his tongue.

A drumbeat of nervous excitement thunders inside his head, and with a hasty warning Elio seems to swell even further in the split second before Oliver’s taste buds are flooded with flavour. He swallows quickly, keeping his movements steady to prolong Elio’s enjoyment, and it’s only the sound of distant conversation that stops him from crowing in triumph.

“Delicious,” he says, kneeling back with a wink, and Elio blinks down at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”

Elio doesn’t bother to explain, just urges him to his feet and hauls him into a determined kiss, chasing the taste of himself from Oliver’s mouth. Helpless, he answers back in kind, grasping a fistful of curls to angle Elio’s head, then grunting in surprise when an ankle hooks behind his knee, jerking him forward. His hardness is cradled at the apex of Elio’s thighs when he reaches down between them, and the sound of his zipper is too loud even over their panting breaths.

“I want you.”

“You have me.”

“Inside,” Elio demands, easing him free of his underwear, and Oliver shudders as he strokes him in one smooth motion.

“We shouldn’t. Not here.”

It’s a token protest at best, but Elio shakes his head in negation. “Yes, here,” he insists, nuzzling into his shoulder. “We’ve already wasted so much time.”

There’s something viciously honest in his tone, and Oliver frowns as the words penetrate the fog of his libido. “Not wasted,” he says, brushing a kiss to Elio’s cheek in reassurance. “We needed that time to figure out what we wanted.”

“I did,” Elio tells him defiantly. “I do.” Brows knit, he hops into the air, and Oliver catches him without thinking. “I know what I want, Americano. The question is, do you?”

“Elio...” He can hear voices further down the path, but even that isn’t enough to deter him as he positions his cock at his spit-slick rim. “Are you sure?” he asks, and when Elio squirms impatiently Oliver can only hope his t-shirt will offer enough protection as he sheathes himself inside him, causing his back to scrape against the wall.

There’s a groan against his throat, gentle suction over his Adam’s apple, and Oliver drops his forehead to Elio’s collarbone as he holds him in place, not thrusting, just rocking deeply.

How can he sound so certain when the future is anything but? Tomorrow is an abstract concept when all they have is here and now, yet here and now Oliver has never been happier, and he can’t bear for it to end. Maybe it’s because he’s beyond the scope of his family’s expectations, but he hasn’t felt this free in years. Yes, the sword of Damocles is poised above their heads, but Elio is in his arms, welcoming him into his body, holding him, kissing him, making his heart dance to a tune of his own, so maybe the reason is irrelevant.

Maybe tomorrow can go fuck itself.

“Oliver, please…”

He can’t get close enough, and the muted whines in Oliver’s ear spur him into action, pistoning in and out as Elio’s flagging erection perks up in interest. He won’t last, but he’s determined to bring Elio off twice, and cradling his ass with one palm he uses the other to jerk him steadily, straddling the thin line between pleasure and overstimulation.

It’s both thrilling and terrifying, but filthy promises spur him onwards, and just as Oliver’s balls contract his fist is coated with Elio’s second release. Wildfire surges through his veins as he pushes in one last time, the rhythmic clenching around his cock causing him to see stars when he sinks to his knees, taking Elio with him.

Plato had the right of it, he decides, clutching him tight enough that not even Zeus could split them apart. Four arms, four legs, a head with dual faces?

They are one.

Two halves of a whole.

He loves him - even if he’s not yet brave enough to speak it - and as Oliver whispers his own name against Elio’s temple he defies the universe itself to even try and separate them again.

#cmbyn #fanfic #elio x oliver #shameless smut

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the-lightning-strikes-again · 3 years

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Pacific Rim (2013) and the Chance to Try Again

So I re-watched Pacific Rim (2013), per an anon’s request that I write a Pacific Rim-based Voltron AU. And I know this movie is clearly a love song to mecha genre as its ultimate goal. But in re-watching Pacific Rim in 2021, an odd moment really spoke to me. It was how badly Mako Mori struggled in her official debut in Gipsy Danger, how dangerous her triggered reaction was to other people around her, and yet how Raleigh Becket had an empathetic reaction that helped Mako get back up, resulting in her ability to reclaim her agency against a reputation as a traumatized failure.

I guess a little background to explain further, and why this meant so much to me:

So here’s this Asian woman who’s been asking for years for her chance to prove herself. She’s been told by her guardian, Marshall Stacker Pentecost, that she will fail to function in a drift setting because of her inexperience with reigning in emotions/a need for vengeance. But Mako Mori finally gets the chance to be a co-pilot, finally connects to a very real drift inside a very real jaeger…and then, oop. Becket has a negative reaction to his own memories and falls out of phase. This sets up Mori, who is unexperienced in handling this situation, to “chase the RABIT.” She has a genuinely traumatic breakdown that nearly kills her own comrades in the Shatterdome. She unintentionally activates Gipsy Danger’s weapons to protect herself from the ghosts of her own memories.

The team has to actually shut down the jaeger to protect themselves from being annihilated.

Upon shaking out of the drift, Mako Mori knows she has validated Pentecost’s fears and judgements about her. She is pretty sure she’s lost her chance to achieve her goals.

And clearly, her father figure Stacker Pentecost—who does love her and is as such overprotective—has been struggling the whole time with accepting Mori in a jaeger. The standard Toxic Masculinity figure of Chuck Hansen has a hissy fit that Mori is too inexperienced, and he actively tries to get her pushed out too, even accusing Becket of standing up for Mori only because he thinks Raleigh has romantic interest in her.

But it’s Raleigh…this very masculine dude with the somewhat over pronounced man-strut in his step lol, who does something that I really appreciated seeing.

After everything, Becket fights for Mori’s reinstatement when Mori has lost faith in herself and is trying not to break down in shame. And then he sits by her and actively tries to empathize with her about how rough a drift can be.

And Raleigh doesn’t do this because he thinks she’s pretty, or because he’s trying to take pity on Mori as some kind of male savior for her weak emotional constitution. This is the guy who is most likely to die first if Mori screws up in real-time, and this is the guy who can acknowledge that he helped set Mori into a no-win situation.

And unlike Pentecost (who initially wants to protect Mori at the cost of her own agency) and Hansen (who believes Mori is too incompetent to function above reproach), Becket knows what Mori was capable of. He believes in her 51 drops, 51 kills simulator score. He believes in her physical and intellectual capabilities based off his interactions with her, which are things that both Pentecost and Hanson immediately forget when Mori fails her first real drift and endangers people.

Becket knew what Mori could do if people just…invested in her and gave her a chance, now that she knew what drifting was like. He saw his own struggles in her and empathized with her as a human being. He takes some responsibility even over the fact that she was not simply made aware of/prepared for what she could face in that drift while also being hooked up to a weapon of mass destruction. Because as we see later in the film, once Mori knows what to expect, she can function very well as a co-pilot.

Had Raleigh not believed in her, had Pentecost tried to permanently ground her out of fearful love, and had Mako Mori herself accepted a reality where she was only a failure—the kaiju would have absolutely decimated multiple cities. Because Mori did not remain tied to her initial failure, the resistance lived to fight another day.

The more I thought about the fall and rise of Mako Mori in this 2013 film, the more I really appreciated those moments.

Because if a woman makes a mistake and big-time screws up their debut, it’s usually a death knoll, and even more so if that woman is already living in an environment that makes her a second-class citizen to begin with. People often act like a Chuck Hansen and write her off as incompetent/dangerous, or they pull a Pentecost and assume her to be too weak/too emotional to be of use. There’s not a lot of forgiveness for a woman. Whereas, there’s generally a lot more forgiveness for a man to screw around on the goodwill that he has potential. So it’s pretty rare to see a woman mess up as Mori did, especially in an emotional, traumatized way with such potential consequences…and to see someone still fighting to reach out to her. To empathize with her. To offer her the second chance they knew she could handle.

So it hit me that when the computer in the movie asked, “Drift sequence terminated. Would you like to try again?” and no one answered, Raleigh Becket didn’t have to. Because he had already answered yes, and he had been saying yes for every second he was trying to reach Mori.

And as the movie unfolds, yeah it might be redundant that Raleigh talks to her out loud while they’re fighting. But he takes actual time to warn and prepare her for what they’re facing—because he’s been here before in the real world, and she hasn’t. He’s trying to keep her in the present and to keep himself grounded too so he personally doesn’t bog her down. And it’s in this environment that we see Mako Mori absolutely bloom into one of the best jaeger pilots the world has ever seen, not including that she’s part of the first team to ever single-handedly take down two category four kaiju in one night. And furthermore, we see a Mako Mori who doesn’t just internalize her emotions. She uses those emotions to carry on the fight and to rally Becket to another charge, even when he believes they’re out of options.

So I guess to wind down this rambling meta, I felt that this wild and fun movie contained some content that, whether intended or not, spoke to me today in a new way I hadn’t seen it as before. I thought it was pretty cool how in this movie, women can rise above a failure and try again, successfully even. The message that men can feel empathy with a woman or understand their struggles is still wildly progressive in today’s world, where it’s more acceptable for women to empathize with men than the other way around. The message that trying to understand helps everyone rise together is lit. And I didn’t really expect to be flailing over this movie and this concept in 2021, but here we are, lol.

#Pacific Rim #Mako Mori #Raleigh Becket #Stacker Pentecost #Chuck Hansen #fandoms #mechas #empathy #failure #gender dynamics #I watched to think about a Voltron AU but got caught up in how I felt Pacific Rim did some pretty cool stuff #some things that i've been craving being in fandoms where if a female character isn't perfect then she's trash #it was really refreshing to return to Pacific Rim because it canonically grapples with that concept and rejects it #it says that a triggered and traumatized woman or an angry woman is valuable #she might even be the one to help save the world #I think Mako Mori and Princess Allura would get along well #BUT ALSO PACIFIC RIM UPRISING DOES NOT EXIST #I REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT MOVIE AS ANYTHING MORE THAN A TERRIBLE FANFIC #but yeah so anyway back to mecha movies and encouragement to try again even if you fail #that sometimes we can't help failing or are set up for failure #but that you can get back up #and try again #and that a failure or a trauma doesn't have to define a person's identity or capabilities #that's how this movie read to me today

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laniidae-passerine · 3 years

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okay went back to long post 2.0 and the Pictionary concept so now I’m going to create an insanely long list of Pictionary pair-ups and how they’d work in the cottage on game night

Here are all the people I presume would be allowed in for game night:

Reynie, Sticky, Kate, Constance, Martina, S.Q, Jackson, Jillson, Mr Benedict, Number Two, Rhonda, Milligan, Miss Perumal

Here we go! Reminder: this is crazy long so only about a sentence each unless I’m inspired

Reynie - Sticky: absolutely killing it, definitely come in second if not first because while neither of them can actually draw that well, they’re in tune with what the other person is trying to get across. even if it looks like nonsense to everybody else, they understand

Reynie - Kate: not amazing but pretty good! Half the time she doesn’t know what on earth he’s drawing or her gesturing is just confusing him even more but the other half? really accurate

Reynie - Constance: good but only because she has trained him in the art of Not Losing. Constance does not do the losing thing Reynie and she’s also not bad at drawing so they’re getting by okay

Reynie - Martina: consists mainly of ‘uhhhhhhhh’ noises at each other and then a guess that’s kinda right. Dead bird is kinda a roast chicken right?

Reynie - S.Q: amazing perfect legendary! but not when Reynie is drawing. S.Q hasn’t seen a lot of things so it’s kinda hard for him to guess, especially when it’s all quite wobbly

Reynie - Jackson: fine, weirdly. Jackson is less intense than Jillson during game night so as long as they’re not coming last he can handle it.

Reynie - Jillson: she is yelling loudly and Reynie is a human question mark. He needs to learn that when it looks like a cornflake, it’s meant to be a bird

Reynie - Mr Benedict: really good! Reynie loves reading just like him so they kill it on the literature round and also Reynie and him are just messing about

Reynie - Number Two: eh? No money is being on them winning but they’re not. Appalling

Reynie - Rhonda: fun! Rhonda knows it’s just a game and Reynie is just a kid who wants to enjoy himself.

Reynie - Milligan: slightly stilted but Milligan is freakily accurate at guessing. He gets a massive hug at the end too which makes him feel very safe (you may guess which he I’m talking about)

Reynie - Miss Perumal: oh, fantastic. She’s encouraging of him and even when they mess up they end up giggling about it

Sticky - Kate: Kate has pulled 17 new facial expressions at Sticky’s drawings and he is astounded by the way she keeps guessing bucket. Somehow still in 3rd

Sticky - Constance: oddly good. Constance can be patient with Sticky and she coaxes out that side of him that Needs To Win. All of the adults sort of skipped over mean!Sticky so their faces are priceless when Sticky tells them they can suck it because he’s the goddamn best

Sticky - Martina: average because neither of them are world’s best drawer or guesser but they can muddle by

Sticky - S.Q: great!!! Sticky has encyclopaedic knowledge and S.Q is a fantastic drawer! also terrible because S.Q doesn’t know what many basic things are and Sticky can’t draw for shit

Sticky - Jackson: cordial and calm, doing pretty alright. Two rather formal children with a pen it might feel a bit like a meeting between people trying to come up with new ideas for Pictionary rather than a game of Pictionary but they’re alright!

Sticky - Jillson: she is chasing him around the garden with a harpoon

Sticky - Mr Benedict: rather sweet, they’re failing miserably but at least they’re supporting each other all the way. To the bottom of the scoreboard though

Sticky - Number Two: competent but I feel like Number Two is not that great at Pictionary unless she’s teamed up with specific people

Sticky - Rhonda: let’s just enjoy ourselves :) maybe Sticky needs to give her a few hints though because optimism can only take them so far

Sticky - Milligan: even though Milligan is actually a really good guesser and drawer he takes the blame for every loss to make Sticky feel better because he thinks Sticky is very sweet

Sticky - Miss Perumal: weirdly this works. She knows what he’s trying to convey even if it’s just literal scribbly chaos and there’s even a chance of them doing well!

Kate - Constance: they are yelling violently at each other but if someone else dares insult one of them for being too bossy, prepare for their rage to be turned on you

Kate - Martina: banned from playing together. Pictionary should not be used as a vehicle for flirting and/or fighting about tetherball

Kate - S.Q: doing great!!! he’s amazing at drawing and she’s also pretty good too so they’re in with a high chance of winning

Kate - Jackson: weird dynamic. If she draws and he guesses, they’re doing good. Opposite way around and it’s not terrible but it is. Questionable

Kate - Jillson: two headstrong girls refusing to lose creates a team that is too busy arguing with each other to actually achieve anything. Luckily they admire the other person’s refusal to lose so they don’t stay mad at each other

Kate - Mr Benedict: her wild enthusiasm carries over to him and this is when you catch him actually getting competitive. Prepare to see the very minimal part of his nature that will remind you of his brother

Kate - Number Two: Kate has her head in her hands and Number Two at least has the decency to look a little ashamed

Kate - Rhonda: woooooooh girl power!!! c’mon let’s win this through the power of friendship (and end up in second still vibing)

Kate - Milligan: unified. He draws a line and she guesses it instantly. They’re the perfect father daughter team and he’s so proud of her that nobody can even be mad that they lost

Kate - Miss Perumal: okay! she’s very nice and Kate likes her so they get along well enough to achieve a good ranking

Constance - Martina: oh they understand each other. They’re above everyone else and they will win and they will rub it in S.Q’s face and then one of them will secretively give him a brownie slice if the jeering makes him feel bad

Constance - S.Q: oh she’s so pleased. She demands they win but because she cares about him (shut up) she will compliment all of his drawings in a veiled way. Of course she guessed it, she’s a genius and it’s also so obviously an airplane (translation: S.Q is very good at drawing and I believe in him)

Constance - Jackson: he’s afraid of her. However he will turn that fear into strength, mainly because that walking stick is way too close to Constance for his liking

Constance - Jillson: hell hath no fury like these two trying to win Pictionary. They will kill you and your mum and your dad and they are on the warpath. The only pairing so scary it makes S.Q draw appallingly

Constance - Mr Benedict: he can’t stop falling asleep when she insults him for being unable to guess accurately because he thinks she’s adorable and funny. He loves her so much and she’s secretly too happy about it to be mad

Constance - Number Two: who even knows what’s happening here? They sure don’t but whatever, Constance is willing to take the L, she wasn’t gonna win this one anyway

Constance - Rhonda: Constance has hidden respect for this woman. She will listen and pay serious attention to Rhonda while she is drawing and does her best to make it easy for her when it’s Rhonda’s turn to guess

Constance - Milligan: she’s still got insults left to give. Milligan is perhaps a little taken aback by the tiny child yelling at him but she’s a decent drawer so they’re getting along just fine (also she’s mean to anyone who is mean to him so he actually likes her)

Constance - Miss Perumal: you’d think Miss Perumal would be affronted by the rudeness but she actually just treats Constance with a lot of kindness in return. She apologises for getting things wrong, congratulates her for being a good drawer and so Constance is confused and actually. Stop working your magic on me you witch why am I so fond of you now

Martina - S.Q: hi bitchy S.Q we’ve missed you. They’re getting picky and irritated and being assholes to each other but they will win and they will totally high five when they do it. They have a victory song that Martina composed on a mandolin and it’s fifteen minutes long

Martina - Jackson: neither of them are afraid of the other. Will they use ‘I’M AN EXECUTIVE I’M BETTER THAN YOU!’ as a defence when they’re messing up? Yes. Is it completely useless? Also yes.

Martina - Jillson: you ever met two girls and seen them exchange a look and you know they just nonverbally said something bad about you but you’ve got no clue what it was? Now take that mean girl power and translate it into Pictionary. They’re gonna beat you so badly

Martina - Mr Benedict: something about the way that she’s so self assured and cocky makes him feel so happy that the cataplexy kicks in. He’s slid entirely off the sofa and when someone explains how that’s a good thing to Martina, she’s hiding a smile all night

Martina - Number Two: hand gestures and odd noises abound. Number Two can’t draw for shit but Martina refuses to give in so she will make them practice outside of game night so she can try understand what the hell Number Two is drawing

Martina - Rhonda: actually okay! not fantastic but Rhonda has such amazing vibes that Martina is learning to just relax and have fun

Martina - Milligan: he likes her. She’s occasionally mean and quite cocky, but she’s amiable to him and while she likely was at the start, she isn’t cruel or mocking towards him now. Yes he may be extremely tall and buff but the real matter at hand is if he can draw and thank god for the fact that he can

Martina - Miss Perumal: this child needs actual affection holy shit. C’mere Martina Miss Perumal will tell you that you’re funny and friendly instead of just smart. She ignores the actual game in favour of letting Martina feel cared for

S.Q - Jackson: terror from both of them but they think the other person has power. Jackson was told to leave the headmasters son alone and S.Q just thinks Jackson is scary so they’re playing a weird game of chicken where they both the chicken. Figure it out boys

S.Q - Jillson: when Jillson clocks that he’s a sweetheart she relaxes and then enters Oh We Will Win mode. S.Q is unnerved slightly but also it’s nice to be wanted with a borderline ‘I will be violent to other people if I don’t get him as my Pictionary partner’ intensity

S.Q - Mr Benedict: his nephew. Oh he loves him so much. Perfect boy, wonderful child. However this poses a slight problem because Benedict is talking too much about how amazing S.Q is and how much he loves him to actually guess what the object is. It’s okay though because they’re hugging by the end of it and that’s what matters

S.Q - Number Two: what is happening. Number Two can’t draw and S.Q has not seen most films or read most books or been beyond the island. He’s guessing bird 50% of the time

S.Q - Rhonda: oh they’re gonna win and Rhonda is on point with the positive reinforcement. Prepare to get a sweet chucked at you for every point you score S.Q

S.Q - Milligan: it’s odd because S.Q feels like he should be intimidated but he just feels safe. They’re doing very well together and it’s sweet to see the way that S.Q tentatively smiles when they do well and has the smile softly returned

S.Q - Miss Perumal: oh you want a mother? You want a mum? You want a brand new mum? What’s Pictionary do you need adoption papers? I can be your parent S.Q just sign here I love you

Jackson - Jillson: creepy twins out of the Shining x1000. Constance is not the only telepathic weirdo here. However if they hit a low streak they will start yelling at each other like little children

Jackson - Mr Benedict: uh. An adult being sincerely nice? Oh, yeah it’s fine. He’s fine. It’s cool. Does anyone have a tissue? also they’re doing decently, even if it’s hard for Jackson to see through happy tears

Jackson - Number Two: why are you both yelling at each other. None of this makes sense you’re not even being comprehensible anymore someone take the pen away from them

Jackson - Rhonda: good! Not much different to average people playing Pictionary it’s nice to watch

Jackson - Milligan: this man is TERRIYING. Jackson is afraid of him to the point where he kinda just stays weirdly quiet during rounds. Everyone is just waiting for him to realise that Milligan is an angel (when he does, they’re going to be a surprise powerhouse)

Jackson - Miss Perumal: she’s nice to him and it makes him wanna do well. Even when they do badly she’s still friendly to him and it’s good vibes all arounf

Jillson - Mr Benedict: this girl is insane. And he has a habit for thinking mean teenage girls are intensely funny so he’s not conscious almost every time she’s doing the guessing. On her end she’s just completely thrown by the Curtain clone thinking that she’s funny (…he really thinks that? Oh. That’s… fantastic, actually)

Jillson - Number Two: this works. The freaky teenager and the woman that she will one day be like are on the same wavelength so they’re actually guessing each other’s horrible drawings correctly. They’re so goddamn weird and yet winning. How the hell are they winning

Jillson - Rhonda: Why are you being nice? Stop It Now. No stop being friendly and kind and amusing. Shut up. (no don’t actually shut up you seem like the kind of person I wanna hang out with with)

Jillson - Milligan: this man is a social oddity. However she has spent more time on the Milligan Boat than necessary so she is starting to comprehend him. They’ll do fine

Jillson - Miss Perumal: okay Jillson is maybe one of the few people Miss Perumal just doesn’t get. But when she’s punched in the arm by Martina and told to be nice, they can actually get along fine and do quite well

Mr Benedict - Number Two: this is deranged. Perfection and insanity in one combination. They’re winning and Benedict has passed out but the answer was narcolepsy and technically that counts as correct. Everyone is losing their minds watching this occur

Mr Benedict - Rhonda: yeahhhhhh it’s time for two people who can’t stop giggling at each other. Everything is so funny to them and their positivity is infectious. Everyone can have been having the worst day of their lives but if game night rolls around and these two are a team? You’ll be happy by the end of it

Mr Benedict - Milligan: assured and calm. They know each other very well but their communication is a bit strange. Expect longggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg pauses and extended direct eye contact. It’s… really something however they’ll do well

Mr Benedict - Miss Perumal: the vibes are good with this one. For a man who often supports other, he’s a little thrown and very appreciative to have someone who treats him like he needs the support. She’s very kind to him.

Number Two - Rhonda: mainly Rhonda politely going ‘hmmmmmm. well. maybe…’ to make up for the fact that what Number Two is drawing is nonsense. Very ‘two sisters being unable to communicate and fighting about it’ until they inevitably reconcile

Number Two - Milligan: vibes. Doing well and nodding a lot at each other. He has very poetic ways of describing her awful drawings

Number Two - Miss Perumal: somebody try save Miss Perumal because none of this makes sense. No seriously is she dreaming did she eat cheese before bed

Rhonda - Milligan: actually they can both draw and they’re buddies. So it’s going pretty good and also they share Looks that have secret meaning so have fun figuring those out

Rhonda - Miss Perumal: if they are cheating via sign language that is none of your business. Stop reporting them for it you’re all so annoying god bless <3

Milligan - Miss Perumal: she’s a bit unnerved and then she gets to know him. Pretty good they connect over parenting and they can both draw so. Bisexual rights!

#tmbs #the mysterious benedict society #I put a stupid amount of time into this so sorry for any mistakes I may have skipped over #this is what I do I devote time to ridiculous things that nobody cares about in the new fandom I’m crazy about lmao and I love it about me #my sticky answers weren’t good enough I updated them because sticky deserves more. love him he’s my boy

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Spaces Between Us Chapter 11: Strong

The hardships of real life separated them six years ago, and Emma has been struggling to put that fact behind her ever since. But then, only after she’s convinced herself that she’s moved on and that her new life is enough, Killian Jones comes back.

A Captain Swan Modern AU

A/N: Oh no my hand slipped and I posted early again

This chapter was hard to write, and it might be hard to read. Some heavy stuff happens so please take care of yourself and read the warnings! As always, if you need more information, please please message me.

***This chapter includes a scene containing descriptions of domestic violence. Please message me for more details if you need to***

Thank you, as usual, to my beta and friend @the-darkdragonfly, and to @donteattheappleshook and @xhookswenchx for listening to my ramblings and helping me figure out the plot to this <3

Read the Rest

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

If there’s one thing Killian was not expecting when he woke up this morning, it was this. In fact, this has been the furthest thought from his mind for months. When Emma assured him that Henry is not his son, he believed her and forced himself to drop it.

He would gladly raise her child as his own, if she would allow him to do so. He would help them to escape her abusive husband, getting them out of the state entirely if he could, and he would act as a father figure to her boy.

But when she walks towards him in the hospital that afternoon, her eyes bloodshot and her face red and swollen as she cries some more, he hears the last thing he’d ever expected to hear.

“They want to do DNA testing,” she tells him softly, her voice croaking and rough in the aftermath of her violent sobs. “A… a paternity test.”

“Emma…” he tries, but nothing else will come out.

“I’m sorry. The pulmonologist says there's no way this is from him being premature. It’s really bad, and he says it’s got to be genetic.”

“I know, love, but… I just thought…”

She's silent for a moment, and it’s as if she doesn’t even want to try and speak. Finally, she inhales deeply and forces out her explanation.

“The weeks before you left, we were fighting all the time. And then we would have sex to numb how much it hurt, and the whole time, I mean… I was bad about taking my pill. And once you left I was still bad about it, but… if I got the date of conception wrong…”

He nods, though he’s having trouble understanding her as the world feels blurry still. Despite his confusion, though, he runs his hands up and down along the length of her arms. “He’s still so small, though.”

“He was five pounds, eight ounces when he was born. Which is tiny, but Dr. Whale said that a stressful pregnancy can impact birthweight. And… I mean, I spent my pregnancy with Walsh. I lost you.”

Taking her hands in his, he squeezes and begs her to look into his eyes before he pulls her bottom lip from between her teeth and wipes away the tiny trace of blood left behind. “Love, are you sure about this?”

He watches as she begins to break again, the tears immediate and her breathing quickening until he pulls her in for a tight hug. “If this is true-- if you’re his dad-- that means I put him through this for no reason. What kind of a mother does that make me?”

Although he’s overcome with confusion and a difficulty accepting what seems more and more likely to be the truth, he’s also overcome with the need to comfort her. So he shushes her gently, kissing her head, and whispers, “you're the best mother in the world to him, my love. You did everything you could to protect him. If this is true, we can leave, and I'll be the best father I can to him. Together, we’ll make up for what he’s been through, I promise.”

“I don't want to do this to you,” she cries, and although she grips him tightly, he can feel her pulling away. “I don’t want to put you through this.”

“There’s nothing I want more than to be a family with you and Henry. Even if he isn’t my son, I'm going to get you out of Storybrooke and I'm going to treat him like he is.”

She holds onto him for a while, letting her breathing even out and probably deciding whether he’s telling the truth, and he considers the weight of their situation. He never thought he would be a father. Once things ended with Emma, he thought it was over for him and that he would never move on and be happy enough to start a family with anyone else. Then, when he found her again and with a child of her own, he thought he would at least be happy enough raising someone else’s son if it meant being with her. When she so firmly and believably insisted that he did not father her son, he believed her and tried his best to move on.

Now that the possibility is dangled in front of him once more, he isn't sure he can survive the heartbreak of being proven wrong once again.

But when he thinks about the lad who has Killian’s mother’s eyes and Emma’s round cheeks and an attitude that couldn’t possibly be inherited from such a horrible man, his heart clenches in his chest and he can’t bear to not know. He can’t go through life without knowing whether this child is his. He wants him to be his so very badly. And even if he isn’t… he may as well be.

“What do we need to do, love?” he finally asks, giving her assurance that he’s in this with her no matter what they find out.

She sniffles, looking up at him with glassy red eyes and asks, “are you sure?” and he nods with firm resolve and a soft smile. She returns it and explains, “they can do a paternity test right now. I can pay for rapid results and find out in a few hours.”

Brushing the hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear, he nods again and leans down to kiss her despite the fact that they're in public. They're hidden in a quiet hallway, but the possibility that anyone can walk in on them in each other’s arms is real. “I’ll pay.”

“Killian, no--”

He cuts her off with another kiss, this one more heated, and then says, “I’ll pay. However the results come back, I want to be here for the lad. I’ve missed five years already, let me start making that up now.”

She sighs and kisses him now, holding him as close to her as she can as she cradles the back of his head in her hands. “Should we talk about what this means?” she asks softly, voice barely above a whisper in the quiet hall.

“All it means is that a part of me may have been with you all along. I can take comfort in that. It means I have a reason for being so fond of your son, other than him being your son. It means there’s hardly any reason for us to be apart ever again.”

“Aside from my potential murder,” she jests, although it feels heavier than any joke should.

“Hush,” he quiets. “I told you I'm not letting anything happen to you and I meant it. We’re going to get this sorted out now, alright?” She nods, her nose running along his cheek. “Now, are they going to stab me with a needle, or can they simply swab my cheek?”

With a snort, she asks, “what, you can handle a bunch of tattoos, but a bit of blood work is too much for you?”

“Oy,” he argues, tickling her playfully until she giggles and buries her face in his neck. “I’ll do anything for that lad, I swear. Just… a cheek swab is a bit less uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure a cheek swab would’ve been less uncomfortable than 39 hours of labor, too.”

“Alright,” he concedes. “Come, now. Let’s find out the level of torture I’m about to endure.”

~~~~

It’s hours of sitting behind the desk, torturously staring at the clock and willing it to turn to 8 pm so she can leave. Tink doesn’t deserve this shift; it’s a complete waste of a day, and hardly anything exciting has happened. One would think that the emergency department at a hospital would be more busy, but Storybrooke is a small and sleepy town. The only thing that’s happened today is a little boy getting checked in for his asthma, and if nothing transpires with what was discovered after he was admitted, it’ll feel like a wasted shift.

As if his ears were burning, the elevator opens to reveal something very exciting indeed: the mayor. He hurries towards her, leaning over the desk with a sense of urgency that Tink suspects is purely for attention and votes. “I’m looking for Henry Oswald,” he insists.

She blinks at him and cocks her head, turning to her computer for show, although she already knows what’s about to happen. “Do you have ID?” she asks when she sees the kid’s chart, concealing her smirk.

The mayor grumbles something about her not knowing who he is and the slightly sadistic side of her cackles. The cackling gets louder when she takes his ID and shakes her head, giving him a falsely apologetic look. “I’m sorry, sir, I can only allow family into his room.”

His face is nearly unreadable, but she sees the way his eyes widen threateningly when he asks, “excuse me?” in a deceptively calm tone.

Not falling for his playacting, she repeats, “only family is allowed in the room at this time.”

“I’m his father,” he insists.

Tink shakes her head. “Not according to his chart, sir. The name on your ID does not match the name listed here.”

“Let me see that.”

“I can’t, sir, it’s a confidential medical record. Only his parents are allowed to see his information.”

He slams his hands against the desk and shouts, “I’m his father! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Honestly, Tink should work on her tendencies to rile people up. But when she heard about the drama with the mayor’s son not actually being the mayor’s son, she was sort of hoping this would happen. She didn’t vote for him, anyway. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice and take a step back.”

“I’m not lowering anything until you let me see the kid!”

“Sir, I’ll have to have you escorted out by security,” she insists, pressing the button under her desk discretely and watching the security guards rush into the waiting area.

The mayor shouts in anger as he’s hauled away, threatening to sue the hospital and insisting that Tink is infringing on his rights as a father. She smiles softly at the image she saw earlier, of a small boy sleeping away in his big bed and his father diligently guarding him from his firm, uncomfortable chair.

~~~~

Killian wanted to go for her after finding out the truth about Henry-- the fact that Walsh isn’t his father and Killian is-- but she was terrified of leaving him alone for even a second without the protection of the sheriff, so she insisted on going. He didn’t take that lying down and made her promise to stay in the hospital where it’s safe, so when he fell asleep in the hard folding chair, she kissed his forehead and snuck out of the room and down to his car.

It’s strange how easily she’s been able to accept the events of the day. It started with her having a mental breakdown over her husband’s maltreatment of both herself and her son, and has evolved into her feeling a sense of completion. Things are starting to feel right. Her life is falling into place.

Killian is Henry’s father.

She can continue to stress over the fact that she was too consumed by the pain of losing him to even consider the possibility later, but for now, she focuses on getting as many of Henry’s things as she can and stashing them in Killian’s squad car before she goes back to the hospital to be with her son. Killian can bring all of his stuff to his apartment later, so that she doesn’t waste any more time being away from him or being in this damn house.

She smiles as she grabs his favorite stuffed animal, Mr. Quackie, and pushes it into his small backpack before reaching for his nebulizer and placing that inside as well. She grabs Goodnight Moon and his favorite copy of Henry and Mudge, and just as she’s reaching for the rest of his clothes that she has laid out on his bed, she hears the front door slam.

In a panic, she shoves his clothes into the duffle bag as quickly as she can and zips it up, but she isn’t sure how she’ll be able to leave the house without him knowing. The squad car is parked outside, and while she was initially worried about taking it for fear of Killian getting into trouble, she’s glad she has it now. Maybe if he thinks the Sheriff is here, he won’t do anything. Maybe she can climb out the window without being seen, sneaking back in the front to grab the keys from the kitchen and making a break for it. She doesn’t need any of her own things, just the contents of the small backpack slung over her shoulder.

Just as she makes the rash decision to head out the window, hoping that the roof below the second story will be enough to ease her to the ground, she feels a hand on her shoulder yanking her back inside until she’s on her back and looking up. She’s never seen him look so angry-- she’s never seen anyone look so angry. He glares down at her through fury and rage and she fears what’s to come.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks simply, seething through his teeth as she gulps and attempts to stand. He stops her by pressing the toe of his boot, still wet from the snow outside, to her forehead. “I said what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Um--”

“I just left the hospital. The school called, and when I got there, they said only Henry’s family can go into his room.”

She tries not to dwell on the fact that the school called him because she knows that they were required to do so. She also tries to ignore the fact that he waited almost eight hours before going to the hospital to look for Henry, able to put the thoughts of anger out of her mind and replace them with relief at him not being the father of her child. All she can do now is gulp and stare up at him in anticipation for what he might do to her.

He removes his boot and lets her stand, and just when he steps to the side and she’s tricked into thinking that he may let her leave, he throws her onto the small bed and screams, “his family?! How convenient is it that the hospital thinks someone else is Henry’s father?”

“Walsh,” she tries, but he’s on her before she can go on, pressing his forearm to her throat to silence her with just enough force for it to hurt.

“And now you're here, in the sheriff’s car,” he hisses, spit spewing across her face as he berates her. “If you tell me he isn’t mine-- if you stuck me with this life for six miserable years for absolutely no reason-- I will fucking kill you right here.”

She lets out a sound that should indicate the damage he’s doing as he increases the pressure of his hold, and he lets go only long enough to replace his arm with two hands. He squeezes hard until she starts to see stars, clinging her hands to his wrists in an attempt to claw him away from her and open up her airways again. Instead of letting go, he lifts her by the neck and throws her back down against the bed with more force than she knew was possible. He screams some more, but her world is going dark and she can’t make out a word he says to her.

Her lips start to feel numb at the pressure he applies. Her eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of her skull. Her desperate movements at his hands weaken, and she truly believes that he means to kill her. He means to end her life as punishment for falsely saddling him with fatherhood. She has the realization that she’s about to pass out and probably die, and then sees her son’s face flashing before her eyes and is reminded of why she’s here. Not just why she’s in his room gathering his things, but why she’s here on this earth. What purpose she serves as a person.

She’s a mother.

No one can take that from her.

No one.

She lifts her hands from his, finding one last grain of strength, just enough to plunge her pointer fingers into his eyes and make him scream in painful anguish as he finally releases his hold on her. She takes the deepest breath she ever has and ever will again, and feels more sympathy for Henry than she ever has before because nothing has ever been scarier than wanting to inhale and being incapable of doing so.

Walsh cries out, swearing at her and calling her names before he throws her onto the floor, causing her to lose the wind in her lungs once more. But she’s committed to fighting back now, and she won’t let him win, so she kicks him hard between his legs so that he falls beside her and then moves to stand herself.

Grabbing the small backpack, the one that at least has his nebulizer in it, she feels Walsh's hands grabbing for her ankles as she starts to run. She makes it down the stairs and grabs the keys off of the counter, wishing she had just kept them with her, when he cuts her off. He raises the stakes, too, because he’s standing three feet from her with a gun she had no idea he owned and a wild, murderous glint in his eyes.

“Are you gonna shoot me?” she asks, her throat and neck burning as she speaks.

“I really, really want to.”

“What about your reelection?” she taunts.

“Fuck you.”

She glances around the room as she stares down the barrel of his gun, and realizes she isn’t scared. It’s the icing on the cake, the fact that he’s had a gun in the house that her five-year-old lives in the entire time and never bothered to tell her. She’s furious.

So she picks up the crystal vase on the counter and he laughs, asking what she’s going to do with it when he’s standing there with a gun to her head, and she tosses it at him. It’s his grandmother’s, and he wouldn’t dare let a family heirloom shatter, so he drops the gun and catches the vase. She grabs his golf club as she runs by the bag he’d left by the entrance of the kitchen, holding it like a bat as he turns to face her again.

“You’re not his dad,” she confirms finally, her strength giving way to the cocky attitude that she’s been wanting to give him for months. Years. “The sheriff is. And I’ve been fucking him for months.”

He growls in the back of his throat, grumbling something about her being a bitch, and rushes her foolishly. She swings the golf club with all of the force that she possesses and knocks him and the crystal vase to the ground, taking a deep grounding breath when he remains still, and then hurrying towards the door.

~~~~

She parks outside of the sheriff’s station, unsure of what to do next. She knows he can’t do anything to her here, and she doesn’t want to go to the hospital where Henry could see her. She also doesn’t want to let Killian see her like this, because he was right all along.

She always thought that a part of Walsh must've loved her, just a bit. She thought that he would never hurt her, because she’s his wife, and that’s just not how things are done. Killian was right, and she should have known better.

She remembers hearing a statistic in college, back when she wanted to be a social worker, about how battered women are in the most danger when they try to leave their abuser. She never for a second saw herself becoming a statistic.

~~~~

The sheriff’s car had been parked outside for twenty minutes before Deputy Ruby Lucas decided to take a peek and investigate why he wasn’t coming inside. When she finally does look, she sees something she would never have expected.

Of course, she figured out they were having an affair pretty easily. It’s not like they were being discreet about it, after all. But Ruby never suspected that the sheriff would lend his town-appointed vehicle to his mistress.

She likes the mayor’s wife well enough, even more so upon finding out how little she regards her husband. The man’s an absolute terror and she’s never liked him, and always struggled with how someone could possibly have found enough good in that man to marry him. Of course, finding out that Emma doesn’t actually like her husband very much was a bit of a pleasant surprise.

She taps on the window on the drivers side and the woman inside jumps, staring up at Ruby with wide eyes filled with terror. “Are you alright?” Ruby asks her through the glass, and she watches as Emma grimaces as she turns her head to face forward again. Suddenly and with great clarity, Ruby’s astute deputy skills kick into gear as she notices a deeper-than-normal shadow on the woman’s neck and realizes what’s happening. “Where’s the sheriff?” she asks.

Emma says, “the hospital,” although her voice is rough and sounds strained.

Ruby wants to turn on her flashlight and take a better look at the woman before her, but thinks better of it so as to not spook her. She leans down so that she’s more on her level and says, “can you come inside with me? We can call him.”

She watches as the frightened woman reaches her hand up to her neck and cringes away from her own touch before undoing her seatbelt and exiting the car, her eyes wide and fearful as she looks around the empty parking lot.

Ruby has never seen someone look so terrified in all her years as deputy.

~~~~

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itadoryryoken · 3 years

Text

pyramid head x soft reader

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it’s eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that ‘Hell’ could look so…Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still…Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this…Everything…It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren’t sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone’s straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish’s head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness…It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn’t much, but if he had to, he’d rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul’s beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper’s actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold’ she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren’t surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn’t able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!’ she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor’s camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!’she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn’t exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You’re a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!’

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother’s lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone’s skins.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn’t help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard…

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

“H-Hey, u-uhm…Need some help?” she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. “Okay, uhm…I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I’ll go fetch it and I’ll come back for you. Don’t move.” she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. “…I’m sorry, ignore me, I’m an idiot.”she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. “Okay, I’m here, I found the vaseline! Let’s try to get you out of here.” Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. “If it’s not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can’t balance myself with both hands occupied, and I’d rather not fall.” she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost…Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

“Ouchie…” she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. “Are you okay?” she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. “O-Oh…! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you’re bleeding too! Hold up, let me help.” she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. “It may sting a bit, and I’m really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon.” her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then…“This is grandma’s marigold ointment. It’s really good, and it smells nice.” she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. “Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you’ll feel better very soon!” her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so…Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn’t matter how many hardships she’s been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh’ to its mamma sheep.

He couldn’t allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn’t understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

“Th-This sword is so heavy…H-How can you carry this around like that…?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore…Y-You really need a massage, I’m sure.” she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. “Hehe…You’re really strong. I’m embarrassed now.” she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn’t hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn’t feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

“O-Oh…! Thank you so much! You’re really kind! I really appreciate this…I-I know it probably doesn’t matter much to you, since you’ll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors…But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!” her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn’t talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth’ and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor’s camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. “Oh, but he wasn’t that bad. In fact, he’s much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!” okay, she’s lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she’s always been a bit…Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers’ camp. “How the hell did you manage to survive?!” they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. “Oh, you see…I found the hatch.” she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time…He seemed kinda…Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer’s camp, calling out the lonely one’s name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them…

“Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there…I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial…Here, this is a marshmallow. I don’t think you’ve had many before…Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in…So I hope this will make your day a bit better!” Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand…He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn’t wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

“Ah…! You liked it, didn’t you? Well…Next time, I promise I’ll give you more!” she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn’t talk, silence took over them - It wasn’t an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. “W-Well…I’ll guess I’ll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!” she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn’t out of fear or anything negative…It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

“Thank you.” she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

📷

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youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Wash out.13

Banner: this banner is made by me. the rest are mde by the lovely @purpleskies1999 Pairings: Dolphintrainer!Taehyung x SharkDiver!Jin, Mer!Jimin x Reader, Scientist!Namjoon x MerKing!Jungkook, Mer!Yoongi x Mer!Hoseok. Words: 2.2k Genre: Mystery, Romance, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, little bit of Action, Slice of life, Enemies2Lovers, Friends2lovers, Social media au, Fake Texts, Fake Subs.

Summary: Taehyung and his best friend Y/N are Dolphin trainers at Wash Out; Marine Wildlife and Theme Park. When the nerdy marine biologist and resident veterinarian Doctor Kim Namjoon goes missing; the two friends form a ragtag team with Taehyung’s rival Seokjin and a…. Fish?

After checking in with Tae and Jin you were watching movies with the merman and trying to stay up to monitor Dolly. It was late in the night that you heard banging like someone was knocking on a door but muffled. Eventually you got up confused and annoyed at the repeated sound, until you heard a dolphin squeal.

Sitting up quickly your eyes met with the half fish, he looked worried. He must have been banging the glass for you to wake up. Looking over into the rest tank you went over and leaned over the side. Dolly was giving birth. You followed the instructions from your research and you tried to help Dolly.

Dazed and not thinking straight, you stepped into the water, Dolly smacked you with her tail causing you to fall. Hitting your head on the side of the tank a searing pain and haze of black before falling out of the tank.

Your head was aching, what a rookie mistake mothers are very protective of their children and you had just entered her safe space. You tried to soothe her with music and monitored her as she had her baby.

The little dolphin calf was swimming beside their mother and you sat back in relief as the baby began drinking from its mother.

Your vision turned red in that eye and you panicked, turning away looking for a mirror. The merman jumped back in shock and intrigue staring at your face. He wore the same face when watching movies with you, he seemed confused about blood in the movie as well. Where did it come from and what did it do? After a few action movies he realised that loss of blood meant humans died. Maybe that’s why he looked so nervous, mustering a gentle smile you gave him an okay gesture which he returned confused.

Pulling out a small compact mirror from your toiletry bag, you inspected the wound. Grabbing a dressing to cover the injury you carefully cleaned and used an antiseptic before using a waterproof bandage on the tiny cut.

The male was getting good at gesture communication to some extent. He could thumbs up and down for yes and no and he understood waving when you arrived or left the room. He was trying to understand the okay gesture you had used before but he didn’t quite get the meaning which was understandable, it was a harder concept to grasp.

You tapped your mouth meaning food and he gave you the thumbs up, you went off to get some fish for him to eat. You were glad the CEO wasn’t around, you were able to establish a connection with him and he was able to understand certain cues.

Carrying the buckets back your head started spinning, you were feeling kind of sick. It was unpleasant, your eyes stinging as you held the rail and headed up the stairs and above the tank.

The cat walk felt unstable, the room spinning and distorting, you dropped the bucket clutching your head and you felt your body relax into an unconscious state.

When you came to you were laying on the catwalk entirely wet and your headache painfully. You knew you would have had to have fallen into the water. The fish bucket was floating around the tank and your hand was dipped below the surface.

You heard a sweet humming. With a groan you grabbed your head and turned towards the sound seeing the figure grow quiet. The mermaid has been watching you while you slept and backed up a little. Sinking into the water until it reached the bridge of his nose.

With only his eyes on show you were once again hit with how captivating he was. His stare was so strong and eyes fierce and yet you were unsure if he was trying to scare you or lure you in. You watched as he blinked a transparent eyelid travelling across his eye before his regular eye lid fell down over his eye.

It was a subtle reminder of how he wasn’t entirely human, he watched you trying to sit up. The way your limbs must have looked so weak, your torso swayed heavily. You remembered you hadn’t had much sleep; it was now probably three in the morning.

Remembering your duty to dolly you turned quickly the world spinning with you and yet it didn’t stop when you did and you fell forward. You were conscious this time as you plunged into the water.

You tried to fight your way back up to the surface. The last thing you needed right now is to get more head spins and muscle weakness, the merman grabbed your waist. Pulling you against his chest making the world still as he grounded you to him and swam upwards his hips rocking against yours as his tail swayed in his swimming motion.

Your head fell forward and when you broke the surface he cradled the back of your head tilting it so your head would rest in his palm. He seemed startled by your eyes still being open.

“Your voice is so pretty, were you humming?” You smiled, his eyes searched your face watching you wince clutching the side of your head. “Ow!”

He eyed the bandage and watched your head flop forward again, he scooped your head off his shoulder and held it once more in his hand. Unable to resist giggling.

“I think I have a concussion, I think I really hit my head in Dolly’s tank” you mumbled before gasping eyes shooting open, “Dolly!”

He let you go confused as to why you were struggling against him but rolled his eyes as you sank again. Scooping you from below the surface he pressed your back against the catwalk. You don’t know his reasoning behind this but it didn’t seem like he was cornering you, it was more like he was trying to support you some more.

Being this close to him your heart fluttered in your chest and you wondered if he felt the same. Flattening your palm to his chest you heard the steady beat of his heart.

He pressed his palm to yours and felt your heart beat hammering in your chest. Looking up into your eyes you felt his heart flutter softly.

He swam forward not closing the little space between you and tilting his head pressing his lips to yours. You had watched a lot of romance movies and tv shows and noticed how he really paid attention when the main couple kissed or shared an intimate moment.

His heartbeat fluttered again loudly as you were lifted from the water and sat on the catwalk, he didn’t remove his mouth from yours but clutched your hips delicately.

His tail was leisurely keeping him afloat and you were surprised by the strength it held. His soft plump lips pulled away his hand carding through his hair nervously.

“We can speak now,” he whispered with a soft shy smile

“Wait, you speak english?” You said shocked and he gave a melodic laugh making you feel happy just by the sound.

“No, I shared with you the ability to understand our language and took your language as well. It is called the gift of tongues.”

“I can see why,” you giggled

“You hit your head earlier, and you were leaking?” He asked curiously, “are you badly injured?”

“I am okay,” you gave him the okay gesture and he laughed looking as if he made a life changing discovery.

“You can barely stand up on your own,” he scoffed. “You are definitely not okay, human.”

“My name is Y/n,” you laughed with him, a little more embarrassed by his observations than amused. He stopped laughing contemplating something before flashing you a bright grin.

“Jimin.”

“That’s a nice name, I really like it.” You beamed it wasn’t too different from what you had expected, but the name suited him well, “Jimin.”

Jimin sank into the water until only his eyes were visible, the tops of his ears a bright red alluding you to his embarrassment.

“Did you eat?” You asked, reaching to grab the bucket and almost teetering off the catwalk. He grabbed your hip and held you to the concrete.

“Yes after saving you?” He swam bringing the bucket closer, you thanked him, taking the bucket out of the water. He dipped under the water and you thought perhaps he was finished talking but he popped up once more and ran his hands through his hair.

“So why am I here in this cage?” He asked

“This is where we take sick sea animals and make them better before sending them back to the wild,” you explained. “They find a lot of hurt fish where you were found, so we go out and collect them, heal them and send them back. Namjoon is our scientist/doctor. You hit him with your tail and he disappeared. They didn’t find a body.”

“So I am in prison,” he frowned, hearing he had killed someone innocent who wasn’t trying to hurt anyone but protect them. “My friends were there. I called them and they answered back, perhaps they took him away.”

“You are here because of the CEO, he wants you to be a part of the exhibit,” you said honestly, “I want you to be happy you are a person just like me, I don’t want to keep you locked up.”

“What’s an exhibit?”

“He wants you to sing, swim and dance to entertain people who will come and see you,” you explained, running a hand through your tangled damp hair. “He told me not to feed you until you cooperated but I snuck you fish anyway, he isn’t here for the week so I am not worried but if and when he comes back he will want results and if we don’t show him what he wants I will have to leave forever and you will probably be hurt badly until you do as they say”

He paled moving away from you. “I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want you to get hurt by anyone, I will try to protect you with everything I have.”

“Can you get me out of here?” He said, swimming forward slowly in the water looking up at you innocently. He pulled himself up out of the water, a hand on either side of your legs. Jimin lifted his face level to yours, his tail coming out of the water. His lips ghosting as he whispered “I want to go back?” Your eyes fluttered closed, his lips were so soft molded with yours.

“I can,” You sighed out of breath, unsure if it was the head injury or the kiss. He was smiling, a mischievous look in his eye made you think he was playing you exactly where he wanted, “but you will have to wait for me to make a plan.”

“I can’t just walk a fish out of the park or the guards would break my legs,” Jimin winced his hands delicately landing on your knees protectively, “If the CEO finds out I am dead and you are in an even worse position, they would hurt you Jimin, they would torture you until you do what they say.”

“I have to make a plan, to get you out of here past all of the guards and then where do I take you?” Mind reeling with thoughts, ideas and plans trying to figure out all the scenarios. “We will have to hide for a few days so they don’t cut us off before we can get you to the water. I can’t take you to my house as that would be the first place they look.”

He didn’t say a word listening to your musings, “Listen, give me a few days. I will talk to Taehyung and we will make a plan to get you out.”

He frowned, looking like he was going to swim away. Without a second thought you jumped into the water, his eyes widened as he clutched your waist. You were feeling much better and could swim on your own, but you let him hold you. “I promise Jimin.”

You held out your pinky and he looked at it confused, you took his hand from your waist and pulled it out of the water. Slipping slightly into the water he pulled you closer, his hard torso pressed to your soft one. You tried not to kick your legs so as not to kick his tail. He offered you his pinky which you twisted with yours pressing the pads of your thumbs together.

“This is a pinky promise, it can’t be broken. It is the strongest promise anyone can make.” He looked at your hands and you grinned “I promise you, I will get you out of here.”

You let your hands go and gently swam away from him crawling onto the catwalk. “Y/n!” He called making you turn back to him. He pushed himself up quickly, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, the concrete was biting at your knees but you were lost in the feeling. He pulled away with a bright grin. “Thank you.”

Diving under the water, leaving you on the catwalk trying to get up with weak knees.

Tags: @backinblack1967 @miriamxsworld @moccahobi @simplymemyself @a-gayish-unicorn

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13atoms · 3 years

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Fic idea: reader and orlo are penpals, and when the reader finally visits Orlo for the first time, they expect a suave, intelligent, confident man... And then Orlo's very, very flustered and tongue tied around them, but still in his endearing way?

No idea where to go from there, so have fun I guess?

Oh my god i love this concept. SO much. He’d be so suave in letters.

Since I’ve been away a while: here’s some flufffffffff

Orlo fidgeted nervously as another carriage pulled away, an elderly Lord in an oversized wig departing rather than the woman he was expecting.

What would she be like? What would she look like? Sound like? Smell like?

What would she think of him?

He tried to gulp down the worst question, buzzing around his head like a wasp he couldn’t swat, cursing his sweaty palms as he rubbed them against his waistcoat subtly. The fear she wouldn’t like him had crept up on Orlo over the last few weeks, threatening to choke him the night before her arrival and keeping him from sleep as he had anxiously considered every possible outcome of their meeting for the first time.

Ought he to have warned her, of his reputation at the palace? Did he owe her some explanation of his flaws?

He wondered who she expected, if she had tried to fantasize about him as he had about her.

Her. This stranger, who he feared might already own his heart, who knew him better than anyone else in the palace walls.

They had flirted through neat script, he had agonised over her every crossed-out work and carefully chosen phrase, and now he was finally meeting her.

It was a strange gap in his day, between coup meetings and appeasing Peter, trying to hold the country together, Orlo had carved out time to await the arrival of her carriage.

He was being ridiculous, he knew it, standing by the turning circle of the carriages for hours. He had no idea what time she would arrive, and yet he could not bare to miss a second of her presence. So her would wait, alone and hoping his intentions remained unchallenged by the gentry at large.

No one in the palace knew of his correspondence, of his flirting and his attempts at charming in letters, of his secret he had harboured in letters nestled between official correspondence and against his heart in the inside pocket of his waistcoat.

He smiled, thinking of all the times he had leaned on the strength of those letters in difficult meetings and raucous parties, eagerly awaiting each new batch of letters in the hopes it might contain a couple of pages from her.

Catherine had almost caught him once, reading a letter from her crouched in a concealed corner of the theatre, squinting in the darkness in desperation to hear more from her.

“What are you reading?” Catherine had asked haughtily, reaching for the letter.

As quickly as he could without damaging the paper, he had declined to share with her, shoving the folded letter back into his pocket.

“Nothing!”

Catherine’s silent challenge, her stormy expression and impatiently tapping foot, had forced more words from him.

“A friend,” he muttered.

Her expression had warped into a wry smile, perhaps no longer afraid of his betrayal, seeing a little more than he would have liked.

Orlo smiled to himself against the cold air, the palace looming behind him and his beau somewhere through the forest, in a carriage. He could not deny the nervousness he felt for her safety, in equal measure to the nervousness he felt for her judgement of him.

In the windows, he could see people waking up, beginning their routines. Couples and single men, children and countless visitors to the huge building flitted in and out of the windows as the Russian wind whistled through the forest and horses and carriage crunched against the road.

A polite, “thank you” drew his eye from the windows above, causing him to staggered around clumsily to see the women disembarking the carriage.

He pulled her latest letter from his pocket, wondering if it might help him identify his mystery pen pal somehow, watching as she tried subtly to stretch from the journey and smiled at the driver.

Her reaction to the huge, grand building was familiar, and it made Orlo smile as she stared up at the windows above, marvelling at what was surely the largest building she had ever seen with wide eyes.

She smiled as she caught him staring, and Orlo found himself shrinking into himself, his chest tight with nervousness as she laid eyes on him.

"I'm looking for... Grigor Orlo?" she asked gently.

His name on her tongue made his heart stutter in his chest, and Orlo knew it. He was fucked.

"That's... actually me," he choked out, wincing at the stutter in his words.

He winced as her eyebrows raised, her gaze falling subtly across his face and clothing, mouth falling open for just a second of surprise too long. Then, she smiled so sweetly he feared he might faint.

“Then I suppose I am your pen pal!” she introduced herself, holding out a hand to him.

Orlo froze, kicking himself as he finally reached for her retreating hand, pulling it to his lips. Her soft skin brushed his lips in a kiss for just a second, but it was long enough for him to feel that clenching of his heart again, almost painful.

His mind was torturing him, seeming to race and halt at once.

Stop acting like such a fool!

“Orlo,” he choked out, “everyone just calls me Orlo.”

He released her hand and stood, struggling to meet her gaze even as he was inclined to stare at her. She regarded him curiously for a moment, before nodding mutely.

Her carriage was pulling away, her bags awaiting direction as servants stood nearby, and he wondered at what a spectacle this all must be. Still, he found himself lacking words.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” she told him sincerely, “at long last.”

“You too,” Orlo managed to return, wondering how a man of his age could manage to have his voice break whilst attempting to pronounce so few syllables.

The conversation had not truly been volleyed back to her, and yet Orlo could do nothing but berate himself for how badly he was failing.

He had thought her his soulmate, perhaps, a life partner. Words alone had been enough to prove their connection, a smart and witty woman he had begun correspondence with quite by accident seemed too good to be true, and he had been delighted each time she flirted back with him, and seemed as eager as him to talk more. She had travelled for days to visit him, for goodness’ sakes. She could not be more perfect, and he was fucking it all up.

“Where should I have my bags sent?” she asked him politely.

He wondered at what she might think, as he fumbled and failed to carry their conversation. Fuck. He had not even welcomed her yet, told her where she would be staying, he –

“Orlo?” she inquired.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, “um, there is a guest suite prepared. Near mine. Not that… not that that is relevant. Um…”

He turned to the serf who stood nearby, longsuffering and wincing at the man’s awkwardness.

“The guest suite three doors from my own, the door will be marked.”

They nodded, and vanished with the heavy bags.

His pen pal was staring wistfully across the gardens, and he felt nothing but pity for the poor woman. He had lured her here under the pretence of someone better than him, and now she would be undergoing the worst kind of betrayal, watching him fumble his words and wring his hands nervously.

She had wandered some small distance away, entranced by the morning bustle of the residents of the palace and their finery, the sheer scale of the grounds. He watched her for a moment, taking a deep breath, before stepping by her side.

“I cannot believe you are real,” he exhaled, “I have been so nervous…”

She turned a little to face him, but spared him her gaze. Perhaps she knew that was too much for now.

“Me too,” she admitted, “I mean, that you are real. And who you say.”

Orlo allowed himself to smile, and she turned properly to him.

“I was afraid I would let you down. I still am, in some way,” he admitted, the words rolling from his tongue unpermitted.

At least you are saying something, you fool.

He frowned at her displeased look, noticed how she took him in again, wondering if she was judging him. For his stature. For his clothes. His face. His voice. His demeanour.

He wondered which repulsed her the most.

“I admit, I had the same fear,” she told him.

Orlo opened and closed his mouth in surprise, her letter to him clutched tightly in his hand, the last words she had sent him before he could finally hear her speak in person.

“Why? You could never disappoint me!” Orlo heard himself pitchy, nervous still, and cursed himself for it.

She laughed, looking towards her feet, fluffing her skirt in a gesture which betrayed her own self-consciousness.

“I am embarrassed to admit it, but I fretted for hours on what to wear today. Whether you would think it was… enough. I know things are different here, I… I did not want to embarrass myself.”

Orlo intended to interrupt, one hand raised to make a point, but she continued to speak. She was not watching him, her gaze trained instead on the ladies assembling on the lawn in their ornate jewellery and fine dresses, squinting as if in scrutiny.

“I confess I had even considered turning around, for fear you might not find me as… eloquent in person.”

Orlo caught himself chuckling, quickly reaching for his pen pal’s hand to assuage her immediate fear he was laughing at her.

“I cannot believe how thoroughly your mind seems to match mine, in its cruel patterns,” he explained.

She smiled nervously, unconvinced, and he dropped her hand.

Then, he reached for it again, leaving his fingers awkwardly outstretched as he allowed his rue thoughts to spill from his mouth.

"I find that beautiful words come to me easier than beauty, flattery and emotion are easier through a quill than they are through my own voice. I understand if you want to leave. And if I have misled you in some way... oh, god, I am sorry."

His words were left with a beat of silence, self-depreciation stamping out hope as it blossomed at her timidly upturning lips.

“Now, you are sounding rather more than my pen pal,” she teased, and Orlo caught himself smiling, though the jibe felt rather at his own expense.

“I do not measure up in person…” Orlo attempted to fill her words, to release her from the need to tell him herself that she would be leaving.

She took his hand.

“On account of beauty, you certainly do. And perhaps you might show me a little more flattery and emotion as you introduce me to the grounds?”

She adjusted his arm, and he found himself allowing his muscles to go limp at the contact, letting her manipulate him as she pleased until he had styled him to offer his elbow, and snaked her own arm through his.

He covered her hand with his, feeling butterflies returning to his stomach.

In a good way. An exciting way. She smiled across at him.

“I would truly love that,” he confessed sincerely.

She leant into his side fondly, make his heartbeat accelerate faster than the wildest jigs danced in the palace. I would like so desperately to dance with her, he realised.

Ahead the sky was a bright blue, both of them squinting at the sun as Catherine joined the women in a chorus of bottle-smashing cheers. The bark of dogs inside the palace was accompanied by gunshots, as a hunt prepared to go out.

And Orlo was about to go on a date.

A date who was chirpily hanging onto his arm, looking around at all the new sights and flinching at the new noises.

Just for a second, he wondered that she might get used to them.

And stay.

With a blink he finally took a step forwards, delighting in how she bounced excitedly alongside him, his earlier trepidation giving forwards to the kind of fond nervousness which arrived at the start of something good.

As she smiled to him, he found himself earnestly grinning back.

“Then let us begin.”

#count orlo #count orlo x reader #count orlo x F!reader #this was a warm up ive got something gooood coming up!#cute though #fic #13atoms

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ladyreapermc · 4 years

Text

Fic: Make it Hurt (Brooklyn Baby Series)

Summary: Bee visits John and finds a very different man than she has grown used to. A very good kind of different in her opinion. Part 1: Brooklyn Baby | Part 2: A little loss of innocence | Part 3: Insatiable Craving | Part 5: Play with Fire |

Paring: John Wick x Reader (Bee)

Wordcount: 4,5 K

Warnings: age gap; smut (rough sex; powerplay; choking; dirty talk; unprotected sex)

Author’s notes: we’re getting to know Bee a little better. Hope you enjoy it and feedback is always appreciated.

You turned around in front of the mirror to take a better look at the flimsy fabric covering your breasts and groin. Could that even be called fabric? Just delicate lace held together by sheer tulle in a deep blue. The boyshorts hugged your hips snuggly, the material covering everything but so seethrough that you still felt exposed.

At the same time, you felt beautiful. Powerful. Attractive. Like the saleswoman suggested, the bra pushed your breasts up, making them look bigger, inviting, while the panties accentuated your curves. You were a feast to the eyes and even just admiring yourself in the mirror was enough to set your heart racing.

You had never done this before, buy special lingerie with someone in mind.

Before Mr. Wick came into your life, you only ever had two real boyfriends. One throughout high school, the one that took away your virginity. The second one in your freshman year of college, before your father died. There were a few other hookups here and there but you had mostly kept yourself guarded and uninterested in relationships. Especially with boys your age.

Besides, they were always more interested in having you naked and their cocks in your cunt. No one had ever looked at you as if you were something precious. Not until Mr. Wick. Every time you stripped for him, it felt like he was committing every inch of you to memory so it felt fitting to give him something to look at. Something you knew he would appreciate. Even if the lingerie set cost you a big chunk of your month’s salary. You knew it would be worth it.

You could almost picture now in your mind, the darkness in his deep chocolate eyes. You could hear the rumbling growl vibrating in his chest as he took you in, his calloused hands dragging all over your skin; his wicked mouth leaving marks on your neck and collarbone, making you drench the lace covering your cunt until it turned a darker shade of blue...

“Damn Bee!” Daisy’s voice startled you from your thoughts, making you hurry to grab a towel and wrap it around your body. “You look hot! Is that for the new boyfriend?”

You could feel the blood rising to your cheeks. Every time Daisy mentioned your boyfriend, guilt sunk in your gut like you had swallowed a rock. Could you even call Mr. Wick a boyfriend? The denomination seemed so wrong. There was nothing boyish about him and you certainly didn’t know if what you had with him could be considered a relationship… But it was definitely something you were more than willing to explore.

Everytime you thought about it, you asked yourself how could you bear looking at Daisy when you were fucking her dad? She was your best friend. Surely there was some unwritten rule that said this was a capital offense, making you one of the most horrible friends in this God’s green Earth. Still, even if guilt consumed you, every night Mr. Wick haunted your dreams and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Life had never been all that kind to you. Unlike Daisy, who came from a wealthy family, your mom was a school teacher, your father was a cop. They had to gather every penny to put you through college. And you had to work every single day since you were 15 to be able to get the things you wanted in life. And you never wanted something as badly as you wanted Mr. Wick.

You wanted his softness and care. You wanted his experience and the ability to reach the highest edges of paradise with the work of his fingers. You wanted the domination and the thinly controlled savagery that you could see peeking through his dark brown eyes. You wanted everything Mr. Wick was willing to give you and maybe that made you a crappy friend, but you weren’t about to give it up. Not even for Daisy.

Did that make you an awful person? That you were putting a man above your friend?

“Maybe,” you shrugged, taking off the lingerie while your body was still wrapped around the towel, replacing them with your usual cotton panties and sports bra. “I just saw it and thought it was pretty.”

“It’s more than just pretty,” Dasy said bouncing on the bed. “So, things are getting serious huh? When do I get to meet him?” You wanted to let out a hysterical laugh at the irony.

“I want to make sure it’s really serious before...” you bit your lip unsure. Before what? Before you confessed to your best friend? Before you knew if it was worth sacrificing your friendship over it?

“Alright,” Daisy shrugged, but you could see it bothered her not knowing. “As long as you’re happy. You are, right?”

“Yes.” You grinned. “Very happy. I’m spending the weekend with him,” you confessed, tone giddy and Daisy smirked.

“Nice! You won’t be able to walk for a week.” You giggled, covering your face. You sure hoped so.

“I should get going,” you got up, shoving the lingerie into your bag and turning to face Daisy. “What are your plans?”

“Just gonna head to my mom’s. Do some laundry, and hang out.”

“That sounds good.”

At the mention of Mrs. Wick that weight on your gut returned. You liked Daisy’s mom. She was so warm and kind. Even took the time to show you how to take proper photos with your camera and using telescopic lenses. You never considered the implications of fucking her ex-husband. Especially because you knew one of Daisy’s biggest dreams was to see her parents together again and here you were, playing the other woman.

“Have fun,” you said with a choked voice as you stepped out of the dorm, Daisy barely looking up as she called ��you too’ after you.

You took the bus to Mr. Wick’s house even if he had offered to pay for your taxi. It was a long journey and you wanted to take the time to center yourself and be ready for whatever the weekend had in store for you.

Once again, Mr. Wick had been away on business and you had to content yourself with your hands and toys while Daisy was in class, but they didn’t even come close to the high you got from Mr. Wick’s fingers or even his words. You keep playing and replaying your time together, the way he held you down and kissed you breathlessly and worshiped your body like the most gorgeous work of art.

Just thinking about it now was enough to send a flush of arousal through you, making you press your legs together and bite your lip as you stared out the window, watching the street lights passing you by, your skin being cooled by the air of the bus.

You took a second to stand outside his door, fixing your hair and making sure everything was in place before you rang the bell. The second you crossed the threshold, Mr. Wick had you in his arms, claiming your mouth in a kiss that was passionate and with just the right edge of teeth.

You hadn’t seen him the entire week and the best you got was a few text messages here and there, as he was busy with work, which you still didn’t know exactly what that meant. Daisy seemed unable to explain what her father did for a living beyond the general concept of something with import and export and that it took him out of the country a lot.

You didn’t understand how uninterested she could be about what her dad did but couldn’t exactly push the subject without attracting too much attention to yourself and your curiosity. You would have to ask Mr. Wick yourself, even if he seemed even less inclined to offer you any information either.

He pressed you against the wall of the foyer, dislodging your bag from your shoulder and it fell to the ground with a soft thud that you barely noticed, too busy enjoying the chapped lips that pressed against yours and the wicked tongue that seemed keen on finding and exploring every inch of your mouth.

You have barely caught a glimpse of him when you got in, noticing only dark fabric and you felt eager to look at the handsome face and kind and warm eyes.

“Wait, wait...” you said pulling yourself away with a little struggle.

You took a second to look at him and this was a far cry from the Mr. Wick you were used to. He was clad in a black, three-piece suit that looked tailored to perfectly fit his broad shoulders, strong chest, narrow hips, and thick thighs. His hair was slicked back with gel, exposing his face and showing a severe scowl. His eyes blazed with a sort of wildness that you hadn’t seen before and that went beyond just arousal. It was more like a salvage need and it was enough to make your blood boil.

“Never mind,” you sighed, letting him claim your mouth again, lift you up and take you to the couch, setting you on the armrest.

“Take those off before I rip it off.”

His voice was almost a growl as he tugged on your jacket and shirt so you obeyed as quickly as you could because you actually liked that jacket. You shrugged it off and yanked the shirt over your head, throwing carelessly to the side while he worked on your jeans, pulling it down your legs.

There wasn’t just rush in his movements, it was plain desperation that you could almost taste on his tongue as he kissed you. The smell of metal, close to shiny new pennies lingered on his skin, as well as that same acrid scent that reminded you of fireworks in fourth of July, but much more intense. Those smells were quickly becoming your favorites, along with the lingering smell of leather and paper, with just a touch of cigarette smoke. The scents that made up this man.

His kisses were harsh all over your jaw and neck. His beard rubbing like sandpaper over your skin and you knew you would end up with beard burns, but you didn’t fucking care. You could already feel the tightness in your cunt, that constant throbbing of arousal as blood rushed through your ears, being cut only by the clank of metal as Mr. Wick unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers, lowering them only enough to free his cock.

You glanced between your bodies to look at his erection, hard and hot and, leaking. You licked your lips, ready to get to your knees for him. You have been researching and practicing deep throating and you wanted to show him what you learned, but Mr. Wick held you still and tugged on your panties to expose your cunt to his heavy gaze.

A low rumble escaped his lips, like a feral animal looking at his prey as his fingers brushed against your swollen clit and slick entrance. Just checking how wet you were, how ready for him. Mr. Wick guided the tip of his cock to your slit and, through the haze of wildness in his eyes, you thought you saw a hint of hesitation.

“I can take it,” you assured, your arms coming around his neck, bracing yourself. You knew he was probably too big to take it all at once like this but at the same time, you knew this was something he desperately needed and you weren’t about to deny him. “Do it. Take what you need.”

It was all Mr. Wick seemed to want to hear because he pushed inside you with one hard thrust, making you scream.

It hurt. Fucking hell it hurt.

He was so huge and thick, and you could feel your walls stretching to try and accommodate him, your legs squeezing around his waist as if they wanted to close themselves, protect your most vulnerable spot from the intrusion but it was too late.

Tears prickled your eyes as you buried your face against his neck, weeping softly. And that made Mr. Wick pause, one of his fingers pressing under your chin, tilting your face up to look at you. That wildness was still there but laced with something else. Worry and maybe even guilt.

He gently kissed your eyes, as if to taste your tears, before he brought his thumb to your mouth, pushing past your lips and you sucked it on it, swirling your tongue around it, coating with saliva.

Mr. Wick took it out and brought it between your bodies rubbing your clit just the right way until the familiar sparks of pleasure were back. At the first quiet whimper of need, he started to grind against you and it was still a little painful but you were getting wet again, so it also brought you such arousal. Especially as he peppered kisses all over your neck and shoulders, softer this time, with just a hint of tongue and teeth caressing your skin and collarbones.

You buried your hands in his hair, tugging gently until you could reach his lips, sealing them with your own as you rolled your hips to meet his and Mr. Wick’s thrusts started to gain speed and strength according to the noises you murmured against his mouth.

Soon pain and pleasure mixed and you were doing your best to meet his thrusts, desperate for more, faster and harder. His grunts and growls spurring you on, your heels digging on the small of his back. You wanted to let him take everything from you. Use you for his needs like a dirty little whore. That thought filled you with such a deep lust that you barely recognized yourself or the steady torrent of filthy words coming out of your mouth.

“Please, sir, don’t stop. Fuck my pussy, make me hurt,” you were moaning against his jaw, your breath coming in short and hot puffs. “I like it when it hurts. I like feeling your big dick drilling into me.”

His hips were snapping so hard against you now, you could feel his balls hitting your ass. The wet sounds of your drenched cunt filled your ears along with your moans and his grunts. It was filthy and you loved it and the coil of pleasure kept tightening so hard inside your core at each stroke of his cock and swirl of his thumb on your clit.

You could feel your body beginning to tense in need, your thighs quaking and that delicious heat that always started at your center began to spread through your veins almost as if it was being driven by each sharp hit of his cock on your cervix.

“May I cum, sir?” you sobbed, fingers digging on his back, the fabric of his suit thick under your touch. You knew you weren’t going to last.

“No,” he growled, looking into your eyes, that dark edge returning as he brought a hand around your neck. You keened softly and nodded, trying to focus on anything else but the overpowering arousal going through you but it was impossible. Your entire being felt alight with it and you couldn’t hold yourself together.

“Please, please, sir,” your voice was a pathetic whine and there were tears in your eyes again. Mr. Wick wasn’t slowing down and you couldn’t control yourself.

Your climax felt like a rushing wall of fire, bright and all-consuming, especially as Mr. Wick easied his grip on your neck, letting blood flow again. Another scream tore through your throat as the high of oxygen made you dizzy and hazy. Your body convulsing and your cunt pulsing around his cock. It only spurred him to thrust harder and faster, his grunts becoming louder as he finally stilled and spilled inside you.

For a moment, the two of you just panted against each other’s cheeks, sweat cooling in your skin as you tried to recover from the intense sex. You could almost see the change happening in Mr. Wick. The ferocity from moments before dying down as his breathing slowed and his eyes cleared, being replaced by guilt and regret as he pulled out of you.

He dropped down on the couch cushions with a sigh, his fingers digging on his muscled thighs, head ducked low. Dread filled you. Did he regret it? Did you do something wrong?

“Mr. Wick...” you started softly, kneeling beside him, unbothered by the mess of fluids running down your thigh.

“You know, considering what we’re doing I think you can call me John.” His chuckle was almost self-deprecating as he turned his head to look at you.

“Alright. John.” The name felt foreign in your tongue, as you sat on your heels and looked at him. You two made quite a sight. Him, still mostly dressed, apart from the undone trousers, while you were a complete mess. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes,” he assured cupping your cheek but the smile he gave you was too sad for you to actually believe in it. “I just... this isn’t how I planned our time together to go. I shouldn’t have used you like that.”

“I don’t mind,” you said with a shrug and a smirk, turning your face and pressing a kiss to his palm before running your tongue teasingly over the calloused skin, making him smile. “Apparently, I liked to be used.”

“Still…” he sighed again and you took the opportunity to climb in his lap, arms coming around his neck again, not really caring about the mess you were making on his very expensive looking trousers.

“No. You don’t get to feel guilty for giving me exactly what I wanted,” you argued, hands cupping his jaw, forcing John to look at you. “I enjoyed every fucking second of it. You can wreck my pussy anytime you want.”

This got him to smile again and it looked a little more real this time, some of that guilt slowly fading as he rested his forehead against yours, breathing the remains of your cologne and the natural musky of your sweat.

“It isn’t supposed to be like that, darling,” he said. “If I’m gonna be your dom, I have to take care of you even if you are willing to push past your limits. I’m the one that’s supposed to say no to that.”

“It was a good hurt,” you replied with shrug. “I promise I liked it, more than I can put in words. And besides, you’ve given me so much; I’d like to let you take what you need in return.”

For a moment, John just stared at you in consideration then he pulled you closer for a deep kiss, full of gratitude and affection and something you were deeply afraid to think about too closely because it terrified you to realize you might be starting to grow feelings deeper than what would be healthy.

Once he pulled away, you caressed John’s face, tracing the sharp lines and you looked into his eyes as the two of you just breathed together. You wondered what had happened that broke through his control and made him so salvage with you. You wondered if you could ask.

“Not yet,” John breathed out, cupping your cheek like he could read your thoughts. “Maybe soon.”

“Ok.” You smiled, resting your forehead against his again. “I can wait.”

“Thank you.” He smiled too, tightening his grip on you and getting to his feet with you in his arms, your legs around his waist. “Let’s shower and then I’ll think about your punishment.”

“My punishment?” You frowned at him as John smirked and kissed you softly.

“I seem to recall you coming without authorization, darling.”

“Oh yeah,” you giggled, hugging him like a koala as he took the stairs towards the second floor and his bedroom, setting you on the bed long enough to shed his clothes. It was only then you realized you hadn’t seen John fully naked yet so you took the time to admire his beautifully shaped body.

As you first suspected, he wasn’t ripped like a gym rat, but built with solid muscles that one developed from working with your body for too long and once again you wondered what John did for a living to keep himself in such good shape because it didn’t strike you like something out of vanity.

He turned his back to you to set his clothes aside, giving you a perfect view of his tattooed back and your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t think anything could make him more attractive to you.

Apparently, you were wrong and before you could stop yourself, you came to your feet, running gentle fingers over the inked skin, and John shivered and tensed, turning around and catching you in his arms. Now you could see the scars dotting his pale skin, the long vertical line on his stomach being the most prominent one.

“John…” you started, but he kissed you into silence, distracting you from your questions as he tugged into the master bathroom and the shower stall, fingers finding that spot inside you and rubbing it until you were crazy with need and riding his hand into a brand new orgasm.

After the shower, you two lied in bed together, John in his stomach, and this time he let you ran your fingers over the dark ink adorning his back, tracing the slightly different texture of the tattooed skin as you explored the lines. Despite his relaxed position, you thought you detected a slight tension evident by the bunching of his muscles whenever your fingers landed on a scar.

“Do they mean anything?” You asked, fascinated by the man under your hands. “I mean, I know this one.” You traced the bold lines of the letters of fortis fortuna adiuvat across his shoulder blades. “My dad had one just like it. He was in the marines.”

“Had?” John turned his head to look at you.

“He died a couple of years ago.”

It was almost impossible to hide the small tremble of sorrow that always invaded your voice whenever you thought back on your dad. Here you were, trying to pry information out of him and John, completely silent managed to get even more out of you.

There was no point in doing this halfway now and you took a breath, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

“He was a cop and died on duty. Investigation ruled out as a random mugging gone wrong and the case went cold but he was investigating this Russian crime family. I always thought it might have been them but what do I know? I’m just a dumb girl.”

Your tone was bitter and angry, and you couldn’t help but pull away from John even more, feeling too bare and raw. Talking about your father’s murder always did that to you. Tears gathered in your eyes and you squeezed them shut, trying to steady your breath and ignore the tightening in your heart. You didn’t want John to think you were a pathetic little girl crying for daddy but sometimes you couldn’t avoid the bitter frustration.

He died two years ago, but it still felt like it happened yesterday. Back then, you had gone to everyone you could think of: your dad’s partner, his captain, the superintendent of the police department… anyone who you could try to ask for help. But they all repeated the same line that there was nothing they could do and let your father’s case just die down.

So you decided to take up the investigation yourself, taking hold of your father’s files on Tarasov’s family before the department could take them away. You also shifted your major to pre-law so you could get into the force. Follow his footsteps. You only had another year to go before you could apply to the academy. Maybe by then, you would have enough to prove they did it and no one would be able to ignore you again.

“I’m sorry about your father,” John whispered, his arms coming around you, his lips pressing soft kisses over your shoulder and nape. His tone seemed honestly apologetic and his hold comforting so it was easy to relax against his chest.

“Thanks,” you turned around, glancing at him from beneath your lashes. “Now you know my sob story. It’s your turn.”

There was a long moment of silence, the only noise in the room was the sound of both of your deep breathing. You almost thought that John wasn’t going to say anything, but after a kiss to your forehead, he finally spoke.

“I have no other family aside for Helen and Daisy. I grew up in a group home, never met my parents and I joined the Marines at 18 because I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“I’m so sorry, John,” you wrapped arms and legs around him and he chuckled at your nearly octopus-like hold on him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he kissed your forehead softly once again before he rested his chin on top of your head. “I should start dinner if we’re planning on eating something.”

“I am hungry, so get your ass to the kitchen, Mr. Wick.”

“Don’t be cheeky, young lady,” he smirked at you, his mock glare a pale comparison to the scowl you had seen hours before.

You just giggled letting go of John and watched him put on a pair of jeans before moving out of the room. For a while, you just lingered in bed, smiling to yourself every time you shifted your body and the dull soreness between your legs made itself known.

It was nice to feel the evidence of John’s passion and you were even happier that you managed to get out of him a bit of his story. Maybe this could lead to something more serious but that was something to think about in the future.

Right now, all you could think of was getting your clothes and the bag that remained at the foyer so you could put on the lingerie you got for John and you could distract him while he made dinner.

Trying to be as quiet as you could, you tiptoed down the stairs to the main floor of the house, wearing only one of John’s white button-downs. You managed to gather your clothes and move to the door to pick up the bag without alerting him. That was when you saw through the glass panels of the front door, Daisy jumping out of a taxi. Panic filled you and for a couple of precious seconds, all you could do was stand there, frozen in place.

All it would take was for Daisy to look up from her phone to see you. Fortunately, you managed to shake yourself and bolt out of the foyer, coming back to John’s room. Fuck! What were you gonna do now?

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buck-nialled · 4 years

Note

could you write something based on that Niall insta story with the chocolate and the “it’s the small things” where maybe y/n bought him the chocolate on her way home after work just because?? I don’t know if that makes sense

NOTE: been seeing a lot of negative stuff on my dash these past couple of days so I figured I could write a little and cheer this anon up and others too (hopefully). I kept the concept the same for the most part and just changed a few small things. Also made this a barista!niall au bc why the hell not? HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ANON, it’s a small thing but i hope it cheers you and others up :)

Take It - N. Horan Imagine

You had been infatuated with the man behind the counter the moment you stepped into the small café. Though, it was the smell that had captured your attention first. The aroma of coffee beans brewing winded around the block which you usually traversed through to get to your job. You were thankful you left early that morning upon reaching the building which had been under construction for quite some time, but now held large, red-printed letters on its window reading “NOW OPEN”. You did not fight the smile stretching on your lips as you entered the building and let your eyes cascade over the textured wallpaper lining the interior of the store, which mimicked that of aged stone. A small logo came into sight a few times as you gave cursory looks over more of the interior. Your heels clicked over the sanded hardwood flooring, which you admired for a moment or so until your eyes looked up and caught sight of something more captivating.

This something was adorning a black shirt, partially guarded by a green apron, with the familiar silhouette of the shamrock and a name embroidered beside it. Your eyes chose not to decipher the cursive and rather traveled upward to meet two clear oceans staring back at her.

“G’mornin! Welcome to Horan’s Coffee House, how can I help you?” The man’s lips peeled open, revealing a gorgeous set of teeth between his light stubble. You were still unsure if it was his smile or thick, accented voice that sent your knees into a small wobble and tongue tremble in apprehension. You chose not to think too hard about it though and reminded yourself that despite your leaving early, your schedule was still airtight.

“Um, I just need some coffee.”

“Sure, our coffee menu is right up here,” his hand motions toward a chalkboard right above him, where various drink options were listed, “or I could tell you about our special.” He offers, smile now residing to a quirk in the left corner of his pink lips. You tried refraining your curiosity, but his kind eyes could not help to tighten the metaphorical lasso his voice and smile already had wound around your body. You moved closer to the counter he was stood behind.

“And what might that be?” His tongue peeked out to lightly wet his lips at your interest. And he joined you in your eager state, leaning forward against the counter.

“It’s our Mullingar Macchiato, like regular macchiato but with a shot of Irish crème.” You hummed in interest, eyes flicking upwards and to the side in a pondering gaze. It made the range of the man’s smile increase as you did so and had him baring his teeth at you once more when you gave him a firm nod. “Alright, you sold me.”

“Perfect. I’ll start on that for ya right now, love.” Luckily, he had turned his back to you and face the machine as the blood ran up to flame your cheeks. You took the silence as an opportunity to let your eyes wander the interior of the store once more and think back to the man’s prior words.

“So…you’re Irish? That’s the whole theme of this place?” You question, turning away from the counter just in case he turned to peer at you. You were not confident the fire in your cheeks had dimmed down quite yet.

“Uh, yeah I guess you could say I was inspired. I’ve been cookin’ ever since I was little. When I finally left culinary school, I figured this was the best place to get started.”

An Irish-themed bakery was incongruous to this block of buildings, to say the least. The interior was like nothing Y/N had ever experienced. But with how expansive New York City was in its culture and wide-ranging heritage, it was nothing arbitrary in terms of the state. Your feet led you to a large case, which held all different and unfamiliar sweets. Among the various nametags, you picked out a few which piqued your interest the most: Bailey’s Cheesecake, Irish Apple Cake, Shortbread, Irish Oat Flapjacks.

“So…you made all of these?” You look up, ready to pivot to face the worker at the coffee machine but are startled to find him behind the case already. His arm lifted and the corner of his apron peered up enough for you to catch the embroidered name: Niall. He set the coffee atop of the case for you to take, which you did with a smile. The coffee made your hand feel warm, much like your insides when he spoke his reply.

“Yeah. I know they look complicated, but most of them have the same base of alcohol. That’s one stereotype I won’t deny being true.” Both of you chuckle as you nod your head.

“Trust me, I’m well aware. I studied abroad in Ireland for six weeks.” You had hoped this unnecessary knowledge you were spewing was helping your case, rather than hurt it. And it seemed like you made the right choice in sharing when Niall raised his brows at you.

“Really? What part?”

“Dublin.” You answer, bringing the lip of the cup to your lips for a sip. But before you could tip the cup back, a small scoff left Niall. Your brows furrowed as you let the lid leave your mouth, now slightly agape.

“What?”

“Please,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “Dublin is nothin’ compared to other towns in Ireland. It’s an overpriced tourist-sucker with extremely overpriced drinks.” He declares, unbridled.

“Well, I can confirm that last part.” You murmur. “So, you’re not from Dublin then.”

He shakes his head rapidly, very eager to dispute the thought as he informs you. “Mullingar.” And he is beaming once again after saying it.

“Mullingar.” You repeat, before furrowing your brows and glancing down to the warm cup in your grasp. “Like the name of this drink.”

“Aye, she’s catchin’ on!” He cheers, cueing you to roll your eyes.

“Whatever. Speaking of the drink though, I should probably pay you now.” Your voice declines in volume as your turn to fish your wallet from your purse slung on your shoulder. But Niall’s hands begin waving nonchalantly from your peripheral vision.

“Ah, don’t worry 'bout it. You’re the first customer since we opened this mornin’. It’s on the house!” He insists.

“What? No, let me—” Niall reaches to lightly shove your free hand away from the lips of your purse.

“I’m serious, don’t worry about it! If you end up liking it, which I’m sure you will,” you mimic the smirk that falls onto his lips, “you can pay next time you’re here. Swear it.” You carefully eye him, a suspicious squint only making his smile grow as you readjust the purse’s strap on your shoulders.

“Alright, here’s to hoping I like this drink then,” you raise the styrofoam cup before you are pivoting and walking out of the store. As you step out of the building, a man bustles in behind you, shouting desperately at Niall to see if he left his card there. You pause in your footing and glance back to see Niall consoling the man and handing him the credit card he had supposedly left in the store earlier. All you could do though, despite the small irritation within you, was smile and continue your journey to work with the shake of your head.

It had been three weeks since that morning, and approximately five additional visits to Horan’s Coffeehouse. Of course, Niall tried playing the same trick on you your next two visits, which you wanted to so badly refuse. But his voice, which was especially gravely one particular morning, and paired along with his charming pools for eyes, was enough to have you concede. The previous three, however, you refused to leave without paying which left Niall sighing and feigning pain from your card as it was accepted by the machine.

It made you feel accomplished, to have him taste his own medicine. That was until you checked your account later in the day to find various returns, all from the same place: Horan’s Coffeehouse. You despised how the sight made your heart flutter and gnawed on your lip in thought, the monitor on your desk at work mocking you with its blank stare. You were too concentrated on Niall to even concentrate on your current tasks. How you were ever going to let this man receive something, anything from you?

One particular memory played out in your collage of dreams that night. It was a morning you had visited Niall and took notice of a small chocolate bar hidden (not so well) in the register. You questioned him about it once the previous customer he was helping departed, leaving the two of you alone in the store.

“Can’t a man get cravings for chocolate, too? Damn,” He replied in his usual, jocular tone, before explaining how it was his favorite chocolate bar growing up, and remains so to this day. You think the best part about that conversation was you not even asking for the context of the chocolate, and how easily he justified himself to you. Of course, the dream ended much differently than that day did. Rather than leaving the shop with a smile like you always did, you somehow ended up on the counter with Niall’s face between your thighs and a never-ending string of moans leaving your lips.

But that’s not important. Not as important as your alarm waking you up with a jump in your heart and smile curling your lips upward as an idea came to mind. You bustled from your apartment as quickly as possible, not wanting to waste more time than necessary as you hurried out of your apartment and to the small shop near Niall’s and seeking out your treasure.

You underestimated how early you managed to arrive at Horan’s Coffeehouse, though, and nearly ripped the door handle off upon tugging it and not receiving its normal swing open. “Huh?” You muttered, attempting to dig your phone out of your pocket to check the time, a frame popped up beside you. Looking up, you found Niall smiling down at you as he was twisting the key into the shop’s door.

“Wow, you’re here early today.” He comments, swinging the door open. You meet his eyes and were certain there was no covering up your red cheeks now. “Well come on.” He chuckles, encouraging you to step inside the building with a small motion of his arm.

“So,” he sets down the Mullingar Macchiato, a drink you’d never grown tired of since beginning your mornings here, on the counter behind him to cool. “What brings ya here so early t'day?” he sets his arms down onto the counter and leans towards you curiously with a small smile. It was as if he already knew he was a constant thought of yours. Which, you would not be surprised if he admitted. You were not the most “subtle” person when it came to falling for somebody.

‘Well, I uh—I wanted to give you this…” You slowly reached in your purse and pulled out the chocolate bar. The same one he tries hiding in the register and does poorly at. His mouth falls open at the familiar label, and he takes it into his hands with a laugh of disbelief.

“I also want to go on a date with you.” You continue, “that is if you want to go out with me. And if you aren’t busy…or are already with someone else. In that case, I totally understand if—”

“Love,” he addresses, before cooing you in a shush. “You’re rambling…a date with you sounds lovely. I think I’d be an idiot to say no to tha’.” You bite your lip to hide the smile threatening to break out on your face.

“Cool…but I’m paying for it.”

“Of course,” Niall huffs out, face forming an expression of slight annoyance. “Knew there’d be a catch.”

“That’s my offer, Horan. Take it or leave it.” You straighten your stance, looking all business. Niall’s lips twitch back and forth in thought.

“How about I take the bill, and you leave the tip.” Niall counters, with a raise of his brows. You shake your head, rolling your eyes at him. “Alright alright, how about this. Come closer,” suspiciously, you inch towards his frame stood behind the counter. “Closer.” He encouraged, and you proceeded until your body was practically up against the counter’s rim.

“Wha—” before you could question his motives, his hand swoops down to grasp the back of your neck and let your lips collide with his as an answer. It was an answer you could not refuse, and your arms glided up and reached his shoulder blades to keep your lips pressed against his. When you finally broke apart, lightly panting, the smile which never seemed to leave Niall’s features was more prominent than ever as he grabbed the cup of coffee from behind him, “you take that…and leave with this.” He finishes as he places the cup down on the counter in front of you.

on the look for more niall stuff? my masterlist is full of it. seriously. go check it out!

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