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creepywrites · 8 months

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Toby

Trigger warning: mentions of self harm, suicide and sexual assault.

The gash on his cheek ended up healing, though it wasn't looked after which is why it took so long to heal, it has became a scar. He had gotten it from the car crash.

When Frank got angry, he'd beat Toby the least because he couldn't feel it, instead he'd usually lock Toby in a closet for a few hours.

He has no limit, he kills anything and everyone, though he hesitates killing blonde girls because they remind him of someone, but he can never figure out who.

He doesn't remember much of his life before, only that he killed Frank and burnt his whole neighbourhood to the ground. Everything else is a blank but he doesn't really question it.

Clockwork was his only friend, his girlfriend, she was the only reason he kept going, however eventually his mental health just got worse and worse, Clockwork wasn't enough anymore.

theres not a single soul on earth that toby trusts enough to fully rely on, in his mind all he has is himself now. especially after everything with his sister. he barely remembers it, but god does it follow him.

He loved being a Proxy at first, because it was something new, something he thought would always be refreshing and no one was going to mess with him anymore. It wasn’t. Toby was still being picked on, underestimated and made out to be small.

Toby was also became bored rather quickly after one year of it, it quickly turned into a routine.

This one of the many reasons why he committed suicide.

He was a pretty heavy smoker, it was one of his coping mechanisms for his anxiety, along with chewing or picking at his fingers.

He would project what he saw at home onto other kids when he was in middle school, this would cause a lot of fights and Lyra would always come to the rescue, until realising what he was doing and taught him what Frank is doing isn't okay, after awhile he stopped, only to do it again.

He was 167cm.

He never did high school and was home schooled after middle school because of all the bullying and harassment.

He'd get teased in class, bashed at lunch and followed home, and couldn't take it anymore and refused to go back so Connie and Frank took him out.

He's really good at cutting hair because of all the times he had to chop it off, but he never looks after it and if he even did cut his hair it'd be very sloppy.

Sometimes he'd cut Clockworks hair though and he’d do it well.

toby thinks with his fists more than he does his brain. he always has been and always will be a fighter, thats one thing he got from his father for better or for worse.

Toby's motor tics are blinking repeatedly, jerking his head or cracking his neck and hitting his chest.

His vocal tics are just him repeating words he heard or stuck in his head, he doesn't do vocal tics often. Whenever he goes out to kill someone he'd suppress them as best he can.

His tics calmed down after he was in his 20s, it only happens after a breakdown or if he’s feeling to much of an emotion.

He's always liked fire, because he can't feel it, he just sees pretty flames on his finger.

Toby used to have a big fear of cars and people drinking, and even though he doesn't remember his past it's like it's still lingering in his mind, he might get a sudden anxious feeling in a car or flinching if someones yelling to loud, but he doesn't know why and tries ignoring it.

He had a liking for human flesh, he got hooked because of all the times he's chewed on his hands and gums, he even took a bite out of Frank.

Though he wasn't nearly as addicted as other creepypastas, he just had it as like a snack.

Toby was a shut in, he barely left his room because he felt more safe in there.

Even now he's still a loner and doesn't like talking to people, or even being around them. Toby finds all the noise irritating and socialising just causes him to stress out and it becomes a cycle that causes him to stutter and than he's starting to think their judging him and now he's angry. Usually to avoid this he'll start off rude to begin with, hoping they'll leave him alone, which usually they do.

He's horrible at socialising for a few reasons, one of the main ones is because he never had any friends and was homeschooled, and doesn't know how to act.

Toby resented Connie, he blamed her for everything that was wrong with him and the family, if she had stopped being a coward and gotten rid of Frank they would of been better off.

He still gets hallucinations of Lyra though because he barely remembers her he just got used to it and doesn't care as much anymore.

Absolutely hates Slenderman, he liked him at first for saving him, he deluded himself into thinking that Slender Man is like a father figure who only has the best interests for him and the other Proxies, because why else would he save him? Toby always obeys Slenders orders without question. This lasted around a year until he snapped out of it. The only reason he would still listen is because he knows he wouldn't be able to take on Slenderman, and he doesn't have much of a choice.

He'd become very reckless in life, he just stopped caring about himself and would get injured a lot because of it. He has very little self respect for himself and he'd constantly do dangerous things hoping to get hurt, wanting something interesting to happen, his life was boring and just a slog to get through.

Him and Lyra weren’t that close, but they were all they had.

He didn't choose the name Ticci Toby, it was the public who gave it to him because he was rumoured to have tics, some of the proxies made fun of him for having his nickname be based on his disorder. He hates it.

He doesn't know a single word of German, no one taught him and he didn't care enough to teach himself.

Toby left the old hatchet on purpose, because it was dull and looked like it was on its last legs, he thought he might as well leave it there while also telling everyone that he's still alive.

He used to have a bunch of tablets to help him and when he became a killer it was hard at first for him to adjust without them.

He doesn't stutter anywhere close to when he used to, he only does it when he's nervous or anxious.

there were labels on the shower and a thermostat so Toby would know what was a safe temperature.

He didn't know what he wanted to do with his life, but after Lyras death he wanted to become a nurse for her.

He can't sweat and one of the things that started the bullying was when he had a stroke in PE.

It was second grade and they'd gone outside for soccer, he had over heated.

Toby is a fan of animals, his favourites are racoons, deer and frogs.

He likes the missions he has alone, walking through the woods and just watching the animals.

He's self harmed when he was a kid because he wanted to feel something, he feels empty a lot of the time. He would still do this now and again but Clockwork stops him when she sees him doing it.

He constantly self sabotages himself, a lot of his relationships became strained or were straight up ruined because of his paranoia and lack of self esteem.

Toby tends to have extreme dissociative episodes where he is barely grounded in reality. These can range from lasting hours to lasting days.

Toby gets into a lot of fights with Kate because he knows exactly how to push her buttons.

Toby gets really bad migraines because of Slendermam.

He can be very sarcastic at times.

He's very smart, he'd get B's and A's on most of his subjects.

He really liked learning because there wasn't much to do to pass the time.

He has really bad mood swings, his emotions can change in minutes, sometimes even causing him to breakdown.

Toby doesn't like Tim that much, he gets really jealous and wants to be like him, just being around him makes him mad because he's nothing like Tim and it infuriates him.

As he became more depressed he wasn't killing as much, he wasn't getting missions as much, he was becoming more useless.

He's not a picky eater, he'll eat pretty much anything because food can be hard to come by otherwise, he grew up like that too because they didn't have much food on the table. His favourite food is schnitzels and waffles.

He'd steal money sometimes, whether it was from Frank or from Lyra he didn't care where it came from.

He'd spent it on gum, usually, he ate a lot of it because it was supposed to help him stop chewing on his fingers and mouth. It didn't. It just made him less hungry. His favourite flavour was watermelon.

He loved sports when he was a kid, his favourite was football and volleyball. Though now he's fallen out of it.

He's had a recent appreciation for nature, he'd love going for a walk or just sit and watch the animals, sometimes he'll join Clockwork.

He loves Clockwork a lot, and he'd do pretty much anything for her.

He regretted not being with her more, because he genuinely likes being around her and felt he wasn't there for her enough.

Because of this he was considering breaking up with her, he didn't think he was good enough and wanted her to do better, but Toby could never decide if he actually wanted to and he never came to a conclusion and just left it as is.

When he's around her he changes a lot, he becomes more active and hyperactive.

He once stole Franks beer and drank a whole can, he hated it and it turned him away from alcohol altogether.

Toby wasn't allowed to cook in the kitchen because Connie was afraid he'd hurt himself or start a fire.

He used to be fairly lanky and skinny when he was younger but now he's more muscular, still lanky though.

Hates being touched.

His body has started healing weirdly because he either didn't know he had an injury or just left it there, this made his fingers not look right and bent.

He wasn't allowed to do much growing up, Connie never let him unsupervised because she was afraid he'd hurt himself somehow and not realise, and Frank wanted him to have as little freedom as he could, it was a lot easier to control Toby when he doesn't know how to do a lot of things, or can't go running his mouth to people.

During the night though on rare occasions he'd sneak out and just do what ever he wanted.

His favourite movie was Manhunter, and he really liked Hannibal Lecter, to the point he based his mask off of him. The goggles were for eye protection.

He had secret therapy sessions, but eventually Frank and Connie found out because of all the money they were losing. They were furious.

Frank kicked him out of the house, he wasn't allowed back in until 2 days later.

He had some of his clothes but that's about it, he had to fend for himself and buy any necessities.

After that he stopped going and never tried something like that again.

He gets mad pretty easily, he sometimes even took it out on his family, people trying to talk to him or even Clockwork on a few occasions.

He'd never properly apologise, either, he'd either give Clockwork a gift or just expect them to not be mad anymore. He talked about to Clockwork and he started apologising afterwards.

After Lyra died, he was sexually assaulted instead by Frank, Toby told no one because no one believed Lyra.

#creepypasta #headcanon #kate the chaser #clockwork #ticci toby #lyra

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icecoldwilliams · 4 months

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𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑪 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺 𝑩𝑬𝑽𝒀 | ✲・*:･ﾟ✲･ﾟ

❄️- Among the 3 factions of the Tekken force in Tekken 6, Nina's was probably on the smaller side compared to the other two, if only because she was the most strict of who she took in. Given her cynical views on most men, while there definitely were still a large number in her faction, hers likely lead in the percentage of women on the force. (Also unless somehow someday someone decides to write her & state otherwise, I absolutely headcanon the scrapped concept character "Zoey" was one of her soldiers - if you want her on your team you'll have to fight Nina, I don't make the rules) ❄️- Depressing af, but if you were to show Nina video of her from the first two tournaments or prior, she'd just... feel numb. She's almost completely disassociated herself from who she once was prior to her amnesia, the experiments and being brainwashed. She might not even use "I" observations. — Show her video of her from the third tournament and she wouldn't be able to sit through the whole thing. Not saying a word as she calmly just stands up and leaves the room. 😔 ❄️- Also kinda sad. But to dive deeper into my headcanon that Nina isn't typically a fan of sweets, it's not necessarily that if offered she wouldn't like them? It's more so Richard probably disapproved of them and most other joyful childish things like Santa Claus or amusement parks, etc. while she was growing up, and she still subconsciously carries that cynical negative impression with her. – I mean this is the same guy who had his child go through emotional suppression experiments along with rigorous training. While I'm sure there were few times when the two were allowed to be kids - they watched cartoons, they probably had toys - their childhood was very rigid and there was a lot they didn't get to experience. Add into account how unhealthy sweets can be, and you know they were highly restricted / frowned upon. And taking into consideration how much Nina looks up to her father... enough said. 😔 ❄️- ^ On a happier note however, bc of that, if someone she cares about were to gift her something sweet or something she might deem childish like a stuffed animal, she is definitely the type to act unimpressed, while later if you're lucky you might just find she secretly kept it anyhow. ❄️- I feel like if Nina watches crime shows or podcasts, it's on days where she hasn't executed a hit in a while, and she does nothing but pinpoint the killer right away, and critique their actions. Judging why they chose to kill, every mistake the killer made along the way? Yeah she's catching them, she's judging, she's sipping her 4th cup of tea for the day. ☕️ ❄️- Also you didn't hear it from me, but the secret to Nina's evil mist attacks? Dissolvable capsules under her tongue. 😶

#⁺˚*𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓅 𝒶𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒.*˚⁺ - OOC Post #⁺˚*𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒿𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔.*˚⁺ - Headcanons #|| if you can't already tell - I'm running out of title ideas for these lol #|| I don't want them to be all the same bc I feel like it'll help anyone going back + looking for a specific one?#|| but anyway!#|| for anyone wondering: you can blame sim Zoey for somehow being one of the few to befriend Nina for that first one 💜#|| bc yes I made the scrapped characters too leave me alone c':#long post tw

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thenexusofsouls · 2 months

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For Nat and Clint:

4. What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

5. Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

18. Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

37. What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

42. If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

56. If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

__________

{i am the caretaker of souls} Below the cut for length! =)

4. What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Clint - Hunting. Just good ol’ fashioned out in the woods, full camo, hunting, heh. Usually buck. Also fishing. He likes the great outdoors, and there’s something very satisfying about catching/hunting your own food and seeing it through to the end. It’s gotta be done humanely, though, of course.

Natasha - Honestly? Dancing. She doesn’t dance nearly as much as she used to, for obvious reasons. But despite the reasons behind why she was initially taught how to dance and why to dance, she actually does really love it, especially ballet and lyrical styles. It’s very therapeutic for her, especially to do alone. It’s like meditation, but more importantly, it reminds her that 1) her body is her own now, and 2) it can be used for beautiful things too, not only killing.

5. Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

Clint - Yes, although I don’t know that he’s ever had a reason to. If he ever had to, though, all he’d have to think about is something terrible happening to Laura and the kids, and maybe even about it being his fault somehow, and that would bring out the waterworks every time.

Natasha - Yes. She thinks back to how she wasn’t able to protect Yelena and keep her from being scooped up by the Red Room and just lets the guilt she usually suppresses really hit her. It’s enough to get her going every time, and fairly quickly on the spot too.

18. Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

Clint - Laura, his kids, and Nat.

Natasha - Yelena, Clint, and Steve.

37. What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

Clint - How much he sometimes really enjoyed sticking it to the bad guys. Clint isn’t overly a fan of killing, but there’s been some times when it has felt good because he knew he was taking out someone really despicable. He’s afraid of being judged for that, or what it might mean on a deeper psychological level, so it’s not something he’s ever told his romantic partners, not even Laura.

Natasha - I mean, with the exception of Bruce (I personally really disliked that whole ship, heh, but if you loved it, that’s totally fine!), she really doesn’t share that she can’t have kids. It’s bad enough that she physically just can’t have them, but it’s also an emotional issue too, kindof a feeling of being less of a woman, not a whole woman, or not a whole person someone would want as a romantic partner. Besides that, I don’t think she’s ever told her romantic partners even half of all the assassinations she’s done, and how they were carried out. Some of the methods she used, both weapons-wise and through manipulation on her part, she’s quite ashamed of.

42. If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

Clint - “10 Things You Didn’t Know About The Avengers,” a presentation about humanizing the Avengers and seeing them as the people they are, instead of the larger than life heroes the media sometimes portrays them as. He’d love to do something like this to everyday public audiences as part of helping them to understand and trust the team they might look to for protection.

Natasha - “The Power of Women,” a presentation about women for women, focusing on the strengths they have rather than their vulnerabilities, how women can maintain some agency in the most compromising of circumstances, and how to turn setbacks, fears, and traumas into personal motivation. This kind of topic would really mean a lot to her, and I could honestly even see her teaching self-defense courses to women.

56. If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

Clint - If he’s at home, Laura, for sure. If he’s not home, he’ll try to call her. And no, it doesn’t... she’s his go-to whenever he needs someone to kindof talk him down out of his own head a bit. Clint is a catastrophizer, and sometimes he needs help to take a breath or take a step back from things and focus on the here and now, not on what hasn’t even happened yet (and might not).

Natasha - It would change based on the type of fear. For doubts about being an Avenger, political/legal worries, or strategic anxieties, she’d go to Steve. For doubts about her own character and fears that she’ll never be able to be a better person, she might go to Steve, but she’s more likely to go to Clint. If things get really dark and her fears make her really retreat into herself (it doesn’t happen often, but it does happen), then she’d need to just be alone.

#muse: clint barton #muse: natasha romanoff #submission

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mostly-marvel-musings · 3 years

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hi can u write a bucky femxreader where they hate each other and have a really loud yelling and fighting session and then it turns into a heated passionate makeout sesh and it goes from there (enemies to lovers hate sex!!!!)

Sparring

A/N: Okay here we have some angry sex with Mr Barnes, let me know if I nailed it!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, angry sex.

Word count: 1.4+

Requests & Challenges

Bucky Barnes Taglist - @marvelgirl7

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Taglists are open folks! Send me an ask or DM to be included in any of these ;))

“Again!”

Your arch nemesis yelled as you landed on the rubber mat with a huff, back hurting from being repeatedly thrown around during the sparring session. It wasn’t your day apparently and you kept missing punches and ended up on the floor more than you should have. Your sparring partner was a trainee which added insult to injury and given that you were being judged and yelled at by James Buchanan Barnes was just another blow to your ego.

It was no secret that you two didn’t get along. Years ago when he was the Winter Soldier, you had been sent by Shield to track him down in Bucharest which had gone south very quickly. You had almost lost your life and if weren’t for Natasha coming to your rescue, you wouldn’t have been here to hate him. The permanent scar on your abdomen thanks to his metal arm and the fact he’d choked you until you’d passed out – the now invisible finger marks around your throat were enough to remind you of all the hatred you felt towards him even years after he’d joined the good side.

“Are you snoozing over there (Y/L/N)? We’re not done just yet, let’s try it again.” Bucky’s harsh voice snapped you out of it as your opponent helped you stand up. You glanced at the man who had a look of disapproval on his face.

Channeling your rage was easy, you managed to get a few good kicks in and knocked your partner Jake down a couple of times, eyes flitting towards Bucky to make sure he was looking at your progress, but he didn’t seem fazed. Rolling your eyes, you went over to grab water from your gym bag to take a breather when Bucky stopped you.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Taking a little break. Don’t I get five minutes?”

“You’ll get a break when I say you can.”

“Hey I think we’ve had enough, we can call it a day.” Your partner offered, trying to diffuse the tension that was building.

He dismissed Jake but asked you to get back on the mats with him instead, you knew this was coming. You went for the water anyway while Jake got his things and left sending a sympathetic look your way as you wiped some sweat off with a towel.

Bucky flexed his arms till you joined back, just a little show off that you didn’t care about before you prepared yourself, guards up. You had to ignore his critical look at your stance otherwise you were sure to have punched him in the face right there and then.

You were quick to attack first but it was almost as if he was expecting the move, he dodged it with minimum effort and held you in a headlock, the metal arm around your neck while the other held your head making it slightly difficult for you to breathe.

“That was sloppy.”

His voice was low and breathy against your ear while you made futile attempts to free yourself. He did you a favour and let go, only to land a kick against your sides which you thankfully blocked just in time.

The sparring session went on for a while with you taking blow after blow, blocking a mere handful but adding to Bucky’s annoyance and your own rage. A final move had you pinned underneath him, his face inches from your own, the dog tags he always wore clinking against each other as they fell out of his training shirt. Bucky’s eyes shamelessly roamed over your heaving chest as the sweat made your skin glisten, the strands of hair that escaped your ponytail and clung to your forehead, your eyes that bore into his, defeat hidden beneath the simmering fire.

“I thought you were one of the good ones (Y/N). You disappoint me.”

“It’s funny how I thought the exact same thing about you Barnes.” You seethed before you pushed him off, stood up and went towards the bench where your bag was.

“We’re not done h—”

“Yes we are! I think I’ve had enough humiliation to last me a decade from you today. I don’t care if what you say, I’m done.” You turned around heatedly as you yelled, your voice echoing in the empty gym, stopping Bucky in his tracks as he watched angry tears gather in your eyes.

“You let emotions get in the way (Y/L/N) that never makes for a good agent which I had my doubts if you were, now it’s pretty clear.”

“Oh I’m sorry not all of us were brainwashed to be cold-hearted assassins Barnes.”

That was a step too far, you knew it, he knew it, but you were practically fuming at this point and it just slipped out.

Bucky took slow, deliberate steps towards you, making you back away until your back hit the wall, as he stopped right at the point where your chests were almost touching. His human arm slid along your sides before he wrapped his hand around your throat.

“I can be cold-hearted when it comes to others things too little girl.” He whispered dangerously, the grip tightening just a little, enough to elicit a whimper from your lips.

“Don’t call me a little g—”

Before you could finish, his mouth slanted over yours in a bruising kiss that took you by surprise at first but soon you found yourself kissing him back with equal if not greater fervour. Wedging his knee to push your legs apart, his hand left your throat to pull the straps of your sports bra down to expose your breasts. Bucky’s tongue mingled against yours in an assault while he kneaded your breasts before tracing a pattern down your neck to the valley between your breasts where he sucked possessively. A groan fell from your lips when he grazed his teeth over your pert nipples.

Your hands desperately grabbed his shirt before pulling it over his head and throwing it somewhere in the back. He picked you up by the back of your knees before taking you over to a bench and carefully laying you on it, all while attacking your mouth with his ruthless kisses. Your eyes remained shut as you felt trapped in a heady mix of the need you felt for this man and the desire to have him in you right here in the compound gym and you were sure he felt the same as your leggings slid down your legs along with your panties to join the heap of clothes on the floor.

“You’re soaked baby girl… is that for me?”

Bucky’s fingers toyed with your glistening folds before sliding a finger inside as you gasped at the intrusion. Your eyes flew open just enough to watch him close his lips over your bundle of nerves while he added another finger, stroking your walls and stretching you out. Just as you were about to cum, Bucky pulled his fingers out causing you to whine out loud.

“Cold-hearted assassin was it?”

Previous anger came flooding back as you sat up only to push Bucky on the floor as he stared back at you, equal parts surprised and impressed. Undoing his pants in a hurry, you freed his erection and pumped his cock a few times, swiping your thumb across the tip to collect the precum. He watched you in awe as you worked him up, doing absolutely nothing to stop you as you straddled his hips before sinking down on his length.

“Oh fuck…”

“Where was all this aggression?” Bucky growled, grabbing your hair roughly to pull you down for a kiss as you began rolling your hips. Your eyes mapped every plain and dip of his chiselled torso all while your mind thought of ways to make him shut up.

Your nails scratched marks on his shoulders as you picked up the pace gradually, your sensitive nub brushing against his pubic bone every time but you wanted more. You drew tight circles with your own hand chasing your release before Bucky slapped it away only to replace it with his own deft fingers.

He began thrusting up faster, jaw clenched to suppress his moans, filling the room with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your mewls as your walls fluttered around his cock deliciously, your orgasm consuming you whole, clouding your thoughts and triggering his release as his cock twitched before filling you with thick ropes of cum.

You collapsed against his sweat-lined chest and lay there for a bit, slowly floating back to the land of the living.

“Why do you hate me?” Bucky asked after you parted to put your clothes back on.

“Why do you?” You countered.

“You’re an obstinate incorrigible woman.”

“And you’re an arrogant piece of shit.”

The glares you gave each other melted away as smiles began appearing in place of them as you head out of the gym together, the after effects of your activities showing.

“You want to grab a bite to eat later?”

“No. I still don’t like you Barnes.”

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #fatws bucky #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes

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szallejhscorner · 3 years

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Hello again :) 🎶 Could I please ask for a continuation of that last story “A Soul to Recover”? I think a second part would fit pretty well, like with lots of fluff and cuddles. (also if possible in 2nd pov ^^’).

By the way, I love your writing style and its really amazing how fast you respond to requests ^_^

Hallu! x3

Sorry I took so long to answer this time. I hope you'll like this nonetheless! And I'm still waiting for the strawberry ask, hehe ~

Never Again

You’re trembling all the way back to your room. The hoodie Chishiya gave you is warm, but it still isn’t enough to chase away the cold that has spread throughout your whole body. Never before have you felt so vulnerable. Exposed.

Again and again do you throw a nervous glance over your shoulder to see if anyone is following you. If Niragi is following you. But there’s just you and Chishiya, whose expression is as grim as you feel.

Finally, the door falls shut behind you and you hear the rattling of the chain lock. You’re safe, for now. So why won’t the trembling stop?

You drop down on the bed and wrap yourself in the bedspread to cover every last part of your body. Too much of it has been exposed today.

We’ll have fun, you and me! You won’t stop dreaming about this once we’re done.

That monster has been right – you definitely won’t stop having nightmares about this wrecked man for a while. The sob escapes your mouth before you can do anything against it, and more follow quickly.

“Shhh.” Chishiya sits down behind you and wraps his arms around your shoulders. For a single moment, you want to push him away, afraid that every touch will bring back the memories. But the blanket still covering you softens his touch, and it’s Chishiya after all. Everything about him is different – he is not Niragi.

Feeling as safe as you can in this moment, you allow yourself to finally break down. All the emotions you have suppressed during the last hour, the pain, the anger, most of all the fear hit you with such a power now that you feel like falling endlessly into a pitch black hole, not being able to escape it ever again.

Why you? Since your first day on the Beach, you have never been worth Niragi’s attention. What made that change now?

Tell your boyfriend just how much fun we’ve had, yes?

Maybe you’re just a means to an end after all. Chishiya’s weak spot; an easy way to hurt him. Successful, as it seems.

You don’t dare to think about what would have happened if Chishiya hadn’t come to rescue you in time. The pain of all the scratches and bite marks all over your chest are enough already. They will take time to heal, forcing you to look at them every day, and Chishiya as well.

Speaking of whom, he hasn’t spoken a word since you escaped Niragi’s room. He’s probably as miserable as you, only in a different way. Most likely he’s angry at himself for not coming to your aid sooner; angry that you had to go through this simply because he and Niragi feel such a deep hate for each other.

“Thank you”, you whisper when the sobbing has ceased and your breathing goes more normal again. His body tenses and he wraps his arms around you more tightly.

“This shouldn’t have happened at all”, he says with a pressed voice, and you shift slightly so you can lean your head against his chest.

“It’s not your fault.”

Well, maybe it is somehow, but it’s not that Chishiya wanted you to get hurt. It’s the least thing he’d want for you. Judging by his snort, he doesn’t agree but won’t argue with you. Slowly warming up, you notice the blood still on your skin, and you feel stained. So incredibly stained.

As if Chishiya has been able to read your mind, he removes his arms and runs his fingers through your hair instead. “Do you want to take a shower?”

You nod. “I want it to last for the rest of my life.” Will you feel better after that, or will the stains remain on your body, invisible to others but painfully obvious to you?

Chishiya helps you to get up, but he keeps the blanket around your shoulders. For someone so indifferent to other people’s emotions, he knows exactly what you need right now. Your legs still feel like pudding, and you’re glad that strong arms are guiding you towards the shower slowly and carefully.

“I’ll bring you fresh clothes once you’re inside”, he mutters and closes the door after preparing everything with towels so you won’t have to do it.

Breathing in deeply, you drop the blanket to the floor and take off the hoodie. The image inside the mirror mocks you, but you still have to look back.

The bikini is tattered, but you wouldn’t want to keep it anyway. Not with the memory of this day sticking to it. As soon as you feel able to leave your room, it will be burned. Maybe you’ll even ask Chishiya to do it with you. You don’t want to keep a reminder of how Niragi tore it apart, how he tried to make you scream through biting your skin. That’s a victory you denied him at least.

The marks will heal, and you’ll make sure there won’t be scars left to see. Your body will forget about what happened, and so will you.

You remove the bikini pants and throw them aside together with the remains of the top. The trembling has started again, so you hurry to step under the shower. The hot water running down your body immediately helps you to feel better, and you close your eyes while it takes the blood and saliva with it.

It would have been too hot for you under other circumstances, but now the temperature is just perfect. Not yet enough to actually hurt, but it fights the cold and burns away the unwanted touches all over you.

While you’re washing away the foam from the third time of soaping yourself, you hear the bathroom door open. The milk glass of the shower doesn’t allow you to see the details, and Chishiya doesn’t say anything as he places a bundle of clothes next to the shower. A few moments later, he’s gone.

You keep the shower going for a while, until your skin is too soaked and sensitive to stay under the water any longer. The wounds look way less terrible now that they’re clean, and you carefully pat yourself dry before exiting the shower.

With a smile you notice that Chishiya has brought you not only your favorite bikini, but a very comfy jump suit as well. It wouldn’t be allowed to wear outside of your room, but for now it’s just perfect since it covers almost every part of your skin. And the torn bikini is gone.

The air outside the bathroom is much cooler compared to the hot steam you produced in the shower, and you spot Chishiya sitting on the bed with a book in his hands – and a huge bowl of half-melted ice cream next to him.

“When did you…” you start, slightly uncomfortable with the thought that he left the room while you were taking a shower. There’s no possibility to lock it from the outside. What if Niragi would have gotten back while Chishiya was gone…?

Chishiya smirks, places the book aside and pats on the sheet for you to sit as well. “I didn’t. What happened in Niragi’s room wasn’t exactly subtle, and Kuina brought this for you. She said you’d need it.”

Kuina. How could you be so lucky to have both Chishiya and Kuina next to you? That woman has to be an angel, and she manages to prove it day after day.

“Ohh, I do!” You leap onto the bed and focus on the ice cream before it completely turns into liquid, thinking about what Chishiya just said. If half of the Beach already knows what Niragi tried to do with you, then they know what you did to him as well. It’s a pleasing thought that this bastard has finally been given some resistance, no matter if it has just been a kick into his private parts.

A relieved sigh comes from the man sitting next to you while he slowly runs his fingers through your hair, and you look up in surprise. “Seems you can already smile again”, he explains with a shrug, earning himself an ice-cream-flavored kiss. “Will you let me take a look at the wounds now?”

Part of the warmth vanishes at the thought, but you know it’s necessary if you really don’t want any infections or scars to remain. And who could do that better than Chishiya?

With a shaky breath, you open the zipper of the jacket and take off the bikini top. Chishiya frowns deeply at the sight; not because he hasn’t seen you naked yet, but because he has to face the fact that you have indeed been hurt.

The good thing is that none of the wounds are worrying. The disinfectant burns, but the ointment Chishiya puts on after is soothing. Two small plasters on the deeper bite marks, and you’re done. And once you’re fully clothed again, you find yourself in just another hug.

“You know I love you, Chishiya Shuntarou”, you murmur, because no matter what happens, he’ll be there. He’ll always know what you need the most, no matter if it’s a soft jump suit or a wordless cuddle session. And no one, not even Niragi, will ever be able to change that.

Chishiya kisses the top of your head, and it doesn’t even bother you that he never says it back. Nothing could prove his feelings better than what he did to get you out of Niragi’s claws.

“I won’t let that happen again”, he promises, once again answering your thoughts. “He won’t be able to hurt you from now on. Never.”

#chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #shuntaro chishiya #chishiya x reader #alice in borderland #aib #oneshot #war das genug Fluff für Dich? x3 wenn nicht sag Bescheid - dann gibt es mehr!

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novaiya · 3 years

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That Old Time Feeling - Hosea x Reader

Summary: Based on a request asking for a reassuring hug from Hosea <3

Words: 1,037

Warnings: none.

Here it comes, that old time feeling, when it feels like the race will never be won and there’s no point in even running. The day wasn’t different from any other days; the camp was bustling with people working, talking, planning. The girls were busy with laundry and sewing, and the men were either out or doing other camp chores such as bringing hay or chopping firewood. Everything was as it always is, except you. Your day was soured from the moment you woke up, having gone to bed the night before in a bad mood. The sameness of the camp that brought security to some scared you; were you meant to always live like this? To always have a cold cot out in the forest, instead of a warm bed in a home? To eat the same stew for the rest of your life instead of a balanced meal? The thought made you shudder and hide in the depths of your mind, rendering yourself unavailable for anyone for the day.

Everyone from Miss Grimshaw to Lenny to even Arthur came up to you throughout the day to ask how you’ve been, or lend a shoulder to cry on or an ear to talk off, but you kept to yourself. You weren’t the one open up like that, to show your weaknesses. It’s common for people to listen when someone is weak, only to use the same words against them later on. You couldn’t risk that, so you kept the feelings to yourself, bottling them up and setting them on a figurative shelf with all the other emotions you’ve bottled up throughout your life.

You were sitting on the edge of the camp, your hands in your lap as you stared out into the distance. You could hear the sound of birds, their song sounding clear in an otherwise quiet sky. You followed their movements, studying the flap of their wings as they soared through the sky. You smiled to yourself as you thought about what it would be like to be a bird, to be free and go wherever you wanted. The thought that even the birds were chained to the sky didn’t cross your mind.

“Thought I’d find you here,” sounded behind you, and before you had time to turn around, Hosea sat down next to you with a grunt.

Despite pushing away everyone who tried to talk to you today, you were happy to see Hosea. He was one of the only people you felt comfortable opening up to. Despite being of the leaders of the gang, he was much more approachable than Dutch, and more eloquent than Arthur, which made him both a great friend to talk to and even a better listener. You always felt that you could talk to him without being judged or scared that he would use your words against you.

“People are worried,” he said after a while. “You’ve been really quiet today, is something bothering you?”

You averted your gaze to the ground, Hosea’s words shaking your figurative shelf a little bit.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this for, Hosea,” you finally said. “The years are passing by, yet I feel like I have nothing to show for them except for a few scars and repressed memories. People my age have a home and a stable life at this point, and what do I have? A cot.”

Hosea listened to you, nodding his head as you kept talking. He understood perfectly what you meant. From time to time, he too felt like he wasted his life away. When Bessie was still with him, he thought that he had a chance at a better life, at something more, but once she was gone, so were his hopes and dreams. The remembrance of that made him realize that he didn’t want the same for you. You were still young, full of potential and energy, you could still make it.

“You’re still young, kid, you can still make it- No, don’t give me that look. You’re still young,” he said as he looked at you. “What are you? Twenty something? You still have a whole life ahead of you.”

You could feel a lump come up your throat, could already taste the tears that were bound to spill.

“I don’t think I deserve it. What I’ve done-I don’t think a person like me deserves a chance.” Your words jumbled up together as tears spilled from your eyes, running down your cheeks to your lips and down your chin. You could taste the saltiness of them. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a wail that so strongly wanted to be let out.

Only the young people could cry as you were doing right now. The tears, although brought on by sadness, were full of hope and youthful glow. It showed that despite your words, you still had hope deep inside. Only those with hope could still cry.

With an easy hand, Hosea circled your shoulder and brought you closer to him. The action only made you cry louder and finally let the pathetic wail out. You let him envelope you in his arms, and you hid your head in his shoulder, tainting his vest with your tears. It was as if an earthquake had hit your metaphorical shelf, shaking it with vigor, dropping all the bottles on the ground, causing them to break and spill their contents in a form of tears down your cheeks.

In that moment, you didn’t care about being seen or heard in the state that you were. Hosea’s soft whispers, words of support and encouragement, together with his hand that was softly stroking you back was the best remedy you could ask for, and it was exactly what your aching soul needed.

He was a wise man, Hosea, having been alive longer than people in his line of work usually were. Everyone, you included, always trusted him, being the voice of reason that he was between the hot headed Dutch and still relatively young Arthur. The years, although not kind, thought him a thing or two, so if he said that you still had a chance, then maybe you did.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #rdr2 imagine #hosea matthews #rdr2 headcanon #rdr2 fanfics #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfics #hosea #hosea x reader #hosea matthews x reader #red dead redemption fanfic

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rosaliepostsstuff · 3 years

Text

A bit emotional || G.W.

pairing: George Weasley x reader; brother-in-law!Fred x reader

summary: Emotions have been getting the best of Y/N lately and while George is away on a work trip, Fred helps her discover something.

word count: 2437

warnings: mentions of urine, mentions of food, pregnancy, brief mention of sex, talk of biological parenting

tags: @izzyyy-1 ; @amourtentiaa ; @hufflepuff5972 ; @pandaxnienke ; @wheezyweasleys ; @harrysweasleys ; @ickle-ronniekins ; @starlightweasley ; @pxroxide-prinxcesss

Feedback means the world to me!!

It was early afternoon on a Saturday, you found yourself in the bathroom of your flat above the shop. You had been ready to take action – your hair up, comfy clothes on, sleeves rolled up. Cleaning the bathroom was your duty – part of the agreement the three of you made when you moved in with George and Fred a couple of years before – when you and George had gotten married. The three of you shared the house chores according to what each of you disliked the least and it worked. Well, usually.

The whole bathroom was an absolute mess. You had cleaned it thoroughly the week before, as usual. There were splash stains all over the mirror. You swore you could smell urine in the air the whole time, which later confirmed not to be a figment of your imagination – the floor around the toilet was covered with tiny dots of dried stains, accumulating every time those two went to pee, due to their heights. You looked at the hamper, the lid wasn’t closed properly, a pair of boxers hanging on its edge.

“Fred!! George!!” you shouted out. They knew you well, and they knew better than to test your patience when you used that tone and volume. Without a word, you heard one chair move in your living room, then someone got up from the couch a second later. They stepped through the small hallway carefully and peaked their heads through the bathroom doorway.

“Whose are those?” you asked flatly, pointing at the boxers, then turned to them and placed one hand on your hip.

“Mine,” Fred answered after a glance.

“Is it that hard to put them in properly?” you questioned as soon as he finished.

Fred bit his tongue, suppressing a comeback. He walked over to the hamper and fixed it.

“And who used the toiled last?” you continued, pointing at the open toilet lid with a nod and folded your arms on your chest.

George avoided your gaze, walking over to the toiled to close the lid.

The bathroom situation didn’t stay long on your mind, though, nor did it affect the atmosphere in your shared flat. In the two weeks that followed, however, similar, smaller situations happened. For example, when it was Fred’s turn to cook, he added too much salt for your liking, but the way he likes his food – again.

“You know well that you can add some more salt on your plate, but I can’t make it less salty, can I?!” you complained.

A week later, George had to leave for a work trip. It was his turn, while Fred stayed at home to keep an eye on the shop.

You dreaded the day he was supposed to leave and you tried not to let it show. You cursed yourself as you wiped fresh tears with your sleeve, looking at George who was checking if he took everything before saying goodbye. You were angry with yourself at getting so upset – this wasn’t the first time you’d been apart, and it was only 4 days. You were married, but not tied up together, you were still separate people. Sure, you always missed each other, but you never got this dramatic.

“Heey, baby, what’s up..?” George asked after looking up from his bag, noticing your tears. He closed the distance between the two of you in a few long steps and wiped your tears with his thumbs as you wrapped your arms around his middle automatically.

“It’s- it’s nothing…” you still tried to stop more tears from coming and pressed your face to his chest as he embraced you tightly. “I’ll just miss you, you know…” you tried to sound casual.

“I’ll miss you too, darling,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His tone was sincere but slightly puzzled, he wasn’t expecting that big of a reaction. “It’s just 4 days and then I’ll be back,” he told you softly.

You cherished his embrace for a little bit longer before you said your goodbyes and let him apparate.

The first day and a half passed somewhat peacefully. You tried to focus on your own work and then find something to occupy yourself with once you were back at home. At least you weren’t completely alone – one could never feel alone with Fred around.

I was mid-afternoon, you had both just come back from work. You were stood in the kitchen, looking into the fridge without much interest. Fred was fixing some kind of sandwich for himself. You closed the fridge door then looked over at the mysterious mixture he poured over the sandwich and scrunched your nose up in disgust.

“Are you gonna eat that?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Smells disgusting, I’m getting nauseous…” you said, turning your back to him to put the kettle on.

“I dunno, smells good to me,” he stated simply, licking some of it off his finger and after a few seconds added “maybe you’re just pregnant.”

And then it hit you. How could you not think of it? How is it that when you’re trying not to get pregnant, the smallest things can seem like pregnancy symptoms to you, but now, you had missed all of them?

George and you had stopped using birth control about a month ago. You weren’t necessarily trying for a baby – you wanted one, sure, and figured the time was right. But both of you believed it would just happen sooner or later while you continue with your usual sex routine. You didn’t want to get too hung up on this and end up like some other couples you’ve heard of. For it to happen during your next cycle, however?

Fred turned to you, confused, after not hearing you get back at him for that joke. You turned around to look at him with a calm expression.

“You know, I might be,” you said seriously, trying not to freak out.

Fred’s eyebrows shot up immediately, his eyes open wide and he started nodding slowly, processing the information.

You walked out of the bathroom to see Fred leaning against the wall, biting his lip. He looked at you right away expectantly. You walked next to him and slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

“5 minutes,” you told him, and he followed after you, sitting down.

“Did you… do you want to..?” he trailed off and you looked up at him. “What do you want it to say?”

“Oh,” you looked back down at your hands. “Both is fine, I guess. I mean, we were kind of trying. Pretty stupid of me to not add 2 and 2 together earlier…” you bit your bottom lip.

Fred nodded and put his arm around your shoulder, then glanced at the watch on his hand and took a deep breath.

“Positive,” you said to Fred, who didn’t know the meaning of the two lines. “All three,” you added, placing the last stick back down.

Your eyes started watering and with a smile, you looked up at Fred, who was judging your reaction. You threw yourself at him, hugging him tightly. “I’m pregnant!”

“I’m gonna be an uncle!!” he exclaimed with a chuckle, lifting you up in a hug.

“Hang out with me tonight?” you asked after he placed you down. You had a feeling nothing would occupy you tonight, nothing else would keep your mind off of the fact that you were pregnant and were not able to tell your husband yet.

“You know you’re my favourite brother-in-law, right?” you smiled at him charmingly and chuckled, the remnants of your happy tears still making your eyes shine.

“I’ll believe you when you say that again, in front of Bill.”

“So, what now?” Fred questioned, well into the evening, as the two of you were lounging in the living room. “Will you move out?”

“You’ve been waiting for that, weren’t you?” you laughed.

“As long as you keep sending me your baked goodies,” he quipped back.

“I mean, I guess. We’ll probably stay here a bit longer, we still have like eight months to go?” you said, placing a hand on your lower abdomen. “We’ll start looking for a house, the flat isn’t big enough to raise a baby,” you started counting. “You’d want us out of here after a few nights of the baby crying anyway and we were bound to move out someday.” You let your head fall back onto the rest, absentmindedly running your hand over your belly. “… find our own, family home,” you added.

“Mhm…” he hummed, sipping his tea.

“I’ll miss you, Fred,” you blurted out and felt tears coming up to your eyes.

No matter how many times Fred peeved you, he was a great friend, an amazing flatmate you’d never be bored with, and the best brother in law. And it was true, you’d miss sharing your daily life with him, bumping into him in the kitchen at 3 am on your way to grab some water.

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. His nature told him to tease you, but he knew you were being genuine. And he’d miss you too. He couldn’t have hoped for a better wife for his brother.

You were restless from the moment you woke up, on the day George was supposed to come back. Your day at work seemed incredibly long and when you got back home, every sound seemed like George apparating inside.

You sat down on the couch, trying to read a book, but ended up reading the same page over and over again. You still didn’t know what you had read and your knee kept bouncing up and down.

Finally, ‘POP!’, you heard that sound and shut your book without marking the page and threw it onto the coffee table.

“Y/N, I’m home, darling,” George called out, placing his bags down in the hall. You met him at the entrance to the living room and jumped into his arms with excitement.

You breathed in his familiar smell and tightened your arms around his shoulders, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

“Good to have you back,” you mumbled into the fabric of his sweater and pulled back a bit to look at him.

“Good to be back,” he replied with a chuckle, looking at you adoringly before placing a sweet kiss onto your lips.

“Let’s sit down,” you told him after pulling away, dragging him to the couch by the hand before he could continue to pepper your face with kisses.

The moment you sat down, George was suspicious of you. You weren’t acting that weird but something was off.

You, on the other hand, suddenly felt nervous. For 48 hours you couldn’t wait to tell him, but now you didn’t know how.

“What’s up, love?” he asked you, shifting closer and squeezing your hand in his and placing his other on your thigh comfortingly.

“I have something to tell you,” you looked up at him, his eyes expectant. And you felt so lucky.

You looked into the eyes of the man you loved. The man who loved you. It felt like looking into his eyes when you were standing at the wedding arch, about to become united for eternity to come. You were reminded of all the love you shared, all the moments from your past that led you to where you were and it felt so right.

Just as you started to feel the lump in your throat again and your eyes getting wet, you were pulled out of your thoughts by the confusion and slight concern growing on George’s face.

“I’m pregnant,” you said before he could ask what was going on.

His grasp on your hand and thigh loosened momentarily as initial shock washed over him, you could almost see the information being processed in his eyes. And when it did, a huge smile broke on his face, but you didn’t get to see it for long before he pulled you into a tight hug.

“We’re having a baby,” he mumbled into your shoulder after a moment, then pulled away just enough to be able to bring your lips together. The kiss was passionate and full of emotion, there wasn’t much tenderness to it. You stopped when both of you were grinning too much to call it a kiss.

George pulled you down to lie on the couch with him, with a content sigh. You giggled, snuggling closer to him.

“You’re pregnant,” he said again, familiarizing himself with it. “I’m gonna be a dad,” he added, looking at you.

“You are,” you confirmed with a dopey smile.

“We’re gonna have a baby, that is so…” he looked up at the ceiling, starting his contemplations.

“You and I are going to have a child, that is crazy to think about. D’you know what I mean? Obviously, I’ve always wanted children with you and I knew how- parenting- worked, but- before it was a reality I didn’t think about it this way. I’m going to be the father of your baby. You’re going to have my baby. This baby is going to be equally mine as it’s going to be yours- and-“ he paused to take a deep breath, “-when you think about how it happened…”

You both chuckled at his existential thoughts and what they ultimately came down to. Though, you couldn’t help but agree with his rambles.

“So how..?” George started a question, bringing one of his hands to your lower abdomen.

“Oh, you know how I was acting weird lately. Fred then made some stupid comment and it just clicked in my head, I did a few muggle pregnancy test to make sure.”

You were quiet for a bit, enjoying each other’s embrace as George continued stroking your belly delicately.

“Y/N… do you-… do you think I’ll do alright?” he asked quietly. “As a dad..? I mean, I’m hardly responsible for myself…”

You looked up at him then brought your hand to stroke his cheek reassuringly and make him look at you, hoping to convey your message in the look of your eyes.

“You’re going to be a wonderful dad, the best one. And you are responsible, you test the boundaries often but with things that really matter – you’re one of the most responsible people I know, love. I would trust you with my life, with everything. And I couldn’t imagine a better dad for my children.” You kissed his cheek and he brought your body even closer to him, tearing up a bit himself.

“Can’t wait,” you added in a whisper into the skin of his neck.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #tw pregnancy #tw food

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thekrawratalksbnha · 4 years

Text

let’s talk unreliability real quick: bnha 291

so in light of recent bnha events, i wanted to write up a real quick thing on unreliable narrators based on some things i’ve seen going around and some stuff from my own experience based on my work with unreliability.

just because someone says something in canon story, doesn’t actual mean that’s exactly how things are. there’s some important factors that play into how much you can trust information from a character.

some of the main ones being:

how old were they?

what circumstances were they in?

could they be reliably asked to remember this event?

how much information were they privy too and how much are they assuming?

do they have a reason to lie?

let’s look at shouto for example:

shouto is the youngest of four. he is probably about 9 or so years younger than his eldest sibling. that means there was a lot of time before him for family relationships to strengthen or in this case deteriorate.

additionally shouto went through some pretty severe trauma when he was very young. reliably we know he was trained to the point of throwing up at five years old, witnessed his mother’s mental state deteriorate and be abused by his father, walked in on his mother having a severe mental breakdown overhearing her talking about his left side being unsightly and proceeding to pour boiling water on it, and was kept separated from his siblings with little social contact.

FURTHER, we’ve only ever seen shouto actively place blame on two people. himself and his father. even though it is for very valid reason, we know that at least to start he was more than willing to assume the worst of endeavour.

we also have canonical proof that shouto had suppressed/forgotten important memories of his childhood. so we know his memory might not be the most reliable.

what does all this mean?

shouto is in no way the most reliable narrator to discuss about the todoroki family. while he doesn’t really have any reason to lie about what happened, he was in a position to misinterpret or remember things.

this doesn’t mean he’s wrong. it just means there’s too many blank spots in shouto’s memory and understanding and too much bias for him to be an actively reliable perspective into his family’s situation as a whole.

he can probably pretty accurately speak about his experience, but anything he’s said about his family before he was born can pretty reasonable be called into question.

and you can run down the list of todoroki’s and see that well…none of them are necessarily reliable.

natsuo:

second youngest, most of his memories are from a time that we know was definitively bad

closest with some of the family members who suffered the most

neglected by endeavour, shaping his opinion of endeavour but also not leaving him privy to much info

fuyumi:

her biggest issue is the information she is privy to.

has expressed a very clear desire to mend the family, and does have reason to downplay certain events or moments

she was still a kid when things happened and most of her memories are probably largely tainted by emotion

in general i’d say fuyumi is probably the one of the most reliable of the todoroki’s though.

rei:

suffered severe mental distress

we don’t know much about rei and her experience before shouto which makes it hard to judge how reliable of a narrator she is

enji:

went through at least some period of time where he was a shit father

did have strong emotions and ambition that could have blinded him — but since his atonement arc has started, has very little reason to deviate from the truth

in general though, hate me for saying it, at this point in the story he is probably the most reliable narrator in the todoroki family.

and then of course there’s dabi, which brings us to the whole point of this post.

dabi is probably the most unreliable of all the todoroki’s as a speaker. not only was he a kid when shit went down, he also is the only todoroki who has motive to lie or over-exaggerate events.

dabi’s play right now is to ruin endeavour. and yes, most of what he says probably has some truth involved. but keep in mind dabi is a very biased perspective and is gunning for maximum damage. he wants to destroy endeavour’s legacy (and probably shouto’s by extension). he wants to hit them where it hurts.

which means that any new information dabi gives isn’t automatically what happened. we already know in his grand reveal video he’s willing to bend the truth, remove context and leave out important details (exhibit a — hawks). we should expect that he is doing the same in regards to his story about endeavour. he’s trying to cast endeavour in the worst light possible so he is not revealing anything potentially redeeming about the man.

compare dabi’s story to the flashbacks endeavour has. they are full of contradictions.

so which one do we trust?

if endeavour says one thing and dabi says another — quite frankly, it’s probably more likely that endeavour is telling the truth. even if its not an intentional lie on dabi’s part. dabi’s experience was when he was younger, very emotional charged and in a very negative place. that has probably coloured his perspective of everything.

and as mentioned before, he has very clear reason to not tell the whole truth if it might be able to help endeavour’s case.

on the other hand, especially internally, endeavour has no reason to lie or hide the truth. his whole atonement is about him acknowledging that what he did was wrong. and he has — internally at least. he has acknowledged his faults. and really there’s no motive for him to lie to himself. he was old enough to understand and process his actions. and it wasn’t quite as emotional for him as the kids (who were developing at that time and emotion often would take precedent over fact).

so just keep that in mind as official translations come out and future chapters and more information gets exposed.

dabi wants to paint endeavour in the worst possible light. some of what we know about the todoroki’s come from shouto, who could very well be a very unreliable narrator in that regard. all of what we know about the todoroki’s could be very biased and influenced by their collective awful experiences.

(the follow up to this is that when somebody has an interpretation you don’t entirely agree with — they might not be wrong. there is a lot we don’t know. and a lot that we assume to be true but could very easily be proven false. both dabi and endeavour have done wrong and the story we get might not be 100% accurate. so whether you are pro or anti endeavour — keep unreliability in mind. you can’t necessarily take every character at their word)

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feelingofcontent · 3 years

Text

I briefly posted my thoughts on the design of the YWGTTN and a couple high-level thoughts on the book itself, but I thought I’d share a few more specific thoughts, first on the mental health content of the book.

I was pretty unfamiliar with the majority of the concepts discussed prior to reading YWGTTN. So for me, this was a great introduction. I could see how it might be pretty surface-level for someone who was already familiar with the concepts though.

I also loved the practical exercises and easy ways to apply things to your own life. I honestly can’t stand reading really theoretical self-help (or anything too theory-heavy). So I loved the focus on the practical! There are a few things discussed that I do really struggle with, so it has been nice to try to apply the practical advice to those parts of my life and see if it works for me.

Also more personally, I have someone close to me that has been struggling significantly with their mental health recently and started attending therapy. YWGTTN helped give me a better foundation for supporting them and a “shared language” to use when talking with them about mental health.

These are some of the concepts and exercises that stood out to me the most. This is probably more for me than anyone, but I’d love to hear if anyone else resonated with some of these same things, or what your thoughts were on YWGTTN in general! (Spoilers below the break.)

“It is possible to cruise through life suffering, if we don’t understand that it isn’t necessary to feel that way.” (p. 31) – Oof. This early quote hit me hard, as a reminder that you don’t always know what people are suffering with because they seem to be moving through life just fine. And as a reminder that their are some things in my own life that I just ‘put up with’ even though they make me feel bad...and that shouldn’t be the case.

Blame evolution (p. 40) – I really appreciated the discussion of how a lot of the responses we have and our brains’ evolution was to keep us safe, but now we’re not under the same threats. I liked the framing of ‘you don’t control your thoughts’ with the scientific backing.

“The best thing is to simply accept that our weird minds are just like this...” (p. 48) – I don’t know why reframing the idea of intrusive thoughts like this worked for me, but it really really did. It’s like an excuse, but true?

Key thoughts to lock in your mind during a crisis (p. 57) – I’m printing this page out and sticking it on my desk.

Exercise: Abdominal Breathing (p. 65) – I’ve been using this literally every night when I’m laying in bed and trying to fall asleep. It’s been helping a lot with that.

The anxiety equation (p. 81) – I had never seen this before and I actually love math so this one spoke to me. It’s been a good way for me to more realistically think about how bad (or not) something actually is.

“Procrastination is about fear. Fear that the task ahead of you will be difficult, that it will be overwhelming, that you might fail.” (p. 100) – It’s me. I’m definitely somewhat of a procrastinating perfectionist like Dan is. This whole section about how to address that with the simple “five minute rule” for getting started on something is pretty much how this post got written, lol.

“when we feel low we remember and emphasise the other times we feel low, and when we fell good we tend to connect positive memories...” (p. 113) – Why is this not a thing I’ve realized before? It’s a helpful perspective to have when considering how I’m feeling in a moment.

Clock-blocking (p. 146) – I felt called out again; I look at the clock way too much when I can’t sleep. I’ve been trying not to do that and doing the breathing exercise instead.

“...but you can notice the emotional benefits of just a bit of movement straight away.” (p. 172) – Hello, me trying to stand up more while working and take a walk every day (and to stop thinking about losing those 10 pounds).

“It’s not that we view other people simply as tools to give us what we want, but actually it kind of is exactly like that” (p. 181) – This is certainly an interesting way of framing social relationships. I like what he discusses about how different relationships can serve different purposes in your life and that not everyone has to be everything.

“I constantly feel like I’m inconveniencing people, even if I’m not asking something of them.” (p. 185) – I’m so bad at keeping in touch with people and I think this is why. I never want to make a decision that affects someone else or “bother” them. Gotta take that first step though.

“If you’ve withdrawn from friends and lost touch with people, it doesn’t mean you can’t reach out and reconnect with them.” (p. 188) – Yep, needed that due to the above.

“If you really want to help others the most, you need to be the best, most functional and productive version of you...” (p. 215) – I’m guilty of sometimes not taking good enough care of myself in order to help the people around me, for sure. Need this as a reminder to make time for me or I’ll end up being useless anyway.

“It should be all of our missions, in more ways than just mental health...to surpass our default programming, learn, grow, and become and honest and happy version of us, for ourselves and others.” (p. 234) – For me, this is a “you are not your upbringing” reminder, and a reminder that you can always learn and be better. Or to use an old YouTube reference from Vlogbrothers - DFTBA.

“A power we should all try to cultivate is the ability to sit with negative emotions. Not to run away from them, or suppress them, but to accept they are there and try to work with them, by looking for the thoughts behind the feelings.” (p. 273) – This is a long one, but stood out to me because I’m sometimes too good at just ignoring (or trying to ignore) bad feelings. It always comes back to bite me later, so the point about looking at the thoughts, which can actually be addressed in some way, was helpful for me.

“Protect your boundaries and don’t take on more than you can handle. Don’t agree to too much work, emotional responsibility, or cave in to demands you know you might not have energy for.” (p. 290) – I need this reminder almost daily. And even more than that, to remember to keep asserting myself even if people push back against the boundaries I’ve set.

“Life isn’t about judging ourselves for what we value and trying to fit in, it’s about learning what we truly want to do and be, and striving for it in order to feel fulfilled.” (p. 305) – This is what really resonated with me towards the end of the book, and kind of what everything else can build into. Though I’m still trying to figure out what really matters to me and then how to work towards that.

#ywgttn #ywgttn spoilers #dnp #dan and phil #KD thoughts

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def-initely-soul · 4 years

Note

Hey bootiful, can I get the hooking up with a stranger and then looking for the person with that costume + that person being the cop that (on another year) interrupts the party and OC makes inappropriate comments thinking it's a costume with sexy yuta? 😘

one sexy yuta coming right up! ;)

pairing: yuta from NCT x reader (f.)

prompts: strangers who hooked up at a party while in costume but tbh i might be in love with you so i’m gonna walk this earth looking for the right woodland nymph & you’re a cop here to break up the party but i thought it was a costume and may have made some inappropriate suggestions regarding your handcuffs

genre: humour; slice of life

warnings: mature language; suggestive themes; sexual content; drunking; weapon mention

words: 1.4k

“Y/N? Y/N?”

…

“Y/N!!”

You jump in your spot, finally hearing your best friend yelling into your ear from next to you. “Huh, what, what?!” you yell as well, taken aback as the Annabelle next to you narrows her eyes at you. And that would’ve been completely creepy if you didn’t know your friend was behind the costume.

“You’re still looking for him, aren’t you?” she remarks, crossing her arms on her chest and your eyes widen.

“AHahhahaHa, what?! Nooooo,” you rush to reply. Even though you both know you don’t sound at all convincing.

Your friend takes a breath, letting her arms fall down, eyes following the crowd. “If we both search, maybe we’ll find him faster.”

You give her an appreciative smile. Last year, on your friend’s, Doyoung, Halloween party you hooked up with a handsome stranger dressed as Legolas from The Lord of the Rings trilogy and it was possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. He somehow knew exactly what to do to make you putty in his hands and to be honest you’d connected in both a physical and emotional level. You’re pretty sure if you had another chance with him you could hit it off.

The only problem is you don’t know his name. Truth is you were a bit too preoccupied fucking to share each other’s names last time, a mistake you’ll make sure won’t repeat itself this year.

Hence why now at another one of Doyoung’s famous Halloween parties, you’re searching for the boy with the long blond hair.

“What does he look like?” your friend brings you back from your reverie and you quickly describe him to her, even though you’ve done so a thousand times before.

You spend more than half the party scanning over the crowd for the mysterious stranger, although you don’t spot him anywhere, and Doyoung is too preoccupied in his spot as the host (or just too fucking drunk) to give you any useful information.

The sensible thing for you to do would be forgetting about him and hook up with someone else; you had the choice if you wanted to. Your costume as a sexy nun had a lot of people walking your way and asking for your name.

But you weren’t feeling it. You were still stuck to the blond elf that knew how to push your buttons right.

You sigh in remembrance of that night, that helped you get through many lonely nights of your own.

The way he held you close, full of passion and intensity, the way his hips drove into you as he choked you, making you lose any sense of self in that time spent together, it all came back all the time, making you wish you’d at least learned his name before you’d left.

At that moment, the music stops suddenly, drunken people confusedly staring at each other at the sudden halt. Your friend looks over to the door to see Doyoung talking animatedly to someone dressed as a cop. You follow her line of vision only to stop in your track when you realise who it is.

It’s him! It’s the guy you’ve been looking for, the guy who rocked your world.

You nudge your friend in shock. “That’s him! Oh my god, he came! Fucking finally!” you exclaim before walking towards him, ignoring your friend who for some reason sounds too panicked.

As you approach Doyoung and the elf, now dressed a cop, you hear his deep voice addressing Doyoung.

“...I’m sorry buddy, I’m just checkin’...” he says, somehow remorseful as another guy dressed as a cop next to him scans the house as the music comes back on.

“Well, well, look who’s here…” you announce your appearance with a teasing smile on your lips, making sure to sway your hips just enough to entice him. And you’re indeed successful judging by the way his eyes widen and his mouth drops open.

Last time he saw you, you were dressed as an undead cheerleader, your legs were bare, free for him to marvel upon and enticing enough to draw him in. While this time, even though the dress is ankle-length and long-sleeved, there’s a slit on the fabric, just below your panties, revealing one leg and a bigass large keyhole neckline revealing the top of your breasts. You’re pretty sure he’s done for.

He, in turn, is dressed in a pretty standard cop outfit, dark blue uniform that fits him just right, tight around his chest and thighs and you feel your mouth salivating. There’s even a gun on his holster and a pair of handcuffs hanging from his belt.

Which gives you an idea.

“I, Uhm- H-hey!” he stumbles to reply, visibly affected by you and you internally gloat at the fact. The other guy next to him raises an eyebrow that for some reason doesn’t sit right with you. So you ignore him in favour of the fine piece of ass in front of you.

“I was wondering where you were, you know…” you whisper lowly as you smile seductively at him, dragging your finger down his chest.

The handsome stranger gulps under your ministrations, somehow too flustered to answer you and the guy next to him presses his lips together as if to conceal a laugh.

His presence next to the two of you makes you self-conscious but you decide to pay him no mind.

As your hand lowers down his body, your fingers meet cold metal and you glance down to see you’re touching his handcuffs. You smile.

“Came here prepared, did we?” you bite your lip as you stand at your tiptoes to get closer to him and whisper against his ear. The guy next to him finally looks somewhere else and your confidence returns tenfold when the handsome stranger lets out an affected breath.

“I’ll let you use them on me if you give me your name…” you propose and lean back to find him completely red, not at all as you remembered him from last time and when you’re about to ask what wrong, there’s a noise coming from his pocket.

“Officer Nakamoto, report your status, over.” comes the muffled sound from his pocket and he rushes to grasp the walkie talkie hiding in it.

“All clear here, sir, over,” he responds immediately at the walkie talkie and your eyes widen when the realization hits you.

He’s not wearing a costume.

“Shit…” you mumble quietly to yourself as the guy next to him who’s probably his partner is barely keeping it together. Or at least until their superior signs off and the walkie talkie goes silent.

Then the guy bursts into laughter, holding his belly as he literally shakes from his giggles and you stare elsewhere completely embarrassed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know, I’ll leave know…” you say in utter shame as you turn around to leave, cursing yourself for your carelessness when a hand wraps around your wrist.

“No, wait…” you turn to see the object of your affections pleading you with his eyes before he turns to his partner. “For fuck’s sake, Taeyong, just of wait in the car,” he reprimands him and the other guy walks away with his hands raised in defeat. Although you can still hear his chuckles as he walks out of the house

Then your handsome stranger turns once more towards you and realizing he’s still holding your wrist, he lets his hand fall.

“I’m sorry about him, he’s an idiot…” he chuckles quietly as if it’s something only for the two of you and you feel your heartbeat rising at the small bit of intimacy.

“And I’m sorry about all of… that,” you say making a motion with your hands to gesture at the whole of you as the cause of the previous awkwardness. But he simply smiles.

Then he takes a step closer and when your eyes meet his, you see once more that predatory glint in them that became familiar with last years.

“I’ll tell you my name if you give me your number…?” he asks expectantly, pushing his unlocked phone to your direction and you bite your lip to suppress a smile. Not very successfully though.

You take the phone from his hands and punch in your number while adding your name in the contact as well. You give it back with a lopsided smile and he’s quick to read over your name with a smirk.

You cross your arms on your chest. “Now for my reward?”

His smirk grows. He leans in, his cologne infiltrating your lungs, hypnotizing you as his breath fans over your ear.

“You can call me Yuta.”

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finelinesolo · 4 years

Text

Rules are Rules - a Ben Solo One Shot (AU)

Rating: EXPLICIT (smut)

Summary: You work at the busiest bar in the city, and one night Ben Solo comes in. Small talk, small talk — you two end up in the bathroom.

Notes: thank you for 600 on twitter!! xo’s - Lizzie

Maybe it was the freezing New York City air or maybe the lack of caffeine in your system was finally getting to you, but goosebumps danced across your arms frantically – sending a chilling shiver down your spine. There was nothing you hated more than working the closing shift, especially on Fridays. Being a bartender was fun at times and the money was pretty good, but having to be the one to kick the drunks out after last call and listen to them bitch and groan about their wives hating them or their lives falling apart was a chore no one wanted to do.

As hard as you begged, no one seemed to want to cover your shift. You were halfway tempted to just call in sick, electing not to out of fear of your boss raising hell to fire you.

A groan slipped from your lips when you heard the banging speakers and screaming people pour out of the door, their legs barely keeping them afloat as they stumbled down the street. Did you bring your Advil today? Better yet, would the Advil be enough to get you through this? You knew the answer was no, but ignorance is bliss – and that would be the only thing to save you now.

Popping the medicine into your mouth, you step through the door – already counting the seconds until you could clock off.

You knew wiping down counters repeatedly was only fun for so long, but anything was better than making strawberry martinis and cosmos for the bridal party that came in tonight. The minute they entered, you tossed the main bar to your co-worker, electing to take over bottle service and the occasional table wipe down. The tasks irritated you to no end, but every time one of the girls released a shriek pitched high enough to break glass, you hugged the rag in your hand a little tighter.

Before you could start on another table, you felt the seat next to you pull out - and man with a mop of black hair and an electric smile plopping down. His eyes lingered on yours - the hazel color swallowing you whole. He was cute, you hated to admit. It was easier for you to pretend that everyone who came into this place was a slob, however you had never wanted to be wrong more in your life.

“Bottle girl tonight, I see.” He said, raising a hand at the waitress to put an order in. His eyes drifted down to your legs, sitting there for a second before flashing back to meet your gaze. “Nice legs, by the way. You’re always behind the bar, I’ve never seen them before.” He cocked a lazy smile at your co-worker, lazily ordering a whiskey neat. She glanced up at you before scurrying off, swaying her hips in the process. To impress this guy, you guessed. A small giggle fell from your lips, causing his eyes to fall back on you. You tried to suppress your laughter, but it came anyways.

“Something funny?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest. The position drew attention to the muscles laced through his arms, your throat closing momentarily at the sight. “No, not at all. You enjoyed the show, I assume?” You ask, lifting your head to gesture at your co-worker. He rolled his eyes, leaning forward onto the table. “Every time I’m in here she does the same thing - maybe I should keep track, throw her a party when she hits 100.” Oh, so he had jokes. You rack your brain to remember who he was, drawing a blank after a few moments. “You’re a regular, I assume?” You ask, dropping your rag on his table to at least try to make it look like you are working so your boss didn't chew you out. He nodded; eyes steady on the bar to track his drink. “You don’t remember me? Ouch, that stings. I’ll remember that the next time I tip.” You knew he was kidding, his tone of voice said that much. He squinted his eyes at you, studying your expression. There wasn’t much to see, clearly - his gaze returning to the line of drinks forming on the counter.

“I’m Ben, Ben Solo. And you?” His voice was loud, the sound carrying through the booming music that busted your ear drums on the daily. “I’m Y/N - it’s nice to meet you, Ben.” It was a cute name, for a cute guy. You wondered if there was something deeper here - like maybe he was a serial killer and came here looking for girls to murder. You’d seen some creepy guys come through here, but he didn’t seem like one. Creepy guys don’t dress this well – his torso was framed tightly by a black dress top, his bottom half matched with plain jeans. Black boots sealed the look, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was hiding underneath all those buttons.

“So, Ben, what do you do?” You ask, throwing the rag over your shoulder so you could lean closer. He noticed, resting his chin on his palm to meet your distance. “I’m a pilot, but I live here. I have the next couple days off.” A pilot. This man was a rich, successful, pilot – so what was he doing in this part of town, getting drinks from the busiest dive bar in the city? “And what about you, bottle girl? Are you a full-time bartender or do you live a double life?” He smiled softly at you, the curve of his lips forcing you to return the grin. “I’m that predictable, huh? Yeah, Speech Pathology student by day, slave to the drink by night.” He raised his eyebrow, the emotion behind it was unreadable. “Speech Pathology, huh? So, you’re an expert with mouth movement, huh?” His tone shifted towards the end, the weight of it growing stronger - like it was sitting on your chest. Yes, your major included those techniques - something your friends loved to tease you about. No one you’d slept with really cared, yet here was this man already using it to his favor. “Somewhat, yes. Why? Are you looking for a lesson?” A bold statement, you knew. Normally you’d never engage a customer, but in your eyes – this man didn’t count. His face shifted to glance back at the bar, his drink still not there. You hoped they forgot to make it - that maybe you’d be able to steal him before he got it. Before you could ask again, you felt his hand land on your thigh - his fingers drawing soft circles as they traveled up towards your hip. “How much time do you have?” He asked, the heat radiating from him warming your skin.

“As much as you're willing to give me.” The distance between you two grew smaller and smaller until you were practically sitting in his lap, your leg draped softly over his bottom half. Your face loomed over his, standing up having given you the high ground. The bar grew more crowded, the hoard of dancers covering you two from the judging glances of your co-workers – something you’d remember to thank God for later. He raised his jaw, gesturing towards the one family bathroom the building had. There wasn’t a line for it, something that rarely happens. Nodding in agreement, he snatches your hand to drag you forward. His legs carried him faster than you could keep up with, and it wasn’t until now that you realized how tall he was. No wonder he could make a b-line so quick, the man was easily 6’3.

Once inside the room, Ben wrapped his arms around your waist – turning you to press your back against the door as it shut. His lips softly brushed against yours’s, the hum of your chests reverberating against each other. He had big hands, another thing you didn’t notice until now. One sprawled against your hip, the other grasped the back of your neck tightly. The air was thick with the smell of spilt liquor and sweat from the dance floor - a trait you normally detested, but with Ben this close, you could faintly smell his cologne - a mix of sandalwood and mint fluttered in your nose. You wanted nothing more than for him to kiss you, but he wasn’t playing that game this evening. He wasn’t vanilla, clearly – your heart pounded at the thought of what he was capable of.

“Sweetheart,” his voice was sweet like candy, but was still coated with that same dark tone you enjoyed so much before. His breath was hot on your skin, the bottom of his lip tucked between his top teeth for just a second as he contemplated his next sentence. “How much are you willing to do?” The question was dumb, but you appreciated it, nonetheless. “In what way, Ben?” You asked, your lashes fluttering softly to not squirm away from his touch. It was driving you crazy, and he knew it too – his hands digging a little deeper into your skin. “I want all of you, every inch. But are you going to be good and let me take my time with you or can you not handle it?” His words dripped with intensity, and you fought the urge to audibly gasp. You were on the clock, but the idea of going back to work right now sounded like an unusual form of torture. You nod, slowly – watching that same grin you saw earlier form on his mouth. He loved this, clearly. And you did too, shockingly enough. Normally you’d never hook up with someone in a bathroom, but it was just your luck that it had been deep cleaned before rush tonight.

“Any rules?” You asked, your arms wrapping around his neck. The gesture was so normal to you, yet he managed to reject it so fast – his hands grabbing yours to pin them above your head.

“Yes, a few.”

Whether it was shock or excitement that was heating your face, you didn’t care. The force behind his actions was electrifying, every move he made left you wondering what would come next. His eyes caught yours, silently asking to continue. You nod, maintaining eye contact as you twitched beneath him.

“You don’t do anything without asking. You even try to cum before I let you and I’ll pull away.” His voice got quiet as he nudged your head to get at your neck, placing soft kisses along your jaw. The pace was agonizing, his tongue dragging a small line across your skin. You groaned under your breath, the feeling causing your knees to wobble.

“You’re not allowed to touch me.” The rule was mind-boggling, and you weren’t sure how you’d be able to follow it. He was built like a marble statue, and the idea of not being able to drag your fingers across his figure seemed impossible.

“And what if I break it?” You ask, your voice faltering as he sucked on the skin below your earlobe. The soft laugh that escaped his lips sounded borderline threatening, his grip on your wrists only tightening. “Do you want me to leave you here to finish yourself?” No. No you did not.

“Rules are rules, sweetheart.” His voice carried through your ears like a melody.

Nodding, you mentally sign off on his rules. It’s not like what he was asking for was totally insane, you had seen much worse watching the people who came into this bar. His grip on your wrists changed, transferring both into one hand while he brought the other to grasp your hip. Your mouth released a soft moan at his touch, everything he did elicited a reaction from deep within you. It wasn’t long before you felt his lips on yours, the soft pillow-like texture clouding your thoughts. His kiss was unlike anything you’d felt before – like they were custom fit for yours’s, or that they had molded so quickly to fit your every movement. He turned his head to the side to angle deeper, swiping his tongue softly against your bottom lip to earn entry – and who were you to deny him that?

You wanted nothing more than to grab a fistful of his hair and pull it for strength, but that was clearly not an option now. He had open reign of your body, his free hand roaming up under your shirt to unclasp your bra.

With one hand? A talent.

Before you could realize it, your top half was exposed – he analyzed your every inch as if he was afraid, he’d miss a part. No one had ever taken in all of you like this, the nerves of being open to him causing you to shiver. He felt it, you assumed – releasing your wrists.

“Don’t move them - are we clear?” You nod, keeping your arms pressed against the door. His big hands slid up your side while he kissed down your collarbone and over the top of your chest. Hot air pounded against your forehead from the lack of AC that ever pumped into this room. You’d never had a fond memory here, but you were sure this would quickly top the list.

His lips clasped around your nipple fervently, as if he were in a rush – and maybe he was, you were at work and the risk of someone drunkenly stumbling through the door to puke was high. Your mind was racing, not able to place thoughts to actions as he dragged his tongue along your skin. The lights flickered softly, growing dimmer every passing second. It was like the further he got along your body, the darker it got. Ben didn’t seem to notice, focused on the task at hand. He stepped back momentarily, unbuttoning his shirt as fast as he could.

“You just want me to stand here like this, huh?” You asked, your wrists resting against the cold metal of the door. A kink was a kink, you guessed – but this was the first you’d met someone who didn’t want you to touch them. You’d read about it time to time, and seen it in that 50 shades movie - but this was a real person with real rules, and you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you broke them.

A dash of courage races through your head, your hands working for you. Ben was so lost in unbuttoning his shirt, he didn’t notice you lurch forward to place your hands on his chest. His eyes flew open, shock splashed across his face. He didn’t stop you, his eyes intently staring at your every movement. As predicted, his body was stunning. The build of his torso was like something out of a dream, soft skin draped over toned muscle. His breath was shallow as your hand fell lower – a reaction that only encouraged you to go further. Oddly enough, he still wasn’t stopping you - he let you continue your exploration, watching your fingers fumble with the button of his pants. It popped open quietly, causing the hemline to drop slightly past his hip, exposing more skin. You raise your eyes to meet his gaze, hoping he’d let you continue.

The rules. You were doing a shit job at following them, and he was either playing a trick on you to see if you’d get back in line, or he didn’t care – and Ben didn’t seem like the kind of guy to forgive so easily.

Steadily, you raise your hands in defeat – stepping back against the door as he asked to stay before. Pride washed across his face, his frame towering over you as he pressed up against you again.

“Good girl.”

He returned his mouth to yours, an exhale of relief leaving lips in the process. Your stomach did 180 flips every time he touched you, and you couldn’t help but want to run your fingers through his hair and pull. This was the point, clearly – he knew that you not being able to touch him would drive you crazy, and he was right.

Ben slapped your legs softly, gesturing for you to jump into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you had assumed that meant the no touch rule was over – clearly not, because before you could finally touch his hair, he used one hand to catch them as he strode across the room to place you on the sink. You groan in frustration – desperate to feel his hot skin against your palm. He laughed softly under his breath, hiking your skirt up to let it pool at your hips. Ben stood in between your legs, his size keeping them spread far apart. The cold porcelain pressed into your thighs, goosebumps appearing in its place. The warmth from the man in front of you was enough to suppress them, his arms returning to their place around your hips. He softly kissed down your face, stopping at your lips.

“Do you want my mouth?”

Blunt, yes. You’ve noticed that he was straight to the point, a trait you’d normally detest. But it was hot on him. Everything was.

“Yes, yes please.”

Ben smirked, getting down on his knees to place a hand on your stomach – pressing you against the mirror. The glass chilled you to your spine, a small gasp escaping your lips from the contact. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, placing soft kisses along your inner thigh to tease you.

“Ben, please.” You begged, swallowing your pride out of desperation to feel him. Nerves wracked your chest and you weren’t sure why. You’d hooked up with people before, even in public once or twice - but this was the first time you’d felt immobile in front of a man, as if your body only acted because he told it too. He noticed your trance, hooking a finger on your underwear to move it to the side. He let out a puff of cold air, the contact causing your legs to fly up. He didn’t care, leaning back a bit to prop your knees on his shoulders for a better angle.

It was a quick second before you felt his mouth on you, the pressure that was building up in your stomach immediately releasing at the feeling. Your hands found purchase on the side of the sink, the sudden thought of his rules reminding you to not grab at his hair. He licked in zig-zag formation, his tongue pressing in harder after landing on your clit. The air was sucked from your lungs, a moan forcing its way out. Ben wrapped his arms around your hips in return, holding you in place. His head rotated in small circles, mouthing at your center at a quicker pace. Every couple seconds he’d groan against you, the sound vibrating your clit in ways that made your head spin.

“You like that, huh?” He asked, pulling away shortly to press your buttons. All you could do was nod - his tongue pushing through your folds again taking away your ability to speak. He seemed to want words, his frame teetering backwards to blow cold air on your entrance. The feeling was electric, and you never wanted it to end. Shrieking, your knuckles went white from gripping the sink.

“Yes, god yes. Please don’t stop.” The words came out as more of a stutter.

“Please what? Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

He knew. He wasn’t dumb. Why did he need vocals?

“Please, I need you to make me cum. Ben-” Your breath was hot as is exhaled, the words stumbling out in an incoherent mess. “I want your fingers, and your mouth – please.”

He raised an eyebrow, pleased with his effect on you. “Fingers too, huh? Greedy little thing.” Not that he cared, of course. Ben didn’t waste a second, raising his middle finger to your entrance and pushing in. The feeling was euphoric, his pace quickening to match the rise and fall of your chest. He murmured against your center, sucking your clit while his fingers curled deep inside of you. It was almost too much, and you knew you’d only last so long.

“Oh, god yes - daddy.”

Your eyes flew open, one of your hands coming up to slam over your mouth. Why? Why now?

“What did you just call me?” He asked, his grip on your hip tightening slightly.

“Nothing. I called you nothing.” You felt like an idiot, and you were an idiot. You’d always wanted to try calling someone that, but no one ever made you feel like they’d be okay with it. That, or they were boring to the point that you couldn’t get yourself to say it. And here you were, naked on top of a sink – waiting for the one man you found that deserved the title, to decide if it was okay.

“Say it. What did you call me?” He said again, this time darker in tone.

“Daddy.” It came out weak, sheepish even. You swallowed your spit hoping it would make your speech clear up.

He smirked, the expression causing a wave of relief to wash over you. Returning to his place in between your legs, his lips kissed down your pussy – lapping softly at the skin just above your entrance. Fingers and all, this man knew what he was doing. Hunger for him raged on in your chest, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d last like this.

“Oh, sweetheart – you taste so good. You like it when daddy does this, huh?” He said, his words pulsating against you. “Yes, yes.” You sigh, your legs starting to shake. The closer you got to finishing, the harder it was to focus. Your vision was blurring with every passing second.

“Ben -” you start, the pressure building in your stomach becoming unbearable. “Can I please cum? Please?” It came out as a plea, like your life depended on it. He looked up at you from his spot, the eye contact threatening to send you over the edge.

“Hm, not yet. Count to 10 and I’ll let you.” He says, staying close to you. You nod – confused with how 10 seconds would affect anything.

“1…”

He swirled his tongue around your clit, pushing his fingers in completely.

“2 … 3 …. 4 …”

Ben moaned against you, shaking his head from left to right to create friction.

“5 … 6 … 7 ... “

“I don’t know if I can do this Ben-” You gasp, sweat dripping from your brow as you try to hold your orgasm in. He dug his nails into your skin, signaling to continue.

“8… 9 … 10 …”

He sucked harshly, releasing your clit but continuing to push in and out of you at full force. “Cum, sweetheart. Cum for daddy.”

You felt your body wrack with shakes as you released, the power behind it causing your back to fly off the mirror – sitting straight up once again. You wanted to catch your breath, but Ben had better ideas. He stood to his feet, pulling you against his chest.

“I’m on the pill -” you whisper, his head resting on your shoulder. He nodded, leaning down to shuffle out of his pants. Pulling his boxers down, his cock was released from its hold. Your eyes flew open wide – the size of it taking away your ability to speak. This could hurt, and you almost wanted it to hurt.

He hooked one of his arms under your leg, lifting it slightly. You impulsively reached forward, grabbing his shoulders for support. This was breaking the rules, you knew that. Ben’s eyes traced your frame, nodding in approval at your position.

“You’ve been good, sweetheart – you can keep your hands there.”

You couldn’t help but feel relief, tightening your grip around his neck – your fingers finally trailing into his hair. It was just as soft as you hoped, the locks tangling around your grip. Ben groaned at the close contact, letting out a harsh breath before thrusting himself all the way inside you, filling you up. Your grip faltered, his arms catching you before you fell back against the mirror again. Pulling him closer after, your neck gave out – finding a resting spot on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, adjusting to the feeling of you around him.

“You’re so tight - damn, sweetheart.” You were, but mainly because of him - the man was stretching you as far as you could take. “You like how I fill you up, huh? Tell me how much you like it.”

Words were not coming out, an example of his effect on you. All you could manage were a few murmured words, flying out of your mouth in a haste.

“Yes - Yes, I love it, ugh.” That’s as good as it was going to get for you, his mouth curving into a smirk watching you come undone at his will. The sound of desperation in your voice only encouraged him further, picking up his pace. He holds you against him as he plunges his cock as deep as it would go, grunting and moaning obscenities along the way. Every move he made went straight to your core, the impact relentless. You wanted to scream or bang your arms against the wall – everything he did felt so damn good, and you didn’t know how else to express it. Your eyes begin to water, one hand coming in between you to rub vicious circles on your clit while the other finds purchase gently wrapped around your throat. You were fairly sure he was out to kill you, and the idea of going back to work after this was near impossible. He groans, elbowing your left leg, silently asking you to lift it just as he had it before. You oblige, the angle only sending him deeper. You make a mental note to thank your DJ for blasting the music so loud it was virtually impossible to hear anything, imagining a way to explain this to your coworkers if they caught you. His brain was on a different wavelength clearly, pounding into you relentlessly and enjoying every second.

“Don’t forget to tell me when you’re close.” He grunts, his fingers still rotating your clit deliciously. And you were, but you didn’t want this to end. How much longer could you drag this out for?

Your orgasm had other things in mind, creeping up on you quickly. You shriek, slapping his shoulder and shaking your head. “Ben, I’m so close, please-” He shook his head, slamming into you again but halting his movement, the length pressed against you causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“Cum now sweetheart, now.”

You scream into his shoulder, softly biting the skin to relieve the tension. His breath hitched quickly after yours, finishing inside of you while you continued shaking underneath his body. He slowly thrusts in and out of you to help you ride out your climax before slowing to a stop, his head leaning against yours. Your ragged breaths mixed with his, the air between you thin. The outline of the skin made your legs sore, a soft whimper of pain pushing past your lips. Ben assumed so, wrapping your legs around his hips tighter so he could lift you up, carrying you over to the small counter placed in the counter. The surface was less harsh, the surge of pain you felt before dissipating. He kissed your forehead, reaching to his left to grab some paper towels.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” Following his instructions, you feel him softly dab at your hairline - cleaning up the sweat forming. He did the same further down your body, wiping along your collarbone and your jaw. It was a sweet gesture compared to the way he was wrecking you earlier.

He finished, throwing the paper away and returning with your clothes. You dressed in silence, stealing a glance at him through the corner of your eye every couple seconds. Once everything was fastened, you stood on opposite sides of the bathroom, eyes glued to each other. His feet carried him in stride, his hands on either side of your face while he kissed you softly. You melted into his touch, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“What time do you get off tonight?” He asked, staring at your lips – waiting for an answer.

“I close, so around 2.” He flipped his wrist, glancing at his watch for time. It must have been around midnight at this point.

“I’ll wait for you, then you’re coming home with me.” He said with that same smirk crossing his face in the way you liked so much. That could be arranged, but you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

“Oh, really? And why is that?” You whisper against his jaw, placing soft kisses up until you reached just under his ear lobe, swirling your tongue there softly. He shuddered against you, pulling you away with his eyes squinted.

“Because I said so, and rules are rules.”

#ben solo #adam driver #ben solo smut #ben solo au #adam driver smut

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myleftarmis-whumped-isthatnormal · 4 years

Text

The Video

“Peter.” The automated voice breaks a fidgety silence like a sudden alarm. Blue computer light penetrates the otherwise pitch black room, making Peter squint. An alert pops up on the screen.

Peter’s fingers freeze over the keyboard. “FRIDAY?”

“Peter, I cannot allow you to override my security again," the AI states flatly. "The protocols have changed.”

“What?” A week ago, Peter wouldn’t have imagined he’d get to the point of arguing with Mr. Stark’s AI. But then, a lot of things have happened since then that he wouldn’t have imagined. “What do you mean, changed?”

“You can’t watch the video.”

Peter swallows. Other kids might have other reasons to hack into SI’s most advanced systems. For information, for a dare. Just his luck to be different. Just his luck to be the kid breaking in to watch some kidnappers’ torture videos.

Torture videos of Mr. Stark.

“So there is another one,” he says carefully, starting to type. “But you never stopped me before.”

FRIDAY blocks Peter’s code with another alert message. “I activated mandatory barriers—”

“You put Colonel Rhodes off my scent.” Peter’s fingers fly across the keyboard now. “Why isn’t today’s video exempted by the ‘Points for Effort’ protocol, FRI? What’s different about this one?”

Peter knows there’s something different about this one.

Three days after Mr. Stark disappeared, SI had begun to receive videos. Footage. Never a demand, never any information, never anything more than Tony Stark being tortured in several different ways for five to seven minutes, some intimidation play or whatever the hell this was. One video a day.

And no one but FRIDAY knows Peter has been watching them, too.

But today there’d been even less talk around the Compound. Today Peter caught a couple of furtive glances his way. Today Ms. Potts had asked to talk with him, and Peter thought she’d finally broach the subject, but she seemed to change her mind in the middle of the conversation.

Today was off.

“Damn it, FRI,” Peter hisses when another attempt is thwarted. “And don't give me the speech about protecting me, it's not gonna work.” He swallows down the building frustration. Hey, what’s another emotion to suppress in this hell of a week. It can play in his stomach with Mr. Worry and Ms. Guilt.

“I calculate viewing this footage will be detrimental to your mental state, Peter.”

“My mental state,” Peter laughs.

The folder Peter had been working on opens, against FRIDAY’s protocols, and Peter types even faster.

“The contents of this video are along the same vein as the others, but some information is revealed that... changes the situation.”

“Then I have to know,” he snaps. “You wouldn’t understand, you know everything.”

“Not everything,” FRIDAY replies, and Peter is struck by how human her voice sounds this time. How regretful.

“I get—” Code. Firewall. Override. “I get it’s gory, and useless, and—” Open folder. Block. “Fucking sadistic, FRI. I get why they don’t want me to see it.” Override. File loading. “But I have to. I have to.”

Peter can’t explain it, not to himself, and certainly not to an AI. But the videos draw him like nothing has before.

Sure, maybe it’s the guilt. Mr. Stark kidnapped in the middle of a mission they went on together, that familiar nagging grief of failing to protect someone he cares about. And maybe it’s the hope that the footage will reveal any kind of information as to who these bastards are, where they’re holding Mr. Stark, or what they even want from him.

But also, maybe Peter accepts that it’s just better this way. No matter how much it makes him puke afterward, after watching the first video and that brutal whipping, Peter decided that knowing the daily videos’ content is better than leaving anything to his imagination at this point.

“It’s different this time,” FRIDAY warns him.

“Yeah, I got that, FRIDAY.” Peter nearly crumples the mouse in his hand when a sudden thought hits him. “Oh my god,” he whispers, “he’s not — he’s—”

“No,” FRIDAY answers quickly. “No, Tony’s not dead.”

Peter’s gut unclenches, then clenches again. “Then I'm not stopping.”

He unlocks the video, finally, a split-second before FRIDAY closes it. But in that split-second Peter catches the thumbnail. A view from above. Mr. Stark restrained on a table, metal clamps on his fingers and toes and bare chest.

Peter wants to throw up.

It takes him a few seconds to notice FRIDAY has been quiet. And he realizes he must have been, too.

He inhales deeply, still feeling his increased heartbeat after the shock of the thumbnail image. “FRI?” he tries eventually.

“Peter. If you keep going...” Something in FRIDAY’s voice is different this time. More forceful. As if she’d changed her mind in the same seconds Peter had frozen in reaction to the thumbnail. Recalculated. Yielded. “You’ll have to promise something.”

“You’re losing,” Peter croaks, pulling the video up yet again, fingers typing on autodrive. “Doesn’t count.”

FRIDAY is silent again.

And then, as if to make a point, the security alerts drop all at once. Peter slumps back in his chair.

“Watch,” FRIDAY says, something hard behind her neutral voice. “But promise something.”

And FRIDAY plays the video.

The screaming starts as soon as the video does. Mr. Stark arches off the table, only the restraints on his wrists and ankles holding him back. Screaming and yelling and whimpering, alternating with the fall and rise of electric current.

Blood starts to drip from Mr. Stark’s nose and mouth, and they pause the electrocution. But it’s only to attach another electrode in the middle of the metal hole in his chest. Peter grips the sides of his chair.

“Come on, Stark.” The voice is disguised, deep, but Peter leans in closer all the same, eyes widening. They’d never questioned him on camera before.

Mr. Stark laughs — laughs. He turns his head to the side, where the speaker must be, off-camera.

“You’re wasting your time,” he croaks, sweat shining on his forehead.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

They dump a bucket of water on his chest. Mr. Stark yelps. Another, soaking his pants. Another on his head.

Peter notices how badly his mentor’s hands shake when they pour the water slowly, so slowly, over his face. He still can’t shake the image of that second or third video, the waterboarding.

Except the water is playing another role in torturing Mr. Stark this time.

“Alright, scream us a show.” There’s a humming as the electricity starts up again. Peter turns his head to the side.

Three more minutes of the same thing. Screaming that rattles in Peter’s ears. A snicker, a bark of instructions somewhere in the background. And when the men deign to give him a break, Mr. Stark hacks his lungs up coughing, and Peter’s own chest aches.

Finally they slow down. A hand reaches into the video’s frame, settling on top of their captive’s rib cage. Mr. Stark clenches his fists, hissing in pain, though no other sound comes out. Remembering the beating of yesterday’s video, and seeing the bruises on Mr. Stark’s torso where the other man laid his hand, Peter clenches his fists, too.

“Do you know now?”

“Fu — fuck…”

The hand presses down on Mr. Stark’s bruised ribs. His head jerks up in reaction, then crashes back on the table with a hard thud.

Blinking rapidly through wet eyes, Peter urges his senses to stay attuned.

“Have we jogged your memory? Stark!”

Mr. Stark winces, eyes scrunching in pain. “Can’t — can’t take what’s not there,” he manages to rasp.

“Oh, it’s there.”

The arm moves out of the frame. Peter can’t see what’s going on, but he sees Mr. Stark turn his head after the man. Whatever he sees, it makes him groan, shutting his eyes.

“What? What does he want?” Peter whispers at the screen. “Mr. Stark, what do these bastards want?”

“Peter.” Peter jumps. FRIDAY’s voice seems alien now, like the video had transported him to a whole other world. “If you want to skip ahead, the answer to that question is at 7:46.”

Peter stares blankly at the screen, where Mr. Stark still has his eyes screwed shut, inhaling deeply. Like he’s preparing himself for something.

“No,” Peter decides. “No, I’m riding this out.”

FRIDAY considers his reply quietly.

More arms in the video. Across Mr. Stark’s chest. Inserting more wires into the center.

“Oh god,” Peter groans. Of course. The arc reactor that saved the man’s life, now ripped out, leaving only a metal hole that’s all too accessible. Too easy. Too damn vulnerable. “FRI,” Peter says, because he can’t stand the silence anymore, the painful sound of Mr. Stark’s heavy breathing, the way the hands prod at his mentor’s chest like a piece of meat. He has to talk, has to say something. “FRIDAY, what made you change your mind about showing me this?”

FRIDAY is silent, until eventually the hands leave, and Mr. Stark grits his teeth again. “Because you stuck it out, Peter," the AI replies slowly. "You still do. Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t know everything. I’m always recalculating.” On-screen, the familiar hum of electricity starts up. “Maybe it will better for you to see this, after all. But promise something.”

It starts again.

Mr. Stark opens his mouth in a shout, but no sound comes out. As Peter anticipated, it looks like a whole other level of pain this time. Mr. Stark’s back arches off the table like before. But this time, he’s shaking head to foot.

It takes five seconds flat for Mr. Stark to start wailing. Peter bites his lip.

It’s never easy to see someone you look up to, crying.

“Fu—UCK! NO! I don’t know!”

Even harder to see someone who's always been strong for you, in this much agony.

“Please — FUCK! Please I don’t know I don’t — please — NO!”

And fucking harder to see someone you love, begging.

“Yes you do! You know you fucking do!” The same disguised deep voice, now shouting.

"I don't know!" Mr. Stark’s screams, his words, his sobs all mix together. “I don’t!”

“Say it, Stark!”

“Plea—aaauuUUGHH!” “Say it!”

“I don’t know who Spider-Man is!”

Peter's stomach drops.

The video screen falls away. His vision spins in slow-motion. Upside-down.

Mr. Stark’s shouts continue on the computer. His screams still ring out in the silence. But Peter doesn’t hear it anymore. He doesn’t hear anything.

Mr. Stark’s words just keep replaying and replaying in his mind. So this is what’s different. So this is what they want.

Peter thought nothing could be harder than watching Mr. Stark's torture?

He was wrong. Those six simple words took the prize.

“Peter.” FRIDAY’s voice filters through the fog. “Peter?”

He blinks. The surroundings, the room rushes back at him. The video had ended.

“FRIDAY… was that…”

“Yes,” she answers briefly, but not unkindly. “That was it.”

“God. Oh my god.”

Peter lets his head fall in his hands. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, crouching on the chair, in total silence in a dark room. Stinging pain in his chest. More than guilt. More than anger.

When he looks back up, FRIDAY has mercifully returned the computer to a blank screensaver.

“Why?” Peter asks. He isn’t sure what he means by that.

But FRIDAY seems to. She brings up some new files on the screen. A list. Peter squints, wiping his wet eyes. A list of names.

“This is the same list I provided to Colonel Rhodes and SHIELD," FRIDAY says quietly.

Peter scans through the names, suddenly realizing their significance. A serial killer he’d caught two months ago. The terrorist organization from his last Avengers mission. The powerful brother of a man who’d been killed fighting him.

Enemies of Spider-Man. Him. Peter Parker’s. Not Iron Man’s, not Tony Stark’s, not anything to do with the man getting torn a million ways to protect his secret. Amazing the torrent of emotions one simple revelation could bring.

Mr. Stark always worried his enemies would get to Peter because of him. But Peter never even considered the pain of being on the other side of that bargain.

“I suspect you'll be able to help SHIELD narrow this down,” FRIDAY tells Peter, as he continues scrolling through the list. "I've been helping you sneak around with the videos, Peter. I know now how much you care for Tony. And if you're this determined, we might as well take it all the way."

Peter still feels his heart hammering in his chest. Mr. Stark’s screams still ringing in his ears.

But there’s something else now, too. A feeling like he’s finally been let go. Like the adrenaline and the anxiety have made way for something else.

Like all the past videos have been piling on a huge bonfire. And this one finally lit the match.

“And the promise?” he asks, voice firm with newfound determination. But Peter thinks he already knows the answer.

In the short pause, Peter can almost imagine FRIDAY lifting her chin, leveling her eyes at him. Giving the same kind of look Mr. Stark would give him before a mission.

He has never before heard more emotion in the AI’s voice. “Give them hell, Peter.”

Also up on ao3! :D

#peter parker #tony stark #fanfic #whump #tony stark whump #electrocution #kidnapping #torture #irondad #mine

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habibialkaysani · 3 years

Text

Touch (Laurel/Nyssa; T) - earth-44

Ships: Laurel/Nyssa

Summary: Laurel and Nyssa. Dinah and Amina. Green Arrow and the Black Canary. Daredevil and the Black Sky. The Flash and Vibe.

Across the multiverse, they go by many names, surrounded by different people at different times in their lives. But there is one golden link between the Dinah Laurel Lances and Nyssa Raatkos across the infinite earths - that they always find each other. And every time, their story starts with a single touch.

A/N: As I recently watched The Old Guard, I was inspired by the dynamic between Joe and Nicky and immediately dreamed up (as I so often do) a Lauryssa AU for those characters. So here is a little bit of it - and then there will be an expansion of that story as a separate fic, to come sometime soon I hope as it’s half-finished.

Read at AO3

Earth-44

(In which Laurel and Nyssa are immortals who have been together for a thousand years fighting righteous battles side by side as part of an army, a la Nicolo di Genova and Yusuf al-Kaysani in The Old Guard.)

The chains cut coldly on Laurel's wrists, drawing blood, but she barely noticed as she continued to struggle against them. She had eyes only for Nyssa. Even after an eternity of witnessing the love of her life die and come back, Laurel could not bear to even contemplate a world without Nyssa in it.

There were questions, vague and half-formed in her mind, about why they were taken, where the others were, particularly their newest recruit, Sarah Diggle, for whom Laurel and Nyssa already felt responsible.

Laurel wanted to know who these soldiers around them were, where they were going - and, of course, the age-old question about whether they had finally been caught, and if they would be put in a cage as a lab experiment.

But at the forefront of Laurel's thoughts was what lay before her, and that was her beloved, her partner, and her soulmate. Nyssa was sprawled on her front, having been shot when attempting to escape her restraints, and even now as Laurel's eyes moved down further, she winced at the sight of Nyssa’s lifeless body.

This was always the worst part. While Laurel and Nyssa were hardly strangers to immortality and its secrets, no amount of dying could make Laurel used to the agonising seconds and minutes before Nyssa finally gasped back to life. And the hard truth was that despite Nyssa's words that she would always come back, they both knew this was impossible to predict. Their immortality would run out one day, and every time they got caught in the crosshairs of another enemy, Laurel wondered if today was it.

"Nyssa," she whispered, feeling a surge of anger not at the tears that stung in her eyes but that one of the soldiers - a square-jawed blond man - was eyeing her closely. "Nyssa, habibti - wake up."

But Nyssa was still motionless in the armoured van. The soldiers had shot her squarely in the back, but that had been minutes ago, surely. She should have awakened by now. Unless…

"Ya Nyssa!" Laurel cried, louder this time, and the blond soldier grabbed her by the shoulders roughly.

"Oi. Shut up!"

Laurel just ignored him, reaching out despite her restraints to touch Nyssa's cheek. "Nyssa, please. It's me, habibti. Wake up!"

"I just told you to shut the fuck up!" the soldier barked.

"Or what?" Laurel shot back. "You can kill me too if you want. I’ll just come back, and make no mistake - I'll be angrier." The guard spluttered at that, unable to form anything coherent in reply, and Laurel went back to shaking Nyssa in an effort to rouse her. "Come back to me, my love. Please." For good measure, Laurel blessed herself and said a silent prayer, and somehow, miraculously, someone upstairs seemed to have heard her, because Nyssa then started coughing.

Automatically Laurel looked up at the heavens above - obscured, of course, by the armoured ceiling of the van, which should have made it less poetic - and thanked every deity she could name in her head. There was blood in Nyssa's hair as Laurel stroked it tenderly, leaning forward so her forehead touched the crown of her beloved.

"Are you okay?" Laurel asked softly in Arabic.

"I think so," Nyssa replied, also in Arabic, before switching loudly to English. "Very pissed off, though."

"As am I," Laurel said, glowering at the blond soldier. She softened, though, in an instant when Nyssa squeezed Laurel’s hand. "I'm just glad I didn't lose you. They shot you."

"You will never lose me, hayati. And I'm fine." Nyssa groaned in pain as she lifted her shirt and the two bullets that had temporarily stymied Nyssa popped out and rolled onto the floor. Laurel could see the exit wound knitting, just under Nyssa's ribcage, and she winced. As she did so, though, she could sense the blond soldier's leer before she saw it.

"Aw, are you two together or something? Is she your girlfriend?"

Nyssa just rolled her eyes, letting out a faint sigh of fatigue and exasperation as another soldier then joined in. They knew what was going to come next - Laurel and Nyssa had been together for over a thousand years, but one thing that had worsened, rather than gotten better, was the way the world saw them.

"Feel free to make out in front of us. Always found that hot."

"To call you childish would be an insult - " Laurel snapped, "- to children, that is. You speak like prepubescent boys guided by nothing but the pathetic newfound stirring of your loins. You could not even begin to fathom with your simple mind the depths of love I have for this woman. You lack the maturity to understand how her very breath awakens my faith and her smile strengthens my soul, that even after centuries together I fall in love with her more every single day. She is not my girlfriend, little boy. She is my moral compass, my north star, my guiding light when I am lost."

"And your wife," Nyssa added helpfully and Laurel almost forgot her anger for a moment as she automatically smiled. Nyssa had a way of doing that, of tempering the storm of emotions raging in Laurel's head at the best of times.

“Yes,” Laurel said. “And she is my wife.”

Slowly, the soldier crouched down so his face was uncomfortably close to Laurel’s. “So you’ve joined the twenty-first century. Congratulations. Why the fuck should I care about that?”

Laurel did not even flinch. "Because if you so much as touch a hair on her head, you will find out just how much." For good measure, she headbutted the man, with such force that he was knocked onto his back, his head hitting the van floor with a satisfying thump.

"Ralph!" one of the other soldiers yelped, immediately going to his aid.

"He does look like a Ralph, doesn't he?" Laurel observed.

“Yeah. I think he does,” Nyssa said after a moment. “That was nice, though.”

Laurel smiled. “Yeah?”

"Indeed, my love. Romance and stamina?” Nyssa said teasingly, her chained hand going behind Laurel’s neck to pull her wife towards her. “You must save some for the rest of us, dearest." And despite their circumstances Laurel laughed.

"What do you think, Nyssa?" Laurel asked quietly. "Do you think this could be like Marrakech in '67?"

Nyssa smiled back. "You read my mind." She waited, then leaned in as if to kiss Laurel, but at the last second they both moved so quickly the soldiers didn't even have a chance to think, let alone raise their guns. With her chained hands Laurel got a hold of the two soldiers nearest her while kneeing a third between the legs. She knew from the crunching sound she heard that Nyssa had probably broken some bones, and as Laurel caught sight of Ralph feebly stirring a few feet away, she kicked his face for good measure.

Then and only then did Laurel pull Nyssa towards her for a kiss, and she sighed contentedly in her wife's mouth.

"Keys?" Laurel asked, and Nyssa shook her head. The two of them rifled through the soldiers' pockets just to be sure, but they came up with nothing. "Shit.”

“It seems we are out of luck. They must have locked us in from the inside. We must simply await our fate, habibti."

“I hate doing that,” Laurel muttered.

"I know you do, hayati, but we are out of options."

Laurel looked up, met her wife's eyes. "How are you always able to stay so enduringly patient?"

Nyssa smiled back. "Why, from centuries of practice, of course."

As if on cue, the van ground to a halt, and when the doors opened by yet more soldiers, Ralph’s unconscious body rolled out with a thump.

Laurel cleared her throat. “Any chance you motherfuckers can get these chains off us?”

"Perhaps don't lead with that, my heart," Nyssa said, but it wasn't with a lot of conviction and she was unsurprised when the soldiers ignored her words and dragged her to her feet. Next to her, they were doing the same with Laurel.

"Habibti, I love you, but you know playing nice isn't going to get us anywhere," Laurel said, annoyance laced into her tone from how the men were gripping her shoulders with far more force than necessary.

"True. We are usually better judges of character," Nyssa said, speaking now to the woman who had orchestrated this whole fiasco - Amanda Waller.

Waller didn't reply, just glowered back at Nyssa.

"It's a nice plane, Amanda," Laurel said, as Nyssa was frogmarched onto the plane waiting for them.

"There's a TV, Laurel!" Nyssa called over her shoulder, and Laurel couldn't suppress her laugh if she wanted to.

"Ooh! Any champagne?" Laurel asked, her heart soaring when the words elicited a laugh from her love.

Her smile was short-lived, though, as Waller brought up the rear and the plane door closed behind them. This was Laurel's second worst fear come true, of capture and inevitable experimentation, and she wondered if it would lead to her greatest fear of all - that she would be separated eternally from her beloved.

She closed her eyes, as she was being strapped onto the seat of the plane next to her wife. The restraints around her ankles were unnecessarily tight and Laurel could barely move her wrists, but in that moment she felt the gentle press of a single finger hooking around one of hers. It was Nyssa, reassuring her through the tiniest touch that she was there, that she was okay, that they would be, and Laurel wanted so badly to seize Nyssa's hand and kiss it, but she couldn't.

So instead, she squeezed her wife's finger in return, and then murmured the prayer that she hoped was sent up to the heavens, for the two of them to emerge from this intact and together.

Tagging: @skydisneylover @stungunmilly2 @mewis-sisters @therewas-a-girl @bulbasaurfan93 @nyssalance @istanlena @abbyscameron @nyxxyn22 @ineedhelp25fan @theolivekiddo @me-and-sweatpants @rainboisland

#laurel x nyssa #lauryssa #black assassin #laurel lance #nyssa al ghul #arrow #the old guard au #the old guard #arrow fanfiction #mine #my fic #homophobia tw #fic: touch

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blushie14 · 4 years

Text

Unexpected Visitor [Skephalo]

I’ve been in the mood to write a lot lately. In fact, I will most likely post another fanfic soon. ^-^ Anyways, Darryl and Zak finally get to see each other for the first time in real life. However, there is a third person in the mix. I put a bunch of effort into it, so I hope you enjoy!

Darryl cannot recall the last time he's been this nervous, excited, and eager for something so much. He was currently driving in his car, shaking like a leaf as every single emotion was going haywire.

"Alright, calm down Noveschosch. You're only coming over to see a friend. This is not something to get so..." As much as he tried, his thoughts couldn't stop his heart from exploding in excitement. He broke out into a goofy smile and a blush as he screamed to himself. "I'M GOING TO SEE SKEPPYYY!"

Darryl then let out a startled yelp when a car honked behind him. He continued to pay attention to the road, a little embarrassed that he got himself distracted. He went back to grinning not even a second later though. Maybe he’s a bit too eager to see him.

Darryl couldn't really help it though. He had always wanted to meet up with Zak for ages. It was almost unbelievable that it took them this long to see each other. He thought it was even more unbelievable that it was finally happening!

It all started a couple of weeks ago. The both of them were wrapping up an event on Minecraft. They were congratulating the winner and sending money to their PayPal. Zak and Darryl talked for a little bit afterwards, discussing plans.

"So, I actually might not be online for a while since I'm eventually going to pack up my monitor." Zak made an effort to keep a straight face as Darryl made a noise in confusion. "You're packing your monitor away? Why?"

"Well actually, I should probably start packing everything else before that." Zak chuckled.

"What? ...Wait." Darryl gasped. "You're moving?"

"Yeah! I'm finally moving out of my apartment." Zak grinned wide, no longer wanting to contain the secret. "I may or may not have found a house available in Florida."

"Aw well that's great news! I'm really happy for-" Darryl stopped talking and felt his heart skip a beat. Did his ears hear that previous statement correctly? "I-I'm sorry what... what did you just say?"

Zak giggled at Darryl's moment of disbelief. "I said that I may or may not be moving into a house in Florida. 1234 on ___ road." Darryl swore he stopped breathing for a second when it was confirmed what he heard was true.

That was his state.

The address didn't sound that far from his apartment.

He would be able to visit him.

"Ohmygoodness!!! Skeppy!!!" Darryl squealed, almost jumping from his chair in exhilaration. Zak started laughing since he was almost as excited as the other. Darryl was stumbling over his words.

"Do you realize that- I- This is- Oh my gosh! You better not be messing with me or I will-"

"Hehe, Nope! I'm 100% moving to Florida."

"Okay, then.." Darryl let out a small squeal of joy. "We should meet up! After everything gets set up in your new house, let's see each other right away!"

Zak smiled, a warm blush creeping up his neck. "I was thinking the same thing."

Then the weeks went by. Darryl insisted to drive over there when Zak got settled in. They were even debating on the possibilities on where to go to. Now the day is finally here.

He finally arrived in front of Zak's house. Darryl's nerves suddenly skyrocketed and he couldn't stop smiling. He really couldn't pinpoint why he was this anxious, but he decided to take a moment and take deep breaths before stepping outside.

After a few minutes of calming down, he walked up to the door and paused. His eyebrows furrowed, hearing laughter from the inside. Darryl easily identified Zak's endearing laugh, but he also heard someone unfamiliar laughing along.

Darryl knocked on the door and heard Zak's muffled talk. His eagerness was returning and he heard someone inside practically dashing towards the door.

Zak quickly opened the door and beamed when he saw the slightly taller man with brown hair and green eyes. "Bad!"

Darryl's heart swelled with joy seeing Zak's dark brown eyes and raven colored hair. "Skeppy!"

Darryl squeezed him into a hug, almost knocking him over. Zak immediately hugged back as he laughed cheerfully. Neither of them wanted to let go for a while. "Dude! You're so early!" Darryl blushed a bit and smiled wide. "Well I- I really wanted to see you as soon as possible! Don't judge me!"

When both of them finally let go of each other, Darryl noticed another person who was sitting on the couch. It was a woman with long red hair, freckles, and pretty blue eyes. She was staring at them with a curious look on her face.

She started to walk over there with a smile. "Hello, who do we have here?" Zak turned around and smiled at her. "Oh! Veronica, this is Bad! Er- Well I guess I should call him Darryl now." Darryl gave a polite smile. "Hi."

"Bad? Darryl? ..Wait a minute." She pointed at him. "You're badboyhalo, aren't you?" Zak raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you rarely watch my videos."

"Yeah, and I've seen him in almost every single one I watched!" She laughed. "Like what the hell, does he make up like 95% of your channel or something?!" Zak laughed as he felt heat rising up his cheeks. "No he doesn't, shut the hell up!"

Darryl awkwardly smiled at the two, suppressing the urge to say language to the both of them. "So um, your name is Veronica?" She nodded and held out her hand. Darryl took it and she gave a firm handshake. "Yep! Name's Veronica! Nice to meet you Darryl!"

Zak put a hand on her shoulder. "Veronica and I have known each other since high school. We sort of kept in touch a bit." He nervously laughed. "She also sort of... barged in here unannounced. " Veronica laughed.

"Hey! I didn't barge in here, you invited me in!"

"Well yeah, but you were the one who suddenly showed up unexpectedly!"

"What else did you expect me to do when you said you were here in Florida?" She snickered. "Next time, you can barge into my dorm at in inconvenient time so that we are even!"

The two giggled at their antics. Darryl smiled at the two, yet also couldn't help but feel a slight twinge in his heart. "They seem very close together. Are they... No, he would tell me if there were, right? Wait. Why would I feel bad if they were? ..Should I just leave them be?"

"Hey Ske- er um, Zak? You think we could hang out another day? I'd feel bad if I just interrupt you two catching up." Veronica's eyes widen and tried to say something until Zak wrapped his arms around Darryl's left arm. "Nonono don't leave!"

Darryl looked at him and felt his face start to redden when Zak continued whining. "Please don't leave! I've been excited to have you here for weeks, please?" Zak was looking at him with puppy eyes. Darryl felt his heart melt. How could he say no to that?

"Fine you muffin, I'll stay." Zak smiled brightly and fully hugged him. Darryl returned the hug and saw Veronica staring at them again, this time with a grin. Zak let go and look down at himself.

"I should probably go change though. I was going to get ready until somebody invaded my house!" Veronica only cackled in response. Zak smiled, shook his head, and went to the bathroom.

The two were sitting in awkward silence for a bit as Zak was away. Veronica wanted to break the ice first, so she decided to ask a question. "So how long have you two loved each other?" Darryl immediately felt his face burn up. "W-What?!"

She nervously laughed in embarrassment as she realized that probably wasn't the best question to ask. "What I meant to say was, how long have you two known each other?"

Darryl calmed down a bit. "Oh, we've.. known each other for a couple years."

"Ah.." A few more seconds of silence went by. She decided to make Darryl talk some more about Zak in order to break the silence. "So, what was it like when you first met him?"

Oh this was definitely going to take a while.

Darryl talked about the time Zak "applied" to be staff on his server. He recalled how absolutely frustrating and infuriating it was back then. Despite that though, it was now a fond memory to look back to. Not only did he hit 100k subscribers that time, but he grew close to someone who was now one of his best friends.

Darryl's face glowed as he warmly smiled. He wouldn't trade that moment for all the muffins in the world. The red head couldn't stop smiling throughout the whole thing.

"Wow... he really is a lot more different now! Though, I guess his trolly nature didn't leave." She laughed. "Ahh some things never change." This made Darryl curious. "What was he like in high school? What's different?"

"Well first, I don't want to go too much into detail, but let's just say Zak and I kind of hung around with the wrong people." Darryl nodded, recalling that he had said something like that long ago.

"In our old friend group, he was known for messing around with a lot of people. But he was also known for being cold sometimes, not really caring about others or anything at all really." Darryl was surprised. That definitely didn't sound like the Zak he knew at all.

Veronica kind of looked a bit down as she continued. "Most of us were basically jerks and a bunch of morons together. Zak must've realized this and eventually faded from the group. I liked Zak the most out of everyone, so I eventually left as well."

She smiled a little. "I think we're the only ones out of the group who stayed on good terms. I'm happy because I used to not care about my studies, but now I'm in college." Veronica lightly snickered. "One of us had to be the smart one, am I right?"

Darryl slightly chuckled and she proceeded. "As for Zak, I can't believe he's a youtuber now and well... Has he ever told you how lucky he is to have friends like you? He probably wouldn't be like this if it wasn't for you."

"Hahaha, Aww that's not true. It sounded like he turned his life around, which I'm glad to hear! He made a lot of other friends and it's great that you two stayed in touch for that long."

"Yeah but-" She looked at the bathroom door and looked back at Darryl. "Don't tell him I said this, okay?" He was confused but slowly nodded anyways. "I may not know about this exactly, but going off from the goo goo eyes he has whenever he looks at you, I have a feeling that he loves you."

Darryl looked stunned, feeling a blush slowly creep up his neck. "What? ..What are you talking about?" She started to laugh. "Oh come on, don't play dumb with me!"

Her eyes darted to the side, trying to find the right words. "Zak and I keep in touch, but we don't talk a whole lot. Almost every time we do though, he mentions you the most out of all his friends!"

Darryl felt his heart pound as she smiled at him sincerely. "I don't know if you have any idea how much you mean to him. He's never hugged anyone like that before... I've never seen him this happy before. He absolutely adores you."

Darryl looked at the floor, his face being a lovely shade of red. He already knows he was smiling like a love struck fool while Veronica was grinning at the sight, thinking to herself. "Can't really hide it now, can you?"

"He... D-Do you really think he-" Darryl got cut off as he heard the bathroom door open. Zak looked a bit freshened up wearing new clothes. Darryl looked away trying to calm down while Veronica acted like nothing interesting was going on.

"Finally! What the hell were you doing in there?! Putting make-up on?!" Zak bursts out laughing. "No I'm not wearing-! Why don't you try wearing make-up?!" She dramatically gasped and stood up, putting a hand on her hip.

"Did you just call me ugly!? Bitch how dare you, I'm fabulous!" Zak laughed some more while Darryl made a face but also smiled a bit. "Language!"

Zak sat right next to Darryl laughing a bit. "Oh yeah, swearing in front of Bad is a big no no at all times." She chuckled. "Okay? I guess I'll try to keep that in mind."

All three of them hung around the house for a bit. Darryl and Zak were still sitting next to each other, trying to decide where they want to go. Even though they discussed this before, they still can't really decide. The both of them were arguing where to eat. Darryl was on his phone suggesting many places on google maps.

"Okay so what about this place? It’s the closest one from here."

"Nah, I ate there yesterday."

"Oh well then, is there anything that you're craving?"

"Nah, I'm good with whatever."

"What about this pizza place then?"

"Nah, I'm not in the mood for thin crust."

Darryl felt his eye twitch. "Oh my goodness you fatty just pick something already!"

Zak giggled and pointed at a random location on his phone. "What about here?"

"THAT IS A CEMETERY YOU MUFFIN HEAD!"

Zak bursts out laughing as the two continued to bicker back and forth. Veronica was also laughing in the background, enjoying the show. Darryl let a noise of frustration out and faced Zak, inches away from his face.

"You are driving me up the wall, Zak! Stop it!" Zak smirked and didn't budge from his spot. "Or else what?" Veronica let out a loud laugh and speed walked to the door

"Oh my god, I can't! I'm out! GET A ROOM YOU TWO! Jesus Christ!"

Both of their faces went red. Zak jolted away him while Darryl sat in flustered silence "Wh- What do you- Where are you going?!"

Veronica laughed and shouted. "I'm headin out! I'm not about to be the third wheel on your first date with him!"

Zak shrieked. "WE AREN'T DATING! And you don't even have to leave!"

She smugly smiled. "Nah I think I've stayed here long enough." She winked. "Good luck you two~." As she closed the door, the both of them could hear her muffled cackles from here.

Darryl snapped out of his trance while the other was flabbergasted on what just happened. "So... is this a date Skeppy?" Darryl giggled, slightly joking but also wishing for it to be true.

Zak just groaned, too embarrassed at this point. "I hate both of you." Darryl only giggled and hugged him. "Aw, I love you too." Zak hesitantly hugged back while the both of them sat in comfortable silence for a bit. Darryl slowly let go and took out his phone.

"You know what? I feel like ordering takeout instead of going out to eat. Is that alright with you? And then we can go someplace fun afterwards?"

Zak lightly smiled, staring at him. "Sure.. I'd like that."

Few seconds of silence passed He looked up at his phone to see Zak staring at him. Darryl lightly smiled. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Zak grinned, feeling his face warm up. "I just.. still can't believe you're in front of me right now." Zak lightly touched his left cheek as they both looked into each other's eyes.

"..going off from the goo goo eyes he has whenever he looks at you, I have a feeling that he loves you."

"..he loves you."

Darryl felt like he was burning up, suddenly feeling shy. He slightly looked away from him. "I-I'm.. really happy to see you too.."

Zak leaned against his shoulder, pointing at Darryl's phone. "What about this place right here?" Darryl leaned on Zak's head. "Ooh! I’ve tried the food there before, it’s really good. I'll call the place."

The both of them didn't move from their place, smiling to themselves. They could get used to this. It was really peaceful and nice. Really, really nice. It was a quiet moment...

Until they both started to quarrel over who gets to pay for the food.

[End]

Sooo I have to ask, how was Veronica?

I got the idea to write a character like her because almost every time I see a random woman in a Skephalo fanfic, they are either someone who wants one of the boys or a really jealous ex-girlfriend.

I decided to make her a very straightforward person who.. may be a bit too comfortable and a bit invasive for her own good, but still a kind person.

I would love some feedback! I don’t talk a lot, but I really love seeing you guys comment/reblog and like. It always makes me smile! ^w^

#skephalo #skeppy #badboyhalo #my writing #fanfiction #if you made it to the end i love you <3

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catbowserauthor · 3 years

Text

A preview of the next TMNT Empathy story “Aftershocks”

So it’s been forever and day since I worked on my TMNT Empathy series but I got inspired tonight and am finally making progress with the next story, which takes place directly after “Damage.” Or, right after Kala has severed ties with Michelangelo. Here’s a short little preview.

@brightlotusmoon

***

Mess with me and I will let karma do its job. Mess with my family and I will BECOME karma.-Unknown

“This way.”

Michelangelo gave a slight yelp as Raphael pulled him along. He barely had time to straighten his hat to hide his appearance before his older brother was dragging him into the nearby doors. “Dude, why the rush? You have been acting mondo-bizarro.” That was the understatement of the year. First and foremost, when he had dragged himself out of bed, he had been utterly dumbfounded that there was no one shouting at him to get to the dojo. Early morning practice came even before breakfast but no one was rushing him along. When he had rushed into the dojo, certain that he was late, it was empty. Thinking he was beyond late and certainly due for a lecture that would make his ears bleed, he ended up running through the Lair only find that Master Splinter had merely left a note that he had taken Leonardo with him for some meditation practice away from the noise of the Lair.

But what noise? It was silent! Not even workaholic Donatello in his lab!

At least until Raphael practically ambushed him outside the main entrance (“Thanks for the heart attack, compadre!”) and threw the trench coat on him before pulling him through the sewers, proclaiming about them going to be late for the “best morning ever!” He had begun babbling about how there was a special going on with breakfast pizza and how the House of HaHa had their “best acts” performing all day and then how Donatello had some type of special surprise for them before lunch and then they were going to have to raid the comic shops when they opened.

Michelangelo was officially freaked out.

The red banded turtle gave his brother a cheeky grin, rolling his eyes, “Since when does the party-turtle turn down a good time?”

Cocking a suspicious brow ridge, the teenager responded “And since when does my super-cranky amigo become Mister Rogers?”

Raphael pouted, though it never seemed to look right on his face. That was more of a Michelangelo move and even then, not very often. So, he instead pasted another smile on his face, “What, I can’t want to spend some time with my bud every so often?”

Michelangelo tensed “Aw, man, amigo, did you get hit with Donatello’s Personality Alterator again?” That HAD to be the only reason for this maximum-weirdiozo behavior! Raphael, while not cruel, was also not the spoiley, let’s-have-a-guys-day type of turtle. He would go along with it if you pestered or offered but actually instigating it? This was Outer Limits-level odd! Outer Limits crossover with Twilight Zone-kind of odd! If it wasn’t so unnerving, he’d really be enjoying it but given it was such a random shift….he had so many things on his mind after…after Friday night…and he really didn’t need dissecting a brother’s totally nutsoid behavior added to the list.

“Will you stop giving me the tenth degree and just come on?!” Raphael snapped. He stood, pushing his sibling into one of the chairs near the front of the club. There weren’t a lot of people; never really were for a morning show as the House of HaHa was definitely more of a ‘night club’ type of scene but that didn’t mean they didn’t have any acts in the morning. The owner had been proclaiming about it being “a day of laughter” all last week, promising “our best acts every hour!” so Raphael thought it was the perfect spot! After all, he always got a kick of it. His brother could be a LITTLE more appreciative.

“Okay,” Michelangelo admitted with a half laugh, “THERE is Raphael.”

Rolling his eyes, Raphael flagged down one of the servers and asked for “your largest breakfast pizza, all the fixings, and a pitcher of Coke,” before sitting down across from his brother, “Look, sorry that I’m trying to give you a good time. Should I mark it down that Michelangelo wants to foot the bill then?”

Shaking his head, Michelangelo clarified, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, compadre.” He stressed that. “It’s a bodacious idea…breakfast pizza and a free morning…but why?” No lying there. A breakfast pizza, soda and a morning to not worry about training or exercises was totally righteous! That didn’t mean that he didn’t wonder what brought it on though!

Raphael shrugged “Eh, seemed like a good idea and I wasn’t about to turn down Sensei stealing Leonardo.”

Michelangelo nodded, though he didn’t believe him (he knew his brother too well) but their attention was divided when the first comedian made his way up to the stage, obviously not happy at the small group (there were only about three other tables with customers) but when you were a starting comic, you didn’t exactly get top billing. The House of HaHa rarely got what you would call “top notch” comics (given its small size) so it wasn’t usual for small, beginner comics to try their routine on the group. Sometimes with good results, sometimes with bad.

The red banded turtle HOPED the owner hadn’t been lying about the “best acts” part. He needed good comics. He needed to get a laugh out of his younger brother! No more of this mopey, sad and depressed Michelangelo. He couldn’t take it!

Raphael grinned and nudged his brother, “Hey, it’s Joey! Remember him?”

Michelangelo couldn’t say so much he remembered him so much as he recognized him. When they’d saved Raphael from Barney Stockman and Pinky McFingers and their ‘Gag-a-magnifier’ (seriously, who came up with these names?) there had been two comedians with Raphael and this older man was one of them. Apparently, he was still semi-popular as a few of the patrons seemed to recognize him. Michelangelo wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing but he took a sip of water that was offered and focused his attention.

Raphael wanted him to laugh, to feel better. If he was any more blatant about it, it would have been announced with a gong. Raphael had never been good about covering up his emotions, at least as far as Michelangelo was concerned. After the…disaster of a date Friday night, he’d finally gone to bed and had moped around the Lair most of Saturday. When he woke up today, he really didn’t feel much better and would have liked nothing more than to just lay around the Lair doing nothing but what could he do when Raphael had been so insistent? His brother was trying to cheer him up and judging by his statement that Donatello would be joining them later, his other siblings were in on it too. Pretty sweet of them. For all their teasing towards one another, they did love each other, just had different ways of showing it.

So, while Michelangelo inwardly cringed at what might pass for ‘funny’, he had to give a half smile as he went along with it. “Sort of…” he offered his brother but opted not to finish because Joey was starting his routine.

“’Morning Folks,” Joey greeted them. “Glad to see you all. Got a whole new load of questions for you today!” He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, “So, the other day, I’m chatting with the baker down at the store, just the usual catching up kind of thing and he tells me that he and his wife weren’t able to get the new car they were planning on. Know why?”

Michelangelo groaned inwardly as Raphael and for that matter, most of the audience, finished with “he didn’t make enough dough.”

Joey smiled and offered a wink. “You got it folks. Felt bad for the guy, I really did. He’s got two kids, see, and his daughter’s been feeling really down in the dumps. Heck, she went to the river yesterday to…”

“Fish for compliments,” Raphael chimed in.

A few of the audience members clapped but Michelangelo winced, burying his face into his arms to suppress a groan. Man, this guy was bad. Nothing against the guy but the jokes…they were painful!

“And you know the other day, I found out that it’s not just humans that can be rude. I met the rudest bird in my garden. He was a …”

“Mocking bird!”

Michelangelo did groan that time.

This kind of back and forth continued for about ten minutes before Joey finally left the stage when he stopped getting laughs and even the other people in the club were starting to look disinterested. Raphael could see the owner gesturing to him from the side and finally he got the hint. Well, Joey had never been the best of that group of three, at least in the red banded turtle’s opinion. Raphael looked up to his younger brother and made a face. Michelangelo had buried his head into his folded arms but he wasn’t asleep. Looks like he wasn’t the only one with that opinion. “Eh, okay, Michelangelo so Joey’s talent isn’t exactly his jokes.”

“Mondo understatement, Dude.” He remarked. Lifting his head, he remarked “I mean, I give the Dude points for gettin’ up there and trying but those were really mondo-bad.”

The server finally brought out their pizza at that point and it was excellent timing. Raphael had a feeling that this wasn’t going like he had hoped. Best acts his shell! He had a few words to exchange with the owner over that. Aside from a small smile at the beginning, his brother still had that depressed look and darn it, Michelangelo was not meant to be depressed! He was the turtle that was supposed to be full of life and happy and smiling but…because of a girl’s selfish actions, here he was, trying to cheer up the cheerleader! It was completely backwards!

“Alright! Bodacious!” Michelangelo took hold of the nearest slice, grinning widely. Loaded down with all the fixings, yes, this looked wonderful. He took a giant bite of a slice, relishing in the egg, sausage, bacon, tomato and even the thin coating of grits that was underneath the cheese. Breakfast pizza was usually more complicated and they didn’t routinely make it so getting a large one was a real treat. It gave him something to focus on besides what was rushing through his head. Despite his brother’s attempts, Michelangelo found his thoughts still drifted to Kala.

Why wouldn’t she let him help her? He’d do anything to help her! Hadn’t he shown her that? Didn’t she know that—

“Hey! Daydreamer!”

His brother’s sharp tone snapped him out of his somber thinking and he blinked, taking in Raphael’s concerned-but-covered-up-with-annoyance look. He knew that look anywhere. You didn’t grow up with someone and not learn their looks, despite how they might try and hide them. “Oh, major league sorry, Raphael. What did you say?” He took another bite of the pizza slice in his hand, realizing he must have been thinking a bit because some of it had tumbled onto his plate. Not like him to waste pizza toppings.

Rolling his eyes, Raphael responded “I said not to let Joey throw you off. They DO have good comedians here! Hey, they liked my routine!”

Michelangelo didn’t say anything for a moment. Okay, so his brother wasn’t HORRIBLE per say but he wouldn’t exactly say that he was ‘great’ either. At least not when he was trying to be funny. “Oh.” He finally said but then promptly wanted to slap himself in the forehead. Michelangelo didn’t say ‘oh,’ he didn’t just sit there and stare blankly ahead either. He was totally failing in his brother role right now! He was supposed to be supportive of family goals and his brother was totally going out of his way to make him feel better and he was being a major wet rag about it! Maybe he should pick up the tab…

“Hey!” Raphael chimed in, oddly enough, not hurt. “I’m pretty good!”

Refocused again, Michelangelo clarified “When you’re not trying, you are, Dude.”

Under normal circumstances, Raphael would have taken that as an insult. However, Michelangelo had been showing since Friday night that his humor radar was deeply off kilter. Plus, he hadn’t said he _wasn’t_ funny, just that he was funny when he wasn’t trying. Well, what did that mean?! Raphael took the bait and inquired as much with another bite of pizza himself, “Whatta you mean, when I’m not trying? I put a ton of work into my jokes, I’ll have you know!” He gave his sibling a half pout but once again, that look just didn’t work for him.

“Oh, believe me, we know” Michelangelo replied to his brother “But your jokes aren’t when you’re funny, Raphael,” he responded simply “Sorry to bust your bubble, amigo. It’s when you’re just talkin’ about our family or our mondo-crazy lives or the latest near-death avoidance fiasco that you’re funny.” He added “See, real life is funny enough and you’re bodacious at pointing that out.” He took another bite of pizza, swallowed and said “You try, like, way too hard, compadre, to be funny. Don’t try so hard.”

Raphael had to admit that this took him by surprise. He had always thought that being funny meant pouring more skill into his writing of jokes and routines. But faced with this information, he frowned, considered.

“Well, that settles it.” Pushing his plate aside, Raphael stood and made his way to the front of the room. Michelangelo reached after him, calling for him to come back, no doubt thinking that he’d hurt his feelings but the red banded turtle was on a mission now. His little brother needed to smile, damn it! And if the comedians provided by this club weren’t going to cut it, then shell it all, he’d do it himself!

#tmnt #1987 tmnt #1987 teenage mutant ninja turtles #BIG BROTHER RAPH #heartbroken mikey #depressed mikey #family support #family love #empathy series #Mikey is a sweetheart

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