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afreakingdork · 1 year

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Weak Spot - Chapter 16

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Slice of Life, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Synopsis: Though it hadn't come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

WARNING: This chapter contains mind break, extreme fear, and non-con elements. Minors DNI!

Please keep yourself safe and know this is not the norm for this fic.

“Are you ready?” If he were any other version of himself, you might have imagined Donnie would be jumping up and down with glee. Instead, that particular feature played only in his eyes as he evaluated you.

“Yes.” You considered doing some light stretches, but instead scuffed your old tennis shoe soles against the ground. Your whole outfit was a menagerie of pieces that you’d agreed were dispensable and it left you feeling a little grubby.

“The safe word?” He reached out and plucked something from your shoulder before flicking it away. You had a feeling there was nothing there as his excited energy was palpable. He could hardly keep his hands to himself.

“Gargoyle.” You nodded appropriately.

“The terms?” He stepped closer.

You looked up at him with a confident smile. “You have within the time it takes for me to get to your apartment to catch me. Pretty much anything is fair game in the chase outside of bodily harm and illegal acts. If I beat you back then you have to do what I want, within reason, and the reverse is true if you get me.”

He hummed as if a delicious meal had been laid out before him.

Though he’d offhandedly made a comment about the spontaneity of the chase effecting the scent. He’d jumped at the chance to set up parameters with his usual inquisitive excitement. Anything with rules was an experiment in the making and he loved to push the boundaries of science. There were a ton of other caveats that had been discussed in the prior weeks, but it would have taken note cards to remember all the little details. Even today’s date had been one of many tentative selections that seemed to hinge on any number of factors that you had lost sight of. The bare minimum explanation you gave covered enough and Donnie was obviously satisfied with that answer. You still weren’t exactly sure where you landed on the chase as a whole yet, but his overall zeal was intoxicating.

You also weren’t too upset about the intense amount of attention he’d been paying you.

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been on the receiving end before, but this was the first time you got to accommodate an active role. He had been asking questions at all hours of the day. He didn’t seem to need immediate responses, but it was obviously taking up a majority of his thoughts and he need to get his ideas out as soon as they came to him. From the content, your safety had been his highest priority. If you even hesitated for a moment, he’d either immediately abandon whatever idea or shift to reframe it. It was why you felt especially secure considering how much you didn’t know.

For as many questions as he asked, you had a sense that many of them were red herrings. There were some things so outlandish that they had to be attempts to throw you off. His fatal flaw had coincidentally come with his lengthy planning period. It had given you time to become adept at answering plainly even when asked a fraudulent question. It had been further enforced when you pinged the self-satisfied aura he’d come away with after supposedly tricking you. For all his complexities, he was equally simple in many ways. The dichotomy was adorable and was the secondary reason you let the unknowns slide.

For as often as he liked minimizing his existence, he also loved putting on a show. You assumed he wanted to keep a certain air of mystic since he’d lost the full option for surprise He was probably tampering with the scent like some kind of perfumer.

You rolled your neck and, when you came out of it, he was watching you with a growing smile. “What’s up?”

“One last thing and arguably the most important.” He reached forward and his fingers tickled the underside of your chip. He cupped your jaw and held your face with an intense tenderness that you weren’t expecting. You then glimpsed one last shine of his smile before he leaned forward to place his forehead to yours. “Thank you.”

Had you gotten one of those before?

It was your turn to keep your excitement bottled up for decorum’s sake.

He was about to chase you after all.

Needing to stay strong for the course ahead, you settled on putting your hands over his. “Of course.”

He gave you a little squeeze and then released you. He checked his watch and nodded his head with what you assumed was the second hand. “You have a 10 minute head start.”

You nodded and waved to him despite what was about to happen. He took it in lazily and you turned to head down the road. To you, the starting point had seemed arbitrary, but you doubted that was the same for Donnie. You made it about a block away before you chanced a look back. He was gone from his spot, but you expected as much. You had been wrestling over the head start for the past few days. Initially, you figured you’d try to put as much distance between you and him as possible, but as the date approached, you started to realize how futile that would be. The glimpses of his strength you had seen were mindboggling and you had a hunch that they were all held back versions of what he was actually capable of.

Your best indication had been the night this had all started. He’d been able to disappear in a locked room in the blink of an eye. He’d moved silently only until he wanted to be heard. He’d then manifested with that same speed all while moving objects around.

How were you supposed to compete with that?

You decided you weren’t.

Walking leisurely and stuffing your hands in your pockets, you surveyed the street. There wasn’t an exact path agreed upon and you’d chosen to take the most open road. It meant pedestrians. It meant well lit streets. It meant that someone would notice if you disappeared from plain sight and would certainly call the police. If that happened, it would be an immediate loss on his part. He was crafty without question, but you were curious how he’d try to circumvent that.

Crossing a road and taking a corner, you made up the rest of your time getting to the busier thoroughfare. There were people milling about, lights in windows, and a car here and there. You looked upon them with a smirk and strolled among them. From your pocket you checked your phone and found the time frame had officially started. Replacing the device, you moved to comb the street. So far, there wasn’t anything out of place, but you also weren’t exactly sure what you were looking for. Nothing seemed out of the realm of possibility for him and that started you out on a sort of edge.

Tempering it, you reminded yourself of the structure of horror movies. Suspense needed to be built up in the unwitting protagonist. As far as you knew, Donnie hadn’t tried to bridge his movie knowledge gap. References thrown at him were still left with him waiting for you to explain so you hoped he didn’t knew little about this trope. His only comment about suspense was what you were exactly about to avoid. You wouldn’t ignore the building fear. You’d take in whatever happened and remind yourself each time that it was Donnie doing this.

There was no way he’d hurt you.

Smiling at that, you swiveled on another scan. Approaching an alley, you readied yourself in case a can rolled out or some kind of noise tried to startle you. When nothing did, you almost frowned. It was possible that something like that was too obvious. It was another train of thought you’d been caught on. Acts of service were Donnie’s primary love language, but they ranged from small to big. It seemed dependent on how much impact the move would have. With this, it could go either way, which left it all the more confusing.

Would he stretch it out as long as possible?

Was he just trying to win?

Wasn’t the goal to scare you?

Envisioning displays both large and small, you were caught on which would be preferred. A group of people laughed across the street and you regarded them with a turn of your head. So far it seemed like nothing more than a peaceful night. The total path meant approximately 30 minutes to your destination and you’d already shaved a nice chunk of time off that. You supposed trying to anticipate every contingency was more his style than yours. You only needed to worry about your reaction and getting to his apartment.

With a renewed pep in your step, you crossed another street. You did so with a light jog and a false sense of confidence that you clocked immediately. You couldn’t have that so as you came up the curb, you attempted to beat the air out of the thing. You were socking a mental punching bag when the hum of a streetlight seemed particularly loud. You slowed to look at it and it was hypnotizing in a way. You only broke away when the gleam started to sting and the buzz chased you like tinnitus. You brought a hand up to your ear and rubbed the drum from the outside. The sound abated and when you lowered your hands, you felt the shift.

Turning slowly, you saw that there was no longer anyone out on the road. Even the group of people who should still have been within sight, weren’t on the stoop they’d been leaning against. Moving to look the other direction, no more cars passed. The street was utterly devoid of life. You could almost imagine a cartoon tumble weed rolling through. It was enough to walk you straight off the sidewalk and into the road.

As far as you could see both ways, there were no cars. Even the ones you swore were parked on the sides of the road had vanished. You knew for a fact you hadn’t heard any engines start. Despite your wonder, you’d been on high alert. You’d been scanning for even the slightest anomaly.

He was strong, but there was no way he could make cars disappear.

Right?

Your heart beat picked up slightly and you reminded yourself of the mantra.

It was Donnie.

He wouldn’t hurt you.

Heading back to the sidewalk, you picked up the pace. It was to make up for the time you’d lost exploring. There was no other reason. Another hissing streetlight passed and you glanced past it to the apartments looming overhead.

They were dark.

That had you come to an abrupt halt.

This was New York City.

There was no way someone wasn’t awake.

Doing a vicious double take, the entire line of buildings all stood as black husks of their usual glory. Spinning around, the side of the street you were on was painted in a similar shade. For every single window, not a single glow came through.

You were running.

It wasn’t out of fear, but because you’d clearly walked into something. Donnie had created some kind of simulation. Your sneakers screeched as you came to a halt.

No.

You reached up and scrubbed at your head.

There had been something about that streetlamp so maybe he’d taken the time to drop of VR headset on you. Finding nothing but your own hair, you searched your body. Outside of the chase, he’d definitely said something about never giving you anything without your knowledge. You wondered if that applied here as you searched for any indication that you’d been shot with a dart. Again you search came up with nothing and you raced back through your memories.

What had you done prior to this?

You’d gone to work.

You’d eaten a lunch you packed.

You’d gone home.

You’d washed up.

You’d changed.

You’d ate a light dinner.

You’d gone to meet Donnie.

Could he have tampered with any of that?

Finding nothing you scanned the street again. It was the same ghostly version of itself and you went to check the back of your neck. Smooth skin and bone underneath was all you could feel.

How?

How had he done this?

Returning to the formula of movies, you came to holograms. That was technology well within his wheelhouse and you shot over to the nearest building. You slammed a hand against the brick and didn’t dismiss any projection. Looking up at all the darkened glass, you took several long steps down the road while keeping your hand steady. You still didn’t hit anything and glowered.

It was Donnie.

He wouldn’t hurt you.

Moving out towards the road, you extended a hand as you walked in case you hit a cloaked parked car. You made it an entire block without touching a single thing.

That was a complete impossibility.

There were always cars.

Glancing again to see that the towers overhead were still dark, reeled your hand in.

He had to be watching.

This had been about scent, hadn’t it?

He was close by or would be making sure he could be.

In another rapid pivot, you scanned for cameras.

The first you caught was on the corner near a closed bodega. It’s little white hood was turned all the way in on itself. It had been purposefully turned away from the road it was meant to look upon.

Frowning deeply, your eyes jumped for the next one. You pinged a dark globe that surely held surveillance of some kind. You had to cross the street and didn’t bother looking both ways. As you closed in on the bauble, you caught how matte it was. It took some maneuvering to make the streetlight bounce off of it, but you saw the distinct hurried swipes of black paint.

It had been blacked out.

Heart nearly racing out of your chest, your gaze flew to the rooftops. Across the street was clear and you had to walk back into the road to check your side. It was also clear, but you tracked slowly to catch even the slightest movement. Seeing none, you wobbled overtop a pot hole. It wasn’t too large to warrant city intervention, so you took a few steps back to stare at it.

How was any of this possible?

The only time they’d closed down roads like this was for some kind of filming and even that would require a budget studios rarely paid these days.

Your eyes widened.

Donatello had been known to throw around strange amounts of cash.

Smothering the drum in your chest, you looked up and down the length of road. The only thing that explanation didn’t cover was speed at which things had changed, but you supposed with enough money anything was possible. Quelled, you set your features and hoped he saw. You given into some minor agitation, but you’d found a way out. Feeling more determined, you lifted your head and set your sights on the sidewalk. You lifted your foot and in your first step, you heard a loud noise that bordered on a crunch.

Looking down the street you’d come from, you noticed it was especially dark as far back as could see. Squinting, you barely avoided the pothole as you took a few tentative steps to get a better look. That sound echoed again and this time you watched as a streetlight went out far down the road.

Oh.

You backpedalled and your foot caught the divot in the ground.

In rapid succession as if to catch up with your fall, several lights all extinguished right until the moment your ass hit the road.

Though still a ways down, you could now see there was a clear line where the inky blackness reached.

It had you scrambling to your feet.

Another lamp went out.

You would have to turn away to run. You couldn’t afford to fall again.

It was more of a clack as the next streetlight went dark.

The noise didn’t sound like destruction.

Clack.

It also definitely didn’t sound like flipping a switch.

Clack.

It was like they were being blinked out of existence.

The sound chased you as you belted down the road. It was nearly on your heels as you saw the first corner and took it. He would have had to think this through. He couldn’t just buy the entire city. No one had enough money for that. He would have purchased sections that led to his apartment.

That left you with a choice.

You could play into his horrifying plan by taking his path and the horrors he’d paved along it or you could forge a totally new one and not give him the satisfaction.

There was also something about how it got you further from your destination, but you’d already long given up on trying to outrun him. You just needed to avoid being caught. You needed to surround yourself with people again. You needed light. There was an explosion of trash cans out of an alley and you skidded to a stop in a way that made you fumble to your knees .

You stared owlishly at the trash that smoldered in the road.

There was a sound behind you.

Putting your hands to the ground to stabilize yourself, you turned around.

The entire street you had just come from was pitch black.

Another sound echoed from where you had once been facing.

Dread strangled you and you knew exactly what would be waiting for you if you looked.

Unable to stop it, your head made the move and darkness stretched out in front of you.

Looking up, you stared as the only streetlight still active loomed overhead.

He’d even planned for this.

With the tatters your dignity was in, you shakily got to your feet.

You were standing in the dead center of a glowing oasis.

There was always the safe word.

You could call this all off.

Leaving the bask to lower your head, you took a long breath.

It was Donnie.

He wouldn’t hurt you.

You headed over to the burning trash. The smell assaulted your senses, but you shoved it aside to visually pick through it. There was a pole that seemed to be the remnants of a curtain rod and you picked it up. You then examined the flaming pieces and violently skewered several burning blobs until they formed a torch. You could have easily just used your phone for light, but you hoped this imagery of you not shying away from whatever nonsense he had cooked up would get him.

Even the littlest bit.

You marched out of the light and as soon as you stepped in the darkness, it clicked off.

Your field of vision shrank to the circle the torch afforded you.

You held it at attention as you moved back onto the road you had once been taking. It looked identical though now the flickering light of your source caste odd wobbling shadows amongst the brick.

You didn’t like that.

Ignoring it as it was of your own design, you marched down the sidewalk. You ignored the phantoms lapping at the walls and focused solely on your destination.

It couldn’t be much further now.

You passed a fire escape and heard an odd whistle. Not pausing to indulge it, you heard it pick up. It wasn’t until you felt the first tickles against your arm did you realize what it was. Dropping the torch behind your body a little too late, an absurd gust of wind rushed around you and extinguished the fire in a suck of oxygen. You could smell the smoke billowing off of it more than you could see it. Dropping the thing to the ground in a clatter, you went for your phone. The smooth of your pocket chased your hand and you felt the pinpricks of tears on your eyes.

You couldn’t have misplaced it.

Scouring all your pockets, you found them all empty and sank to the ground.

Could it have happened when you fell?

Which time?

You didn’t hear a phone fall.

That was a pretty distinct noise.

Your eyes widened and in doing so you could only make out vague shapes in the dark.

Had he been so close that he lifted it off of you?

On cue you heard your ringtone go off.

It sounded like it was right behind you.

Spinning around, there was nothing there and the sound was gone.

“No.”

The sound was so pathetic coming off your lips.

You stumbled backwards until your back bit a building.

Had he been ghosting you the whole time?

Moving easily just out of sight with that speed of his?

You resisted the urge to look back and forth. You had a semi-circle of impaired vision and your periphery was good enough.

You saw the faint lines where the sidewalk dropped off, the pole of a darkened street lamp, and the brickwork faintly across the street.

You couldn’t even hear your heartbeat any more.

Your breathing was far too labored.

Against your will, your vision trended upward. You barely saw the glimmer of stars, but that was to be expected with the city’s air pollution. What wasn’t was the lack of moon.

Had he gone so far as to pick the new lunar cycle?

It was Donnie.

You ran.

It was a full tilt run that nearly threw you off your feet as you started.

A sound scraped behind you; almost like a huge metal weight dragging across the road.

You couldn’t look back.

It grew louder until it the distinct sound of splitting rubble joined it.

Your legs were pumping so hard that your knees screamed at the force.

It sounded as if the entire road was being torn open.

It was deafening.

There was no time.

It was so close.

You had to keep moving.

You screwed your eyes shut as your speed caused the wind to sting.

The earth itself was splitting open behind you.

You tried to scream, but the sound refused to reach your ears.

You flew over a curb and across another road.

As soon as you landed back on the sidewalk the sound stopped.

All sound stopped.

How long had it been since you’d even heard the meandering sounds of the city?

Stumbling on limbs that hadn’t been put through this kind of exertion in years, you wheezed.

Silence.

Darkness.

It all threatened to swallow you up.

Your lip quivered as you turned around.

The road was fine.

There was no rubble.

As far back as you could see it was an average street.

You threatened to tip over as you gawked.

You could see quite a ways.

The streetlamps were on.

You flounderd out into the road and a car horn blared.

Reeling, you tripped backwards and landed, hard, on the concrete.

“You okay?”

Shaking and trying to still enough so your vision wasn’t blurred, you looked overhead to find a teenager staring at you with concern.

You knew if you reached out to touch him that he would probably think you were insane.

You probably were.

“J-just… d-distracted… is all…” Your hands quaked and you forced them to the ground. You could sense the kid hover nearby as you got to your feet and immediately had to cling to a mailbox to keep yourself upright. “Tired.”

He gave an unconvinced nod.

You shook your head and stood a little straighter. “I’m just spooked. I’m… alright.”

“Uh, alright. If you’re sure.” He seemed to study you or a second longer before continuing on his way.

You watched him for a long time.

Everything seemed totally normal.

You pushed off the mailbox and took a few tentative steps. Your legs held and from the look of the buildings, you were about 10 minutes away from Donnie’s apartment. You flinched at a mild ruckus that came to you as two people shouted about their relationship status somewhere down the road.

You were dizzy.

You forced your legs to keep propelling you forward.

What had and hadn’t happened?

Running back your memories, you idly passed an alley. Something cold lapped at your arm and you scrubbed at it absentmindedly. It had a thick scaled weight to it and you jumped. There was nothing there, but the mouth of the inlet. You stared into the dark and somehow not even the light of the street could permeate it.

This was bad.

You took a step back and, as soon as your foot hit the pavement, the darkness was around you.

Your fists white knuckled and your spine went rigid.

You weren’t in the alley.

You were still staring at it.

Against every sane thought, you turned to look down the street.

Everything was gone.

All the people you had just seen.

The lights.

The cars.

It was back to the hellscape.

Your eyes burned with tears.

“How?”

Your voice sounded hoarse.

Hadn’t you just screamed the one time?

You turned your attention to the alley.

It was still untouched by illumination.

Something wrapped around your leg and you were airborne.

This time you could hear the scream it pulled from you.

You rose up at least two stories by your leg alone and your hip threatened to pop out of socket.

You clambered to get ahold of anything when the ground was suddenly rushing back to you.

You threw your arms up to block the fall when you stopped short.

Your weight settled and you were up on all fours in an instant.

You had been simply laying on the ground.

You screamed.

As loud as you could with every ounce of oxygen in your body.

The edges of your vision blacked out at the force and you curled into yourself on the ground.

As you regained the tatters of your sanity, you sobbed.

No tears came but your staggered breaths echoed in your ears. You flexed your finger tips into the concrete. Under your pads the uneven surface felt worn and dirty. You clawed at it and raised your head up. In the alley two circles of light stared back at you.

You could feel the color drain from your skin.

They looked almost like eyes and you numbly rocked back until you were sitting on your heels.

You couldn’t look away as they grew closer.

The way they bobbed made it seem like someone was taking steps.

Someone very tall.

They narrowed in on you and you could only hopelessly stare back.

The brightness burned your corneas.

They stopped right at the mouth of the alley.

You opened your mouth as if to speak when the color suddenly clicked over to purple.

It was the last thing you saw something wrapped around your head.

You went to grab at it and found your arms pinned to your sides.

In several rotations you were turned until you felt yourself pressed up against someone. It wasn’t until you tried to pull back that you realized the spin had coiled you up in a snake-like wrap. You sputtered and felt hot breath against your ear as the cloth around your eyes was tied off tightly.

“Caught you.”

The pitch was all wrong.

It didn’t make any sense.

That wasn’t Donnie.

Your stomach bottomed out.

That had been the furthest thought from your mind.

You hadn’t considered that someone else could interfere.

Someone else.

You wanted to vomit.

That would deter them, right?

You tried to summon bile, but you were in motion again.

The blindfold meant your bearings were off as your feet hadn’t been on the floor in who knows how long.

Nothing made sense.

“I’ll have my way with you.”

It was wrong.

It was so wrong.

You couldn’t place that damn voice.

You tried to yell at it, but those heavy vines coiled around your throat. Instead of manipulating you they seemed to simply be writing over your body. You tried to suck in a breath and felt the way scaled surface hooked on your clothes. You hissed as there was a tear somewhere and you only identified in when the chilled metal lapped at your waist.

The wrap fell away from your neck and you desperately tried to regain your bruised voice.

More tearing occurred and you were being spun around again.

Brick bit into your face and the entirety of a wall pressed flush with your body.

Still being jostled, its rough surface chipped nicks into your flesh.

You were nearly naked when you were finally dropped to your feet.

The coils left your arms and you immediately lashed out.

The first strike connected with raw metal.

On contact, you felt the rush of hot fluids from your now blooded knuckles.

The second slap hit something blocky.

It was a shape unmistakable to your hand, but not one you’d ever encountered.

Finally mustering a fist, the last punch connected it with a face.

It was smooth.

No snout.

Not Donnie.

You’d only known it to be a face from the way the person heaved against the strike.

Like someone who’d been punched in the mouth.

You wanted to do more damage when something got hold of the back of your head.

It felt nothing like the tridactyl hands you knew.

Not Donnie.

You found a noise came from you and you went to chase it.

It was smothered as you were again slammed into the wall.

Your jaw was pressed out of place by that dagger-like nails digging viciously into your scalp.

You cried out a single garbled syllable that the figure seemed to momentarily stop at.

They then pressed forth and you felt your hips leave the wall.

You didn’t need specificity for the next thing out of your mouth.

“No!” You hiccupped on the word and dragged it out in agony.

The pressure intensified against your head as your legs were kicked apart.

You fought against the move in a desperate attempt to close them when those terrible coils wound around your legs.

You shrieked and just barely caught the sound of fabric shifting.

You went dead silent at the sound.

You knew what it meant.

Everything started back up in a instant.

Curses came off your lips until a triangle point entered your mouth.

It tasted like steel and you choked on it as it bit into your inner cheek.

Something slotted at your entrance and screeched.

You writhed desperately and felt how it slid easily against you.

There was no way you were wet from this.

What was it?

Not Donnie.

You fought as it pushed into you and felt your will draining away at the thickness.

Even that wasn’t right.

None of it was.

Tears burned into your blindfold until the fabric could hold no more.

It then wrung like a rag against the wall and caused a cascade that comingled with snot dripping from your nose into your mouth.

It was dark.

It felt like you opened your eyes and you were sat in a black room.

It was dark as far as you could see, but there were definitely walls.

Looking down, you found a spiraled pit of black sand. It tickled at your toes and you stepped forward. You sank with each subsequent step. As it reached your waist it grew more difficult to move so you reached down. Scooping up a handful, you watched how the granules refused to stick to your skin.

Even this place was all wrong.

You scooped more and more until you were digging down around your legs. The sand moved away from you as if repelled which made you chase it all the more. Craning over, you dug until you felt what should have been the ground. Your hand instead kept going and you were sucked straight through.

Appearing on the other side as if gravity reversed, you were in a room of all white.

In contrast, it appeared more like a void as you saw no boundary lines.

Pure unadulterated fear filled you as you sensed something behind you.

You spun around with your fists at the ready and froze at the sight: a towering figure of undulating black mist sat staring at you with perfectly rounded white eyes.

You tried to move; to strike the formless blob.

You found yourself trapped and staring at how the smoke wafted off of it in upward clouds that lost opacity.

There were screams there.

The mist was screaming.

It sounded like your voice.

You felt yourself falling.

“Y/N.”

You were seated.

“Y/N!”

Something had a grip on your arm and was shaking you.

You weren’t sure if you were fighting back against it, but you imagined you were.

“Y/N, please! Can you hear me?”

A whine escaped you and you felt a balled fist break free from a blanket.

You were swaddled.

You used it to strike a rock hard chest.

“Y/N, listen. I need you to open your eyes.”

You shook your head.

You had a blindfold on.

“Y/N!”

There were tears again.

They were flowing freely down your cheeks.

“It’s Donatello. I need you to open your eyes. I need you to see that. I’m here. You’re in an alley.”

You continued to struggle, but slowed.

Was that right?

You couldn’t feel anything through the thick cotton tightly wrapped around you.

You pushed away from the voice as far as you could.

There was an arm that stopped you.

You were being held.

You tensed and slowly felt the muscles in your face relax.

They had been tight for so long it burned.

Your eyes came next.

There was no cloth.

How long had it been gone?

You tried to open them but a tacky substance made the move difficult.

You had to psychically peel your lids apart.

The sensation was terrible.

Bleary darkness crept in and you seized up at it.

“Hey. Hey! I’m here. It’s me. You need to look.”

You peered through the tiniest slit.

Donatello was hovering over you, his features bleeding with panic.

You blinked and the sticky goo caused a hitch, but you got your eyes open again. This time you saw past him to a dark sky and a clipping of a brick rooftop.

“I’m here. You’re in an alley. You’re safe.” He leaned forward and basal terror shot through you.

He immediately backed off and your heart ached despite its incongruent beating.

You wanted to cry.

Would that make the gummy feeling go away?

“D…Don?”

“Hi.” One of his hands did a swipe of your face. “Hey.” His other did something similar and you wondered what he was wiping away. “You’re okay.”

Your face immediately contorted up around a well of tears.

You caught only a glimpse of the horror on Donnie’s face before you broke down.

You could feel how dramatic it was, but could do nothing to stop it.

You wailed loudly and felt him gather you up to him.

You fought him blindly long enough to free both your limbs to cling to him.

Cradling you close, you sank into his chest. You weren’t sure for how long, but by your headache you must have cried for a long time. You came out of it in a slow tapering and it carried a clarity along with it. Feeling a hollow shell, but at least incrementally like your usual self, you brought your head up. A handkerchief appeared to the left of Donnie’s head and you did not have the mental facilities to figure out how that had happened. He plucked it from the air and, instead of giving it to you, he wiped at your face, staring with your left eye.

The tenderness he exerted was a soothing balm on your otherwise stunted emotional state. The cloth came away and he adjusted it. You watched blearily as you noticed the marks that stained it. You must have been pretty dirty which explained the sticky feeling. You weren’t exactly sure when it’d happened, but so much had gotten away from you at this point you still weren’t truly sure this was even real. He brushed your right eye before wrapping the hankie around your nose. You took over from there and gave a blow.

Gathering as much snot as you could, you caught the very thinly veiled disgust on Donnie’s face. It brought a faint smile to your face that you hid within the cloth. Exhaustion was eating away at you and you shifted against the tightly wrapped blanket. Earlier, it probably served a greater purpose, but now it felt restrictive. One of Donnie’s hands landed on your knee and caught the unfurling edge.

“It’s covering you up.”

That made sense, but everything that had happened felt like a far flung memory. Still, you focused on your body and with it felt the tatters of clothes left. A clipping of snake-like coils came too, but you abandoned the thought as soon as they reared. Focusing on the now, you tried to locate the most pressing matter that needed to be dealt with. “I want to go home.” There was a shattered quality to your voice as you looked up at Donnie.

He was immediately caught by your gaze in a fearful way. He then shifted and seemed to be tapping on something behind your head. “I’ll summon the car, it’ll just take-”

You shook your head and pressed a hand to his plastron to stop him.

He froze up in wait.

“Your home.” You clarified before ducking into his chest. You no longer had the energy for embarrassment, but you had pictured his apartment when you said the phrase.

What did that mean?

It didn’t matter, everything was jumbled anyway.

Something seemed to click for him and you could feel the determination wafting off of him. “In that case…”

He rose up with you bundled in his arms. Another other time and you might have protested to walk. Right now, that seemed like too much of a chore.

Everything did.

You curled your face into his neck. “Now.”

Even with you pressed to him, he cradled you impossibly closer until he tipped his head down to whisper in your ear. “Hold on.”

Your arms were technically free, but you couldn’t manage getting them around his neck. Instead you settled for tucking your hands against his plastron before everything shifted into motion. The sharp air current meant you were moving at an insane speed, but it barely registered in your overtaxed senses. You winced into Donnie’s throat and tried to shut out all errant sensations that weren’t him.

He kept the jostling to a minimum and you only allowed yourself to feel once a door was opened. Set to a speed walk, you peered over his shoulder to find you were in his apartment building. It didn’t look like the lobby, but you snuggled back into your cocoon. There was a momentary pause at a door and you heard no keys jingle as it opened. You were vaguely aware he hadn’t even needed to juggle you to get the threshold open, but all curiosity dissipated as you were carefully deposited on the couch. He then knelt on one knee in front of you and was the picture of concern.

“What do you need?”

You weren’t sure so you shook your head.

Donnie did not appear content with this answer and stood. “I’m going to make some tea and run you..” He looked you over. “A shower would be preferable with the grime, but baths have soothing connotations...”

“Bath.” You agreed and idly wondered at how filthy you were.

Donnie padded off to the kitchen and you heard several sounds that didn’t seem like putting a kettle on. There was a metallic nature that you shrank away from so you focused the dirt splotches on your blanket. Having the time to examine the thing in the artificial light of the apartment, you smoothed a hand over its pale purple surface. It had the density of a down comforter, but you hadn’t seen anything like this in his apartment. You wondered how he had such a bulky thing on hand when you caught a glimpse of yours. Your palms were near black and you saw a faint reel of how many times you’d placed them on the ground. Grimacing, you unfurled the blanket burrito to stand.

Immediately regretting the decision, the colder outside air leaked in and lapped at your bare skin. Of your shirt, all that was left was the collar and one sleeve that hung on for dear life. The rest was gone along with your undergarments. Down below, the waistband on your pants still sat on your hips, but they had been split in twain. You couldn’t even call the fabric left shorts and you only had one tennis shoe left with a blackened sock poked with holes on the other foot.

Donnie caught wind of your discomfort and headed over as you loosely tented the blanket back around you. He hovered nearby and you plopped back down on the couch, defeated. He lowered to a knee to get a glimpse of your downtrodden face.

“Y/N.”

“How do I know what’s real?” You tried your damndest to keep your voice even.

He seemed to think before reaching out to brush your cheek. “This is real.”

He’s said that before.

Hadn’t he?

You wanted to believe him. “Is it?”

His brows knit and there was a beep from the kitchen. He grumbled something under his breath before departing. Keeping your gaze glued to the floor, you listened as water was poured into two different receptacles. Something digital beeped as you assumed a timer was set before he reappeared in your sight line.

You turned away from him.

He made a move to take your hand, but stopped short. You imagined he probably didn’t want to touch you considering how dirty you were and tucked the appendage into the blanket. He rose and departed before you heard another rush of water. When he came back, he took his spot on the floor and gently coaxed you into revealing your limbs. He then carefully took your hand and used a damp wash cloth to gently work away the grime. There was something soothing about his methodical process and he was just able to reveal your skin when the alarm went off. He took the rag with him and returned with two mugs.

He passed you yours and you cradled it. The scented steam wafted into your face and you basked in it. There was a dip as he sat beside you on the couch and after taking tiny sips, you eventually tipped to lean a head on his arm. For once you wished he was a little shorter so you could manage his shoulder and get his head on top of yours. You settled for the tea which warmed your insides. The feeling paired with the blanket built up a coziness that had your lids drooping. You were only scarcely aware when Donnie persuaded you to release your mug into his possession.

“What was that?”

“My own blend.” His voice traveled to the kitchen.

You had a dozen questions and at least one sarcastic remark to that but you landed on only a hum.

“It’s to help me sleep.” He seemed like he was was coming back, but bypassed the couch entirely.

You sort of wanted to follow him, but settled on peering over the back of the couch.

He quickly disappeared behind the partition and you heard a water being run from the bathroom. Pressures seemed to be adjusted before he came back and leaned against the dividing wall. “I prioritized a soothing herbal blend with antioxidants and anti-inflammatory properties along with my own flavor preferences.”

You gave a nod and wished you could translate how happy you were that he’d expanded on the topic all on his own.

It was still a fraction of how overjoyed you should have been.

He mulled something over before disappearing again.

The flow of water shifted and you imagined it must have come up to temp. The tub was presumably filling and you’d have to get to your feet soon. The thought of the how dark the water was daunted you and you didn’t sense when Donnie had returned to your side. You jumped at him with wide eyes and he seemed pain in contrast. He urged you to stand and you did so leaning heavily into him to instead focus on keeping the blanket up. He walked you over to the door of the bathroom before splitting away to stand in front of you.

You had an awareness of how sad your eyes looked as you watched him.

It was enforced as he seemed unable to hold your gaze. He silently reached out and pinched a little of the comforter’s fabric.

Knowing you needed to shed it, shame filled you from the toes up as you let the dirty thing fall to the floor.

Whatever he saw in your fully exposed frame he didn’t seem to like because he stopped. You watched one of his hands fist and realized the other wasn’t in view. Searching, you found it near his chest with scissors in hand. A chill ran up your spine and you hated the way you leaned away from the sight of the metal.

He seemed aware and moved them out of your sight before stepping close. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your head.

He gave you a nod before dropping his gaze.

You tried to close your eyes, but he stopped as soon as you did. Sensing he wouldn’t continue unless you watched him, you forced your lids up. A overflowing warmth was waiting for you and you took it with a slow blink. Finding the interaction assuring, he moved forward. You felt him pull your collar away from your neck before cutting it free. The scissors were especially sharp as they sliced though the fabric, but the sound was grating. He moved to snip the sleeve next and your throat burned as the fabric fell away. He then hooked a beltloop to avoid brushing your skin and this time the sound of the cut felt like it was ripping your ears open. You held out until the fabric could not and collapsed into him.

Pathetic.

You had never felt more pathetic in your life.

He held you for a moment before you were hoisted up. His hands seemed clear of the scissors and you were grateful for it. In a turn, he somehow discarded your socks and shoe. The bathtub was nearing a good fill point as you caught sight of it. He balanced you on a knee as he turned off the water. He then held you hand as you toed in. As expected, a dirty aura appeared as soon as your foot dipped down into the steaming embrace. You ignored it and tried to focus on the warmth instead. You were soon submerged and you watched as the water rose to a dangerous level. Donnie’s hand ducked into the water and you watched as a wobbly version of his arm fiddled with the stopper.

The loud gurgling of the measured drainage didn’t startle you, but brought with it a sort of clarity. Your eyes widened as you saw the water seep into his wraps. Following the appendage back to its host, you realized he was shirtless. From his knelt position, there was a pooling of black fabric around his hips. You identified it as some sort of jumpsuit that he had undone and let lie slack around his waist. You leaned a little over the lip of the tub and found his feet bare. You hadn’t gotten a close look at them yet and studied the two toes you could see.

His hand came up and he flicked the water away from it. “How’s that?”

As if caught doing something bad, you tucked back into yourself where you were holding your legs up to your chest. It meant only your head, shoulders, and knees broke the surface of the water. You gave a small nod and he reached behind him to grab something. He returned with a loofa that you knew to be regular sized, but looked mini under his large palms. He wet it before adding some soap. He then sudsed it up and delicately brought it to your shoulders all while checking with you. You gave another nod for him to continue and he began to carefully scrub at your skin.

“What happened?”

He seemed ready for the question and continued his task without missing a beat. “To say I made a mistake would be a grave understatement.”

You pressed your cheek to one of your knees to watch him.

He took up the new real estate this revealed on your back with a wary wash. “I made a series of mistakes that I can’t make up for.”

He slowed and you brought your head up. He shifted positions which allowed him to more comfortably clean your far shoulder.

“The first was the repugnant extremes I went to.” He stopped to rinse the loofa and renew the soap.

You offered him your arm.

“I didn’t stalk you. I terrorized you.” His snout crinkled. “Traumatized.”

You couldn’t disagree and glimpsed how murky the water was getting.

You had to look away from the darkness.

“When I caught you-”

You snapped your head to him.

“-my next error was that I hadn’t realize the extent of this.”

You opened your mouth and looked away as your breathing sped up.

“I relied on you to tell me the safe word. I saw the look in your eye. I noticed how you fought back, but I thought you’d-” He bit down on the sentence with a click of his teeth.

You crouched down until your mouth dipped below the water’s surface.

“I listened. I waited again and again for you to say it. You said so many other things. I even heeded the amount of syllables. Straining to hear if it even sounded close to ‘gargoyle;’ I was going to stop. I…” His voice teetered on shattering.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I should have stopped it then. I’m a fool.” The resolute desperation painted his depreciation in a foreboding light.

Having to come up for air, you forced it to stay even.

“I only realized that you had long lost the ability to speak it around the time that I grasped it wasn’t the only thing I’d lost.” His hand went limp and fell into the tub.

You peeked at him.

“I forced myself on you.” His teeth gnashed. He looked away before he returned with steeled features.

“It… was… you?”

“There is a laundry list of things that I will never be able to come back from, but this?” The hollow bite of his words only emphasized the sheen to his eyes.

“But it was you. Like actually you?” You shifted and the water in the tub sloshed angrily. “There wasn’t anyone else?”

He looked at you as if you were insane. “It was me.”

“Why didn’t it-?” The memories assaulted you and you went stiff under the weight of them. You forced yourself to sift and despite the many oddities, you placed Donnie’s image behind each of them. The pieces still didn’t quite fit, but they no longer looked as daunting. It raised a thousand more questions, but it solved the one that plagued you the most.

Tears welled up in your eyes.

You had to grab him.

You didn’t care that you were wet or the that your arm streaked with dirty water as you shot towards him. He caught you half out of tub in surprise and immediately shifted the balance so you were back in it. You were crying again and you tugged on his neck mercilessly.

“Y-Y/N!?” He had to submerge one of his arms to hold himself upright.

“It was you!”

“I don’t understand why that is something to commemorate.” His other arm dipped into the water and found your lower back. It arched you into him to bring your face away from his chest so he could examine you. “If anything it’s a conviction.”

You shook your head, little tears breaking free from your cheeks. “I thought…” You suddenly felt very stupid and shirked against it. “I thought… I was convinced someone else had…”

There was a loud thud that must have been his palm against the tub. You searched for it as the vibration shook your body before bringing your gaze back to his face. You found a burning rage barely offset there. “No one else is allowed to lay a single finger on you-” He seemed to remember himself and looked away with a hiss that you assumed was him blowing the steam away. “-without… your consent… of course.”

You softened and in doing so a new little horde of tears escaped. You tugged on his neck. “I was scared.”

He forced himself to look at you.

“Out of my mind, but I was more upset at the thought that someone else had-”

“It was me.” He clarified with that same angry edge.

You nodded a sort of smile bringing your cheeks up. “I’m glad.”

A deep frown etched itself into his face. “I would advise against that considering the circumstances.”

“If I had realized-” You grimaced as the humiliation of your failure started to take a formidable shape. “-I knew what was going to happen, but I still let myself get wrapped up in it. If I had just realized it was you, then it wouldn’t…shouldn’t have been so…”

“Y/N…”

You shoved past the reproach in his voice. “If we try again-”

“No. Never.” He hardened his gaze. “I will never subject you to that again.”

“But you-”

“-have lost complete interest in the concept. It repulses me now, in fact.”

Your lips pursed in a bare pout and he bumped his forehead against yours. You nuzzled your nose against his snout and he calmed incrementally.

There was little you could do with his mind made up.

“How did you-?” The way the streetlamps went out ghosted through your mind and you squeezed Donnie a little tighter. “-do that?”

“Can you shower?” He reached back and pulled your arm wreath out from over his head.

You paired your pout with a beginnings of a glare. “Donnie.”

His arms retracted from the bathwater and he toweled them off as he leaned back.

“Donatello.”

“We can discuss other matters once your clean.”

“I know enough that when you say it like that then you’re going to avoid the subject!”

“It would be…” He didn’t hesitate at the thought, but instead it seemed as if he didn’t have the vocabulary to voice it. “…impossible to elaborate on without explaining at least a hundred other principles first.”

You bobbed with a shock that he’d revealed that much.

“Which are also things that humans aren’t supposed to have knowledge of.”

Your lips parted.

He pointed up.

You traced his finger and realized he was emphasizing the shower head. “Yeah. I think I’ve got it.”

“I’m going to wait nearby. You can decide whether that’ll be in here or just outside the door.”

You ran a hand along the sludgy bottom of the tub until you found the stopper. “In here.”

You saw him nod in your periphery and he flipped the sink tap.

You pulled the stopper and that incessant gurgling started as the tub drained. You stood with a hand to the wall and found your limbs far less shaky than they had once been. Donnie then ushered you to the side as he fiddled with the shower knobs. It came to life with a flicker and he ran a hand under it before waving you under as he departed. The curtain clattered closed on its rungs and you stepped under the perfectly tempered spray.

“Are your wraps okay?”

“They’re not waterproof, but they won’t be damaged by it.”

You glimpsed a row of bottles at your new height and identified all your shower usual products. You rolled your eyes and grabbed the shampoo.

“I’ll change them in a moment.”

“Sure.” Working up a lather, you resisted the urge to peek. You instead focused on getting through the laborious process of getting clean. It took you at least two shampoos and so many passes with the loofa that it actually unraveled. You nearly laughed at the thing, but it had at least done its job before laying its life down in the line of duty. Rinsing one last time, you went for the knob. “I’m done!”

“Ready.”

Pulling the curtain back, you found him waiting with an outstretched towel strung between his arms. You tilted your head at him cutely before stepping towards him. He wrapped you up and pulled you close. You smiled up at him until he pulled away with the cotton securely fastened around you. He then draped another towel carefully over your head. “I think I can manage drying myself off.”

He gave a languid nod before taking a few steps back.

You were about to shoo him away when you caught that he had changed. He was still barefoot, but he had clearly washed up. He had new, dry wraps wound around his arms and neck. His chest was still bare, but a pair of black joggers sat lethally low on his hips. You squashed the indecent thoughts that came up considering the night you’d had. You could not be trusted so you scrubbed the towel over your face. When you were dry enough you padded out to find several options laid out for you on the bed. You picked a pair of underwear and reviewed a pair of pajamas. You vaguely remembered giving them to him under the original stipulations of the night. It felt like a lifetime ago. He’d also set out the t-shirt he’d once let you wear and you picked that.

Dressed, you glimpsed him at the kitchen sink and headed towards him. There was the faint scent of citrus in the air and you found the couch was clear from what surely should have been some kind of dirty fallout. You wondered when he’d had enough time to give the place what seemed to be a deep clean.

“Are you hungry?”

You shook your head and felt the pull of the bed. You gave up on joining him and retreated the distance back to it with a face plant. It was soft under your body and you quickly rolled over onto your back. Donnie appeared over head and crawled up beside to overlook you.

“Are you okay?” You reached for him.

He lowered himself to you. “That should be the least of your concerns.”

“I didn’t see any bruises.”

“Psychological trauma can be far more damaging.”

You cupped his cheek. “Sure, I’m probably gonna be recovering from this for awhile, but I don’t see you any differently.”

“Not only should that be impossible, but it is concerning you do not.”

“I knew what I signed up for.”

“You admitted you didn’t.” He frowned.

You desperately wanted to kiss it away, but he had a sort of resolve. You rose up in an attempt to meet him. He didn’t pull away, but turned his head. You pecked the corner of his lips.

“Y/N, I acknowledge I have made light of the dangers you’ve been in prior, but I need you to listen.”

You swiped your thumb over his cheek. “I hear you.”

“What happened tonight was egregious. It cannot be undone or mended.”

You thought about it before giving a small nod.

“It would be best if in the morning you-”

You pressed your thumb into his lips. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Y/N…”

“I don’t hear you walking away.”

You watched him fight to keep his gaze on you.

“It has to be me because you can’t bring yourself to be the one to do it, right?”

His features dropped and there was a desperate quality to his eyes.

“I’m choosing to stay. I’ve heard and seen how upset you are. You swore to me this wouldn’t happen again, remember?.”

He reached up to cover your hand with his own. You took note of the shake that was there.

“I’m in it.” You pulled him down and this time he came easily. “I’m in this with you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

With the first kiss you meant to seal your resolve.

The second you couldn’t account for as he chased you with an amount of adoration that neither of you were prepared for.

I love you.

You had the bury the revelation by kissing him a third time.

When you came away you almost said it aloud.

The grip you had on it was far too weak and you lay there with your mouth open in preparation to release it.

It was too soon.

You were still mixed up from the day.

There had been so many emotions.

You needed to wait to see if this one would stick.

“I can guarantee that tonight won’t happen again, but there are a thousand things I can’t prevent.”

He was also busy fighting his own battles.

He didn’t need anything on top of that.

“Then we’ll take them one at a time.”

He gave a frustrated huff and buried his face into the bedding beside your head. It brought his shoulder up to your face and you gave it a soothing rub.

He said something into the mattress you couldn’t hear.

You smiled and leaned your head against his.

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #weakspotfic

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princeescaluswords · 1 year

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One thing I love about the sciles dynamic is that Stiles is never afraid of Scott. Maybe in s1, when the werewolf thing was new, but not after. Stiles is 100% sure Scott won't hurt him and he's RIGHT

I once made a post here talking about Stiles's relationship with Peter Hale, only to realize, after I received your question, that I can make a similar statement about Stiles when it comes to Scott: Stiles's need for Scott is only exceeded by Stile's love for Scott and this fact remains unchanged throughout the seasons.

The most important person in Stile's life during the series, the one he would do anything for, is without question, his father. But the relationship between fathers and sons, particularly this one, has certain land mines, even at the start of the series, that Stiles and his dad have to navigate carefully around, mostly arising from the traumatic circumstances of Claudia. There are things they don't talk about and badly healed wounds, as the audience can tell by the scene in Co-Captain (1x10), Party Guessed (2x09), and The Girl Who Knew Too Much (3x09).

At the beginning of the show, that complexity didn't exist between Stiles and Scott. Stiles had no boundaries with Scott. He doesn't think twice about showing up in the middle of the night with an impulsive decision to go looking for a dead body in the woods, calling Scott a dumbass, mocking his dreams of being first line, all with perfect confidence that Scott not only wouldn't reject him but there is a very good chance, he'll follow right along.

For a person who endured the violent rejection of his own mother and her tragic death, a friendship seemingly without limitations is something to be treasured. It's something to be fought for. Please, as if something like the threat of bodily harm could deter Stiles from keeping the person he needs and loves safe. Derek scares him because he doesn't care about Derek; the danger Jackson finds himself in is "his own fault."

I know I've talked in negative terms about Stiles's demands on Scott in Heart Monitor (1x06) and going behind Scott's back in Formality (1x11) but those don't contradict this thesis. These actions may not be ethical -- in fact I'm absolutely sure they're not -- but they're designed to protect Scott, both physically and in terms of their relationship. Stiles wants and needs Scott whole but also unchanged, still the only person that Stiles can tease unmercifully or mess up badly with and yet still will ditch his girlfriend to come pick him up. That's why Stiles will insist that Scott do the right thing, no matter what, because that's part of who Scott is. Stiles will throw firebombs at serial killers and endure beatings from a geriatric sociopath in silence so Scott can remain Scott.

Every major relationship crisis between Scott and Stiles comes not from Scott disappointing Stiles but from the idea that Scott's new life and responsibilities will force Scott to stop valuing Stiles the way Stiles values Scott. That's the message behind "You still got me" in Master Plan (2x12): Stiles is stating that no matter how much this werewolf crap changes Scott, he doesn't have to worry about this -- about them. The fear and loss in Stiles's eyes during The Overlooked (3x10) isn't about Scott betraying him but about the realization that the forces of darkness may have finally changed Scott into someone who doesn't need him the way Stiles needs him. The nogitsune torments Stiles in Letharia Vulpina (3x19) by presenting a perverted image of their friendship -- the fox in Stiles's body manipulates Scott into doing the right thing (taking pain) torments Scott (with the ninja-to) and then takes what he needs from the relationship. Stiles puts himself in Eichen House rather than allow himself to hurt Scott that way again in Echo House (3x20) and hides his own pain in The Divine Move (3x21). He'd rather die than let the nogitsune get between them.

Season 5A, of course, is Stiles's greatest fear made real -- that he will go too far, that his own nature will end up destroying this love he values so much and that this friendship that he needs to cope with his life will be gone. There's a reason for that scene with the Jeep in the rain. Stiles could never possibly fear Scott's claws and fangs; the only thing that could make Stiles break down is Scott's indifference.

That's why, in both Motel California (3x06) and Riders of the Storm (6x10) Stiles's ultimate words are always "I need you." For Stiles, Scott could never hurt him as long as he's there.

#scott mccall #stiles stilinski #sciles #teen wolf meta

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qqueenofhades · 2 years

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do you think the odds are in the dems’ favor to keep the house and the senate? i worry both houses are gonna flip red bc of all the focus on immigration and inflation right now…

It depends. There has been focus on both immigration and inflation, yes, but that's not the full story. The immigration narrative took a bit of a turn after DeSatan shipped a planeload of migrants to Martha's Vineyard and they're now (rightly) suing the shit out of him for kidnapping and human trafficking, and it's not really a major talking point at the moment outside of Fox News and the other bastions of right-wing drum-pounding that always discover a Big Scary Caravan of Brown People!! heading for America right when they need to distract from something terrible that the Republicans did. Inflation, although still high, is coming down, and gas prices are WAY down (over $2+) from their stratospheric May-June highs.

Additionally, this is in no way a regular midterm year (where we could expect significant losses for the incumbent president's party). There was that little thing where an illegitimate right-wing SCOTUS overturned women's basic bodily autonomy, and all the actual elections we have had since, including in deeply or traditionally red districts, have showed Democrats WAY overperforming, including topping Biden's margins vs. Trump in 2020. This is not a foolproof indicator, but it has been consistent, and it shows that there is absolutely a lot of rage (as there should be) over the Roe decision. Pro-choice people, and even people who are traditionally moderate/more conservative but are among the 60%+ of Americans who support abortion rights (I don't know why that number isn't higher, but then, this country is often a theocratic libertarian nightmare, so.... yeah), are strikingly more likely to vote for Democrats. The Republicans tried for 50 years to overturn Roe, and now they're trying to backpedal, minimize, or equivocate it, rather than proudly running on it as a campaign strategy. If it really was so popular, you think they would? But even blood-red Kansas voted overwhelmingly to keep abortion legal, so they're trying to spin it both ways.

This isn't to say that there aren't significant headwinds and steep odds, because there are. The crazies are motivated to vote to avenge the disgrace of their God-King Trump, the fascists smell power after they were beaten last time, and if Democratic voters don't get to the polls in equal or greater numbers, we're going to be in a very bad spot. I said this in 2016 and I said this in 2020, and I'm saying it again now: I do not care if you think you are as morally pure as the driven snow and there is no way you could ever sully yourself to vote for a flawed human institution like the Democratic Party. You still have to do it. There is no safe Republican or non-Democratic candidate to vote for in the 2022 midterms. Nor can you act as if you personally are exempt from the project of staving off full-on theocratic fascism for the rest of us, or that you will somehow magically escape the consequences of its imposition. I will not hear or tolerate any stupid arguments on this. If you are one of the people who reflexively whines BUT BIDEN/THE DEMOCRATS HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING, or BOTH PARTIES ARE THE SAME!!!, I beg, BEG you to get out of the leftist social media misinformation chamber and find out what, in fact, they HAVE done (and what the other guys want to do). If the only political opinions you're hearing or ever seek out are those that already reinforce your profoundly skewed VOTING IS BAD AND I AM PERFECT conviction, there is something very, very wrong.

Doing morally good politics is not, as the Tumblr leftists like to think, a matter of opening a book, selecting all the most Morally Pure positions on paper, and immediately discarding any person who doesn't fully embody all of them (i.e. everyone). It is making the most moral choice that prevents the most harm, and right now, the Republicans are off-the-ranch crazy and harmful. If they get the House back, they have promised to spend all their time on trying to send Dr. Fauci to jail, impeaching Biden and Garland, "avenging" Trump, passing a national abortion ban, and other nonsense revenge-driven fascist cosplay. I'm not making this up, they have said it very clearly and repeatedly. There will be absolutely no progress on further legislation (including the Electoral Count Act which is meant to prevent further coups of the type that we saw on January 6, among others). They don't even care that any of this is unlikely to actually succeed. They will rip apart the country, sow division and hate, and put on revenge-spectacle nonsense all the way to 2024. They won't even try to solve any of the problems that matter to anyone, and they will make them all worse.

I think the odds are currently better for Democrats to hold the Senate, as they have to defend a relatively few number of seats while there are more GOP seats up for grabs, and the Republicans are running such an utterly terrible crop of losers that what works for the loonies in the primary is having trouble appealing to the general electorate. The House is more of a tossup and will rely on turnout in individual states. And on that note: if you are an American citizen over the age of 18, check your registration. Check it now. If you live in a state where the Republicans have rammed through restrictive voting laws, make sure you know what those are, so you aren't disqualified on a technicality. If you are registered in a state other than the one where you currently live, update your registration or make arrangements to receive an absentee ballot. Know when you need to return it for it to be counted. DO IT NOW. THE MIDTERMS ARE BARELY MORE THAN A MONTH AWAY.

Thank.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #public service announcements by me

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seldomscilence16 · 7 months

Text

Whumptober Day 3:

"Like crying out in empty rooms, with no one there except the moon."

Journal | solitary confinement | "make it stop."

Fandom: Voltron

Prompt used: All

Soooo this ones a little intense- at least to me as I write this. Its never specified but Lance is alone for awhile, so tread carefully just in case. I think I may do a continuation on one of the other days for this one so keep a look out if you like this one.

TW for self harm, and Torture

...

There was little light in the room. He'd tried to figure out where it was coming from, scratched at the lips in the walls until his nails were broken and bleeding. He'd decided they simply glowed.

There was no window, and the door disapeared- no it blended in, it had to be there still it had to, it could just be gone that made no sense- after that first day. That first day when he'd woken up, confused and in pain, and had a strange alien come in and speak to him. He couldnt tell you everything they said, broken translator glitching every couple words or other sentence. But it was an experiment, and a punishment.

Lance wanted to go home.

"Journal entry uh… whatever. The water and bread like stuff appeared when I passed out again, I dont remember falling asleep… It tastes weird, but they got angry when I didnt consume it before… the walls are still glowing… or maybe it is dark and Im going crazy… how many days has it been journal? Why… what did I… its not like your gonna answer anyway…"

His head hits the wall with a solid thump, the sound better than when all he can hear is bodily functions, so he does it again. And again, until his ears ring and his head aches, and the noise has blended in too much to be different and he stops. His heart and head beat to the same toon, he holds his breath to stop hearing the inflation of his lungs only for the beating to get louder. Frustrated tears come to his eyes as he releases the breath in a shout, which turns into an angry yell as he turns and pounds his tender fists into the wall.

Its not the first time, there are smears of blood- old and new- from his many little moments. He thinks hes allowed such moments after all, locked up for who knows how long with no interaction. He cant even talk to Blue, the thin connection in his soul the only thing telling him shes okay. In the beginning, he equated his moments to Keith, when he went ham on the training gladiatiors. But now… staring at his ruined fists, and wall still intact besides the smears, he feels as pathetic as ever.

He knows for a fact the rest of the team would have found a way out by now. Pidge's curiousity and spite always leads her to solutions of some kind. Hunk would have found out how this box worked and rebuilt it ten times over. Keith would have samuraied his way out of course, and Shiro would probably find this childs play. But really the main difference… is they arent him. Lance did something wrong. Lance was stupid and weak and easily caught. Lance hasnt been able to find a way out. Lance- is referring to himself in third person. Again.

He deserves to be here. The team hasnt found him yet, blue is out of range, and Lance is being punished for something. He wouldnt want any of them in his situation anyway, theyre probably off saving the universe still, probably relieved hes gone. He… he hopes theyre getting enough sleep. That Pidge isnt stuck with her face in a screen, refusing to sleep. That Hunk isnt spreading himself thin, and bottling things up. That Allura is recharging her quintessence, and taking care of herself and not pushing too hard on her own mind and the teams. That Coran isnt lonely and doing everything by himself. That Shiro is remembering to laugh and relax and chill. That Keith isnt isolating himself and training to death and…

He misses them.

Lance thought that… even if he never saw Earth again, never saw his parents again, thatd at least, the last thing he saw would be his friends- his space family- safe and alive. Not some creepy alien, or the four same walls, but the people he cares about. He knows… he knows he wasnt their first choice. That Blue deserves better, the team deserves better. But… he still loves them so much. He just wanted to know they were okay.

A stinging sensation disrupts the static ache hes fallen into, his motions drag like paper through water and he looks down at his arms. His nails, brittle and broken and cracked, have still managed to drag angry red lines across his arms. Blood and that watery fluid have bubbled to the surface in some areas, and he feels a detached sort of dissapointment. His nose whistles.

The not bread and the ucky water have appeared again. Hes on his side, he doesnt remember falling asleep, from how tired he feels, hes not even sure he can call it that. He knows they get mad when he ignores the susstenance, but he can only stare at it blankly. What was the point anyway? If he was just gonna keep waking up here, he didnt want to anymore.

He thinks he counts for moment, to determine how long it takes them to get mad, but when he tunes back in to his own brain hes simply repeated the same line of lyrics over and over. He cant recall the song, or any other lyrics, and all its really doing is annoying him, but he cant find the energy to yell at his brain to stop.

'One. I can count to one. Two. I can count to two. Three. I can count to three. Four. I cant count no more. I can only count to four, I can only count to four, I can only count fooouuuurrrr-'

The room brightens and Lance tenses as a noise fills the room. But the noise was always there, a ringing in his ears, but it grows louder and higher until everything is screaming. He hold his hands over his ears, finds a warm wetness with undertones of crusty, his mouth is open his throat feels shredded, hes curled up as much as his ribs will allow- they poke out, he can see where theyre wrong, they warp as the noise increases. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, tears streak his face, he cant see anything, theres red in his blurred vision before it whites out completely, a warmth below his nose. Shivers wrack his tense body as the cold he'd been trying to ignore sets in bone deep.

"P'ease…m…m-make it… st…stop…"

He doesnt know when he went limp, eyes open but seeing nothing, the ringing is everywhere, the feeling of liquid drying on his skin makes him itch, but he cant even twitch.

"M'ke it st…stop. Make eh stop… make it stop." A sob from deep in his chest, voice hoarse, everything hurts. "Make it stop please."

He couldnt even tell you if he'd actually spoken, or if wordless noise escaped a ruined throat. The pounding of his heart, the ringing of his ears, nothing seemed to exist past that.

Warmth on his cheek, he must be crying again…

Pressure on his back, his shoulder thanks him for rolling over, he cant recall doing it.

Something touches his neck.

He flinches violently, surprising himself and whoevers touching him. He throws his arms up, his back now against the stupidly familiar walls.

"Make it stop! I dont want to anymore! Just kill me already, Make it stopmakeitstopmaKEITSTOP!!"

Something rumbles in his mind, loud enough to block all the stupid noises, filled instead with crashing waves and warm sand, foreign yet familair.

"Lance." He flinches, he can only half hear what was said, head in a fishbowl of water and one ear clogged, but it was definetly his name…

"Leandro, please look at me hermano."

Tears bubble in his eyes as he realizes what this is.

Hes lost it completely.

Hes halucinating now. Maybe it really is finally the end-

"Lance please." It sounds so broken, she should never sound like that-

He looks up.

The door. It did exist, lying in sparking pieces as it is. Shiro is in the doorway, face drawn in concern, galra arm still smoking from whatever he used it for. Behind him Keith is glaring down his sword at something Lance cant see. Infront of him however, curled up in the too small room, knees an inch from his own, back bowed so his head wont hit the ceiling, arm brushing the smaller one next to him. Two sets of warm eyes, wet with tears and dark with bags, look at him with mournful sadness and yet, tentative hope, relief.

The tears spill over, his lips wobble as he sobs,

"Make it stop please. I cant handle it if youre not really here. Please."

"We're here buddy. Hermano, we're here. Give me your hand Lance, I promise we're real." Hunks voice wavers with emotion, Lance knows he's seconds from breaking down.

"We're late, but we're here Lance. Please." Pidges voice is small, hand held out beside Hunks, both tremble.

Lance is going to regret it. He is. He's gonna regret it.

His hands- cold, achey, maybe broken, filthy- meet the warm calloused palms of his friends. He slumps forward like his string have been cut, but the two dutifully catch him. Warmth. Not from blood or tears, but from real people. Lances eyes slipped closed, feeling safe for a moment, if he wakes up alone… at least he got to see their faces one last time…

>>next

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madhare0512 · 2 years

Text

headcanons for the ultimate spiderman:

(spoilers for and revolving around seasons 1 and 2)

- this universe's spiderman is actually a mutant. or partly one anyway. the spider that bit him would've only given him the spider-sense and heightened senses, but Peter is a dormant mutant, so he got a few more traits than he was supposed to.

- the team had a list of things Danny Rand has not seen, read, or experiences. this list includes: Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Star Trek, Home Alone, any Disney movie, among multiple others. this list is also to be completed before Danny finishes out the alloted year

- the team has a relationship most would consider romantic, but the truth of it is, if you're going into life-or-death situations with someone on a weekly/daily basis, you're gonna get close. the team has little to no concept of personal space, their jokes to each other are met with fond exasperation, and while they tease and fight and bicker, they love each other and will do anything for each other

- Luke and Danny have kissed AT LEAST once

- Peter has kissed Sam, Ava, and Danny. Sam was a dare after a battle gone wrong when they where all hopped on sedatives and painkillers. Ava was an accident, he was running high on adrenaline and relief after a battle in which she almost didn't make it out. Danny is his best friend and boyfriend and Peter fucking LOVES him

- MJ and Harry both love Peter dearly but he kind of bails on them at a moments notice, so while they'll happily hang out with him, they don't expect much time from him anymore. they still plan with him and help him out and will drop everything if he needs them

- Danny and Peter's personal training sessions? that's just a them thing, it's entirely private. Danny doesn't offer those lessons freely and he declines if anyone asks. Peter is the only one who's gotten those lessons. no one could tell why

- if Peter is out on patrol past one am, the team has full license to drag him back home

- (inspired by a fic on FF by Stormy1x2) the team has a patrol schedule implemented when Danny, Luke, Ava, and Sam saw just how much Peter's pushing himself to keep people safe

- Peter does NOT patrol Hell's Kitchen and if he sees a man in white Egyptian-style armor/a white cloak/a full white suit, he does not approach and he doesn't worry about it. the Knight guy and Daredevil don't like being interrupted. Peter does maintain a healthy working relationship with both of them though

- the team may or may not have a sort of open relationship? Danny and Peter are the only ones confirmed to be in a romantic relationship

- Sam likes head scritches

- Ava can, in fact, purr and has other cat-like attributes away from the amulet

- Luke's and Ava's biggest fears are failure, presented differently

- Danny's and Peter's biggest fears are that they'll prove themselves unworthy of the responsibilities and duties they've taken on

- despite Danny seeming the type and Sam having the attitude, Luke's the one with the expensive and LONG morning routine that includes shower, hair care, skin care, etcetera

- if Ava threatens to go to Coulson about assigning more homework ONE MORE TIME the boys are not responsible for bodily harm

- training nights are split on who runs them, but the team does get very serious about it. they're all training in their own ways, showing each other what works for them, but they're serious about it

- Danny does yoga, Sam and Ava will sometimes join him

- two people will patrol at night, this tradition started back before the Hellicarrier went down and continues even after its back up

- Danny and Luke have two friends outside of the team, Matt and Jess. Matt is blind and Jess used to be in a gang

~~~

more to come if I find them again

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nonpracticinghumanbeing · 2 years

Text

TW: physical assault, non-consensual violence and permanent bodily harm, sadomasochism

(Oookay, here we go. This was inspired by some very lovely comments by @dylanndr and later by a take @andreabezj as well as a discussion about the toe scene I had on Facebook.)

I wrote a lot about the toe scene (here) and I’m sure everyone knows how I feel about it. What I feel needs adding as it’s also very important, is a discussion of the larger context of the scene. In all of the scenes that come after we can see that Izzy is completely different than he was before. He seems much more alive and a lot lot LOT HAPPIER (to the extent he’s capable of happiness) than we’ve ever seen him prior to this point. This is such a clear proof of just how much Edward doing it to him - and FOR HIM - meant to Izzy. He was not only seen for who he really is, but was also shown understanding and respect for something that is a core aspect of his identity. Edward has shown him that he accepts him just the way he is, and that he is willing to give him what he needs to feel good and safe. And for someone who’s clearly doing everything he can to suppress his sexuality that must have felt even more validating.

That’s not to say that Edward doing it was in any way a good thing when we consider the larger context of the whole story. I really don’t want my having a meltdown over how hot and lovely I find that scene to be misconstrued as a romanticization of abusive relationships. Because Edward and Izzy’s relationship IS mutually abusive, which no sane person would be able to deny. Yes, Ed gives Izzy exactly what he needs and makes him seen and respected, but as it was wonderfully worded by someone of Facebook, it reinforces Izzy’s belief that abuse (’cause let’s remember it was non-consensual, so it can’t be called anything other than abuse) equals care and thus it probably does more harm than good long-term.

The thing is that their whole relationship is like some goddamn Greek tragedy where neither of them really can do anything other than what they end up doing. They are both prisoners of both other people's expectations and their own self-image. It's heartbreaking and extremely unhealthy, but I honestly can't imagine them going any other way about it.

Izzy has built his whole identity around not just being a pirate, but being Blackbeard's first mate. Unlike Edward, he does know what retirement is, but he can't see it as a viable option for either of them. He's obviously increasingly distressed by Ed's relationship with Stede, but willing to suffer it as long as he has even a glimmer of hope that Blackbeard - the dreaded pirate capable of killing Stede - is in there. As soon as he realizes it's not going to happen, he immediately takes things into his own hands and challenges Stede to a duel. When he loses and Ed makes him stick to the rules and leave the Revenge - which obviously breaks Izzy’s heart - his response is to make a deal with Badminton in a desperate attempt to get Blackbeard back, even though it's the last thing Edward wants or needs.

Of course in Izzy’s mind it's all justified because he tells himself that he's saving his captain from himself and the certain doom that would come if he continued with Stede. What he is incapable of admitting - even to himself - is that he is doing it for himself because he can't probably even imagine a world where he is anything other than Blackbeard's first mate. For whatever reason he desperately needs to keep that reality alive, so when Ed makes a comment about why are we even being pirates, Izzy gets terrified because his whole world is in peril. So of course he has to push Edward into his old lifestyle, and it doesn't matter that in doing so he hurts Ed, the only person he supposedly cares about.

As for Edward, he has one goal here and it’s to make Izzy stay - he’s already lost both Jack and Stede and Izzy is his only real connection at this point. For all his mood swings and excitability, Ed is actually quite good at reading people and giving them what they want. He does that with the aristocrats at the fancy party and is able to entertain them for quite some time (yes, they are othering him the whole time because of his race and treating him like a circus act and not like a person, but he does give them what they want). He does it with Calico Jack, to such an extent that Stede actually calls him out on that. And he does it with Izzy as well. As I already wrote in the previous piece, after Izzy gets visibly excited at being choked, Edward obviously realizes hurting him is the one sure way to make him stay.

This does not at all mean that it’s a good or healthy choice. For all my getting soft and having a total meltdown over how beautiful the toe scene is, I will never claim it was anything other than abusive. It’s just that I don’t see any other option for Ed here. Should he have talked with Izzy about it? In a healthy relationship that would be the proper course of action, but at this point Izzy is already so disgusted by Edward becoming whatever it is that he’s become that any attempt at having a conversation would be an invitation to a new betrayal on Izzy’s part. Not to mention that Izzy is obviously incapable of admitting it even to himself that it’s something he needs, let alone anyone else.

The healthiest choice for Ed would be to get rid of Izzy altogether, as their relationship is mutually abusive and they continue to bring out the worst in each other. But that would be very problematic as well, even if Izzy wasn’t the only real connection Edward had left. Because realistically speaking, what could Edward have done here? Make Izzy leave? That would most certainly end up with Izzy coming up with yet another scheme to get Blackbeard back. Kill him? I honestly don’t think Ed could bring himself to do that, even with all the rage of the Kraken, because in his own fucked up way he really cares about Izzy. I’m not defending Edward’s decision to do what he did here - because like I said before it only serves to reinforce a harmful belief system for someone who already clearly equates abuse with care - but I REALLY can’t see any better option for him here.

This is what breaks my heart the most about Izzy. (I’ve already written about what he means to me as someone who shares his masochistic tendencies here.) For whatever reason - I’d LOVE to know his backstory - he’s unable to admit that he craves submission, as he believes that would make him less of a man. He desperately needs it but is incapable of asking for it. So the only way for him to have his needs fulfilled is by goading someone into doing the thing he needs. There is a horrible problem with communication here and if Ed didn’t do what he ended up doing - which I will never call anything other than abusive - the situation would have probably escalated even further and ended in an even greater tragedy.

Putting it in BDSM terms, Izzy not only wants to be in a 24/7 s&m relationship, he also doesn’t believe in safewords or hard limits or negotiation. He needs things to be done to him without his consent. I can’t stress enough how unhealthy this is. There ARE people who are into extreme forms of s&m play. There ARE people who have abduction fantasies or rape fantasies, or want to be 24/7 slaves. But even that - or ESPECIALLY that - requires negotiation beforehand. There is such a thing as consensual non-consent, but it has to be carefully discussed before any action is taken. And it takes a lot of trust for a submissive to be willing to do that, and a very strong dominant - who knows both themselves and their sub well enough to be sure they won’t cause any ACTUAL harm - to agree to that.

Izzy is incapable of discussing his needs, the best he can do is give Edward non-verbal clues that this is something he needs. He’s obviously meant to serve as a metaphor for toxic masculinity in the show. So of course admitting that he wants and needs to submit to another man would be unthinkable to him. Because in his book any man willingly submitting to another is an abomination. We can see it in the way he acts when he thinks Edward was a bottom for Stede in the fencing lesson scene. It’s not just about him thinking they had sex, I think he might have accepted that - like he accepted Ed being involved with Calico Jack - if he didn’t feel the natural order of things was disturbed here by Stede topping Ed.

Which brings me to the SECOND issue with Izzy. It’s not only that he believes he deserves any and all punishment that Edward decides to dole out to him and that he craves non-consensual violence. He also needs Edward to be the perfect dom 100% of the time, because otherwise he can neither respect nor trust him. That's actually quite common among submissives; I've seen it discussed time and time again in pretty much every single place kinksters exchange their views and experiences. Many subs - usually those who are inexperienced and just getting into s&m, but that's not a rule - see doms as a kind of larger-than-life creatures who are always at the top of their game and never fail or make mistakes. It's a technique to protect one's ego and self-worth, 'cause submitting to such a person is a whole lot easier than doing it with someone who might not be 100% perfect. Only perfect people don't exist and such an approach is VERY damaging to doms finding themselves in a relationship with a sub who thinks like this.

So Edward suddenly and unexpectedly finds himself in a situation where he's not only pressed for time - with the threat of Izzy either leaving or betraying him again becoming more real by the minute - but also needs to perform up to Izzy’s insane standard of what the perfect dom should be. He basically has his back against the wall here as Izzy leaves him little choice other than to resort to horrible non-consensual violence. Now, I refuse to fall into the trap so many in the fandom seem to enjoy falling into and play the devil’s advocate here or do victim blaming and say that Edward had the right to do what he did. It was his choice to cross the boundaries and assault Izzy when he was the most vulnerable - it’s so important that he goes to Izzy’s cabin when he’s asleep and almost naked, something that we’ve never seen before and something that is a complete opposite of how he is usually presented. It IS absolutely horrific. But I still say it’s also what Izzy needed and I know I’m not alone in feeling this way.

That’s what I adore about this show. The way it’s written is just so complex. They are both terrible abusive men who shouldn’t be allowed to be around each other at all. And yet in a way - a horrible, abusive, toxic way - they also care about each other. Was Edward WAY out of line to perform such a horrible act of non-consensual violence? YES. Was it what Izzy needed to feel safe around his captain again? Also YES. Will it do even more harm to Izzy in the future as it makes him believe that by abusing him Edward shows him that he cares? YES for the third time. I know kinksters in the fandom generally enjoyed the way both Izzy as a character and the toe scene in particular are written. My hope is that it’s properly addressed in the second season, because it really needs some resolution.

#Our Flag Means Death #OUR FLAG MEANS GAY #ofmd meta #izzy hands #blackbeard #just kill me please #this show literally gives me ALL the feelings all the time

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thegodthief · 1 year

Text

Dreamt of choking on the snake again but also visiting a dollmaker. They made little bound yarn poppets to put in your pocket and three-feet tall ceramic jointed bodies sized for children's clothes and a seven-foot tall nutcracker and dolls to play with and dolls to look at and dolls to keep tucked away in that one corner that no one feels comfortable sitting there for long.

They had me sit in a side room that gave me full view of the public store without being seen by whomever is in that room. I wasn't sure why I was there, but they knew and shushed me with the most mischievous look in their one good eye.

(Before you give me grief about the Read More, please note that this entire post, minus this one aside, is 5,546 words.)

I watched children come in with their birthday money to get the doll they always wanted. Their mothers were always disapproving of the choices at first, until the dollmaker spoke up about the one-of-a-kind nature of the doll and how no one else on the street will have a doll like this one and how rugged it is to withstand handling but will look neat enough to display when that one nosy woman comes over and realizes that she will never have a doll like this one and suddenly the mothers are very happy to purchase the doll.

But the dollmaker won't take the money from the adults, only from the children. And the children are always very happy to pay for their doll like how their mums pay for things and they never notice the money being back slipped into a pocket on the dolls' coat while the dollmaker winks at their mum to keep them silent.

"Such joy cannot be bought. They will be adult enough in time, let them remain children while it is safe for them to be."

I watched doll collectors come in, furious and ranting, wanting only to accost the dollmaker and perhaps do him bodily harm because they were promised that he would never make another doll with this particular face and just the other day they saw three of them in another shop with the same expressions and dimples after showing the exclusive doll to their friends and they paid good money for exclusivity and he is going to not only pay them their money back but create a new doll for them on the spot with these very specific set of features and when the cast is complete, he is going to hand over the mold so no one else can have this doll!

But the dollmaker just smiles softly and nods as they listen to the complaints and when the collector has run out of breath, the dollmaker asks, "Does it always hurt when you realize you are not the only one who dreams? Do you demand an accounting from God when twins are born? Does it fill you with ire that other people on the street dare to walk with one foot in front of the other as you do? Or have you considered that there are only so many ways to assemble a face and sometimes two people can come up with the same idea at the same time in different rooms?"

Furious enough to devour the sun, they take a breath to begin to bluster anew but the dollmaker holds up a finger and they choke like a smothered furnace.

"I will never make a doll face with those features in that substance again. I keep records of what I have done so it will never be done again. To whom have you shown your personal treasures? To whom have you revealed what I told you to keep private and bragged to them that they will never have the same? If it can be seen, it can be copied, and the quickest way to achieve something is to be denied it. Never again will I sell you a doll as you have broken our agreement. You wanted a doll that no one else had seen before or again. You wanted a doll that you would keep in private, away from the eyes of the covetous. You wanted to look upon a face that would make you forget your own, and I did so, but by your own admission, you shared it with others and now others have the comfort that could have been yours. You created the darkness that I leave you in."

The dollmaker closes his book and walks away from the counter into another room. The former patron, now suddenly recovered from their fit, stands in a darkening room. They look around at the dolls on the shelves and I watch silently as fear and shadows creep up to cling at their face. They threw one last obscenity at the dollmaker before fleeing the shop.

"Here." The dollmaker surprises me as they place the tea tray on the table just out of reach at first. They wait for me to resettle myself before moving the tray forward with a smirk. "My apologies that you had to suffer such a sour presence. Please, have some tea and bread that you may remember a better time instead."

They look up at me with one clear and sharply dark eye and one clouded and menacing dull eye but with such a gentle expression, I could fall asleep sitting up in their presence.

The showroom brightened again. The front door had opened and another patron was looking at the shelves with curiosity. In the time it took me to glance at the showroom and back, the dollmaker had left my presence and entered the showroom from the other side.

And so it went with the day. Some came to pick up custom orders. Some came to place custom orders. Some wanted a doll to remind them of a family member recently passed. Some wanted a doll to remind them of a character from a book. Some wanted a doll for comfort. Some wanted a doll for intimidation. All wanted something, but not all left with something in hand. Not all who left empty handed were sad about it, and not all who left with a doll were happy about it.

Throughout the day, the dollmaker served me lunch, and then later a light dinner. They thanked me for staying so long, as they were the one who had extended an invitation to me earlier and they were waiting for the reason for the invitation to arrive. There was someone who wanted to meet with me, but in a place that was neutral and mutually safe.

"So, what did you think of those that came to me? Was I right to refuse some and indulge others?"

"I think that you are the master of your shop, and that I have no right to judge how you conduct yourself here. I will take the risk of saying that I watched you uphold the Law of Hospitality to each and every one, so that I can find no fault in how you interacted with each one. I reserve the right to complain about some of your less hospitable visitors at a later date!"

The dollmaker laughed with me before speaking. There was mirth in their voice but none on their face. "And what did you think of the dolls? I know you see."

I took another sip of my suddenly full teacup before speaking. "Well. I saw that each doll that left the shop was a match to the person taking it. The dolls you gave to the children will protect them for a while, at least until the children learn to protect themselves. And the dolls you gave to collectors fit each collector's need. And the dolls that were bought as trinkets are merely trinkets. And the dolls that were special ordered were made to fit that order, some empty, some not. I am not a dollmaker, so I cannot speak to the technical aspects of your work. As a third-party observer, I would say that you have acted honorable and justly with everyone you have contracted with, and even with those that you did not."

They laughed and their mirth spread warmly over their face. "A neutral answer! You spoke no opinion, but merely reflected the facts of the day. Well done! To take offense at your words would be to take offense at a mirror for being clean. Not that I have any reason to take offense to you at all. You have behaved yourself admirably. Very well, then. You have passed my test, and I consent to permitting the meeting to continue."

"Meeting?", I asked as the dollmaker stood up and entered the showroom. As they passed the front windows, they closed the heavy curtains so that from the street, only the object in the windows were visible. The front door was locked and the door's curtain drawn as well. Step by step, the showroom lights were extinguished until the only light that fell into the front room was blocked by the dollmaker stepping into the sideroom with me and closing the door.

The lights in the sideroom brightened considerably and I realized there were benches lining the room that I had been ignorant to this entire time. A jury of child-sized dolls sat on these benches. All of them were turned to face me, if not by body posture then by head tilt. While many of them were dressed according to customs not familiar to me, I realized that none of them were dressed as children.

The dollmaker brought a third chair from somewhere and placed it beside the end of a bench. They moved the second chair already at the table to a position opposite of mine and placed a thick cushion there. When I made to stand up and reposition my chair, they commanded me to sit back down with a soft wave.

"Madam?" I looked up at their request and realized they had not addressed me. I followed their gaze to the dolls seated in the far corner of the sideroom. Indifferent to my movement, the dollmaker continued. "Madam, the chair is placed. If you need assistance, I would be glad to provide it."

A head turned in that far corner. Slowly. Subtly. I would not have caught the motion except for the falling lock of hair that was displaced by the gesture. Eyes of black glass set in milk-white porcelain stared at me. In the stillness that followed, I recognized the importance of the faint lines that crossed the ecru glazed face from which those eyes regarded. This doll had been repaired and I felt a flush of embarrassment from recognizing that.

"Ah, forgive me for staring, Madam!" I turned my gaze away towards the dollmaker, who was very amused by my gesture. Realizing that I was trading staring at one person for another, I chose to inspect my tea cup with great deliberation.

As I studied the tea cup, I heard the sound of cloth sliding against wood, followed by delicate yet rough steps approaching the table. A clink as something free-hanging tapped against something else free-hanging, and then the sound of cloth moving being muffled by the second chair being brought closer to the table.

"You are forgiven, Child. Thank you for recognizing that I did not wish to be studied as I moved. You may look up now."

The voice was from a grand dame, old in years and generations, with a steady timbre developed from decades of commanding her household and affairs. As I settled into its fading echo, I complied with her command (as it was definitely a command) and looked up to see a doll seated in the chair across from me. The cushion gave height to the doll so that their waist was level with the tabletop and we could see each other without bending up or down.

The doll was dressed in a costume of nobility, but I did not recognize the era or the location. Long locks of black hair curled around the face and shoulders, more than could be contained in the decorative gold and silver clasps and bindings on the head. Now closer to the table lamp, I could see the repair in her face and hands. I tried not to notice them.

"Cracks and wrinkles. They happen to all bodies, regardless what they are made from. It is not cruel to acknowledge that time passes, to declare that we are still here in spite of it. You can guess what happened to create this damage, however I will not speak on it. I will declare, that I am indebted to our host for their exceptional skill in repair."

Her head turned towards the dollmaker who had seated themselves where she had been before. I turned my head as well and noted that we both nodded in admiration at the dollmaker, who was suddenly fussy about everything immediately around them in return.

When her head moved back to face me, it was everything in me not to turn towards the motion as human instinct demanded. Instead, I looked past her to the sideroom door or to the table lamp which kept changing appearance every time I looked away and back at it. Finally, I found a way to keep my face turned towards her so not to be rude, but to look just enough away that I was not staring at her directly, and thus grant her visual space.

"You called this meeting, Madam? To what do I owe this honor?"

"So formal, Child. This is not what I expected from you. I shall answer your question with mine own: Why do you take on a face that isn't yours?"

I grinned, almost too much it felt like. The action did make my face feel like it was about to slip off and reveal something ugly from underneath. "Well, I have had to be political at my day job, and I have learned very quickly in the Dreaming that it is never safe to assume a personal familiarity with anyone until that familiarity is earned. And the dollmaker here has one good eye and one not-so-good eye and that's the hallmark of someone else that it is imperative that I remain on good terms with. I never know who is connected to whom in these realms, so it is better that I wear the face of the Diplomat until it is necessary to wear another face, or if required, weapons, in its stead."

The dame chuckled. I watched the echo of her hand moving to politely cover her face as she did so. "Oh, you have such manners when you feel it necessary. But I had been informed that you are rude enough to challenge gods. At first I thought that our host had brought the wrong person here after watching you so politely and demurely sit in silence all day, but I hear the softly cloaked threat in your sweet answer, and I am at ease."

Her hand lowered to the table as she resumed her posture of nobility. "Do you have dolls? In your, how would you call it, in your Waking world?"

I thought of the items in my care. "Well..." A small crisis of taxonomy overtook me as I struggled to understand what she meant. "I have many things at hand. I have statues of wood, porcelain, and clay. I have poppets of yarn, string, and cloth. But I also have jars, cards, and books. So, if it would please you, Madam, pray explain what you mean by 'dolls'."

"I call you 'Child' because you are younger than me by measurements beyond your understand. But as your Waking world goes, you are an adult. Tell me, when you were a child in your Waking world, did you have dolls as toys?"

"I did."

"Were they mockeries of babies as what some cultures give to girls?"

"Some were. And some were mockeries of adults. And some were images of imaginary things. And some were images of things not yet created."

I felt her nod more than I saw it. "And I take it that some were cloth and some were metal and some were hard and some were soft, so yes, you did have dolls as a child. But, tell me, do you have dolls, now?"

Again the crisis of taxonomy kept me from immediately answering. "I... do?"

"But?"

"But, there's a difference in meaning between the dolls of my childhood and the dolls I have now. And I feel the difference but I am struggling to place them in words. Nearly all of the dolls I have now are not meant for children, even if they are superficially the same."

The dame nodded her head. I did not ask how porcelain could bend or if she has a jointed neck. That I even considered the possibilities felt rude and invasive. The grand dame is her own person, entirely and completely as she is.

"So you have no velveteen rabbits in your care?"

I brightened to hear the reference and almost looked up directly to her face. I caught myself at the last moment and ignored what my eyes were seeing and allowed them to drift past her. "Ha! I do! My daughter made a poppet that only a parent could love, and I love it dearly. And what was supposed to be a replaceable toy now has a place of honor despite no longer being functional for what it was created for. But they have the worth I have personally ascribed to them."

I realize the direction of her questioning and spoke more blunt than I should have. "Those do not have value independent of me. As you do, Madam."

Her head tilted. "And of your dolls made of wood and porcelain and clay, your dolls wound from yarn and string and cloth, and your dolls caught in jars and cards and books, do any of them contain value independent of yourself, as I do?"

"Yes." The answer came from my mouth before I could even consider how to answer politely.

Her head tilted the opposite direction. "And of those, did you make them yourself or were they made by others? And of those made by others, were they made specifically for you or were they valueless upon arrival and developed value over time?"

I felt the dollmaker's gaze from across the room fixing me to the chair even as I lost all use of my eyes entirely. All I could see was my room in my mind's eye and all the things I had in plain sight or tucked away. I could not help but to respond to her interrogations.

"One, I made myself according to the instructions given to me. The others were made by other hands, some made specifically for me and some were made to be bought. But the value ascribed to them were deliberate. My only choice in the matter was to accept the value as ascribed or not."

Something made a clunky noise on the table and the sharp retort broke me from the spell. I looked at where my tea cup and plate had been to see a rough piece of quartz. Beside us, another chair had been placed between the grand dame and myself. Seated on the bare wood was another doll, only two feet in height, and completely inert.

At first glance, it appeared to be a large nutcracker as if from the play, but as I stared at it, the features melted and remolded. I studied what remained constant: The clothes were always shirt, jacket, and pants regardless of the color. The shoes were always black. The hair was always black as were the eyes. The doll always presented as male, no matter what costume it wore for however short a time that I could see it. To my dismay, the chest was open and the inner material was revealed.

But I realized that this new doll's chest had not been marred or ripped open from an attack. The wound was present because the doll was not yet complete. I realized this was why the body kept changing form. The value of the container was not yet settled.

"I asked to meet with you, because my son wishes to travel in your company. And what [matriarch] would I be if I did not take care to ensure that the company he wishes to keep would be worth keeping."

A porcelain hand reached across the table and pushed the chunk of quartz towards me. "His heart. I know that the doll you made has something similar. The exterior could be anything so long as the heart is secure within it."

The quartz flashed as light played within it. I felt a deep dread chill my bones and recognized it as simple fear. The kind of fear that should be listened to.

"Forgive me, Madam, but taking on such a doll is a great responsibility. I will be honest with you, I am not doing well in the Waking and there are matters that I need to settle so I can have empty hands to pick up anything else. I do not know how to care for nobility. I struggle to care for the krew I already have and we are all ditch-bred."

The porcelain hand withdrew and I heard her settle further into her chair. "Oh, of that I am quite aware. My son is of the opinion that he would be of service to you, that he would be able to assist you with some of those concerns that have dug their barbs into your feet."

For all that my mouth was voicing objections, my mind was already taking stock of the rocks, stones, and crystals in my possession. There are two pieces that could be a match for the shard on the table. One matches the coloration but not the size. The other matches the size but not the coloration. Both are independently under the purview of other personas already.

If either one of them were willing to give up their claim...

"Madam! Please forgive my obstinacy! What you are offering is not a trite matter. Not to mention, due to the size of the heart, the doll's body must be equal in size. I lack the skills to create a proper body this endeavor would require and the funds to commission an appropriate body from someone else! It would be irresponsible of me to accept the sponsorship you are offering and I wish not to offend you or your clan." I bowed my head in a gesture of contrite apology.

My peripheral vision informed me that the grand dame turned her head to look at the dollmaker, and that the dollmaker responded with a gesture I could not perceive. She tilted her head as if in thought for a moment, before turning again to me.

"What is there to refuse? He will serve you. I agree to it."

I kept my face tilted low and asked what would be the rudest thing to come out of my mouth thus far. "And what is required of me should I agree? Madam, to be rudely blunt, you are forcing me to accept a burden I do not understand as if I were caste bound to a destiny I never sought."

I heard the scrape of cloth against wood and closed my eyes in childish fear.

From across the room, I heard the dollmaker's voice, quiet and gentle. "You are afraid of being forced to pay a debt that was never yours to incur, yes? You are covered in the scars left by traps wrapped in the colors of good will, after all. I warned Madam of that, that flesh and blood has survival instincts and those that have survived are wary of repeating the experience of being wounded again. Would you take my word for it? My word as a dollmaker."

I turned my still bowed head to the dollmaker. "If this were something that only existed in the Dreaming, I would not hesitate to accept. I need all the help I can get right now, and someone who can speak on my behalf in languages and corridors I will never have time to learn would be a big help. But I can feel the texture of the doll's heart on my thumb and its weight in my hand, which means this is going to be a physical thing in the Waking, which means costs and space and physical limitations that I am already running face first into."

I recalled how that one doll came into being and how the resulting familiar has inserted itself into nearly every aspect of my waking life. "A physical doll has physical repercussions. I will not give up my autonomy for the sake of an experience. Let the good prince find a sponsor worthy of his attention. I am not it."

The dollmaker sighed. I could feel them nodding across the room. The tension began to coldly settle. "Look at me."

I could not refuse the command. I turned my head and opened my eyes to find the dollmaker kneeling beside me at the table so that my face was even with theirs, close enough that the warmth of my body was reflected back to me, close enough that I could see the reflection of my panicked face in their eyes.

"Trust me. Accept. The physical doll does not need to be immediate. The Waking has its own time to turn. But if I did not think you were worthy of the doll, or that the doll was not worthy of you, you would not be here to consider it."

I looked away from the dollmaker to the unfinished doll on the chair. Its body kept changing but the opening in the chest remained void.

I looked away from the unfinished doll to the grand dame seated across from me. It was my intention to look her directly in the face, but some instinct kept my eyes from looking past the length of long dark ringed locks crowning her. I saw enough of her porcelain skin to realize that her body had been repaired many times.

I looked away from the grand dame to the doll's crystal heart on the table in front of me. Again, it matched one physical crystal in coloration but not in size, and another physical crystal in size but not in coloration. The only thing that could prevent me from accepting is that I had nothing in the Waking to anchor the matter as I did when I build the familiar's doll body.

"Even if I were to accept here, it is an empty gesture and nothing will come of it. Not just because I lack the ability to follow through with the creation of the doll's body. I don't have the heart. When [my familiar] came to me, I already had the heart. I just didn't realize it until they showed me how to create the body. This crystal here, I don't have. I physically have two that could substitute for it, but then something is going to have to give for one of those two to be a match. Mainly the permission of those that already have a claim on them."

I looked back to the dollmaker. "I don't know enough about how physical materials affect the spirit using them. I have a lot of books and enough information on the Internet to drive someone mad, but I don't know if the mismatches between what is on the table here and the two crystals I have is going to be a problem. My familiar picked the heart for their body before any actual construction began."

The dollmaker nodded and turned to the grand dame. "Do you take offense at her refusal, Madam?"

The doll sniffed in a way that was tragically cute. "Yes. But only because her concerns are valid and I recognize that. However, I do not retract my offer, nor do I accept her refusal! She will have my son as one of her dolls!"

I tried to look up at her again and found my sight stuck on the lace trim at her shoulders. "Madam, it was four months between my familiar picking their heart and me actually making it. For the body style presented here, it could be a year after getting the right heart before I will have the funds to commission the creation, and likely another year after that for it to be completed! I can't even begin to think what kind of ritual and process it will take to install the heart after that."

The grand dame sighed with great impatience. "I am aware. I am very aware of the passage of time in your Waking world. Sometimes, those that wish to be have no choice but to wait until the time of being. I know that, very, very well. And this, my son will learn as you do what needs to be done."

I leaned my head to the dollmaker. "She really isn't going to accept no as an answer, is she?" The dollmaker failed to smother their chuckle as they shook their head.

The panic having left me, I thought through my options with a clear head. "I accept, with conditions! No heart, no body. I will not begin pursuit of a proper doll body without having the heart physically at hand. If one of the two prospective crystals in my care are surrendered by those claiming them, then your son may take up either one that suits him better. If neither one is suitable or if the current claimants will not surrender the suitable crystal, then it falls to you and those you command to bring the proper heart to me, without debt, and without injury to myself or those I care for. Once I have the heart, and it is confirmed by you to be acceptable as the heart, I will begin the process of saving funds for the commission of the body and all the necessary processes that follow."

I heard the tiniest of chinks as a new crack appeared in the grand dame's porcelain face. I almost started to panic but the dollmaker's stern look towards her made me look away again.

"Madam! What have I told you about exuberant expressions! Porcelain can only give so much!"

I had to face the wall to keep from staring and I held my mouth closed to prevent myself from bursting into laughter. As the grand dame fussed at the dollmaker's fussing about her face, I felt the cold tension in the room completely dissolve into cuddled mirth.

For all the joy across the table, I felt tired and aged. There are so many problems waiting for me in the Waking world, that I had deliberately withdrew from many types of shenanigans so I could focus on fixing myself. And here I am, adding another knot to the thread of my life.

It took three years between agreeing to get a certain ring and actually obtaining it. This will likely be similar in time and physical cost. But until the physical heart is in my physical hand, I resolved to regard this as merely the dream it is and to think nothing more about it.

"You can look forward again. She and her son have left."

"Huh?" I look around to find the dollmaker opening curtains and unlocking the store's front door. Somehow the entire night had passed while the grand dame was contending with me. The shadows returned to cover the jury of dolls on the benches, but it was clear that two seats were now empty.

They extended their hand to me and helped me stand from the table. "I do not know what... what did you call him? The Good Prince? I do not know what the Heart of the Good Prince will look like. I do most of my work here in the Dreaming, after all. But I am confident that when it comes to you, that you will recognize it on sight."

They escorted me to the front door. In the street a few people were waiting for the door to be opened. "I am always available for consultation once the process of commissioning the body begins. It is my endeavor to match doll to home, after all. Now, then, it is dawn in your world, and you have matters to attend to. Be well."

They opened the front door and instead of opening to the street, the space beyond the threshold was a vibrant and sparkling void. I looked through the window and realized that to the waiting patrons, the door was still closed.

"I'll try, Dollmaker. Thank you for intervening, I think. I'm still not sure what I just signed up for, but I guess I'll find out along the way."

I shook their hand and stepped through the portal.

It was indeed dawn, and there were physical matters that demanded my full and woke attention. After obtaining coffee, I sat down with the intention to write "just a few notes" about the matter, and here I am.

#dream #This was supposed to be a quick write up.#It ain't quick.#It took me four hours to write this post on one go and I am still having a tantrum about it.#I feel like I've been tricked into something but I'm not sure how or what.#Hand over the coffee and nobody gets hurt.

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pookiecowpoke · 1 year

Note

Hello! Dunno if you still take rarepair requests but Im craaaaving for David x Ace romantic fluff fanfic, been suffering for all these years..i cant take it anymore. If you could make the omega verse one id be the happiest person alive :) And ill tip for your work and time of course <3

Ace High

Pairing: Ace Visconti/David King

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Rating: Gen

Tags: Fluff, Omegaverse, scenting, marking, cuddling, poker

Word count: More than 1200

Comments: This is my first omegaverse fic… so I apologize if somethings aren’t the typical alpha/omega dynamic. It’s not really my thing to read, but I’m always willing to try new things :) And I don’t know if this qualifies as romance… but I tried. I hope you enjoy you lovely person!

It was cold. Even this close to the campfire the fog sent a chill into Ace’s hunched over figure. He was the only one present, most other survivors either in a trial or wandering into the fog to pass the time by. It was these lonely times that Ace hated the most. Away from his alpha’s warmth and struggling to not fidget. David hadn’t even been able to give him a goodbye kiss before he was whisked away by the Entity.

A few moments ago Ace had felt a spike of pain cutting through his chest, he keeled over and held his chest, knowing that David had been hooked, but the pain ebbed away as quickly as it came on. As time had progressed between their relationship they had both been able to feel each other’s pain and hints of their sharp emotions.

To keep his nerves at bay, he took to shuffling his deck of cards, fingers going numb at this point. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten the cards in the first place. The almighty Entity could be gracious at times, and he assumed when he found the deck in his pants’ pocket he had earned them somehow.

Feeling the worn paper between his calloused fingertips usually calmed his nerves, but tonight it only made him more antsy. The mark on his neck itched something fierce, like an underlying rash that only his alpha could sooth.

With an eyeroll and groan, Ace hung his head and let his cards flutter to the forest floor. Why did the Entity see fit to torture him? Didn’t they get enough torture and pain in the trials?

Ace grumbled as he picked up his deck of cards and shoved them into his pocket, staring into the flames of the campfire as it licked over the ever burning logs. When Ace had first woken up in this hell hole he wondered how the logs never needed to be replaced, how the fire never dampened. It was just one of those unexplainable things.

Ace sighed and kicked a clump of dirt into the campfire, watching it hiss before coming back full force. He wished David would hurry up in his trial so they could cuddle by the campfire already.

As if the Entity answered his prayers, he heard multiple footsteps emerge from the fog, the crunching of leaves following. Ace whipped around to watch four people approach the fire. Dwight stumbled up to the fire followed by Meg and Jake, but Ace’s attention was on David’s imposing figure.

David’s face lit up upon spotting Ace by the fire. Ace put a coy smile on his face even if his heart leapt into his throat and stomach filled with butterflies.

“Took ya long enough, David,” Ace scoffed and scratched at his jaw line.

David rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, staring down at his omega. His stare made Ace squirm and bite his lower lip, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I can’t leave ya anywhere can I?” David snickered before dipping down and bodily scooping Ace up.

Ace felt like he was on cloud nine as David nuzzled into Ace’s neck to kiss at the mark on his neck. Curling his arms around David’s solid neck, Ace greedily inhaled David’s scent, sating his loneliness. David always smelled salty with sweat but with hints of beer and cedarwood. It made Ace shiver, especially by being cradled in his large arms. The contact of their bodies drew the chill from his body and made him feel warm and safe like nothing could harm him.

After David sat down, he perched Ace on his lap and settled his chin on his shoulder, humming a tune unknown to Ace. Must have been some British pub song or something. His large hand reached up to pull Ace’s hat off so he could graze his fingers through his graying hair. Ace leaned up into the petting, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

The calming aura surrounding them lasted until Ace huffed and turned to give David a pout. “Do you want to play a game of cards?”

David quirked an eyebrow. “What isn’t my presence enough for ya, ya li’l bastard?” Ace knew he was teasing by the warm smirk curled on his lips but it still made his heart thump unplesanatly. David sighed and cupped Ace’s jaw, fingernail scratching at his facial hair. “Ya promise not to cheat again?”

Ace lit up and leaned in to press his forehead against David’s. “Ah, I can’t prommmise, but I can say I won’t.”

David chuckled and patted Ace’s flank. “Alright, I’ll play with ya, but if ya fockin’ cheat-”

“Ya won’t do shit, my Alpha.” Ace chuffed and slid off his lap to sit beside him so he could deal the cards.

“Hmph, we’ll see about that.”

Throughout the few rounds of Texas Hold ‘Em, a few more people had returned to the fire, but Ace was purely focused on his alpha and the cards in his hand. He almost got distracted from his goal of winning when David ran a hand over his shin and thumbed at Ace’s ring, but he held strong in the end.

David threw his cards down after losing several rounds in a row, only to find out Ace had been counting cards and had two aces up his sleeve the entire time. David cupped Ace’s face between his large scarred hands and attacked his nose and cheeks with kisses.

“Is this my punishment? Because it doesn’t feel like much of a punishment.” Ace chuckled between kisses, his fingers curling around David’s forearms brushing over the dusting of hair.

David pressed his forehead to Ace’s, his dark eyes peering into Ace’s sunglasses before he reached up to flick them off. “Nah, I don’t think it’s a punishment, love.”

Ace’s heart swelled with joy at the simple petname, but his tongue lashed out for him. “You can be so sappy, David.” He pressed his lips to David’s scarred nose. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Me, the sappy one?” David barked a laugh before burying his nose in Ace’s neck teasing at the tanned skin. “Look in the mirror, sweetheart.”

“When you find a mirror in this shit hole tell me.” Ace carded through David’s hair before pressing his cheek to the top of his head, taking short sniffs of his hair.

David hummed, the vibration in his throat rumbling into Ace’s body. “I’ll be sure to let ya know.”

After Ace collected his cards and put them away, they shifted positions until David was seated on the ground, his back leaning against the log and Ace curled up against his side. David’s heavy, blanketing arm was slung over his shoulder keeping him warm, and Ace’s own arm was flung over David’s stomach.

Ace’s eyes drifted shut as he listened to David’s powerful thumping heart, the way his chest vibrated when he quipped to one of the other survivors’ statements. It was peaceful, until he opened his eyes and the warmth of his mate was gone. He was alone, no campfire in sight and the dark, linoleum hallways of the Doctor’s institute setting a coldness in Ace’s gut.

“Ugh, fuck you, Entity…”

#rarepair asks #rarepair #ace visconti #david king #dead by daylight #fanfic #my writing #fluff #omegaverse

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summerwritesfics · 9 months

Text

🌸Request Rules🌸

Request Status: CLOSED

Rules Last Updated: 19th August 2023

Below is a brief list of things I will write, might write and won’t write! Please take a minute to read through this list, and look through the FAQ before asking questions. This will change from time to time as new things come up. I would appreciate if you could like this post so I know you’ve read through before requesting but it isn’t necessary!

If you have any questions, please read the FAQ first before asking, but otherwise feel free to either DM me or reply to this post if this doesn’t answer what you need :)

Yes

Fluff

Angst

Hurt/Comfort

Whump & Gore

Violence & Fighting

Messy/Complicated Relationships

M/M, F/F, M/F, NB/NB, NB/M, NB/F

Gen, Platonic & Family Relationships

Ship’s I Don’t Personally Ship (Please consult below for exceptions)

Poly Ships

Maybe

Smut/NSFW (18+ Only!)

BDSM & Kinks (Please consult below for exceptions)

Depression, Suicide and Self Harm

Sick Fic

Pregnancy

Major Character Death

NSFW Involving Minors

NSFW Requests From Minors

Romance Between Minors & Adults

Incest

Rape/Non-Con

Domestic Abuse

Homophobia, Transphobia, Racism, Ablism, Basically Any Sort Of Bigotry

Vomit/Vomiting

Forcefeeding

Fingernail/Toenail Trauma

Food Play

Scat/Watersports/Any Sort Of Bodily Fluid Other Than Cum

Armpit Kink, Foot Fetish

DaddyDom/MommyDom, DDLG, DDLB, MDLG, MDLB or any variation

Medical Kink

Cancer & Seizures (Possibly temporary)

Ships I Won’t Write

I want to make it clear this isn’t a hate list, this is merely a list of ships I’m not comfortable writing for whatever reason.

Canon/Reader, Anything Y/N Or Selfship

Canon/OC

OC / OC

Kuai Liang/Frost

Kuai Liang/Cassie Cage

Bi-Han/Frost

Shao Kahn/Sindel

Ferra/Any Character

Kung Jin/Any Female Character

Other Important Stuff

Top!Kuai/Bottom!Hanzo is strictly reserved for special occasions (birthdays, events & giveaways). If your request doesn’t fall into a special occasion, then I only write Top!Hanzo/Bottom!Kuai

Actually on that note, my default for all Kuai Liang ships is him being the bottom. If that isn’t what you want, I am probably not the person you should be requesting from lmfao.

Q: How Do I Send A Request?

A: DM on either Tumblr or Discord or sending an Ask to my personal blog @summertrapped

Q: Are Your Yes/Maybe/No Lists Set In Stone?

A: For the most part, yet.

Q: Why Won’t You Write Reader Insert Fics?

A: They just aren’t my cup of tea as a writer. I’ve bent this rule once in the past, but I intend to keep that as a one off. I think there are a lot of other people who can write that content a lot better than me :)

Q: Why Won’t You Write OC’s?

A: I simply don’t feel comfortable writing other peoples OC’s.

Q: Why Won’t You Write Insert Ship Here?

A: The ships listed in my no-write list are merely just there because I am uncomfortable writing them in a romantic manor. I will write these characters in platonic/gen fics, it is just the romance I am uncomfortable with.

Q: Why Won’t You Write About Insert Subject On My No List Here?

A: There’s a lot of reasons and it’s really a case by case basis. Some are things I just flat out don’t write about, some are things I occasionally write but are subjects that I do not feel comfortable taking on as requests and some are simply just personal squicks of mine that I’d rather not write about if possible :)

Q: What If Something I Want Is On The Maybe List?

A: The maybe list is really stuff I will write but I’ll need to negotiate with you on some stuff regarding it. Smut is strictly 18+! I will not take smut requests from minors and will ask to double check your age before I write. If I find out you have lied about your age, I will block you and cancel your request (and no, if you can not respect this boundary, you are not “mature for your age”). Depression, self harm and suicide can be touchy subjects for me, so I will do requests so long as I’m in a safe mental state to do so. Sick fic I’ll do so long as sickness doesn’t involve vomiting. Pregnancy, again, depends how I’m feeling, and I flat out won’t write about morning sickness. Major character death depends on many factors and is genuinely a case by case basis, so you’ll really need to talk to me about what you want for me to say if it’s a no go.

Q: What’s The Deal With Top!Kuai/Bottom!Hanzo? Can I Request Kuai Topping In Other Ships?

A: I’ll Be honest this one is maybe a bit petty, as it’s just not my preference and that’s all there is to it lol. It’s more here as a warning that unless it’s a special occasion and you specifically request it, I will default to Top!Hanzo/Bottom!Kuai, and generally just write Bottom!Kuai for all ships involving him. That said, Top=/=Dominant and Bottom=/=Submissive, so if you want Dom!Kuai that’s fine, just know it’ll be Power Bottom flavour :)

Q: Do You Only Take Requests For Mortal Kombat Fics?

A: At present yes, although I would consider requests for Loom, but that’s such an obscure game I doubt that’s gonna happen. Maybe one day I’ll find another fandom I want to write for, but for now, I’m happy with MK :)

#🌸announcements🌸#🌸request rules🌸

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twists-and-things-betwixt · 1 year

Text

Of Nightingales and Night Ravens: Chapter 2 - Music Night at the Mostro Lounge

Chapter: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII

Read on AO3

Summary: In which Yuu makes her debut as a cabaret singer at the Mostro Lounge. (or, Poor Unfortunate Souls)

Yuura is referred to as They and She.

"Everyone, please, keep him distracted! I'm going to try something!""What? Yuu, no, last time—!"

"Please, just trust me!"

"Hurry up! The glass isn't gonna hold up much longer!"

"Finally! The oceans belong to me!"

"What are they doing?!"

"And—now—you—poor unfortunate soul! Time's up! You're through!"

"The Sea Witch's song? But how—!"

"Now the power of Poseidon has been once again made whole! All the magic of the trident and the shell in my control! And now dark shall reign forever—over ocean, sea, and shoal…!"

The golden trident that materializes in their hands crackles like condensed lightning, harsh and wicked sharp and blindingly bright.

"Now see for yourself how banishment feels!"

"Shit, the dome's caving in!"

"YOU POOR—UN—FORTUNATE—SOUL!"

----

The moment the Prefect steps foot inside the Mostro Lounge, the Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw customers in attendance—as well as a number of the servers—stand to attention, abandoning their conversations in favor of glancing warily over at the Ramshackle student, though the gazes of the Octavinelle students who now know are a tad more awestruck, a bit more fearful.

(A significant upgrade from the looks of disbelief the Prefect’s co-workers used to give them when it became clear that they somehow managed to capture the attentions of both Leech twins without severe bodily harm to their person. When demanded how, the Prefect shrugged, looked back at them with an incredulous face, and said, "Senior Jade and Senior Floyd aren’t so bad, once you get to know them. They remind me of my uncles, a bit."

(Again—insane.)

The Prefect does not pay them any mind, occupied with the excitable Leech twin who comes barreling towards them from across the room with a cheerful "He—e—y, Shrimpy!" Neither do they notice the punched out gasps and sympathetic winces given when Floyd Leech sweeps them up into a bone-crushing squeeze that leaves their legs dangling. "Ya here for Azul's thing?"

"Ah! Mind the ribs, please," the Prefect wheezes, wriggling in his grasp as they adjust their breathing. Hands freed, they wrap one arm around his shoulders and use the other hand to start pinching his cheek (cue more gaping and gasping from their audience). "It's good to see you. Could you take me to Senior Ashengrotto's office, please?"

"Ehhh? Are your skinny shrimp legs too weak to walk there by yourself, Lil' Shrimpy?" Floyd drawls. His words are a little distorted by the cheek-pulling.

"Would you put me down and let me walk there, then?"

"Nope~." Multiple onlookers collectively suffer a stroke as the Leech proceeds to toss the Prefect up into the air long enough to catch them with an arm under their knees and around the back.

To the Prefect's credit, they only let out a startled "Oop," before folding their hands behind his neck. ''Lead the way,'' they say, quite cheerful.

(Somewhere in the background, too many Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw students almost jump out of their seats, torn between running after the Leech walking away with their Singer and staying put because it's the Scarier Leech walking away with their Singer.)

----

When the Prefect steps back inside the Lounge—this time from the shadows of the low stage set up near the center of the room—silverware is dropped, drinks are spilled and choked on, and two or three people almost upturn their dishes slamming their elbows down on the edges of their plates.

(From the very beginning, the young men of NRC have defaulted to referring to the Prefect with the neutral They, their gender even harder to distinguish than the Pomefiore students with more androgynous features (like the diva Housewarden himself or that tiny freshman on the Spelldrive team). After all, Night Raven College is an all-boys academy. It’s safe to assume that everyone at the very least goes by He.

(Then the Prefect shuffled into the Mirror Chamber with a smaller-than-average stature and waifish figure, with thin hands and delicate wrists, and large hazel-brown eyes with soft edges set in a round face. And then the fat cat and Heartslabyul dunces who hung around the Prefect addressed them with They. And then one day, the Prefect tied their hair back into a sprout of a tail and Spade started using He. And then the next day, the Prefect walked into History of Magic in a handmade skirt and cardigan and Trappola started using She. At that point, everyone who interacted with the Prefect just went with their gut instinct. And even when the Prefect was wearing the ponytail and called She, or the skirt and called He, they never frowned or corrected anyone, so the Prefect’s gender was chalked up as another oddity about them that, at best, only caused mild confusion, with people fumbling over whether to roughhouse with them like they do with their classmates, or treat them as they would a lady, with respect and due regard.)

But in the dim, intimate lighting of the Mostro Lounge, the Prefect blended in with the shadows in their—her black sheath dress, skirts whispering silently against the carpet and collar reaching high to conceal the column of her neck. Exposed arms were clad in long gloves of fine black lace. The sheer scarf draped over her shoulders flows down her arms and spills over her wrists like a stream of violet water. Her hair is even darker in this lighting, making the pearls studded throughout almost as bright as diamonds.

''I won’t even question how you got my measurements, I’m sure you have your ways. It’s very kind of you to lend me this.''

''But of course. You are providing me with an invaluable service; I’m merely returning the favor… And the dress is yours to keep.''

''Now you’re being too generous, Senior—I mean, Azul-san. Ah, do you think my hair looks alright? My father always said pearls suited me, but I’m sure it’s just paternal sentiment speaking, you know?''

“...I’m inclined to agree with your father, Miss Yuura.''

''And now, here with us all tonight, making her debut performance—''

That’s the voice of the proprietor himself, distracting the audience long enough for several to realize that the Prefect isn’t holding a microphone, nor is the usual band onstage to accompany them—her.

''—everyone, please welcome the Prefect of Ramshackle, Yuura Miyajima, with what she describes as ‘a tribute to the Sea Witch.’''

‘A tribute to the Sea Witch’? What could that even mean?''

I admit that in the past, I’ve been a nasty. They weren’t kidding when they called me, well, a witch.''

…was that Barren Tongue? Where was that smoke coming from? Where was that music coming from?

The Prefect steps forward, wisps of grayish-lavender smoke rolling off her skirt to slither across the floor, up half-steps, over the feet of tables and spectators alike, like tentacles reaching out, seeking, searching. "And I fortunately know a little magic." She trails her hand in front of her, and the room grows cavernous—the shadows deepen and lengthen, the lights outside the aquarium darken as mauve and violet cast ominously across the room. "It's a talent that I always have possessed.

"What magic?! several audience members outside of the Know internally scream, frozen in their seats. What talent?! You're supposed to be the Magicless Prefect! What kind of sorcery is this?

"And here lately—please don't laugh—"No one is laughing, Miss Ramshackle Prefect!"—I use it on behalf of the miserable, lonely, and depressed…"

…pathetic…

…hahahaha!...

…where did those echoes come from? That laughter?

"Poor unfortunate souls… In pain. In need."

There's no way the Prefect could know this song. Not even those native to the Coral Sea know all the words anymore—not in their native okeánios Olympikós—poneménis psychís, that's almost all they can remember, hurt, aching soul—let alone in Barren Tongue. No one outside the waters of Atlantica should even know the melody. Yet here the Prefect stands, clad in black and violet like a shade of the Sea Witch herself, singing her Lost Song with haunting familiarity.

The Prefect throws her arms out as if to beckon her audience. That wouldn't be far off. Though the words she sings are in Barren Tongue, it's almost as if the very meaning of the song is embedding itself into her audience's minds. They can't understand the words, but they can understand the intention behind them. A song meant to entice—to tempt and beguile and seduce. A shiny lure for the gullible fish, ignorant to the sharp hooks just waiting to sink into vulnerable flesh.

(In the privacy of her mind, Yuura Miyajima is caught between excitement, fear, and guilt. Fear, because she didn't expect Poor Unfortunate Souls to be so potent, only halfway through the song. Guilt, because she doesn't want anyone to be scared of her, not really. Excitement, because this is as much of a gift as it is a threat. A gift to Azul-san and the other Octavinelle students. A threat to them as well as everyone else listening. Perhaps a healthy dose of fear is needed, because if they are afraid, they'll leave her and hers alone, and if they're afraid, then maybe Yuu can use this to protect just as much as she can use it to hurt—)

"The men up there don't like a lot of blather." She lifts her skirts to climb the steps leading up to the tables and booths near the aquarium glass, an uncharacteristic, dismissive air to her. "They think a girl who gossips is a bore. Yes, on land it's much preferred for ladies not to say a word—"

(Her hand comes to rest on her throat, and the action does not go unnoticed by the Octavinelle Housewarden, whose eyes never strayed for even a moment since she started singing the song of their beloved Sea Witch. Not after he was informed of the events of his unfortunate Overblot and the trump card the Prefect finally played. After they were both knocked out, and he came to before she did. After he caught a glimpse of the black marks encircling her neck.)

"And after all, dear, what is idle prattle for?"

...COME ON...

"They're not all that impressed with conversation! True gentlemen avoid it when they can." The Prefect clasps her hands to her chest, an almost perfect picture of innocence were it not for the thick fog now crawling up the walls and trickling down from the shadowed ceiling. "But they dote and swoon and fawn on a lady who's withdrawn."

…it's she who holds her tongue who gets a man…

Those clasped hands move up to wrap around her throat, the Prefect's face twisting into an impatient sneer, so out of place and all too dreadful to behold. A few people whimper. Some of the Octavinelle students grow weaker around the knees. Near the bar, Floyd Leech looks about ready to snatch the Prefect up, performance be damned.

"Come on, you poor unfortunate souls!" Rose and cerulean lights explode in the darkness, shocking and blindingly bright. There's a thud here and there as bodies hit the floor. Those Octavinelle servers fall to their knees. Those in the Know—those in the Watch—hold their breaths and watch the Prefect cast her spell in terrified awe. "Go ahead! Make your choice!

"I'm a very busy woman and I haven't got all day. It won't cost much—"

…JUST YOUR VOICE…

Why would you want our voices when you already have one like that? more than one student cries.

"You poor unfortunate souls! It's sad, but true." Gold light outlines the Prefect's features as she turns to face the Octavinelle Housewarden himself, seated at the bar with his left and right-hands, unable to conceal the wonder clearly on display. She taps her temple, lips curling into a mischievous grin. "If you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll. Take a gulp and take a breath and go ahead and sign the scroll."

Amusement dances in those dark eyes as she extends her hands to the Vice Housewarden behind the bar with an unreadable expression and his twin brother standing nearby with a greedy one. "Floyd and Jade Leech, now I've got 'im, boys! The boss is on a roll~!"

She spins away, smoke and fog surrounding her as she returns to the stage center of the room, taking in all of the eyes staring at her in awe. In dread. In fear.

It's too late to turn back now.

"This POOR—UN—FORTUNATE—SOUL!"

----

"Hey, join our club."

"You mean your cult?"

"So what if it is? You were there That Night at the Mostro Lounge, weren't you?"

"...so Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw already, huh?"

"Oh, man, you should've seen what they did to Leona-san back in October."

----

"Do you think she'll be amicable to private performances?"

"Azul, I can assure you, she'll be willing to do almost anything if it were you, me, Floyd, or any of those parasites she calls friends asking her to."

"Who knew Lil' Shrimpy could do scary~?"

----

Is it terrible that I enjoyed it so much? Maybe I should consider AA's contract to be a regular performer at the Lounge…

#my writing #twisted wonderland #twst #of nightingales and night ravens #onanr #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #twisted wonderland fanfic

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