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hawkogurl · 1 year ago

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I am bad at specifics (as you can see) so do you have anything about Peter mutation I think in the movie most of it was a dream sequence, but I was wondering if you had any thoughts on it as well as Peter and Harry fighting when Peter had Venom I think Peter was lying on the same couch he placed Normans body on. Finally the Picture of all three of them skating.

Just got off work so pardon my exhaustion

In order

1-the spider bite and transformation for Peter is a fairly obvious symbol for adulthood and coming of age. I think choosing Tobey Maguire, a fairly baby faced actor, was smart here, because they got to utilize the dichotomy of having Peter look very young and nonthreatening and for lack of a better word “innocent” to have him seem more on the, for back of a better wording, earlier side of the child to adult coming of age arc. Whereas post bite, he’s physically stronger and visibly more muscular, something that can often be used to symbolize a character maturing in a lot of media that shows younger male characters aging.

Whats more, on the note of the spider bite as coming of age, it’s the catalyst for a significant amount of emotional development. After that point, through enduring extremely severe consequences for what seem like small mistakes (Uncle Ben), Peter is forced to mature very rapidly. As a result he becomes more empathetic, kinder, and iconically more responsible. As a result of the bite, Peter goes through the experiences that shape him into an adult over the course of the trilogy. A more basic analysis but I think it gets the point across especially for a topic I haven’t really thought about in depth.

But a little known fact about this plotline is how much more explicitly it’s executed in that one script with Leonardo DiCaprio as Peter. (This script is AWFUL by the way. It’s so bad.) In that, Peter has some wild ass dreams right after the spider bite and uh. Wakes up with some ~white sticky stuff~ attaching him to his sheets! That’s right baby, we got a wet dream metaphor for no fucking reason.

2-the scene in the movie did not have Peter laying on the lounge Norman’s body has been placed on, that was an alternate scene that was filmed and used in the directors cut. Wish they’d used it though! I personally find this one fascinating because I think it’s a good example of how symbioted up Peter just immediately slid into wanting to hurt Peter. I think it’s a pretty interesting way to show the symbiote intensifying some vindictiveness that’s present in Peter’s character once you peel the layers away, especially novelization Peter.

Like… in the novels this is the line.

Telling Harry he’s unloveable is a bit above what he said in the movies. It’s awful and sadistic and I love it and think it should have been in them. I think that comment about Norman in particular is wonderful because it rings true. I know that Raimi Norman has been sort of aggressively woobified and stripped of responsibility for being a classist misogynistic child abuser by our post no way home world, but he’s a bastard and I could probably write thousands of words explaining how Harry being unable to process and accept that Norman was a neglectful and abusive father contributes to why he’s so insistent on pursuing revenge even once he knows Norman was a maniacal mass murderer who nearly murdered both himself and MJ.

Another thing that I find interesting here is like… it’s remarkably easy to argue Peter was absolutely trying to cause Harry physical harm, perhaps to the degree of actually just trying to kill him. He threw a fucking bomb at Harry for crying out loud! This ends up giving me this odd impressions that, especially with him recovering from third degree burns across half his body in about 72 hours, Harry is extremely durable. Human crash test dummy. Makes more sense that Harry seemed to get a concussion from a head injury that should have snapped his neck earlier in the third movie once you take this into account.

Also there’s a crucifixion shot in this scene which I think is wonderful. Harry the hanged man tarot card real.

My absolute favorite part of this scene is an instance of the classic raimi trilogy trope: Harry trying to pretend like he’s attracted to women always makes him act like a goddamn space alien.

3-So we don’t really know a ton about this photo. It’s likely this was taken between sm1 and sm2, especially based on the state of Harry’s hair color and texture. However, one thing that destroys me here is that the cracked glass when Harry picks it up is dividing Harry and Peter. Originally, the scene with the butler isn’t in here and Harry only found the photo and that’s what motivated him to go help. I wish they’d kept it in there. It’s more powerful if it’s motivated internally. Also, see prior comments on why Harry clung to revenge so deeply. Harry would have been making the choice to defend the people who truly loved him with his life instead of mindlessly pursuing revenge he didn’t want because he thought it would make his abuser happy. Also would have been better because it would nail home the idea that Harry wasn’t an evil or malicious person, he was just like, hurting and severely mentally ill and probably actively experiencing psychosis for most of that from the looks of it. Using the butler sucked.

#harryposting #harry osborn #raimiverse #raimi trilogy #spider man #peter parker #spiderman

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big-bad-a-detective-story · 5 months ago

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Chapter 03

The Fairy Tale Police Department may not have been the biggest building in town, but what was there was menacing. Or, perhaps, these were just leftover feelings from the last time I had been brought in. It had only been a few weeks, after all, since I had been the one sitting in the interrogation room, defending my name and honor. I frowned, even as I swallowed down the dread and puffed out my chest. I walked as tall and proudly as I could, showing everyone that I was a wolf meant to walk among them!

I wasn’t sure if I should have felt relief or aggravation when the cops inside simply ignored my existence.

“HMPH. Perhaps they’re just not aware there’s a luminary lighting up their poor excuse of a precinct.” I mumbled under my breath, even as I dragged myself to the reception desk.

There was a woman sitting behind the desk, tip tapping away at her computer. Human. Glasses. With a bun that looked more like a bird’s nest than any semblance of a hairdo. Not winning any beauty pageants, but maybe a Ms. Congeniality was in there somewhere. I cleared my throat, getting her attention as I put on a smile worth “Fang of the Year”.

“Hello, ma’am. I’d like to pay a visit to one of your prisoners, if you’d be so kind.”

The woman behind the desk turned her attention to me and yikes, she looked like she hadn’t had a proper vacation in years. Or a nap, for that matter...

“Name, please.” Her voice was just as tired as her face, the poor soul.

“Hm! You may have heard of me, most call me the Big Bad Wolf.”

The woman only continued to stare at me. At last she blinked.

“Your real name, sir.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Norman D. Wolf.” Admittedly, this information was shared with less gusto, but it seemed to be the answer she was looking for. Go figure. She turned back to her computer.

“Alright, and who are you here to see, Mr. Wolf?”

“One Larry Lemonade, madam!”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, though I couldn’t fathom why.

“Mmm. Hm.” After some more typing and scrolling, she turned back to me, and folded her hands neatly on the counter.

“I’m sorry, sir, but it appears your name is not on his approved guest list.”

Really! The thought that I, an esteemed detective, would need to be on the list. Especially when I had been the one who sent him behind bars in the first place! She obviously did not know who she was speaking to.

“I beg your pardon, Ma’am! I am a detective. I need to speak with Larry regarding some very important matters relating to a sensitive case. A case he very well may be linked to!”

She remained unimpressed.

“I see. And do you happen to have a badge?” Her deadpan stare sharpened dangerously, her frown deepening. “Do you even know his actual name?”

This game of twenty questions had me fumble about-- the third degree burning my pride into cinders.

“I, well… you see, funny story..”

I was stalling, just trying to get my brain to jumpstart. Just about any thought would be helpful then having me shaking more than a pup off to see the vet against their will.

It was then I realized I could answer at least ONE of the questions.

“Bart LeMond!” I cried out, grin breaking out on my maw just as relief washed over me. “Larry’s real name is Bart LeMond.” It had come up in past cases, though the charges had been about lesser felonies of theft before the whole granny napping incident. I don’t know WHY I didn’t think to mention it before! Suppose his awful nickname grew on me, too.

The receptionist, meanwhile, sighed.

“That still won’t let you in. I’m sorry, Mr. Wolf. Perhaps you can get in contact with Mr. LeMond’s lawyer and request permission to get onto the visitation list.” And with that she went back to typing, deciding the conversation had come to an end.

I, meanwhile, stood there-- dumbfounded. It was hard to fathom how things had gotten to this point. Where one moment I had felt in control, the next everything had twisted and turned upside down. And now I felt as lost about what to do as ever.

Familiar feelings of failure hit my system, as I tried my best to reason with the woman.

“Ma’am, please. I understand this is not protocol. But… I wouldn’t even BE here if I didn’t think it was important.”

I took a shot, knowing just the risk I was taking by showing pilfered evidence from an ongoing case. I turned to the picture of Aamilah Maeiz and her kids.

“Larry is the only lead there is so far on tracking down who took her. I know it’s off the books, I know it’s not how things run around here. But we gotta do SOMETHING. There’s no telling what they’ll do with Ms. Maeiz the longer we wait!” I waved the wallet closer to the receptionist's face. “So please, help me help her. And the kids, too!”

I saw the woman’s hardened look crack, ever so slightly. When her eyes darted over to a photo of herself and two young children, I could see genuine sorrow in those perhaps once beautiful eyes.

It was gone by the time she brought her attention back to me, but so was the harshness in her glare.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help you, sir.” My sharp senses didn’t miss the way she subtly tilted her head toward the basket that sat just behind the counter, a laminated sign reading “Guest Passes” stapled to it.

So my charm had gotten me through yet again.

“I suppose Mr. Lemond, down that hall, through the double doors, Cell 9F, will have to wait and see you another day. Please come back with proper paperwork and permissions, have a nice day, sir.”

This was said so quickly, I barely caught it all. She’d spun back around completely now, to be sure not to see me, no doubt.

Clever woman.

“Thank you, madam. You very well may have just saved a woman’s life today.”

She pretended not to hear me. For the best. I reached over and sneakily swiped a pass, and slipped down the hall to my next destination. I didn’t get far, however, as those double doors she’d mentioned just so happened to be guarded by double trolls. Big fellas. Not too friendly looking. I flashed one of them a smile, I flashed both of them my pass. They exchanged a look I couldn’t read, and opened the doors, allowing me passage.

I allowed myself ample time appreciating my achievement, as I puffed up my chest and awaited what was just beyond those doors.

The Big Bad Wolf didn’t feel fear!

#big bad: a detective story #norman d wolf #the case of the nanny napped mother #chapter 03

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theteasetwrites · 3 years ago

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Fifty Kisses

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 9/10 (post time skip) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, just a tad bit suggestive ❧ Word Count: 2.6k

❧ Summary: It’s your man’s birthday, fiftieth, to be exact. As such, it’s imperative to participate in a few birthday traditions, including bestowing upon him fifty kisses, one for each year he’s been alive.

❧ A/N: A little birthday oneshot for our lord and savior Norman Reedus! And also for Daryl, since in my book it is also Daryl's birthday (until we get a definitive date, he's a Capricorn, baby). Oh, and yes, I know Norman is technically 53, but I'm just gonna say Daryl's turning 50 in this oneshot universe, okay? Okay. It works better for my purposes lmao (also not me realizing that Norman Reedus is almost exactly thirty years older than me, and that my parents are only three years older than him rip).

It all started back at the prison, when you asked him what his zodiac sign was.

“What the shit are you talkin’ about?” he had replied. “The hell is a zodiac sign?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, it’s like a personality thing. You know what your zodiac sign is based on what day you were born on. It’s what constellation the sun was in on that day. So, what day were you born on?” It was, indeed, a clever way to get him to spill the beans about his birthday, so one day, when you had the ways and means, and the ability to more precisely keep track of the days, you could celebrate it.

“Uh, January,” he said. “Let’s get back to work.” He held up his stake and plunged it into the walker’s head as it banged against the other side of the chain link fence.

“What day?” you asked as you joined him in taking out a few more walkers.

He looked at you incredulously. “You’re just tryin’ to find out my birthday. It ain’t gonna happen, (Y/N).”

You gave him an exaggerated pouty face. “Oh, come on, Daryl! What else are friends for besides getting each other birthday presents, huh? Come on, what day were you born? Besides, I have to know if you’re a Capricorn or an Aquarius. It makes all the difference, you know.”

He scoffed. “Fine, just don’t make a big deal out of it… January sixth.”

You beamed at him, trying to ignore the squelching sound of the metal stake lodging itself into the rotten flesh of a walker. “Aw, you’re a Capricorn! You know, that actually makes a lot of sense. You’re so… practical, and serious. And you work so hard.”

He rubbed his face with his gloved hand to try to hide the obvious reddening of his cheeks. “Yeah, sure,” he said.

“What month do you think we’re in? June? Whenever I get my hands on a calendar, I’m going to start keeping track of the days until January. How old are you going to be?”

He wiped the sweat off of his forehead and huffed. “Don’t ya ever stop talkin’?” Of course, he loved the sound of your voice, and didn’t want you to ever stop talking, but he also really didn’t want to think about the fact that he was going to be turning another year older in about six months. He always hated his birthdays.

“No,” you said. “How old? I won’t judge.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, though nearly broke out into a grin just from how adorable you were, with your blood-covered denim overalls and your huge, dorky safety goggles you wore to keep the walker guts out of your eyes. Maybe someday he’d work up the courage to tell you just how special he thought you were, but he couldn’t now. At least, not while you both had the rather unromantic task of caving in walkers’ heads at the fence.

“Forty,” he said.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, Daryl! That’s amazing! We have to have a celebration or something. What do you want for your birthday?”

“Want ya to focus on killin’ these walkers, (Y/N). My birthday ain’t that important.”

“Of course it is, Daryl,” you said. “Now that we’re safe here, we can appreciate all you do for us. Everyone deserves that, especially you.”

That January, however, wasn’t spent at the prison, but in a settlement called Alexandria, at war with a group called the Saviors. Nothing at that time was settled, and Daryl’s birthday went by without a second thought, though you secretly kept track, and snuck him a small note on January sixth that year.

It simply read: Happy fortieth, Daryl. I love you.

A bit blunt, but it was what you felt, and Daryl found himself pouring over that note for months afterwards, not mentioning it to you until he was alone with you, and somehow, from that moment on, it was agreed—you loved each other, and nothing was the same between you after that.

Ten years later, you still loved him, and he still loved you, and you were still trying to get him to celebrate his birthday.

This year was a big one: fifty. You couldn’t believe Daryl was turning fifty, since he hardly even looked forty, and he was so vibrant and youthful to you. At least, when he wasn’t acting so serious, which was quite rare. Though he didn’t think your little astrology book had any truth to it, you wholeheartedly believed Daryl was the epitome of a Capricorn, and this year, you were intent on making the stereotypically stoic sea-goat happy about making it another year around the sun.

The morning started with a birthday tradition—bringing Daryl breakfast in bed.

You trotted carefully across the bedroom, with a tray of pancakes drenched in syrup and butter, and a side of crispy bacon to balance out the sweetness. A glass of orange juice completed the meal, along with a small bowl of strawberries (cut meticulously into the shapes of hearts, no less).

“Wakey, wakey,” you said sweetly as you placed the tray on the nightstand, and then proceeded to brush Daryl’s hair back from his face as he lay on his side.

He let out a deep, vibrating grumble and flipped himself over so his face was immersed in his pillow. Frowning, you rubbed his bare back, patting it a few times.

“Don’t tell me the birthday boy’s grumpy,” you said, to which he made another grumble.

“Ain’t my birthday,” he said, which he said every year. The whole conversation was basically a carbon copy of last year, and the year before that, and the year before that… “No birthdays in the apocalypse.”

“Yes there are,” you said with your hands on your hips. “If you don’t turn your stubborn ass around, you’re not getting your birthday kisses.”

Another tradition, one Daryl actually looked forward to the most, besides the birthday sex, was the birthday kisses. Every year on Daryl’s birthday after you got together, you gave him as many kisses as years he was turning, usually on every square inch of his face and neck. You had heard some people did spankings instead of kisses, but you couldn’t quite see Daryl enjoying you spanking him.

He groaned and slowly flipped himself over, blinking his eyes sleepily and yawning. “Come ‘ere,” he said.

Peeling off your housecoat and kicking off your slippers, you raised yourself onto the bed and straddled his lap before leaning down to begin your pecking.

He held you there by your waist, and smiled against your first kiss. “One,” you said. “Two.” Another on his cheek. “Three,” and so on…

As usual, by the time you got to about thirty, his tough exterior began to wither away, betrayed by a wide, toothy grin and a boyish laugh, a side of Daryl seldom seen by anyone, besides you.

You took an exaggerated deep breath before bestowing the final fiftieth kiss on his lips, as usual, with this one being much longer and more intimate. He returned your kiss eagerly, running his warm hands up and down your back and attempting to pull down the straps of your nightgown, a gesture which caused you to pull away and smirk at him teasingly.

“Not yet, bad birthday boy,” you said. “You have to open your other presents first.”

He rolled his eyes. “What other presents? Can’t I just have my girl?” He ran his hands down and squeezed your butt, eliciting a half-hearted yelp from you.

“Stop it!” you cried. “This isn’t like you at all. You’re supposed to be a serious, responsible Capricorn. If you keep acting out I’ll try to figure out your birth chart again.”

“No,” he quickly said. “Jus’ get the presents.”

Daryl knew the drill by now—breakfast in bed, birthday kisses, presents, and then (usually) sex. Since it was always snowing on Daryl’s birthday, there typically wasn’t much to do around Alexandria that day, and everyone who didn’t have watch duty was expected to stay inside where it was warm. Due to your insistence that Daryl stay home on his birthdays, he never went on watch, so he was relegated to staying inside, or maybe going for a snowy stroll with you if the conditions weren’t too inclement.

The whole situation was lucky for you, since you liked to spoil him on his birthdays, trying to constantly outdo yourself each year with your presents, and Daryl didn’t mind it either, even if he pretended like he wished he could be doing something more useful (“typical Capricorn,” you’d say).

Daryl scarfed down a third of his breakfast before you brought all of his presents into the bedroom from the hall closet, where you were keeping them until he could open them.

This year, you had several medium sized boxes adorned in birthday-themed wrapping paper, and one with handmade paper with the scrawl HAPPY BIRTHDAY UNCLE DARYL in multi-colored crayon (a present from the children of Alexandria, of course).

You set them all down at his feet on the bed as he ate. He paused mid-bite with wide eyes when he saw everything piled up. It was the biggest bunch of presents he’d ever received. “This all for me?” he asked, as if ashamed of how many things he was getting.

You laughed as you sat down next to him on the bed. “Of course!” You kissed his forehead, then took a piece of bacon from his plate for yourself. “You deserve it. Open the one from the kids first.” You handed him the clumsily wrapped box, and he ripped it open just as Dog was leaping onto the bed and trying to eat the remainder of his breakfast (another birthday tradition).

“Dog!” you yelled as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him away before he could lick the plate clean. “Bad boy!”

Daryl shook his head with a smile as you restrained Dog, and continued opening his gift. It was a small clay sculpture of Daryl, or what could be assumed to be Daryl, holding his crossbow, with Dog by his side. It was painted crudely, presumably by several pairs of hands as they each took turns painting different parts of him. You watched his face light up as he turned the little “action figure” in his hands and laughed.

“It’s me,” he said with an amused grin. “They got Dog, too.”

“And your vest and your bow.” You pointed to the little angel-winged garment and the clay weapon in the figure’s hands. “They said they want you to put him on the mantle in our living room.”

“I will,” he said with a nod, and carefully placed the figurine on the nightstand.

You handed him the next several presents, each of which alternated between practical and personal, with a new pair of work boots and a scrapbook of photographs you’d taken with him throughout the year, to name a few.

By the time he was done, there was a look of blissful exhaustion on his face, and he shook his head at you as he pet Dog. “Why’d ya get me all that stuff?” he asked. “Don’t gotta go out on runs for me.”

Here we go, you thought. Another year, another round of Daryl worrying that you got yourself hurt going out to get things for him on secret runs. You always found it rather funny, since if the world was normal, he’d be worrying that you spent too much money on him. In this world, however, there wasn’t any money to speak of, just the risk of dying whenever you left the safety of Alexandria’s walls.

You scooted closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder, causing Dog to scurry away and lay down at the foot of the bed, where he usually slept when both of you were in bed. “Daryl, it was nothing. Besides, you deserve it, after all you’ve done for me, for everyone.”

He lowered his head in humility. “Nah,” he said. “You done a lot more for me than I could ever do.”

You brushed a few long strands of brown hair back behind his ear. “Why do you say that?”

He shrugged. “‘Cause I don’t think I’d be alive without ya.”

“Don’t say that,” you said. “You’ve saved my life plenty more times than I’ve saved yours.”

“Not like that,” he said. “You… keep me alive. Give me a reason, ya know?”

You closed your eyes and smiled as you snuggled closer to him. He always knew how to sweet talk you, even if he didn’t necessarily do it on purpose. He was just so naturally kind like that. “Oh, Daryl,” you hummed. “You keep me alive, too… you dirty old man.”

He nudged you in the side half-heartedly. “Shut up,” he said with a laugh. “I’m here barin’ my damn soul to ya and you call me a dirty old man. You’re cruel, woman.”

You raised your head and nudged your nose against his, to which he smiled sweetly at you. “I’m just teasing you. So, what was your favorite gift?”

Another tradition: you would ask what Daryl’s favorite gift was, and he’d always say the same thing.

“Your kisses.”

You rolled your eyes, as you always did. “You’re so predictable, you know that?”

In a more unpredictable move, he grabbed you by the waist and used all of his strength to move you on top of him, not without straining himself quite a bit. Maybe he really was becoming an old man, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t still at least try to sweep you off your feet.

“Ain’t that jus’ like a Capricorn, sunshine?” he asked, running his hands up to meet the straps of your nightgown and pulling them down to reveal your breasts.

You smiled and shook your head. “I suppose,” you said.

He tilted his head as he studied your face, the intricate and unique topography of which he had come to know and love so well, every pore and blemish and scar that had told the story of your life in this strange time you had spent with him. He always looked at you with nothing but love, but today he seemed to appreciate those fifty years he’d spent on Earth much more than usual, as if getting to that ripe age had been rewarded with the greatest present his experienced mind could conjure up: you.

There wasn’t any doubt in his mind then. He was very glad to be alive, to have been able to see this beautiful January morning, and to spend it with the person who cared most about him, and the person who could make him genuinely, wholeheartedly smile.

“I love you,” he said. “You make me wanna get old.”

You laughed. “Oh, really? How old?”

He closed one eye and quirked his lip as he broke into his thinking face. “Hell, till I’m a hundred. Long as I got you.”

“Whoa,” you said. “I’m not sure I can handle you at a hundred, mister. I’d have to give you fifty more kisses.”

He pulled you down by your arms and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with a sudden passion and intimacy that surprised even himself. Truly, this year was different—Daryl was happy to be turning a year older for once, all because aging with you made it so much more tolerable.

“Better start practicin’, hon.”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus

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a1most-perfec7 · 3 years ago

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Norman Bates x fem reader - smut

a/n: this is old, I was (a few months ago) absolutely obsessed with Norman and the idea of cock warming. this is, needless to say, my first attempt at writing smut, so it's probably God awful. I hope you enjoy, none the less.

Your gaze fixes on the body ahead of you. Norman goes back and forth between the sweet treats plated on the table, the sight warming your heart by how wholesome he is. He finally settles on something pink when his eyes snap up to meet yours, a glint of curiosity shining through his gaze.

He smiles before he begins, "You've been staring at me for the last half hour, Y/N, is there something the matter?" You turn your head to the side while taking you lip between your teeth as a smirk tugs at your mouth. "No. It's nothing, really." You shrug.

He's not convinced and with an out stretched leg, he reaches across from under the table and gently taps his covered foot against your bare one. "Penny for your thoughts?" He tries, taking a nibble at his sweet, still tapping at your foot. "I don't know." You drawl with a burning blush creeping on your cheeks. "It's kind of embarrassing." You admit, suddenly becoming incredibly self conscious, with your hands coming up to shield your face. The tapping ceases and Norman let's out an amused scoff, placing his sweet treat down.

"I'm sure whatever it is you can tell me." There's a hint of worry in his voice, but your current state suggests something more wholesome...

"I want to try cock warming." You blurt.

Or perhaps not.

Suddenly thankful he hadn't the sweet in hand, Norman insists on an explanation. "I'm sorry, dear umm... what did you say?" He stutters with his own burning blush creeping upon his cheeks. "I want to try cock warming." You start slowly, a hand peeling away from your face and onto the table. "In the bedroom, of course." Your hand reaches over to his. "With you."

Still wide eyed, he cleans the last few crumbs off his sweater. "Ahem, that's what I thought you said." He says quietly under his breath. Norman's head is buzzing with the sudden change of topic, especially in the dining room. He's internally battling with lewd thoughts that conflict his current setting. Subjects like this should be discussed in the bedroom, he thought.

"I only want to try it, please." You plead before he can completely dismiss the idea. "Just a one time, please." You beg. Norman's lips pull together in uncertainty. "I don't know." He begins but you interrupt. "Just once, Norman, please. And if it doesn't work for either of us, then we don't have to do it again."

Your pouty lips and glossy eyes bore at his being. He takes your hand on the table in his, releasing a shaky sigh he didn't known he was holding. Norman looks at you with a small smile growing on his lips. "Okay, we can try it." Before he can even finish, your lips are on his the instant you have your answer.

Many sensual kisses had passed between you and Norman that led to him buried between your legs. The first few minuets saw short, uneven breaths and sighs between you. Norman had taken a while to settle down, panting desperately in your ear with the occasional whine of pleasure.

Barely settled yourself, but far more controlled, you kiss the sides of his temple while running your fingers through his soft locks, nails grazing at his scalp to calm him. You shush him gently. "You're doing great, Norman. Really, really, good." You sigh, long and breathy. There's an amused tone in your voice that only makes Norman's blush reach the very tips of his ears.

A short while passes by with Norman and yourself pressed chest to chest. You've long since distracted him with gentle, tickling kisses up his neck and along his jawline. Your foot wraps around his leg, and you trail your heel from the back of his ankle up the length of his leg. The motion causes you to spread further open with your leg now hiked to the side under the covers.

Unexpectedly, Norman feels himself slip further into you with an abrupt gasp. You moan at the movement, laughing a bit as Norman whines at your instinctual clench on his member. "Y/N, please, this is..." He moans longingly, almost throwing his head back. "This is torture(!)" He bites his lip before his forehead crashes against your shoulder and soon, his lips dance kisses across your collarbone.

You bask in the tense pressue building between you, your teasing leg settling wrapped around his hip bone. "Just a little longer, I promise." Your fingers tugging at the longer hairs on the back at the name of his neck. "Now you're just teasing." He moans, lifting his head from your shoulder, only to see you grinning from ear to ear.

Norman's brows furrow, and with all his willpower to steady himself, he dips his lead down to meet you chest. At first he trails delicate kiss across the skin, before propping himself steady with one arm, his other hands takes a gentle yet eager grasp on your breast. You gasp at the sudden sensation with his fingers rolling the bud teasingly.

"Wait, wait, that's not fair." Your head falls back as a you release a sharp gasp of ecstacy while trying to steady your hips from excessive movement, but they betray you with a sudden buck to meet Norman's hips when his mouth suddenly takes a latch on your other nipple. The warm and wet cavern of his mouth enclosing the bud securely to be tasted by his tongue.

A borderline pornographic moan erupts from your lips at the contact ending with a whine. Norman relishes in the reactions he's gained, you finally having a taste of your own medicine. His lips disconnect with a pop but his nimble fingers remain on your other bud.

Your scrap your nails down his scalp before your hands take place on either side of his face, pulling him towards you. Both of you indulging in a long-awaited passionate kiss that turns lewd when Norman unexpectedly pins you down into the bed with his hips. His length breaching a depth within you that was yet to be explored that night. Your hips betray you again and Norman moans into your mouth before pulling away, gapsing for air.

"Can we be done with this, please Y/N? I need to move." He begs, lips finding your neck once again. You moan at the contact that sends shockwaves through your tensing person, making you bite your lip. "I don't know, Norman. I'm kind of comfortable." You tease breathlessly and flustered, but Norman's kisses turn feral with a simple graze of his teeth against your skin that sends a blaze through your skin.

"Yes, dear God! Norman, you can move! Please move." You gasp.

#norman bates x reader #psycho 1960 #norman bates imagines #norman bates reader insert #slasher x reader #slashers

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darkshadow90 · 2 years ago

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Norman Osborn x daughter reader: You walk in on him talking to himself

Summary: After an awkward Thanksgiving dinner at Aunt May’s, you confront your father about his odd behavior. You walk in on him talking to himself that night. You see a side of him that terrifies you.

A/N: Hey guys. This is a long author’s note. I’m so sorry I haven’t posted anything new in awhile. I’ve been feeling burnt out lately. Having ADHD and long days at work can be really exhausting. I wanted to write something different. I like the idea of Harry having a sister. This takes place during and after the Thanksgiving scene. The reader is one year older than Harry. She comes home for Thanksgiving, and after a very awkward dinner at Aunt May’s, she overhears her father talking to himself. This is the second Norman Osborn one shot I’ve written. I’ve seen a lot of Norman x reader pairings and I wanted to make it clear that the reader is his daughter. I’m not attracted to Norman in that way. I would feel awkward writing those kind of stories because Willem Dafoe is the exact same age as my dad. They were born the same year, so I can’t see Norman as anything but fatherly toward a much younger reader. I hope you understand :) I can’t think of any warnings aside from a brief mention of Harry and reader’s mothers death, the Goblin taunting Norman, and lashing out at reader, but let me know if I missed any.

It was your first day back from school. You were happy to have some time off from working on so many projects, and you’d get to visit Aunt May and Peter. You met up with Harry and MJ, and helped set the table. Harry was a nervous wreck. He wanted everything to be perfect. You and MJ told Harry to relax and everything would be fine. You heard the door buzz and Aunt May let your father inside. “Aunt May, I’m sorry I’m late. Work was murder. I picked up a fruit cake.” “Thank you, Mister Osborn. We’re so glad you could come.” He walked over to Harry and MJ. “Who is this lovely little lady?” “MJ, I’d like you to meet our father, Norman Osborn. Dad, this is Mary Jane Watson.” They greeted and shook hands. Soon you noticed something different about him. He appeared to be checking MJ out. It creeped you out, but before you could say anything, Harry thought he heard Peter upstairs.

All of you went upstairs to Peter’s room. but there was no sign of him. “Bit of a slob, isn’t he?” “Dad!” You were shocked that he would say something so rude about one of your and Harry’s friends. “All brilliant men are.” Aunt May replied. Such a classy lady. You went back downstairs and Peter came through the door. “Hey, everyone. Sorry I’m late. I had to beat an old lady with a stick to get these cranberries.” He joked. You were glad to see Peter had his sense of humor despite it being the first Thanksgiving without Uncle Ben. You had a feeling having everyone together helped keep him occupied. Especially because he was getting ready to move out for college soon. You wanted this to be a nice dinner for everyone. Unfortunately, things went downhill quickly. Aunt May told everyone to sit down, and dinner could finally be served.

You saw your father reach for the candied yams, but before you could say anything, May slapped his hand. He sent her a glare that gave you goosebumps. You’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before. “Norman, would you do the honors?” They both glared at each other. May didn’t take crap from anyone. The look on her face said that she was not afraid to teach him proper manners. He smiled at her in a disturbing way, not taking his eyes off her the whole time he was sharpening the knives to carve the turkey. May smiles and looks at Peter. “Why Peter, you’re bleeding.” You saw blood forming on his shirt sleeve. Your father also noticed it. “Oh, it’s nothing. A bike messenger knocked me over. I’m fine, really.” May opened his sleeve. “That looks awful. I’ll get the first aid kit.” Your father looked afraid when he saw it. “How did you say that happened?” “Bike messenger. Knocked me down.” You father suddenly got up and put his coat on. “If you’ll excuse me, something’s come up.” “Dad, are you alright?” Harry asked. “I’m fine, I’ve to go.” “But you just got here, you can’t leave yet. You’re always working. Can’t you take one day off?” You said. “I said I have to go, Y/N. Stop whining.” You shrunk back in your seat. Your father never snapped at you like that before. “Dad, she was just--” “Mrs. Parker, thank you. Everyone. Enjoy the fruit cake.” Harry went after him.

You heard the whole conversation. “Dad, wait. I set up everything for you meet MJ and now you have to leave?” “I’ve got to go.” “Dad, this girl is important to me.” “Harry, look at her. You think a woman like that is sniffing around because she likes your personality? Your mother was beautiful, too. They’re all beautiful until they come after your trust fund like a pack of wolves.” “You’re wrong about her, dad.” “A word to the not-so-wise about your little girlfriend. Do what you need to then broom her fast.” You couldn’t believe he would say such awful things. This was a side of your father you had never seen before. It didn’t seem like him at all, a completely different person had taken over.

Harry and MJ lashed out at each other and left. You hung your head down in embarrassment and sadness. You apologized and talked about your confusion. You didn’t understand why your father was acting so odd. Peter and May reassured you that you had nothing to apologize for. Peter carved the turkey and you had dinner with them. May packed you some leftovers to take home. “Be careful on your way home, dear.” “I will. Thank you again for everything, Aunt May.” You decided you would confront your father about his terrible behavior. You didn’t understand why he said those awful things to Harry. He always had very high expectations for both of you, but he never called Harry stupid. He loved your mother dearly. He never had a bad thing to say about her. When she got sick, he did everything he could to make sure she had the best medical care. Unfortunately, it didn’t save her. Her passing was difficult on all of you, but he took it the hardest. It made no sense for him to imply she only married him for money. You needed to know what was going on with him. You made it home and put the leftovers in the fridge.

The mansion was unsettling when it seemed like no one was there. “Dad, I’m home. I need to talk to you about what happened today.” There wasn’t a sound to be heard. You kept looking for him. Eventually you heard someone talking. It was coming from the living room. You couldn’t make out everything that was being said. You stood at the entrance and watched terrified of what you saw. Your father was on the floor facing the chair. He was talking to himself. You saw the Green Goblin mask hanging on the chair. The realization made your heart sink. It meant he was the Green Goblin. He was responsible for Doctor Stromm’s death. He killed the board members at the parade. “Parker will have to wait, Osborn. We have company.” He turned around to face you. You were too paralyzed with fear to do anything. “It was you! All this time, it was you! You’re the Green Goblin?!” “Y/N, sweetheart, let me explain--” “No! Stay away!” You didn’t know, but he was fighting an internal battle. He was trying to stop the Goblin from taking over.

The Goblin spoke to your father in his head. ‘Take care of her, Osborn. If you don’t, I will. I won’t allow anyone to get in our way. Not even your children.’ “No! Leave them alone!” You were very confused. “Dad? What’s going on?” He saw the look of fear in your eyes and it broke his heart. The Goblin taunted him. ‘Go on, Osborn. Tell her everything. Stop hiding. Show her who you really are.’ The Goblin cackled as the struggle continued. “Dad, I want to talk to you about the things you said today.” He closed his eyes. He looked like he was in pain, hunched over as if he was about to collapse. You went over to him. “Dad--” “What? What are you gonna whine about this time?” He shouted at you. He never shouted at you like that. You noticed something different about him in that brief moment. He had the same blue eyes, but they weren’t his. They were different. The tone of voice was completely different, too. Whoever this person was, it wasn’t your father.

When he saw tears in your blue eyes, he was confused. Tears were streaming down your face. “Y/N, honey? Oh no. What did he do?” He said that last part more to himself than to you. “Who’s he? Dad, what’s going on with you? Why did you say those awful things at May’s? You called Peter a slob. You said MJ is only dating Harry for the money. You said the same thing about mom! Why would you say that about her? You loved her. You called Harry stupid, and now you’re shouting at me for no reason!” He looked at you with confusion and heartbreak. He knew it was the Goblin who said those things. He didn’t remember saying any of it. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t explain everything right now. It wasn’t me who said those things. I think something is wrong with me. Sometimes I’m...someone else. I have no control or memory over what he says and does. I remember greeting MJ, greeting Peter, seeing the injury on his arm, and leaving. I don’t remember anything else.” You were still a little confused, but you understood some of what he was saying. It made sense. “So is it like some kind of alternate personality?” “Yes. I need you to stay in the penthouse with Harry. Can you do that until I get to the bottom of all this, sweetheart?” You nodded and he hugged you. “I’ll be back. I love you both.” He left in a hurry. You were alone to contemplate everything, both afraid for your father and scared of whatever this alternate personality was.

#Norman Osborn #Green Goblin #spider-man #spiderman sam raimi #norman osborn x reader #spiderman 2002 #willem dafoe

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cultofbeatles · 4 years ago

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parts of pete shotton’s book “john lennon: in my life” that stood out to me

(this is semi long and contains book spoilers)

john and pete being the first people ever to get banned from their church

pete saying john would always share any candy he had with everyone around, but that he would maybe give john one piece of candy

they held a competition to see who could go the longest without swearing and they both spent so much time focusing on not swearing that they sat in silence

tw blood/cutting: wanting to do a blood oath and cut their wrists to be “blood brothers” but john brought a dull knife that wouldn't cut so they pretended to do it

being pyromaniacs (seriously)

john crawling out of all fours and groaning after being canned and making pete get canned even worse because he was laughing

john being known to pee himself when laughing

john daydreaming while he was riding his bike, crashing into a parked car, catapulted into the air, hurt his arm pretty bad, but his main concern was the damage to his bike

they once had a serious fight where pete was about to step on john’s glasses but intentionally missed just to tease john

persuading their classmates to wear white dog collars that they made in class

eleven year old john making pete watch him orgasm

pete and john having sex with their girlfriends in the same bed

john going through great lengths to avoid dancing because he was horrible at it

john and paul’s first introduction being awkward as they both just stood there

pete asking paul if he’ll join the band: “a full minute passed while paul pretended to give the matter careful thought: “oh, all right.” he finally shrugged.”

mimi slamming the door in paul’s face whenever john wasn't there to stop her

george just pushing himself into the band because he wanted to be there

paul, george, and john wearing buckets on their head and marching around on paul’s roof to make fun of pete’s cadet graduation ceremony

one night after julia’s death pete found john completely passed out drunk on a bus and found out that he had been on it for hours. he took him home and tucked him into bed.

john saying that he wrote in my life with pete and stuart in mind

cynthia scolding john for saying something outrageous and then john saying something even more outrageous

the quote, “john bamboozled his new soulmate” in reference to making stuart use his art show money to buy a bass

brian epstein asking if pete wanted to come back to his house for sex and pete turning him down but following with, “no offense taken. actually, i take it as a compliment!”

calling ringo a runt

“what’s a fucking wank between friends anyways?” - pete shotton

brian having a reminder of “haircut for george” on his desk because he was in charge of their grooming needs

john giving pete one of his big beatles paychecks so he had money for christmas

john asking pete “isn't he lovely?” when first meeting julian

john screaming “hi pete!” at a show because he told the staff to let him know whenever pete arrived

john hated to be touched and especially by strangers

john wanted to open his book in his own write with a dedication to pete saying “to pete, who got it first.” but didn't want to hurt mimi’s feelings so he drew a caricature of pete at the beginning and that’s how he dedicated it to him secretly

pete telling john he would never go to a interviewer and talk about john for money. (he only talked to two authors about john. hunter davies, who he asked john for permission for, and philip norman. who told pete that he was only writing a book about liverpool pop music)

cynthia and john getting in an argument because she wanted a porsche and john said they're too dangerous

paul was the beatle that was the hardest to get close to

george’s proudest possession was a painting by bob dylan and he had a guitar shaped pool

“there never was, and probably never will be, a group more self contained or tightly knit than the beatles were in those days..”

john loved a good pun joke

john loved hanging out with the monkees and micky dolenz was the craziest one

“the only thing john hated more than going to bed at night was getting out of it the next day.” MOOD.

john would literally read every single page of the newspaper

he once saw a tv program talking about autistic kids and donated 1,000 pounds to an autistic foundation

john making a random guest give him their sgt pepper album so pete could get one

the beatles almost showed up to brian’s memorial service in bright colorful clothes for “good vibes”

tw suicide: john was convinced brian committed suicide

george telling pete he use to think he was a “bad influence” on john

paul thought magical mystery tour was going to be a big masterpiece

at beatles financial meetings: paul doodling, john high on lsd, ringo asleep in the corner, george actually paying attention

bill turner (childhood friend of theirs) telling paul he didn't like hello, goodbye and paul being taken back by that

the beatles bought pete a car (jaguar to be specific)

john was very insecure around girls and never knew if they liked him or not

john thinking his housekeeper would assume him and pete were having sex because they were laying next to each other

pete was actually happy at first when john and yoko got together because john was happy

any time john and pete would be laughing together yoko would silence John

the beatles had to constantly tell ringo he was the best rock drummer in the world before he agreed to join the band again

paul asking pete if hey jude or revolution should be on the A side, pete saying hey jude, and then paul immediately screaming to john that pete picked his song over john’s.

there was so many arguments with yoko that would have to be another post itself but i will say it’s awful

george running after the press in his backyard because he took a photo of him while the police chase george around to arrest him for possession of drugs

“remember pete, they can't kill you for speaking your mind.” - john lennon

when pete found out about john’s death he went to visit george

“on the drive back home, memories of john flooded into my head. what a life, i thought.” <3

#this book is gold #please read it #Pete shotton I love you #I cried again typing this out #now onto geoff's book #the beatles #the beatles master list #the beatles books #John lennon #pete shotton #yoko ono #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #the beatles facts

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stevetonyweekly · 4 years ago

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SteveTony Weekly - May 2

I know I say every week that I read a lot this week but I have been indulging in my favorite coping technique and so this list is ridiculously long. Twitter encouraged me. Blame them.

**Indicates my recent favs

~*~

On the inherent homoeroticism of cake decoration by welcoming_disaster (616/8K)

“She’s matchmaking, Barton,” Carol sighed.

“We,” Thor corrected, thumping himself hard in the chest, “art matchmaking.”

“Who, Cap n’ Tony?” Clint asked, his mouth full.

“Cap and Tony,” Janet confirmed, cutting herself a thin slice of egg and gently depositing it on her whole grain avocado toast, “it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Wait, I thought they were—“ Clint frowned, glancing around the room as though to confirm. Nothing but confused faces met his questioning gaze. “Huh. I really thought they were fucking.”

“And there is the crux of the issue,” Jess licked a bit of spaghetti sauce off her lip.

“Aye,” agreed Thor, “there’s rub.”

-----------

The team tries to set up Steve and Tony. Things don't go as planned.

Baby lovers like you and me (never say die) by FestiveFerret (Old Guard AU/7.5K)

The Avengers. They'd found him frozen in the ice, told him he was immortal, of all things. And with the way he'd lived through seventy years deep in the Atlantic, he found himself inclined to believe them. They'd also been very… convincing.

Without question, they integrated him into their unit - The Avengers, a secret team of unkillables seeking wrongs around the world and making them right, supported and housed by an enigmatic billionaire named Tony Stark. Their immortality, it seemed, was a secret to everyone but him.

Ready, set, bake by ChocolateCapCookie (Great British Bake Off/11k)

The Avengers are on a nationally televised baking competition, but nobody seems to have warned the producers that the Avengers, while they save the world everyday and put their loves at risk doing so, are a) insanely competitive, and b) absolutely terrible bakers. Steve Rogers, especially, has a competitive streak a mile wide, and he's determined to win this competition, but it's not easy when his only real opponent is also the man he's been in love with for years.

***To make flowers grow (in this barren heart) by SoldiersShield, KakushiMiko (Hanahaki AU/16K)

“You hide yourself away in your technology, but you are just as human as the rest of them. Your heart betrays your desire to possess.” Her gaze falls to the arc reactor, and Tony's blood runs cold in his veins.

“The Earth will reclaim what we have lost,” she says, dragging a hand over the chestplate of the armor. “It is you, and your kind-- your greed that pulls life from the soil as if it were nothing. You will reap what you have sown, Stark. The avarice in your heart will strangle the very life out of you.” Arna meets his eyes once more, a serene smile on her face as she leans forward.

“I hope he is worth dying for,” she murmurs, before digging her hand into his ribcage.

(Tony Stark falls in love with Steve Rogers. A rogue enchantress ensures he pays for it.)

Shelter from the storm by silkspectred (KidFic/5k)

Tony adopts a baby. Guess who's Majorly Fucked Up™ about it.

Keep on beating by itsallAvengers (Domestic Fluff/6K)

There were an awful lot of things Steve loved about Tony. But one thing in particular Steve could never get enough of was his heartbeat.

The good or bad thing by petreparkour (Multiverse/10k)

“It’s the metal suit,” Thor informed Steve, his normally-booming voice tinny over the SHIELD comms. “What did Stark call it—Iron Man?”

“But he’s down here,” Steve protested as the Hulk roared in Stark’s face, startling him into waking with a shout. “How could—”

“It’s damaged,” Thor reported. “But it looks different. More advanced. And he—ah. He’s carrying you, Captain.”

“Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark breathed out, and then Stark’s voice suddenly came over the comms, but the man lying next to him hadn’t moved.

“Guys, come on, you’re killing me here. What is it, 2012? God, I hate time travel. First, I'm fighting Thanos. Now, I have to deal with my past self and Thor's bad haircut? Oh my God, Cap, yes I hacked their comms, they’re my comms.”

Steve nearly opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t said anything when he realized that this replica of Tony Stark wasn’t speaking to him.

***The tipping point by nightwalker (Domestic Fluff/7K)

Tony has a few quirks. Steve's still trying to figure them all out.

We two, how long we were fool’d by glassessay (Soulmate AU/9K)

Steve Rogers comes into the world as unblemished as his mother. When Anthony Stark is born, his soulmark is an obvious pattern of ink across his tiny chest.

It only takes a century, two names, and a shared love of Walt Whitman for them to find each other.

The tape in the cave by betheflame (Canon Divergent/5K)

Steve had no idea what was happening.

“You think I didn’t know that?”

Tony was staring Zemo down as though the Sokovian was actual vermin - which, Steve reflected, he kind of was.

“You think that I,” Tony continued, not hiding the sneer in his voice, “Anthony Stark, who has more powerful technology in my literal fingers than most nations have, that I wouldn’t know everything possible about how my parents died? That I wouldn’t know it wasn’t an accident, that your silly little HYDRA Nazi knock-off pals are the ones who murdered them? Please, you are pathetic.”

Happy ending by Robin_tCJ (No-Powers AU/28K)

Steve is a mobile massage therapist, and Tony is a stressed billionaire. What could go wrong?

With a decent happiness by torigates (Teacher AU/16K)

Tony Stark is Iron Man. Steve Rogers isn't, and never was Captain America.

Or, the one where everything is the same except Steve is a kindergarten teacher.

Nothing left but scars by SailorChibi (MCU/6.7K) - Reread

Steve wakes up to the fact that no one ever compliments or even says thank you to Tony, and that he has fallen into the same trap of painting Tony with a specific paintbrush.

This is how he showers a very confused Tony with praise to make up for it.

Our hearts should remember and follow by frostfall (MCU/5K)

Steve hums. “I didn’t know you could play. Or sing. Don’t think I’ve heard anyone mention it before.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s one of the few things, skills, I don’t flaunt. Not something people are interested in, anyway. Not gonna sway any board members by playing fucking Für Elise for them. Sides’, there’s a high chance I wouldn’t even play. Well, maybe if you get me drunk enough and near an instrument. Then, I might reconsider.”

(After a dream leaves Tony rattled, he turns to the piano as a way to distract himself.)

Finally, you and me by pensversusswords (Multiverse/10K)

Because in every layer of time, in every conceivable dimension, he was always meant to love Steve.

By some miracle, Steve was meant to love him back.

***Full disclosure not required (but appreciated) by Potrix (Identity Porn/16k)

The one where Steve knows more than he lets on, Tony knows less than he pretends, Clint has a big mouth, Bucky is a little shit, and everyone learns why keeping secrets never ends well.

Almost never, anyway.

Heartlines by nanasekei (MCU/7.9K)

“Let me,” Tony repeats. He regrets it deeply, so much, he wants to stick the words back into his mouth again, and it must show, in the way his voice wavers. He feels exposed, all of a sudden, as if he’s asking something bigger than what he can actually say. Let me touch you, let me take care of you. “Just… Let me do it.”

i found a way to let you in, but i never really had a doubt (marriage series) by quidhitch (Marriage Series/16k)

Tony Stark doesn’t believe in marriage. It’s nobody’s fault. —Well, it’s Howard's fault, probably, but Tony doesn’t like to think about that for too long, finds that it dredges up all sorts of issues he’d rather keep buried under a mountain of strategically employed sarcasm, humorous self-deprecation, and the occasionally effective substance abuse.

***Hide your love away by sineala (Soulmate/33K) - Reread

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever.

When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

Break the chain (can’t live in circles again) by orphan_account (FWB/19K)

There had been seven amazing weeks of dating Steve Rogers before Tony realised that they weren’t dating at all. And then it was a scramble to adjust to the situation as it had always been: being Steve’s friend-with-benefits.

And if Steve seemed a little confused and bewildered by the way Tony was acting, well. Tony was probably just misreading that, too.

Five times steve and tony (tried to) bail each other out of jail by Teyke (MCU/6k)

Twice before Civil War, twice after, and once during. For very loose definitions of both 'bail' and 'jail'.

Cracked hearts under iron ribs by XtaticPearl (Established Relationship/14k)

Rhodey is away for almost six months now and comes to meet Tony after the mission. He doesn't understand the domesticity of the whole Tower and unknowingly sets off a whole truck of insecurities which make Tony crawl back into being a Stark instead of just Tony. The team is not at all happy and Rhodey joins them in trying to figure out a way to help their resident genius feel better in his skin.

The single biggest problem with communication by BlossomsintheMist (616/108K)

In the wake of Steve's return from the dead and the end of Norman Osborn's reign of terror, the superhero community is recovering--Steve has taken on a new role and Tony is trying to put his life back together. Things are still awkward between them, but they're determined to put things to rights. But when a discussion about their feelings leads to further misunderstandings, they discover that might be more difficult than either of them realized. Set in the early Heroic Age after the end of Dark Reign, this is a get-together story about crossed wires--and second chances.

What are friends for? by bobertsmallismydad (MCU /2.8K)

In which Steve is targeted by a virus. Will the Avengers be able to save him in time?

Starving by festiveferret (Vampire AU/2K)

Steve woke up starving.

***Everybody wonders (What it would be like to love you) by SoldiersShield (MCU/3K)

“...Is that what this is about?” He asks slowly. Steve blanches.

“Oh my god. It is.” Tony has no right looking as giddy as he does. “Steven Grant Rogers, are you jealous?”

Or: Steve and Tony have been dancing around each other for a while now, and Steve's rather content with it. Attending a gala together just might change that.

Re(A)d all over by brandnewfashion, MusicalLuna (Drunk Flirting/3k)

Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark can blush.

It just takes Steve getting drunk on some magical Asgardian mead for it to finally happen.

***The Do-over Proposal by nightwalker (Established Relationship/1.2k)

Steve wants to go on a journey, Tony doesn't think it's a good time, and Bucky needs to beat some sense into both these idiots.

A Winter’s Ball by alliejowrites (Victorian AU/3.8K)

Steve moves to London in search of a patron, so that he can finally devote himself to painting. He is not expecting everything he finds upon meeting Lord Stark. A fluffy little Victorian AU. One-shot.

What’s a fanfic by starksnack (AvAc/1K)

Kamala introduces Tony and Steve to the world of fanfiction. There is a surprising amount of content about them being gay.

#stony #superhusbands #stevetony fic #stevetony weekly #stevetony #fic recs #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #captain ameria

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chidoroki · 4 years ago

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TPN - “Dreams Come True”

What better way to cheer up the TPN fandom after the second season’s final episode than with the special exhibition chapter finally being fully translated. I caught glimpses of a few pages here and there over the past couple months but seeing all the children live happily together in the human world in their own little village that they made close to Emma and Alex warms my heart. Of course I would’ve loved if we got to see more of the GP Resistance (because the anime denied us of them) but following the GF kids around the world as they experience their dreams is fair enough. We started the series alongside them so might as well finish strong with them too. I really loved seeing everyone grow up but no matter how old they get or how much time passes, I’ll probably never get used to seeing Emma without her iconic “63194.” It’s a bittersweet feeling for me, but her smiles bring me so much joy and I’m beyond happy that she accepted everyone into her life as they accepted her without her memories.

I haven’t a clue on how much time passed since everyone found Emma in ch181 to now, but seeing her call out everyone’s names is a little detail that I love so much considering she had no idea who anyone was at first. Trying to remember 60+ names doesn’t seem like an easy task to me. No doubt I was just as shocked as our girl upon learning these mere children bought a goddamn plane! We learn in a couple pages that it’s because of Norman’s company that they can afford it, but still, he’s like 15 or 16 now? He’s still a child! And I’m impressed! Not only at him, but that Oliver and Violet became pilots as well! It’s especially cute when you remember that Lucas gave Oliver a little toy plane during their time at Goldy Pond.

Speaking of GP, is it just me or does Emma’s current outfit resemble her GP one just a little bit? Sure we have no idea what color scheme this one has but come on, the short jacket, the dark shirt and jeans.. just imagine it! Jemima, Yvette, Alicia and Mark remade Gillian’s original GP outfit sometime before the Grace Field Raid arc (ch137 extra page) so I don’t doubt they could’ve done the same for Emma. Of course that’s just me being completely hopeful and missing the Goldy Pond arc to death but yeah! I’m also so happy to see Chris up and moving again! Seeing him wake up briefly in ch181 was nice but this is so much better. I imagine he and Emma have a lot to catch up on in terms of stories, with him being unconscious since ch105 and Emma not remembering anything.

But here we go, the original 15 escapees plus Norman, Phil, Sherry, I believe I saw Carol somewhere and a couple other random kiddos ready to see the entire world. They get to accomplish so much.. and in a single day too I believe? At least that’s what Phil and Alicia say a bit later about everyone’s wishes, but aahh what a lucky bunch. Hell, I’ll say we’re lucky readers too to be able to see such a great story. Can’t thank Shirai and Demizu enough y’all. I wish we got to see more of Alex though. He’s such a kind soul but I’m sure he’ll be just fine staying behind with everyone else.

This entire page where we learn about Norman as a CEO is gold. I still can’t believe this child successfully built up an entire multipurpose company not only to help their search for Emma but also because he didn’t want to live off the Ratri clan. I wish I knew about this last week when writing out Norman’s birthday post because hell yeah this deserves some praise! AND he managed to graduate school as well during all that! Well, by skipping grades which totally makes sense. I mean, if he managed to pass all the Grace Field and Lambda tests effortlessly I’m sure normal human world school was a piece of cake for him. Holy shit dude, keep on impressing me why don’t ya. Not only him but Nigel and Sonya too! I’m not surprised that Vincent helped out but I’m glad those two got a tiny moment to shine as well! Ray is another obvious choice when it comes to helping Norman, as they’re best friends and he’s always been good with machines.. but boy, I can’t take you seriously when you’re just sitting there unamused and eating chips! Hahah I love him so much! And the fact he replies to Norman’s idea with just a simple “kay” is an eternal mood.

Okay boys aside, can we talk about our fabulous girls now? Because oh my god, they’re so darn beautiful! They’re more fashionable than I’ll ever be and it’s so cute how they drag Emma along to take advantage of the 3-for-1 deal. But our girl pulls off that sporty look so well! (r.i.p. goldy pond outfit ver2.0). I’m not at all surprised that Nat wanted to go see the opera. That's perfect for him and I’d like to think the anime did something similar with that one shot we see of him in the human world. We don’t see him in a theater like this but to me it looks like he’s on the streets of Broadway? At least that’s the vibe I get from it. I’m sure there was something music related on one of those signs.

I can’t get over how adorable all the children look and how happy they are fulfilling their wishes, even if some of them aren’t as extravagant as others. Like eating a fluffy pancake and a ton of ice cream? We can do that whenever we want. But for these kids, it means everything and they absolutely deserve to experience such simple joys like that after all the harsh nonsense they’ve been through. I also love how Ray continues to be such a great older brother by still looking out for them too. The fact he remains completely unfazed by the haunted house is perfect. This boy has been haunted by his own nightmares and demons his entire life, there’s no way a couple of lousy jump scares are gonna spook him. Though I do find it funny that Alicia and Rossi still manage to get scared while Yvette is having the time of her life. I can’t help but laugh at Thoma’s “Shirai face” as well.

I find it interesting that out of all the different kinds of exhibits they could’ve shown us while Rossi visits a museum, they give us dinosaurs.. like that seems so silly to me. Y’all have seen several demons in your young lives already and yet dinosaurs manage to amaze you too? God these kids are precious. And then our boy Phil finally gets to see and ride a train! Just look how happy he is! The poor kid can’t even sit still he’s so darn excited and I can’t help but smile with him! Thankfully the anime showed us this too.

We eventually get to Ray’s wish and guys.. oh my fucking god. Tell me that this is not the absolute best and prettiest smile we get to see from him!! It honestly leaves me speechless okay? Ray never imagined he would ever get to see the outside world, let alone live past the age of 12, and yet here he is, seeing such a beautiful sight such as this, right in front of him instead of from inside a book. You can’t believe how happy and proud of him I am right now. Did you see how ecstatic I was when the anime kept Isabella alive? Multiply that feeling by ten and there ya go. That’s my level of happiness upon seeing my favorite boy smile like THAT! AAHHH!! That panel is gonna live rent free in my head until the end of time. I can’t get over how damn perfect it is. His smile is so pure and how he looks like he’s in complete awe is beautiful. He’s about to burst into tears and I swear I might do the same because I’m making myself emotional over this fantastic boy. Someone hold me.

No seriously, hold me because we’re about to get into some angst as we move onto to Emma’s wish. We all know that ever since 2039 her one dream was to ride a giraffe once they got outside, so here we are, about ten years later and the animals in question are within reach. Our girl should be totally excited, right? Ha, not quite.

That wish was something the old Emma wanted, but since demon god had to be such a bastard, this Emma doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to even feel. She hasn’t experienced the same hardships as her family. She hasn’t gone through hell and back while holding onto that one wish that would make all the suffering worth it. The amount of joy everyone else felt upon living out their dreams, she wonders if she would be able to feel it too.

They brought her here to make her happy, but is this truly want she wants as well? This is old Emma’s wish after all. What about her and what she wants? Could this wish make her just as happy as her old self? She knows her family is only trying to help, but seeing her doubt herself does a number on my heart. Even without her memories, she’s still the same Emma deep down, as she doesn’t want to disappoint her family. She spends so much time worrying about living up to her family’s expectations, to try and be that Emma they all love so dearly.

Little does she know that she acts the exact same as usual, almost as if nothing has changed when she finally expresses how much she wants to ride a giraffe. And that’s great considering when they first arrived at the giraffes, no on had even mentioned riding them. She came across that feeling all on her own and everyone else can’t help but laugh and feel relieved. Her mind may have forgotten but her heart remembers everything. There is no “old Emma” and “new Emma” to her family, just “Emma” and words can’t express how wholesome that is because they love her regardless. All that matters to them is Emma’s happiness because if anyone deserves to feel and experience that, it’s her.

I just made myself tear up, damn it. I started this series with season one okay? I heard about this precious girl’s dream within the first minute of the first episode and here I am, a little bit over two years later, finally reading about it coming true and seeing that bright as hell smile on her face. Do you know how amazing it is to come full circle like that? My heart feels so full right now. I’m beyond proud of her and love her to death. Say what you want but I believe this to be the true manga ending in my eyes.

(damn this series for always getting me emotional)

#the promised neverland #tpn manga #tpn norman #tpn ray #tpn emma #norman #ray #emma #chidoroki used chatter

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write-r-die · 3 years ago

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Prisoner - Part 17

March 1067, Norman Conquest of England

Masterlist

A/N: Drama!!

gif from demivampirew

For the first time in a long time, Thomasin felt safe.

Henry made her promise never to remove the pendant he gave her. It seemed terribly important to him, though Thomasin didn’t know why. Still, she agreed without question.

Henry never did shout at her. He didn’t like being angry, especially with someone he loved. Instead, he sat his wife down like a child and looked very deeply into her grey eyes while simply telling her she would never disobey him again, nor would she disagree with him in public. She was welcome to shout and scream and call him all sorts of names when they were alone together, but their situation was precarious. They had to present a united front so no one – just Lawrence, really – would think to pit them against each other.

Lawrence, though, seemed the same as ever. Maybe even scarier. He always had that awful grin on his face. He never got red; that’s what really worried both Henry and Tom. He was too calm, too self-assured. He planned out what he would do to them; now they were stuck in fear until he decided to act. It had only been a week since the wedding, and there was no telling how long Lawrence would wait. But he wasn’t a patient man.

Henry didn’t let Thomasin see his fear over Lawrence’s retribution. Since the wedding, she’d become all soft and willing. He thought she showed something akin to vulnerability. When they were alone, she would sit on his lap or press herself right against his side. They needed to be touching when they went to sleep, either with Henry spooning against her back or Thomasin lounging across his chest. She demanded his attention and affection. Henry obliged her, even going beyond. He’d kiss her in public when he thought no one was looking. She didn’t even mind.

He met her vulnerability with steady confidence. He’d sworn to look after her more times than he could count, and now that she was finally allowing it, he didn’t want to show any weakness. That was what husbands did for their wives – they remained strong and sure.

Henry asked a baron sailing back to Normandy to deliver the message to his family that he was wed; he was quite sure his mother would cry upon hearing the news.

“Should we send someone to tell your family?” he asked that night as he and Tom lay in the dark together. He was pressed tightly against Thomasin’s back. She used one of his arms as a pillow, and his free hand roamed over her body.

“I haven’t got a family,” Thomasin replied.

Henry nuzzled her rosy gold hair. “Yes, you do.” He kissed the back of her neck and sighed into her hair. “And you’ll never be rid of me.”

When the king finally summoned Henry, it wasn’t to chastise him. If he did mean to shout at Henry, it was low on his list of things to do. Henry found himself in something of a war council among other barons and knights of high praise.

“It is time to execute the Saxons,” William announced. “I’ve kept them alive for too long. It will embolden other rebels to attack if they believe I won’t kill them.”

“The rebels are all but gone,” a middle-aged baron said. “Even that young baron from the north has disappeared.” He looked at Henry from the corner of his eye; everyone knew he was referring to Hammond.

“Permanent imprisonment is not much better than death,” another put in.

“All the same,” said the king. “The surviving Saxon prisoners will be put to death by hanging this afternoon. I expect you all to bear witness.”

“What about our wives?” a knight asked. Henry was grateful someone other than him asked the question. “Should they attend?”

William shook his head. “Tis no sight for a woman’s eyes.” He took a deep breath before declaring, “It is warm enough now to travel. We will hunt down the other rebels. If we cannot capture or kill them, we will at least run them out of England and keep them in exile for the rest of their lives.”

The men started shuffling out, murmuring to each other about the Saxon threat. Henry lagged behind the crowd, too lost in his thoughts to keep a fast pace. He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice when Lawrence sidled up beside him.

Lawrence made a sound like a sigh. “I do hope poor Tom won’t be too broken up over Cerdic’s execution.”

Henry felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. How did he find out about Thomasin’s relationship with Cerdic? How much did he know about it? What execution? Was that why the barons and knights were gathering?

But the true source of his fury was the fact that Lawrence had referred to his wife as Tom.

Lawrence looked at Henry from the corner of his eye. “Are you broken up, dear Henry?”

He turned his gaze to the other man, a savage look in his eyes. “You will never speak my wife’s name again. Do you understand me?”

Lawrence bowed his head in mock apology before moving along.

Henry paused in a nook in the corridor and ran his hand over his face. Damn.

Coming to England was like stepping in dog shit that one could never quite wipe away. Meeting Thomasin was like stepping in dog shit. One bad thing followed another like a cloying stink with that poor girl.

No, Henry realized. Thomasin meeting him when the troubles started.

***

Thomasin was grateful that Henry had been able to spend both his days and his nights with her. She knew it could not last forever, but she was sad all the same when he was called away, no doubt to discuss matters of war.

Now she would have to spend her days embroidering with other ladies or pursuing some other womanly hobby. She was never terribly good at that, though. At one point, her governess simply gave up trying to make Thomasin a proper lady. Her father let her have free reign of the estate so long as someone was always nearby and she returned to the keep by dark.

She imagined having a similar arrangement with Henry, but they first needed an estate of their own. Everyone assumed the king would give them the estate Thomasin grew up in, but she secretly hoped he would not. It would be haunted, at least for her, and she was sure she would never feel comfortable there. It wasn’t her home anymore. Just another conquered fortress.

The couple spoke a little of returning to Normandy so Tom could meet Henry’s family and there were some vague mentions of estates near his brothers that might be suitable for their needs, but they hadn’t had a real conversation about it. What they wanted didn’t matter; William would likely keep Henry in England to fight his endless war against Thomasin’s way of life. Maybe they would be dismissed in a few years when things were calmer.

She would have to figure out how to spend her days. Her only true friend at court was Elaine, but the healer was often busy during the day. Thomasin accompanied her on a meeting with an elderly baroness with a horrifying rash; she would never do so again.

She was returning from a brisk walk when she nearly crashed into her husband and his friends on their way out.

“Henry!” Thomasin bounced forward and grabbed onto his hand. She waited for him to kiss her while Charlie and Roger were pretending not to look. She knew something was wrong when he didn’t. “Are you well?”

Henry’s expression was as hard as it had been the day Thomasin tried to escape from him. She resisted the urge to step back. “Thomasin, go back to our rooms. Wait for me there.”

His clear agitation alarmed her; she spoke as calmly as she could. “Is something amiss?”

“Do as I say. I’ll be along soon.” He turned to Kal. “You go with her.”

Something must be truly wrong if Henry was willing to part with his shadow, even for an hour or two. Thomasin’s eyes flickered to Charlie for some hint of what was happening, but his expression was as stony as ever. Roger hadn’t stopped when Thomasin intercepted them so she could not look to him for clues.

She glanced at Henry one more time. He didn’t look all right. She wanted an explanation here and now, but she remembered her promise not to disobey him in public. Staying and demanding something from him would certainly count as disobedience. “Of course,” Thomasin said, forcing a mild tone of voice. She gave a shallow curtsey.

She was chattering to Kal as they walked up a tight staircase when she heard a ruckus outside. There were no windows in the stairwell, only thin slats from which archers inside the castle could shoot at enemy soldiers in case of an attack, but they would do.

Thomasin rocked up on her tiptoes to peer through one of them. There was a large cluster of men spread out across the field. They stood in clumps of three or four, talking among themselves as a handful of servants erected some makeshift structure she couldn’t quite make out. Perhaps if she had something to stand on, she would be able to see more clearly . . .

Kal made a grumbling sound.

“I don’t mean to ignore you, Kal,” Thomasin said. “I just want to see what’s going on.”

She never thought it unusual for one to speak to one’s pets, and Henry regularly held complex conversations with the bear, so she wasn’t embarrassed to talk to him in public as other women might be.

Thomasin pushed up a little further and caught a glimpse of fresh scaffolding, then of a handful of shackled men making their way over to it. The Saxon prisoners were finally being executed, then. Thomasin couldn’t blame Henry for not telling her. He was only trying to protect her.

She was about to turn away when she glimpsed a familiar silhouette and an even more familiar red beard. She squinted into the fading light as the hangman put a rope around the Saxon’s thick neck.

She hated that neck. She once joked to Justina that she’d like to strangle him, but his neck was as sturdy as a thick branch on a tree. She’d only tire herself out trying to kill him.

Cerdic.

Thomasin was so shocked and upset that she pushed away from the window too hard and fell backwards; Kal softened her fall somewhat.

For a moment she couldn’t move or even draw in a lungful of air. Kal was breathing in right in her face, but she didn’t care. She felt removed from somehow, as if she weren’t truly in her body.

Cerdic was a ridiculous oaf, but she’d known him all her life. She’d cared for him not as a lover or brother or even a friend, but in the way a woman was expected to care for her husband-to-be. And he was all that was left of her life before.

It was easier when she thought he was dead, that he’d died in the fray along with most of the other Saxon men. She’d grieved him in her own strange way and put his memory behind her, but now everything swelled up again and tightened her throat.

This was the last straw. She was strong but she wasn't made of ice. There was only so much someone could endure before they broke.

And Thomasin truly did break.

She ran to her rooms barely holding back tears. Her throat was sore with the effort of holding in sobs and her hands were shaking so hard that she almost couldn’t open the latch on the door to the antechamber.

She barely made it through the antechamber and into the bedroom before she fell apart. She slammed the bedroom door before Kal could follow and fell forward on her hands and knees into the rushes scattered on the floor; she couldn’t hold herself together a moment longer, not even long enough to reach the bed. She began to weep so hard that she could barely breathe. She made choked, ugly sobbing sounds she couldn’t control that shook her shoulders as snot and tears ran down her face.

Kal whined and scratched at the door, desperate to comfort his mother.

Thomasin kicked the door hard enough to shake the hinges. “Go away!” she shrieked. Her throat was already raw.

She was too tired to move anymore, even to get into bed. She fell to her side and curled in on herself, shivering like a dog left outside in a storm, still whimpering and gasping for breath.

***

Henry stood with Charlie and Roger as they waited for the executions to begin.

“You look unwell,” Henry remarked to his brother-by-law.

Roger heaved a sigh. “It’s always said when something beautiful dies.”

“What, the men?” Charlie asked.

Roger turned to face his friends. “Their lives. Their spirits.” Their physical forms, too, of course.

“That’s the nature of conquest,” Charlie said. “The old ways must end for the new ones to begin. If people cannot accept change . . .” He shrugged.

“I do not like the end part. You must feel some grief on behalf of Thomasin, Henry,” Roger said. “I cannot imagine. . .” he trailed off.

“I didn’t tell her,” Henry said.

“She’ll find out,” Charlie said neutrally. He still didn’t like Thomasin by any stretch of the imagination, but he was coming to accept her. “Assuming she hasn’t already.”

Henry knew that, knew it would be better to tell her himself. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I know,” he said.

***

Cerdic had no last words – or if he did, Henry didn’t hear them.

The men were strung up all at once, the nooses looped around their necks and the wooden bench kicked out from under them. A crueler king might have removed their heads one by one to heighten their fear, but William just wanted the business done with. He’d likely cut their heads off afterwards to mount on spikes near the city gates, though.

Henry left the first moment he could. Thomasin was probably fuming quietly in their room, probably repeatedly stabbing herself in the finger as she furiously embroidered something or other. He hoped so.

Charlie was right: Thomasin had probably found out about the executions somehow. He prayed that she didn’t know Cerdic was among the dead. He wasn’t sure what reaction to expect.

He tried to enter the antechamber quietly, but the room was deathly silent; every small sound he made seemed to echo. The first thing he saw was Kal stretched out in front of the door that led to the bedroom, his chin resting on top of his paws. He looked downright pensive.

“Kal.”

The dog leapt to attention as Henry knelt to scratch his ear.

“Good boy,” Henry murmured.

Kal whined, trying to communicate that something was wrong with Thomasin. He’d been guarding her as best as he could, but she wouldn’t let him into the bedroom.

Henry scratched Kal one more time before steeling himself. He opened the bedroom door. His wife lay on her side on the floor, still sniffling and hiccupping from weeping.

“Tom?” he knelt on the ground beside her.

She moved her head the slightest bit to look up at him with bloodshot eyes. “You knew that Cerdic was here. That he was alive.” She was too exhausted to inject an accusatory tone into her raspy voice.

Henry took a deep breath. A lock of her rosy golden hair had gotten free of its braid; he gently tucked it behind her ear. “Yes.”

Her chin quivered as her eyes filled with tears. She shut them and turned away. “It was easier when . . .”

“I know.”

Her chin still moved. “I wish William had never come to England,” she said, voice high and tight. “I wish I’d never laid eyes on a Norman.”

Henry took a deep breath. “Tom, you can’t blame every Norm –”

“Yes I can!” She shouted, jumping to her feet. Henry stood, too. On the other side of the door, Kal whimpered. “It’s your fault! You came here and you took what wasn't yours and you killed the men and raped the women. My country is dead!” Her voice cracked. “I have nothing left! You took everything from me!”

Henry’s voice was low but strong. “You have me.”

“I don’t want you!” she shouted. Her words cut Henry like the blade of a knife. “You or your bastard king and your merciless countrymen! I wish I’d never met you! I – I –”

I want to go home.

“Enough, Tom,” said Henry. “You’ll give yourself a fit.” Thomasin reached for the back of her neck; Henry caught her hands in his and stopped her before she even touched the necklace’s clasp. “Don’t,” he said softly.

Thomasin shoved away from him so hard she nearly fell backwards. Henry, who had the build of a stone wall, hardly budged. That made her so furious that she slapped him – tried to, anyway. Henry caught her wrist in his hand and used it to tug her close.

“Let go!” she shouted. “Henry, let me go!”

But he held her to his chest and would not unlock his grip. She kept shoving and hitting him until he finally released her – only to capture her again.

Somehow, she was suddenly lying back on the bed, her wrists firmly locked in Henry’s grasp as he pinned them above her head. He hovered over her on his knees, locking her legs between his strong thighs to make sure she didn’t try to kick him in her anger.

“Thomasin, enough!” he shouted.

Exhausted, she finally gave up the fight. She sank limp against the bed and started to weep.

She’d never cried in front of him before, Henry thought. He wasn’t even sure if she cried when she was wounded on the road. There were tears in her eyes on their wedding night and the day she tried to escape from him in the forest, but he didn’t think they ever spilled over.

He couldn’t stand to watch but he couldn’t look away. Thomasin needed him now. She was in mourning – for her father, her former betrothed, her relationships with her siblings, her country. She was mourning her own life, too, and what it might have been if William had never come.

“I hate you,” Thomasin whimpered through her tears.

“No, you don’t.” Her husband’s voice was tired but kind as he released her wrists and climbed off of her.

Her eyes were already shut; her outburst at Henry and fit of emotion after seeing Cerdic hanged drained her of all energy and she was on the very edge of sleep. “I hate you, Henry,” she insisted weakly.

Henry knew she wasn’t sincere, that she was just speaking out of anger, but the words still stung him all the same.

It wouldn’t hurt him at all if she’d just say out loud that she loved him. He only needed to hear it once. None of her accusations or insults would bother him if he knew beyond a doubt that she loved him even half as much as he loved her. With those words, he’d be invincible.

But she didn’t say it. Maybe she never would. She loved him, Henry was sure of it, but she was too proud to admit it.

Tom’s tears had slowed and turned from sobs to sniffles to deep, loud breathing.

Henry stayed beside her in bed, both of them still fully dressed, and soon drifted off. She turned to him in her sleep, unconsciously taking her rightful place in his arms and against his chest. Henry didn’t wake; his body knew instinctively to put his arms around her.

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poisonousroxstar · 4 years ago

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Imagine:

Wally with a cheerful trainer s/o, who's dying from an illness

Trigger warning: dying reader, dead reader. Illness. Angst. Toxicly positive reader? Possible grammar mistakes.

Wally first met you on the day he was going to get his very first pokemon! To his surprise, you were here for the same thing! Norman was nice enough to lend you both a spare Pokémon and balls for you two!

He remembers how nerve-wracking but thrilling it was catching his ralts. When he did, you praised him! And gosh, he couldn't help but blush at your comment.

He invited you over to his parents house, and you both became quickly familiar with one another; becoming friends (and also rivals) very quickly!

Since both of your pokemon were relatively weak, the two of you decided to train together.

Eventually, you were confident that your Pokémon was ready to take on the first gym! Wally wasn't nearly as confident though, thus you two parted ways.

You told Wally you'd see him around! Giving him a gleeful smile that made his heart skip a beat. It appeared he had a small crush..

You guys wouldn't meet again until the second gym. Wally had moved to come stay with his uncle, and by then he had gotten a little stronger! When he saw you, Wally couldn't help but get a little giddy and blush ever so slightly.

After your guys' battle, his uncle invited you over to his home. He noticed how his nephew was behaving, and thought it might be good to bring over his crush!

You cheerfully accepted! And even wanted to race Wally there! Although, that didn't work out as his condition rendered running a bit.... Problematic. Soo, instead of that, you trailed alongside him and chatted about your adventures and experiences so far.

You sort of took a break on your journey to spend time with the lime haired boy. And he couldn't have been more thrilled!

At first, you two trained together. Being on break didn't mean you couldn't get some experience in!

Eventually, you two started doing everything together. Hanging out and enjoying the beautiful area, especially the flowers. Fooling around, even if Wally sometimes protested against your ideas. And lazing together during uneventful days.

It was on one of those days you asked about his condition, and what it was that forced him to move to his uncles.

Wally paused for a moment, before replying with an answer. He thought that by becoming a trainer, he could become stronger, both as a person and with his illness.

His answer made you admire him, and you felt like you owed him something in return. So, with your cheerful tone that made beautiflies flutter in his tummy, you said:

"well... I'm technically dying!"

Wally gave you a shocked expression, and almost thought you were joking because of your tone.

But it wasn't a joke, unfortunately. You told him you had an illness that was slowly killing. You became a trainer as a way to see the entire region before your death, and take on the gyms in an attempt to become the champion of hoenn!

Wally stayed with a shocked expression "s/o... I'm so sorry..". You hushed him, saying that you weren't afraid of it, or sad. Maybe you were a long time ago but now? You were fine!

To lighten the mood, you reassured him that everything was ok. Wally was awed at how much you accepted your fate. He understood, since he had his own issues as well, but to know you were dying and still be happy? He doesn't think even he could be as jolly.

You brightened up the somber atmosphere with optimism, stating that you were here, and ready to make the most out of everything!

Wally couldn't help his racing heart when you smiled. Your cheerfulness and determination made him feel so warm and fuzzy inside. It was more then obvious he had a massive crush on you, and in a way, you returned those feelings as well.

Once that was clear cut, you decided to ask him out! Gosh, he was a blushing mess when you did, stuttering over his words and behaving more meek then normal. But... He accepted, a small smile on his lips.

The date was simple, but very cute. You two were strolling together around both Verdanturf town and Mauville city. The old couple of the daycare even let you both help tend with some of the pokemon. Although Wally was a bit hesitant, the pokemon cooed to his gentleness and calm nature. It was truly a precious moment!

It didn't take much time for you two to become a thing! Although yous never said it directly, it was clear as day you two were helplessly in love with each other.

It was also around this time you and Wally decided to resume your pokemon journey. Wally suggested you two stick together for the remainder of it, and you found the idea cute, so you two did!

But the plan didn't last too long.. halfway through your two's adventure, you began to cough. You often didn't think much of it, since it was something that happened a lot for you. Given your conditions and... everything.

But once you looked down at your hand, you noticed it was stained with.... Blood? You had coughed out blood, some of it coming out in small clumps.

This hadn't happened before, and you were actually... Very scared. Perhaps because it reminded you of your morality.. or because of Wally.

You couldn't let him see you like this. What would happen? How would he react? The last thing you wanted was to suspend his own adventure just because of you.

Wally noticed how quiet you got after your coughing fit, and asked if something was wrong. You hid away your bloody hand and hastily wiped any remaining traces of blood on your mouth, turning to him with your smile that always tug on his heartstrings "Yep! I'm fine! Just..."

You had to find an excuse. A way so Wally wouldn't suspect something. So, in a slightly sudden voice, you told Wally it was time to part ways.

At first, he interpreted it as you breaking up with him, which left him confused and very hurt; but when you explained it was just because you wanted to get the next gym badge, he sighed in relief you weren't ending the relationship. Although he was still puzzled by why you wanted to go on your own and a part of him didn't want you to leave. Something didn't feel right.

But you reassured him you'd see him again! And told him you two could still keep in contact through the phone! Although he still felt like something was... off... Wally just chopped it up to him being paranoid, and maybe even a little bit possessive? He wasn't sure, relationships were such a new concept to him.

With that and a peck on the cheek, you took off! And Wally waved you goodbye.

Wally then decided, he needed to get stronger! He hoped that the next time you two saw each other, you'd be impressed with how much he improved as a trainer and as a person, who wasn't bound to his illness.

Illness.. that's right, you were also sick, but much worse. Honestly, you were so good at hiding and quickly recovering from the symptoms, Wally almost forgot you were dying..

His chest ached at the thought of you dying. One of his fears was you dying before he could even talk with you again. His heart held so much love for you, and Wally wished that somehow he could take away your pain...

But your numbered days served as motivation. He wanted to get stronger, for you. He wanted to show you how far he came, and how far you've come!

Wally believed in you as well. He found you admirable for your optimism. He thought you could do anything! And that, even if you were dying, you'd survive, and make it.

Wishful thinking, I suppose.

But as Wally got stronger, you only grew weaker. The doctors you had visited said your condition had suddenly worsen out of the blue.

They said, at best, they could give you a few extra weeks of life. Maybe a month or 3, but you'd be heavily restricted. At that point, you'd be stuck to a hospital bed; your journey finishing right then and there.

So, you went against what they said. You held onto hope that, at the very least, you'd be able to collect all the gym badges.

Your calls with Wally became a bit more frequent, which he didn't reject to. Actually, he was really, really happy to hear you! Sometimes he'd get scared that something awful happened to you, so hearing your voice helped calm him.

You avoided telling him the truth though, instead asking about him, his Pokemon, and how far he is. Wally answered every question you had, becoming especially bright regarding his trainer status. You could hear the light and excitement irradiating from his voice, which made you smile.

When he asked about yours, you put on a cheery voice as you often did. Telling him everything was grand! You'd gotten a lot stronger, and had managed to collect another gym badge!

He congratulated you, saying how awesome you were! He asked if, when you two met again, you'd be willing to battle him.

You paused for a moment, not sure how to reply. You didn't want him to see you, not in your slowly deteriorating state. But at the same time you missed him. You wanted to see him again, physically. So, with an unheard reluctance, you agreed to the brawl!

Wally was concerned. You had never sounded so meek before. Never sounded so resistant to see him. He wondered if he did something wrong? If he displeased you someway. He tried not to let it get to his head, but the thought did irk him.

..when Wally finally saw you, he noticed how different you looked. Wally wasn't oblivious, but he didn't know how to bring it up. So, for the time being, you guys caught up! You told Wally how far you've gotten so far, and showed off your collection of badges! You also showed him your Pokemon, how strong they had gotten.

But Wally kept quiet, or replied only in short sentences. You notice his concern expression intensify upon bringing your Pokemon out. Their faces showed hints of sadness.

Finally, Wally asked if you were ok. Your quick reply more or less confirmed you weren't, despite your response portraying the contrary.

He took your hand into his and told you softly that, it's ok if you don't want to tell him. He just wants to make sure you're fine. His skin was so soft you had just noticed, and his delicate hold brought you comfort.

So, with hesitance, you finally told him what was happening. You told him how your illness had advanced, how limited your time was, what they adviced and why you went against it.

Wally looked at you with shock and sadness, but he tried not to overreact. Instead, he held you.

You brushed off his concern, and challenged him to a battle! Wally was stunned by how quickly you tried shifting the topic, and he declined at first. But you reminded him of the ole' trainer rule:

If two trainers lock eyes with one another, it is mandatory they begin a battle!

You wanted to distract yourself and him. You didn't want your illness to be a burden. At the very least you wanted to enjoy the time you had with him instead of focusing solely on you.

When the battle concluded, as if on cue, you coughed out. Wally could tell you were in pain, even if you tried playing it off as if you weren't. He quickly came to you, asking what was wrong and if he needed to call the hospital!

You weakly say it's fine, but Wally rebuked in an attempt to bring you back to reality. It was obvious you weren't 'fine', and he tried to convince you to go see a doctor; at the very least they could offer you some sort of pain reliever!

What was only worry for your well-being evolved into an argument. Even if you put on a happy face and chipper persona, you were suppressing a lot of emotions, and Wally was the unfortunate 'pin to the balloon'.

You let everything pour out, such poisonous words being thrown at him. Wally was stunned into silence by you, only able to endure your verbal assault. Your toxicity would of likely continued if another coughing fit hadn't taken over.

But this time, you weren't able to hide the pain. Your coughs rapidly grew worse, and the ache became too much to the point where your legs buckled in.

Wally panicked when he saw you dropping, but was able to keep calm enough to call the ambulance. He tried to help you as much as he could, but he didn't know what to do. Even you didn't.

When help finally arrived you had completely knocked out, a sickening pool of dark crimson pouring from your mouth that had convinced Wally for a moment that you were gone.

You were rushed to the nearest hospital. Wally wanted to come along with you, but the doctors refused and didn't take the precious time to hear his pleas.

..for the next few days, all Wally could think about was you. His journey had reached another stop, and he tried to stay at the hospital for as long as he could.

The only people he seemed to interact with was his gardivour, his uncle, and his parents. Other then that he had turned completely mute.

He felt guilty, as if this was his fault. The last thing you'd remember if you didn't make it was the two of you getting into an argument. Maybe if he hadn't been so pushy, you wouldn't of had a fit and be here.

He knew it was dumb to think like that, but he couldn't help it.

Sometimes, he'd visit your Pokemon who had been transported to a daycare in the hospital. They seemed just as scared as Wally was, but he knew fearing wouldn't do anything; it wasn't what you wanted either.

So, he tried to be positive. He thought you'd be able to pull through. You were one of the strongest people he knew!

You couldn't die yet, not when you hadn't even completed the gym challenges!

His optimism brought hope to your Pokemon, and to him as well! But Wally was split if he truly believed in what he just preached.

And every day that passed. Every hour you remained in your bed, motionless minus your chest pumping up and down from a machine you were hooked up with.

That hope grew dimmer and dimmer.

Sometimes he'd talk to you, gently rubbing your hand. Your guardian(s) allowed him to be near you, which he couldn't be more thankful for.

He'd tell you about his day, how boring the hospital was. He wondered if you could hear him? He hoped you could.

Wally missed you. He missed you so, so much. He missed seeing you walking around, he missed hearing your voice; he just wanted you.

Wally tried to pull himself together. He didn't want to seem weak in front of you, not when you needed the utmost attention right now. But he couldn't control himself for long.

Wally's gentle whimpers grew into uncontrollable crying. He was pleading to you, pleading to anyone, begging anyone to just---not take you away.

"P-please, S/O... I can't lose you. I...I love you!"

He wanted his words to reach you somehow, so that maybe... Maybe you would wake up.

But no amount of love laced words could pull you from your eternal slumber.

Your heart monitor began dropping. The beating of the machine inducing an intense anxiety into Wally. He cried out for help, and the doctors and nurses flooded the room like water.

Wally was pushed outside the room and force to watch as the medical team desperately tried to revive you. He felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach when every attempt resulted in nothing. No response, nothing.

The doctor came up to Wally, a sad expression on his face. The world went silent. He was muttering out words, lips moving, but Wally couldn't hear anything.

He didn't need to. He knew.

And he just breaks..

He's crying, perhaps even hyperventilating as the doctors attempted to calm him down. Wally knew you were gone. He thought he would be prepared for it, but the impact was too much for him to handle.

He cries, he cries a lot.

And then your funeral comes, but there aren't any tears. Not because he isn't sad, but because he can't squeeze anymore out. He just looks at your coffin in melancholy.

For awhile, Wally doesn't leave his house. When he returned to his parents, he is was nearly mute, and only stayed inside. All that progress had regressed, and he was back to his old self.

Wally wanted to care for your Pokemon himself, but he just wasn't in a good place. He couldn't even care for his own Pokemon, but they understood; your death affected them as well.

With some outside help from his family and his/your Pokemon, Wally slowly got better. Slow, but better.

It was painful for him, but he had to accept keeping you in memory while moving on.

He likes to think you'd want him to go forward, complete his journey. And he came up with a motivator; he couldn't be doing it for himself now, but for the both of you.

He'd do this. For you, and for himself.

He'll get stronger. He'll get braver. Because that's what you may of wanted from him.

Wally would never love someone as much as he did you. You mean the world to him. If only you two had more time together.

Wally will always miss you. The pain will lessen, perhaps even some of his feelings. But his love for you will mostly remain intact.

Wally would visit your grave frequently. But as time went on, the visits became less frequent. Still, he always brought your favourite gifts and most times your Pokemon came along with him.

He'll never forget you. Never.

This lovely artist is the person, I believe, made the drawing! I didn't ask for permission however, so if they ask me to remove the art, I shall!

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princesspiratecat · 3 years ago

Photo

The Rise and Fall of the Shepard Family Part 29: Summer, 1084 & Fall, 1085

Part 1& Part 2

Part 3 & Part 4

Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7

Part 8 & Part 9 & Part 10

Part 11 & Part 12 & Part 13

Part 14 & Part 15 & Part 16

Part 17 & Part 18 & Part 19

Part 20 & Part 21 & Part 22

Part 23 & Part 24 & Part 25

Part 26 & Part 27 & Part 28

It was strange to be back.

Most of Gwendolyn’s memories of the Allard estate were from a time when Aélgarda had been alive. During her exile at the hovel, she had come to miss so many things about it, and had reveled in the little luxuries she had once had. The fire was always roaring, the meat had always been cooked to perfection, and her feather bed had always afforded her a good night’s sleep when her mind was quiet. But now the house had a coldness about it that she hadn’t remembered from before. It was dark and damp and surprisingly dirty.

Gwendolyn wrinkled her nose at the smell of dog and garlic from last nights’ dinner that hung in the air in the Great Hall. There was something else there that she couldn’t account for....rotten vegetables perhaps?

Yuck.

They made their way to down the hall to the stairway and she could feel her palms getting sweaty. Frances met her eyes and offered her a reassuring glance, but she still felt a burning tightness in her chest as they treaded up the stairs.

Courage. You need courage.

“Oh brother! I am so glad you’re here!” Francine’s face was a mix of nervousness and fear as she hugged her brother tightly, and then hugged Gwendolyn. She had never seen her so frazzled before. Francine had always been the girlish one, full of giggles and frivolousness. But today, that was all gone, and she looked older than her eighteen years. “He is getting worse by the day, yet he still insists on coming down to sup and drink his mead. Then he is in his cups until he passes out. Frédérique says she will be here in the morning with her husband, but I am hoping they will arrive sooner. I cannot handle him anymore.”

“Mead? Is that wise?” The beautiful features on her husband’s face flashed with a look of concern.

“I cannot stop him. He won’t listen to anyone and keeps ranting about how he cannot trust women. I don’t know what to do!” The look of helplessness and hopelessness on her face disarmed Gwendolyn. She had seen that look before. It was the look her father had shortly before her mother died.

“Take us to him.” Gwendolyn could see exactly what he was feeling without him having to say anything, just by the tone in his voice. He was nervous and slightly terrified.

We all are.

The room smelled of sweat, vomit and stale air. She had never been in the Master’s bedroom before, but it was a beautiful room, despite the smell. The bed was large with fine fabrics that seemed to shimmer in the light, and the furnishings were inlaid with beautiful carvings done by a highly skilled hand. The light streamed into the room through long windows, which, under different circumstances would have been pleasant, but just then it made her feel exposed. The floors were covered in a variety of fine furs, and the niches were filled with silver candlesticks and beautiful decorative wooden boxes. In the corner sat a bucket of unknown contents, and Gwendolyn tried not to think about what might be in it.

Marcelle had lost a considerable amount of weight since she had last seen him. He was frail and old looking, with dark circles under his eyes. But she noticed he was dressed in a long elaborate robe in the Norman fashion that set him apart from all the other men who wore the Saxon style. There was a finely carved silver medallion at his breast, which Gwendolyn found an odd thing to wear when one was sick. Had he dressed purposely for the occasion?

He still wants to remind us of his status. Of course.

“What are you doing here, Shepard girl?” The raspy words slithered out of his mouth like a snake before she could even think. Upon his features was a look of disgust, reserved especially for her. She bristled under his gaze and felt her anger surface.

“I am come to support my husband.” She looked away, intimidated by his hatred of her. She wanted to add that she had also come in the hopes that the breech between them could be healed, but after seeing his face she knew that it had been a foolish hope. Why was she here? The whole thing seemed like a stupid idea now, and she wished she had stayed away.

“Get her out of here, Frances.” He said his son’s name between clenched teeth, and her heart fell. What had she done for him to hate her so? Besides being born and falling in love with his son, she had never caused him harm or hurt him purposefully. If anything, it should be her that hated him.

Perhaps it was better for her to go. If Frances wanted peace, then she was likely standing in the way of that just with her mere presence. But a small part of her hated being rejected by him, and it hurt her more than she expected it would. She got up and looked at what seemed like dead eyes and held his gaze to the point of making him uncomfortable. She wasn’t going to waste this chance to speak her bit, and he was going to hear it.

“I have come to inform you that I have forgiven you for all of the terrible things you have said and done. For exiling me, and for stealing my dowry, and for the hurt you have caused both of us. Although you really don’t deserve my forgiveness, nor my pity, I give it anyway.” His gaze was empty, as if he found her ridiculous.

Then she moved closer to him and half whispered in his ear, ”Your time has come old man. You better get down on your knees and pray hard that your God will forgive you too for all of the rotten and disgusting things you have done.” She could feel her lip quiver in anger as she reflected back the look of disgust he had given her. His eyes grew wide with surprise, and it gave her a slight thrill. He hadn’t been expecting her to speak that way to him. In the past she would never have dared.

Before he could respond, she walked out of the room with more confidence than she felt. She noticed that her hands were shaking and her heart seemed to want to burst out of her chest.

As soon as she walked into the long hall she felt a wave of relief wash over her. She had said what she come to say, and now it was over. She never had to think about that man again, and once he died, she would be free of him forever. But she couldn’t stop her tears from falling, yet she refused to give into the ache in her heart.

Not here.

She left word with a servant to tell Frances that she would be at the orphanage, and on shaky legs made the short walk down the lane to see her sisters. She wanted so much to collapse into Gwyn’s embrace, and after a few short moments, she did exactly that.

She told her everything, in between sobs and sniffles. And when she had gained enough composure over herself, she asked her sister’s opinion. “Do you think I was too harsh on him? Do you think I should have said something kinder to a dying man?”

“Marcelle?! No. He is lucky indeed that more don’t make their opinions of him known. His wealth protects him. But most people have turned against him since what he did to you has come to light, they whisper about him. People are disgusted by his abuse of power against a helpless orphan girl. He’s no longer seen as a gentleman. If I were you, I would have said much more.”

Gwendolyn felt a small sense of relief that the village was on her side, but she was still worried about the rest of her new family. Where did they stand on the issue? Would they turn their backs on her once Marcelle was dead?

During the ride back to the Inn, Marcelle explained everything that had happened and what his father had said.

“Of course he chided me for leaving, and for marrying you and called me a simple fool. He called me simple!” Gwendolyn said nothing at this, as it was hardly a surprise. “Honestly, I thought he was going to be more angry and refuse to see me. But Gwendolyn, then he said the strangest thing- he called my mother a whore and said that myself and Francine are the only ones he can be sure are really his!”

Gwendolyn gasped in shock. “How could he say that of Aélgarda?! What an absurd thing to say! She dedicated her life to all of you, and the village. And as for your parentage, one only has to look at your siblings to know they have the same parents as you do. They are all different arrangements of his own face!”

Frances nodded in agreement. Every one of his siblings had the same dark eyes as Marcelle, the straight sharp noses, and even the same shade of that beautiful sable colored hair. Gwendolyn thought that Frances was the best looking out of all of them, of course, but there was no denying that they were all related. It was as plain as day to anyone that cared to look.

“I can only imagine that he is suffering from delusions. Perhaps a combination of poppy juice and mead?! He looks awful. I’ve never seen him so weak. It made me pity him.”

“Well, did you make your peace with him? How did you leave it?”

“In a way, I suppose. He said that I would inherit the estate since I am the only son he can be sure of...which shocks me to my core. I think the things you said to him had quite an affect on him, because he then told me to leave so that he could ‘make peace with his maker.’” He gave her a look just then, and she could see he was still recovering from shock. “What exactly did you whisper to him when you got close? I’ve never seen him pray in my life!”

She pinched her lips together and said quietly, “I told him what needed to be said. It was for his ears only.”

His mouth curled into a little smile and he let out a chuckle. “Something about god? I’ll make a note never to cross you, as I have to say that I never want to see the look you gave him directed at me.” His eyes were teasing and he kissed her gently on the neck. “What a saucy Tigress you are.” She laughed and then he kissed her again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In just a week’s time with the arrival of autumn, another nasty illness had spread to Barton Upon Humber from the North, and then made it’s way to Grimsby. Most people remained indoors, fearful that another plague would wipe out as many as it had several years ago, or more. Their fears were not unfounded, as it had been reported that twelve people had already died in the nearby farms and villages.

First it hit the Merchant household of Handel, and killed not only Master Uddulf Handel, but his young son as well. Everyone was surprised it had brought down such a large, healthy man, but luckily his wife and daughter were spared.

Next it hit the Merchants, and killed the Irishman, Fáelán. For a time people thought that it would take Aoifé and the children as well, but they narrowly escaped death after several weeks.

Soon after it traveled to the house of the late Olric, where it bedded his widow, Agatha. The three children had to be sent to the orphanage while their mother was too sick to care for them, and she died just days afterwards, alone.

But finally it ended it’s travels at the Allard estate, where it made short work of Marcelle, who had been hanging on. It also banished Francois to his bed, where he clung to life. Yet just as quickly as it had spread, it was gone again, leaving the living to mourn the dead one more time.

As soon as Marcelle died a messenger was dispatched to the Inn. Frances had been summoned to the estate where the reading of the will was to take place, and they hastily began to pack their trunks. As Gwendolyn began to carefully fold her clothing, she couldn’t help but wonder why she felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. It was true that she mostly hated Marcelle, but now that he was gone she remembered the days when he used to come visit their father and offered them fresh cherries from his orchard. He would sup with them sometimes, and her father had always been so proud when he did. She had considered him a father figure for so long.

What had made him change so much?

She glanced over at Frances, as tears silently rolled down his cheeks, and she could feel his sorrow. She stopped folding and clasped her hands in his. He looked away at first, too ashamed to look her in the eye. Then the tears gushed out, and he quietly began to sob. He rested his head on her shoulder, and she could feel him shake with misery. She gently rubbed his back up and down, up and down, until he sobbed even harder and it all came sputtering out.

“Now we’re both orphans,” he whispered.

#sims 2 stories #sims 2 challenges #new foundations

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a1most-perfec7 · 3 years ago

Text

Norman Bates headcanons (part 2)

a.n. tis the season and I am finally back with part 2! I'm hoping to be a little more productive this month, should anything spark a fire of inspiration. I hope you enjoy!

• Norman appreciates the normalcy of your relationship. He enjoys that he's not alone anymore and has someone very special in his life

• He'll probably never outright admit it but it's nice to have someone other than his mother to love and be loved by

• Speak of the devil, you and norman both are very attentive to her. Meaning you both know what to do and how to handle her, should Norman have an episode.

• He feels that it is overbearing for you to deal with that side of him, and has mentioned more than once that he worries about you and your safety during an episode

• Please reassure him that you love him no matter what. Whether its words of affirmation that are borderline smothering (not that he minds) or acts of service where you take the lead in making the beds of the previous guests while he sleeps in

• Those guests may or may not have forgotten to sign out, but neither of you question it.

• Speaking of sleep, Norman seldom slept in before he met you. He was always such an early riser, ready to tend to the motel, and perhaps his mother.

• But after establishing a comfortable relationship with his beloved, Norman certainly relishes in sleeping in with you.

• The sun creeping through the split of the curtain and lining across both of your sleeping bodies. Limbs either tangled gently with one another or one of you nestled into the neck of the other. Often times, Norman will be cradled in your arms, but when needed, especially after a nightmare or some other disturbance, Norman can accommodate and hold you close to his chest.

• On some occasions, these moments have been a little more intimate

Entering somewhat steamy hc's

• Once you woke up before Norman, his lips were slightly pouty. You couldn't fight the urge and leant in and pressed your lips against his. Softly at first to wake him and then all at once when he had properly stirred out of his slumber.

• This continued for a couple more minutes when his hands met the sides of your face and held you still.

• When you pulled apart, Norman looked as if he had a fever, a scarlet blush covering his neck to the tips of his ears.

• "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." He mumbles shyly. "No, no, please Norman. I liked it." You kiss him again, which he eagerly returns.

• It takes a bit of a while for both yourself and Norman to actually do the do. It contains lots of talking and understanding, communication is key with Norman in this department.

• But when all has been established, the intimacy levels raise through the roof. Sensual and intensely intimate moments grow more common with time and so do other activities... ;)

• I imagine some light bondage entering the scene, nothing that could raise anxieties.

• Definite praise kink. Both ways as well, Norman revels in the attention and can't help but return it. It burns a fire deep down within him.

• Though he's not as articulate at giving praise, mostly stammering through the pleasure you both receive, Norman's vocal quality sings to your soul. Every sound from grunt to moan is well enough to satiate, though you may have to spur him on to get a full effect.

• Big on aftercare. Gentle and pleasant caresses along with sweet nothings whispered between each other after sex is possibly his most favourite part.

• Limbs tangled together as you both bask in the afterglow of lovemaking sends both of your hearts a flutter.

a.n. I fussed so much over the steamy section, so I apologize if it's god awful. I hope you enjoyed.

#norman bates #norman bates fluff #norman bates x reader #psycho 1960 #slasher x reader #norman bates headcanons

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davidmann95 · 4 years ago

Note

So you've talked a lot about Darkseid, but what about the other New Gods?

SO THIS HAS BEEN IN MY INBOX FOR ALMOST AS LONG AS THIS BLOG’S BEEN AROUND AND I JUST FINALLY FINISHED FOURTH WORLD

Well that sure was something. My musings on some major players that I either have substantial thoughts on, or where I especially think the majority consensus/interpretation has subsequently gotten them wrong (a state Kirby is well aware of, because a HUGE part of “Even Gods Can Die!” is him being frustrated at subsequent handlings of the characters even by 1984 mucking things up):

Orion: Perhaps the most hard-done by as a result of Kirby never being able to fully finish Fourth World as he had imagined it, as his character arc ends on a cliffhanger for a decade and is forced into a rapid completion later. When he emerges, while a warrior born he’s also every bit the classical, magnificent hero you expect to see in a superhero comic to try and overshadow his inner demons, while by the end of New Gods he’s embraced not only his true face (the OTHER face, as his father would put it) in the fight against Apokolips but the murderous, sadistic rage that is his birthright, reveling in inflicting agony and very much the berserker others have since portrayed him as. Surely as much a product of his trauma from a childhood on Apokolips (a detail frequently glossed over) and a sense of being unwanted as anything genetic, it’s ultimately unconditional love for him as he truly is in Hunger Dogs that lets him overcome his fear that he can’t be anything but a monstrous tool in service of better people than himself, and embrace ‘the tomorrow overture’. Even his anger has its righteous if tragic place as a primal force of upheaval: “It defies time! It stands firm against the hammers of change! It mocks life and defies death!” I won’t get to it for awhile yet, but very curious what Simonson does with him.

Lightray: Rules! He’s the closest the New Gods have to a traditional superhero, and it’s in that capacity that while a lousy warrior next to Orion (Kalibak thinks little of his attempt at fighting him, mockingly deeming him a “callow little killer”), his strength is in transformation: he makes himself light, he turns a tormented weapon into the glory boat, a machine armed against the New Gods into a weapon against Darkseid, Orion from a man alone into a friend. He’s not a warrior, but he’s the one who makes a better world worth waging war for and who might one day make such war unnecessary. Also he and Orion have definitely fucked.

Mister Miracle: Not WILDLY off the mark since, but it’s interesting that as I expect a result of JLI he’s been written so often since as an everymanish, relatable, bordering-on-comedic figure, when under Kirby he was very much the archetypal good guy. One often committed to freeing others as he had been freed himself, in the likes of Ted Brown and Shilo Norman, an avenue I’m surprised hasn’t been explored more often from what I’ve seen. Also worth noting: Darkseid declared the moment he got his hands on the kid that Granny would be twice as hard on him as others, and that it would eventually drive the boy away and let the war resume. Which not only indicates Darkseid’s understanding of the subtlety needed in control, but would seem to take Scott’s rebellion out of his own hands…except that at the moment of his escape Darkseid still offered him a choice, implored the boy to allow him to “complete the destruction of Scott Free – so you may live with the majesty that is the power of DARKSEID!” And instead he turned his back on his god and chose to be what he is.

Barda: Shockingly, great as she’s been since, her background is often severely mischaracterized. The shorthand is “love saved her and turned her from a servant of evil to a champion of good!”, but that’s…while not entirely wrong, a bad way of presenting it. When she leaves Apokolips initially, even after she starts hanging out with Scott Free and Oberson after having helped the former escape years earlier, she still believes in Darkseid. She fights and hates her former allies not because she’s turned against his vision of the universe (this is in fact a major aspect often overlooked - under Kirby Darkseid’s agents don’t simply fear him, they sincerely believe in him and his vision of how the universe works) but because she sees them as loathsome, brutish executors of his grand design. In short, she doesn’t think it’s the system that’s the problem, but a bunch of bad apples. It’s her experience with freedom and simple pleasures and life on Earth, her lingering guilt over the death of her friend Auralie as eventually manifested in her protection and training of Shiloh Norman, and yes, her eventual realized love for Scott, that brings her around to realizing she truly desires a life beyond what Darkseid can offer.

Forever People: Okay I actually don’t have a ton to say about the Forever People, though I do think they’re underrated and underutilized. Naive and in over their heads as the frequently are they’re also the best of their peers, believing in freedom and transformation and the potential of those around them to become better - their defining moment for me is when they reassure Sonny Sumo that having the power of the Anti-Life Equation doesn’t make him a monster. “Where we come from the Anti-Life Equation is one of many others–almost as awesome!! But they merely exist!! It’s we who live!!”

Metron: The big figure I haven’t really been able to crack. Machinery as not necessarily cold mechanization but extensions of ourselves and our souls, and able to nourish them in turn, is a big aspect of Fourth World, but Metron as the embodiment of mechanization and knowledge feels like not just an outsider as he’s framed but one who never quite became whatever Kirby had in mind for him, making his crucial role at the end of Hunger Dogs a bit of a non-sequitur for me. I’d be curious to hear what other people think.

Desaad: God Desaad’s been made boring. Not that he isn’t fairly one-dimensional under Kirby too, but his craft and awful glee as the god of torture isn’t just in strapping people to tables and poking them with unpleasant tools, it’s in manipulating their emotions and agonies to a fever pitch - he should be such an unsettling figure, and instead he’s a simpering helpless toady.

Highfather: Not a perfect figure, given how he’s framed with the likes of Fastbak, and the Forever People, and the Pact, willing to deploy fear as a weapon in the name of peace as Darkseid will use chaos in the name of a larger order, but always trying - as with Darkseid, an imperfect vessel of what he represents, but capable of growth and realization as a leader.

Steppenwolf/Heggra: Essential to understanding The Pact, they’re the old ways of the world and war, petty despots and warrior-kings, supplanted by fascism in Darkseid.

Darkseid: So I’ve discussed Darkseid before in terms of his broad use and ideas, but the very specific ways Kirby presented him have their own dimensions. In the world of superheroes he’s larger-than-life and often such in here too, but in rare moments, and by the end entirely as all artifice is stripped away? Kirby’s Darkseid is a profoundly human figure. He recognizes the irony that the Forever People believe in letting all be who they are, for that very need to fulfill himself is why he must pursue conquest (“And of course - that’s the pity of it!”). While he thinks to himself “Oh, how heroes LOVE to flaunt their nobility in the face of death! Yet THEY know better than most that war is but the COLD game of the BUTCHER!” he too believes in “Boldness! Risk! The raw meat of existence!” even as he consigns himself to the role of puppetmaster rather than warrior. He does or so he tells himself “no more than what HAS to be done!!” rather than indulging in cruelty for its own sake. He dresses up in ridiculous costumes for his schemes, he gets sarcastic, he recognizes honor and respects worthy foes, he feels love, he craves the laughter of a friend, he fears the obsolesce of his preferred way of doing things, he tells himself that should he achieve omnipotence others will find “eternal shelter”. He’s a person, one capable of a range of emotions, but he is the TIGER FORCE AT THE CORE OF ALL THINGS regardless…not because he is a mythic unstoppable force, but because every day he rises and believes in himself over all others, because there is a black hole within him that he can only hope dominance might fill regardless of what pain he finds in the process. But as Mister Miracle’s battle with the Lump foretold, when left truly alone over a world that is himself he will be only within “a self-made prison”, reflections of his own fear and agony.

#New Gods #Fourth World #Kirby #Orion #Lightray #Mister Miracle #Barda #Forever People #Metron #Desaad #Highfather #Darkseid #Opinion

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years ago

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Hello! Can I request a headcanon where the queen of hearts (1951), Maleficent, Cruella, Shang yu and Yzma (separated) take care of a lost (orphaned) little girl (like 5-6) and adopted her as their own. Thank!

These were sooooo fun to think of, omg XD I feel all warm inside, thanks for the request! I hope you like it as much as I do ^^

~~~

Cruella DeVille (You can imagine either animated, OUAT or live action Cruella, but I liked this gif ^^):

· Cruella, is more of a… fun, rich aunt. You know, when you can post the child back to its parents any time you like with a sugar high and new Xbox?

· But, as the capable entrepreneur and businesswoman that she is, she rises to the challenge of ‘parenting’, when the stinky orphaned girl living on the streets (You, obviously) show potential in the fashion industry.

· She takes you right to the adoption agency, picks you up and plops you on the counter like a pair of shoes and asks how much you cost. You just smile sweetly, like the most adorable munchkin ever despite the off way your new caregiver handles you, and the agent has some reservations, of course, but Cruella’s able to speed up the adoption process with her connections and her money.

· Your relationship at first is similar to Oswald Cobblepot and Martin’s. And if you haven’t watched Gotham, I’ll explain; Sort of distant, but the adult is trying at least. They’re just not used to having a pre-teen around. And, somehow, they’re making the child feel more understood and taken care of then anyone else ever has, despite both parties’ reservations.

· Slowly you bond (Over fashion, obviously) and Cruella turns into, honestly, a pretty good mum (For a villain who wants to kidnap puppies from her friend and make a coat for herself out of them, anyway). She learns to not gag when your shows are on the telly, she takes more time off work to take care of you and turn up to your school things (Like parent-teacher interviews, concerts, art exhibitions, and assemblies if you’re going to get an award- she even makes artful collages out of your work on the fridge), and you two even learn how to cook some easy dinners together.

· (Cruella can cook, I think, but I can imagine they’re more fancy stuff that a kid really isn’t interested in)

· You’re a two-person team kind of family.

· She doesn’t like you to be around Jasper and Horace because their stupidity and lack of fashion sense could be contagious.

· For the longest time, you just call her Cruella… until one day she says she loves you (Which is visibly difficult for her. Not because the words aren’t true, but because she’s not sentimental) and you finally call her ‘Mum’.

Maleficent:

· You start following her around, lost and having decide the scary green lady with a cute bird pet is the one to go to for help. She tries to scare you off, but of course you’re already scared anyway! But not of her- of being left alone.

· So you keep following her through the forest, until you reach her castle and Diablo has become attached to you and is sitting on your shoulder instead of hers, nuzzling your little face.

· She leaves out some food for you for dinner and lays a clean blanket down on an abandoned bed in a random room down a dark hallway. It’s a spooky night, in that creepy castle… but the blanket smells like grass and you find that if you close your eyes and smoosh your face into it, you don’t think about the things that could be hidden in the dark. Also, Diablo comes in and keeps you company.

· Mal is sure that you’ll be gone the next day. That’s why she was so kind. She was sure you were just a determined straggler and if she offered you a home for a night, then you would be the fickle little child that you are leave without so much as a thank you the next day.

· But you don’t leave.

· And you do say thank you, and even make her a mud pie outside the castle.

· She gives you a bit of a smile (Not soft, because Mal is still an evil fairy, but it’s a refreshing look on a face that had been pinched the whole time), resigning to you. You’re all alone like her. Maybe it won’t hurt so much to let you stay.

· Okay, as a parent, Mal isn’t so bad. She settles into the pace easier than Cruella or Yzma, at least, and her lifestyle allows for a far stabler childhood for you then Shan Yu’s. Plus, she’s outwardly very calm, which is a huge improvement from if you were living under the Red Queens roof.

· Distracts you with magic when she’s busy or just when she wants to watch the awe in your face as you watch sparkles dance around the room like real life stars.

· Keeps you away from all her villainy- you don’t need to be messed up in all that. Basically no one except her crow knows you exist and she’d like to keep it that way.

Shan Yu:

· Shan Yu finds you after he pillages your village (And you’re the only survivor) and you followed along behind his men for a while until they noticed you. Which didn’t take long, of course, they’re a group of highly skilled Huns in the ways of hunting and warfare.

· He uses his noggin (A very good noggin. Much cleverness) and identifies the favourable factors to having a little girl with them. You’re unassuming, for one, and can be trained (And moulded) to be used as a diversion for them in the kind of situations in which brute force do not apply and wouldn’t be helpful.

· He also acknowledges the need to train the next generation into their image to continue the Huns control over China even after he passes away. So, off on the quest to take over China you go, with them.

· He is so big, that you can perch on his wide shoulder and he’ll be fine still marching along.

· He gets a bit soft when interacting with you. At least, he certainly doesn’t treat you like an adult because you of course aren’t one. He encourages your childish wonder and your playing around. He’ll even play eye spy with you as you travel, or play a little tug of war if you get a piece of fabric or rope (Yes, like a puppy) and he’s just sitting down chilling somewhere on a rest break or at camp, pretending that the game is actually a contest until he smirks and tugs just a tiny bit harder and you fall forward onto your face XD (He only uses one hand the entire time)

· He’s a really chill dad, really, despite the whole… killing everyone in your village… First impressions, amiright? XD

· The rest of his men either hate you with every fibre of their huge beings or love you even more, and that’s the tea. One of them once rolled you up in a blanket and strapped you to a horse so you would stop annoying them by running around in front of the mules. You decide whether this was one who hated you or loved you. (Another came along and put a roll of bread in your mouth so you could eat, but didn’t release you)

· You’ve also been tied (Safely and comfortably, yes but still tied with your feet off the ground) to a tree as a time out and dropped in lakes (Once they knew you could swim) to calm your shit when you got hyper.

· You sleep in Shan Yu’s tent until you’re like 14 and declares that you’re able to defend yourself and can kill a man, so he can keep you safe.

Queen of Hearts:

· Goodness, who let this woman adopt? (Well, I mean, no-one could stop her) Even Hades would be better, and he tried to have a baby assassinated.

· This woman would be unintentionally manipulative towards this child (Like Norma and Norman Bates. Jesus christ). Whenever the kid doesn’t do anything that she wants them to, she’ll get p i s s e d, and that might legitimately mess with the kids psyche. She won’t behead the lil girl, of course, which I guess is bit of a saving grace (she isn’t that cruel) here? But it’s definitely a good thing the gentle King of Hearts is around, to settle the flames and calm down his wife and new daughter when games go awry.

· (And ya’ll play lots of games. Some of the time, living with her and her husband as your parental figures is a dream for a little girl like you)

· She does try her very hardest to be kind and not to lose her temper, and it is made so much easier by the fact that you’re an innocent little girl (Younger than Alice was), and she’s very fond of you. So, in a way, adopting you is helping her with her issues, and by extension, helping the rest of Wonderland.

· You get a big fancy throne-like highchair at the royal dinner table.

· Your little family is a bit or very messy, but you are never not loved. You always know that you’re loved.

Yzma:

· When Yzma takes you in, its because Kronk discovered your little form sleeping in an alleyway and ran with you in his hands back to her, and BEGGED her. This sweetheart (Kronk, not Yzma) could not handle the knowledge that a little baby girl was abandoned and all alone on the streets. And Yzma’s the most well-off, influential person he knows! Of course he’s going to go to her for help.

· When she finally gives in, its because you called her pretty. She’s just like… pause… “Seems like an intelligent enough… eugh… child... Kronk come! We have to disinfect it.”

· Kronk rushes after Yzma, still holding you and clarifies for you: “She means a bath.”

· So, now, you have your protective, psycho, affection-challenged mother and your sweet, dumb, beloved… uncle. Yeah, uncle. We’ll go with uncle.

· Yzma takes a while to get used to you, and she’s very defiant against getting called ‘Mum’ or ‘Mother’ (Mama or Mummy have a more youthful feel, according to Yzma.), but she’s pretty immature due to her psychosis so she tends to blend well with your child personality.

· You laugh so much, with her. Most of the things she says are hilarious, especially when she’s exasperated and mutters about Kronk.

· She doesn’t want you to grow up without a brain like him (Or to mix with other children- she will not be dealing with chicken pox or nits. If you did get either of those things, she would be living in a full-on hazmat suit and spray everything you touch, and you. Kronk would end up getting the sickness because he gives you lots of hugs and takes care of you while you’re sick or you have the nits) so she gets you a home school teacher.

· On your birthday (They do the day Kronk found you if you don’t know it), Kronk wakes Yzma up at the buttcrack of dawn drags her along to set up the day for you. Including a treasure hunt, where its clear that Yzma wrote the clues because its very translucent through the sentences she wrote that she didn’t have coffee before writing them. Very bitter.

· She does want to make you happy though and buys you literally the best present for a child of that time. I don’t know what it is, but it’s the equivalent for them of a little car or coloured TV (Like the Barbie or Hot Wheel ones) for us. She’s so smug about it, too, like ‘Shove that up your 4 layer cake with different flavours, Kronk.’.

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bizlawgal · 4 years ago

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I wanted to share a prompt! Hope is ok ❤️: Emma is norman's bodyguard. And he's so cute 😳. But she has to focus because she's a professional 😎. But he's so sweet and treats her like she was a princess! But he's also super important and she needs to give the 100% to protect him. But the way he calls her, it's just... Would be people surprised if she falls for him? What would people think if she tries to take him for her 🤭😏.

This took a while.

Here’s Lyn’s first contribution to the N/E tag for 2021 on Tumblr.

I personally enjoyed writing this because it’s so angsty, but it’s a dessert with a cherry on top for an ending.

I. There was no fitting person for the job other than her.

With a slender built, an agile reflex, and a taste for anything below the surface of safety, she was more than willing to accept the terms and conditions that came with the job.

"Oliver tells me you're experienced in this line of work," said Ray, the person-in-charge with most of the personal bodyguards assigned to the Minerva Family. "You do know that individuals who prefer this line of work are the ones who have —"

"— nothing left to lose, I know," she continued. This line was something she had memorized long ago. "No one will be looking for me if I do lose my life somewhere along the line. I have no more family to go back to."

Her father had died a couple of years back. Incarcerated for a murder she knew he did not commit, and died a sorrowful death behind bars because of an undetected disease.

Since then, she had taken a liking to the profession of looking after people; being a bodyguard gave her a purpose to live, and another way to make amends with her helplessness.

Ray's face echoed skepticism. "As long as you won't die before the person you're in charge of, then there won't be any problems. At least during this coming election period. Your service is of utmost importance."

Emma released a deep sigh upon learning that she had finally landed this job. "Who am I in-charge of protecting?"

"The heir of the Minerva Family," he answered as he flipped through her folder full of credentials one last time. "Consider this as your first day on the job. Here's the itinerary for today. He's a very busy person but make sure you leave a good impression."

He? She had never worked as a bodyguard for any man before, but being ever-so devoted to what she did for a living, she shoved the underlying curiosity in her mind.

Emma nodded submissively as she extended her hand to claim the supposed itinerary and immediately implanted the details inside her head. The idea to process everything in an instant was something she was good at.

"Memorized it?" Ray quipped, a challenging smirk making its way to his lips.

"Yes," she beamed, "I’ve memorized it by heart."

"Do you still have any inquiries about what your job will be? About the person you're in charge of?"

She shook her head in an absolute stance. "I think I'm well-informed."

"Good, because here comes the Minerva you're in-charge of."

She heard the simultaneous clicking of heels against the marbled floors, and when the door to the room opened, she swang her head to officially meet him with a smile.

Instead of a smile on her lips, she only registered an expression of awe; lips parted in wordless wonder and eyes widened with a different kind of expectation.

He was the first to move on, reflecting the same enchantment on his face, and spoke, "You must be —"

"Emma," she supplied. "I'm Emma Mikhaylov, and starting today, I'll be your personal bodyguard, Sir Minerva."

He smiled, and she was sure that it might've made her heart twitch a bit. "It's nice to meet you, Emma. Are you aware of our itinerary for today?"

She looked over at Ray, and back at the heir. Her breath hitched upon answering. "Yes, sir."

There was one thing that Ray failed to mention.

Norman Minerva, the heir to the family of politicians, was a damn well-proportioned, good-looking man.

II.

"How are you supposed to protect me if you're the one behind the wheels?"

It was another one of his comments that initially swayed her to think that he wasn't just one of those old money brats from a political dynasty.

It had been three months of being his bodyguard, and she couldn't deny that he was suspiciously treating her better than how he did with others.

Without taking her eyes off the road, she answered, "It's my job to chaperone you, too."

He subtly scratched his head. "Do I have to spell it out for you that I want you next to me? We could've asked Ray to chaperone us, could we not?"

"Ah, but Ray is out doing his own chaperoning for your sister."

He snorted. "There is no winning that. He fancies my sister, after all."

Emma chuckled lightly. "Miss Anna is really lovely. I doubt anyone would second-guess their attraction towards her, sir."

"Emma." There was a sternness to the way he said her name that made her slightly jolt in her seat. "I've told you a thousand times to simply call me by my name."

"It's inappro—"

"It is not," Norman sighed heavily, thinking how many times they've had this conversation. "I already told you that I do not think of you merely as my bodyguard. I simply enjoy your company and I think you know by now that I fancy you. We should try to be more casual."

This brought out another laughter from her, yet it was laced with awe and disbelief. She hoped that he couldn't see how hard she was trying to gulp down her nerves.

"That isn't part of my job description, si— Norman. What you're suggesting is highly inappropriate."

Norman raised a skeptical brow from the rearview mirror, and she tensed in her seat when his eyes bore into hers. "But you find Anna and Ray's illicit affair romantic? What makes my attraction for you different from theirs?"

Emma took a deep breath and internally reminded herself that she was a professional. This was not something she should be entangled in, especially since her sole purpose was to keep him safe until the elections were over.

She was simply thankful that they had arrived at the first one on his itinerary. "Would you look at that? We're here! Wait for me to open your door, okay?"

"Emma, you don't have to —"

She whipped her head and raised a finger. "No buts. This is my job."

It was when she got out of the car and paused for a second did she let the facade fade from her face.

Just being in the same space with him was getting harder and harder each day.

III.

It was rare for her to curse, but given the scenario they were in, it was hard not to.

"Damn election period," Emma hissed at the side, aiming the gun towards the door.

The Minerva Estate was breached and unidentified men were detected rummaging within the massive palazzo. Ruckus could be heard from the outside of the walls, and the more it came, the more fear resonated between her fingertips.

"Emma!" Norman cried out from within the confines of his walk-in closet, drenched in his own fear and misgivings. "Let me out this instant!"

It was rare of him to question his lack of strength or physical means to pry a door open; this was one of those rare occurrences.

"No can do, Norman," she vocalized it with depth, making it known to him that there was no way she was letting him out for the sake of his safety. "Stay right there. It's for your own good."

In a hysterical voice, he rebutted, "And what about you? Why can you not hide here with me?"

She found the whole thing utterly ridiculous. "Are you insane? I'm your bodyguard, remember? It's my job to keep you safe!"

"And what will I do if you die trying to protect me?" His words were more of a plea than a question, knotting within the hollows of his stomach.

"I cannot lose you, Emma."

She hissed at the words, and begrudgingly closed her eyes before snapping her view at the walk-in closet.

"And I cannot lose you!" She almost screeched it — everything that she had been bottling inside for the sake of her sanity, eating away every bit of suppressed emotions that she carefully placed at the back of her heart. "I will not allow anything or anyone to bring you harm. I can’t let another person I care for die! This is my job —"

"Who cares about this job —"

"— and this is what I feel for you! Do I have to make it more obvious?" She gritted her teeth and sucked in what was left of her confidence and her time.

He couldn't see her face, but as she spoke, he could imagine her smiling, the one that was ever-so bright in his eyes and never wavered.

"I'm keeping you safe not only because it's my job, but also because... I love you."

The sounds of constricted breathing inside the closet kept crushing her from the inside.

"Emma, I —!"

It left him no room to speak when he heard the door to his room opened, and the succession of gunshots took place.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours.

Silence consumed him, yet successions of calling out her name proved no merit.

She never answered.

IV.

"You are an idiot! An idiot, I tell you!"

Emma winced, not only for the pain inflicted on her by the graze of a bullet but also for the commotion caused by the man that had just barged through the door.

One look at him was enough of sedation for her; he was unscathed and safe.

She was about to lift herself up, gradually moving to position herself to sit on the bed, when his pair of arms reached out and enclasped her in an embrace.

His smelt of honeydew mixed with smoke, and she could feel the debris of wherever he had gotten himself into while she was asleep, against her cheek. Hearing his raspy shivered breathing against her ear struck every nerve on her body and the amount of tension on the tips of his fingers indicated that he was beyond worried for her dear life instead of his.

If they weren't surrounded by a mountain of eyes that would dare scrutinize this shared moment between then, she would've tackled him to the ground herself.

"I'm glad you're ok—"

"You idiot! Don't ever do that again!" His voice was demanding — pleading even, and seething through her skin. "I thought... I thought I lost you!"

His arms remained tightened around her, and she could only eye Ray with green eyes full of hesitancy. He only shrugged, but the way he cradled the smirk on his lips wasn't enough to deceive her.

She was merely her bodyguard.

She had no rights to him.

"Earlier," he voiced out, trembling, "You told me what you felt. What was I supposed to do inside that closet you locked me in, Emma?!"

The way he held her instigated that he no longer held any plans of letting her go.

"I wanted to keep you safe, si—"

"Do not call me 'sir'. I am simply Norman to you, and you're simply Emma to me."

His eyes are stained with unshed tears; only remorse for moments that he thought he'd never have with her again. "Will you let me hear it again?"

Emma seemed lost. "Hear what?"

His face softened with the memory. "What you told me earlier. Let me hear it once again. Let me know that it wasn't just a hallucination on my end."

That unexpected confession of hers from earlier earned her a bright, rosy blush all over her face.

"I-I have feelings for you."

Norman gave a low chuckle. "I guess that's another way of saying it. But I'm in love with you, Emma. From now on, stop being my bodyguard and simply be with me instead. Please, consider it." His smile came off sheepish. "I can't handle your constant disregard for your own safety for the sake of mine."

"B-but who's going to guard you?"

"I'll take over," Ray interjected, arms crossed over his chest. "It’s not as if I haven’t noticed the way you two have been acting for the last couple of months. Also, it's high time you stop being so reckless, Emma! You shouldn't have handled that situation all on your own. You could've called for back-up in his room!”

Emma nearly winced at Ray's reprimanding; he was right on the dot. She placed her sights on Norman and said, "But I'd still like to look after you. I've... grown to like it."

"Emma," he said her name a soft and gentle as he always had, and she knew that what would come next after her name were words meant to last a lifetime.

"I might not be as strong as you are with a gun, or as fast as you are when you run, but I'll look after you all my life, just as you'll look after mine. I’ll be your family. We’ll be a family."

Emma tried to suppress the grin on her face, but it failed spectacularly, and now she was facing him with immense joy, intertwining her fingers within his. His touch his warm and inviting, and it allowed her to further lament why she never allowed the idea of ever becoming his and him ever becoming hers.

"And we'll be equals?"

She searched his sights and he responded with the same amount of affection in his eyes; in his hold, she’d always be home.

"We were always equals."

#noremma #noremma prompt #the promised neverland #tpn emma #tpn norman #a bit angsty but it's a happy ending i swear

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