#she trap me with a false sense of security

[ohumokay]

I gotta start tracking my period bcuz wtf is homegirl doing 😭😭

[literalnobody]

That last panel though!!!!!!!!

>:3c

[amu-says-hav-says]

I can’t believe I went through all of Season 2 assuming Nina was the stand-in for Crowley when you actually pay attention it’s so CLEAR that she’s Aziraphale. I was tricked by her spiky, sarcastic, cynical outer shell and lulled into a false sense of security by Maggie’s bubbly optimism and wholesome goodness, because on the surface they reflect the ineffable husbands perfectly, in their personalities, their aesthetics, even many of their actions and morals. but not, and this is the real key, when it comes to their “relationship”. but those first impressions really had me damn fooled. 

I missed the blatantness of Nina’s “we’re just friends. actually we’re not friends. we barely know each other.” the same thing Aziraphale said in season 1.  the way he still struggles to quantify their friendship when Nina asks. Nina’s sarcasm when Crowley asks about rain and awnings because it worked for him (we all know it LMAO). hell, that whole convo the girls have in the rain is so AziraCrow (“I know. I’m not your type” “...You have no idea” hits so much harder the second time, help meeeee.) “Lindsay” maybe being symbolic of Heaven and Aziraphale’s toxic relationship with them and their abuse? (the handwritten text messages in red pen make me think of angry notes on paperwork, anyone else?) because Crowley has never actually cared about what Hell thinks of him, just not getting into trouble (or him or Aziraphale getting hurt). Maggie is always chasing Nina. NINA NEVER GOES IN THE RECORD STORE. Just like Crowley always goes to the bookstore, to Aziraphale, Zira NEVER WENT TO THE FLAT (apart from The Swap but that doesn’t count imo). Crowley has always chased Zira, not the other way around. Always there to rescue him, always going to him for company, always relying on their shared connection, always US. OUR SIDE. All through season one, he comes to Zira every time to work together, never trying to work alongside Hell in any way that isn’t to save their skins or Earth, while Zira hides things from Crowley because he STILL thinks Heaven is ultimately good and will do the right thing if he can just show them. fix it from the inside. 

Maggie working up the courage to finally say something, to put herself out there, while Nina is utterly oblivious and then when she does realise Maggie has feelings, becoming standoffish, putting up that barrier, fighting it, denying it, ITS SO CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE IN THAT ORDER. the way I was fooled into thinking Nina’s trust issues are Crowley because he does have trust issues ofc he does BUT Crowley has ALWAYS TRUSTED AZIRAPHALE. has always relied on him. has always been hurt when Aziraphale doesn’t immediately reciprocate the way he expects (the holy water request, the bandstand, the “off in the stars” etc). he’s always the one putting himself forward. Aziraphale has always been the one to second guess everything, to fight their connection, their similarities, their friendship. the girls really made me think it was going to be okay when they sat Crowley down, even as my inner sirens were going haywire about Metatron interfering, they were telling Crowley he just needs to open up and it’ll all work out BUT HE’S ALREADY AT THAT POINT. he may not say it, and by gosh is that part of their damn problem, but he’s always SHOWN IT. he’s not Nina who needs time to heal and recover from her broken trust, he’s always been Maggie believing it doesn’t matter, they’ll end up together in the end anyway AND I WALKED RIGHT INTO THE TRAP THAT THIS MEANT THEY WERE GOING TO BE OKAYYYYYYYYYYY

[riacte]

hermitcraft horror story staring false and ren in which it starts out as a fun silly haha world tour but after they pick up a bag at tango’s storage, they can’t find anyone— at least, anyone that can interact with them in some sort of meaningful way. hermits are afk, mysteriously run away, or turn mute. the world seems frozen in time— storages are empty, shops lack pricetags, creepers hide in doorways. no one talks to them. it’s like the world itself has stopped talking to them, the only sign of movement being the flicker on false’s multipass.

eventually things start getting Really Weird (weird even for their standards) so they hide in ren’s base and lock themselves in. the laika companion robot dog (that false gifted to ren) shows up for emotional support. something bad happens within the colony and they get separated, but they’re both able to navigate the colony (thanks to false’s multipass) and it’s a repeat of the house of nightmares lobby (aka. yelling out each other’s names repeatedly, except this time their voices bounce off empty corridors and echo eerily).

they find each other— or do they? BOOM imposter time (doctor who wild blue yonder style). false is instantly suspicious and keeps 10 blocks away from imposter ren (but she does this to the real ren anyway). ren is the complete opposite and goes omg false i found you :D let’s work this out together :DDD. imposter!ren desperately tries to convince the extremely paranoid false. meanwhile ren babbles to imposter!false who nods along. but false of course finds out the imposter is an imposter in a badass “the colonel calls me riza when we’re alone” way and instantly strikes. meanwhile our ren reveals he’s known the imposter false was fake from the start and was lulling her into a false sense of security so he could trap her (knowing he can’t beat her in pvp — this is also a reference to his demise 2 kill). false and ren reconcile. they also reconcile with the robot dog. and the space rats.

eventually they figure out a way to reset the server and turn it back normal with the power of twaddle and technobabble. the key ingredient is the macguffin— squirtiflora. and maybe chives. idk. anyways they twaddle their way back into reality because their back and forth twaddle feedback loop can break dimensions.

everything seems normal. they return the cursed bag to tango’s storage. they finally encounter a hermit (it does not matter who) and false and ren are too relieved to put on their salesman bit. it’s all smiles and giggles, the two leave, the hermit returns to their business. their smile fades. there’s an ominous pause.

false says bye to ren and returns to her base. the phantoms are still in their boats. maybe it’s a little quiet, or maybe it’s just the lack of ren.

unbeknownst to her, inside her pocket, her name on the multipass jolts. something flickers across the screen. then it powers off. her name is gone.

ren is cheerfully humming and making his way around his base and checking up on everything. but then something stops him in his tracks.

in sea of healthy plants, there is one dead plant— the first plant false created for him.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

500 Followers = 500 Words Event: Hyunjin

Hellevator

-> Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Staff!Reader

-> Requested by: Anon

-> Prompt:  Prompt 11 - Stuck in an elevator together. 

-> Warnings: Reader has a fear of elevators. panic attack.

-> Word Count: 767

-> Request: Closed.

500 followers = 500 words Masterlist | Main Masterlist

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

a/n: I'm giving them proper titles from now on.

Y/N steps into the elevator, her heart racing as she bows slightly to the person already inside, thanking him holding the door open for her. The man also bows in acknowledgment, and she can’t help but feel a little comfort that she isn’t alone in what she calls a death trap. Despite her seemingly irrational fear of elevators, she braves herself, determined to face her fear head on. After all, she’s running late for work, and the last thing she wants is to be late on her first day of working at JYPE.  

As the doors slide shut with a soft thud, she takes a deep breath, focusing on the man beside her. He’s calm, engrossed in his phone, and she tries to mirror his calmness as the elevator begins its ascent smoothly. For a moment, she allows herself to relax, the rhythmic hum of the machinery lulling her into a false sense of security.  

But then, without warning, the elevator jolts and the lights flicker, plunging the metal box into darkness and sending her heart into her throat. 

“No, no, no, no,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper as panic courses through her body. She reaches for the button to her floor and presses it frantically, but nothing happens. The only sound that fills the air is the unsettling silence and the faint sound of the emergency lights flickering on, casting a dim glow in the cramped space.  

“This can’t be happening,” she exclaims, her voice rising in pitch as her chest tightens, the air feeling thick as it becomes harder to breathe.  "Not today," she gasps, her mind racing.  

She takes a step back, pressing herself against the cool metal wall of the elevator, trying to ground herself. She closes her eyes for a moment, focusing on her breathing, counting slowly to five and back down again. 

It isn’t until she feels someone grasping her arm and turning her to face him that she remembers there is someone else in the elevator with her. 

“Just breathe,” she hears him say. As she opens her eyes, she meets the gaze of a man who looks genuinely concerned. "Look at me," he says in a calming tone, his eyes warm and inviting. "The elevator should start up again soon. I’m here with you. You’re safe."  

His gentle words begin to melt away the tension in her shoulders. Taking another deep breath, she focuses on the way his thumb softly caresses her arm, a quiet promise that he’s there for her.  

"I’m Hyunjin," he introduces himself, trying to engage her in conversation, hoping it will distract her. “What’s your name?" 

"Y/N," she replies, as her breathing starts to steady.  

"I haven’t seen you here before," he observes, taking a moment to look her over.  

"It’s my first day," she responds with a hint of a smile. “I usually take the stairs but I was scared it was going to make me late,” she breathes, her heart still pounding against her chest. “Big mistake.” 

Hyunjin laughs softly, a sound that resonates in the small space of the elevator. “Well, now they can’t be upset with you for being late,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief. The lightness of his tone makes her want to laugh along with him.  

But just as she begins to relax, the elevator suddenly jolts back into motion. The sudden movement catches her off guard, and she instinctively leans into him, her heart racing again but not just from fright.  

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s just the elevator starting again,” he comforts her, his tone calm and reassuring. She can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her, and it grounds her in a way she doesn’t expect. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes pulling away from him, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as the elevator reaches her floor. 

She feels a rush of cool air hit her as the doors slide open with a soft ding. She steps away from him, her cheeks still aflame, acutely aware of the proximity they had just shared and that a total stranger had just witnessed one of her panic attacks.  

“Thank you,” she thanks him with a nod, trying to avoid eye contact as she gathers her belongings, her fingers fumble slightly, betraying her flustered state and leaves the elevator before the doors close and he can say something else. A part of her hopes she won’t run into him any time soon, being too embarrassed to face him.  

Little did she know she would be seeing him again and a lot sooner than she expected. 

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[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Got a little bit of an angst prompt but...

After witnessing something go wrong on a mission, Hotch has Reader do a mental wellness check. At first, Reader says he's fine and all that, but the team still convinces him to do it. It goes well, he answers questions (he's honest about his answers. For example, he's not afraid to die because it's just a new chapter to a book). He ends up talking about "these weird anxiety attack things. Like they're sudden and I know what triggers them but I don't know what they are."

In short, the wellness check turns out to reveal that Reader has c-ptsd panic attacks triggered by mostly loud noises, yelling, abandonment. This makes reader break into tears when he's told this because he feels like he finally understands what is "wrong" with him. This surprises the team because no one expects the sunshine guy to have anything related to ptsd

(Maybe a little cuddle party on the plane between reader, Derek, and Spencer? Can be romo or bromo)

Hiya, sorry it's taken yonks for me to write this

Warnings: panic attack, dissociation, blood, gun, mentions of death, hints (obvious hints) to child abuse.

You felt her blood splatter on your face, as your eyes snapped shut with the familiar bang of a gun. You hear the victim fall to the floor but you had squeezed your eyes shut at the sound. Another shot goes off and you force your eyes open as you see the unsub drop to the floor.

You're silent on the way back, blood on your face forgotten as you follow the team back to the SUVs. When you're back, you follow the team up to the bullpen when You jump when a hand is placed on your shoulder, your head snapped up. You looked up, seeing Morgan. It's the look on his face that reminds you that you're covered in blood.

"(Y/N)-"

"I'm fine. I just- I need to wash my face." You said, disregarding anything Morgan had to say, making a beeline to the toilets. Naturally, he followed.

"Talk to me, what's going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing." You say, giving him a lopsided smile, face now blood-free and dripping wet. You grab a couple of paper towels, drying your face off. "Everything's fine, don't worry."

The team gave you a few days of peace (minus the worried looks). And by a few days, it was two, so a couple of days, really. They led you in with a false sense of security - a cup of coffee. You should have known they had an ulterior motive.

"Guys, I'm fine, really." You sigh, giving them a small smile.

"Just do it anyway," JJ says. "Even if you are fine, there's no harm in it."

"Do it for us," Garcia bats her eyelashes at you and you immediately cave. God damnit, how is she so persuasive?

And so, a few days later, you were sat in a psychologist's office. It was quite a nice office, actually. And they let you sit on the couch (that's how you know you must have looked like an anxious mess).

"Yeah, I'm fine." You say, giving a small nod. "The only thing is sometimes I get these weird anxiety things?"

"What do you mean?" She leans forward slightly.

"Like they're just these sudden bouts of anxiety," You give a small shrug.

"Can you describe it for me?"

"Er, yeah, sure. It's just like I'm trapped in my head. Like I just shutdown. I don't really know how to explain it," You give a small, nervous laugh. "It's just like I'm stuck in my head and I can't form a thought but my mind is racing, and I feel like I can't breathe."

She nods in understanding, "And how do you feel when that happens?"

"Scared."

"Why?"

"Because its like I'm trapped. And it's just this sinking feeling," You said, swallowing slightly. "And- and it's like I can speak, but I can't. Like the words get built up in my throat and I know what I want to say, I just, can't bring myself to speak."

"And... what can spark these off?"

"Um, I'm not really sure? Like if someone takes a certain tone, I guess? I don't know, it just makes me feel like a little kid and it makes me panic,"

She nods for a moment, jotting that down.

The appointment passes fairly quickly and you find yourself opening up to her as each minute ticks by. When the hour's up, she puts her notebook and pen down gently.

"I think it would be beneficial if we met weekly." She says, with a small smile. "Just to help you work through this anxiety, give you some coping mechanisms."

"Oh God, this isn't one of those things where you say to have a cup of tea or something, is it?"

She gives a laugh, "No, no, nothing like that."

"Good. I might have walked out otherwise." You give her a small smile, letting her know you were only half joking.

When the appointment was over, she let you have a few minutes alone in the room to gather yourself. It took you a few moments, you even tried out the square breathing technique she taught you. You straightened yourself out before standing up and leaving the room.

You go straight to your desk, keeping your head slightly ducked. You just really didn't fancy the socialising right now. You absolutely loved your team, but you'd rather just let yourself try to destress before the questions began.

"Are you alright?" Hotch asks, eyebrows furrowed as he approached you. He had waited a few minutes before he approached.

"Ye-" The word falls flat on your tongue and instead you just pause, trying to find the word. Why couldn't you find the word?

Hotch, sensing this, steers you gently into the unattended office to the right.

"I don't know." Is all you manage. "I don't think so." Hotch watches in concern as you blink. "No. No, I don't think so. Probably not. I don't think I am."

Hotch watches you for a moment before quietly sitting next to you. "Can you tell me what's going on?" You bite the inside of your cheeks before you gently shake your head. "No? Okay, that's okay. Did you want me to just sit here with you?"

You give a gentle nod, trying desperately to focus on breathing. It takes a while for you to calm down, but eventually, your heart starts to slow to a regular pace.

"You want to talk about it?" You shake your head and Hotch gives you an understanding look. "Okay, if you change your mind, I'm here."

"Thank you."

No one brings it up again. Until one morning on a case, you're on edge already, tossing and turning all night but unsure as to why you couldn't sleep. You're at the latest crime scene, it's the third body that's turned up since you've been there and the team are running on very little sleep.

A car door slams and it feels like it jolts through your body, matched with the yelling you can hear, you just freeze, breath catching in the back of your throat. Your father's voice echoes through your mind as he and your mother scream back and forth, the door slamming and the yelling becoming slightly more distant.

"(Y/N)?" Your eyes flick up to Morgan.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You answer quietly, giving him your very best attempt at a reassuring smile. You turn your attention back in front of you, watching a father grab his son's wrist, tugging him back. You know it's nothing, you had just watched the boy go to step out into the road. It's just a worried father stopping his son from getting hurt, but the skin on your wrist burns nonetheless. Your lungs are quick to follow.

Morgan's in front of you, trying to guide your breathing. It's rugged and you feel like you're dying. Your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest, hands trembling. And yet, despite all of these feelings in your body, you've checked out. You no longer feel real, none of this feels real.

You can't feel your calves. Are you supposed to feel your calves? Can you normally feel your calves? What about your back? And your forearms, you can't feel your forearms. That's weird right? Surely you could normally feel your forearms.

"Hey, hey, talk to me." Morgan says gently.

"I can't feel my forearms. Or my calves." You say, you swallow slightly, "I'm supposed to feel them, right?"

"Okay, let's sit you down, okay?" Morgan gently guides you to a bench and you sit. "It sounds like you're dissociating, so we're just going to take a seat for a minute, alright?"

"Okay."

The case was solved not long after that, and you all piled back onto the jet. You had dibsed the couch and halfway through, Morgan approached you.

"Scoot over."

"Why?"

"So I can tie my shoelaces- why do you think?" He gave you a grin, sitting down next to you. "Come here."

You looked around, everyone else was asleep. You gave a small, mental shrug before leaning against the taller man.

"Thanks for earlier." You smiled. "Sorry I freaked out a bit."

"You don't have to thank me. And you didn't freak out."

"I did freak out." You corrected, "I was panicking because I couldn't feel my calves."

"Okay, yeah, maybe you freaked out a little." He chuckled quietly, "But you don't have to apologise for that."

[dovithedarklord]

Stucked

You're trapped in a game and a new threat is lurking.

..............................................

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

Tags: Mentions of death, Mentions of blood and gore, Blood and Violence, Sexual Scenes, Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Not Beta Read, AFAB Reader

Trigger Warning: Contains violence, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

......................................................

Author's Note

This idea came to me while I was running and I had to write it down.

Just a short story that will have a sequel, I guess.

The story is inspired by this manhwa: https://cloudrecess.io/manga/dreadful-night

If you can, read it, it's great!

........................................................

You stare out of the car window with glassy eyes, and although it's not the first time that the lush green of the forest bathed in the light of the setting sun slips by on the horizon, it still manages to put the tension back into your stomach every single time. The peace out there could lull anyone into a false sense of security. But not you. It can't fool you anymore.

The same female voice comes from the radio, and you already know every single word of that damned song by heart. But even if you would show your displeasure, even if your companion sitting in the passenger seat would look for another radio station, the next time still the same godforsaken music would be playing. This is the background noise every time you return to the starting point, and it has almost become a habit that this melodic introduction starts your suffering all over again.

At first, as you woke up from your slumber in the back seat, the unfamiliar surroundings made you feel as though the vague world of your dreams had bled into reality, and now you found yourself in some bizarre fairy tale. But this is the twenty-second time that you come to your senses in the vehicle moving down the bumpy forest road, and you slowly start to get used to the stomach-turning cheerfulness repeated in a loop, which welcomes you every single time. And it was enough for you to feel the metallic taste of the blood filling your mouth once, and find yourself here again after feeling the icy pain of the knife slitting your throat, to understand that you are not in reality. Although the rough material for your jeans under your fingers, the floral scent of the perfume in the car, and the bitter taste of stomach acid creeping into your mouth seem perfectly real, just like the agony of your latest death, but you've learned that it's all just an appearance. An illusion. In which you have been imprisoned for weeks, and for exactly that long you are forced to die again and again, because you won't escape until you finally find the way out at the end of the mysteries that keep multiplying.

You don't know how you got here, but that doesn't matter anymore. The important thing is that you’re stuck in a game, and you have to find out how to get out of it before this madness consumes the last shred of your sanity.

A loud laughter comes from the front, the blonde girl sitting behind the wheel recounts with a grin, how her ex-boyfriend tried to perform an erotic dance to this song, and how it ended in a late-night visit to the ER. Pam is that typical obligatory extroverted character, whose only role in such games is to be brutally murdered when she's about to get naughty with someone. She's a nice but stupid girl, and it's not her fault that whoever created her intended her to have this tragic end.

Rebecca, your other companion, who only laughs at Pam's story while sitting in the passenger seat, shily hides the blush rising on her face with her hand. And although she's a charming girl, you've seen her bloody corpse too many times for you to remember her blank, worldless eyes and her pale mouth frozen in an eternal scream instead of her radiant smile. She is the first to die. Always. And you might have felt sorry for her in the beginning, but you no longer have the strength to have compassion for someone who only exists in this nightmarish world.

As soon as the outline of the homey cabin appears at the end of the road, the foreboding appears in you like a familiar friend, which slowly closes your insides in an iron grip, as if the pull of the stress that awakens in your veins would help anything. After all, it always ends the same. You search for a clue, you die and you end up here. And the only thing that keeps you from going crazy is the faint hope that the more secrets you uncover in this goddamn purgatory, the closer you get to the exit. Maybe.

The car slows to a stop in front of the location of your late autumn vacation, and the two girls jump out of the car with excited laughter, arguing over who will occupy which guest room in the huge house. The same dialogue, the same room layout, the same ear-splitting giggles from Pam's mouth that remind you of her screams cutting through the silence of the night, as she gets gutted like a trapped deer. You've seen her mangled body too many times for her laughter to revive the images of the delicate, wet glistening of her intestines, as the pale light of the moon surrounds her lifeless form on the cold wooden floor.

With a weary sigh, you grab your backpack resting next to you, mentally preparing in advance to once again suffer through the excruciating play that, like a prologue, leads up to the horrors that await you in the night. You list the thousand steps you have to take to find out where you are in the game, to discover if your previous death was in vain. Did you get a new puzzle that brings you closer to the finish line? Has another path been revealed for you to continue on, one that might finally take you back to the real world? Your chest hurts when you realize that you don't even remember what it was like to not live in this hell. With each passing night, the memory of reality floats further away, and the ghost of tears burns your eyes when you realize that even your real name sounds like a false fabrication in your brain. As if you never existed outside the confines of this dreadful place.

The door of the cabin opens with a loud creak, and this disturbs you from your thoughts that are spiraling into ever darker depths. And as a man appears on the doorstep, you almost taste the bitterness of anger on your tongue, because although anyone would be fooled by the wide grin on his face, anyone would be enchanted by those vivid blue eyes, and anyone would be swept off their feet by the playful friendliness he embraces your two traveling companions in his strong arms with as a greeting, but you already know him all too well. After all, Johnny has killed you at least eleven times, with the same sickly sweet smile on his curved lips, with which he now turns to you again.

"Bunny!" He beams, and you have to use all your strength to suppress the stomach acid rising in your throat from the nausea that fills you from the fake kindness emanating from him. "It's good to see ye again!" He pulls you into a tight hug, as you shamble to the small terrace, and as he presses you to his broad chest, his scent, which you would recognize from everywhere, creeps into your nose. The aroma of his cologne, the saltiness of his skin, and that smell that you couldn't quite place before. The smell of blood clings to him like a faint, barely perceptible phantom that only you can sense. You've witnessed it too many times.

"You too, Johnny."  You reply, each word burning your tongue like poison, but that's the script. You have to get into this act because there's no point in resisting. The story progresses the same whether you oppose it or not. The weirder you act in their eyes, the more the game will punish you later. And so you lose the chance of finding that tiny crumb that might help you get closer to your escape.

And from this point on, time crawls on leaden legs, and you sit through the impromptu dinner with gritted teeth, which was made by the man for you, while he was waiting for you to arrive at his modest little shack. He invited you here to celebrate your birthday. Your birthday according to the game, that is. You remember your own more and more faintly, and this makes you fall into despair enough to drag yourself through the events with a forced smile, like a puppet being pulled on a string by an unknown hand.

Sometimes you have the stray thought that you might be stuck here forever, and that you are forced to fight again and again in an endless circle, without end, without hope. And this suddenly makes the food taste like ash, which you force into your mouth with automatic movements.

"Is somethin' wrong, hen?" Comes the worried question, and blinking in confusion, you look up from your plate to Johnny, who is eyeing you with his dark brows furrowed in worry, as if your behavior would really disturb him. And you just shake your head with practiced happiness, putting a faint smile on your lips that doesn't reach your eyes.

"No. Not at all. My stomach is just a little upset. But it'll pass." You explain, quickly gathering your faux, artificial cheerfulness, because you can't deviate from the story now. Tonight you might have a chance to discover where the last clue leads to, and you shouldn't attract any unnecessary attention if you want to continue your search later. Let everything go in its own way until the shit inevitably hits the fan. But you still have work to do before that. It's only a few hours. You just have to bear it for that long.

This seems to calm him, for in an instant the lines of doubt disappear from his features, to be replaced by that disgusting kindness. And you are already familiar with the barely visible glimmer in those beautiful eyes, which makes you feel like a startled little rabbit being cornered by a fox. Johnny is a threat wrapped in honeyed words and friendly smiles, which was able to lower your guard one too many times. And you paid the price of your carelessness every single time.

And when the whiskey bottle, which was brought out in your honor halfway through the dinner, is finally empty, and the cake, which the man so generously bought for you before he came here, has been eaten, then the essential part of the evening arrives. Rebecca's phone rings, and she hastily apologizes so that she can go out into the cool night and immerse herself in the argumentative conversation she is having with her boyfriend. And you almost start to feel sorry for her, that death finds while she tries to get her love life straight. She doesn't even notice how deep the forest swallows her in the middle of the fight, and she is easy prey in the desolate wildness of trees and bushes. After the first three times, you no longer go after her or try to save her. You can't protect either of them. They are all animals for slaughter in the eyes of the game.

Johnny also retires for the night, claiming that the alcohol has gone to his head, and wishing you a "good night" he goes upstairs to sleep. For a while, you believed that he was indeed sleeping every time, and you honestly fell for the innocent performance he gave you, when the corpse of one of your friends was found. You seriously wanted to believe that he wasn't a threat to you. But then he broke your neck as easily as a twig. You will never be naive enough to trust him again.

"What a pity that you can't fuck your friends." Pam sighs longingly, and she almost undresses the man walking up the stairs with her eyes, biting her lip as her gaze glides over his broad back hidden trapped in the tight shirt. There is no denying that Johnny is an attractive man. It's a shame he's so handsome and even knows it. But the most evil creatures tend to be the most beautiful. You have learned this well.

Finally, you are alone after Pam has also left to take a shower, and you can begin what every nerve fiber of yours has been screaming for for hours. You jump up with nimble movements and hurriedly head in the direction of the kitchen, dropping the feigned serenity from your face. Last time, you found a dirty, yellowed picture in the woodshed, which took a while to decipher, but then you realized where to look.  As you enter the small room, you pull out the photo to hold it up in front of you, comparing it to the room bathed in the warm light coming from the living room. Although Johnny renovated this house, you can still easily find the wall where a refrigerator now rests, but based on the bright red circle in the photo, you have to look for the next clue somewhere there. You slip the picture back into your pocket and try to search for something suspicious with the flashlight of your phone, so you can better see what you're dealing with, there's no other use for this damn device anyway. You can't turn on the lights because that would immediately alert the other killer lurking outside. You learn a new lesson every time you fuck up, but you get smarter with each attempt. You'll be out of here soon. You have to get out of here.

As you peer under the fridge on all fours, squinting, a board creaks under your palm, pressing down a bit under your weight as you lean on your hands. You know that this is a sign, and as you kneel up to look for something to pry open the wood with, your eyes settle on a knife left on the kitchen counter. The whipped cream is still smudged against the cool metal, and suddenly the unwanted image enters your mind as the same blade slowly sinks into your chest, breaking through the protection of your ribs to then penetrate your lungs, pouring warm blood into your throat. You swallow hard, forcing the memory of the metallic taste out of your mouth, and steeling yourself, you wrap your fingers around the knife so you can get back to work, because you can't dwell on this right now. There's no point.

You stick the knife under the board and carefully pry it open, making sure to stay as quiet as possible because you don't know what will trigger the next death flag. Even though you are now aware of the signs and actions that lead the attacker to find you, this miserable game still has many surprises in store. With a soft squeak, the wood pops open, and as a small dark hole is revealed underneath, you take your phone in your hand and cast light on it, and like a wild animal pouncing on its prey, you reach for the small object shining in a golden light. Your fingers find the relic resting there, and you examine the key in puzzlement, as you pull it out of its hiding place. What does this open? Too small to be for a door. Maybe a lock?

The realization hits your brain like a bolt of lightning, and you spring up and turn back towards the living room. The hope that you might find something valuable rises in you, so you hurry through the room still shrouded in intimate silence, to sneak upstairs with silent steps when you reach the stairs. You know, if Pam shows up to the noise, she'll be on your trail the whole time, and that way you'll only attract trouble sooner. It might be selfish, but it's easier to let her die alone than to be hunted down together. You need time, and the more you waste on supporting characters, the less you have left to progress. But even because of this, your sense of guilt is starting to fade.

As soon as you reach the upper floor, you see the door at the end of the long corridor, on which even at such a distance you can faintly see the padlock that keeps it closed. Until now, this fact wasn't important to you, because it immediately became clear that you can only get in if you have the key. You can't hack it with anything else, you can't tear it down, this damn diabolical place will only let you in if you find the right clue to it.

You stalk like a cat in the darkness of the corridor, and the sound of your footsteps is absorbed by the soft carpet running along the floor. You consider your every move, because a new way out is possibly within your reach, and you fear that the chance to find the next important hint may disappear at any moment. Your own soft breathing sounds deafening to your ears, and each heartbeat feels as if your heart would want to burst out of your chest. Every inch of your body fills with anticipatory tension as you creep closer and closer…

And then you hear the voices.

At first, the muffled sighs seem like nothing more than the soft snores of one of your sleeping companions, but then you hear a moan, and you are overcome with confusion. The closer you get to the door opening from the middle of the corridor, the louder the panting and the gentle rustling of the bedsheets become, and you try to recall who could be hiding there according to the script. But nothing comes into your mind, because that room has been empty until now, without role or importance.

And as soon as you get close enough, you understand what is going on behind the door left ajar. The only source of light in the darkness of the room is the moon peeking through the window, but you can perfectly make out the movements of the tightly entangled figures. Johnny looks almost otherworldly as the pale light paints the dance of the corded muscles on his back as his mouth smooths over Pam's throat, eliciting a lustful moan from her. One of his strong hands slides along her breasts, and soon after his lips stray there, he almost viciously bites her nipple, to receive a pained gasp in response. His palm rests on her hips, and as he digs his fingers into the soft flesh, his hips only meet hers with vigorous movements, filling the heavy air with almost obscene, wet sounds. And as he kneels up, his fingers glide along her thigh almost teasingly, so that, hooking his hand in the bend of her knee, he directs her leg to his shoulder, locking it in a vise-like embrace that makes his biceps bulge. He brushes his lips against her calf, and you see his teeth flash for just a moment before he sinks them into the delicate skin, drawing a lewd whimper from her mouth opening in surprise. His movements are restless, each thrust seems violent and desperate, and she just grabs at the sheet and starts pleading, encouraging him in tears to sink his cock into her pussy just a little bit harder. And with each passing moment, Johnny looks more like a beast lost in his pleasure, as low grunts and moans erupt from his throat as he pushes himself closer and closer to the edge. And your feet are almost rooted to the ground, and you're unable to tear your eyes away from them, as you lose control over your body from shock and disbelief. Even though you know you shouldn't be here, you shouldn't be watching them, suddenly too much information rushes through your senses into your brain to process what is happening.

But as Pam's back arches with a loud cry, and Johnny's hips stutter with a growl-like sound, the surreal image ends, because the man turns his head towards you as if he knew you were standing in front of the door, frozen in astonishment. Your stunned gaze meets his eyes, dilated pupils swimming in lust, and you feel like a deer stuck in the headlights, waiting to be hit by a car speeding towards it. His mouth stretches into a lazy, satisfied grin as he slides out of the panting girl and slowly begins to rub his cock, as if to tell you that it could be you if you would just give in to the temptation.

And that clears your mind in the blink of an eye, and you back away hastily, almost running to the door resting at the end of the corridor, before you would have time to further analyze the features of the man's face filled with post-orgasm bliss. What the hell is this new scene? This has never happened before…

You reach for the lock hanging on the door with trembling hands, but your fingers are still clumsy from the adrenaline pumping through your veins, and they only find the keyhole after many tries. And in the middle of your fumbling, you don't even notice how a dark shadow appears behind you, and you only realize that you're late and have failed, when a gloved hand grips the back of your neck and smashes your head into the hard wood of the door with an almost painful strength. The force of the impact resonates through your skull, and you clench your teeth with a yelp as the sharp pain rips through your head.

Black spots swim into your field of vision, and you have trouble when you try to focus your eyes to decipher who attacked you this time. And as soon as you catch a glimpse of the skull-like mask out of the corner of your eye, you realize that this time you only managed to get this far. When the knife glints in the killer's hand as he strikes you, you only bitterly realize through the blood filling in your mouth that the game is trying to divert you from the escape with more and more vile methods. Because you're convinced that Johnny's action was just another death flag that ended your search prematurely. And you surrender yourself to the darkness with the knowledge that you cannot let this happen again...

~

When you come to, you're sitting in the back seat again, and the melody of familiar music reaches your ears only as a low hum, because you know you're back at the beginning of the game. But what worries you much more is that you walked into a scene the previous night, which not only completely deviates from the usual pattern of all the events until now, but also represents a downright disturbing new development. So far, the script hasn't gotten sidetracked from the main story in the case of the supporting characters, and Pam should have been waiting in the shower for the killer to appear when you sneaked up to find the door with the lock. The fact that this story has changed so drastically helps the icy fingers of dread wrap around your stomach. Because you have no idea what kind of difficulties this will cause you.

The usual conversation takes place between the two girls, and when you arrive at the wretched cabin, they leap out of the car with the same enthusiasm, as if they weren't heading towards another painful death. But it doesn't matter to them anyway, because surrounded by carefree ignorance, they don't even know what awaits them.

When the door opens and Johnny's well-known figure appears, his face filled with desire flashes before your eyes almost on a cue, and you forcefully push the memory out of your head. This little interlude distracted you just enough to know you shouldn't fall for the game's nasty tricks again. Because you are more and more certain that it actively wants to hold you back and trap you here forever. The heated spectacle of the previous evening can only be due to this…

"Bunny!" The man greets you with the same bursting, false joy that he always shows you, but now you have to forcefully drive away the moans echoing in your ears, which surface in your head when you hear his deep voice. "It's good to see ye again!"  He says enthusiastically, and as his strong arms wrap around you, every single muscle of yours tenses, as the stress wakes up in you as a result of the fear that grips your insides. But it's even more worrying, as new fragments of memories flood the canvas of your mind, because the experience of seeing those hands glide over the body of your companion is too fresh to quickly overcome your embarrassment.

But you don't have time to think about how to get over these tangled emotions and continue the play, because suddenly you feel the man's hot breath on your ear, and in an instant, every part of you freezes like a frightened animal when the predator digs its claws into it.

"I hope ye liked what you saw, bonnie." The man grunts softly, and for a moment you think you misheard it. But as one of his hands creeps down to rest on your waist, and he presses you closer to him, the air gets trapped in your lungs with an almost painful force. "Because ye'll be next..." He whispers, and in his voice lies such a dark promise that it makes your blood run cold.

And as if nothing had happened, the moment ends suddenly, and as he steps away from you, he only looks down at you with his usual nauseating smile. But you see the dangerous predatory sparks in his eyes, and his gaze makes the little hairs rise up on your neck. And you soon realize that something is very wrong with the game. Fuck.

[madhatterbri]

Take Me Back To Eden | L.M.

Summary: Lucius finds himself drawn to a muggle he met earlier in the day.

Author's Note: Happy September 1st.

Lucius Malfoy Masterlist

Taglist: @smallestsnarkestgirl @magicalbuttertarts

A scared woman ran through the streets, trying to find safety. Men and women with covered faces started to wreak havoc where she worked. They cursed anyone who was unfortunate enough to cross their path. Screams and pleas for mercy were left unanswered.

Rain ran down her face along with her tears. There was no hope for an escape. People who were ahead of her met a horrible fate. Their bodies would fall to the ground. Not wanting to meet the same fate, she ran down an alleyway.

Rats scurried along to hide from the rain and her. She found a dumpster and hid next to it. Scared but with a false sense of security, she curled up into a ball. Her face buried in her legs. Silent sobs racked her body. This was a scene out of a fantasy book. There was no way this was reality.

The sound of shoes walking through wet pavement cause her breath to hitch. There was no way one of them saw her. She slid closer to the dumpster. Maybe it would swallow her inside for safety. Within moments, a man was before her.

"Please don't," Y/N pleaded while staring at his wand. She shivered from the chill and rain. The man lowered himself, so they were at eye level. More tears fell as she tried to back herself away from him. The brick wall was a cruel reminder that she was trapped.

The man lifted his wand towards his face. He muttered some sort of spell. The mask on his face started to disappear. Long white-blonde hair now sat neatly down his shoulders. His pale skin is a sharp contrast to the black garments he wore. The grey eyes that stared at her reminded her that she saw him earlier that day.

"You, you're the man from my shop earlier," she recalled. The man smiled when he remembered. "Why are you doing this?"

The man didn't say anything. He took off a glove from his hand. Cautiously, the wizard reached out and touched her cheek. The woman sat frozen in fear as he caressed her.

[theweeklydiscourse]

One of the greatest crimes of the Shadow and Bone adaptation was the erasure of any intelligence or strategic capability The Darkling had in the books. Even in the books, he was still conked on the head pretty often to progress the plot, but he still was able to perform somewhat competently (if incoherently).

In the show, he’s a complete moron. I saw someone in 2021 ruminate on how specifically frightening he was to women and I just…where? Tell me, where is this frightening villain you speak of? Because all I see is a simpering idiot who falls for the most obvious traps imaginable and manages to get bested by the sun-summoner in training.

That one time when Alina used the bond to reach out to him and then pretended to be super into him so she could lure him into a false sense of security was a complete joke. As if The Darkling, in all his centuries of experience, would be so naive as to fall for such an obvious trap. But they NEED to make him conveniently dumb because if they didn’t, the heroes (and the writers) would actually have to use their brains to come up with a clever and not obvious way to defeat him. They can’t have him operating at full capacity because that would pose a legitimate threat to the heroes both physically and ideologically.

[marshmellowrio]

Semblance of Control | Chapter 3

Word count: 1.5K

Semblance of control Masterlist

After the cadets receive their standard uniforms, they’re shown to the dormitory’s and left to their own devices. Colette makes sure to grab one of the beds near the wall, with 155 other cadets on the same floor, it will give her a sense of security, maybe a false one. No, she wouldn’t put it past any of the other cadets to murder her in her sleep, but this way she would have one less side to protect in case of an attack.

She sees Violet and Rhiannon coming in to claim the beds on her right, right next to each other. She quickly puts all of her stuff away and walks up to the two of them, still talking quietly while dumping their bags.

“Violet and Rhiannon, right?” Colette hoped she had paid enough attention to Nyra when she called out Rhiannon’s name and that she wasn’t saying the wrong name to the dark woman.

Rhiannon looks her up and down. “Who’s asking?”

“Someone who wants an ally or two, and you guys are in my squad, so…” Colette trails off, not really having any other reasoning. The two woman across from her look at each other with distrust written on their faces. “My name is Colette, Colette Wilder.” She tries to meet them halfway. “And I want to help you,” she nods at Violet, “learn to protect yourself.”

“What makes you think I can’t protect myself?” Violet retorts. Fair question.

“You probably have a trick or two up your sleeve, you’re a Sorrengail after all, but I’m certain it can’t hurt to learn a few more. Especially if you have to go up against someone like, let’s say… our wingleader?” Colette answers.

Violet’s eyes widen and she opens her mouth to say something, but Colette’s already talking again. “Oh come on, the Marked Ones already have it out for you and even a fool knows that a Sorrengail and a Riorson is a bad combination.” She makes sure to keep her voice slightly hushed as she says this, keeping half an eye on the people around them, making sure no one’s listening in on their conversation.

Violet ponders for a moment while Rhiannon narrows her eyes at Colette. “What’s in it for you?”

Colette breathes out a little laugh, “ You’re smart.” She purses her lips and nods. “As I said, I need allies in this death trap.” She shrugs and continues, “ I also don’t like people holding children accountable for the actions of their parents.”

Rhiannon gives her a small nod, “Doesn’t mean I trust you, though.”

Colette looks down at her feet with a small smile playing on her lips, “Good,” she catches Rhiannon’s eyes with her own, “I wouldn’t trust me either.” She sees Violet frown in the corner of her eye and turns to her. “I wouldn’t-,” Colette stops for half a second, “I don’t trust anyone here, you shouldn’t either. Keep her close.” She nods to Rhiannon while speaking to Violet. She walks off to get ready for bed, leaving the other two to ponder over her proposal to be an ally.

★・・・・・・★

After Captain Fitzgibbons, another name Colette learned yesterday, reads through all of the names on the death roll, Squad leader Aetos takes over, “Hopefully you all ate breakfast, because you’re not going to get another chance before lunch.”

Colette is positioned in the back row again, she sees the two women she approached yesterday whispering to each other but keeps her attention on her Squad leader.

“Second- and third-years, I’m assuming you know where to go,” he continues. He receives some non-committal noises of agreement from the front rows. “First-years, at least one of you should have memorized your academic schedule when it was handed out yesterday.” It’s a statement, one Colette can agree with, it’s the first thing she did when she woke up this morning. “Stick together. I expect you all to be alive when we meet this afternoon in the sparring gym.”

“And if we’re not?” Colette snaps her head to the first-year next to her and rolls her eyes at the question, before focusing on Aetos again.

“Then I won’t have to be concerned with learning your name, since it will be read off tomorrow morning,” their Squad leader answers with a shrug. “Sawyer?” He looks at a first-year next to Violet.

“I’ll get them there.” He’s tall, Colette notes, as he nods tightly at Aetos.

Dain orders us to get a move on and the whole squad breaks up, similar to the other ones around them.

“We have about twenty minutes to get to class,” Sawyer shouts at the nine first-years left before him. “Fourth floor, second room on the left in the academic wing. Get your shit and don’t be late.” He doesn’t wait for a reply and heads toward the dormitory.

Colette hears Rhiannon say, “That has to be hard.” She catches up to her and Violet, following the crowd toward the dorms. “Being set back and having to do this all over again.” Colette receives a smile from the two as she reaches them, seems like they’re warming up to her already.

“Better than being dead,” the smart-ass from next to her says as he passes the three of them.

“That’s true,” Violet replies as they head into the bottleneck in front of the door. Colette makes sure to stay on the outsides of it.

“I overheard a third-year say when a first-year survives Treshing unbonded, the quadrant lets them repeat the year and try again if they want,” Rhiannon adds. Colette cringes at the thought of completing her first year twice.

A bird whistle sounds from the left and Violet stalls, fixing her eyes on the door to the rotunda as it sounds again. Colette and Rhiannon follow her line of sight as she says, “I’ll be-”.

“We’ll grab your stuff and meet you there. It’s under your bunk, right?” Rhiannon asks before she can finish.

“You don’t mind?”

“Your bunk is next to ours, Violet. It’s not a hassle. Go!” She bumps her shoulder with Violet’s.

Violet is off with a thank you as Rhiannon turns to Colette and they share a conspiratorial smile.

“So, I’m assuming Violet knows our Squad leader?”

“You would be correct.” Rhiannon answers with a little laugh.

The two women make their way to their bunks along with the rest of the first-years on their floor. Rhiannon looks back and forth from Colette and the path in front of her. “So, why didn’t you cut your hair.” She tries to start a conversation to make it less uncomfortable.

Colette brings a hand up to her tight, low bun, brushing away the stray hairs that aren’t there. “It’s not that long, but I actually wasn’t aware of the fact that women cut their hair to join the rider’s quadrant.” She smiles awkwardly as they reach the bunks. “I mean, I’ve never had any problems with it while sparring so why would I?”

Rhiannon nods in understanding, grabbing her stuff and Violet’s. “I’ve always had mine this short or even shorter so I wouldn’t know what’s it’s like fighting with longer hair.”

“Maybe I’ll think about cutting it if it causes me to lose my matches, otherwise it’s not happening.” Colette laughs softly and Rhiannon joins in as they head back towards the academic wing.

The two of them keep chatting on their way to the doors to the rotunda and start to warm up to each other in the meantime. They step inside the rotunda and Colette’s breath catches. “Wow.”

Rhiannon stops a few steps ahead, feeling Colette lagging behind. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She looks at Rhiannon, “You go ahead, I want to take this all in for a second.” Rhiannon nods slowly and continues on towards the academic wing.

Colette turns back to the six marble statues of the dragons, not having passed through the main rotunda yet. Her breath got taken away by the dragons instantly, she marvelled at the sight of them. Wandering closer to the black statue, she cranes her neck to look at it more properly.

The light filtering through from the glass dome, glitters on the black marble.

“I already knew you’re parents are tight,” Colette hears a voice call out from up above. She shifts her gaze a bit to find Riorson standing on the balcony, staring down. “But do you two have to be so fucking obvious?”

Colette frowns at his words and follows his line of sight, down to the middle of the rotunda where Violet stands with Squad leader Aetos at her back.

“I expected you to do a better job of hiding where your affections lie, Aetos.” Riorson starts walking down the steps. As he does, Colette starts walking to the space between them. His eyes brighten when they find hers, watching him closely. Monitoring him as he moves closer to Violet.

His focus shifts to Violet again as she bolts for the doors to the academic wing. Colette startles at the sudden movement, she casts one more glance in her wingleader’s direction before following after her… ally?

A/N: Let me know what you think of this chapter in the comments! There is a taglist for those interested in joining, leave a comment below and I'll add you for the next chapter.

Chapter 4 click here.

Taglist: @siobhanbooks @bada-lee-ily

[apritellointeractive]

Sworn to Devotion: Chapter 2 - Part 6

>> Donnie asks April what's wrong.

(Art by @lovelyladylavie)

Sobs continue to wrack April’s small frame as she collapses against Donatello’s chest, sorrow and self-pity pervading her entire body. She’s not quite sure why her knight’s story about the unfortunate circumstances of his birth triggered the waterfall streaming down her cheeks, but it did. 

His father—the King of Terrapathia—had lost his wife and was used for Draxum’s twisted experiments, something that should have hardened his heart for good. Yet he still had the compassion to not only save her knight and his brother, but raise them within the safety and comfort of their kingdom.

It’s far more kindness than her own father has ever shown her, and she’s a princess by blood. There was no devious plot to make a replacement child involved in her birth.

Although if that was true, maybe it could explain why her family treats her so poorly.

April feels arms awkwardly wrap around her form, large hands patting the top of her back. The kind gesture soothes her a little, but tears continue to stream down her face. Memories of her past two decades of life dance across her eyes, as if taunting her.

Above her, the knight clears his throat. “Er, um, there there, Princess April. Why are you crying on my armor?”

April wetly laughs. His question sounds like he’s attempting to navigate a passageway covered in booby traps, afraid that his next cautious step could trigger an axe to swing directly at his head.

But still, his efforts to comfort her do not go unnoticed. A small smile spreads across the princess’s face, appreciating his attempts to console her.

The bereft princess pulls back away from Donatello’s chest, using her sleeve to wipe her eyes and nose before wrapping her arms around herself. She cringes at how wet the front of his armor is, but she tries to ignore it so she doesn’t break down again. Her knight’s hands shift to rest on her lower back, and the steady hold helps April ground herself.

“I’m sorry. It’s just–” April lifts a hand to wipe away another tear that dared to escape down her cheek “–you, I… Prince Raph and King Splinter treated me with such kindness and respect during my visit that I thought they were luring me into a false sense of security. But now I know from your story that it’s not true.”

Her knight is silent for a moment. “Why did you think we were trying to do that?”

April looks away from his and off to the side, staring into the darkened forest. “My father is… not a good man. Sure, he can rule the kingdom adequately, and he loves my brother, but… I’m clearly just the spare to him. He doesn’t let me attend any royal meetings, or weigh in on any decisions. He berates me whenever I make any mistake, and he doesn’t give me the freedom to walk the halls of my own home. He doesn’t even let me wear what I want!”

“He doesn’t give you freedom to live your own home?” Her knight asks, flabbergasted.

The princess nods. “Yeah. If I didn’t follow ‘royal etiquette’ or spoke out of line, he’d ground me to my room and have guards keep me in there.” She shrugs. “Sometimes I was able to sneak out, but I’d usually get caught. Didn’t stop me from trying I guess. I’ve lived too much of my life stuck in my own bedroom.”

“I’m sorry.” Her knight’s voice is quiet, and in-between her sniffling she almost doesn’t hear it.

“And he, well... he spoke terribly of you and your people. Always told me you were untrustworthy monsters. So when he told me that I was to be wed to your Crown Prince–” she takes a quick look at him “–a decision I had no say in, by the way, I… I guess I assumed that I’d be treated worse. I-I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

Donatello leans forward. “But the King said you consented to the marriage?”

April shakes her head as a hollow laugh leaves her lips. “Haha! No. I wasn’t even told where we were going until I was packed up and in my carriage.”

“Pardon my language, but your father is a terrible excuse for a King.” Her knight’s hands move from her back to her arms, his thumbs rubbing up and down her sleeves. “If you would like to back out of the engagement, I can talk to Prince Raph. He only wants the best for you.”

She briefly considers the offer. Her eyes widen as she realizes that rejecting the marriage would just mean that she’s stuck at home, and her father might marry her off to someone worse. And she would also not see her dutiful knight ever again.

April shakes her head. “No! It’s ok.” She lifts her chin to look at him, albeit the darkness makes it difficult to see him clearly. “If Prince Raph’s treatment of me is any indication of what our marriage would be like, then I think it won’t be so bad.”

“I can assure you he’ll treat you with the respect and care that you deserve as the Queen of Terrapathia and as his wife.” Donatello places his hand on his chest armor. “I swear on it as a knight.” 

April smiles. “Thank you.”

The exhaustion of the heavy conversation quickly catches up with her, so they decide to finish up what’s left of the crackers and jerky before settling down for the night. Donatello offers to keep watch for the first half of the night, positioning himself so he can guard the edge of the shallow concavity within the rock. 

April makes herself as comfortable as she can, despite the less-than-agreeable conditions of their hiding spot. She reminds herself that this won’t last, as she’s more than confident that her knight will get her home safely.

Her eyelids flutter closed, sleep quickly washing over her as Donatello keeps watch.

>> Green >> Red

[sea-owl]

@swallowedbyfandom :

Can we get people scared of Lady Whistledown and lulled with false sense of with security by her pretty, pretty husband. I just would really like a trophy husband Colin and Pen's arm. I think it would be funny because we all know he is unhinged.

This reminds me of my one post where the polin kids' future spouses basically treat Penelope like the head of a mafia family and ask her for permission to marry her kids.

Imagine an au where polin is running Lady Whistledown's empire together. Penelope is the one who started and is the head of the operation. Colin serves as her right hand and, to a degree, her bodyguard. He is perfectly happy with this, too. His main concern is making sure his wife is safe. He can't stop her. He's tried, so he's doing the next best thing. The majority of the time, they're disguised as a lady's maid and a valet to the Whistledown couple, but there are also times where they go as Lady and Lord Whistledown.

Whistlwdown's trade has always been secrets, and information. It originally started as gossip passed around the ton but then expanded the more secrets Penelope began to learn. Soon she got requests for certain secrets from potential buyers willing to pay a pretty penny.

There are rumors about Lady Whistledown like she's been nicknamed a snake charmer, and it's best not to cross her for you never know what secret she knows. They say one stroke of her pen and she has the power to control your life however she pleases.

The rumors for Lord Whistledown have been kinder. They say he's much more friendly than his wife, easier to talk to. They say if you truly want to get to Lady Whistledown you need to go through her husband first.

For many this is probably the most dangerous trap Lady Whistledown has set.

Lord Mason, a rather young thing and new to his title, made his way towards the meeting spot. He was told he was a fool going to Lady Whistledown, London's most notorious source for secrets. If anyone has the information he needs, it will be her.

"There has to be some irony here," Lord Mason thought as he set his sights on the church he would be meeting the Whistledown couple at.

The church was empty except for two people sitting in one of the pews. A man and a woman. Both were wearing cloaks and masks, making it hard for the young lord to find any identifying features about them. The air about them, though, was different from each other. The woman sat straight with her head held high, a calm confidence radiated from her. Meanwhile, the man was much more relaxed. Leaning into the woman he sat next to in an almost playful nature.

There was a chair in front of their pew facing where the sermon would be held. It would put whoever sat in the chair right in front of the couples' line of sight.

Lord Mason took his seat, and a sense of danger hit almost immediately. It felt like he was being studied.

"Lord Mason, I presume?" A soft feminine voice rang out.

The young lord tried not to flinch. "Yes," he answered.

"My the rumors did nor say the young lord was just barley out of Eton. You poor thing to lose your father so young."

Lord Mason found himself about huff but the turn in tone, and the hand that reached out to ruffle his hair, it was such a maternal thing to do. How long since he was touched like this? At least before Eton, maybe even longer. But even as the move was meant to calm him there was that sense of danger that would not leave him alone.

Lord Mason peaked from the corner of his eye. The hand in his hair belonged to the woman. The man still did not turn to him, his full attention on the woman.

"You have a request for me?" Lady Whistledown asked.

Lord Mason nodded. "My older brother, or rather my cousin, I know he has done or is doing something that will ruin our family. We are already suffering enough due to the loss of my father. We can't go through much more."

Lady Whistledown hummed. "And what makes you so sure your cousin is up to something?"

The young lord found himself glancing to the Lord Whistledown, who gave a nod as if urging him to continue. "He has been sneaking out, breaking mourning. He claims to be out drinking or seeing a mistress, yet he does not smell of alcohol nor a woman. Add that on top the money he has taken out recently and I know he's up to something."

Lady Whistledown hummed again. "It appears your cousin does have a secret to hide. What is his name?"

Lord Mason found himself hesitating. Was he really about to set one of the most dangerous women in London on his cousin? The young lord thought back to all the times he had tried to talk to his cousin before this. His worry about the sneaking out and the lying. His cousin, who was more of a brother, never lied to him before, so why is he doing it now? "His name is Mr. James Mason."

Lady Whistledown nodded. "Thank you Lord Adam Mason. I have something I need to look over and then we may take our leave."

Adam flinched. He never gave his Christian name.

Lady Whistledown stood up from the pew and made her way to a different part of the church. Her slippers made no sound as she walked.

She was gone, Adam should be able to breathe easier so why does he feel like he's still in danger?

A hand rests on Adam's shoulder and it's the only thing stopping him from jumping from his seat.

"Hey, it's OK. I know nerve-wracking to meet such a powerful lady."

Adam looked over. Lord Whistledown's attention was fully on him now. Adam couldn't see his face under the mask, but he felt like he was smiling. Adam felt himself mostly relax.

"She has quite the reputation," Adam said.

Lord Whistledown nodded. "That she does. A fact my wife takes pride in. She's worked so hard over the years and to see her work come to fruition it just gives her the most adorable smile."

Adam chuckled. Who knew the scary lady of secrets was this adored by her husband. She can't be that dangerous then right? No man wouldn't love his wife this much otherwise.

Adam spends the next few minutes with Lord Whistledown in easy conversation until Lady Whistledown returns.

She whispered something in her husband's ear, who nodded and stood up. Lady Whistledown takes his place in the pew.

"Lord Mason I do believe we can come to a deal. You are aware of my fees?"

Adam nodded, handing over the first payment. "I shall have another ready should you find any information on James."

Lady Whistledown nodded. "Very good."

The two shake on their deal. Her touch now, it feels warmer? Softer? The feeling of danger, he no longer felt it. Why was that? Was it his talk with Lord Whistledown?

Lady Whistledown stood up from the pew and made her way to the exit where she was joined by her husband. They talked and Lord Whistledown looked back at Adam.

Adam felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. The feeling of danger, it was back.

Oh yes, Lady Whistleddown earned her nickname as the snake charmer, but what a lot of people don't realize is that one of her snakes is her husband.

[k3igol0ve]

"YOU'RE A WEAPON, AND WEAPONS DON'T WEEP." ᥫ᭡. KID!HAWKS ⁀➴GENRE: Hurt, no comfort. Warnings: Abuse, threats, child soldier, trauma, negligence.

"Weapons don't weep." , they are to be incapable of showing emotions. They are trained to be perfect; a cut above the rest, gazed upon with saccharine smiles no matter the circumstances. Human emotions are a vital flaw.

Keigo Takami does not remember the last time he weeped, let alone allow an ounce of emotion slip. He doesn't remember how long its been since he had inhaled fresh air, his senses clouded with the burnt smell of smoke from cigarettes littered on the floor, the strong smell of cheap alcohol wafted through the already pungent air. He was nothing less than a caged bird, how ironic. Tomie Takami. Mindless murmurs, unrecognisable and almost incoherent; spilled from his mother as she blankly stared into the luminescent TV, her mind was nothing but radio static. Almost as if she was a shell, a husk and a memory of a human. 'Takami.' His own mother had murmured, her tone dull and almost lifeless. To Keigo, it was a silent warning; he knew it all too well. The stench of alcohol overwhelmed the worn down 'shack'. Takami was paranoid, hysteria driven. Eyes blown out with hatred and anxiety, he stared at his loathed son. That horrifying look etching itself into Keigo's mind. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME FOR?" His voice shifted into a harsh growl, almost a gurgle as he looked at his son with frenzied eyes. Keigo was unable to find the voice in him to respond, eyes shifting around the confined area. His father was fuelled with anger directed towards his undeserving son, violence was a relief to his paranoia. Before Keigo was able to register, Takami's leg connected to his side; harshly kicking him away as Keigo hits the wall with a thud, his face barely getting scraped by the splints of the disintegrating rotting wood, yet he held his Endeavor plush tightly as if protecting him from the impact. "USELESS." His father spat at him. Barely a whisper, he muttered a broken apology under his breath, eyes casted downwards as his father stomped away, cursing crudely as he stomped away.

Truly, it was a blessing to Keigo when his dreams became reality. He'd escape his confines of his rusted cage. He flew right out of a rusted cage, into a glided one. A cage nonetheless. An offer that all his dreams would come true, they'd make him a hero.

"I just wanna see you flourish and I know you'll make it far." He was too young to know what he wanted. [Lyn Lapid- Producer Man] Keigo didn't exist, only Hawks did. The Hero Public Safety Commission worked in a unique way. They took advantage of his emotional wellbeing. It couldn't generally classify as abuse because he had done everything on his own accord. They played his emotions like a puppet on strings, until he himself was incapable of determining his own wellbeing. Selfless.

" You'd make your mother proud. " or " You'll be as strong as Endeavor! " Praise; was something foreign to him, especially when the words his mother had uttered bore itself into his mind; " What are your wings even good for? " He strived towards praise, pushing himself forward for false praises. He craved validation. They had played with his dreams until they had dimmed, then later diminished. Manipulation eased itself into his system. After all, he did believe he owed them his life. You can't release a domesticated bird into the wild after raising them since young. They'd be lost; he'd be lost without them. The commission had fully taken advantage of this, his complaints went without notice once he was secured into their system. It didn't matter, he was trapped with them. He had nowhere to go. Like birds, they gave him the essential to survive, a false sense of security while they trained him to do tricks, their dirty work. ' Everything was okay, he would become a hero. If anything he should be grateful. '

What they were doing were unorthodox. They were robbing his childhood in broad daylight, yet he didn't exactly view himself as the victim. Naively, he takes their best interest at heart. The only emotion he was capable of feeling was guilt, mind eating paralysing guilt. The less he trained, the chances of someone dying increased. The soreness, ache, or burning pain didn't matter if it meant someone could perish just because he wasn't good enough or fast enough. Was he enough? Guilt wasn't an emotion, it was motivation. His role in society came first, the greater good came first. His own behaviour was nothing less than self destructing. The HSPC does everything without ever lifting a finger. His own desires were selfish thoughts. The commission has clipped his wings and he hadn't even realised it.

Emotions are such fickle things.

[bendycxmet]

Drive pt. 2—Nicholas D. Wolfwood

drabble: now what happens when it's your turn to drive?

content: 785 words. our turn to tease wolfwood!, nothing explicit but we do get a bit suggestive, smoking, wolfwood the passenger princess

pairing: gn!reader x wolfwood

a/n: here's part 1. thoughts of wolfwood live in me when i drive now

“Don’t be afraid of Angelina. She’s not gonna hurt you. Plus, we’re in the middle of nowhere so you also can’t hit anything.”

Your hands gripped the wheel in nervousness. Ever since the last ride you had with Wolfwood, he had inquired if you had driven a car before. You told him no, that growing up, not everyone could afford a car of their own. Especially in this economy. He had chuckled at that, mumbling something about “and I didn’t buy Angelina, either.” You shouldn’t be surprised this car wasn’t rightfully his.

“Sure, but how do you know what everything does? Like these buttons, and these sticks on the sides of the wheel. Also, the hand-eye coordination of handling this entire death trap is tripping me out-”

“Hey, easy now. Take a breather. I promise I can be a good teacher. I’ve demonstrated that in the past, right? Now, let’s start easy. 10 and 2 on the wheel, sweetheart.”

Maybe it was a part of his plan to keep you flustered as a distraction from your anxiousness. It worked, mildly. You followed his instructions, feeling the vibrations of the car lull you into a false sense of safety, persuading your brain into security. 

“Now, shift the gear to drive, and let your foot off the pedal. Don’t accelerate just yet. Let the car roll a bit.”

You take one hand off the wheel to shift gears, startling a bit when the car suddenly moves.

“There you go, easy does it. Just like that.” You feel your entire body spark to life, warming at his praise. Nothing can ever be normal with Wolfwood. He always has to play around with you. “Hands back on the wheel. Slowly add some pressure to the accelerator, but keep your foot light when you feel comfortable at whatever speed you feel like. Let’s cruise a bit on this stretch of road.”

Pushing your foot lightly on the accelerator, the car picks up its speed. You lift your foot off a tiny bit so that the car doesn’t accelerate further. You laugh manically, giddy giggles escaping you. You’re actually doing it!

“Hey, this isn’t so bad! How am I doing Wo-” your words stumble and dissolve on your tongue, heart freezing when you feel his hand come to pat your thigh.

“You always do so good for me.” You look over at him, just in time to see him wink at you before placing a cigarette between his lips, flipping the lighter in that signature way of his, and lighting the cigarette on the last flip with just one hand. You feel your breath stutter. That was hot. 

You train your eyes on the road, accelerating, unconsciously attempting to match the speed of your heart. You have to get back at him today, in some way. You tongue your cheek in thought, gritting your teeth to reel your train of thought back in when you feel Wolfwood’s hand rise up, squeezing your inner thigh. Bastard. 

“Wanna slow down a bit? We’re in no rush-” 

“Who said we aren’t?” you interrupt him, a biting edge to your voice, warning him. He quirks an eyebrow in question. Your eyes seek his cigarette from your periphery, hand coming to snag it from his lips. You inhale for a couple of seconds, feeling the smoke accumulate in your lungs before it begins to burn. Slowing the car down, you finally turn to Wolfwood. He’s looking at you in bewilderment, not used to the brazenness that you are currently showing but nevertheless fully turned on by it. 

You cup his jaw, squeezing your fingers on each side of his cheeks, effectively propping his mouth open. You lean in, close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips. Exhaling, you shotgun the cigarette smoke that was held in your lungs directly into his open mouth. The smoke disappears, Wolfwood inhaling the shared nicotine as if it were the oxygen he needed to breathe, eyes rolling back. Placing a chaste peck on his lips, you let go of his stubbled face, chuckling to yourself as you settle back into your seat. You got him hook, line, and sinker.

Wolfwood’s moan as he exhales the smoke has goosebumps rising on your skin. Again, you accelerate the car, heading back to the hotel. 

“Yeah, you better get this car to our hotel after what you just pulled,” Wolfwood growls, his hand squeezing your thigh now with a bit of desperation. 

“Better buckle up then, because you’re in for a ride Wolfwood.” This time, it was your turn with the double meanings. With the way Wolfwood groaned beside you, he was more than happy for you to take charge. 

masterlist

divider by saradika

[burnthoneydrops]

can you do a isaac mcadoo of colin trying so hard to wingman for him with the reader who is friends with keeley and colin being (adorably) bad at it but obviously she likes isaac?

Flirting 101 (i.m. x fem!reader)

pairing: isaac mcadoo x fem!reader

word count:

warnings: alcohol, use of y/n, language (maybe)

a/n: awww i loved writing this so much!! all the boys are my favourite so writing for different ones is so much fun! thank you for the request and i hope you like it!!

“Babe, come on! I promise it’s just the restaurant, it’ll be chill!” Keeley’s been begging you to come to a Richmond night with her for the past 20 minutes. 

“Those boys do not know how to be chill,” you shoot back, shutting your laptop, “besides, you just want me to go so you can not-so-subtly push me into Isaac at some point”. 

“What?! I would never! What kind of friend do you think I am?” Keeley tries to look offended but it’s not long before her facade breaks and she laughs. 

“Case in point,” you roll your eyes, putting your laptop in your bag and getting out of your chair. You were thankful to Keeley for getting you a job at her PR firm, as you were one of her best friends, but it was moments like this that made you regret saying yes. You would say you were her best friend, but you do not need the backlash from Rebecca on that, so you settle for being one of them. 

“But you have that pretty top that would be perfect! You know, the black one with the fancy sleeves?” She gestures across her arms in case you forgot where sleeves go. 

“Ugh, fine! But if you try and pull something or it gets super loud or whatever, we’re leaving,” you look her directly in the eye. 

Keeley squeals, gripping you in a tight hug and jumping up and down. “I swear, it’s gonna be fun”. 

To your surprise, you’re sitting at a corner table in Ola’s and everything seems to be going pretty well. Keeley hasn’t really left your side; except for when she ran towards the entrance to trap Rebecca in a bear hug and drag her over to your table. Roy and Jamie were sitting at a table across the aisle from you, and Richard and Dani looked like they were in a very deep conversation about something you didn’t even want to try and guess. You sense a presence walking up beside you and notice Colin placing his beer down on your table. 

“Good evening ladies,” he addresses the table. “Oi, Y/N, didn’t expect to see you here”. 

“Oh, well Keeley basically begged me to come so-” 

“I did not beg!” 

“The security cameras at KJPR beg to differ,” you turn to look at her and she’s quick to shut up.

“Well anyway,” Colin starts, bringing the attention back to him, “could I maybe get you lot a drink? Round on me?” 

The three of you nod before each listing off your preferred drinks. As Rebecca tells Colin what she’d like, you look around the room and catch Isaac’s eyes. He seems to be intently staring at your table and you give him a small smile and a wave before he shakes out of his trance and clears his throat. You shake it off, not wanting to give yourself false hope that he was staring because of you and turn back to the group at hand. 

“Alright, I’ll be right back,” Colin smiles before he leaves to go place the orders. 

“Well that was awfully nice of him,” Keeley comments. 

“A little out of the blue, but yes,” Rebecca adds. 

You eye Keeley suspiciously, making her raise her eyebrows at you. “What?” she questions. 

“I’m not sure you had nothing to do with that”. 

Keeley grabs your hands, keeping them in place on the table, “people are allowed to do nice things for you just because”. 

You don’t have time to argue with her before Colin returns with the drinks, placing them down on the table in front of you. You all thank him again before he heads off back to his seat next to Isaac and the two begin to whisper. Before you can think about it too long, Rebecca grabs your attention again. 

“So, any news to update me on ladies? How’s life at KJPR?” 

“Oh it’s great! Working with your best friend always makes things better of course-” 

“I thought I was your best friend!” Rebecca interrupts Keeley. 

“I’m allowed to have more than one,” Keeley reassures her. 

“But the whole point of your best friend is that one person is the best. That’s literally what best means-” 

The two are interrupted by another drink being put down on the table. This time it’s Isaac, looking as uncomfortable as ever, standing like a plank at the table’s side. 

“This is for you,” he looks at your forehead, not quite making eye contact as he pushes the drink closer to you. It’s the same one you had told Colin about, though you weren’t even halfway done with that one and you weren’t going to question how Isaac had gotten it so fast. 

“Oh, thanks Isaac,” you reply awkwardly, gripping the glass and moving it that little bit extra away from the edge of the table. You try to suppress how warm your cheeks feel, but you know it’s pretty obvious just by the way Keeley and Rebecca are acting out of your peripheral vision. He nods and walks away and you want to slam your head on the table with how awkward you just were. 

“Oh my god you have to go talk to him,” Keeley exclaims. 

“No, I am absolutely not doing that!” You lean your head on your crossed arms so you’re looking down at your lap. 

“He bought you a drink, babes, that’s like flirting 101!” 

“No! Jesus Christ that interaction was awkward enough, I don’t need to make it worse”. 

“Come on! Woman up for God’s sake!” Rebecca laughs, kicking you under the table. 

“Ok! But only because that hurt,” you rub your shin before grabbing a napkin and a pen out of your bag. “But once I do this, I’m leaving,” you announce to the two of them and Keeley nods, getting ready to follow you out. 

You scribble a note and your phone number onto the napkin, quickly standing up and pushing your chair back before making your way over to the table Isaac was sitting at. You drop the napkin in front of him, not even checking if it actually landed on the table, thank him quietly for the drink once again and bolt out of there. 

If you wanted my number, you could have just asked :) 

+**-***-***-****

-Y/N

“You did it!” Keeley cheers as she closes the door to Ola’s behind her, following you to the car. She’s a giggling mess beside you, and it doesn’t take long before you join her, hoping you did the right thing.

[nereidprinc3ss]

lowkey the hair brushing thing gets even more sinister when u realize (all based off my speculation btw) that physical touch is tbh dybmn couple love language … at least to each other maybe even spence more so than r cause he’s alwaysss touching her and u can just tell it brings a sense of calm and safety to reader too like his hands are always on her or he’s wrapped around her in some way and that’s one of the biggest ways he calms her down OMG HE SAID IT HIMSELF LIKE. EVEN IF HE DIDNT MEAN IT IN THIS CONTEXT IDC IM RUNNING WITH IT he was legit like “the only way i can get you to calm down/get out of your head is to touch you” in pt 4 and so him brushing her hair back is almost lulling her into a false sense of security before … all that … and also reader thinking too that like she knows it’s a trap but can’t help but want to melt before he says all that to her oh spencer ngl we’re gonna have to jump you …

this is real bc let me say one of my BUGGEST hcs for spencer is that his love language w a physical partner would be touch. ik it seems counterintuitive to his character but he IS a hugger like have you seen the way that man hugs???? i think when he really trusts and cares for someone that’s his love language

so that’s just another thing he’s throwing in her face but if we take a less sinister view of it he might be touching her in that scenario just to touch her because it still makes HIM feel better even if he’s about to be a cunt but if you really read into it you will see that his feelings are also hurt