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#i wish id never started writing it. i wish i could experience writing it all again. i want to be done yesterday. i never want to finish

ai-luni · 2 years

Text

You are everything good in this world

Peter Ballard/Henry Creel/001 x fem!reader

Series Masterlist, Part 2.1

Word count: 8.2k

Summary: You are an innocent, naive nurse fresh out of school when you receive a job offer in which you think you’ll get to help young orphaned children. Instead you dig a little too deep and find the horrid truths of your work with the help of an orderly who calls you everything good in this world.

Warnings: Literally everything... Peter himself, Dr Brenner himself, Violence, torture, a spider, swearing, slut shaming, smut 18+, overstimulation, toxic traits, gaslighting, ANGSTY TRAGIC ENDING, bad writing

A/N: I’m not a writer and I know most of these tropes have already been written about but I started this when I finished vol 1 and needed to finish for myself. My writing is purely self indulgent so it’s a little bit of a self insert, i hope someone can enjoy it anyway. I’m gonna dip now :)

1978

You were young, keen and fresh out of nursing school when you received an offer from a job in a little town called Hawkins, Indiana. It was a good offer - too good to be true - with in house accommodation and the chance to aid young orphaned children. Or so you were told. You found it ironic how your big adventure and journey of self discovery led you to a small town instead of a big city. You weren’t any less excited about it however.

Arriving at the lab, you were taken aback. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it really wasn’t this. Everything was so sterile and closed off. Many floors were strictly off limits, every door beyond the reception desk needed an ID pass and you greatly struggled to picture how this was a place to help children.

You were on a 6 week work trial before you could move in to be the inhouse nurse. You were staying at the motel in Hawkins for the time being. The thought of moving into that building gave you chills at night but you were excited for these new experiences (and on your first night, very excited to meet the children), however something about that place felt off.

You were given a tour of the building on your first day, meeting the medical wing staff and Dr Brenner himself. He explained to you that this lab was not a usual institution for children or just any children for that matter. But special children, the most special he has ever seen for that matter. He went on to apologise for the trial period, they need to ensure you are in fact the kind of person they are looking for and that they can ensure your trust and confidentiality.

You asked when you’d get to meet the children and all you were given in response was “In due time.” From then on your tour continued, showing you the living quarters and work space you’d be granted access to as well your uniform of a white blouse, white pencil skirt and nurse’s cap - clean black heeled shoes were advised for appearances although not mandatory, however you learnt quickly with a guy like Dr Brenner, it was never wise to never go against his wishes.

It was the end of your first week when you finally met the orderly staff that supervise the children. They all held pleasantries very well and were lovely company. You were invited to join a few to the cafeteria for their lunch time break, to which you graciously accepted. Though they laughed at your jokes, you found many took themselves too seriously.

There was one however that piqued your curiosity. He did not speak to you that day, nor for any of the weeks during your trial period, but you saw him often. Like you were being shown a sign - he was always leaving the cafeteria when you were entering and passing you in the hallways in the mornings by your office door. He was tall, bright, blond and sympathetic looking. You wanted to hear his voice. You often wondered after seeing him if his voice was in fact as gentle and kind as he looked or boyish and playful or maybe even the complete opposite of how he looked: dark and cold.

It wasn’t until your final week during your trial did you meet one of the children. You were sitting in your little office bay as usual when you heard a knock on the door. Looking up, you saw the tall, blond boy dressed all in white walk in with a little girl holding his hand.

“Good morning Miss L/N. I understand you’re still on your trial period but thirteen here has hurt her hand and would like a bandage.” You nodded trying to conceal the fact that your thoughts were racing for the sake of professionalism. It was gentle and kind, his voice was gentle and kind.

Patting the bed next to you for the little child to sit, you retrieved the little stash of band aids from under your desk. Now ducking down to be eye level with the little girl whose legs dangled off the bed, you decided - as your actual first encounter with a child - you’d try your best to make her like you.

“I'm a nurse Y/N, what’s your name?” you said in a soft tone, perhaps coming off like you were talking to a baby.

“Thirteen.” She replied in a weak tone, to which you thought she was joking. After a silent moment of no follow up you turned to the orderly who stood next to the door, legs apart, arms behind his back and nodding at you with a smile. You hear him hiding a small chuckle and return your attention to the child in front of you trying to seem unfazed at the possibility that this child’s name is thirteen. Thirteen lifts her palm to show you a small cut.

“Oh dear, how did this happen?” You say softly, focusing more on gently applying the band aid to the little girl’s hand.

“Papa says I’m not allowed to say.” You looked at the child’s face again, clearly failing to hide how foreign this moment felt. ‘Papa?’ barely left your lips in a sigh before realising perhaps she meant Dr Brenner. Smiling again you set her free to go, to which she jumped off the bed and back to grab the boy’s hand. You completely forgot he was standing there but the intensity of his stare towards you accompanied by the smile on his face made your ears feel red hot.

“Thank you Nurse Y/N” the boy says, a smile growing wider than leading the child out of the room.

“Congratulations on passing your trial period Y/n. We’ve decided you are exactly the kind of person we are looking for and I’ll be sure to send someone to help you with your things, you need not worry.” Dr Brenner greeted you in the reception doors with these words as you entered with your things in multiple bags and cases, “It is time you finally meet the children.

He led you to ‘The Rainbow Room’ whoch you have heard of quite a bit but never got to see inside. When you entered, Dr Brenner called attention to all of the children and lined them up in front of you. The room was exactly like the rest of the building, sterile white tiles, fluorescent lights and no windows. It wasn’t exactly the place you’d want to let a child grow up in but the decorations and the toys scattered around made it a little more bearable and warm.

One by one Dr Brenner told you the numbers of each child, desperately trying to hide your astonishment at the fact all of the children were named after numbers. And there were so few children there too. It was then that Dr Brenner’s words of “not just any child” really started to sink in. What was so special about these children that they had to have their names taken away?

“Children, say hello to our new Nurse, Nurse Y/N.” Dr Brenner announces to the children.

“Hello Nurse Y/N.” The children responded in a collective bored and wavering tone. You examined the children from across the room, looking at their young eyes, some mischievous, some bright and others plain scary. You saw little thirteen that you treated yesterday, she smiled brightly while showing you the band aid still on her palm. You gave a small wave back. This adorable interaction completely making your day.

In the early weeks of moving in, you rarely interacted with people throughout the day. You found friends with some of the orderlies and reception staff however conversations with them are quick and only pleasant at best. Most days Dr Brenner would come by once to check on how you are fairing; once a week you may have someone actually come into the sick bay for treatment.

It was a Tuesday morning when you entered your office to find the tall, blond orderly sitting on the side of the bed, back slumped over and his head resting in his hands. He hadn’t heard you come in and for the brief moment when you caught him off guard, you noticed how intimidating his stare was. Usually when you saw him, he held the sweetest puppy dog eyes but this morning he looked troubled and almost angry.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You questioned quietly, not to startle him too much. You startled him very much which startled you and brought your hand to your chest trying to laugh it off.

“Good morning.” he gave you a sheepish little smile as an apology. You returned it with an understanding one. Getting your gear ready for the day around the desk, you started to question him.

“Is there anything I can help you with this morning, mr?”

“Ballard, Peter Ballard.” He replied in his boyish way.

“You’ve called me by my name for months now and I didn’t even know yours,” you joked before returning to the task at hand, “Now what seems to be the problem?”

You treated Peter of a suspicious burn on his wrist that morning, reinforcing the common phrase that circulates this building of ‘Papa says I’m not allowed to say.’ The word ‘papa’ coming from Peter’s lips however sounds more ironic and bitter than from the children. You were told not to question ‘Papa’.

That morning - though awkward - opened a gateway to a new friendship and perhaps even a little crush on your behalf. One of which you tried to tuck away as Dr Brenner would not be too pleased about workplace relationships. You learnt many things about the boy, his favourite things - colours, foods, hobbies, etc. You connected with him about certain things like the children and complained about Dr Brenner. He’d confide in you about how this building was starting to feel like a prison and you somehow managed to get Peter to tell you about his nightmares and help him understand those nights.

You’d often catch and talk to Peter at meal times or if he brings a child into or is just passing your office. He started to take the longer route to certain rooms just to stop by your office and ask if you needed anything which then turned into any free time he had being spent in your office if there were no other children or staff in there.

He sat on the bed in your office waiting for you to finish some paperwork before engaging in conversation. More often than not, he’d prefer to wait and work alongside you rather than awkwardly waiting in any other public space on this floor. His eyes wandering around the room, he spots the remnants of a web in the cover of the room, finally catching your attention when he ventures over to investigate.

“What’s wrong Peter?” You speak, looking up once you finish the sentence you were writing. He didn’t respond, walking further to the corner of the room. Naturally you got up to see what he was doing, this was odd behaviour for him and you weren’t sure if you should be concerned or flattered that he may just feel more comfortable with you to treat your office like a home.

“Look.” He says quietly, eyes intensely focused on his hand, reaching to the floor and rising back to his face. He shifts on his toes, crouched and raises his eyes to look at you with awe in his eyes. You yelped when you saw the black spider crawling on his hand - or at least you thought you yelped but no sound left your mouth, instead your hands came to cover your open mouth.

“It’s okay.” He says softly with a genuine smile, he looked so relaxed with the spider.

“Peter?! Why would you-?! Isn't it dangerous?!” You stuttered, Peter’s calmness being the only thing keeping you from freaking out. But it didn’t stop you from almost whisper-yelling at him as if raising your voice will make the spider angry.

“Only if provoked. Here,” He reached his hand out to you, moving slowly so as to not disturb the creature. You stood there like a deer in the headlights, so frightened by the ugly thing, you couldn’t seem to find the courage. You looked back to Peter, his eyes intense - almost cold - until he noticed your nervous gaze and he softened. Shaking his head with a soft smile at your cowardice, “It’s not going to hurt you, not while I’m here with you.”

You couldn’t believe you were reaching for the thing, but your hand met with Peter’s and the spider crawled onto your soft skin. You kept you other hand close to your chest, looking back up to Peter when you felt your nerves pick up. He was intensely staring at your hand, the spider so comfortable, crawling on your delicate smooth, skin.

“It’s beautiful.” Fell off his lips almost unintentionally, his chest rising and falling deeper and deeper. There was something that hit him so differently seeing this contrast of something regarded as so ill and dangerous melding like water with the most graceful and peaceful specimen he has ever seen. As every life he’s lived, he’d yet found something different to make it all feel worth it, until now. Until he found the anomaly of the human race that would be worth respecting, worth playing with, worth his time.

“I suppose so.” You respond - assuming he was talking about the spider - still not understanding the whole thrill of this. You grew lot more comfortable looking at the spider now. Even gently guiding it back to the shelf next to you to for it to waddle back to its web.

Once seeing the spider reached it’s web again, you looked back to Peter who was now only inches from you, leaning down to face you. Your breath hitched, you didn’t even see him step closer but you could now feel the heat from him and hear his breathing. It made your heart race. He reached to push some of your hair behind your ear, gently and slowly, as though you were the most precious item he’d ever seen. However halting mid movement once he saw your neck, his thumb gracing down to outline a small dull red scar. His fingers cold to the touch, sending shivers down your spine.

“When did you get this?” He said in a serious tone that caught you off guard, now moving to your side to further examine the scar.

“I’m the nurse here! You don’t have the worry about me.” You pulled away playfully however still very taken back by the sudden change in mood.

“Y/N,” His stare unfaltering, “I need to know. When did this happen.”

“I- I don’t remember,” you were suddenly nervous, like you were in trouble, “I- well- I know it appeared after I got here, I just don’t remember how I got it. It’s just a scar, I’m not dying.”

Peter’s face boiled in an emotion that you hadn’t seen from him before. Anger. With a hint of nothing else in his face but pure anger. ‘Brenner’ He breathed out and looked up to the security camera in the corner of the room - that to be honest, you forgot was there most of the time.

From that interaction, you were hyper aware of that scar on your neck - usually just trying to cover it with your hair if you didn’t have to put it up. As well you started to grow even more suspicious of Dr Brenner. You were already a little too curious of his treatment of the children for his liking but now you were more aware of his treatment of you and his staff. Peter felt almost proud of you when he saw you put your guard up around the man whether in the hallway, the rainbow room or cafeteria.

It was one afternoon, however, when one of the younger children came into your office with a bruised spine, burns across his scalp and a severe concussion that you were finally starting to lose your patience. You examined the child, tucked them into your sick bay bed with a support teddy (which was provided by you when you came to work here) and left for a moment to find Peter.

You were fuming though you tried to stay calm in the public eye - not that it made any difference, your stomps echoed through the tiled hallways. You made your way to the rainbow room, taking a deep breath before entering and scanning the room with your eyes for Peter. He was crouched next to the child guiding a marble with his eyes closed. The children watched you walk straight to him however pay you little mind. Peter however stood up immediately, noticing you were upset.

“Good evening Peter. I need your assistance if you have a moment to spare.” Keeping up appearances. It worked. He departed with the child and walked beside you out of the rainbow room. When you felt you were deep enough into the hallways, you stopped him and your fake persona melted in front of him.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?! WHAT IS HAPPENING TO THESE CHILDREN?! THIS ISN’T NORMAL! THIS IS LEGAL! PETER DID YOU KNOW?!” You were whisper yelling, aware that other people may hear you. You were panicking in front of him to the point he grabbed your upper arms to steady you and telling you to breathe. He took a deep breath himself.

“The truth is…” he contemplated for a moment whether to tell you, “Not everything here is what they seem.”

You looked at him absolutely dumbfounded as he told you of the children's special abilities and Dr Brenner’s plan to build weapons out of them. The sort of training these kids are put through and so on. You almost thought it was a joke, all of this going on under your nose, all of this that sounds completely impossible. He told you about the chip in your neck and explained that’s why he got so concerned when he first saw it.

“I have never lied to you before Y/N, especially not about the likelihood of this. I’ve tried to keep you in the dark for your own sake and protection because I fear what Dr Brenner may do if you knew the true nature of this project, what it may do to you if you knew the true nature of this project. But it seems not telling you has ended up worse and I apologise so deeply Y/N. It was never my intention to hurt y-”

“Peter, you have done nothing wrong. Thank you for always telling me the truth.” You stood in complete disbelief but you trusted Peter with your whole heart and in that moment you swore to help these children, but now you know really from what. You felt Peters hand on your shoulder taking you out of your thoughts. He guided you into his arms and you hugged him in the middle of the hallway.

“Peter, Y/N.” Dr Brenner’s voice revealed itself from behind Peter. You stole another moment in the privacy of Peter’s arms to build up the courage to face the doctor after what you just learnt.

“Good evening Dr Brenner.” You said with a smile, pretending to wipe a tear out of your eyes.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, brows furrowed in his usual calm, intimidating tone.

“Yes, yes,” You pretended to compose yourself, painting on a sheepish look. Also very aware of the child holding his hand beside him. “I’ve just been a little… well homesick is all. Peters just been a dear consolidating friend in reminding me of my family and friends here.”

Your nervousness was showing through your fiddling fingers, keeping your gaze on the child next to Brenner as you shared a gentle smile at the word ‘friends’. It was in this moment as well that Peter saw you pick his side and cover for him, he felt proud of himself that he could warn you of danger and that you actually listened. He felt proud of himself that he could suede the purest person he’d ever met to stick by his side.

Peter would think of that moment, at night, in bed alone most often. The way you lied for him, the way only he could make you steer away from your ‘righteous’ nature and lie for him. The way you listened to him and believed his every word. The way you sought him out first for help, for the truth and depended on him for comfort. The way you held him in your arms and rested your head on his chest. The way his arms wrapped around your smaller frame and could feel your back through your linen shirt. He was utterly enamoured by you.

Over the course of the year, he slowly slowly started to open up to you and he knew you were just as enamoured by him as he was of you. He protected you in this building, telling you every secret he knew, who of the orderlies and staff he thought you should stay clear of and bringing you things you needed throughout the day like an assistant. On some days even, Peter became the only person you would see for the entire day. His puppy dog eyes and sweet smile was enough to keep you going in his building. Most nights the thought of his touch was all you needed.

It was only recently that Peter started talking more and more about little number 11. He held a real fondness of her, often telling you she was the strongest of all the children. The first time you heard this, it took you greatly by surprise as she was a sweet girl but incredibly fragile from the times you’ve treated her. He looked at you with the intense stare you rarely saw - the stare that raises your heartbeat and frightens you, needing to remind yourself that it’s only Peter and there was no need to be intimidated - when telling you not to pity that girl.

It was because of Peter that yourself and 11 became closer friends. Often you’d try to learn more about the girl when she came into your office and you always greeted her, especially when you entered the rainbow room to call on a child for a check up. Peter thought it very sweet however the other children started to notice as well.

A lot of the older children became more hostile to 11 as a result of getting more attention but became hostile to you as well. 11 begun spend more and more afternoons in your office after being picked on by those kids and you welcomed her every time. She’ll tell you in very limited words that the children would tell her 'you have to be put in your place’ or that ‘they do it for her own good.’ and that she just wanted to be their friend.

You told her often “Friends don’t lie.” You tried your best to make it crystal clear that they were only bullies and that she was worth so much more than to be tossed around like that. You’d remind her how powerful she was to be here. As well that she had a brave and strong heart and you really admire that about her.

One afternoon you hadn’t seen Peter all day and you were getting very distressed and restless. He wasn’t at the dinner meal time either which only made you feel worse, cleaning your office to distract yourself all night. By 7 o’clock there was a knock on your door which you ran too thinking it was Peter however instead you found little 11 standing there alone.

You welcomed her in of course and she tried to explain to you what she saw today. Of Peter being punished for helping her. You thanked her so deeply for telling you to which she replied with “Friends don’t lie.” You gave her a hug as tears started to spill unwillingly out of your eyes from worry and sent her off to her room for the night.

So that night when you were packing up your office, you hid a few supplies and ointments in your undergarments and tried your best to sneak to his room without being spotted. You weren’t sure if he didn’t come see you for treatment because he didn’t want you to see him that way or because Dr Brenner prohibited him but neither was going to stop you for helping him.

You knock on his door and he opens the door harshly thinking you were someone else. However his eyes softened immediately upon seeing you and he drags you in to close the door. He lets you fawn over him, scolding him for not seeing you and what not when all he did was groan in pain as he tried to sit on the edge of his bed.

He followed your orders in taking off his shirt so you could see his wounds, pulling out the supplies you brought. Now sitting shirtless with his arms out, he watched you expectedly as you were too focused on examining him to notice the elephant in the room. He enjoyed seeing your flustered look when seeing him shirtless and your pure worry while treating him.

“11 and I are more alike than you think.” He states out of the blue, breaking your focus. That's when you finally noticed the number. 001. He watches your face turn from concern to utter despair.

“No” you look up at him, slowly your hands rise to his head. You softly grab his hair and bring him to your chest. Pure love and sorrow in your embrace that he melts into you.

”Not you, not them.” You whimpered into his hair. Your heart broke at the thought of him going through what you’ve seen these children go through and now more.

You almost healed his inner child in that moment alone. He feels a tear drop on his hair and pulls back to look at you, his hand resting on your waist. Bringing a thumb to your cheek to wipe away your tears. In the complete silence of the little tiled room, you broke loose.

“I’m so scared.” You whimpered, tears slowly continuing to build in your eyes. He quickly retorted with his thumb now grazing over your lips, his gentle eyes comforting you, “You never have to be afraid again. Not with me.”

He pulled you to him, lips resting against his for a moment. You closed your eyes until both of you pulled back. Opening your eyes, you see him watching your lips while licking his own. Your heart was beating so fast.

“Again” he says in a daze. He’d never kissed anyone before but to share this moment with you was almost too much for him. You did as he said and kissed him again. Your lips took over and moved against each other on their own. His grip tighten and you pulled away, a small moanish sigh left your lips from the feeling. You take charge, connecting your lips to his again, tongue to tongue and he’s taken off guard. But he’s a quick learner.

With a gruff grunt, he yanks you onto his lap, your hands resting on his chest. His hand holding your jaw to him and the other pulling up your skirt. This was too good a feeling to be real, this was a feeling he could get used to for sure. A feeling of pure pleasure and love, he wants to hold you and protect you from this hell hole.

“I fear he already knows” You whisper against his lips. You didn’t dare speak the doctor’s name in a moment like this.

“I’m afraid so,” He mumbled back against your lips, “But if he lays a hand on you, I’ll be the end of everything he knows.”

You pulled back, taking out the pins in your hair and letting it fall onto your shoulders. His eyes watching your movements so intensely, his thigh bouncing from a feeling he couldn’t identify, nervousness or excitement maybe.

Your hands held his shoulders to keep you stable on his lap. You looked down to his chest, your mannerisms turning sheepish and he could tell there was something you needed to ask him. He moved a piece of hair out of your face and behind your ear, and following that motion your head turned to him and locked eyes.

“Will you have me?” He was confused by your question. You straightened yourself on his lap, gaining the courage to continue, “I don’t know what will happen beyond this point, tomorrow. I don’t know if I can even help these kids if I tried. But I know I’m here with you right now and that might be all I get.”

His eyes grew wide and clouded full of love. He was starting to realise what you were referring to.

“I don’t want to regret anything, I don’t want to miss you. I need you.” You continued. He was so mesmerised by you that he brought you in for another kiss, rough and heavy, he wanted to express how he felt about you and this - in his inexperience - was the best way he knew how to.

He watched you lick your lips and lean back in his lap - supporting you with a grip on your hips. He watched your nimble little hands work on the button at your collar, letting it fall open. Then the next button and the next until he stopped you. Holding your delicate hands in his like fine china and bringing them to his lips for a gentle kiss. He guides your hands back to his shoulders and works on the rest of your buttons for you one by one.

Reaching the belt of your skirt, he yanks your tucked in shirt out rougher than intended and you let out a little giggle to which he matches your smile, a genuine, warm smile. All your buttons were undone and you guide his hands into your unbuttoned shirt, leaving his hands on his chest, letting your shirt slip off your shoulders.

With his hands awkwardly placed over your underwear where you placed them, he watched your chest rise and fall, up and down with every deep breath under his warm hands. Your nervous look turned to one of slight smugness, mostly adoration. You reached your arms behind your back to unclasp your bra and with that it fell to the ground. He looked so unsure where to place his hands.

You lifted his chin to look you in the eye and with a gently loving smile, you gave him a nod. With that he cupped your breast and explored the feeling. He observed the way you reacted to his movements, when your breath hitched or fastened. Hitting the jackpot when his thumb met your nipple, like a research project.

He was rubbing circles with his thumb, relishing the sight of you watching his hands as he worked. Your head almost subconsciously following the movement, as you’re lips were parted and almost drooling. He’s never had this effect on anyone before but you didn’t tell him to stop. He never knew his limits, but the effect he had was intoxicating for him in a way he didn’t know was possible.

“Aah!” His fingers were rough and dry. He looked at you jerking back his hands immediately, unsure if he did something wrong to hurt you. You still had this blissed out look on your face as you looked at him but you licked your lips. Slowly, to draw his attention and your eyes flicked down. He gave you a knowing look once it clicked what you wanted.

He gave you a devilish smile before connecting his lips to your nipple. You gripped his hair and let out a gasp, his lips moving as they did on your lips and soon remembered to let his tongue join the ensemble. His eyes continued to watch the look on your face when he got the chance. Every time you made a noise, it only egged him on more. Soon he was onto the other nipple and your fingers were busy twisting and pulling his hair.

He committed every little movement and noise you made to memory and was absolutely addicted. He couldn’t seem to stop, he couldn’t seem to pull himself off you when you were making noises like that. You were pulling his hair and making noises straight out of a porno. Only finally giving you a break when he pulled off you, leaning back to get a look at you all dishevelled. You were falling forward in his lap, already tired, chest completely red and sore, rising rapidly as you tried to catch your breath.

“Peter” you let out a moanish-sigh and his head fell back at the sound. He let out groans in pain, you weren’t sure whether the source was from the burns or his tight white pants. Once you regain your composure, you let your hand slide along the inside of his left thigh in front of you. He returned his look to you, somehow more dishevelled than you were and you’ve barely touched him.

“Please.” he said, almost submissively and your hand fell over where he needed you most. You were only palming him gently through his white chinos but truly it was enough for him to snap. His head had fallen back entirely, hands off your waist and leaning on the bed behind him to keep him steady and upright.

His neck was on full display to you and taking the opportunity, you manoeuvred your way to lean your knees against the bed and rest your chest against his with your hand still between your bodies. Lips connecting to his neck and feeling the vibrations of every noise he made. You kissed around his neck, trying not to leave marks that might be spotted until you reached the chip behind his ear.

“I hate him.” You muttered against his skin absentmindedly, catching his attention and bringing him out of the moment. He pulled you up in front of him pulling down your skirt, slipping off your shoes and groaning once more as you stood in front of him in nothing but your panties.

“Sit.” he orders, you do as he says. With a grunt he stands in front of you like you did him moments before. He desperately fiddled with his belt, his hands were shaking but he was too focused on taking off his trousers to notice. Once finally free he lets out a sigh of relief as the cold air hits his skin.

“Peter.” you did it again and it drove him crazy, the sight of you sitting there almost naked staring at his dick was an effect he didn’t know he could have on a person.

“Lay down Peter, please.” you almost begged.

He laid down beside you and you straddled him, pulling off your panties one leg after the other. He watched you as your cold fingers traced down his torso then gently grazed over his cock. He completely stopped breathing but couldn’t look away.

He was in so much pain, desperate for release but he didn’t want this moment to end. Everything you did made it worse but he couldn’t bring himself to quicken the pace. You were dripping down your thigh, he watched you scrape some of your wetness off your thigh and drag it down his shaft. You wrapped your hand around him, thumb rubbing at the slit spreading the pre-cum it let out, him letting out a groan from deep in his chest along with it

“Are you ready Peter?” You said weakly, mostly the nerves were finally showing through. Positioning yourself above him with his eyes intensely trained on the sight.

“Now.”

You rode him. Slowly at first. He’d never felt this kind of pleasure before and he certainly wasn’t going to interfere with what you were doing. The room was silent beside the echoing noises of the friction of your skin, the repetitive squelching from inside you, every hum that you made involuntarily at every little movement. Everything added up into pure over stimulation on his senses. He could hear his own noises, groans and hums and moans and sighs echo back at him and he almost gave you submission. His hands rested on your hips as you rolled back and forth on him, yours hands resting on his shoulders for stability and moaning in his ear.

You grabbed his hand off your hips and guided him to your clit, helping him move in the way you like and once he got the hang of it, your body completely fell over onto him. He saw you break down in front of his eyes at this simple movement and something within him snapped in a need for dominance.

His grip on your hip tightens, bruises forming as he begins thrusting up into you. You’re yelping almost in pain but that only pushes him longer as he shows no signs of slowing down. He flips you over, delicately placing you below him, it was the only moment for you to breathe before he continued.

He begins to pound into you again, thumb still working on your clit. You’re gripping his hair and the nape of his neck for dear life as you're on the verge of screaming and crying from love and fear and pain and he’s got his arm out beside you, steadying himself, chin resting on your collarbone as he watches you scream and squirm. The sudden change in his demeanour and the pace and everything is sending you so overboard that you’re orgasming before you can even put a coherent thought together. It was only Peter.

“Pete-aA, a- AH - AgaIN PETER.”

At the point you begin to calm down only slightly, he started rutting into you with a grunt with every thrust. “You’re free now. With me you’re free Y/N. You won’t leave me, you won’t ever leave me. Y/n hmm Y/n” and it continued like that with each thrust. He’d grunt and call out for you and grunt and call out for you. Relishing the feeling of your squirming and jerking your hips, like you were a bunny he was setting free from it’s misery. He had to have you.

For a while you were way past your orgasm but he was still rutting into you. So strained you could feel the veins on his neck and see the veins on his forehead pop out. You’d scream for him and only him, not any jerk, not Brenner. You’d scream his name, and feel for him. You were gasping for air, nails frantically scratching at his back, hair, shoulders, arms, anywhere you could grip.

With what little might you could muster, you lifted your head to look at him, face red and completely tear stained, mascara pooling under your eyes. “I am free, with you Peter! You set me free!” you cried, out of breath and completely dick crazed. He was a goner. Completely inside of you he stayed and rutted as he released. Your name falling off his lips, only yours.

He fell onto you, releasing all the tension in his muscle as he gently held you. You laid there under him gasping for air and grabbing his hair and shoulder.

He looked at you with complete awe and amazement, that was the best he’d ever felt, the most free he’s ever felt yet the most powerful he’d ever felt. He loved you, he would kill for you, but watching you stay there under him, crying and screaming and taking it because you loved him. It was a love he’s never felt before. He did nothing but stare at you and breathe as he thought and you stared at him back, in love.

Something in him clicked like it sometimes did, his eyes reverted back to their Peter puppy dog eyes, he chucked and giggled and sighed resting his head next to yours in a playful ‘wow’ sort of fashion. You only giggled in return and held him closer. He jolted up on his elbow to look at you, jump scaring you in the moment and looked at him expectedly.

“Stay with me, just tonight y/n.” Your eyes lit up as he did to match until the hope drained out of you.

“You know I can’t Peter.” You looked into his eyes, deep into his wide black hole of eyes, there was a void space in his eyes that drew you into a trance. He knew how to use this power on you.

“Like you said, we don’t know what's going to happen tomorrow but you have me now.” He could see he was persuading you easily. You bit your lip and let out a loud breath when lying back down in his arms. He grabbed your chin, roughly, pulling you to look at him.

“You’ll be with me forever, you’ll never have to feel fear again with me, especially not from the likes of those men out there.” With that the two of you spent the night, you in his arms, him in your arms. He could feel your heart racing and the fear behind it as tomorrow morning came closer and closer. You both knew tomorrow was going to be a living hell and you weren’t sure if you were ready for it but you had no regret being with Peter.

Neither of you slept properly, the night was full of deep late night conversations, giggles, you spoke of your families, he told you of his childhood and wanted to take you again when instead of rejecting him, you embraced him and were interested in the stuff he likes to talk about, spiders, power, dominance. It was the longest and shortest night of his life and he didn’t even leave the bed once.

He mentioned his plan to free 11. You saw it as a mission to heal his inner child and thought him incredibly selfless to sacrifice himself for the sweetest little girl you’d ever met. Of course you’d offer to help, you’d do anything for Peter and if he was going to sacrifice himself, you’d have nothing else left to live for either.

You told Peter to give her your ID card, so he can meet her in the basement and in the early morning, he took you again because he couldn’t keep his hands off you and how pure of a soul you were.

“You are everything good in this world, I will protect you.” He’d repeat all night.

Now the next morning, you watched Peter prepares himself for the day then walk you to your room, trying his best to avoid cameras and keep you out of sight. And thus the most dreaded day of your life begins.

It was cold, the only warmth you felt was the redness of your cheeks and ears when you thought back to last night. Your morning went as usual except the way Peter looked at you when passing in the hall was different and made you wet in your pants.

Dr Brenner visited your medical office, notifying you that you and the other nurse will be needed in the lab room in an hour as the children are playing another game. You tried to play off your complete nervousness - of just being in the same room as him as if he already knew what happened last night - by giving a kind and understanding smile you usually try to wear. He leaves with no inhibitions but you just know deep down, he knows.

You do as you're told. In the next hour, walk to the lab room he called you too and watch the children leave. You enter to find 2 on the ground, a collar around his neck you’d seen before leaving burns on the children. Terror is evident in your eyes and Peter can see that from where he stands in the corner of the room. You walk in, trying to stay calm, everyone is watching you and the other nurse that came with you to escort the child.

Dr Brenner welcomes you and thanks you for coming on time. He takes the collar off 2 and steps aside for you to help up to your office.

“Of course. It’s only our job to help these children sir.” you gave a reassuring smile. Usually Brenner liked to hear these sort of things from his staff but today he stops you, telling the other nurse to take the child and leave you. Confused, you look to Peter, he looked seemingly more concerned than confused.

“Y/N stay with us.” Brenner says calmly. You spin to face him and his orderlies. Your heart is racing and your breathing so heavy that you could hear your heart beat in your ears. Dr Brenner motions for you to stand where you found 2.

Not daring to go against his orders, you walked to the spot in front of the Doctor. Peter was starting to catch on to what was about to happen and he was getting angry, visibly angry. His anger only made you more nervous. The other orderlies even started to look nervous and confused. Dr Brenner touches your arm and you tense up completely.

“Please, Y/N there’s no need to get nervous now.” He walks behind you, hand on your waist, collar in his hand, “No, you haven’t done anything wrong to be this nervous, have you?”

He never once falters from his scolding fatherly tone, no matter how ridiculous the situation. You’re shaking and whimpering and trembling under his touch. Peter observes the complete weakness in you, not the way you were with him. His fist was clenched, he was going to snap. He cleared his throat, trying to diffuse this situation but it only made it worse. Dr Brenner’s eyes snap to the boy, so do yours. Your eyes pleading for help and Dr Brenner notices.

“I’m afraid my suspicions were correct.” He scoffs under his breath and starts putting the collar on you.

“You say you do this for the children, correct? You want to help my children?” He says, walking back in front of you now that the collar was around your neck. You were shaking so violently that you could barely stand, tears were falling from your eyes wildly without any prior permission. Brenner looked to the man on his side, instantly getting the cue and walking over to hold Peter back. And as though in slow motion, he reached for the dial in his hand and turned it on.

Before you could properly comprehend what was happening and that you were in pain, you found yourself on the floor.

“I didn’t want to have to do this Y/n but it’s necessary to remind you of the rules and that of basic respect and manners. This is no place for a whore.”

You were on the floor screaming in pain. Peter was screaming at Brenner from where he was being held back to watch.

After a couple long minutes, a few of which you’d blacked out through, Brenner finally turned the collar off. He crouched in front of you, lifting your chin to look at him, gazing directly into your eyes as he said, “It’s only for your own good, I don’t want to have to let go of you because of this little incident.”

It was about noon now, after you were left to hobble back to your room alone, that Peter finally visited you. Bringing you food and water. He sat with you in your bed, holding you and apologising for not being able to protect you and saying he will get revenge for you. You went all too sure what he was saying but you were just happy to have him by your side for a little bit.

You gave him your ID card and told him to give it to her, and get her out today. It was time, today was the day. He took it and listened to you. You had to assure him many times that you’d be okay if he left you here before he actually got up to leave. And after a kiss he went to start the plan as you fell asleep.

You woke up to someone entering your room, you could sense it had only been a few hours later but Peter was already back in your room. He ran straight to you, yanking you to his chest before you were fully awake to comprehend what was going on.

“Ow” you let out and he apologised vowing to be gentler next time, “Peter? What's going on? Did you give her the ID? What's go- Peter you’re bleeding!”

You sat up now, completely sobered and concerned. You observed his neck where the chip used to be now dripping with blood. He looked at you with determined eyes, the intense stare that used to scare you.

“I’m free now Y/N. I can protect you now. I love you Y/N.” he took a rough, hard kiss from you once again and laid you back down, “I can protect you now.”

“No Peter! Wait, what’s going on?!” You were getting up to stop him leaving without telling you but he just pulled you to his chest and kissed your hair.

“You have to stay here, I’m going to protect you. You trust me.” He repeated once more before picking you up and putting you back into your bed. You watched him leave bewildered and the door shut behind him. You didn’t have your ID card or a key of any kind and now Peter’s left you confused and worried he was hurt.

You ran to the door after him, trying desperately to find a way to get it open to no avail. In despair, you slid to the floor, sitting with your back to the door and waited. The only thing you could do.

There was a scream.

And another.

The alarm started going off.

You tried once again at the door but it wouldn’t open, you were getting frantic again. You started to hit the door but no one was left around to hear.

“PETER!” You were screaming, banging at the door with your fist, desperate for someone, anyone to hear you.

#stranger things #peter ballard #peter ballard x reader #henry creel #henry creel x reader #001 #001 x reader #vecna #stranger things fic

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destinysbounty · 1 year

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I was gonna put this headcanon in a fic but i probably will never write it so instead im gonna share with all of you. Do with this idea as you wish

The fact that Pixal just up and built herself a new body in season 7 suggests she could have done it at any time, but chose not to. And i refuse to believe Zane and Borg didnt at least offer to give her a body - Zane admitted he preferred having her physical, im sure he at least suggested rebuilding her at one point. As he said in season 8, "The choice has always been yours, Pixal." Which leads me to believe she was the determining factor in her own reconstruction. She chose to stay in Zane's head, and Id like to think her reasons for doing so are similar to her reasons for hiding her identity as Samurai X: self-imposed guilt.

Let me explain.

Think of it like this. Pixal was built to assist, right? Even from the beginning of their relationship, she has been put in several positions of saving, protecting, and looking after Zane. Their first bonding moments involved her repairing him and later rescuing him from a junkyard metal shredder. Just as Zane has an integral need to protect built into the core of his existence, so too does Pixal have an integral need to assist.

When Zane gave her half his heart, he seriously disadvantaged himself in combat. Not only that, but it was his heart being unable to withstand the Golden Power that killed him in the end. Im sure there was at least some small part of Pixal that blamed herself for this. Not just because she might see this as a failure to uphold her reason for existence (helping people) - but also bc maybe if he'd had his whole heart during that fight, maybe if she'd just given it back to him, he might have had a fighting chance. It would have only marginally improved his chances of survival, but that small .003% probability increase is enough to make her blame herself. A probability that small is statistically irrelevant, but she cant help using it as an excuse to blame herself - or perhaps, to give her a rationalization for her survivor's guilt. Because the heart inside her, powering her, is the same heart Zane could have used to defend himself against the Golden Power, and the feeling of it inside her is unbearable.

Then Zane comes back, and she gets scrapped. And Zane forgets everything, and his mind is in shambles, and she has to help him piece himself back together again.

She blames herself for this, blames herself for his death and for the scrambled state of his memories that came as a consequence. So she figures, she caused this, so its her responsibility to help him fix his broken mind. Its her responsibility to assist.

So she stays in his head, where she can hold his memories together and keep his mind from falling apart. She insists she prefers it this way, likes being close to him, but deep down she longs for her physical freedom and hates herself for wanting more than she deserves.

Then Borg is kidnapped. And Zane is nonresponsive. And she has a choice. So she chooses to rebuild herself and leave Zane behind.

And...she feels good. Free. She's...happy about it.

But shes also deeply ashamed. Thinks she doesnt deserve to enjoy the experience of leaving Zane's head. He needs her, she's less useful to him outside his headset...and yet here she is, being Samurai X, having the absolute time of her life. She loves it, and she hates herself for loving it so much.

So out of shame, she tells no one. Shes worried theyll be just as disappointed in her as she is in herself.

And Zane...well, maybe theres a reason the Ninjigma didnt become a problem until after Pixal left his headset. Maybe she was the only thing holding him together, and the moment she left, all his memories started spiraling out of control. Maybe the events of Decoded turned out to be for the best, and allowed Zane to sort through and finish repairing his memories on his own, without relying on Pixal for help.

When Pixal reunites with Zane, shes worried he'll be upset. "Was i more...useful...inside the computer?" But to her surprise and delight, he prefers her in whatever form makes her happiest, not whatever form makes her most useful.

And Pixal, backed by the support of Zane and their friends, flourishes in her new role as Samurai X - not just in an assistive capacity, but exploring and embracing her interests in engineering and tinkering. Things are good, for a while.

But then Zane ends up in the Never Realm. And he comes home, and she learns what happened. She hears what Vex did, how she sabotaged his memories and twisted his own sense of self against him.

Once more, she blames herself. Begins to believe that maybe if she had still been in his headset, she could have prevented all that suffering.

Anyway, Pixal with survivors guilt and a raging hero complex my BELOVED

#a lot of fics place the blame on zane for never bothering to build her a body #but! let! pixal! have! agency! over! her! own! existence!#i think pixal deserves some agency over her life. as a treat #ninjago #pixal borg #pixal ninjago #pixane #ninjago decoded #ns3 #ns8 #ns11 #destiny post

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hanasnx · 1 year

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heyyy do you have any advice on how to write smut cause its sooo difficult for me *cries in virgin*

ur like one of my fav smutty writers and idk if you have any tips 😭

first off thank u very much i appreciate that :)

this isnt the first time ive been asked for writing tips so im gonna give a lot of info. youre bound to find something useful in this mess

im so sorry but one of my solutions to giving myself confidence in smut-writing was to literally fuck and fuck a lot

after losing my virginity it still wasnt enough experience tbh. so i gave myself room to explore my sexuality and was privileged enough to do it with a partner that encouraged that growth. that experience of fucking sure didnt hinder my smut-writing ability if you know what i mean ;0 but everything else about writing i learned from years of practice. ive been writing since i was in elementary school like id come home from fourth grade and read and write on quotev klsdjfsfj smut writing skills came later post puberty

when i tried writing smut as a virgin i genuinely couldn’t get past the build up. i was fantastic at writing the build up, it was the actual sex part that was hard bcos even tho i had done enough research (i read a lot of porn) it didn’t instill me with enough confidence that i could write it correctly, and so i never did. however! i sure wish i’d committed to it more, so let me see if i can write out some tips that would’ve helped me in the past

(this is just how i write smut, im by no means an expert)

my timeline

the way i write smut is pretty formulaic so i’ll break it down:

hook line ⟹ settings ⟹ build-up ⟹ foreplay ⟹ sex ⟹ ending

☥ hook line. maybe: a dialogue piece to kickstart; an ambiguous line that reels you in; an exciting action. i dont like starting my story with the name/pronouns of a character doing something boring. i.e. “you were getting ready for the day…” idk it’s not the worst thing in the world and we've all done it but just writing out what i try to avoid.

☥ build up is key to me. i have such a hard time reading and writing porn with no plot. i’ll do it sometimes if i like the writer enough, but i rarely write smut without the build up bcos i feel like that’s where the juice is. its whats fun and what you get to play around with bcos the actual sex part of the fic is pretty predictable.

focus on what’s said and unsaid in dialogue between characters. focus on the emotion each of them are feeling and how that emotion manifests into body language.

⟹ dirty talk is not for everyone, but god i love it. literally get nasty with it, this is your writing and we’re all just readin it. build anticipation using dirty talk, make filthy promises, make threats. make your characters talk about the nasty shit they wanna do to each other.

imagine someone you really wanna fuck, imagine the things youd do to them if you had the chance,,, write it into your characters.

☥ foreplay. goes hand in hand with dirty talk, its where the touching starts. decide how you want to play it. who gets oral, who gets fingered. both? one of them? neither and they just go straight to fucking?? i like foreplay, but if youre writing a “quickie” scenario then it may not be in the cards.

lets say it is in the cards tho. so some things to remember:

⟹ foreplay gets the dicks hard. when dicks get hard they leak pre-cum. balls have like no cushion and theyre soft and have little sacks in em that move around. the skin of this genital is often described as velvety bcos its soft. ive honestly never had sex with an uncircumcised penis so i have no idea if there’s a difference between how they feel.

foreplay makes the pussies loose and wet. the inside can be lumpy. it can be ridged or smooth. it can be all kinds of flesh colors like brown and pink.

without the foreplay (which can be verbal communication, or touching of the body or genitals) its a little painful for afabs bcos theyre too tight or too dry. and a flaccid dick is a little unpredictable to try to fit in.

⟹ afabs can have multiple orgasms, amabs are less lucky. afabs can cum and squirt multiple times, amabs can cum multiple times.

⟹ genitals get really sensitive after cumming though. so if you write someone finishing, write out how they might need some time before they finish again or start fucking, or that they get overstimulated getting touched still after they came and that sensitivity is a little uncomfortable.

⟹ the head of the penis is the most sensitive and that’s what makes it cum/orgasm. clits on pussies are the most sensitive and its what makes cum/orgasms happen. its very difficult if not impossible to achieve orgasm (if youve got a pussy) through penetration alone without clit stimulation

⟹ you can cum/squirt and not have an orgasm

☥ sex

⟹ changing positions can change angles and hit new pleasurable spots inside pussies.

⟹ probably write a couple different positions during the sex part, just to keep things fresh.

⟹ sprinkle in dirty talk to prolong the sex scene and to avoid sounding repetitive because if youre writing p in v it’s pretty standard to thrust over and over again until youre done. its a lot less glamorous when you spell it out like that, so you gotta add shit to make the sex scene more enjoyable to the reader whos not actively experience the sex.

☥ ending. i usually end the one shot after the fucking is done.

the smut tips

☥ think back to a time you were really turned on. from a show, from a book, something someone said to you, your own sex life, porn you really liked,,, take inspiration from it. use it and channel that own arousal within you.

if youve got a dirty fantasy and it gets you so hot and bothered thinking about it, write that.

if youve got a partner that fucks you crazy good and supplies you with inspo for dialogue or for settings or for scenarios, write that too. theres been a whole bunch on my blog that was inspired by my boyfriend. not everything, but enough to mention it.

also! another thing that people underestimate is the inspiration you take from other blogs. like mine for example, if you like my stuff take inspo from it. study my writing style and you’ll see all kinds of little tips in subtext id never be able to list for you. i do that with other blogs, i dont copy them but i definitely learn little things i like from them and incorporate it into my writing for a more cohesive story. if i take an idea though i ask for their permission & credit them.

☥ the most important tip i can give you is be as self indulgent as possible. youre wasting time worrying about other people. “will they like this? will people think im weird? what if they think im weird for writing this?” fuck that noise. warn accordingly, and go ham. your self indulgence is your best friend. it’ll guide you through all those dirty things you want to say or do to someone, let it take root and write what excites you. chances are you will find your people, and your fic will be set apart bcos it’s so specific to you that people will be drawn to that. and if theyre not? it ends up not being popular? it doesnt matter! because you had fun writing it right? fuck yea u did

☥ the types of words you use are so important. words that invoke a certain emotion or sexy feeling. its difficult to explain but i try my hardest to use “beautiful language” paired with dirty, disgusting, cacophonous language. marry them together so you can convey whether youre “love-making” or “fucking”. i dont like words that dont look or sound good in my head. like when you paint, you probably use colors you like looking at to create the entire picture on the canvas that’s beautiful. so pick out paints that are pleasing to the eyes. the bold ones and the soft ones.

examples of words i dont use cos i hate the way they sound and the way they look: “vagina” and “penis” LMAO

even “butt” isnt a word i like to use. i’ll almost always use “ass” or “backside”

⟹ the smut writer’s dictionary

☥ i keep comedy out of it for the most part, ive never really seem humor added positively into a smut that added to the experience. its usually physical humor stuff like the characters bumping heads or stubbing their toe or something its just cringy to me idk. if i add comedy (i am not good at writing comedy)i put it before the smut. and if you must have some sort of lightheartedness id keep it casual, light, and personal. like an inside joke or something tongue in cheek. you dont have to hide your deepest desires behind humor , you can be serious

☥ your pain tolerance is heightened so run with that. get spanked its fun

more important tips i love and stand by:

☥ call backs are important to me. it’s like if you have something in the future of your fic to be used, try to incorporate it in some small way in your establishing settings or build up. but it’s not as important to others as it is to me. an example would be in my one shot “talk huttese to me”, at the end anakin fucks reader on the tool table. at the very beginning of the fic, when i had reader taking in the surroundings of the “garage bay”, she scanned the drawer stack where she set his broth she brought him, and the tool table he’d later fuck her on. its kinda like,,, foreshadowing (i think?). you’re setting up your reader to be like “?? i wonder why the author thought it would be important to mention the tool table.. wonder if anakin fucks her on it later.” but even if your readers dont react that way, i still think it ties things together nicely

☥ try to write 15-20 mins uninterrupted. create a ritual. i use the bathroom, refill my water, grab a fun drink like sweet tea, put on a silent youtube video (like my ahsoka star wars lofi live i love so much), listen to a playlist of music (preferably music you havent heard before so it can fade into the background. maybe even cultivate a playlist for the vibe youre going for in your story, aids greatly in creating an atmosphere in your writing if youre translating the music in your ears), and turn your phones notifications off (ofc i leave on notifs for calls in case of emergencies, but i can answer my friends’ texts after my writing session). set a timer so you dont have to keep checking the time.

☥ don’t stop in the middle of your storytelling to check the thesaurus or dictionary. write out whatever word/phrase first came to mind and highlight it to come back to later to alter or replace it completely. you’re interrupted your creative flow and its difficult to come back to it when youre checking the thesaurus every five seconds. this hack was crucial to my ability to stay on task i promise you

☥ avoid sounding repetitive by using the same words close together. you’ll create a fuller story by adding to your vocabulary using the thesaurus.

☥ avoid listing actions, break them up with adverbs at the start of your sentences if you must, or description of things or the place your character is in, or explain the emotion your character is feeling or what that emotion is causing within your character. starting sentences over and over again with the character’s name or pronoun breaks up the flow for the reader.

☥ really try to finish your works in progress even if you think its bad, the challenge of it will help you practice and learn to overcome your own mind trying to hold you back

☥ if you dont like the direction your fic is going,,, and youre experiencing writer’s block:: cross out the most recent bit and take it in a new direction. “oh but indy!! i really have a certain goal in mind!!” great, find another way to get to it because youre blocking yourself from finishing this forcing yourself into a non entertaining corner. switch it up! challenge yourself. “but indy!! i really liked what i had for this scene!!” yea but youre blocked right? youre not writing anything else for this scene and you cant, right? if you like what you have for this scene (an action, a dialogue piece youre proud of, a plot twist) save it! use it for a different piece !

hope this helps you and others!

#indy shoots the shit #anon #indy overshares #thanks for the msg!!#writing tips #smut writing tips

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v3nusxsky · 1 year

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Subconscious| hurt and comfort

——————————————————————————

*Authors note~ Reader is a teacher of age to be in a relationship with Larissa. Her ability is to pass emotions through bonds. I was listening to dynasty by MIIA when writing this so maybe check it out *

Trigger warning~ language?

Prompt~ Reader experiences dreams vividly and shared the emotions it made her feel accidentally to her wife who was working next door. Comfort ensured.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft yellow hue smothered the room in a soothing glow. The only source being the lamp sat on your bedside table. Providing just enough light that you could sit in bed and grade your students work. It was rather early to retire for the night, you knew that but the throbbing pain in your head that you were currently experiencing made you not care. Back resting against the headboard, red pen in hand as your eyes swam through the words on the page. Now you knew if your wife wasn't so busy in her own workload she would be encouraging you to stop and give your body the rest it so truly needed. But that wasn't the case. Which is why you were now stubbornly sat in bed determined to finish the stack of papers, hunched over as your headache worsened with every paper.

With a slight sigh you finished your pile of papers, moving them onto the bedside table you capping your pen and resting it on top. That would be a future you problem to deal with. Your vision starting to blur you quickly went through your routine as usual, just with the absence of your wife. You quickly glanced at the clock on your wife's bedside table. The numbers seemingly haunting you. It was much too early to expect your workaholic wife to retire for the night. But your body was slowly giving up. Ready to succumb to the exhaustion that your day had brought on.

Deciding a nap wouldn't hurt, you settled yourself in your shared bed. After all your wife would wake you when she joined you hours later in your bed. You lay there clutching onto Larissa's pillow nuzzling into it. Her scent was always the most calming thing for you. Her perfume mixed with her floral scent practically engulfed all your senses. It wasn't long before you succumbed to your exhaustion that was so desperately trying to take over, comforted by the smell of your lover.

Larissa POV

Soft crackles of the fire, clicking of my keypad and the sounds of nature outside was all that could be heard. Y/n had opted to work in the bedroom instead of together like normal which was most certainly a bit odd however, due to the exhausting day I knew she had, it didn't concern me too much. Y/n sometimes needed alone time and that was okay with me. After all i knew my wife can be such a stress head. Trying to be there for everyone, support everyone and even having your own dorm children to settle and deal with. I just wish she wouldn't neglect her own needs so much however, honestly it is one of her many qualities I adore.

Running a school for outcasts is certainly a challenge. However I couldn't imagine my life without it. Nevermore has been and always will be my home. I can't believe I found y/n who loves Nevermore just as much as I do. I knew from the first day she would be the one. Even if I couldn't admit it at the time. Me ? I couldn't be loved right? Oh but what a fool id been. A smile graced my lips at the memory of us. Remembering how she stuttered and stumbled over her words when attempting to admit her feelings for me. So adorable. The day she became my wife was the best day ever. Nothing could quite compare to how stunning she looked that day. It was as if the sun, stars and the moon paled in her beauty. All in white and a smile that never faded. Her eyes sparkled in a pure unbridled happiness as we danced bathing in the twinkling fairy lights. I'm pretty sure that was something Enid had an input on.

Y/n told me very early on of her ability. In fact, that's what encouraged me to be forthcoming of my own. Ironically Y/n was a less common type of outcast than I. The shapeshifter and empathic manipulator. Of course the name of her ability sounds bad. I mean I'm sure they could've found a more soothing name for it. But atlas they hadn't and my love seemed to take it all in her stride. Like all abilities it has limits. She could feel and project emotions through bonds. Most of the time, Y/n had to willingly create bonds. Which I've only seen her do once. She was exhausted for days after that. However when she explained her ability to me she explained how our bond was instant. A first for her. Often pushing emotions through a bond that was quite weak was a challenge for her. Exhausting her as her efforts all focused in the emotion. It was easy for her to be drowned in emotions of others especially the stronger more carnal ones.

At first it was a very odd sensation. It took some getting use to but now after years of practice it became normal. Often I would feel my lovers emotions. It almost faded into the background between us both. A comfortable normal. It had its uses of course, Y/n was forever sending calming waves through the bond if she sensed the stress I was feeling. Stress normally due to Wednesday Addams. Love radiated through the bond every now and then. A silent reminder. One I adored so very much. Yet tonight it was different.

The familiar pulsing of the bond sought your attention, distracting you from the email you were composing. Strong waves of fear, hurt and heartbreak were radiating through the bond. They crashed into me like tidal waves. Forceful merciless and unrelenting waves. My body shuddering with the force of the sob that left me. My breathing picked up rapidly and tears sprung into my eyes. These most certainly were not my own feelings. Y/n. Shit.

Discarding any thoughts of continue with work tonight, I saved my email closing my laptop before hurrying to my wife. Unfortunately for Y/n her emotional control was amazing but only when conscious. Her subconscious mind tend to run rampant especially triggered from her stress.

Y/n pov

No. Tears flowing like a tidal wave. Fuck. She can't be. Not my Rissa. She can't leave me. Not now not ever. "You promised forever" you half screamed half whimpered out clutching your hardly conscious wife to your chest. Hands putting pressure on her wound to help slow the bleeding. "Please Rissa talk to me. Open your beautiful eyes yeah?" You mumbled to her your own tears dropping to her cheeks and caressing them. "Please. Please don't leave me" you sobbed.

The women in your arms blinked slowly struggling to remain conscious. "D-darlin- pl-ease it h-urts" she whimpered sounding so unlike herself. Her usual commanding manner gone and in its place was the painful whimpers of your dying wife.

"I know Rissa I know I'm sorry I'm so sorry baby please don't go stay with me I love you mon alskar" you repeated on a loop. Where were these fucking medics? God she was dying and they were being so god damn slow. "Rissa we need to fire these medics when your better. Fucking tortoise would be faster" you mumbled angrily. This wasn't fair. You weren't ready.

A pained chuckle escaped your wife before she sucked in her last breath's whispering "in the next life my love" as her body gave up. She was gone. Fuck. There you sat on the conservatory floor, cradling the now corpse that was your wife and sobbing uncontrollably. This pain was like nothing you'd ever felt before.

A sob tore from your throat as you bolted upright. The tears streaming down your face as you gasped for air blinking rapidly. What? Please say that's just a terrible dream? A quick glance to your right only heightened your fears. She wasn't there. No . No this can't be . More sobs wrecked your small frame blinding you which is how you missed your stunningly gorgeous six foot three wife in the doorway. Your hands seemed to find purchase once more on her pillow only aiding your sobs. Tears soaking it rapidly as you struggled for air. Clammy skin and shaking limbs alongside the lack of air dizzying your mind was all your tale tales of a panic attack. You had to calm down before you passed out due to stress on your body. You knew that. But how could you calm down? Your wife was dead. She died in your arm. The love you built all feel to the ground and smashed into smithereens just like your heart... Fuck, what was air again? How do i breath? Everything is collapsing around me. The ground being ripped from below me.

"Darling? Oh pretty one you're okay. Can you breathe for me? Darling you need to breathe you'll pass out otherwise. Come on my love. I'm here" her voice broke through finally. How long had it been? You'd recognise the voice anywhere and it guided you like a lighthouse. Your own tortuous mind being the sea your broken ship was sailing. Your lighthouse guiding the way.

"R-r-ss " you choked out still not quite breathing and not quite sure if she was real. After all she'd just died in your arms?

"That's it pretty one good girl. I'm here Y/n. I won't touch you until you want it but I'm right here. You can hear my voice hmm? " she all but cooed out. Her soothing tone always seemed to ground you in times like this. After all this wasn't your first tango with the devil.

That's when it broke and you launched yourself in her strong capable arms. Sobbing uncontrollably, burying your face in her neck. You couldn't breathe but she was here that's all that mattered. Your love. Your life. Your gorgeous wife was here. Holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your hair. She shifted you slightly so you could feel the rhythmic pace of her breathing, that had been specifically slowed in order to reconnect yours. You still managed to stay hidden tears still flowing.

"Pretty one can you try and breathe with me?" She cooed and you instantly tried to comply. She was here and you'd do anything to keep her here. Even if that meant sucking in gasp of air into your burning lungs. "That's it good girl. Just like that for me" she praised as you choked out "h-hurts" much like your wife did in your subconscious state.

"Oh my darling, I know it does. You're doing so good for me. Just keep breathing for me. I love you so much Y/n weems. I won't leave you I promise. I have you now we are together okay?" She reassured you keeping an eye on your breathing. It was slowing at a snails pace. At least you were away from the brink of passing out she had found you at. Very cautiously you tested the bond between you both. All that radiated from it was love, concern and calming vibes. A small smile graced your lips even if only for a second. The bond was alive. Her heart beating below your head. Blood running threw her veins. It was all just a big horrible dream.

God knows how long your wife just held you. But by the time you were fully calmed in her arms yawns were escaping you. "Pretty girl are you tired my love?" She cooed her words wrapping around you like a cocoon. All you could muster was a weak nod into her shoulder. Only then did Larissa pull pack wipe your tear strained cheeks free of any stranded tears before pecking your lips. "Go lay down baby I'll join you in a minute?" She mumbled against your lips.

Wordlessly, you complied and she did her own nightly routine before going you. You settled against her chest clutching at her like a lifeline. "Darling would you like to talk about it?" She whispered into the now dark room. In which you shook your head against her. "Okay my love tomorrow yes?" In which you hummed in a confirmation. Talking about the things you felt during these episodes were vastly overwhelming for you. "Okay pretty girl. Try and sleep for me. I love you Y/n. And I'm right here okay?" You nodded once more before falling asleep in her arms.

Word count ~ 2152

*Authors note~ honestly took so long to write this I apologise for the hurt in this fic. *

#larissa weems #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #fanfic #larissa x reader #larissa x you #principle weems #principleweemsxreader

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dabisbratz · 1 year

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god i don’t even know what to say, so mgonna start off with a short n sweet thank you. thank you!! so so so much for 3k!!

i really wish there was somethin more i could say or do t’show how much i love n appreciate every single one of you. if i could gift you all your own lil personalized gifts i would!! all three thousand of you!! n with so much love n care!! when i first started off on tumblr i never expected t’get much traction— i wasn’t very confident in my ability to write (let alone write smut)— n imaginin all of you in one room, jus sittin there n watchin me write… i don’t even know what id do!! it warms m’heart to know that many people like what i put out, n i’m eternally grateful for all the love n support you’ve all given me!! feels like i’ve built the sweetest community ever, not a single bad egg!!

i love talkin to all of you. on anon, off anon, in comments or tags!! thank you for takin time out of your days t’interact with me. thank you for sendin your thoughts n experiences n troubles n jokes !! thank you for readin my fics, thank you for takin the time out your day to follow lil ol me. n thank you for bein patient with me. you’re all so special n precious, if not to yourself than to me. thank you.

thankyouthankyouthankyou!!! thank you a million times n then some, you don’t know how much ymean to me !! ♡ ♡

#yes!! You!!#dolly.txt

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thedomesticanthropologist · 26 days

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Hey Anthie, this question is kind of weird/complicated but I'll try my best to ask. It has to do with recovering from your past habits but I think it could also relate to general stress and handling difficult emotions and experiences (which would include addiction of course but sometimes like... just life too, I guess?)

Anyway, I wanted to hear how fiction helped you or currently helps you? For example I've seen people say that writing "helps" them but when I'm struggling I don't inspired to write, I feel terribly drained, and I'm also a perfectionist. I find it hard to relate to people who transform their pain into art. And I don't have any close friends in the same fandoms like I did when I was a teen so I don't have that sense of community where people encourage me to work on writing and I encourage them to work on their art/writing/etc.

I'm also not sure if it's good to entertain myself even though that might sound weird? Like I'll read, because... it's a thing I can do. And yeah, I enjoy it and have them. But I don't know if it's really aiding in "fixing" myself, and sometimes when I'm reading something, I start worrying that I'm wasting my time somehow? (I made reading more one of my goals for this year, because I went for literal years without reading for enjoyment, and thought my adult ADHD was going to make it impossible for me to ever read again, but now that I'm actually doing it, I don't know how much of an accomplishment it actually is)

Just wanted to hear if any of this ever felt relatable to you, and how you overcame it if so? Thank you and hope you continue to do great with everything, I wish you the best!

This took me a while to get to! thank you for your patience. I tried to narrow your questions down a bit so I hope this is around and about what you were wanting. Under the cut cause its long

How does fiction help with recovering from past habits, handling stress, and difficult emotions and experiences?

Fiction is a way to express yourself without making it about you specifically. You can create situations and put characters through The Horrors, or The Softness, and many writers find catharsis in the act. It can also help your brain process things, and be an outlet for all the feelings and thoughts inside. For me personally, I use fiction to explore thoughts, feelings, ideas, as well as to project or express parts of myself- Im also attracted to writing about things and people I DONT relate to, as a way of learning about them, exploring them, etc. Writing an addict as an addict can be a neat way to look at my issues through a new set of eyes, even if the addict character isn't anything like me, doesn't act the same or process the same, etc.

Can engaging in creative activities like writing be helpful, even if it doesn't feel inspiring during tough times?

Science has proven that writing down your thoughts helps your brain process them, just simply the act of translating from mind to page has benefits. Having it make sense is not as important as just simply... getting it out. Entertaining YOURSELF should always be the first priority in creating art and writing, because if we do it for others, then we are setting ourselves up for disappointment

Is it okay to entertain oneself with activities like reading during difficult times, even if it feels like it might be wasting time?

Doing things for yourself is always okay. It is never a waste of time to take care of yourself. Some people say things like "you don't always have to be productive in order to have your activities be valid" but Id go so far as to say that engaging in reading, writing, drawing, and other "self-indulgent" experiences IS being productive. its being productive for YOU. You arent something that needs to be fixed, you are someone that needs to be accepted. Recovering from self shame starts with being willing to look at yourself not as a problem, but as a person. And the things that make you feel good, regardless of whose watching or who OUTSIDE yourself benefits are worthy persuits

How can one overcome feelings of isolation and lack of community when engaging in creative pursuits?

So I kind of segued into this a little, and I just want to expand a bit. I looked this up and its pretty close to what I wanted to say so Ill share

"Focusing on your own fulfillment and growth in your creative pursuits can be empowering. Prioritize your passion and intrinsic motivation rather than seeking external validation or connection. Set meaningful goals, establish a regular routine, and celebrate your progress along the way. Embrace your creativity as a form of self-expression and personal fulfillment, nurturing your artistic voice and finding joy in the process."

This may be like, hey! I said I wanted community! but honestly, seeking out community and connection can *scare us away from trying* sometimes. Theres all these rules we put on ourselves about not being good enough, or not having friends who have the same interests, not being noticed or validated when we display our work, not having people to talk about. All of that is absolutely valid but it really gets in the way of the creative process and who we are really doing it for (us)

Community tends to appear when you start to share. Considering it a bonus instead of the focus is just a shift in perspective rather than a shift in action. Finding online communities that are related to the work you are producing and sharing what you have is great! starting conversations and new connections is great! but seeking external validation means that you can get absolutely destroyed if you share something you're proud of and no one really notices it. Its so much better to enjoy what you've created, and just put it out there with the thought that if its noticed great! but the best thing was that it was something you enjoyed making.

#asks #answers #writeblr #writerscommunity #writing #mental health

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fictionfixations · 2 months

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twst halloween

so ive been reading the events for twst all day. (like the dialogue for the stories)

SO. okay so i need to talk about halloween for a second--

so of course, spoilers for the event

deep breaths (i had started writing while reading. then i got very frustrated and it went on from there. haha. it gets long.)

---------------------------------

unique magic Tag. something like that

Where they can mark something, and it'll have a specific tag unique to that person (it'll stay in their memory until the tag is removed or fades away, in which the memory will fade normally instead of never). They could also tag items to that person (as in it'll have that person's unique signature that ties them together).

….honestly ive been like reading the twst halloween stuff. ( SPOILERS ) and for pomefiore they're in like the mirror hall and these mfs kept taking pictures INSIDE when its NOT ALLOWED (…bruh now people know what it looks like inside! what if theres like a flaw thats been caught on camera that'd help future criminal doers do something there!?)

anyway. so i was thinking of confiscating like phones. but so it doesnt get lost, or given to the wrong person.

this random pomefiore student being able to tag people with skin contact (example: passing the phone along, light touch on, say, the hand and the phone, and thus tagging and attaching them together through a line only they can see)

and it'd also help if say that same person did something malicious like 'hey, that's not your phone!' or 'i know that person!'

sorry im just kind of really ticked off at them. and all the other magicam monsters i swear--

im angry ranting now

oKAY for one that guy who was climbing the apple tree. you realize that if you do that people are just gonna want to do that to for the views so they'll climb it evne if they have no experience in it and will probably injure themselves or worse!?

ALSO THE FLOWERS. SCREAMS in heartslabyul OH MY GOD (i think id actually get so frustrated too though like bruh. idfk. WHAT IF THEYRE POISONOUS? i mean they probably wouldnt be out in the open but like. HELLO? YOU DONT KNOW THESE PLANTS. [they're for like potions] WTF ARE YOU DOING. THEY COULD BE HOME TO A VICIOUS SPECIES FOR ALL YOU KNOW YOU IDIOT)

pictures are horrendous. savanaclaw… 1. Why the fuck did someone make up some bs rumor that putting like treasure on your head (its fake tho) would like grant you a wish? WHY? WHAT DO YOU GAIN FROM THAT!?? HELLO???? also oh my god as a person who hates everything about being in pictures (i have to be tricked to get my picture taken ugh) THAT WAS HORRIBLE TO READ. im reading on the wiki by the way because i want the context. also oh my god (im sorry im saying that a lot.) as a person who was absolutely repulsed by touch for awhile (and still kind of squeamish about it but dont have the courage to shove ppl off half the time) i think id die inside. like. okay so they're like touching his ears and his tail (i only remember the ear but i was so pissed off i dont know if i imagined the tail bit or not) and kinda his everything right? WHY? thats. like. such an invasion of privacy. like. HELLO??? WHAT ARE YOU DOING. pleASE stop???? also oh my god WHYH ARE YOU MAKING A MESS OF IT WHAT tHE HECK (they should have like those ropes that signify 'you're not allowed past this part' to make it clear HEY youre not allowed to touch that. but also some people will ignore it and they could get overrun FAST. ughhh)

octavinelle

i wish i could say that people have the courtesy to be careful not to do anything to harm others but i cant really no words. just. oh my god. be CAREFUL WITH WHAT YOU'RE DOING . there are important sUBSTANCES HERE THAT ARE VERY FRAGILE. (they should've been made to pay for it ughhh. teach them.)

scarabia. honestly ive read a fic that went over this before. and honestly its very funny. so like yuu's just going to sam's shop where they are the teachers are nearby (stunned) and jamils just like 'I'LL BURN IT ALL TO THE GROUND' and its HILARIOUS. also bugs. shudder. i dont even know how youd get people to stop wasting the food tho. man. bruh.

(also where are there self preservation skills oh my god)

ignihyde. oh my god THEYVE DONE THE WORST CRIME OF THEM ALL. THE DESTRUCTION OF BOOKS. okay im being overdramatic but WHAT THE FUCK if anyone did that to my books id honestly be so done.

well anything else could be salvaged sort of (with the exception of the destruction of the plants, the destruction of one of the things in the lab, and this) but. this. destruction of property???????? FOR ALL YOU KNOW THAT COULD'VE BEEN SOME SUPER RARE VERY LIMITED BOOK WITH ONLY. LIKE. 10 COPIES MADE. OR LIKE. ITS ENTIRELY HANDWRITTEN BY SOME FAMOUS PERSON WHO DIED A LONG TIME AGO AND THIS IS ALL WE HAVE LEFT AND YOU DESTROY IT!

AGHHH. im so aggravated. (as a person who ADORES books. im so irritated. i mean dont get me wrong they arent that important to me. but the library is my favorite part in a school! i love reading! its practically sacred!) "Jail. Jail for one thousand years! Some of us LIKE being alone, y'know? Please, for the love of everything, just let us live our gremlin lives!" YES. (honestly. out of all the dorms. if not savanaclaw, then id probably be in ignihyde. like yes hide me away forever so i can play games and not have to interact with people)

"Y'know, for Malleus Draconia! The guy so zetta powerful that everybody trembles at his name! Getting a picture of yourself touching him is a legendary feat."

SCREAMS INTO PILLOW

WHY THE FUCK ARE PEOPLE BRNEAKING AND ENTERING WHY OD YOU IGNORE A SIGN

im so rrry im yttypingoifnhgfh there comes a point where im so frustrated i cant typer ight. heavy sigh

WHY WOULD YOU IGNORE A SIGN. THAT CLEARLY GIVES YOU A WARNING?! YOURE LITERALLY BREAKING AND ENTERING. THERE IS A REASON THAT SIGN IS THERE. WHY WOULD YOU JUST SHRUG IT OFF BASED ON APPEARANCES???! HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF DONT JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER? I SWEAR. AGHH thats. such. a major. violation. i cant… AGHH

i wonder if a sort of barrier spell to prevent people from moving past (aka into the dorm) would be possible. but that might be a huge drain and whose to say they couldnt idfk take pictures through the windows? ew stalkery behavior, and not any better.

AND NOTHING CAN BE DONE BECAUSE YOU KNOW WAHT THE HEADLINES ARE GONNA SAY?

'NRC student attacks tourist!'. IT WONT EVEN MENTION ANY WRONGDOINGD THE TOURIST HAD DONE AND ITLL SPREAD FROM THERE AND AGHHHHHHH

THE STATUES? WHAT THE FUCK!? that. i. AGH (people are so dumb. why. would you. post a picture OF YOU COMMITTING A CRIME!?)

!!!! POP OFF (edit: this is like heartslabyul going against the magicam monsters. id probably adore octavinelle's if i hadn't already been spoiled about it lol)

----------------------

kind of off topic. but yknow what? i kind of feel like im really living up to my riddle pfp lmFAO

(i wrote it all down on discord. i probably could've just started it on a tumblr post instead but it didnt even occur to me)

#twst spoilers #twst #twisted wonderland #twst halloween #twst wonderland #thoughts #random stuff #angry rant

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petewentzisblack1312 · 4 months

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hi i wanted to ask something but also share something personal as well. my q is: do you feel like your relationship w social media has changed? meaning, do you catch / notice when you are on it for too long and you start to notice, and then you say: okay let's take a break. for me, i have been online for a long time ever since i was a kid, and now my relationship to it is i only limit myself an hour to being on my phone. as an adult now i am no longer social media "obsessed". like, when i am in school i am not thinking about online, i am present when im at school. i feel like i am really close to just deleting sm tbh. it does not grant me happiness like it used to. now as an adult i feel this need to live my life freely.

i also wanted to ask what are ur thoughts on content influencers? to me when i see these ppl i think...i could never post about everything about my life, but then again understanding that it is just a highlight reel. no one is posting every sad / frustrating thing that happens in their life as influencer, only the "great" parts.

this is an interesting question! i think ive never really had a relationship to social media where i feel like i need to post constantly or felt pressured to share everything. while im definitely the most online out of my household, compared to a lot of other people im not really very present online. i dont like using twitter, i only really use instagram to look at and post art and occasionally post a picture of my cat or nature or food on my main account, i dont really get up to much and i never use facebook unless i have to. i hate it. even here on tumblr i dont post a lot about my personal life unprompted, and this is the social media site i use the most by far. i do scroll tumblr a lot, i do watch a lot of youtube videos (though almost exclusively video essays on politics and recently also artist vlogs) and i do notice myself scrolling a bit too much, particularly when im overstimulated but instead of doing something less stimulating im anxious and looking for a distraction so i like. scroll harder. but ive never been like doing something else and thought 'man, i wish i was scrolling right now'. i dont really know. i do have trouble putting my phone down, like when i need to sleep, but i have trouble putting ANYTHING down. games, books, art or writing or projects im working on, music im listening to, i dont think tumblr is special, its just another activity for me to be distracted by.

all that being said, i did leave social media for a while. i had a really bad experience in a fandom on tumblr (not the pwams incident. that led me to step away from bandom and move to another fandom) and honestly it made me realise that the problem i had with social media wasnt that i was using it too much, but that i had a toxic relationship with the communities i was interacting with on there. the nature of my relationship to social media was unhealthy, not the fact that i had one that was a large part of my life. i think when i wasnt using any social media i actually wasnt in a great place either, because i was isolated from people id cared about, especially since i had just undergone a very traumatic incident, and because of that became very isolated from my in person friends as well, even before the pandemic pushed me away from even the acquaintances i had made. i was worried about coming back to tumblr, but i think ive grown and learned in such a way that i know how i like to comport myself in cyberspaces, and that its been good for me in a way. which is weird, but. i think id kind of have to go in depth about my life and how the pandemic affected me and the specific nature of coming of age in st lucia and stuff. which i dont want to do haha.

as for influencers. i hate the concept. i understand it, and i dont universally hate influencers as a whole, but like. theres this specific kind of content creator where the thing they are sharing is just their life and there isnt like a specific thing theyre logging, like an artist sharing their creative process and how they manage their life around that, or a chef sharing recipes, and its not like theyre doing it just to do it, they have the goal of growing a following, and theyre not advertising anything but themself, like JUST themself, as a person-brand, and i find that so deeply annoying and repulsive. and like thats strong wording its a dog eat dog world and the girlies of all genders need to secure the bag like i get it. i get it. but its revolting to me. like. the vlogbrothers werent trying to get famous they were using youtube to communicate with each other and as an open video diary and people found them to be interesting personalities to watch. right. do you get it. annoyingly i gotta put myself out there if i want people to find my art and pins and stuff so i have to fuckin. make videos. sell people on me. the idea of making vlogs makes me dry heave bc im not important i dont want to have to sell myself like im important i dont want to put my face on a camera and implicitly say with every quirky performed statement i make 'i matter, pay attention to me, i need to exist so look at me' but unfortunately i might have to. a video essay i could do. thats me saying something. but a vlog? with the goal of people finding my stuff? good god. it sounds like poison.

#dils declares #my tripod is broken so im using that as an excuse to not vlog.#i can do shortform video. thats dispassionate.#thats 60 seconds of selling myself or more likely my stuff in a highly edited way #there is no veneer of authenticity. no kayfabe.#i can do that.#but a whole fucking vlog? nauseating.

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ladyseidr · 8 months

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And another headcanon dump! TW for vaguely discussed self-harm.

by the time he's, like, 20, he's got multiple ear piercings and a septum piercing

in that same vein, planned on getting tattoos before getting scooped

only interested in the above because it's genuinely his style, not to like. get back at his dad or whatever. (like at most my william would slightly resent the fact that mike does whatever the fuck he wants with his appearance VS william forcing himself to stay so in line, if that makes sense. he's not old-fashioned regarding piercing/tattoos/etc)

bi, but has an extremely strong preference for men and masc-aligned ppl

complicated relationship with gender. like, he's fairly openly queer and interacts with other queer ppl, so he does explore gender presentation to an extent in those spaces, but hurricane isn't exactly... a queer hotspot (unless they're my portrayals in which case nobody is straight ever). still, he doesn't really hear abt IDing as nonbinary until long after the scooping. at that point, his identity as a whole is, er, complex and it's not really his priority. but he does recognize that he's nb at that point. tends to still default to using he/him pronouns and masc terminology, but comfortable with and occasionally uses they/them.

this is a headcanon i'm Tentative to post because i think ppl can be nervous because of my personal experiences, but fuck it: he absolutely struggles with self-harm. it starts in high school and honestly he never fully recovers normally. the scooping kind of, uh, gets in the way of it. he was already trying to get clean prior, but y'know. this should be a given, but he covers the wounds/scars and doesn't tell people. by default, nobody in his family knows about it.

to be clear about the above: i am comfortable exploring this topic so long as you don't try to get me to write him (or any muse) actively self-harming. i'm a grown adult, i know my limits and i'm more than capable of messaging ppl if i need things toned down. i'm also many, many years clean at this point. please don't baby me if you're interested in exploring this topic (and, on that note, i will never even allude to his self-harm unless you have explicitly told me it's okay).

def works at fred.dy's off-and-on prior to william's disappearance. fucking hates it, but also struggles to keep jobs elsewhere. prefers working at locations william isn't active at, but just keeps ending up alongside him regardless. can't escape each other and all that shit lmao

actually pretty damn intelligent but absolutely doesn't believe this abt himself

hates his father but also still loves him. yes, ever after everything. nothing about their relationship is or will ever be simple. regretfully remembers the "good times." wishes he didn't. (glad he does, because what else does he have?)

speaking specifically on my elise: loves her. resents her deeply. when he's younger, fully pegs her as a shitty mother. when older, gets it but still just can't completely forgive her. absolutely feels abandoned by her and tells her at one point in the midst of an argument

headcanon tag is a reference to this song because uh? "this is who i am / nobody said you had to like it / this is who i am / a modern tragedy / bury your mistakes / clear those bones from your closet / with wisdom there’s pain" ?????

there's literally so much more i could write but let's just fkjsdsda leave it here for now

#˖ ♡ 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃. » modern tragedy ( michael afton )#f n a f /#self-harm mention tw #implied emotional abuse tw #ask to tag /#i think abt mike i get sad that's just fn.af babey!!!

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shadamyheadcanons · 2 years

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Submission #75

Shadamy Snippet! ((Just something that Id liked to add to all you’re pregnancy headcanons lol!)) “So… how’s it feel?” Amy excitedly waited for Shadow’s response as he placed his palm on her belly. “… I don’t understand. Does the baby know I’m there?” Shadow asked while feeling around Amy’s stomach. “Shadow it’s just a bonding experience— you’re going to be father soon, and I think you’ll like the feeling them kick. They’re a fighter.” She smiled, grasping his moving hand and placing it softly on the top of her swollen belly. “Try again. You’ve got to listen really carefully.” Amy let him go, patiently waiting for another attempt. Shadow leaned forward, as pacing his ear on her skin and closed his eyes. Still, nothing. Shadow’s disappointment grew. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for this sensitivity stuff. It wasn’t hard to be vulnerable with Amy. She was a part of him but a new baby would be so much different. Amy was so excited of their child’s features, admitting that she wished for the baby to share Shadow’s eyes and fluffy fur. Rouge teased the idea of their baby being a mini-clone, going on to challenge Sonic to over and over again while Omega was already calculating the statistics of the baby’s genomes in an effort to give Shadow some ease that the baby would most definitely take after him. Wait. Something was stirring. Shadow would’ve mistaken it for his own energy if it hadn’t happened again. Warmth radiated from Amy’s belly. It enveloped him like a warm blanket whilst he swore he could someone’s presence next him. “Hello…” He said quietly. The warmth around him seemed to increase. It pulsated like a heartbeat, causing a great wave of affection to overcome the hedgehog before he pulled away. “Shadow?” Amy asked puzzled. “Did you hear anything?” She cupped his cheek before watching him sit up on the couch. “Our baby is teeming with chaos energy.” Shadow said, collecting his composure at the sudden discovery. “Well, they are your child Shadow—“ Amy started before Shadow grasped her hands. “No I mean… like a chaos emerald somehow.”

((I love the idea of Shadow being completely uninformed about babies and pregnancy, even though it might be sad to think about why. What if he never assumed he’d be a father? I did write a headcanon about him worrying that he wouldn’t be good at it.

That aside, I’ve always thought Shadow’s red eyes would combine well with Amy’s pink fur, just as this says. And Omega would absolutely think making Punnett squares would put Shadow’s mind at ease. What if Chaos energy compounds over generations, like Shadow and Amy’s amounts add up to make a kid who’s extra good with it? Their kid could have Shadow’s Chaos Control/Spear/Blast, etc. and Amy’s invisibility, foresight, and sixth sense! The games haven’t explored the potential of Mobian parents aside from Cream’s mother, and I haven’t seen Vanilla or Cream use Chaos energy, so who knows?

Thanks for submitting!))

#shadamy #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #submission #anonymous

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sapphire-weapon · 8 months

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I remember you saying you disliked ID and particularly how Leon was written. While I'm far less familiar with RE compared to you, I thought I'd ask for you to elaborate and go more in depth as to why you thought Leon specifically was poorly portrayed. I actually enjoyed ID and him. Was it a masterpiece? Well, no. It's a video game CGI film. I first came away thinking it was pretty bad, but I learned to enjoy it for what it was.

I found most characters pretty straight forward about who they are what they wanted to do. Claire needed a LOT more screentime, they fucked her up via laziness imo. Leon was fine. He was very cringe inducing (shudders on behalf of Shen May), but I thought it was a good insight to the chokehold that his duty has on him. How he struggles with making the most ethical choices, guilt and how it impacts his relationships with other people. Did ID do this particularly well? Not exactly, but I looked for it and found it.

I HARD agree that Death Island tops it all though. It had a solid story, a great villain, gave Jill a phenomenal comeback (cough, minus the sexist anti-aging bullshit that all RE women are forced to face), we saw Leon getting his shit wrecked (which I personally found funny as hell) and it was actually FUN to watch. It stuck out to me as a film that anybody, particularly those unfamiliar with the franchise, could easily follow and piece together, which other adaptations didn't do. To me, they only felt like "hey, fans who like these characters will GET it, others won't understand the appeal", but maybe I'm wrong.

Anyways, apologies for the novel length ask, I hope you're kind enough to indulge me, lol. Wishing you a wonderful weekend. (Apologies for grammar mistakes, girl I'm high as shit and just really, really enjoy talking bs with other fans, lmfao! I'm the Mr. X anon.)

I didn't say he was poorly portrayed in Infinite Darkness. I said his voice seemed inconsistent and, as a result, gave me the impression that he was going through wild mood swings at varying points of the show.

One scene that particularly comes to mind is towards the very beginning when Jason is trauma dumping on him, like... Leon is the one who initiates that conversation seemingly out of concern/empathy/genuine curiosity, and his tone starting out is one of like "hey lil buddy what's on ur mind we need to be able to work together on shit if we're gonna survive" and then like

out of nowhere, after Jason's story is over, Leon just like

snaps

for no reason? And starts shouting about how no one gives a shit about Raccoon City?

where the fuck did that come from and are you off your meds because you seem a little unbalanced like you might be off your meds

shit literally just comes out of nowhere, almost completely unprovoked, and I have no idea why.

So that's why my takeaway was: I don't feel like ID knew what they wanted Leon to actually be in terms of his placement in his character arc. Is he Mr. Supportive Man of Experience Who's Seen Some Shit? Or is he just full "fuck the police" angry mode? Because putting both not just in the same scene, but in the very same conversation, is just bad dialogue writing.

Like, Leon's character wasn't the problem. There was never a point where I was like "wow, that doesn't sound like him." It all sounded like him, but it sounded like him if you took his lines from the entirety of his character arc and just picked and chose at random which ones he was going to say.

It wasn't the character writing. It was the dialogue writing. Those are two different things. The character was fine. The dialogue was shit.

Infinite Darkness really could've used a first draft.

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hekatekun · 2 years

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hiii i really really love the way you write and the themes you touch on in your posts id love to hear if theres any books/media that influenced your writing style + the things you focus on in your analyses !

omg hiiii thank you<3 this got annoying so lemme put it under cut lol

This is actually really hard for me to pin down I've been racking my brains over this one. I tend to be a little bit of everywhere, just whatever catches my interest at the time. Most of my personal reading is nonfiction within the realm of philosophy/theology + history + english criticism; whatever fiction I do get around to tends to be horror and/or satire. House of Leaves by MZD actually has just about everything that tickles my fancy. Finally read it beginning of 2021 and I truly haven't been the same since. That's definitely a big one.

But to give you an idea here's the pile of books I'm looking at on my desk as I type this is: an anthology of John Wesley's sermons (founder of Methodism), House of Leaves, an anthology of Percy Shelley's poetry + prose, "The Sphinx in the City" essays on urban living + feminism, the communist manifesto, a dissertation on the influence of Hermann Hesse in Japan, "Thank God for the Atom Bomb" essays by a "conservative cultural critic", and how could i forget the 70pgs of the unabomber's manifesto i printed out.

Currently been slowly making my way through "Romanticism and Consciousness" which are essays on the historical/political background influencing Romantic literature. More often than not I tend to look for essays and critical readings of works before I actually do read said work proper. I don't recommend this btw I just never listen to my own advice. But like, this book inspired me to buy the Shelley anthology. And some of the essays in the Shelley anthology analyzing him I actually found online weeks prior and added them to my digital library. I'd rather read them physically, as I tend to highlight my books. I find highlighting + margin notes really help me stay focused otherwise simply Sitting And Reading makes me go a lil nutz unless the book really is that good. I backed an artist's first comic book that had me ensnared recently. Independent comics tend to do a number on me. Yes I'm still a huge homestuck fan. Will be going 8 years strong.

I reread Brave New World late 2020 after, somehow, getting my hands on it in middle school. Comparing the way the protagonist kills himself at the end vs trying to read Huxley's theological pieces, he should've stuck to the racist satire. I'm still gonna try to finish the Perennial Philosophy, though. All this rambling has me realizing the childhood series I grew up on was A Series of Unfortunate Events, so I think I'm starting to notice a trend.

But actually the biggest media type I consume is games I fucking love video games. I think I cried playing Disco Elysium. I wish more games understood its medium as well as DE. I think that's really what you have to find is stuff that understands its medium. Ososan is a show that is really fucking good at being a tv show, and I think it helps because it doesn't necessarily draw from anything prior because it's such a different beast from osokun (the ososan manga actually came out like a few months after it aired I learned recently).

I don't watch many movies or shows, and the ones I do make me really wanna read the original source material just so I could compare (A Clockwork Orange, American Psycho). I just last watched the Belladonna of Sadness and I think that's an animated movie that understands it's an animated movie. Why go for realism when you've got watercolors?

My other main criteria for any piece of work is that it makes me want to pick up smoking. I don't think I could explain this further if you asked.

Aside from. Any of whatever I just said. My writing background is largely academic with some journalistic experience. It makes media analysis really easy. It also helps that there's technically no wrong answer when it comes to critical readings, just like any school essay you just have to be able to back up your claims with evidence and articulate the connections you see. Prose is a new beast that I am attempting to tame but I think 1. You need to have fun with the learning process and I do in fact enjoy learning. This includes a willingness to examine and reexamine your own words even after you're done working on a piece and analyzing what you can/need to improve on. 2. I really enjoy being able to construct a sentence in a million different ways and I will always have a tab open for the Merriam-Webster dictionary-thesaurus while writing ANYTHING. 3. Did I mention having fun? I really have fun writing I love writing as a hobbyist. 4. Consume and question everything in equal measure. This will eventually produce something.

#ask #i hope i answered this well enough this is fucking word vomit lmao

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sweetbabyrayray · 4 months

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i know youre going through a hard time with what happened with your ex but keeping a 40 page document of his stuff wont help. ranting online wont help. ive been through what you have and trust me the sooner you realize that you arent innocent and need to work on yourself as well, and to just leave him behind, the happier you will be. hes just some guy hes nothing, live life for YOU! genuinely hoping you the best, i believe in everything youre capable of and forget about him. im also very sorry about your neck. wishing you all the best, truly and fervently. it all gets easier with time.

oh shit did i have a queued post? my bad, gamer.

i genuinely have been trying to think about other stuff these past two months. i started the document two weeks before we broke up because it documented how i'd perceived my experience this year while recognizing both my failings as a friend and partner AND his. i wanted to show it to him so i could get my feelings across, because he kept saying his autism made it so he had a hard time considering other people's perspectives. obviously, he didnt care, and i havent looked at or thought about it in a bit. two weeks, maybe. i like having the documentation though, since my memory is shit (depression reasons, and hitting my head in 2021). i tend to write things down to help with that.

also, i know im not innocent, dont worry. i have always been willing to consider my actions and apologize for the mistakes ive made. i apologized any time he told me i'd done wrong and worked hard to consider how i could do better. thats what the document was for too -- to better clarify for him that i recognized i had failed too, since my previous attempts hadn't been enough. the problem that keeps coming back to haunt me is how he refused to do the same and pretends he's blameless. he accused me of manipulating him into believing he had done me wrong. he compared me to my manipulative, abusive mother, who he knows abused me heavily growing up. he tried to claim our relationship had never been as serious as id thought so i should just get over the break up and treated me like shit for being hurt, even though he tried to propose to me late last year and said that moving in with me had been something he always planned for and wanted. he cheated on me and then broke up with me for trying to talk about it, absolving himself of responsibility while also saying nasty things to me and making me feel stupid for trying to set boundaries in the first place. i try not to think about it, i distract myself with video games and hanging out with friends, its just nights that are the hardest, yknow. he said some incredibly shitty stuff to me at the end, and lied to me so so much all year, and it really got in my head. im working extremely hard to move past it, because its fucking me up.

i really want to live for me now. the situation im in ( having no money, no job, no car, no home, and being disabled) doesnt make it easy, especially since he directly is responsible for me being in this position. i really really want things to get better so i can stop being reminded of the shit that got me here. i hope it gets better. i really do.

#ray speaks #thank you for the kind words gamer #i apologize for whatever post i queued that inspired you to send this ask because i dont recall writing any posts about rory recently

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realhankmccoy · 8 months

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Q: Hank, give me a rundown on who the Trump 5 is cucking themselves to lately

A: Dad - Bruce - Jordan Peterson Christina - Trump with a hard pour splash of Nazism (not reading her blog til maybe Octobert because she's a piece of shit who's calling people "rotarded" and "merdgets" like she's the second coming of Ann Coulter / Trump, just generally learned to get away with what Trump permits to get away with -- she really wants to say the N-word but just pisses herself for Tarantino instead hoping that the rules change and she can write N*gger N8gger N8888 on her page all day -- she doesn't even necessarily know this is her wish because she's always blind to how her Daddys restrict her gameplay on 'in bounds' and 'out of bounds' this is also something Elon Musk wishes for who is also likewise lacking a mind that cares or thinks critically about the playpen he inhabits and was made for him by a more accepting and generous society than he deserved -- but she changes very slowly so i'm sure it's still the usual two people she's cucking herself to which are Trump and the Nazi)... i like leaving her reminders of what a Trumplican dungheap she's made herself into, especially because she's used Trumpism to not even have to admit error when she calls people RItarded and whatever else gets her willy excited and makes her feel like she has a shred of the manliness that her cuckery told her she missed out on -- the only thing she's right about there is that she's never been a man, but it's not any mommy's or women's 'abusive' fault... i know from my own experience with her that she was just loved and cherished and coddled too much to grow up

Dad - Trump and Bro.... still working that straight male tribalist angle... still feeling like 100% USDA BEEF NO MATTER HOW FUCKING STUPID AND SELFISH is the magical seed of the future

Bro - Capitalism

so let's run down without that block to shame Christina for her Trump shield -- Trump is like the iron dome she uses to convince herself that all her shitty fucking spoiled brat behaviour is forever off the hook from social criticism and reform -- which is why i like colouring in a billboard to let her cucked eyes have to peer out from behind Donald's control and see the redundant numbing messages until maybe she gets stuck as a cuck forever which would be the best punishment anyone could give her? i dunno why i like doing it, i guess to see what happens because

i have a moralistic, however obsessive, enjoyment i find in making blatantly obvious liars and hypocrites and selfish fucks squim a bit -- however protected under Trump's iron dome of 'you're a killer and only your opinion of you matters' they all typically are, as Wonderbread slices of the American capitalism homicidal Whitebread machine --

I enjoy it with my dad, too, and with Bruce to a lesser extent.

i dunno, i knew precisely right from the start whenever Christina pretended she was concerned that 'somebody might get hurt' that she was dishonest, unprincipled and projecting because the person who wanted to hurt others was always her and the racist was always her -- which was super obvious from the shit she'd blurt and how it involved zero social compromise on her part with black america and zero real interest other than maybe a powerful white person said a token interest *might* be interesting, which of course as a typical spoiled white she never followed through on

she proved me 100x more right than i even expected, and signed up hardcore to cuck herself to Trump and her Nazi friend and to try to push those N*gger-heavy Tarantino friends over the world like she was a servile cuck tryin to flood the earth with the N word for her SkyDaddy... super obvious what's tickin in her cucked id there and it's so fucking grody

WHO CARES sez the Wonderbread Christina WHO CARES IF THEY GET HURT NOT ME USE MORE N WORD U DO UR ART QUENTIN YEH YEH YEH YEH YEH YEH JUST DO IT NIKE SHOES NIKE

only person she ever worried about getting hurt from a Tarantino film

was a white person and basically like a Nazi

pathetic, she's not As obvious as my Dad, Bruce and Bro in this regard and tries to issue proclamations and disclaimers to cover up her dirty pleads for whitey, especially if whitey a Nazi -- done dirt cheap but she's still super transparent

super fucking sick and spoiled brat and if these cucks don't have the strength to break away from those who cucked em

it's no skin off my white ass. please these people have grown so attached to whiteness that i'm off the hook from them simply because of that, like how the Klan would say im merely misguided and need to forget about -- JUST CAST THEM ASIDE LIKE SCARLETT O'HARA WUD -- or even fight the real enemuh: the gheys and the 'tards and the blacks

fuckin sick and i guess i like pickin racists hypocrities and rotten eggs apart to see how precisely it all unfolds unwittingly in their mind like those clear phones with the circuitry visible like i had in the 90s i think i got it

by being an entrepreneur

i went door to door selling chocolates and Hallmark cards and a lot of crap man i really worked it for that $20 clear phone

if memory serves

which it might not

maybe the phone was from mom n / or dad maybe there was never a phone and i just dreamed of wanting it

I DEFINITELY DID to speak like Christina's DADDUH -- I DEFINITELY DID get a hexagonal fish tank of some sort

and fill it full of a bunch of tadpoles i scoped out of a puddle in the mud up in Riverview

and they actually got bigger til they all died in one burst one day except for one, like a big fat one

which lived maybe another week and then died too

i wonder why? too late to do an autopsy

anyhow i'm glad i talked this through in my head, thought it through

christina is a Typical and the lesson is

Typicals are way more hypocritical, deceitful, phony and racist than you know

and than they know

perhaps i learned that from my mother when she said she doesn't know why my dad is so stupid and that he's 'not as liberal as he thinks he is'

the trump 5 will seriously blame a papercut on Women and scream bloody murder

i'm more than anything sick of their utter lack of manliness a man doesn't need this whole fucing 'victim of woman' 'victim of libs' shit

it's just so unbelievably whiny and weak and dumb and cucked

it's all those things and america is chokin on its own tribalisms and climate changes because of these idiots

#mommie dearest

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