A thank you to all the blogger’s who let me pick there brains for there opinions.
Your body hung limply from the thick chains bolted the walls. Wall’s that were painted black to prevent any form of light from staying. Chains that weren’t meant for you.
A stray tear escaped. It was all you would allow. Otherwise, the thin wall separating this experience from you would break. Compartmentalization.
A shuddering inhales stabilizing your feeling’s. Your eye’s going dead while limbs screamed.
It had been days since you had last eaten. The randomized hunger pangs would spike overriding the pain everywhere else. Stomach gnawing at itself in rebellion.
Other time’s the pain in your shoulder’s overrode all else, between the muscle tears and strains it was agony each time you were jostled. Your mind straining to keep itself together.
The door opened the dreary yet caustic light spilling into your cell. Eyelids fluttering as your pupil’s adjusted.
“Are you prepared to speak with me now, darling?” The well-dressed man asked his lithe form lounging in the doorway. Nothing but his outline visible against the offensive light.
Head lolling to the side, a look of defiance your reply. Your hair so greasy it scarcely moved with the action.
*Raphael’s going to tear you apart.*
The slightest evidence of a smirk on your lips. The action enough to antagonize the short man in front of you. A whip roiling in his hands.
When it cracked your naked body flinched involuntarily. Your weight shifting accidently putting pressure on your ankle. You were still uncertain of the extent of the damage. A harsh, sharp breath against the pain.
“So breathtaking, my pet.” Staring him down through the pain permeating your body. This wasn’t your first interaction with the sadistic psycho. The act of defiance your only balm.
His hand cupping your breast with deceptive tenderness. Your eye’s looking forward at the wall. Mind going blank as you fought down the urge to vomit.
His lip curling. Eye’s going mad with rage.
“You don’t want to be petted by me?!?” He shrieked, arm shaking until his palm connected with your cheek. Your chapped lip splitting open, the blood spilling down your chin calming him.
“See what my precious made me do?” The glazed over calm concealing the crazy more frightening than the rage.
His shorter form stepping back. You felt the tear of skin before the mark appeared. Skin puckering an inch long incision forming before the blood slowly pooled at the surface. The fucker was nuts, but he knew his way around a signal whip.
Your body had the evidence: slowly healing marks, various bruises, cut’s, and gashes marred your delicate skin. Each one a reminder.
Pride and Victory.
Right now, all there was, was the pain.
Before you knew it, your body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. The salt making your wounds sting. Your breath shuddering. The first evidence of your broken down will sliding down your nose.
The door opening yet again. Camera in the corner allowing all outside to view.
“Now. Shall we?” Vern walking forward in an Armani pinstripe suit. His eye’s an unnatural shade of their former blue.
All the while you wept, afraid that you had been forgotten. Left to a fate that would leave you begging for death.
“Tell me where the turtles went? I know you’ve been…fornicating with them.” He said with an air of distaste.
Face dropping as your tears increased.
Vern’s hand darting out to grab you.
Red lights flashing all over the compound. Vern rushing over to the wall to grab a collar and cuffs. While you weren’t the turtles, you were no slouch. Even in your weakened state, Vern wasn’t willing to take a risk.
The neck clamp closing silently around your neck. Spike’s gently pricking the skin. A necklace of red pearls your only garb.
A sob of relief when your arms were released from the shackles. Your hands clamped together with enough force to contain Leonardo’s strength. *Leo.*
The psychotic little prick taking the leather leash. Your mind slowly coming back together at the new surrounding. The sight of the city outside forcing a deep breath and a new line of pearls. Your ankle apparently only strained. A small blessing.
“Come now my precious pet we wouldn’t want to miss our exit.” Gunfire in the distance below forcing a quicker pace. A kindling of hope sparking to life in your chest.
“Find me.” You breathed out. A whispered spell with all the will you retained behind it.
Upon reaching the roof, fear began to tarnish and suffocate your hopes. Shoulder’s gently drooping.
Your walk purposefully slowing, exaggerating your ankle injury.
“Quickly!” Vern screamed back at you. His calm veneer cracking. His eye’s darting as a thin sheen of sweat broke out over his face. The collar of his suit tinged with the salty product.
Bodi forcing you to walk faster lest you lose your neck to the spikes.
“Y/N walk!” Vern yelled. The psycho looking behind him every moment. His eye’s darting to the mark’s marring your skin. When you reached the helicopter, you hesitated. Body freezing as panic riddled your blood.
*They have to make it!*
“LEO! RAPHAEL!!!!” There names a blood-curdling scream. A final effort.
Vern jerking you upward, a spike puncturing an inch into your skin. An inhuman strength to Vern’s grip.
The helicopter ascending above the building at a rapid rate. The wind emanating from the blades violent.
The sight of 2 green figure’s bursting through to the roof, exhilarating. The door flying off its hinges and over the side.
“Fire!” Vern yelled at the pilots. The helicopter swinging around rapidly causing all inside to be thrown. The sadistic fucker losing his grip on the leash when he slammed head first into the wall. A crimson smear stark against the matte black walls.
Shot’s reigning down until a massive metal disk hit a blade from below. The helicopter landing haphazardly on the roof. Your body falling from the craft into a roll.
The building becoming a blur. Strong sedatives from the multiple needles, on the collar, permeating your body.
The sound of steel clanging and heavy footsteps approaching…..
************** After your body had stopped rolling, Raph sprinted over to you. Raphael crying tears of shame and frustration.
He had promised to protect you. The glue that kept half his family together. Arguments had become less threatening and hurtful. Raphael could manage his emotions better. Leo was taking more time to explore his feelings. You were their perfect balance. Now…..
Bruises and chafing covered your wrists, some area’s rubbed raw. All the lacerations in various states of healing peppering your naked body. Finally, his eye’s landing on the metal collar, a blind rage taking over him. Raph’s whole burly body shaking.
His finger rending the offensive metal from your throat. Arm’s bulging while he tore it into pieces. The offending metal dropping in fragments to the gravel-covered roof.
Breathing ragged, reluctantly turning his gaze back to your prone form. The blood crusting around your neck heartbreaking. Crouching down he gently lifted you to his chest. Leo’s athletic form stalking over to where Raph stood.
Leo averting his gaze. His jaw clenched together at the sight of you, failure.
A slow and solemn procession as they made their way down to the truck. Mikey waiting on the bottom floor.
“We did….it.” Michelangelo’s usual spritely grin falling away. Arm’s hanging limply at his side. His shorter frame falling into line with the procession.
Upon reaching the truck, Donnie’s eye’s were teary, his breath a rasping rattle in his chest. Donnie turning to the driver’s window, he started the vehicle. The back of his hand periodically wiping away his tears.
Your eye’s blinking open slowly, sleep falling away. The fan overhead creating a cool breeze. Memories of soft sand and cool breezes invading your mind. The sight of Raph’s handmade blanket’s over your naked body bringing a smile to your lips. Your finger’s trailing the knitted pattern of Leo’s Lion and Raphael’s Bull. Elbow’s slowly pushing you to a seated position.
“Y/N!” Leo exclaimed while Raphael rushed forward.
Raphael’s knees on the bed, while he gave you a blinding smile. Leo’s palm stroking your hair. His breath slow and even in the face of overwhelming emotion.
“Home.” Tear’s streaming down the corner of your eye’s. “I’m Home.”
Leo and Raphael catering to you for the next week. Bringing you food, administering sponge baths. Anything your heart might need or desire.
“Raphael I can walk to the bathroom. Donatello’s new mutagen serum worked wonder’s on my physical injuries.” Your hand cupping his cheek gently.The differing textures of scaley and soft something you adored.
“Yeah, but my princess ain’t walkin.” His tender yet stubborn side peeking through.
“Raphy.” You whispered, lips placing a warm and loving kiss to the bridge of his nose.
“Princess.” His eye’s tearing at a tenderness he feared he would never feel again. Arm’s tightening slightly at the fear.
The steam from the shower head already circulating throughout the room. Mist hiding the finer detail of yellow flowers and dark green turtles on the borders.
*Leos, so thoughtful when he wants to be.*
Raphael only placing your feet on the ground long enough to peel back your robe and his pants. His hulking figure carrying you under the hot stream of water. Rivets of water streaming down your back. A smile breaking out as tender muscle’s relaxed.
Raph’s thick tongue sneaking out to lavish attention on your breast. His slowly warming plastron making you shiver. A small whimper escaping your lips at the sensation play between water and Raph.
Raphael’s mouth trailing over to your neglected breast. His hands cupping your ass, thick nails scouring your skin.
“Raph take me. I need to be your’s again.” The look meeting his emerald eye’s desperate and needy.
Raphael rubbing himself against your folds in slow but firm strokes. His eye’s looking for any chance that you might need to wait.
Noticing his concerned glances, you leaned against his forehead.
“I love you, Raphael.” All the love you could muster pouring out. A delicate kiss to his snout the perfect punctuation.
His grip loosening while you slid down his thick girth. Each inch disappearing
Your head falling back while you rode his cock. A look of utter joy breaking over your features as you came close to climax.
Raph’s gaze falling on the closet that you had found for them. The towels were neatly stacked to the side, a crack in the doors. He smiled knowingly.
“I’ma thinkin we have an audience.” Raphael’s voice grumbled. “Maybe we oughta give him a show?”
Raphael spanking you with an open handed smack. The water adding an extra sting.
Leo’s eye’s closing while he stroked his cock slowly. His fist twisting below the head, then a long stroke down over the thick vein running under his cock. . Firm hands keeping up the rhythm, his eye’s glued onto you. Lush breast bouncing while Raph’s massive girth slid inside you. His generous endowment making short work of your composure.
“Raph need to come.” At that comment, he placed you against the wall his hips thrusting short and deep.
“Raph there! Please? Fuuuuuck” Your walls quivering at the friction. Lips mulling together while you tried to keep your yelling to a minimum.
Nail’s digging into his beefy shoulder’s. Mouth limply hanging open in a strangled cry as eye’s squeezed tightly shut. Your walls clamping down on him in a rush of dopamine and oxytocin.
“Yeh, that’s my girl.” Raph encouraged with a few more pump’s extending the life of your orgasm.
“Leo *breathe* closet.*breath*” You mumbled leaning against the cool bathroom wall.
“Leo get yer ass outta there.” Raphael grumbled his bicep bulging while he leaned over you.
The blue-eyed leader wandering out of the closet. His eye’s downcast toward his erection, his shame evident. Athletic build coming to stand at his full height just feet away.
Your hand motioning for him to join you both.
(E/C) eye’s meeting his royal blue while he walked closer. Raphael’s lips working over your neck while his thumb rolled your clit roughly. Your whimper’s fueling Leonardo towards you.
Raph moving to pull you into his chest instinctively. His hands lifting you by your thigh’s in an upward arch. When Leo put his hands on your waist you grasped his finger’s.
Leo’s erection grinding against your ass. His teeth biting against your shoulder until he maneuvered you away from Raph.
The blue eyed leader opening with a searing kiss. Your toes curling while his tongue curled around yours. The appendage massaging its way around your mouth. Simultaneous stimulation from Raphael’s hand’s cupping your breast’s. His calloused palms working your buds into rubies.
Leo’s cock slipping into your slick cavern. Each stroke fueling your orgasm. Hhs bulbous head sliding past your fold’s only to push back inside. Leo changing his angle to caress your secret garden. The final piece of resistance fallen to ruin.
A strangled scream leaving your lips. Leo not far behind, muscle’s contracting around you in a scaly yet smooth wall. Raphael’s plastron brushing your back while he easily kept Leo on his feet.
“Thank you for coming for me.“ Resting your forehead against Leo’s neck, you couldn’t help the tears.
Being in between your two alpha’s made you feel whole and safe. Even with the memories forever ingrained in your mind, there was hope.
Hope for new memories and experiences, love and laughter, with the addition of the serum: children.
They would be your reason to recover. To forge ahead even when your strength was gone.
Year number two: Let’s dive into the shippers’ moments that colored the year of The Dark Knight, a presidential election, a tanked economy, and apple bottom jeans + boots with the fur.
#5. SHELDON HUGS PENNY
The Big Bang Theory’s Shenny was mostly popular in it’s early seasons, as later seasons introduced new pairings. One of the best Shenny moments was in this Season 2 Christmas episode, ‘The Bath Gift Item Hypothesis.” Sheldon Cooper (at least back then) was socially awkward, disinterested in romance, and bad at expressing affection. In this episode, however, he shows off his capacity to at lease express some affection when Penny gives him a napkin signed by (and wiped by) Leonard Nimoy as a Christmas present. This pretty famous moment is a lot of fun for Shenny shippers, since there’s something so sweet about the usually caustic Sheldon being given the perfect gift by the disinterested-in-geek-culture Penny. Like taking two extremes of fire and ice and somehow getting something just right in the middle.
#4 “THESE TWO BRAVE LOVERS”
Another South Park Kyman moment for me, in the episode where Cartman gives Kyle AIDS, and everyone believes they’re a gay couple because it really sounds that way in context. Yeah, Kyman is a dark ship. We all have one. So what actually happens is: Cartman finds out he has AIDS, and since Cartman is a sociopathic monster who has wrecked countless havoc on the lives of others, Kyle can’t help but laugh. This incenses Cartman, who infects Kyle with the virus (shippy moment: he admits that he sneaks into Kyle’s room all the time), and thus the two have to work together to find the cure (which of course they do). Incredibly, Cartman can’t understand why Kyle is so mad at him, and even tries holding his hand. And then we get them being mistaken for gay all over the place by everyone. Since how else would they both have AIDS? (Yeah, this one’s dark and offensive. What else would you expect from South Park?)
#3. IRON MAN CREATES THE MCU AND TONY/PEPPER
While Tony/Pepper isn’t my OTP, there’s no denying RDJ and Gwyneth Paltrow’s chemistry, especially in this, the first installment of the sprawling Marvel Cinematic Universe. The first of many shipping moments to come: The dance scene. The MCU in general has mostly spawned legions of slashfics, hero/villain pair-ups, and general love for the non-canon. However, there is still one canon pair that people tend to enjoy, both critics and shipping fans alike, and that is Pepperony. I can easily rank this scene as a very well-done romantic moment, in a movie full of action and character development. Take not, big-budget chaotic action films the world over: your caustic hero’s eyes lighting up when he sees his beleaguered assistant in the dress he picked out for her, leading her to the dance floor while piano plays? That’s how it’s done.
#2. KATAANG HAPPENS IN ATLA’S FINALE
And the ATLA shipping wars were definitively shut down (for the moment, anyway) with this grand finale, where Kataang and Maiko reigned supreme with two awesome kisses and sweeping music. Although the finale also has plenty for Zukaang and Zutara shippers too…really, just a shipFest all around. Basically, Avatar has become the legendary fighting ground to which you can point out all aspects of shipwars for the newcomer: fan preferred pairing, slash pairing, ship wars, crack pairings, etc. However, who would end up with whom was up in the air until the series finale, and the huge wait between episodes meant that shippers were going at each other, left and right, night and day, with reasons why their ship was the one meant to be. And then the finale ended on a big damn kiss between Aang and Katara. Good? Bad? You make your own call.
#1. BARNEY LOVES ROBIN
The moment all Swarkles fans were waiting for. First: the hookup in Sandcastles in the Sand. Second: the end of “Miracles”, the Season 3 finale. Third: The premier of Season 4, where Barney outright tells Lily he’s in love with Robin. Be still our shipping hearts, the HIMYM OTP FINALLY happened. For context: although the first three seasons of How I Met Your Mother mostly focused on Robin’s doomed to fail romance with Ted, with Banrey as the whackiest of the three whacky sidekicks, season 1′s episode Zip Zip Zip launched the ship that came to be known as Swarkles, after Robin’s teen pop star name Robin Sparkles and Barney’s one-time nickname Swarley. But the chemistry wasn’t explored until the end of Season 3, and was kept as unresolved all the way through Season 4. Still, 2008 was the year that it happened, and it was about damn time.
Caustic lighting i.e. light reflected off a curved surface, is used to indirectly illuminate subjects when filming. Cinematographers use water, glass, plastic and crystal surfaces to render such reflections.
In IPKKND for example, light reflected from Arnav’s pool is often used as secondary lighting. We notice this type of lighting in scenes where Arnav & Khushi (almost) kiss. Firstly, it brings an interesting dynamic to scenes; it distorts the frame and adds a soft glow around them. Additionally, because this type of lighting is so subtle, it preserves the intimacy of the scene and further accentuates their closeness.
Dipper scraped out the last patch of dirt. His toes ripped through roots and dug up mealy earth, damp and riddled with pill bugs. He screwed in the last of five candles and lit it with the quick flick of a match.
With a mulchy stick he dragged a pentagram through the forest floor. His small footsteps beat a dreary, smothered rhythm. His breath hitched. His palms sweat.
The stick was thrust aside in agitation. It clattered off into the underbrush, vanishing. Dipper cracked his journal open, swallowed, and read. “Hic ego voco hoc daemon. Oblationem sufficit. Opus magnum vocat vos.”
Dipper shut the book, and his eyes, as a howling wind extinguished all five candles. The ghost of their light lingered, blue and deathly cold. Bushes rustled with the frantic scattering of creatures. The mulchy earth below stunk suddenly of fire, tar, and gasoline.
Dipper stumbled out of the summoning circle as its center started to cave. A murky black substance pooled at the depression, taking form, sparking orange, and producing the demon in one spurt of caustic light.
“Check out the lips on you, kid. It’s been a good two-thousand years since someone wooed me like that. I’m touched!” Bill blinked, now the dominant source of light, and inspected his quaking summoner. “What’s it this time? Looking to give up your body again, or would you rather I humiliate you some other way?”
“Y-you won’t get the chance this time, Bill. I read the journal! I know your games.”
Bill threw his arms out and laughed. Violent gusts of wind thrummed with each syllable he spoke. “Ha! Then you know I’m not bound by contract rules. I lie, kid. Demons lie.”
“I know that. I-I know all of that!” Dipper asserted. He held tightly to his hat, wind tearing at the brim. “You don’t have to follow through on a contract, I get it. But you’re still bound by demon etiquette.”
The wind stopped.
“Haha, what?” Bill stared down at Dipper, unblinking.
“Summonings, as in.” Dipper flipped through the journal, pages rustling and folding. “This ritual summons you, and you have to hear me out.”
And none of them had died naturally. Not with wilting petals,
browning leaves, and frost crystals crawling in spider webs through their stems.
These had been killed into a field of dolls with Richter’s ink drying in their
infected veins and their petals stiffening into plastic. The moisture had been
wrung from their bodies. Their leaves had been tattooed with poisonous tracks
of black. Their roots had died into waxy, burrowing pedestals. They made for
sad company, even if they’d died beautiful.
Richter had emptied out his lab’s store of paper. A column of
off-white parchment sat just outside the throne room now, stacked as tall as
Richter stood. He took a few sheets at a time into the garden, a pen as well,
and followed the slow progression of notes he’d created across the ground,
across the walls, across the flowers. He’d filled quite nearly a hundred pages
in the hours that had passed, covering perhaps a tenth of the total room.
The ground and walls—they were easy. Ink ran over stone etchings and mulchy
slates; Richter could copy those readings over with ease. But the flowers
were…different. They were difficult in death. On carnations, the writing
spiraled inward with the natural twirl of the petals. There was no staggering
to the words, no gaps. They spun to the centers like water down a funnel. On
the violets, the words read themselves out in lines. Each petal acted as a page
in a book, stringing one to the next. These curled outward, peeled and shorn,
by the weight of the ink. The hyacinths were complicated; words twisted in
serpentine down their Christmas-bauble petals.
The asters though—Richter liked those. Each petal was distinct, thin
and long, sporting a single line of text. Richter plucked them one at a time,
reading, copying, discarding. Their petals blanketed the ground in his wake,
leaving naked bright stamen jutting from their stems. They were dead anyway; it
wasn’t as if keeping their petals changed that fact. They’d have died soon too,
as autumn edged toward cold, toward frost. It was the nature of flowers to die.
There would always be more.