#Platonic big sister

[freellamabeliever]

(ALICIA ZDINARSK A.K.A. Z-DOG LIVES IN A DARK WORLD. SO SHE WILL BE DAMNED IF ANYONE TRIES TO TAKE AWAY HER ONLY BRIGHT LIGHT. AFTER ALL A BIG SISTER HAS TO PROTECT HER LITTLE HUMAN SISTER)

Natalie Portman as Mary Zdinarsk.

(Z-Dog's POV)

I was talking to my little sister Mary and smiled. I can't believe it's been fifteen years since I last saw her. Last time I saw her she was thirteen and now she is a twenty eight year old woman.

"I can't believe you actually stayed with the RDA Mary."

"Well someone had to make sure Avatar was growing healthy. And as your sister that responsibility was mine. Plus I am the best female mechanic and tech nerd here. I enjoyed making sure my big sister was healthy."

"Your arm still hurting Mary?"

Mary looked down at her bruised up arm and her smile dropped. My blood began to boil as I remembered finding out about her abusive ex boyfriend. I hugged her tightly in my arms and slightly picked her up. She smiled up at me.

"Well Marcus is not a probation anymore as he is in solitary confinement until he is sent back to that dying planet. And I want to thank you for not threatening to kill him. You didn't act on your impulsive thoughts this time."

I scoffed.

"I am not that over-protective Mary."

"Alicia you once put a man into a coma for hugging me."

"Point proven."

"Okay now put me down."

We both laughed.

-An hour later-

I was walking to a room where only I knew. No one knew about this room not even the RDA. I opened the door and walked into the room and locked the door tightly. I then faced the bloodied and bruised man tied to a chair. He looked up at me and paled even whiter than he already was. Fear was written all over his face as I sat in front of him. I ripped the duck tape off his mouth as he let out a shaky breath.

"Please let me go. I won't tell anyone I promise."

I chuckled sinisterly at him.

"Now why would I do that. You hurt someone who is special to me out of your own freewill. Now give me one good reason I shouldn't end you right now."

I place the tip of my knife on his throat. I smiled sinisterly and chuckled darkly. He didn't speak because he couldn't give me an answer. I stood up and stared down at him.

"What cat got your tongue? Or is it the fact that you think you can escape and tell everyone what happened. But believe me when I leave this room you'll be a skeleton before anyone will even stumble upon this room. By then it will be too late and no one will be able to Identify you."

I cut Marcus free from his bindings and watched as he tried to make an escape. He couldn't even make it to the door before he collapsed from weakness. I walked up to him and grabbed him by his throat and lifted him in the air. He tried to make a scream for help before I threw him against the wall. I crouched down to his level and smirked.

"These walls are sound proof. So good luck."

He kept whimpering and looking just pathetic. I gripped my knife and brought it close to his neck.

"I am going to teach you a lesson on what happens when people hurt the ones I love."

It was night and everyone was sleeping. When I was through with Marcus I cleaned up and got rid of the evidence. When I finally reached the room I shared with my little sister I smiled as I saw my little sister asleep on her bed. I closed and locked the door. I walked over to my little sister and smiled. I kissed her forehead gently before whispering in her ear.

"Don't worry baby sister I will always protect you. After all isn't that a big sister's job."

I lay down next to her holding her in my arms and made sure to mentally promise to never leave her again.

[ubububububusgoround]

my only sunshine

..! /(˶⁠°⌓⁠°)⊂⁠(⁠･⁠ω⁠･*⊂⁠) ∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° ～☆

[ak319]

Dark Arthur Morgan x sis reader

(!!WARNINGS: Abuse, misogyny , possessiveness, restrictions.) +Arthur is in his 20's here

"And what about this question, ma'am?" you asked, leaning over Mrs. Anne, your teacher. She ran a small homeschool for girls and Montessori for kids with some of the little kids being your friends' siblings. It was such a cozy, safe environment for studying. Classes started in the afternoon, around 4:30 p.m., and went on until the evening, usually wrapping up by 7 or 8.

You lived in Strawberry with your dad, Lyle, and your older brother, Arthur Morgan. Your dad had changed a lot after your mother's death, becoming an alcoholic and often disappearing for days. Arthur, on the other hand--he was your shield, making you feel both protected and suffocated at the same time. Since your father was usually too lost in his own world or away from home, he didn’t bother you much, only occasionally checking in as if to remind you he was still your father. Meh.

But Arthur--he took his role far too seriously. In fact, he thought he should take on both his and your father’s duties. That’s why you had to ask--or rather, beg--him to let you attend Mrs. Anne's classes when you first heard about them from Isla, your friend who had shown you the poster.

Strawberry wasn’t that big of a town, and after verifying everything about Mrs. Anne, Arthur finally agreed--thankfully. But only on the condition that he would pick you up and drop you off himself. He used to be caring, but not like this. Your mother’s death had changed the two men in the house in completely opposite ways. One stopped caring altogether, while the other became overbearing. And you were just trying to survive, making the best of it.

The urge to run away with your friends felt all too real sometimes. But then you’d think what would Arthur might do if he ever found you? That’s where all your plans would fall apart. You had also learned, through Arthur, that neither he nor your father were earning their money honestly. He tried to keep it from you at first, but eventually told you when you were old enough. You had your suspicions anyway--his words were just confirmation.

Today was like any other day. Arthur had dropped you off outside Mrs. Anne's house as usual. But by 7:30, the weather took a sudden turn--it started raining heavily out of nowhere. It had been a bit windy earlier, but there was no sign of rain. Yet here it was, pouring down. Time passed, and it was now 8:10 p.m., but your idiot of a brother still hadn't shown up to pick you up. You were feeling awkward staying at your teacher's home, despite Mrs. Anne and her husband being the sweetest people. You’d already had two cups of hot chocolate with your friend, Isla, and didn’t want to impose any further.

"(Y/N), he might not come with this heavy rain. We could walk to your house together--it’s not that far," Isla suggested, whispering. It was just the two of us left, as most of the girls had gone home earlier. You both had work to finish, but even if you’d finished sooner, you couldn’t leave without Arthur. Going home without him wasn’t the first option.

"But what if he comes here after we leave?"

Isla groaned. "Mrs. Anne will tell him that we headed to your place. Look at me--my house is even further than yours, what the hell would I do-- oh my God! I can just stay at yours tonight! I already told my mother that if it rains, I might stay over at yours. Let’s just go!."

She had a point. Maybe Arthur was out doing--well, you didn’t even want to think about it. After taking leave from Mrs. Anne, the two of you dashed to your house with the umbrellas she had given you.

Once you reached the small, humble abode, you both headed to your room with the food you had prepared earlier, settling in to chat and relax while enjoying the soothing sound of the rain.

"Where are your dad and brother?" Isla asked.

You shrugged. "I mean--Dad being absent is normal, but Arthur is usually home by now. I’m kind of worried."

"Seriously, (Y/N)? I’d be happy to have the house to myself for a change. Not to mention, some space. He’s--kind of scary, isn’t he?"

"Scary? Well, yeah, sometimes. But trust me, he’s nice and caring. More than Dad could ever be. It does get a bit too much at times, though."

"Mhm. And it’s kind of messed up, isn’t it? The work they do. Both of them." Isla was the only friend you’d confided in about your family, and that was only because she had once seen Arthur with Dutch, a shady con man who often visited Strawberry or rather his boss. You hated Dutch despite never meeting him. He's the reason your brother is now on the same path as your dad.

"What can I do about it? I’ve tried talking to him, but he always shuts me out--" Your eyes caught a glimpse of a paper sticking out of the side pocket of your bag. "Wait, what’s that?"

You pulled out the paper, and both you and Isla began reading it. It was some kind of confession addressed to Mavis, another girl in your class. You couldn’t figure out who wrote it or why it was in your bag. The writer had only signed with an initial: A.

"Oh! Wait, wait, wait! It must be Amell. I saw him whispering to a kid outside from the window. He must be the one who gave this to him to put in Mavis’s bag."

"Amell who? And how did this end up in my bag?" you asked, confusion evident on your face as you looked back at the note.

Isla leaned back against the headboard, stretching her limbs with a relaxed sigh. "Amell is Mrs. Anne’s son. I’ve seen him talking to Mavis before. You and Mavis were sitting together today, and you both have the same colored bags. The kid must’ve gotten confused."

“Is the kid we’re talking about, Anders? He’s so dumb,” you said, shaking your head with a soft chuckle. “Anyway, don’t let me forget to hand this to Mavis tomorrow.”

Suddenly, the door to your room burst open, and Arthur stormed in.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his sudden intrusion. "Um... hi?" you said, your tone a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

Isla straightened up, her eyes quickly avoiding Arthur’s gaze, as she gave a hesitant but polite greeting as well.

"How did you get home?" Arthur's voice was cold, cutting through the room.

"Isla and I came together. Where were you, though?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual despite the tension.

Arthur’s gaze shifted to Isla. "Isla, the rain has stopped. You should go home. Your family must be waiting."

Isla looked at you, confusion clear on her face. "She’s staying becau-"

"Not today," Arthur interrupted firmly.

"Why not? Are you going to tell me where you were?" you shot back, frustration creeping into your voice.

"Y/N, I--I’ll see you tomorrow."

You let Isla leave, your irritation with Arthur growing. You wanted to talk openly without making Isla uncomfortable in the middle of the family drama. As you moved to escort her to the front door, Arthur abruptly blocked your path. "Stay here," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

You sighed and sank back onto the bed, shoving the letter--which was still in your hand--back into your bag. Arthur stormed back in and slammed the door a bit too hard.

"What’s gotten into you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm despite the frustration bubbling up inside.

Arthur’s eyes were cold, his jaw set. "What did I tell you about coming home alone?" His irritation was palpable, fixated on the condition he had imposed.

"Well, what was I supposed to do, stay there? It’s 9 p.m.! Where were you?" Your words seemed to only fuel his anger, rather than penetrate his stubbornness.

Arthur’s gaze hardened. "I’ve noticed your tone changing recently, ever since you started going there. What exactly are they teaching you at that place, huh?"

"Basic knowledge. Like not overstaying your welcome at someone’s house when you can walk home," you retorted, trying to keep your tone steady despite your rising frustration.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed further as he took a few steps closer. "Is that so?" His voice was low, dangerously calm. "Well, our dear father got arrested, so I was at the sheriff's. And as for ‘basic knowledge,’" he said, grabbing your bag and dumping its contents onto the floor.

"HEY! My books!!" you exclaimed, a mix of shock and anger in your voice.

"Mhm, what might this be?" Arthur’s attention was fixed on the letter he had seen earlier. He picked it up and read it, his expression darkening as his suspicions were confirmed. "A confession, hmm? An A? This is what you two were gigglin' about earlier?" he murmured, crumpling the letter in his fist, his gaze still locked on it. You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your composure.

"A for… Amell, her son, right?" Arthur’s tone was icy, his eyes boring into you as he processed the revelation.

"What even--- That wasn’t for me! It was for Mavis! Have you forgotten to read?!" you protested, trying to defend yourself. He scoffed at your reply, eyes twinkling with amusement. "So Mavis is your codename?"

"Are you serious?"

Arthur’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Did he drop you both home, or just you alone? Huh?" His fists clenched tightly, and you could see the anger boiling beneath his calm exterior. Arthur's boots struck the floor with a deliberate, menacing rhythm.

"What are you on about, Arthur? You know that’s not true! A kid put it in my bag. Look, it’s not mine. You can ask Isla."

Arthur’s gaze hardened even further. "Why should I ask her? Hm? She’s your partner in crime, isn’t she? And it’s not like you’re going to see her again."

"W-what? What does that mean?!" you stammered, panic rising in your voice. But nothing could have prepared you for the next moment. Your hands were now on his as he gripped your jaw, your body instinctively going stiff, the fear evident in your eyes. This was the first time he had raised his hands to you in such a threatening manner.

"Yes, no more Isla and no more of that whorehouse you go to. You’ve studied enough. I’ve been too lenient with you." A pained whimper escaped your lips as his gloved fingers dug into your jaw.

"N-no-don’t do that! Why are you not believing me, Arthur?!" you pleaded, your voice breaking. He shoved you by your jaw, sending you crashing to the floor. Your head narrowly missed hitting the bed’s edge.

"If you utter one more word or try to set a foot outside until I say so, especially to that school of yours, I WILL BREAK YOUR FUCKING LEGS!"

His heavy breathing was the only sound you could hear as you stared at the floor, your vision blurred by tears and chest tight with fear and anxiety. He can easily break you in two if he wants to right now, even Isla's gone. "I am here, working these jobs to keep a roof over your head while that fool has clearly given up, and you’re here, frolicking with your lovers! Learning to write fucking love letters." He stood over you, his anger uncontrollable, and grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to lift your head slightly.

"You’ve enjoyed yourself enough. Now stay at the fucking house and make it a home, like Mother did, like you are supposed to do. And I’m dead serious when I say you don’t want me seeing you going near that house or interacting with those little friends of yours, got it? Because I have eyes and ears everywhere." His words were a chilling threat, leaving you too stunned to fully grasp their meaning.

"DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!" he demanded, his voice thunderous. He yanked your hair with a brutal force, his actions cold and devoid of the care he once showed you. This was the same brother who used to be so kind, now revealing his true, harsh colors over a simple misunderstanding.

"K-kay," you managed to choke out, nodding with tears streaming down your face. He released you with a rough shove.

"Get up and heat the food. I’m going to freshen up." And just like that, he left, leaving you alone in the oppressive silence. Your books lay scattered around you, their presence a painful reminder of a future now out of reach, as you were left enveloped in a cloud of despair.

Part II

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

hate that I have to clarify whenever I think of two characters as having a powerful and purely platonic bond as "just friends". like I have to say that but they are not "just" anything.

did you hear me. I said they are friends. not brothers or siblings or maternal or paternal or any other familially-defined relationship. they are friends!!! do you know how powerful that is??? they! are! friends!!! they are FRIENDS

[clairewritesjjkxreader]

Sukuna's Wife and Yuuji's Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) Part 2

Part 1

Several hundred years ago…

You adored autumn more than any other season. Leaves drying, flowers falling to the ground–you felt most alive surrounded by death.

“The leaves remind me of your hair,” you said to him, holding up a red maple leaf. 

“You did not just compare me to a dead leaf.” He watched with crossed arms as you fiddled with the leaf before letting go. 

“It’s a compliment. Though…I guess the maple is prettier,” you teased him. The rubiness of autumn maple was rich and with a charm incomparable to any flower.

He huffed.

You laughed a bit, though your giggles were covered up with coughing.

He strolled closer, wrapping a scarf around your neck, his large hands careful not to pull on your hair. “You love autumn but can barely stand the cold.”

You snuggled closer to his side, placing your ear close to his heart. “Then it’s a good thing I married you.”

***

Present day.

Yuuji was the single most precious person to you. He and old man Wasuke were more your family than the actual people who made you. When the toddler first grasped your finger, tightly and warmly, you swore that nothing else mattered in the world.

As the days passed and that little crybaby grew up into a taller crybaby, your sentiments only got stronger.

No one cared, no one mattered, not even yourself.

If anyone deserved to live a long, happy life, it was your sweet, salt of the earth Yuuji. 

That’s why, after the man called Gojo explained everything: from curses and cursed energy to Yuuji’s fate after eating one of Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers, you found yourself getting down on both knees and laying your nose on the ground.

“Please,” you begged, “please spare Yuuji. If you need another host, then transfer Sukuna inside me and take me instead, but leave my brother alone.”

All three men were stunned.

Fushiguro reluctantly opened his mouth, “H-hey–”

“Nee-chan, get up.” Yuuji went to grab your shoulders, but he was taken aback when Gojo knelt down in front of you. 

He hummed, before asking, “You sure are a good sister. You realize that you’re basically asking us to kill you?”

You said nothing as you kept your forehead on the ground.

“So that’s your answer.” Gojo crossed his arms and pretended to think.

“Darling.” Sukuna appeared on Yuuji’s cheek. He growled, “Get up. You shouldn’t be prostrating yourself in front of these scum.” 

Gojo snapped his fingers. “Leave it to me, Y/N-chan!”

“Hey!” “Oy!”

Fushiguro and Sukuna chorused, “You’re not really dragging her into this, are you?” “You damn sorcerer, don’t you dare call her so intimately. Only I can–”

“Raise your head, Y/N-chan.” Gojo chuckled. “I’ll take care of you and Yuuji.”

Despite everything, Gojo needed to be sure of Itadori’s potential as a vessel, so he knocked the boy out and did the same to you before you could try to hit him. 

“You’re not really thinking of using that woman as a vessel, right?” Megumi watched as his teacher held you in his arms. “And how do you even plan on transferring Sukuna into her?”

“Tell me, Megumi, do you want Itadori-kun to live?”

“Of course, I do.”

“How about his darling nee-chan?”

“Yes, but–”

“Sukuna cannot be trusted, but if he really does care for this girl then we can use that to our advantage, don’t you agree?”

Megumi couldn’t protest. He didn’t like the idea of getting civilians involved, but if he had to choose between two people and the rest of the world, then the answer was obvious.

The day Old Man Wasuke was hospitalized, you already took a leave of absence from college. Quitting your part time jobs and packing up your belongings took less than a day, and cutting ties with the rest of the world you knew was easy. You had no warmth for your colleagues, or your classmates, or the lonely old house you grew up in. 

Sukuna was surprisingly quiet the whole ride to the high school, but when Satoru Gojo started flirting with you, an eye and mouth would open up on Yuuji’s cheek and demand he stay away from you. 

“How dare you lay your filthy hand on my beloved–”

“You mad? What’re you gonna do from waaaay over there?” (You seriously started to worry about your brother’s safety while being protected by this moron.)

Yuuji was placed next to Megumi Fushiguro (a polite but reserved boy, you noted) while you were put in the girl’s dormitory, which was practically empty. Sukuna was vocal about “being left behind,” but Gojo was adamant about separating the boys from the girls like the rules state. 

Lies, Megumi thought to himself. He just wants to piss off Sukuna. That and it was for your own safety. Though the King of Curses seemed attached to you, he was still a curse, and his attitude could’ve been a mask. 

You were used to being alone so living without a roommate or “friends” in a large building was no big deal. Once you were settled in, you returned to Yuuji’s dormitory, but when you found him unconscious and tied to a chair by talismans, you threw a shoe at Gojo without thinking.

“Why are you so violent?” Gojo complained as your shoe bounced off his infinity. 

“You said you would protect him!”

“Calm down,” Fushiguro said from behind you. “Please, Gojo-sensei may look and act like that–”

“–oi, what do you mean by ‘that’–”

“–but I promise you, he’s doing this for everybody’s benefit.”

“...You’re lying.” 

Fushiguro’s blood froze as you gazed into his eyes. He has never felt such intense blood lust from a single human before.

“You’re not doing this for my baby’s sake… you’re lying… you’re tricking us…” Your voice dripped with ice, your stare glazed over. 

Fushiguro was speechless. Something told him you weren’t talking about just Yuuji right now. 

“Give him back to me.” You gripped Fushiguro’s arms. “GIVE MY CHILD BACK!”

Fushiguro was at a loss, though your nails dug into him, he couldn’t bring himself to summon his familiars or push you away. You were a bit violent, but he saw Tsumiki in you. 

Wait, did she just say child?

@laurcad123 @aidanstan @deepinballs

Part 3

A/N:

I'm getting way too lazy to write full fledged prose.

Anyway, I love soft sukuna.

Also, med school is murder T.T

[ericityyy]

Hey hello hi hey!

I would like to request a Young Sheldon fluff with Sheldon & Y/N. Strictly platonic cuz Y/N is a lot older lawl, with the trope being cool big sis (though not related)

The setting is mostly in the collage library, Sheldon and Y/N meeting there and bonding over shared interests, kinda like he and Tam.

Thanks! Love your works!

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘚𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 “𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳”

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘊𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘉𝘪𝘨 𝘚𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 988

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦

It is not uncommon for people to underestimate my abilities because of my age and height. Sheldon reminisces back when a few jocks were making fun of him and then putting him inside an open locker. They always think that they can steal my class standing. I can't help it if I'm smarter than them; maybe that's why they try to bring down my spirit.

The little boy called out for anyone to let him out before letting out a sigh, deciding to wait instead of wasting his breath. He's lucky enough that he's locked in his own locker, not others who know what they put in their own space. Sheldon shuddered at the thought.

When the footsteps came closer, he called out for help again by knocking on the metal door twice. "Hello? Excuse me, could you please open up my locker for me?"

The person outside jumped slightly from the sudden noise, gasping before she rushed to the locker door and opened it as quickly as possible, "Sheldon? How? Why are you inside the locker?"

"Oh, hi Y/N, some jocks were threatened by my intelligence, so they tried to put me out of the picture by not letting me get into my classes." Sheldon fixed his shirt and ensured his hair was placed correctly.

The girl raised an eyebrow at that information, her jaw clenching together, smiling at Sheldon's direction in a sickly sweet way, "Hey Shelly, can you point those 'jocks' to me now?"

"Why?" Sheldon asked suspiciously; he knows that despite being intelligent and having high grades, the girl tends to make some trouble occasionally. Giving her a free field trip to the Principal's office every time.

The teenage girl twirled a piece of her hair with her finger as she crossed her arms together, a smirk playing against her lips as a playful tune came out of her mouth, "Oh nothing, I just want to seek out the enemy is all, you know what they say. Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies chained to you."

Sheldon furrowed his eyebrows, "That's not how the saying goes."

The girl cut him off with a wave, "That's how I say it, so you're going to tell me who they are, or I'll do it myself? I could use the help of someone smart, but I guess there's no one, aye?" Y/N turned her back, smirking as she counted silently.

3… 2…

"Wait!"

Y/N laughed a little, turning to look at the boy with a fake, confused look on her face, "Yes, Shelly?"

"I'll tell you who they were."

"Well, isn't that just wonderful?"

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

"Hey!" the guys who locked Sheldon stopped their banter and turned to the voice of a smiling Y/N, "Sorry to bother this… shindig of yours. I just had some tiny question, if that's fine with y'all?"

The guy at the center sauntered towards the girl, who had her hands behind her back. "What is it, baby? Want to know my number?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Y/N dropped her smile as her eyes stared coldly at the taller guy before her, "Specifically your locker number." She then suddenly kicked the shins of the guy and made him crouch and yelp in pain before the girl grabbed a handful of his hair and punched his jaw, her rings adding to the pain on his face.

Y/N then asked the other guys, "Where is his locker?" The guys pointed at the bottom door beside her. The girl opened it with a bang and dragged the injured guy inside his own locker, where she slammed the door shut despite him not being able to fit inside.

She crouched down and whispered to him calmly, "You don't mess with my Shelly, am I understood?" The boy whimpered slightly, "I said, am I understood?" He nodded his head rapidly.

"Yes, ma'am, never again."

"Good." Y/N stood back up just in time for the Principal to come, strutting in the halls.

"Ms. L/N!"

“Ah, Principal Petersen! Wonderful to see you this time of day!"

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

"And then what happened?" Tam asked, intrigued, eating his lunch with Sheldon and Y/N in the Library.

Y/N read a book while eating her own food, "Well, he let me off with a year's detention. It's either that or suspension."

"Suspension?! What made you get out of suspension?! What did you do to ONLY get detention?" Sheldon intensely looked at the unbothered girl, reading her book while eating lunch.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

"Ms. L/N, with your record, you could have been suspended or expelled by now." Mr. Petersen looked thoughtfully at the girl in front of him, without an inkling of guilt or fear in her eyes, "That's bullying and assault. Ms. L/N, please take this seriously."

Y/N looked the Principal in the eyes. It made him nervous, to say the least. "You wouldn't suspend me, Sir. Despite my… troublesome record, I contribute to this school just as much as Sheldon Cooper does." The girl then traced every inch of the office with her eyes, "You wouldn't be in this nice office of yours if not for the funds you receive because of me and, of course, my little brother." She laughed a little, tapping her fingers on the desk separating her from the Principal, "Should I mention the bullying cases that have been ignored in this school to the public when I get suspended?"

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

Y/N briefly looked at their waiting eyes, "Oh, you know, just a couple of convincing is all."

Sheldon and Tam raised an eyebrow at her, who avoided their curious eyes. They then continued eating, not wanting to question it anymore. After all the time that Y/N spent at the Principal's office, no one would dare mess with Sheldon anymore. That's one of the perks of having a big sister who's exactly like him... kind of.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

look who’s back!!! this has been long requested. i am so sorry for taking this long to write it. like i said in my page, it’s the end of the semester and my schedule’s been hectic these past few weeks.

but i appreciate those who waited and kept supporting my works!! please do request more from this fandom and other fandoms. i might add more masterlists depending on my interests! and ofc yours (but i’m not making any promises that i will entertain it all)

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hello!

May I request platonic hc's of Rosie and a gender neutral reader who's similar to Senjuro in terms of personality? Thanks and have a good day/night!

Hehe! Awwww! Rosie is one of my fav characters. Best girl she is, to be honest. Love her! So, yes. Would be happy to write for our Cannibal Queen! I will have a great day, hope you do too! Once more, a bit short but I love it!

Rosie- Fire Lily

Now. Let’s get this right off the bat. Rosie just picked you off the streets when you dropped into Hell and landed right into her Colony. Rosie claims what she wants, no problem so she adopted you. You don’t have a choice, you are now Rosie’s little sibling and she uses her magic to make sure you look like her and her people so you better fit in

Rosie is your Kyojuro— not joking, she is

Rosie adores how sweet and helpful you are. Always cleaning and helping around her big colony as well as her own home. She didn’t even ask you to clean her floors or feed her people— oh. She doesn’t regret adopting you, she loves you so much already

Yes. Rosie threw you at Alastor when she first begun introducing you around and keeps throwing you at Alastor now so you two bond. Alastor knows you well and he often ‘babysits’ you for Rosie. Since the Radio Demon is your adoptive older sister’s bestie, it’s quite rare that you don’t see him exploring about the Colony

Rosie supports you… yes, you can’t become the next Cannibal Colony leader but you don’t need to be some mighty powerful Overlord to be worthy of love in her eyes. She loves you, as her baby sibling, the way you are and she doesn’t want you to change in any fashion; be yourself and big sis Rosie is pleased

Rosie does listen to you and your suggestions. Does she agree that she doesn’t want her people participating in the next Extermination fightback? Yes, she does. But she kinda has no choice so she comforts you and reassures you she isn’t personally even trying. She may be powerful and influential but she has little strength in that matter

Rosie needs more sweethearts like you. Kind, caring and who can usually see the best in a situation or person?! Goodness. She’s gotten a jackpot and she is quite proud of you. Her little sibling is a little angel, even in Hell and even when they came from the worst situation when alive

Eventually, more and more time you spend as Rosie’s adoptive sibling, you finally open up to her and express how bad your human life was; a dead brother to a unfortunate event, a abusive alcoholic father, a dead mother to a disease. You were upset, shaken and alone but you’re… better now

And when you tell Rosie every detail she’s been waiting to hear, she gives you much wisdom and comfort. You saw the way she helped Charlie? This woman knows what she is doing. She can handle heavy situations well and helps make you feel better, less tense and more relaxed

Rosie may be a doting loving big sister-mother to you but she does encourage you to be cannibalistic. Give you decapitated body parts as gifts, ease you into eating sinners and Hellborn demons. You’re a cannibal demon now, she wants you to be able to eat the way her people do

Rosie gives you hope all the time and she is forgiving so she will forgive you for ‘leaving such a scar on the Colony’s history’. Because, in reality, you may be her sibling but you don’t need to be her heir or her successor. You can live a nice life with her as her cute little assistant

Rosie is open and expressive with the people she loves, platonic or romantic, so she tells you almost everything and she drags you almost everywhere. She loves having you around, being able to link arms with you and dress you up in cute outfits!

Rosie is the type of big sister-mother-bestie to wear matching clothing with both you and Alastor. Suspect Rosie to give you a outfit that matches with hers, to her, it’s a symbol of her connection to you

Honestly. Rosie is raising you. Since you’re a very young sinner, maybe around 13-14 and have died a truly awful death at your father’s hands. You haven’t fully grown-up and dealt with so much so she takes charge of looking after you. Her relationship with you is primarily family-like but it’s adorable

You mean a lot to Rosie, even if she had scooped you off the streets and claimed you as hers less than four to five months ago. It doesn’t matter, she loves you and she hopes you love her back

“Oh… Leitora. That hat is adorable! Where did you find those flowers? Alasta gave them to you… oh, of course he did— nevertheless. I love it! It’s adorable! Goodness, yes! I should make it a new hat! Come with me, darling!”

[normal-internet-user]

Hi! First of all, I wanted to say that I love your blog 💕 reading your posts always cheer me up :D

So, I had an angsty thought about the big sis!reader ask, remember that part where shredder uses karai as hostage and accidentaly mutates her? How do you think things would go if reader was the one who got mutaded instead? It could be a snake or something else if you wish!

English is not my first language, but I think I made this understandable enough kdksjdk

Anyway, Have a lovely day/night 💕💕

I've actually had a few ideas about this before, just a little context, Reader is mutated into a humanoid spider.

2012 BOYS WHEN THEIR BIG SISTER GETS MUTATED

A recon mission gone wrong.

That's how you ended up dangled over a giant vat of mutagen.

The rope was tight, and you heart was pumping.

One wrong move, and your whole life would be changed.

Hell, who knew what would happen if you came in contact with that much mutagen.

You just hoped the boys would get here in time,

And then you could all go home and laugh about this over some pizza gyoza.

When your brothers ran in, you let out a silent cheer, then you started trying to gain momentum to swing yourself to one of the catwalks.

To bad you were unaware of Shredders eyes on you.

The rope was cut before you knew what was happening, and then the fear set in.

You cried out as you came in contact with the slime like substance, and one thing you never expected was the pain.

You struggled for a moment, then pulled yourself out of the vat, a searing pain coursing through your entire body while you groaned.

"(NAME)!" The collective shout of your siblings barely reached your ears as the pain flared, you felt your body reshaping itself, and it hurt.

It hurt so much.

You collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain as your skin changed to a light shade of purple,

As your jaw reshaped itself along with your teeth,

As brain rewired itself to account for the new spider like appendages sprouted from your back.

It felt like your veins were made of fire, and you didn't seem to notice when your vision changed.

You didn't feel it when one of your brothers picked you off the ground.

You continued to stew in your own agony as your entire being shifted.

You didn't feel the softness of your own bed, or the gentle hand of your father resting on your forehead.

Then as soon as it started, the pain stopped.

Your body was sore, and even attempting to open your eyes hurt.

The low, painful whines went unnoticed by you, but not your father,

"Rest, my daughter. You need rest." He whispered, stroking your hair.

Rest...

That sounded nice.

Rest...

You drifted off, unaware of the turmoil amongst your family...

Donnie sighed as he examined your new appendages, you had grown something akin to spider legs along your back, and you were now sporting two new arms along your torso.

"She'll be fine..." he said, turning to his family, "It may take a while for her to get used to this though, she had a completely new set of eyes and arms to learn how to use. Hopefully I can finish that retromutagen soon.."

You woke around 2 hours later, you blinked open your eyes, and panicked.

What happened?

Everything looked so red.

Red.

Redredred.

You tried to stand, but you felt off balance, and you fell catching yourself before you hit the ground.

The sight of two extra hands greeted you.

Your heart began to pump louder,

So loud you could hear it beating.

Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-dump-

"GUYS! KYOUDAI? OTOU-SAMA? DOKO NI IRU NO?"

You heard six pairs of feet rush to your side, but you struggled to see.

Everything was blurry and red.

"I can't see. I can't see. Otou-sama, Dōshite mienai no? D-dōshite mienai no?" your voice cracked, and Splinter pulled you into a hug.

The soft voice of April sounded through your own heavy breathing, but you didn't register, "What does that mean?"

Leo replied in a shaky tone, "She's asking why she can't see..."

"It's so loud." you whispered, "It's all so loud."

Splinter held you close, replying softly, "Hush, my dear. koko desu."

"Where are the boys?" you asked, quietly, "Are they ok? Please tell me they're ok."

Mikey whispered softly, "We're ok, Ane-chan. We're ok, I promise."

You pulled away from Splinter and shakily pulled them into your arms, and you felt tears fall onto your skin, "Naka naide kudasai. Please don't cry, kyoudai. Please..."

It took you accouple days to get used to your new body.

Your vision was your biggest problem.

You found yourself bumping and stubbling into things, and you took to just moving around as little as possible.

You cut your lip on your own teeth more than you should have, and couldn't wear any of your old clothes due to your new appendages.

April bought you some new ones with holes cut into them.

You were terrified to hug your family.

The last time you did was when you woke up, and one of your new spider arms cut Mikey's cheek,

After that, you stopped trusting yourself to touch them.

Donnie was working overtime on developing retro-mutagen, he hated seeing you so scared and lost.

All of them did.

You always knew what to do,

But not this time.

Splinter knew what you were going through,

The exact same thing happened to him,

He did his best, but you were so scared of yourself, he didn't know how to comfort you.

Mikey was the most noticably affected.

He tried so hard to help you get out of your horrible state of mind,

But you always pushed him away, scared you might accidentaly hurt him again.

Life was different,

Life was stressful, and the tone of the Lair was definitly alot less cheery.

Everyone was worried about you.

And you were so, so scared.

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

I know I said I was taking a break, but I swear I'm just finishing some drafts-

translations:

Kyoudai: Little brothers

Otou-sama: Father

Ane-chan: Big sister

Doko ni iru no: Where are you?

Koko desu: I'm here

Dōshite mienai no: Why can't I see?

Naka naide kudasai: Please don't cry

[possamble]

Going back to work after this but

[haomnyangz]

Do Hana & So Mun THE UNCANNY COUNTER S2: COUNTER PUNCH (2023)

[autisticlancemcclain]

Pidge dreams of a swamp. She wakes up hot and sweaty and miserable. She’s sticky, all over, and especially below the waist. The air smells of iron.

“Oh, fuck,” she mutters, and bursts into tears.

She knew this was coming. She’s fifteen — beyond a late bloomer, really — but some part of her hoped she would hold off on it. Forever, maybe.

Or at least until she’s with her mama again.

She drags herself upright, gagging at the feeling of wet sheets smearing on her bare legs. The smell of blood is almost overwhelming (Lance not moving behind them blasted already barely woke up blood everywhere whole room smells nothing she can do Hunk knocked out covering her six information is vital they can’t pull back nothing she can do Keith scratched to hell lightyears away Red yelling nothing she can do Allura dragged away by the Galra they’re hurting her on the way own splitting the skin nothing she can do her team her friends her family broken and hurting nothing she can do never anything she can do). She shoves her face into her knees, trying to muffle her cries, but they burst out of her, rough and raw and scared and mourning. She chokes on her own sobs, wailing, everything hitting her at once.

Panic that is not her own pushes at the back of her mind, head butting her brain.

Cub, the Green Lion says, distressed. Breathe, cub. Please.

“I want my mom,” Pidge wails. “She’s supposed to be here. She’s supposed to be here!”

I know you do. The Green Lion’s tone is gentler, this time. Less prodding, more…resigned, almost. Pained. I know, Kathleen.

Pidge’s Lion tries to placate her, flooding her brain with comfort and love, but Pidge can feel herself getting hysterical, feel her breathing getting short.

“I wanna go home, I wanna go home, I wanna go home —”

“Pidge?”

The door creaks loudly, making Pidge flinch, and faint light shines into the room. The smell of juniberries pierces through the pungent smell of blood. A soft hand rests on the back of her tangled hair, brushing through the knots.

“Oh, Katie,” Allura sighs. She slides her hand down to Pidge’s shoulder and pulls her close, squeezing her gently. Pidge goes willingly — Allura isn’t her mother, and she’s nothing like her mother, but Allura is sweet and kind and knows everything, and Pidge needs that right now.

“Just take some time, asteraki. We’ll figure it out soon.”

Pidge leans into it. Her lower stomach aches, constantly, and her eyes sting. She still feels sticky and gross. She needs to comfort. She cries until she doesn’t think she can anymore.

“Okay,” Allura says gently, God knows how long later. “Come on up, okay? Let’s go to the washroom. I’ll draw a bath.”

Pidge drags herself out of the bed, stumbling after her. Allura tests the water three times, making sure it’s perfect, and dumps in way too many bubbles. She helps Pidge out of her ruined bottoms, guiding her into the bath. She carefully rubs shampoo into Pidge’s hair, rubbing out the pain in her roots, combing out the tangles.

She says nothing for hours, just quietly helping Pidge put herself back together. She drains the bath when it goes lukewarm, laying out fresh clothes. She strips the sheets, tossing them in a random hamper, and turns over clean ones, guiding Pidge into them.

“Move over,” she says, when Pidge settles into the middle. She glances at Allura in mild surprise, too tired to summon up something more verbal, but complies. To her further surprise Allura scoots in after her, half-reclining against the headboard. She gently tugs Pidge towards her until she gets the hint, leaning against Allura’s chest, gripping her shirt. Allura’s hands slide into her hair again, twisting the wet curls.

“My mom prepared me for my period,” Pidge says quietly.

Allura hums, gesturing for Pidge to continue.

“She told me what supplies to use, what to expect. Very scientific, my mom. But it was just — I don’t know. I wanted her to be there. I wanted to talk to her about it, when it happened.”

“My experience was similar,” Allura says quietly. “I had a — list of letters, from my mother. She knew she was ill, that she wasn’t going to be there for long, so she wrote a series of letters for me for various milestones. I had one for my first period, but it wasn’t…the same.”

Pidge squeezes her hand.

“This no mom shit sucks.”

Allura snorts. “It does.”

Allura keeps her hands clutched with Pidge’s. She holds her tightly, and Pidge doesn’t feel good, but she feels — better.

Big sisters make everythint better, Pidge is learning.

[thelovelybitten]

am I actually seeing this or am I getting sonaze food…AGAIN?!?!? they’re so silly.

Sonic/Blaze energy is just so cute y’all I can’t

the silver/blaze sibling moment after this scene makes me smile too :))) they go to SOLEANNA ?!?!? I love a 06 ref done right 🤩

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

― pairing: daryl dixon & little sister!reader (platonic)

― era: season 10

― summary: it had been too long since you've seen your older brother, and if he was going to be honest, he thought you were dead.

― warnings: mentions of death, arguments, fluff, and angst.

― wc: 1041

⋆ a/n: i was mentioned in a post by @morgan-wolf that gave me some prompts that they had come up with, and i figured why not do a platonic fanfic? i had a lot of fun making this and thank you for the mention! :] it's always so refreshing to write something platonic omg.

masterlist | AO3

You had honestly thought you would never see your older brother, Daryl, ever again. It just didn’t seem possible; with the lengths you’d traveled on foot to the people you’ve lost, the idea of him being alive was almost too good to be true.

You guys had been separated from each other ever since you were fifteen. It was your fault really, but the argument you had between Merle & Daryl was considered a big deal at the time, but now that you’re almost twenty-six, it was almost laughable. You had gone out drinking with some friends and hadn’t come home until the next night, and Daryl was almost losing his mind worrying about you.

You were a complete accident, your parents hadn’t cared about you since you were born, and the caretaking was left up to Daryl & Merle, but of course, Merle can’t take responsibility for anything, so Daryl was the one that took care of you most of the time. Of course, with the pressures of teenage hormones and the fact that there was nothing to do in your small town, you would eventually give in to the mischief of your friends. Daryl had dreaded the day you grew up truly, and that night was an eye opener for him, and he had no idea how to take it.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?!” Daryl asked angrily. He stood behind one of the dining room chairs, his hands having a death grip on the back of it. “I was thinkin’ that I wanted to go and hangout with my friends without you on my back!” You replied back in irritation. Merle chimed in from the couch he was sitting on, “Don’t act like we didn’t do that when we were her age, little brother.” He laughed to himself before taking a swig of his beer. 

“Shut up man!” He growled.

“You’re not my fucking dad,” You bit. “So I don’t even know why you fucking care.”

His face morphed into something nasty. “Ya think I wanted to take care of ya?” He began to slowly approach you. “Yer jus’ some fuckin’ burden that I was stuck with..” His finger jabbed into your shoulder. A sickening feeling settled in your stomach as you bit back tears; his words hurt worse than you thought they would, and without thinking you said, “Fuck you, Daryl.” As you shoved him away from you and stormed out of the front door.

Daryl went to move when Merle piped up from the couch once more.

“Let ‘er go. She’ll be back, jus’ needs some time to cool off.”

Daryl wished that he hadn’t listened to him.

For the next ten years, you were on your own, and you had spent the first five holding on to hope that the only family you had managed to survive. Even though you hated Merle, he was blood, at least that’s what he had said - which you since learned was a shitty manipulation tactic. You didn’t mean what you had said to Daryl though, you didn’t have the right to say what you did to him, and maybe both of you were in the wrong; most nights when you were supposed to be sleeping, you’d stare up at the stars, your head swimming with questions.

Now, you’ve stopped wondering, just opting to live and save the people that were alive.

You were wandering back to your camp when you stopped in your tracks, slowly drawing your bow and quiver as you watched a man surveying your makeshift camp in the woods.

“Drop your weapons.” You said lowly. 

You could see his back muscles tense under his angel jacket, your eyes falling on the dog that was waiting for its owner's command. Your eyes softened, you hadn’t seen a dog in so long you’ve almost forgotten what they looked like.

“No one’s gotta get hurt.” You heard him say. “You’re right, so drop your shit,” You pulled tighter on the string. “I won’t ask you again.” He froze for a second before quickly spinning around, his crossbow brought up and ready to shoot.

Your tense body deflated at the sight of Daryl.

“D?” You asked in disbelief. 

Those same tears pricked at the ducts in your eyes caused you to lower your bow, becoming completely defenseless. You threw your arms around him and began to sob, clinging onto him as you could barely say a coherent sentence. Years of grief and loss completely melted from your body, as that hole in your heart had finally begun to heal.

He couldn’t believe you were still alive; all hope had died off with you the night that you disappeared. He had no idea if you had found a safe zone or if you were bitten. He desperately searched for you until Merle forced him to move, where they inevitably found the quarry and its people.

“God,” You say as you pull away from him. “You look like shit, old man.” You attempted to joke to cover up your embarrassment of showing your vulnerability. “Ya don’ look any better, brat.” He grumbled light-heartedly. 

You two had begun to walk together, a couple of giggles escaping your lips as Daryl’s dog danced around your legs once he learned you weren’t a threat.

“So, where have you been?” You asked. He just shrugs, “I’ve been around.” You nodded in understanding. “Same here. I can’t even tell you where I’ve gone.” You snorted in amusement. There was another beat of silence before you spoke again. 

“Where’s Merle?”

He nibbled on the skin of his lower lip nervously.

“He uh- he didn’t make it.” His voice almost sounded sad. “Oh.” You didn’t know how to feel about hearing about the eldests’ death. A part of you was sad, but the other part of you was also in disbelief, almost like you didn’t believe him. “How did he die?” 

“Doin’ somethin’ stupid but kinda… heroic?” 

“I would have never expected that.” 

“Me neither.” He said with his classic scoff.

Despite losing one brother, you were grateful that you had the other, and if you were going to be honest, he was your favorite. Your conversations flowed as if you hadn’t had to pick up where you left off.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy

[ak319]

I absolutely love your yandere Arthur stuff- though I really have the curiosity to see him suffer. I was wondering how he'd go about if the reader, in a desperate attempt to escape, ended up getting really really hurt (if she survived or not, up to you.. but make it real heart shattering please)

Thank you and keep being awesome!!

(AN: So, I got two asks (TW) relating to suicide and the other two I added cuz I thought they lined perfectly with the plot that came to my mind. So saddle up as this is going to be a tough one, do read the warnings, and also thank you to all the anons for reading and sending the asks!)

Warnings/MDNI: Suicide, angst, forced prostitution, the reader is underage. (15-16), not incest, strictly platonic, abuse// I don't condone such behaviour

It had been almost a week since you’d run, from everything that had suffocated you. An older woman in her 50s, a widow with two married daughters, had found you and decided to give you shelter. You couldn’t have been more grateful to Linda, and you even felt for her, living alone in a small house with only her animals for company. What you hadn’t expected, perhaps in your own naivety and desperation, was that choices made in haste often became someone else’s chance to shape their own life for the better.

You were dusting off a vase when you noticed two men approaching the fence on horseback. Anxiety bubbled in your stomach. Even the faint sound of hooves and the sight of those hats stirred reminders of your brother, of the camp, memories Linda knew well by now.

“Linda, there are people outside,” you said, voice tight with unease. She looked up from her book, her expression unreadable as she rose. With an air of certainty, as if she’d anticipated this, she opened the door without even glancing to see who they were.

“Good mornin’, Miss Linda.”

The men stepped inside, their eyes sweeping over the small room before landing on you, a young girl, untouched as they were told, standing tensely in the corner, cloth in hand.

“Is she the one?”

“Yes. Her name’s (Y/N),” Linda replied without hesitation, her tone strangely casual.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Um, Miss Linda?” you murmured, hoping for some explanation. But when you looked at her, the warmth she’d shown when she’d found you, empty-handed and alone, was nowhere to be found.

As their conversation continued, realization dawned painfully fast. This wasn’t an innocent meeting. She had sold you, to men who clearly had no good intentions.

“NO!” you shouted, thrashing as one of them seized you, his grip iron-tight. Panic surged through you as you struggled, tears stinging your eyes.

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? LINDA!” you screamed, your voice cracking. “You have daughters of your own!” But the other man quickly moved to hold you down, binding your wrists as dread washed over you. No, this can’t be real, you thought, desperately praying for a miracle, for anything.

“I don’t have daughters,” Linda replied flatly, her gaze fixed on the money roll they handed her. “I live alone. You fell right into my trap, girly, this is what I do for a living.” She didn’t even look up as they gagged you, ignoring your cries and pleas as they dragged you from her house, indifferent to your terror.

⋆⋆⋆

It had been three months since they’d dragged you into this unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers with cold eyes and colder hearts.It was useless no matter how much you begged or how hard you fought. The punishments, the beatings, the days locked away in dank cellars, became too much to bear.

"It's always a fun challenge to tame young ones like you,"

Eventually, the fight drained out of you. Bit by bit, you surrendered. You gave up on freedom, on dignity, on every cherished memory. You tried to convince yourself it wasn’t giving up, that they had taken it from you. But deep down, you knew the people around you would laugh at that. A woman, giving in? As if you’d ever had a choice.

Even if... even if your brother somehow found you, what would he say? If he saw you here, saw all that had happened, would he forgive you for running away? He will, he will because you're the only one he has left. It was a lie you whispered to yourself just to make it through the endless nights.

But still, despite everything, you prayed. Prayed that somehow he’d find you, that he’d come and take you back. That he’d see past the shame, past the bruises and broken pieces, and remember the sister you used to be. You clung to that thin thread of hope, fragile as it was, because it was the only thing left that still felt like yours.

⋆⋆⋆

Arthur hadn’t had a moment’s peace since you disappeared. The guilt and fury festered into a dark cloud over him, filling every waking moment. Every step, every job he took on, only seemed to twist the knife deeper, because how could he even think about anything else while you were out there alone?

He lashed out at everyone. Every misstep or delay was another reminder that they’d failed to keep you safe, to keep you close. It stung him that no one had been there, that Dutch’s assurances and promises meant so little when it came down to it. The camp members bore the brunt of his fury, his paranoia that they might’ve even helped you leave simmering just beneath the surface. And though they knew better than to push back, they held their patience, trying to calm him, even if it was like talking to a wall. How could these people not take care of you? It was the only thing he had asked Dutch for in exchange for giving his all, his best with his every breath.

Still, he couldn’t rest. Every day he pushed himself, scanning faces in crowded towns, following trails that led nowhere. He’d never admit it, but he was scared, scared of what might’ve happened to you. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw you for himself, safe and within the bounds of camp again.

⋆⋆⋆

It was one of those days where Chief, the man who forced you to call him that, as if it somehow dignified his cruelty, had you paraded through saloons to attract new customers. The older, more experienced girls absorbed most of the men’s attention, giving you brief respites where you could linger near the corners, gaze averted, trying not to see or be seen. This was your coping mechanism: be present but remain hidden, fading into the shadows, preserving the last shreds of yourself.

Chief rarely paid attention to your position; he was usually too engrossed in gambling or drinking with his cronies to notice. So long as you didn’t step out of line or attempt an escape, an impossible feat with his guards stationed outside, he didn’t care where you lingered. For these few stolen moments, you could almost feel invisible, protected by the wall at your back and the murmur of unfamiliar voices.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.

Charles. Right there, across the room. Your heart thundered, your breath catching in your throat. He was here, and the realization struck you like a blow. You must’ve stared too long because his eyes landed on you, recognition dawning in his gaze. You could see his shock twist into something harder, his face darkening as he took in your presence here.

His eyes were locked onto you, and he rose from his seat, his gaze sharp and unyielding, scanning every inch of you with a dawning recognition. Each step he took made your heart pound harder, a mix of disbelief and terror twisting in your chest. You couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe, as you pressed yourself further against the wall, as though it might somehow swallow you up.

“(Y/N)...?”

His voice was low, laced with disbelief and something that almost sounded like relief, but there was no mistaking the tremor in it. Your throat tightened, and a thousand unspoken words tangled there, as if your body itself was rejecting the reality of being found.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your tongue felt heavy, paralyzed by shame and fear. The silence was broken by Chief, who was now at your side oblivious to the storm brewing, chuckled and tightened his hand on your shoulder. "This is Cherry, my newest one. One of the youngest, too," he taunted, a sick grin spreading across his face. "Would you like a taste, sir?"

Charles didn’t hesitate. In an instant, he was on Chief, his fists swinging. You watched as Charles’s rage took over, each blow landing harder than the last, rendering Chief into a bloody, unrecognizable heap. The noise and chaos around you faded, replaced by a surreal, dreamlike silence.

You wanted to move, to say something, anything, but shock held you frozen. The reality was hitting you all at once, Charles had found you. After all this time, your prayers have finally been answered. But along with the relief, dread crept in. Charles was here, yes, but what about Arthur?

Arthur. The thought of facing him filled you with a hollow, bone-deep fear. What would he say? What would he do when he saw you like this?

“Arthur’s been looking for you. Day and night, he’s been looking. And he’s… well, you know how he is.” He paused, his gaze turning serious. “But he needs to see you. Needs to know you’re safe.”

"I--can't....Charles," he was the second after Arthur whom you called a brother, if this was your condition in front of him, you dreaded facing your real one.

"He...will --no, please." No, this wasn't how it was supposed to be, you should have been happy to go.

"The hell I am leaving you here!"

"Charles, no, you don’t understand!" you protested, your voice trembling as you recoiled slightly from his touch. “Arthur… he’ll be furious! He’ll-”

“He’ll be furious if he finds out you’re here, too,” Charles interjected, his tone sharp yet laced with concern. “But I can’t leave you here. You deserve better than this.”

You nodded slowly, still numb, letting him lead you outside, where the guards who usually kept watch were already scattered, backing off after seeing Charles’s wrath. He didn’t let you go, staying close as he guided you through the quiet streets.

With a final glance back at the saloon, you took his hand, feeling a mix of fear and gratitude surge through you. As you climbed onto the horse behind him, the reality of what lay ahead crashed over you like a wave.

⋆⋆⋆

All the guilt and frustration that Arthur had felt at himself and the others had now morphed into a seething fury. He could barely contain the storm brewing inside him as he stood there, fists clenched, watching Charles bring you back to camp. You stood behind him, your head bowed, and he could feel the weight of your shame even from a distance.

When Charles, with his broken and hesitant words, explained where you had been and what you had endured , Arthur felt a rush of bile rise in his throat. Hearing that you had been forced into such a degrading life, turning into a whore, no less in front of the whole camp, set off a wildfire of rage within him. It felt as if every cell in his body was screaming, torn between the desire to protect you and the urge to just shoot you and then himself.

“Why…?” he managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper, but the intensity of his gaze was like fire. You could only let out a whimper, too overwhelmed by shame and fear to answer.

“Arthur... it's not (Y/N)'s fault-” Charles began, trying to explain the circumstances, but Arthur cut him off sharply, the anger bubbling over.

“I AM ASKING HER, CHARLES, SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I ASKED YOU SOMETHING!” His voice thundered across the camp, startling the others who had gathered to witness the confrontation.

Silence fell over the clearing, all eyes on you as Arthur took a step forward, his expression a mix of pain and fury. You flinched, feeling the heat of his anger radiating off him like a tangible force.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a rabbit caught in the glare of a predator. You could see the way his fists trembled, the way his jaw clenched, and it terrified you. “I---I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, "I am s-sorry...please."

Annabelle, having enough interjected. "Let the child breathe Arthur! You are scaring her for no fucking reason! You should be happy she's been found you dumbass!"

“Stay out of this, Annabelle!” Arthur snapped, the violence in his tone making everyone around him tense. “You don’t know what she’s done. You don’t know how she’s made me suffer!”

Hosea, who had been observing quietly, spoke up as well, attempting to de-escalate the situation. “Arthur, we need to think this through. She’s back now, that’s what matters-”

But before Hosea could finish, Dutch stepped in, his voice commanding. “Enough! This isn’t helping anyone. Arthur, take a breath. We’ll sort this out, but you need to calm down.”

Arthur’s fury seemed to intensify, the frustration boiling over. “Calm down!?” he spat, eyes dark with rage. “She thinks she can run away from me, become a whore and come back like nothing happened? I’m not letting her off that easy!”

With a sudden, swift movement, he seized your arm, dragging you towards a nearby tent. You stumbled, panic rising within you as you felt the grip of his hand, the anger radiating off him like heat from a fire.

“Arthur, please!” you cried, but he didn’t respond, his jaw set in a hard line as he pulled you along, ignoring the protests from Annabelle and Hosea.

"If anyone comes near me, I am gonna gut em' alive!"

“Arthur, think about what you’re doing!” Annabelle called after you, her voice strained with concern. “You can’t just take her away like this-” Dutch silenced her with holding her shoulders. "Don't you dare go near him! He's not in his senses-"

"SO GO AND STOP HIM!"

But he was already inside the tent, and the flap fell shut behind you with a heavy finality. The moment you were alone, he released you, stepping back with a mixture of anger and desperation. “Why would you do this to me? To us?” he demanded, his voice low and intense.

You backed away and fell onto the cot. "Just...just listen and I'll explain-

"Oh really? Did you enjoy your adventures? See, I was right. This is what they fuckin' taught you , what that bitch Anne, taught you. That fuckin' school!" He grabbed you by your jaw to make you face him. That's when you saw the tint of hurt in his eyes.

“You think this is a joke? I’m a joke? You fuckin’ ran our family’s name, my name, into the mud. I can’t even--” He threw you back onto the bed, the impact rattling through your bones. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

“Arthur, I’m still me,” you whispered, through sobs. “I’m still.... your sister."

"IF YOU WERE YOU WOULD HAVE LISTENED TO ME AND STAYED HERE!"

He was right, you should have listened and stayed here, chasing your dreams only led you to more nightmares and even now, it seems there are more to face.

You could barely catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you scrambled to find words that might bridge the chasm between you. Taking a shaky breath, you wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"You should be lucky I haven't shot you yet. If I was the one who found you, God knows what I would have done. Stay in this fucking tent until I say so, and don’t show me your face." His voice was low and dangerous, a growl that reverberated through the air like a thunderclap.

You flinched at his words, the truth of them hitting you like a slap. You had been trying to convince yourself that you were still worthy, still, the same person who had left the camp. But standing in front of him, the reality crashed down. You were not that person anymore, and you didn’t know how to return to her.

⋆⋆⋆

Annabelle and the others came to check on you, their voices a distant murmur as if they were speaking through water. You barely registered their presence, lost in a maze of your thoughts, every path leading back to Arthur’s harsh words. What had you expected from him? A comforting embrace? A gentle reminder that you were still his sister, despite everything?

You couldn't help but wonder if you were truly as heinous as he implied. Were you still his blood even? The questions tormented you, each one sharper than the last. You knew the truth of his overprotectiveness, it stemmed from love, from a desire to shield you from the dangers of the world. Yet here you were, the very thing he had feared, tainted by your stubborn quest for freedom and adventure.

Pushing the flap of his tent aside just enough to peek in, you caught sight of him, his back turned to you, oblivious to your presence. Just like he turned his back today on you. Funny.

With a deep breath, you stepped inside and placed the note in his satchel, the fabric brushing against your fingertips feeling heavier than it should.

You took one last glance at your brother, the weight of your choices pressing down on your heart, then slipped out of the tent, moving stealthily toward the supply wagon

When you retrieved what you needed, you returned to the privacy of your tent, the familiar space feeling more suffocating than ever. You sank onto the cot, the cold metal of the weapon glimmering in the bits of moonlight that managed to seep through the fabric.

Taking your time, you pondered everything that had brought you to this moment. You searched desperately for a glimmer of hope, but all you found were dead ends. Before returning with Charles, you had imagined a future where your brother might forgive you, where he could overlook the darkness of the past and allow you both to move on, forgetting the pain that had laced your life. You were even ready to let go of the past, but that hope had shattered just as quickly as it had formed.

With a final breath, you cocked the revolver, the click echoing in the silence of the night. The weight of it pressed against your skin as you brought it to the side of your forehead. At that moment, the tumult of emotions surged, fear, regret, and an aching desire for peace, threatening to consume you whole, and it did.

⋆⋆⋆

3 hours.

It had been three hours and the camp was thick with an oppressive silence that weighed heavily on everyone. The men came and went into the tent, each trying to mask their sorrow with bravado, yet their eyes betrayed them, glassy, haunted. Annabelle’s wailing filled the air outside, her cries echoing like a banshee’s lament, punctuated by shouts of blame that pierced the quiet. Yet through it all, Arthur couldn’t hear anything; he couldn’t see anything except your limp form cradled in his arms, and the world faded to grey around him.

He was convinced it was just a nightmare, an illusion crafted by his mind to torment him.

“Arthur...” Charles’s voice broke through the haze as he placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders, his grip steady yet heavy with gravity.

“We...gotta bury her. Please.” The weight of those words hung heavy in the air, an inevitability that Arthur couldn’t bear to face.

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head vehemently as if denying the truth would somehow alter the reality before him. “Only dead people are buried. She’s...she's just sleeping.” The fervour in his voice rose, desperation threading through his tone. “Mum had to always snatch the covers from her because she refused to wake up...she'll wake up soon...I know."

His memory of those mornings washed over him, a bittersweet recollection that clashed violently with the present. The warmth of your laughter, the way you would bury your head deeper into your blankets, evading the morning sun, flared in his mind. Arthur’s grip tightened around you, as if holding you closer could somehow anchor him in this cruel moment, could make you open your eyes.

“Arthur, please.” Charles’s voice trembled with a mixture of compassion and urgency. “We have to let her go. We can’t keep holding on.

“No, I said fucking no. Don't you come near, fuck off!" Arthur growled, the denial thick in his throat.

But all Arthur could think was how cruel it felt, how unbearable it was to even entertain the idea of accepting it. You were his baby sister, his blood, the only family he had left, the one he had been given responsibility by his mother, and the thought of your absence left a hollow pit in his stomach, a void that threatened to swallow him whole. He pressed his face against your hair, clutching you close to his chest, inhaling the scent of you, soft, sweet, and achingly familiar. He murmured incoherently, swaying back and forth like a child himself.

“No,” he repeated choked out, tears streaming down his face. “I won’t lose her, not like this. Not ever. GO AWAY!”

It had taken every man in the camp to separate Arthur from cradling your body. His grip was ironclad, his anguish palpable as he held you against him, as if the sheer force of his will could resurrect you from the depths of despair. They had to pry his fingers from your lifeless form, his cries piercing the stillness of the evening like a gunshot.

As they prepared the grave, the earth was turned and the makeshift coffin formed from an old wooden crate. Each shovel of dirt that fell felt like another piece of Arthur’s soul being buried alongside you. The men worked in silence, their hearts heavy with grief, knowing they could do nothing to ease the torment radiating from him. Charles stood to the side, his own heart breaking.

Even Hosea wasn't able to comfort anyone at this moment. He couldn't fathom that a girl like you, who had so much to live for, for whom he silently had promised to be a guardian of at this camp, was gone. Just like that. He will never forget how you cared for him as a daughter would for her father. Making sure he ate his meals, assisting him with chores and sipping morning (coffee/tea) with him as he read the local news alongside you.

Finally, the moment came. Arthur stumbled forward, the weight of your absence pulling him down as he lowered you into the ground. The first clod of dirt landed with a finality that echoed in the silence of the camp. Tears streamed down his cheek, cutting a path through the grime and dust of the world around him. It felt like a betrayal like they were burying not just you but every memory, every dream he had cherished.

The men finished covering you and when it was done, they stepped back, leaving Arthur alone with his sorrow. He sank to his knees, a hollow shell, fingers digging into the earth as he pressed his forehead against the freshly turned soil. It was all he had left of you.

Dutch approached cautiously, his heart heavy as he watched Arthur, the man he had come to rely on, the strongest in his camp, unravelling before him. “Arthur, my son.." he said softly, “we need to get back to camp. You can’t stay here like this.”

Arthur didn’t budge, his body rigid, his eyes fixed on the grave. “I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered, voice low and filled with pain.

“Please,” Dutch urged softly, “it’s time to go. You can honor her memory at camp. We’ll make sure she’s remembered.”

But Arthur only tightened his grip on the soil. “I don’t care. I’m staying here. I won’t leave her. I can’t…she's alone here.” The darkness of the night and you being alone made his body tremble. With that, he lowered his forehead to the cool earth, the pain a constant pulse in his heart, echoing with every breath he took. At that moment, he felt as though he had buried a part of himself alongside you.

"Just...be sure to come back, son."

With a heavy heart, Dutch turned away, leaving Arthur to mourn. And as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Arthur remained there, kneeling by the grave. For God knows how long.

That was the last time since Dutch saw him. Arthur went away from the camp, at least for the whole 4 months. Wandering and coping. Even after he came back, nothing was the same anymore. Pearson's stew tasted worse than ever, its blandness a stark reminder of the joy you used to bring to their meals.

Annabelle had left shortly after your passing, her heart broken beyond repair. She broke things off with Dutch, her fury spilling over. Blaming him, blaming Arthur. This time, Arthur didn’t disagree with her. There were moments when he caught glimpses of hate and blame in Hosea’s eyes too due to that night, moments that cut deeper than any bullet.

That night he had shrouded his fear with his rage because he didn't have the heart to hear any further, anything of what you had endured because he knew he couldn't bear it. Due to this utter selfishness of his, he forgot about your pain, denied to offer his shoulder to you.

Hey Arthur,

I know I’m leaving, and I wish I could tell you that everything will be okay, but I need you to understand something important, none of this is your fault. Please don’t let yourself carry that burden. You’ve always tried to protect me, and it breaks my heart to think that you might blame yourself for my choices. I don’t want you to live with regret, feeling like you didn’t fulfil some promise to Mum. That’s not what she would have wanted for either of us. Neither Dad.

As I write this, I want you to remember the better, more joyful moments we shared when we were young. The laughter that rang through our home, the endless promises of going on adventures we dreamed of as we rode in town with Dad.

You always looked out for me, and always kept me safe, and I will forever be grateful for your protection. You did more than any brother could. But you must know that the path I chose was mine alone. I was foolish to step outside when you even said not to and I got lost along the way. It’s not a reflection of you or your love for me. I don’t want you to carry the weight of my choices as if they were yours to bear.

I want you to live your life without the chains of guilt holding you down. Don’t let this tragedy rob you of your future. Pursue your dreams, even in this hard life of an outlaw and embrace the adventure that awaits you because I have seen how much you enjoy doing what you do even if I was not in favour of it. Find joy in the little things, just as we did when we were young and remember that we are forever connected by the love we share as siblings.

If you find it within you, forgive yourself. I hope that one day, you can look back on our memories with a smile instead of sorrow. I’ll always be a part of you, a part that encourages you to keep going, to live fiercely and fully.

Take care of yourself, okay?

With love,

(Y/N)

Arthur’s fingers lingered over the page of the letter, the ink slightly smudged from his own tears. Each word felt like a dagger in his chest, a reminder of the weight he carried, the weight of his past actions, of his failures as your guardian. He carefully placed the letter beside the photo of you both, sitting together, a snapshot of somewhat happier times, a month after he and you arrived in camp. The Morgans, written at the bottom, as Dutch had called you both. Your eyes were not smiling, they were empty of the mischief and the liveliness which you always held. It clearly showed how unhappy you were being separated from the home you held dear to your heart. He dragged you into this life when you barely had the chance to enjoy your childhood. And he failed to see this at the time, blinded by only his promise to keep you at his side.

I’m still.... your sister.

I’m still.... your sister.

I’m still.... your sister.

That plea of yours haunts him to this very day. With a heavy heart, Arthur rose from where he sat, the sun casting long shadows over the camp. He made his way to your grave, each step a reminder of the distance between them now, a chasm he had never imagined would grow so vast.

He knelt down, pulling a few wildflowers from the ground nearby, bright yellow blooms that reminded him of your bubbly laughter. They were vibrant, like the memories he held close to his heart. As he laid them gently atop the grave, a swell of guilt washed over him, choking him with the realization that you had taken the blame upon yourself.

You had written about not wanting him to live with regret, but how could he not? The dark and violent tendencies that had seeped into his life had cast a shadow over everything, over the once innocent and wholesome relationship, filled with just laughter, jokes, care and bickering, and now they had taken you away from him. Arthur thought of the times he had let his anger consume him, the threats he’d made in fits of rage, the moments he failed to protect you in the way a brother should.

"This is on me," he murmured, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "You didn’t deserve this... none of it."

He brushed his fingers over the grave, feeling the cool earth beneath, as if trying to connect with you one last time. He wished he could tell you that he’d change, that he’d find a way to channel his fury into something constructive rather than destructive. But the truth was, that change seemed too far away, and the regret felt too real.

The flowers seemed to wilt under the weight of his sorrow, and he fought the urge to crumble right there beside you like he did every day when he visited you. Maybe, just maybe a simple word of sympathy from him that night could have prevented this, "I’m so sorry, (Y/N)," he choked out, his heart heavy with guilt. "I’m so damn sorry, m-my little Chumchum."

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the camp, but for Arthur. He stayed there, kneeling at your grave, wishing he could turn back time, wishing he could have been the brother you needed, wishing he could have saved you from the darkness that ultimately claimed your light. Even after killing and gutting alive the ones involved, from Linda to those men, nothing could calm his heart.

It might take a lifetime to heal from your death, but it would take a thousand more to forgive himself.

(AN: Did you cry? I sure did. PS. This was the first time I wrote on this topic so just wanted to say that if you know someone who is going thru smth or even if not, just be kind to others around you and value each other's presence. And if you are goin thru smth be sure to know that this life is a gift and also a test and there is always someone out there who is waiting for you and loves you with all their might, every cell in ur body works for YOU. Thanks for reading, stay hydrated and peace ‎♡‧₊˚)

[promise-keeper-papyrus]

What if Susie from Deltarune was Frisk's adopted and protective older sister?

(Susie would totally beat up anyone that tries to hurt Frisk, but Frisk would make sure that she doesn't actually kill the underground monsters!)

[nobodysdaydreams]

Giving a complicated tragic childhood backstory to your favorite character is all fun and games, until you realize you need to account for how old all the other adult characters would have been at the time and realize that scenes that would work perfectly if one character was twenty three and the other was fourteen stop working when you need other characters who are played by adult actors clearly younger than they are to be in college at the same time so your story beats line up thematically.