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ficmenrhot · 11 months ago

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Finnick’s trauma and comforting him:( /angst/

TW: mentions of forced prostitution and description of some gore and violence, a little bit of self hatred, talking about traumatic events

A/N: to all those survivors and victims of traumatic events, I’m proud of you…and this is a reminder that your loved ones are always willing to listen. Also, this is quite long so buckle up!

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I think it is pretty much common knowledge that Finnick Odair has some deep trauma from his time in the games and past. Although most victors of the Hunger Games suffered the same fate, Finnick was caught in Snow’s grasp too young..too vulnerable. He was forced to participate in the 65th Hunger Games at only 14-to kill others for survival- and when he won, thinking that all the suffering would be over then, he was threatened to become a prostitute at 16, otherwise his loved ones would be slaughtered- in which they did.

Finnick tries so hard to put on a facade in front of the Capitol- when he attends shows and interviews- and he does an amazing job at that. He tries so, so hard to remain strong for you too…to try and convince you that he really is alright by lying that his past no longer haunts him. He wants to assure you that he is stable because he is afraid of becoming a burden to you, afraid to be pushed away or feared by you because of his ‘problems’. The last thing he needs is to have the last person he loves vanish from his life.

However, at times, the stresses and memories just come flooding back to him and he finds himself breaking down.

Sometimes at night, you’ll be awoken by the soft sobs of Finnick crying, and seeing him in that state just absolutely destroys you…as if a thousand knives to your heart.

His back is facing you to avoid having you see his teary face, quietly sniffing into a pillow in his arm. He looks so vulnerable…almost like he’s fourteen all over again, and your heart throbs at the sight of your love- usually so big and strong- breaking down into pieces.

“…F-Finnick, my love?” You whisper ever so softly, sitting up against the headboard as you place a your much smaller hand on his shoulder.

Finnick turns at you, his eyes red and tears welling up at his waterline, long lashes wet and cheeks a little flushed from crying. He blinks, wiping away his tears, voice raspy as he says apologetically,

“Honey….I’m so sorry I woke you up.”

This man. He’s breaking down and he is so selfless that he apologises to you for experiencing valid emotions?!

“Oh Finnick, why are you apologising? It’s not your fault..you know it never is. Was it the nightmares again?” you ask gently with sympathetic eyes.

You have no idea what Finnick had to go through in the Hunger Games or any idea of what it is like to have your body sold but whatever it feels like, you know it must be terrible…so painful and terrible for somebody as strong as Finnick to be shattered. And you wouldn’t even have to think for a second to do anything at all -to kill or to sacrifice your own safety- just to share half of Finnick’s pain….to lift the weighs off his shoulders.

“My love, would you like me to hold you?” It is the least you can offer.

Finnick sniffs quietly and nod, moving closer to you to lay on your chest. Your fingers delve into his golden curls, playing with his hair as it is one of your favourite ways to calm him down. The two of you find peace in the silence before you ask softly:

“Would you like to share what happened, Finnick? Or we can talk about it when you feel better and just cuddle back to sleep…whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

Finnick is quiet for a few moments before he blinks and rubs at his wet lashes, “..it was…it was another nightmare. I had to kill the last tribute…a young girl from district 11. She was only a few years older than me…forced into the Games too…and I had to k-kill her to win…” His voice cracks as a tear rolls down his cheeks, and you wipe it away with your thumb, nodding as you listen attentively.

“It was terrible…the look on her face when I stabbed her with my trident…I can still remember her shrill screams, the look of betrayal on her face…the way her body thudded to the ground with blood soaking up her wetsuit.” Finnick begins to sob once more.

“Shhh..shhh” you coo, stroking Finnick’s cheeks as you attempt to comfort him.

Finnick shakes his head, breath hitched and uneven as he sobs in your hands, and the heartache of seeing him like this nearly eats you alive.

“I…I’m disgusting…I feel impure….and with what Snow did to me…”

“…the things he made me do…I feel disgusting....”

Prostitution is something you know of Finnick’s past, but it is a topic he has never really opened up on until this moment. You never forced him or questioned him about it because you know it is an event of great trauma to him.

You can only stroke Finnick’s hair to sooth him and hold him tightly in support as he continues, feeling both sympathy and proudness that he is able to open up about this topic.

“No matter how much I try to wash myself, to scrub my skin and submerge myself in soap, I can still smell the sickening scent of Capitol perfumes. Sometimes…I feel sorry that I can’t be a better partner for you sweetheart……and I’m so afraid that you’ll leave me or regret me or feel shameful of me.”

You cup Finnick’s face for him to look at you and there are a thousand emotions visible in your eyes as you speak.

“Are you kidding, Finnick? Look me in the eye when I tell you that I will never regret loving you or feel ashamed of you. I’m so proud to have you as my partner, as my lover, so proud of how strong you are…how strong you remain after the terrible things you had to go through.”

“In fact, my love, I look up to you. You’re my role model Finnick, and if I were in your shoes, I would not be able to handle things half as well as you do. You are kind, amazing, beautiful and definitely not disgusting. Trust me when I say that that is the last thing you’ll ever be. Besides, it wasn’t your choice to kill that tribute, anyone would’ve done the same.”

And with that, his sea green eyes softens, and that smile you’re familiar with finally appears on his face. Dimples when he smiles. You press a soft kiss on his forehead and stroke his hair as the two of you hold each other sleepily, slowly dozing off to a deep slumber. The last words you mutter being:

“I love you, my love.”

“I love you more, honey. And thank you….really.”

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A/N: AHHHH! tell me why I almost cried writing this?! This is my first angst and I think the lost piece I’ve written by far (on this new account). Please like or reblog if you enjoyed this, and follows are most definitely appreciated ;)

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair smut #finnick x y/n #the hunger games #finnick smut #finnick odair drabble #thg finnick #thg series #finnick fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick x you #finnick angst

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cannedpickledpeaches · 7 months ago

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Insert Your Name (11)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Congratulations! You have successfully made it all about you (positive). This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Sorry that the tags haven't been working for the past couple of posts! I had to go in and edit the html for each individual one T-T please forgive me

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

A strange sense of satisfaction fills you as surprise fills the man’s face, but you don’t show it. You need to see this through. If you’re powerless in the face of his ability, you simply need to borrow his power. So what if he’s akin to a god? All you need to do is bring him to your side. Whoever that author is, whoever took over (Y/N)’s body—maybe they aren’t capable of using such an asset effectively. However, you’re confident you won’t let that advantage go to waste.

The man hums in thought. “I suppose it could be done without much fanfare. I would simply need to shift my attention to your experiences and abandon the current story. However, you would need to have your story recorded somewhere, in whatever form you may wish for it to take.”

You understand what he’s getting at. A story needs a medium, just like that manuscript. There are many options: on film, as a novel, as a collage of pictures. No strict rules exist for expression of self.

“I’ll keep a journal. Every day, I’ll write an entry, and I’ll also use it as a planner. This way, my ‘story’ will have the events that occurred in my life, how they affected my ‘character development,’ and also outline how I expect the story to ‘progress.’ Is that good enough?”

You still don’t think of yourself as a fictional character. You’re real, in every aspect, to yourself. But that doesn’t matter right now. Functionally, you’re a character to this man. You’ll use that assumption to put yourself in the most advantageous position.

“Yes, that would be a rather interesting way to tell your story. There are indeed many stories that were written in the form of diary entries, so this is not an issue at all. This would, in fact, make things easier for me. I would not have to go through the paperwork and expend energy to bring someone from another world since you already exist in Twisted Wonderland as an established character. There is just one thing you should know before you make this decision.”

“Tell me.” Of course there are strings attached. There always are. You prepare yourself. Self-sacrifice in small amounts is necessary, of course, but if there’s anything you can negotiate with . . . .

“I will have to take the previous author’s soul out of (Y/N)’s body. (Y/N)’s soul will regain control of her own body, since it was never removed, only dormant. Since the author’s original body cannot function without a soul, she cannot return to her world. It will disappear, never to be recovered, lost to the fabric of what forms this space. Are you still willing to proceed?”

“Is that it?” You expected something else. This has nothing to do with you giving up anything. In fact, it could even be considered a bonus. This woman whose story made your life and relationships exceedingly difficult will disappear down to the traces of her soul. It’s an easy decision. “Of course.”

“How cold-hearted you are.” He chuckles down at his teacup. It never seems to drain empty no matter how he sips it. “That is not an undesirable quality in protagonists, although they often do not have a happy ending in fairytales.”

“Is that supposed to deter me or something?” You stay resolute. “My future was always uncertain no matter if it’s a story or not. I’m in the mafia. I’ve come to terms that horrible things could happen at any moment because of the nature of my job a long, long time ago. It’s my responsibility to plan so that I reduce those chances as much as possible. And you’re going to help me.”

“Yes, I am.” He glances at the fireplace, which has burned down to glowing red embers. “Perhaps you should count yourself lucky that you are under my jurisdiction. I am partial to tragic endings, but I also do not mind if an amoral character triumphs in the end. Some of my peers would adamantly ensure it does not happen.”

You furrow your brows. This is not the first time he brought up something being under his “jurisdiction.” However, this is the first time he’s mentioned “peers” instead of “characters.”

“There are others like you?”

“Yes, of course. Twisted Wonderland is filled with too many stories for me to manage on my own. Since you are mainly involved with the Leech Mafia and stories of the Coral Sea, you fall under my jurisdiction.”

It makes sense. This man compared himself to a god, but he isn’t one. He isn’t omnipotent or omniscient.

“Who are they?”

He tilts his head. “You would not know us even if I told you.”

“I’m curious. Tell me anyway.”

“Such a curious character.” He glances at the embers again. “Alright, I see no harm in it. My peers overseeing Twisted Wonderland include Walt Disney, the Brothers Grimm, Hanna Diyab, Victor Hugo, and Lewis Carroll, among others.”

None of these names ring a bell. It is just a list of names, but having more information is never a bad thing.

“And your name? I should know how to address you.”

“Oh, I have not yet introduced myself to you? My apologies, I must be turning forgetful in my old age.” He laughs at himself in a good-natured manner. “My name is Hans Christian Anderson. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduce yourself as well. He extends a hand to you. When your hands connect in a firm handshake, the new deal you’ve made feels solidified.

Anderson looks at the fireplace one more time. The light has died completely, the little room lit only by the moonlight pouring in the window. With a gentle but decisive clap of his hands, he stands from his armchair.

“That was a fruitful discussion, and I thank you for your patience and understanding. I fear time has run out, however, and so I will be sending you back shortly. I’ll place you right back where you came from: at the moment when I brought you here.”

“Hold on!” Too soon, too sudden. You still have so much to say. He holds up a hand, stopping your protests.

“If you’d like to communicate with me, simply write a request for it in your new journal. I wish you best of luck.”

And with that, the world goes white again.

This is the story of a girl whose name is no longer hers. A girl so common that she may as well be a faceless background character in another person’s story. A girl who wishes, more than anything, to be the protagonist of a love story that will sweep her off her feet and solve all her problems.

Her family is normal. Her friends, too. And so is she. It isn’t enough for her. The world inside that game she plays is so magical, so whimsical, so perfect. The characters are handsome, powerful, clever, funny, or rich, or some combination of those qualities. If she enters this world, surely all those wonderful characters would treat her as someone special. They’d love and revere her unconditionally. She pines for a man who would love her and her shortcomings in their entirety, no matter what she does.

The beauty about fictional characters is that because they are fictional, they can be whatever she wants them to be. She can wholeheartedly believe they’ll love her, and there is nothing wrong with that. But she isn’t satisfied with that alone. It needs to be real.

Desperately, she writes a story revolving around a faceless, flawless main character who she desperately wishes she could be. Everyday, the writing consumes her, dragging her into a fantasy of bliss. She begins to resent her reality. Nobody in real life will love her the correct way. Nobody can be as good as the characters she pours her love and headcanons on. She doesn’t consider how love can be gradual, nor does realize someone might have to get to know her before loving her. After all, in her fanfiction, the perfect mafioso loves her main character upon the first meeting and devotes himself with no questions asked. Isn’t that the ideal love?

One day, a miracle occurs. She meets a man who offers to make her story into her reality. Jumping on the chance to live her perfectly crafted life of happiness, she agrees. Finally. Finally, she will be loved the way she wants.

At first, everything went perfectly. Real life follows her fanfiction to the letter. Jade is charming, Floyd is endearing, and a string of coincidences leads her to meet Vil, another handsome bachelor. Love surrounds her at every turn. All she needs in this life are the handsome men who give her special treatment. After all, this body, this life—(Y/N)—was created by her, for her use. All of the previous relationships this body entertained no longer matter. They aren’t hers, anyway.

The polaroids that occupied her nightstand are probably in a landfill somewhere. The aesthetic was cute, befitting the tastes of a character she modelled after herself, but the person in them is irrelevant. Some side character she’s never going to see again. No matter; she’ll eventually replace those polaroids with cute photos of herself and her new love. (Y/N)—no, the placeholder—has served its purpose. It will not miss those useless decorations since it will never again have its own consciousness.

So where did it all go wrong? Perhaps it was wrong from the start. She should have cursed that old man for scamming her. Her happy ending was never a guarantee. How dare a throwaway side character upend her perfect, fairy tale ending? Is that even allowed? They’re all just characters anyway. How can they steal from a real person?

Until the very end, she couldn’t see anyone around her as anything other than characters in a story. Maybe if she did, she might have gotten the love she wanted. Now, she disappears, having never achieved the goal she so desperately grasped at. Like seafoam, her hopes and yearning for love bubbles and disappears.

Hans Christian Anderson places a book into an empty spot on one of his many shelves. He has always been fond of tragedies. As for this new story that’s unfolding . . . who’s to say how it will end? He’s a patient man. With a smile, he settles into an armchair and sips from a cup of tea. He’s looking forward to it. When it eventually ends, like all stories inevitably do, he’ll shelve it and find another story to bring to life.

The world suddenly flashes into focus. The sun’s dying embers flicker on the sea. Sand shifts between your toes. Fingers graze your neck. Before you can activate your Signature Spell, (Y/N) crashes into you and you both topple over into a bed of sand. Bloodlust raises the hairs on the back of your neck. But it isn’t coming from (Y/N). Instead, you instinctively wrap one arm around her and hold the other one out in front of you, shielding her from Jade.

“Wait, wait! Jade, it’s fine. I’m okay.”

He freezes. One of his hands stops a centimeter away from (Y/N)’s hair. She doesn’t react. Slowly, you lay back down, heaving a sigh. You shift her face to the side so that she doesn’t suffocate in your shoulder. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones, complementing the slow rise and fall of her ribs.

“See? She’s asleep.”

Jade furrows his brows. “I fail to understand. Most importantly, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, staring up at the stars that unveil themselves in the darkening sky. “I’m just a little tired.”

You explain everything to him. He seems skeptical, but eventually, he accepts it. He sits in the sand next to you, his hand covering yours. You pretend not to notice, but it offers a soothing calm to your exhausted mind.

“I’m sorry,” you say, glancing at his side profile. “Even if I write that Vil Schoenheit will cure your parents, it might not happen because of continuity issues. Maybe (Y/N) will still be able to convince him.”

“That’s alright.” He catches your gaze. “It would make the story progress more smoothly if we continue with our talks with Walrus.”

He accepted it so quickly. For that matter, so did you. You wonder briefly if there is something at play that makes you accept the reality of your situation as fact—if it’s because you’re a character after all—but that’s all speculation. Not worth your time and energy to figure out.

“Bottom line is, this is my story now. So I’ll make sure the curse on your parents is dispelled.”

“How reliable.” Jade gives you a gentle smile, one that causes an unfamiliar stirring in your chest. “Thank you. What would you like in recompense?”

You weren’t expecting him to offer anything at all. But since he offered, you aren’t one to refuse.

“Money.”

His quiet laughter blends in with the sound of rushing waves.

“No hesitation at all, I see. Of course, I will pay you adequately for your invaluable help.”

“I also want something else.” You fiddle with the strands of (Y/N)’s hair. “I’d like a vacation. Just a week or two after everything settles down so I can go back to my hometown with my mom.”

“Is that what the money is for?”

“Yeah.” Your heart feels a little lighter. “You should visit the Coral Sea after your parents wake up as well. I’m sure you’ll want to spend time with them.”

A pause. You scrutinize Jade’s expression in the low light, but his expression is wholly unfamiliar to you. He almost looks . . . nervous.

“Would you come with us?”

You blink. “Don’t you want to spend time with just your family?”

“Yes, but my parents would be delighted to have you over again. You have not been to our home under the sea in a long time, and I would be more than happy to show you around again.”

“It won’t be a bother?”

“Far from it.” His thumb rubs softly against the back of your hand. “I . . . We are very fond of you.”

You can’t help but think there’s an ulterior motive, but you accept. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve travelled to their home under the sea, and this most likely won’t be the last.

Suddenly, (Y/N) shifts on your chest. A soft noise escapes her lips as though she’s finally awakened from a long nap. Her bleary eyes find yours. Kind, lovely, and gentle eyes. The eyes of the (Y/N) you know and love, the eyes of your friend.

“Huh? Are we on the beach? What happened?”

A relieved laugh bubbles out of your throat and you hug her tightly. Confused but sweet, she reciprocates with reassuring pats to your arm.

“Yeah, we’re on the beach. Let’s get you home.” You sit up and smile as she fusses over the sand in your hair. Normalcy is slowly but surely returning. “I’ll tell you everything on the way there.”

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst x reader #twst jade #twst fanfic #jade leech x reader #mafia au #multi chap fic #slow burn

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freezingmcxn · 5 months ago

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hihihi!! sooo I was wondering for a while, how many creeps/zalgoids(if any) have you put into your AU? do zalgoids even exist in your AU, and do the creeps and zalgoids have like that enemy vibe to them or is it another story?? I love your writing by the way please don’t explode and turn into a marketable plushie☹️

THE CREEPS IN MY AU

Tw: gruesome and dark, mentions of both child murder and murder in general, sacrifice, abuse(childhood included), cannibalism, torture, gore.

Hiii, I’m glad you enjoy it!! So there’s no Zalgoids because Zalgo is a fictional God in my AU rather than an actual entity!

I can totally tell you what creeps and proxies are featured though, I’ll give you a small **summary about their purpose and who they are too ;)

There is some more that I want to add but this is what I have for now

PROXIES

Proxies' true names are unknown, identified instead by a prominent feature or possession.

They are deceased individuals whose bodies have been inhabited by fragments of Slenderman's consciousness.

Proxies exist solely to hunt sustenance for Slenderman, devoid of any need for human interaction or other basic needs. They are single mindedly dedicated to their assigned task, with no distractions.

Boots

Nicknamed “Boots” due to her signature steel-toe hiking boots, she stands out among the Proxies for her relative lack of hostility.

Unlike others, Slenderman’s influence over her corpse is tenuous, resulting in a lingering sense of emptiness and detachment.

She remains mostly unaware of her situation and existence in general, only occasionally acting on his commands.

Shiner

Nicknamed “Shiner” due to the black eyes he often inflicts on his victims before delivering them to Slenderman, he is the most violent and ruthless among the Proxies.

Slenderman’s possession of his corpse is extremely strong, leaving Shiner singularly focused on capturing victims.

Bagsy

Nicknamed “Bagsy” for the shotgun always slung across their body, they take hunting for victims with grave seriousness.

Bagsy remains quite enigmatic, appearing far less frequently than the others.

Constantly wearing a burlap mask, they are often spotted lurking in bushes or trees, meticulously searching for “prey” to satisfy Slenderman.

KILLERS

These are the people living in Maine who have either a secret hobby or a full-time lifestyle centered around killing. Some are in plain sight, while others remain hidden behind the trees.

Jeffery Woods (Jeff The Killer)

Jeffery Woods is a complex twenty something year old man who thrives in the isolation of the forest, deriving extreme pleasure from the suffering he inflicts on others.

Constantly evading the law, he is driven by an insatiable hunger for death and haunted by severe issues and scars that came from “the incident.”

Jeffery roams through towns across Maine, leaving a trail of terror and death in his wake. His extreme god complex fuels a sense of invincibility, making him smile at the wanted posters that adorn telephone poles and store windows.

Tobias Erin Rogers

Tobias Rogers, a self proclaimed outlaw at thirty, fled from home at seventeen and has since made the forests his refuge.

Plagued by a multitude of disorders and an awful past, Toby resorts to murder as a release for his pent-up anger, often turning to cannibalism as a sick comfort.

When he's not burying his hatchets into someone's skull, he wanders endlessly through the forests and towns, a restless and tormented soul.

Natalie Ouellette

Natalie chose a life of isolation, drifting away from society at fifteen after her home life became unbearable.

Now twenty two, she resides in an old camper deep in the forest, rarely seen and shrouded in mystery. Uninterested in human interaction, she often exhibits animalistic behavior.

Driven by an obsession with gore and art, Natalie seeks out campers, typically men, to torture and gruesomely murder.

She dismembers their bodies, scattering parts throughout the forest or creating her own scarecrows, leaving a chilling mark on her secluded part of the forest.

Laughing Jack (Jack Aurand)

Jack Aurand is widely perceived as a happy, upbeat, and kid loving local who runs a store called “Hetty’s”.

His warm demeanor and infectious laughter make him a beloved figure in the community, especially among children.

However, behind this cheerful facade lies his sinister alter ego, "Laughing Jack." Disguised as a clown, he dons colorful costumes, exaggerated makeup, and a big red nose.

His clown persona, complete with an uncanny smile and demeanour, allows him to gain the trust of unsuspecting children who stay out way past their given curfew.

He is the unseen hand behind most of the child murders and kidnappings that have plagued Durham for decades.

GHOSTS/DEMONS

The demons and ghostly residents of the forest are the most human among the creeps you might encounter, which says a lot. Some are fairly neutral toward humans, some see them as prey, and others may fear them.

Sally Williams

Sally Williams, a 12 year old spirit, resides near the deepest parts of the forest.

Her body was tragically dumped in a ditch by her sick uncle and had decomposed before being discovered. Missing posters for her still hang around to this day.

Sally appears to lost campers, attempting to deter them from encountering Slenderman and other dangerous beings.

She remembers every detail leading to her death and has never fully accepted it, though she has learned to cope.

Sally wears a pink, frilly dress that is dirty and torn, her thick curls are knotted and matted with blood and there are visible bruises on her arms and head.

Lyra Rogers

Lyra Rogers, sister of Tobias Rogers, tragically died in a car accident at the age of 19.

She lingers around the outskirts of the forest, hiding whenever people walk by.

Deeply distressed, she still struggles to comprehend what happened, even after all these years.

Lyra misses her baby brother and her mother dearly.

Benjamin Lawman (Ben Drowned)

Ben was forced into Purus because of David Newton’s affect on his mother. His defiance against the cult leader led to his tragic death, and his body was disposed of in a lake.

Ben’s spirit now roams the Durham forests, tethered to the lake that became his final resting place. He appears dripping wet at all times, his clothes cling to his gaunt frame.

His sunken eyes now reflect a deep sorrow and confusion.

Unlike Sally, he has little to no memory of what happened and misses his mother deeply.

Ben is extremely timid, often hiding in the shadows of the dense forest, making him an elusive presence.

Jack Nyras (Eyeless Jack)

Jack one of the demons of the forest (more human than demon) who is living quietly among the trees.

His age is unknown, as he has long lost count. Jack has been in the forest longer than any of the other human creeps.

Once a victim of a satanic cult(not Purus), he was sacrificed, but the ritual went wrong, leaving him half blind and hosting a starving, flesh eating demon who is more of a nuisance than a nightmare.

Jack only kills when necessary, if animal organs aren’t enough, he will seek out a human and consume it whole, bones and all, always making sure to cover his tracks.

David Newton

??Mystery man for now…what’s he doing here.??

That’s all for now!! There is more creeps who are in the townsfolk catagory, let me know if you wanna hear about them too :))

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bbcphile · 11 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

I've finally worked up the courage to post the opening of one of the Mysterious Lotus Casebook fics I'm writing (Li Lianhua/Di Feisheng/Fang Duobing), specifically, from my post-canon fic where LLH's shiniang tried to sacrifice herself to cure him.

Tw/cw: suicide attempt, mention of off-page non-consensual medical procedure, internalized ableism

***

Li Lianhua crashed to his hands and knees on the ground as the last trickle of his borrowed qi abandoned him, the densely-packed sand doing nothing to cushion the blow. The impact rattled through his spine and ribs, shaking loose a bout of coughing that forced him to swallow down the burning flare of copper trying to escape from his mouth. He couldn’t cough up blood now, not here, too many steps away from the water’s reach. It would leave evidence of his route, a trail that his shiniang would undoubtedly follow once she had broken free from the immobilization. He couldn’t let her find him until the job was done.

He pushed himself to standing, his arms and legs shaking hard enough to nearly drop him back to his knees, and he blinked to will the dancing black spots from his eyes. The waves awaited him, and he refused to crawl to meet them. He took a staggering step toward the sound of crashing water ahead of him, far fainter now than it had any right to be, and squinted against the sunlight to get his bearings.

A large gray lump on his left snagged his attention, disrupting the blur of gold and blue that filled up the rest of his view. Why did that look familiar? He took an unsteady step closer, pressing his palm against his chest to convince his lungs to hold back a cough one more time, and the gray lump resolved into a rock.

A rock that had once served as a pillow that was soft only in comparison to how hard the rest of the day had been.

Of course. He’d landed at Donghai beach. He swallowed back tears with a bitter laugh. Never let it be said that the universe didn’t have a sense of humor.

He’d returned after all: three months late for the duel and over a decade late for bringing his decrepit body back to the waves that had so decisively spat him out. But surely this time, with all the mysteries solved and no business left unfinished, the sea would accept the offering of his broken frame. Li Xiangyi was long dead and it was past time for Li Lianhua to follow his example. He was already a ghost in every way that mattered. And this was the only way to guarantee his shiniang would live.

She would be furious, of course, but wasn’t furious better than dead? How could it be unfilial to make sure she lived on? Too many people had died for him; he refused to let her join those ranks. Dying to save her was already a far better death than he deserved.

As for the others, Xiaobao would have his teachings and would be too busy climbing the heights of the jianghu to miss the weak physician he once protected.

And a-Fei—

—well, how could he still fixate on defeating a ghost with Xiaobao shining more brightly than Li Xiangyi ever had?

No, this end was far better for everyone, and best of all, no one would sacrifice their life or be forced to play caretaker to an empty husk of a man.

A familiar chill seared through his veins and meridians, despite the warmth of the fur of his outer layer, stealing away his breath and the amorphous blue blur before him. He took another stumbling step toward where it had been, his heart stuttering painfully in his chest.

Not much longer now. It seemed his frenzied dash here and self-shattered heart meridian were more efficient for what he had in mind than the weight his waterlogged fur coat would have offered.

Perhaps he didn’t need the coat for this at all. His body would certainly float further without it. And not even his shiniang could save him now, so what harm could it do to leave some evidence behind? Xiaobao might not believe the beggar’s words, but surely this fur cloak at the water’s edge would put to rest any lingering futile hopes. And then Xiaobao would tell a-Fei.

And if it brought them peace, if it let them say goodbye, then how could he not leave it behind?

It was decided, then.

He lifted his hands to the coat’s laces, then paused. Were those voices? For a moment, he could have sworn he heard—

—Ah, no, the hallucinations must have started again.

He smiled. At least he had heard a-Fei and Xiabao one last time, if only in his mind.

He untied his laces with fumbling, stiff fingers, and let the coat fall behind him.

His heart and lungs clenched with another spasm, and a wave of dizziness broke over him, threatening to drop him to his knees once more.

He fought against it, muscles shaking as they never had during battles. He couldn’t surrender now; not until he reached the water. He could manage three more steps. He had to.

He tried to lift his foot again.

The world swam before him, and darkness dragged him under.

#mysterious lotus casebook #mlc fic #my fic #Li Lianhua #Di Feisheng #Fang Duobing #Feihua #tw: suicide attempt #the fic will end happily I swear!#This is just about the lowest point for everyone #This is my first time really sharing my creative writing publicly in about 4 years #I am sooooo nervous omg #yay for at least temporarily being healthy enough to write!#wip wednesday #the POVs of the fic alternate between all 3 of the MCs #and they are all unreliable narrators in different ways

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allthingswhumpyandangsty · 9 months ago

Note

If it’s not too much to ask, may I humbly request time travel prompts with mentor whumpee and just team whump in general?

tw: mentions of murder, betrayal, childhood trauma, abuse & self-sacrifice.

each of the prompts is not necessarily connected.

*the last one is my personal favorite ;)

whumpee and the team have to travel back to the past to try to prevent their fate.

oh no! whumpee, who traveled back in time to the past for a mission, comes back as an infant version of themself! literally.

an evil witch gives whumpee a chance to stay in the past for eternity with the love of their life who has passed away. however, if whumpee chooses to stay, all of their teammates will die (and the witch will get all of their souls). is the life of whumpee’s dead significant other worth the lives of their friends?

whumpee travels back in time to the past for a mission that is not related to their childhood trauma, the trauma that no one else in the team knows about, only for said trauma to be triggered by something (or someone) in their past.

whumpee is visited by their future self and is warned by their future self that their own teammates will betray them. according to the future self, the only way whumpee can survive the betrayal is for whumpee to kill them first. the thing is that whumpee is sometimes a liar. sometimes. not always… so can whumpee trust their own future self?

during the time traveling, something goes wrong which causes some (or all of the team) to get trapped in some other dimension / other timeline / the future or the past, etc. their entire existence could be in jeopardy if they couldn’t find a way back home / to the present / to their timeline in time.

something goes wrong during the time-travel mission, which causes one of the teammates to lose all of their memories. mentor whumpee and the rest of the team have no idea how to give their friend their memories back, but they’ll never abandon them.

mentor whumpee leads their team to the future for a mission, their teammates realize that the future is better and suddenly no longer want to go back to the past (their home). whumpee has to do whatever it takes to bring their own wayward teammates home, otherwise the reality will be broken and they all will be dead.

whumpee travels to the future and meets their future self, the problem is that their future self turns out to be a murderer who kills all of whumpee’s teammates, their current friends.

whumpee is forced to kill their future or past self in order to prevent an event, a tragedy, from happening, even if that means they’ll die, too.

after a time-travel mission, whumpee comes back to the present / back to their team “wrong” — no one knows what happened to them during the mission, since whumpee says, “nothing happened, the plan went well,” which is true; the mission was a success, but whumpee is not the same since they returned home.

whumpee “changes” something when they time travel, they don’t think much about it… until they return home to the present and realize what a grave mistake they’ve made, for that one tiny change they’ve made affects everything.

whumpee saves a child when they travel back in time to the past and brings said child to the present with them, they have no idea that the child they rescue is literally themself when they were a kid. this is because whumpee is so abused and traumatized to the point their brain blocks out all the memories of their own childhood trauma.

whumpee and all of their friends live in different timelines, different eras. all of them have trauma and are abused / traumatized. somehow they all time travel (some back in time, some to the future) to be together — outside of time — in order to form a team of Found Family Consists of Tortured Souls whose mission is to rescue as many abused people/animals as they can.

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valley0fstorms · 2 months ago

Text

Misery Loves Company

A little thing I wrote in 2022 about Faust, published here on ao3. I still like it so I hope you enjoy it! TW: Mentions of Self Harm and Suicide

A man sat alone in his room, his body scared. The ones from battle he had known well, and the ones that were self inflicted he knew even better. It had been centuries since the revolution in the Central Country. Centuries had passed since he had let so many people down and led them to their deaths.

He had contemplated suicide before, he craved an end befit of a murderer, but he never went through with it. Dying was a coward's way out. Living was a much more painful punishment. When the world deemed him fit to die, he would.

He hated the thought of it. The thought of him living on when so many of the young wizards under him had been slain weighed on him. He had once believed it to have been for a noble cause, that their sacrifices would mean something, but when he was raised onto that pyre, he realized he had been wrong. He realized that the humans his comrades had fought and died for thought nothing more of them than as weapons.

He was over 400 years old now; the Central Kingdom had thrived after the revolution under the Granvelle rule. After being saved by his friend and former servant, he ran. He didn't want to have to see or be near the humans. He didn't want to be anywhere near the country he had helped to build.

He ran east, deep into the wild where no human would want to go. A place perfect for him. He built a new life deep within it. A house by a river deep within a cursed valley. The only disturbances he had were those of nature, but he didn't mind.

He had planted seeds in the area around his new home. Plants bloomed, drawing creatures near. The birds would nest in the trees nearby, the fish of the river would splash and swim, and the creatures would run and play outside. The sights made him happy. It numbed the scars that weighed on him, even if only for a moment. Even if he believed he didn't deserve solace, the land around him gave it.

He had made a new life for himself. He made sure that no one, unless desperate, would even want to disturb his peace. He painted his image as a curseworker so that humans wouldn't disturb his quiet life of regret and atonement, else he risk doing more damage to himself.

It's been a few decades since he became a Sage's Wizard, a task he found bothersome. Before now, he simply needed to wait on the cursed day to arrive. After the last confrontation, however, his normal life changed. His comrades had died once more. The entirety of the Southern Wizards, half of the Western Wizards, half of the Central Wizards, and half of his own Eastern Wizards. The only one who survived under him had been the heir of Blanchett.

He, too, had almost died. He'd almost been turned to stone and his miserable, regret-filled life would have ended… but the other surviving Wizards managed to summon a new sage.

He was saved by a human from another world.

Since then, he had begrudgingly agreed to stay at the Sage's manor. It felt like more trouble than it was worth, however, as the sage had to summon more wizards to replace their fallen comrades. Among those ten summoned wizards, there were three he wished to avoid.

A teacher, a friend, and a traitor.

The teacher had taught him magic. There was a time when he looked up to him, but the teacher had turned tail. The friend had protected him throughout the revolution. They worked well together, and his devotion was unwavering, but he did not want the friend to die as the rest of his comrades did. The traitor was not a traitor, he was the descendant of one. The descendant was the spitting image of a Granvelle, of the one who put him upon the pyre.

He had never expected to see them. He didn’t want to see them. They were all fragments of his past who came back to haunt him. There was another among them, as well. A boy from the Central Kingdom who reminded him of his foolish past self. A boy dedicated to his faith and his role to help humans. The man felt a sense of pity for him, but minded his business. If the boy wished to go down his current path, he could.

He was aware of his standing in the Central Kingdom. He was aware of his status as a savior and saint. He hated it. He hated how the traitor allowed for his actions against him to be dismissed and instead worshiped him as a hero. He was never a hero. If he was anything, he was a murderer.

In a way, his solitude was a constant punishment and reminder of his failure to act. He preferred it this way. The change in pace brought about by the new sage, however, gave him a chance to connect to others in ways he hadn’t since the revolution. He had his doubts, but he went along to see where it got him, and so far, it seemed to be going well.

A knock came from the door, the familiar voice of a human coming from the other side.

“Faust! Nero finished breakfast, come down when you’re ready!”

Faust smiled at the voice.

The first human he had trusted since Alec.

#mahoyaku #mahotsukai no yakusoku #mhyk #my writing #faust lavinia #faust mhyk #this was the first thing I ever wrote for mhyk btw #the things wizards do to you #it was supposed to be a fau character study #also if you cant tell #the mentioned but unnamed characters are in order #heathcliff figaro lennox and riquet #parallels between faust and riquet youll always be famou #s

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yourlocalspiderwoman · 1 year ago

Text

The Monster Within

Miguel O’hara x gender neutral reader

Angst

Tw: mentioning of drugs

Not my first fanfic being about this magnificent human being🙏also let me know if y’all want a part two or sum🤼

He began to neglect his personal life, and his health began to suffer. He would work for days straight,barely sleeping or eating anything. Despite these signs, Miguel continued down his self-destructive path. He was convinced that only he could save the multiverse, and he was willing to pay any price to archive that.

As y/n entered the lab, they noticed Miguel sitting in the corner, seemingly lost in his thoughts. His skin was so pale and fragile that it looked like it was made of porcelain,so much so that at the slightest touch,it seemed like he would crumble into pieces like a broken vase. His whole appearance was almost frightening, causing y/ns breath to catch in their throat. But despite his fragile appearance, y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight of him, as if he was a force of nature that couldn't be helped but feel drawn to, like a magnet to metal, or the pull of the moon on the ocean tides.

“Miguel I think we seriously need to have a conversation” y/n said carefully as they slowly approached him.”You only hang around your lab and you barely ate anything in the past weeks!We - I…am worried about you Miguel,you can’t keep being this neglectful over your health and just assume none of us would say something about it.”

Miguel finally looked up from his work, his eyes dark and intense,just as his voice. "I understand that you're worried, y/n,but I don't have a choice right now. I have to focus on my work, and right now, that means having priorities and making sacrifices.”

“So what?You’re just gonna keep doing this and ignore how everyone else is worried sick about you?I can’t believe you’re this ignorant.”

Miguels face frowned at y/n's harsh words, and his voice became even lower. "I'm not being ignorant, y/n," he glared. "I know everyone is worried about me, but I can't let that hold me back.This work is too important, too necessary.

Of course none of you would understand that now, would you.”

Y/n shook their head, voice rising as they argued back. "That's not what I meant, Miguel," they said, keeping their voice sharp. "I just meant that you can't keep pushing yourself like this.You're eventually going to collapse, or break down, or worse. And then what? Who's gonna do all of this work then?”.

Miguel and y/n were both standing now, their voices rising as they continued to argue back and forth. The tension in the room was rising and it was clear that neither of them was going to back down.

Miguel spoke first, his voice almost a shout. "You know what, y/n?If you’d give me some space,who knows what I could have accomplished by now!”he shouted, almost yelling. "I can't work with you breathing down my neck all the time. I need to focus on this, and I can't do that if you're constantly interrupting me!"

Y/n looked at him with a mixture of anger and disbelief, their voice almost even louder now. "What am I supposed to do, Miguel?" they shouted back. "Just sit back and watch you destroy yourself, work yourself to death without taking a break?You know I just care about you and-“

“Finally!the genius got it.God how did you even manage to end up as Spider-man.Now if you’d excuse me I need to finish this, preferably without your nagging.”.

Y/n was taken back by Miguel's comment, they had never seen him like this before.

Tired of Miguel's constant belittling, they snapped back at him."And how did you become Spider-man?" y/n asked,their voice almost a shout now. "At least I got bitten by the goddamn spider,not got hooked up on some shitty drug.”

Miguel's expression changed to one of almost shock, as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What did you just say to me?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper now.

Y/n quickly realised what they just said, regret immediately displaying on their face."No,look Miguel I’m sorry I genuinely didn’t mean to say that, you know it.Let’s just take a break and talk this through calmly.”they said, trying to deescalate the situation.

But only then they noticed something about him just seemed so…off.Miguel was almost panting like an animal by now,eyes a deep shade of red and his heart racing like he was on the brink of panic.

It’s only when y/n noticed the signs.All the empty vials stacking up on his desk,his odd behaviour…

He’s on rapture again.

“Look,I said I’m sorry alright?Lets just all think this through once more-“Y/n said,slight panic rising in their voice.They can’t help but slowly retreat, aiming towards the door but the more steps they took back,the more he advanced forward.

“Look just stay put here alright? I can go and get someone—“

But before they were able to react, he already slammed the door tight.Trapping the both of them.

His movements were almost sluggish by now.It was clear that the drug was taking a toll on his body and mind,yet he calmly replied “Don’t. I know I was a bit too harsh on you dear, and I think it’s just fair for me to properly apologise." He paused for a moment, as though considering his next words.

“What…are you talking about.”they said,a slight blush creeping up upon hearing that nickname.”

After a long pause of him contemplating and panting heavily he continued-“Just…god,You just make me feel these intense emotions, it’s just something about you.Something about you that makes me behave like a fucking dog” he released a dark chuckle and for the first time y/n saw his long pointy fangs,grinning back at them.Y/n took a final step back but now found themselves completely backed into a corner.He looked like a monster, a feral creature ready to attack.But yet, there was something else.Something y/n couldn’t quite interpret.

It was getting to the point where Miguel was about to lose himself to the drug completely. He had to stop, he had to do something before it was too late.

But did he want to?

Didn’t he already lose enough? Maybe he just wanted to give in, to let the drug take over,to become completely wild and feral.He lost so much already but at the same time he’s doing everything for…them.

But before he could think about it any further he found himself lunging at them, his claws extended and ready to attack.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spider man #drabble

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lottiepumpkinofficial · 2 months ago

Text

day 19

chap’s 4,5,6

hello hello i’m tired today, before you read i wanna quickly warn that i’ll be mentioning diet culture and fatphobia in this post, you’re welcome to skip this post or scroll past that bit (second comment) if you don’t want to read that - the green text is the end of that bit

“her crescent moon tiara reflecting rainbow light across her face.” we’ve established that lottie is the sun and ellie is the moon, im gonna let you all make of that what you will

“her belly and face had got rounder, her hair longer and fluffier.” okay, i don’t think ive ever said this before, but this little sentence means so much to me. tw- diet culture, fatphobia. so if you haven’t figured out yet, i really relate to lottie, and as a person in a bigger body it made me cry reading this for the first time. often all protagonists are assumed to be thin, especially if they’re meant to be beautiful, and any reference to gaining weight is a bad thing- but for lottie it does not make her even slightly less beautiful or kind or brave or unstoppable. in fact it signifies her literal character growth (thanks jamie im always gonna think about you while mentioning it) and how she’s had a fun summer (despite everything) and that she’s beginning to feel happiness again. anyway that’s my little speech over

“glowing green eyes” hint

the self sacrifice jamie is forced into and forced himself into kills me. don’t go there, don’t ever give up your life for someone else

home. what an interesting concept

i remember reading pip for the first time, learning small tidbits about lottie’s family and trying to piece it together. lottie was too. this poor girl has been through so much

henry pitkin 🩷🩷

painting foreshadowing

“her two royal friends” oh connie, you really hid it right under our noses

ollie trying to get jamie to laugh and failing probably makes him so uncomfortable, he’s already literally said humour is his coping mechanism so imagine your best friend comes to see you for the first time in a year after basically ignoring you so you try to crack a joke so the scary serious guy she’s with lightens up, and he just looks at you. tell me you wouldn’t immediately feel like sinking into the ground

ooh big news ooh big hints oooh shits getting really real

okay i’m clearly feeling sentimental today

#lottie pumpkin #jamie volk #ellie wolf #rosewood chronicles #rwch #rwchreadathon2024 #rwch readathon 2024 #connie glynn

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weaverpop · 9 days ago

Note

lil heads up i have some agnst to offer

so we know Mk is gonna be struggling with his decision at the pillar in S5, the idea that he might of made the wrong choice after all. its def gonna be a dark thought in his mind. also still struggling with his monkie form as at this point it's still associated with the whole "harbinger of chaos" thing and thus is seen as a bad thing currently in his eyes. not to mention a blow to his self identity. the therapy helps but he's still struggling with those thoughts,and his monkey body, still not really touching on them. and then the nightmares start. he dreams of what might of happened had he not been able to get the stones to work, he dreams of what bad things might happen in the future now that the mortal realm has been altered. what it was the nine-headed demon was trying to warn him about, and the chaos. sometimes even he dreams about how everyone might of had better lives in the new cycle. how Nezha and his family couldn't have been happier from the start. some are so bad they even cause panic attacks on occasion

this leads to one night when Nezha's spending the night and is woken up to the sound of glass breaking, and MK isn't in bed with him. he finds him huddled in a tight ball, hyperventilating on the bathroom floor body flashing between human and monkey, one had cut up to hell from punching the mirror which is completely smashed. seeing nezha he just starts rambling off apologies, for fucking up the world, for dooming them, for stealing a chance for a happier timeline. he's convinced himself he's being punished and the dreams are visions because of how detailed and vivid they are. which honestly I wouldn't put it past that, we don't know what happened to Nuwa and many ppl think she'd try to convince or force MK back to the pillar somehow. but it's just as if not more likely MK's long term built-up trauma, feelings of guilt, and paranoia, projecting themselves as really lucid nightmares.

Tw for heavy angst and senstitove topics!

Oof, why you gotta do my heart like that anon?!

You’ve basically got mk down pat! Poor boy been through so much 😭it’s already canon he has nightmares, so it would make sense that they would escalate after the whole self sacrifice thing.

I also love the visual of Nezha finding mk in that state, switching beteeen forms. I feel like after s5 mk would be spending more time in monkey form and less time in human. To the point where ‘human’ becomes more of a glamor. So for Nezha to see him flickering like that is a huge statement to MK’s mental state! He’s struggling and struggling HARD. The others don’t really understand because they’ve never been in that situation where it was either them personally, or the WORLD. But you know who has?

Nezha.

Nezha has done that before in a similar copasity. He’s had to sacrifice himself to save the ones he loves. To know what it’s like to be destined for tragedy. But he came out the other end.

It’s Nezha, the formerly proclaimed demon child, bringer of terrible luck, lotus prince, who is able to see mk for what he needs. The others love Mk, they tell him so, but they don’t understand the way Nezha does.

Nezha helps to comfort mk. He doesn’t tell mk it was wrong. He doesn’t tell him it’s ok. Nezha simply tells him that he’s there for Mk. He tells Mk that everyone is alive, that he made the right choice in the end, and that he couldn’t be happier with the outcome.

It’s not easy. It’s not a one and done deal. But it starts the healing process.

This is one of the main reasons I ship lotusnoodle. Because the parallels are amazing, and I could absolutely see Nezha doing this even platonically. So yea.

Also jail for anon for making me feel things!

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whumpshaped · 1 year ago

Note

Werewolf who gets injured bad enough they can heal, or, alternativeky that get injured so *much* that they cant heal it all at once

tw nonhuman whumpee (werewolf), fear of death/fatally injured, implied future murder, mention of past murders

Whumpee could never reason with the wolf. There was no rational thought in its head, no consideration for complicated morals and ideals. But basic sensations? Oh, the wolf understood those. Hunger, for example, was felt by both of them, and they could agree to go out and immediately try to sate it; their methods might've been different, but the end goal was the same.

Another one was pain. As brutal as the wolf's fight response could be, as flighty as Whumpee could become in the face of a threat, the overwhelming sentiment was echoed by both halves: stop the fucking pain.

The wolf was licking at its wounds desperately, panting and trying to ride it out until its flesh knit back together and its bones fused. Whumpee let it, well-aware that if they were to try and take control now, their human body would simply crumble. They'd die deep in the forest, far from houses and any other person, far from hospitals and help. Neither of them wanted to die.

But the truce was short-lived. The wolf heard a sound from the bushes from across where it lay, and its ears perked up immediately. It was gravely injured, Whumpee didn't know whether it would be able to stand on four feet — and yet, it was ready to give a warning growl and oppose anyone or anything about to step out of the shadows.

Don't do this, Whumpee begged wordlessly. You can't. Not right now. Try to flee instead.

The wolf was clear on its position. Whumpee could feel its need to defend itself, the need to go down fighting if it came down to it. The assumption that running was futile in this state, and the fear of being caught and attacked from behind while it was running.

When the human stepped out of the bushes and locked eyes with the beast, it immediately bared its teeth, growling low in its throat. It was an unmistakable warning: get closer, get mauled. So the human stayed at the edge of the clearing, with their hands held up in surrender.

"Easy," they said softly, but it did nothing to ease the wolf's rabid paranoia. "Holy shit… You're an actual werewolf, aren't you?"

Don't attack, Whumpee pleaded again. They don't look dangerous. They're not here to kill us.

There was nothing but more defensive rage from the wolf, a dangerous uncertainty that only served to fan the flames. It didn't trust the human, and it was going to bite if they came closer.

They had to stop this. They couldn't be complicit in yet another murder of an innocent. They had to wrestle control away from the wolf, because every drop of blood on its paws would end up on their hands eventually.

But the wolf had no concept of self-sacrifice. The wolf only understood basic sentiments, and of those the most important one was preserving its own life. No matter how many times Whumpee slammed their whole body against the invisible wall that separated their minds, no matter how many times they tried to force their shared body back into the shape of a dying human, the wolf didn't budge.

Nor did the stranger.

"And a hurt one at that…" They took a step forward, and the wolf growled even louder. "Easy. I'm not here to cause more harm, yeah?"

Whumpee was pushed even further to the edge of their shared consciousness as the wolf prepared for a fight to the death. In a way, it might've been trying to protect them from the horrors that would ensue. Whumpee didn't care for protection. All they wanted to do was scream at the top of their lungs for the stranger to run.

"I can help you," the human went on, slowly approaching the wolf. "If you'll let me."

That was the last thing Whumpee heard before the beast completely locked them out and the world went black.

#whump #whump drabble #nonhuman whumpee #werewolf whumpee #fear of death/fatally injured #implied future murder #mention of past murders #asks #creetchure

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butwhatifidothis · 1 year ago

Text

You know, as shallow and cheesy as Awakening's writing can get at times, the way it handles Mustafa vs 3H's handling of Edelgard are kind of interesting when compared.

Mustafa is someome that we as players know for exactly one, singular chapter. He is a commander of a troops of soldiers, and he dies the same map he is introduced in. And yet, he has become one of Awakening's most beloved NPC's - if nothing else, he is certainly rarely hated outright. And that is because in his one, singular chapter, he manages to showcase to the player how much of a genuinely good person he is; he is helpless to outright defy his orders, but inspired by Emmeryn's sacrifice he nonetheless tries to plea for Chrom to surrender and avoid bloodshed. He takes their outrage not with anger, or defensiveness, but understanding and sympathy - he knows he is in no place to ask them to surrender, but he does so for the slightest chance of avoiding a fight ultimately he had no power to stop. And after the battle begins and his men start becoming despondent, he loudly tells them that should they want to flee the battle he will take any blame off of their shoulders for doing so. But his men stand by him regardless because they don't want to abandon him, and when Mustafa is killed his dying words are to please spare his men.

In just one chapter, Awakening managed to pull at the players' hearts by going out of its way to show us the kind heart of Mustafa, before forcing our hand in killing him, all while one of the most melancholic tracks of the game plays in the background, further cementing how tragic the situation at hand is for all involved. Most players recall it as one of the most impactful and emotional moments of the entire game.

In contrast to that - and let's assume that we're talking about strictly SS - you have half of the entire route's length having Edelgard by your side directly. As Byleth, you the player can directly speak to and support with her, and you see her perspective on the events of the story. And throughout this time, Edelgard shows herself again and again to be someone of poor character; she admits to being willing to sacrifice her men right after Lonato, Byleth eventually finds out that she helped kidnap Flayn, and that she was somehow complicit with Remire, she graverobbed a holy site and tried to kill Byleth and her "friends" with an army and Demonic Beasts.

And this only includes stuff that Byleth, as a character, finds out throughout the story. They don't know that Edelgard only let them talk with her (aka the player only gains her supports) once they gain the Sword of the Creator, for the explicit reason that she wanted to use them. They don't know that Edelgard didn't just waltz in after Remire randomly, but that she knew it was going to happen and did nothing to stop it. And this only includes stuff in pre-timeskip; they don't see her continue to use Demonic Beasts, or hide behind her citizens, or keep Rhea as a hostage so that she can keep using TWS's help.

And I look at these two characters and am kinda lowkey astonished at how different their writing is. When Mustafa's men grow angry at the soldiers who are shaking in their resolve to fight for Mustafa, I'm on the verge of tears because I know that Mustafa does not deserve death. When Seteth talks about how Edelgard can't be that bad of a ruler because her men follow her, I can't help but roll my eyes. When Henry mentions Mustafa off-handedly in a support chain, I get so sad because the only way to speak about Mustafa at that point is in the past tense. When I talk to characters in the explore sections and I hear them talk about feeling bad about Edelgard dying, I just mash through their babbling.

Because I am given ample reason to understand why characters would like, respect, and mourn for Mustafa. He is kind-hearted, self-sacrificial should it possibly save the lives of others, and does everything he can to make the lives of those around him better. In the collective fuckin' 10 minutes of screentime he has, he shows a quality of character that does nothing but suggest that he was a damn fine person thrown into an impossibly unfortunate circumstance.

But with Edelgard, everything I see of her only tells me that she is selfish, self-centered, and uncaring for the lives around her should they inconvenience her. Why would any character like, respect, or mourn for her, after seeing everything she's done? Even going under the assumption that the players gets all of her supports to the max as they are available in pre-timeskip; nothing, in any support chain, could ever dream of usurping her actions towards everyone. In both a "all of her friends" sense, and especially in a "all of Fodlan" sense. So when I see characters go out of their way to make sure the player knows how swell Edelgard is, I am simply unable to believe that anyone would ever genuinely believe that about her. Not when themselves, their loved ones, and their homelands (for Kingdom/Alliance students) are all being endangered by Edelgard's active, willful actions that she chose to make.

Which itself is another huge thing that makes it so hard to believe anyone in-game would believe in her outside of contrived writing. She's not someone forced to do what she does against all of her wishes, like Mustafa; she is the one with all of the power of 1/3 of Fodlan's political landscape and half of its territorial one. She is the one to spearhead and instigate the war - that is one of explicit conquest anyway, not for any altruistic purpose. Why would anyone cry and snivel and piss themselves over the fact that the person who had the power to make them suffer and did make them suffer lost? Why are they pretending that she's just some poor damsel whose path was so lonely, and not the conquering Emperor that she is and admits to being?

Soooo... yeah lmao. I just found that pretty interesting

#anti edelgard #anti-edelgard #edelgard critical #edelgard discourse #just to be safe #like. I can SEE why Mustafa's men are willing to fight an unwinnable battle for him. why they would die for him #i have NO clue why the hell Ladislava is so loyal to Edelgard - why anyone other than Hubert would ever be GENUINELY loyal to her #MAYBE as a player looking in you can find good in Edelgard but the characters themselves? most don't have that knowledge #and so all most of them have going for them is ''girly who lied to them about colluding with terrorists for a year & tried to murder them''#and THEN they'd have ''girly who violently invaded my homeland with terrorists and mutated humans'' once the war starts #which y'know call me crazy but i don't think She Was Nice To Me Once In High School is enough to offset that image painted by her actions

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serickswrites · 10 months ago

Text

Whump One Shots

Here are all my one shots (can become series by request!) organized by theme (this is the first of many)

Whump

That Didn't Work Out as I Intended--TW: implied/referenced kidnapping; hurt/recovery; trauma response: flight and freeze

Definitely Not--TW: kidnapping, torture, future torture, restraints, creepy/intimate whumper

Just Watch--TW: kidnapping, confinement, creepy/intimate whumper

Let's Kiss--TW: noncon; assault, future assault, kidnapping, self-sacrifice, creepy/intimate whumper

You Can't Quit On Me Now--TW: kidnapping; blood; hospital; wounds; mild description of gore; major character injury; recovery and aftermath

Idiots--TW: referenced kidnapping; implied torture; helplessness

If I Have to Tell You Again--TW: kidnapping; creepy/intimate whumper, implied torture, noncon, defiant whumpee, conditioning

Horribly Wrong--TW: kidnapping; future/implied/referenced torture; beatings; restraint; forced to watch

A Mask--TW: kidnapping; blood; death; character death (temporary)

Impossible--TW: referenced torture; hurt/comfort; hurt/aftermath; recover/aftermath; reluctant whumpee; hospital

Kind of Fun--TW: suffocation; blood; creepy (not intimate) whumper; defiant whumpee

Moon--TW: blood, major character injury, restraints, captivity, stabbing, rescue, caretaker and whumpee

Stars--TW: mentions of torture (electrocution, beating, whipping, waterboarding), attempted drowning, bound, forced to watch

Rain--TW: past abuse/torture, recovery/aftermath, conditioning, burns, break with reality

Wake Up--TW: torture, burns, kidnapping, creepy whumper, blood, future torture implied

Lost--TW: restraints, rescue

Flirt--TW: wounds, injury

Movie--comfort, vaguely referenced whump

DND--TW: kidnapping; torture; blood

Late--TW: restraints, torture, defiant whumpee

Sleep--TW: torture, creepy/intimate whumper, water torture

Braids--TW: kidnapping, restraint, gags, torture, creepy/intimate whumper

Call Me, Maybe?--TW: kidnap, rescue, injury, referenced torture, restraint, gags, seizures

Smile--TW: kidnapping, creepy/intimate whumper, noncon, future assault, past assault (assumption)

Earth--TW: kidnapping; burial; buried alive; rescue attempt

Gone--TW: recovery/aftermath, discussion of suicide (very very passive ideation), implied torture

Five Minutes--TW: kidnapping, torture, blood, creepy/intimate whumper

Flowers--just comfort, vague implication of past whump

Tree--TW: restraint; kidnapping; defiant whumpee

Hush--TW: ball gag, gagging, noncon, implied kidnapping, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee

Ghost--TW: character death, death of a loved one

Snow--TW: kidnapping, escape attempt

Reunion--TW: past mention of trauma/abuse; dissociation; comfort; hospital; mention of blood

Taste--poisoning

Five--TW: kidnapping; torture; blood; stabbing; creepy/intimate whumper; conditioning

Beloved--TW: past abuse/trauma; aftermath/recovery

Sizzle--TW: restraints; mild depiction of gore; branding

Countdown--TW: kidnapping; torture; referenced murder

Here?--TW: kidnapping; beating (aftermath); hallucinations; referenced character death (major)

Sleep--TW: sleep deprivation; kidnapping; torture; restraint; defiant whumpee

Song--TW: hospital; coma? (honestly idk what medically is wrong with whumpee....); aftermath and recovery; implied torture; implied kidnapping

Shoulder--TW: gun; blood; gunshot; wound; mild depiction of gore

Snap--TW: escape attempt; broken bones; torture (mild); kidnapping (implied)

Crackle--TW: sickfic (maybe, idk what caused Whumpee’s pneumonia--which is what this is y’all if you didn’t know lol)

Pop--TW: restraint; kidnapping; dislocation

Cook--TW: kidnapping

Shirt--hurt/comfort

Roses--TW: non-con drug use, creepy/intimate whumper

Unsure--TW: aftermath; trauma aftermath; hurt/comfort; hurt/recovery

Better--TW: captivity; kidnapping; implied torture; referenced botched rescue attempt

This--TW: self sacrifice elements

Lies--TW: torture, blood, knives

Anniversary--TW: captivity, non-con, drugging, restraints, creepy/intimate whumper

Touch--TW: referenced captivity, hurt/aftermath, referenced blood, implied kidnapping, implied torture

Wake Up--TW: implied kidnapping; mcd; noncon drug use; poison

Sea Sick--TW: cruel whumper, seasickness

Dropping the Eaves--TW: captivity; physical assault; implied torture

On My Way--TW: no express whump warnings, but pain is coming

Sick--TW: creepy/intimate whumper

Tired--TW: blood, unconsciousness, hurt/aftermath

Sense--TW: implied kidnapping/captivity

Worse--TW: injury, blood

Writing--TW: hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, implied torture, implied kidnapping

Missed--TW: implied torture, implied future violence, rescue

This is a nightmare--TW: referenced kidnapping, referenced torture

Wrong--TW: captivity, restraint, torture

Wonderful--TW: kidnapping, torture, restraints, non-con, sexual assault, blood

Hug--TW: hurt/aftermath, referenced kidnapping

Stubborn--TW: captivity, torture

Try--TW: abduction, implied future torture

G'Morning--TW: implied noncon, restraints, creepy/intimate whumper

Interesting--TW: choking, implied noncon, creepy/intimate whumper

Last Chance--TW: kidnapping, restraints

So Many--TW: restraints, implied torture, stress position, noncon, creepy/intimate whumper

Goodbye--TW: self-sacrifice

Happen--TW: hurt/aftermath, blood, unconsciousness

Plan--TW: hurt/aftermath, hospital, broken bones, head injury

Unexpected--TW: bindings, gags, restraints, implied noncon, creepy/intimate whumper

Stay Down--TW: head injury, blood, physical violence, gun

Struggle--TW: kidnapping, sensory deprivation

Blood--TW: blood, blood loss, knives, stabbing, gore, caretaker and whumpee

Bad Dream--TW: kidnapping, torture, restraint, drugging, creepy/intimate whumper, hurt/aftermath

To Annoy--TW: stress position, whipping, blood, violence

Let Me See--TW: blood, wounds, gunshot, sprains, self-sacrifice

Cold--TW: hypothermia, hospitals, rescue

Dreaming--TW: mcd, referenced death

Bolt--TW: arrow wound, wound, blood, losing consciousness

Worse Ways--TW: threats of death, electrocution, defiant whumpee

Spiked--TW: drugging, referenced kidnapping, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort

Why Care--TW: hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

My Heart Belongs to You--TW: medical whump, blood, gore, blood loss

Yandere Whumper Request--TW: yandere whumper, captivity, non-con, restraints, gags

Self-Inflicted--TW: captivity, blood, knives, self-harm, escape attempt

Shrapnel--TW: explosion, blood, wounds, unconsciousness, self sacrifice

Alright For Now--TW: Hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, tbh this is just fluff

Don't Leave--TW: hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, implied sensory deprivation?

Like That--TW: torture, knife, blood,, defiant whumpee

Safety--TW: torture, captivity, restraints, electrocution

Clown--TW: captivity, torture, wounds, whipping, restraints, defiant whumpee

Promise--TW: implied torture, kidnapping/captivity, mcd (maybe? you pick your ending folks: does team arrive in time to save whumpee? or do they just find caretaker? the world may never know)

#serickswrites #not writing #whump

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melonminnie · 2 years ago

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hellooo

can i pls request an oscar from baby tyrant x fem reader where reader is kinda of mabel past life friend.

like mabel had a close older friend that she was so close with and was like her older sister but sadly she died shortly before mabel's death but when mabel reincarnated she found another version of her friend or her reincarnated self that doesn't remember her but still clings to her just like her new 'family' [unlike them she understand her even thought she's a baby because her face expressions are obvious..].

but wow , her new 'brother' seem to have a puppy crush on her older sister figure and this puppy crush doesn't seem to go away even as years pass but it seems to grow into something she would even call love.

bonus point if reader's family are criminals that attacked mabel's county using reader as a bait or sacrifice but they got put in jail and the emperor decided to keep her in the castle until her wounds heal and the noble family that decided to adopt her come to take her and that how she met mabel and oscar <3

hopefully everything made sense ! , feel free to ignore this if you don't want to or don't feel comfortable to write it

thank you<3

'star anon

We both like Apple cider ! ( Oscar x fem! Reader)

-I was really happy when I got this request tysm for requesting!! I wasn’t able to keep the full request but I tried I’m sorry </3

TW: mentions of child neglect

“Yes, it’s her!” Mabel confirmed as she stared into the older girl's eyes.

In her past life as yoon gyeoul she had a friend whom she considered her older sister, yes shed been selfish in not telling any of her friends about her crisis with her father, and her lack of money.

Yet she considered y/n a reliable person so she would confide to her about her problems, her father, and about money.

Yes, maybe that's why she felt a connection to the girl in front of her, coincidentally the y/n in her world as the princess of hermano reminded her a lot of the y/n in her past life as yoon gyeoul.

Mabel's eyes bored into yours with slight curiosity, Oscar stood idly beside the girl and for the first time didn’t speak a word to Mabel. His entire attention was on y/n as he boasted to her about how Mabel had called him older brother a few days prior.

Y/ns eyes shifted from Mabel’s to Oscar’s. As the two now ignoring the new born infront of them.

Mabel was getting upset, not because her brother was ignoring her, but because his friend was. Not wanting to be left alone. A loud cry erupted from her catching attention of everyone in the mood.

“!!”

“Oh my!,” the head maid quickly got up from her chair as she held the crying baby in her arms. “What’s wrong your highness” She queered as if the two month old could understand her (she can but they don’t).

As the maid tried to consult the crying child by cradling her and feeding her milk, Oscar quickly ran up next to the maid and tried looking at his sister.

y/n slightly surprised by the sudden outburst of Mabel, followed Oscar, Mabel opened her watery eyes and starred directly into y/ns her crying calming down, Mables tiny hands outstretched themselves reaching to the girl.

The maid quickly took notice of Mabel’s liking to y/n, See the entirety of the imperial empire pitied you.

growing up with a family of criminals often being left alone in unlivable conditions and situations, The two parents quickly used their child as an excuse to try and assassinate the crown prince.

Using you to get closer to him and then they’d strike, Luckily they were caught, Esteban considered killing you for a second, but realized you were just there as an item for your parents.

Quickly the emperor grew a liking to you, of course he couldn’t adopt you, so one of the nobles adopted you after you were healed of course.

And even though Oscar was told to not get close to you, he couldn’t help it he grew a liking to you over time, doing everything you’d wanted him to do without a complaint.

Mabel has the mindset of a 19 year old so she quickly was able to notice how much he adored you!.

She declared it as love!, and Mabel wanted to play Cupid now.

Oscar lives in my head rent free (real)

#-Azuwritess #Oscar x fem reader #Oscar baby tyrant #baby tyrant manhwa #Manhwa #historical manhwa x reader #historical manhwa #Fanfic #Baby tyrant #baby tyrant Esteban #esteban #베이비 폭군

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what-the--curtains · 2 years ago

Text

Fire & Ice

Chapter 2 - Alone in a strangers land

(Robb Stark x f!Targaryen!reader)

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

Summary: Altars are often associated with weddings, but they hold different meaning when sacrifices are included. As you anxiously await your marriage you quickly realize your past self must die to preserve your future reign.

Authors notes: Thank you to all who liked and shared the first chapter of this story 💕💕 I forgot to mention last time but the characters are aged up from the books! Let me know if you want a tag!

TW: Physical Abuse, Forced marriage, reader sees shadows, language

Tagged: @kittykylax @winxschester @mihrimahsultan03 @stargaryenx @the-desilittle-bird @roselibrary

Word count: 5.3k

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

The Neck

The heavy cotton and wool of the clothes provided for you scratched your skin, not used to being covered by thick materials. At least you were warm. The gown was a deep blue, the bell sleeves detailed with faint silver leaves that catch the light of the fire still burning hot from the night before. The cloak was a shade or two darker, and lined with thick grey fur.

Faint, but distinct, scratches remained from where Viserys' nails had grabbed you the night before. Nothing more than a minor blemish to the untrained eye, an itch scratched too hard. You wince as your hand grazes against the area, the pain has settled deep beneath your skin's surface. Violence had thickened it, you were certain bruises were more prominent in your youth.

“Well you look presentable, not perfect but certainly good enough for here,” Visery states as he enters, equally as fidgety in the clothes lent to him. He had always appeared relatively gaunt, but the sheer bulk of the northerners' clothes drowned his slender frame. “Shall we get on with it then?” he asks impatiently, eyes gazing into the mirror behind you.

“You seem in better spirits today. Eager to see me sent to market once again,” you reply.

“A small sacrifice for the greater good,” he explains

“For your greater good perhaps but what about mine,” you question

“When I am King, you will reap the benefits. Perhaps one day I will even allow you to return across the narrow sea, take claim to the lands there,”

“I do not wish to conquer Essos,”you scoff.

“Then what did you wish for? To free them?” He tuts hands ghosting over your arms “You always were serving for the higher cause weren't you, when will you learn those below us are there for a reason,”

“It’s better than you, always looking at the big picture and failing to see the minutiae necessary to get there,” you shoot back.

Visery laughs “Well one of us has to plan for something greater, and as we both know you are incapable,”

“We are expected, we shouldn't be late,” you reply, cutting the conversation short.

Your eyes squint in the bright grey light of early winter. Visery walks ahead of you, his distance giving you an opportunity to study campgrounds. Blood spatter coated the men and the smell of death clung to the air, following them home from the battlefield. You feel their eyes on you as you walk by, perhaps the Targaryen name still held some power after all, or perhaps they simply wondered who wandered freely amongst the ranks. The walk is short but still enough to chill you. If dragons thrive on heat, this place weakend you. You’re shivering when you enter the tent, a side effect of having left some skin exposed in hopes of appeasing any complaints you may face. Men were simple enough and you found attractiveness often aided and rarely hindered situations.

“Welcome, your grace,” Catlynn says as Visery enters. Pleased with the acknowledgment of his rightful title, he takes her hand and kisses it before walking towards the back of the tent. You note the look on her features, she did not trust Visery, you would not allow that distaste to rub onto you.

“My Lady,” you repeat, curtseying.

“Lady Targaryen, how was your sleep?’ she asks

``Wonderful thank you for asking, and for providing us with our own safe place to rest. It is the warmest welcome we’ve ever received,’ you state.

“Hopefully the first of many,” she replies, gesturing to you to sit down at the large oak table.

“You have a wonderful collection of books Lady Stark,'' Visery states, as Catelynn preens your hair, hoping that your appearance would do away her son's foul mood. Another had captured his heart in the span of two days, a nurse, kind hearted, strong and stubborn a perfect match for him but lacking the bloodline necessary for victory. Despite Catelynn's repetition of this, Robb refused to accept it. His whole life she had granted her eldest son every wish, it was time he learnt of compromise, and became the man he was raised to be.

“You should see the collection at Winterfell Your Grace, you are welcome to any literature brought with us. There are even some in languages unknown to us here, having left our maester at home, perhaps you can assist us Lady Targaryen, considering your past training,” As you turn your head towards the books the scratches poke out from beneath your cloak. Catelynn's blue eyes meet yours when you turn back, but there is nothing in your face to confirm her suspicions. If you needed help you did not trust her enough to ask for it.

“I would gladly assist in any way I can My Lady, I have gotten lazy in my study of the languages and it would do me well to start again,” you reply with all the charm vacant in Visery. Perhaps jealousy was why he chose to beat his only remaining relative. She turns as one of Robbs men enters, stopping dead in his tracks, his eyes fixated on you.

Catlynns words interrupted your curtsey, “That's not him my dear,” You thank the gods for that, the man was as ugly as he was terrifying. “Ser Ashford, do you come with news or have you simply entered to stare at our guest?” she asks politely, causing the man to look down towards his feet. Perhaps he was not so brutish after all considering the faint blush apparent on his cheeks.

“The King in the North sends his apologies My Lady, but he will be unable to attend, something has come up,” he states, accent thick.

“And what has come up that is more important than welcoming his wife-to-be?” Catelynn questions, her level of anger placating Visery who had loudly snapped his book shut moments earlier.

“Wife?” Ser Ashford questions looking back to you “He went to see those injured from the last battle My Lady, to aid the medics,” he replies, speaking directly to you.

“Of that I'm sure,” Catlynn punctuates, knowing he was off where he had been painstakingly stuck for the past week. “Come now Ser Ashford, shall we fetch him together? Such attractive company should not be kept waiting, don't you agree?” she queeries, the blush returning to the knights cheeks once again.

“My Lady if he is busy,” you begin, but she interjects.

“I will not allow him to disrespect you as such,”

“Amazing feat for a king to not understand the concept of time nor his own customs,” Visery mutters between his teeth as Catlynn exits the tent.

“Visery,” you scold, in a strangers camp an insult towards their king could see you both dead by morning.

Catelynn returns with a face of thunder, though she quickly masks it with a smile, not warm but not cold either. A smile of someone still trying to figure you out. She smoothes her dress before sitting down at the table, and you follow her lead, leaving Visery to judge from afar. Not five minutes later the curtains part revealing the eldest Stark.

Blood spatter had dried on his skin intermixing with the faint freckles that dusted his face. Brown curls sit atop his head, a prominent brow lifted by a steel blue gaze so sharp it cuts you to the bone when it falls on you, he was handsome, undeniably so. The fresh growth of stubble added an unexpected ruggedness to him. He was not nearly as proper and clean cut as fairytale expectations, nor as unruly and wild as Viserys description of the northmen. His eyes turn from you to Visery whose smile had dropped. Robbs gaze returns, looking down on you with disdain. You had expected disapproval but hatred was an entirely other beast. You only prayed another bout of abuse would not be coming your way.

Robbs hands raise, gesturing irritably to his mother as if to ask why he had been summoned. Catelynn's eyes bulge out, her jaw clenched evidently disapproving her son's inexcusable lack of decorum.

“I wish to thank you, My Lord” you begin, breaking the tension that clung to the air.

“Your Grace,” Robb corrects, causing you to arch your brow, slightly bemused at the pettiness.

“Robb,” Catlynn scolds

“My Lady” you interject, maintaining composure, as Robb turns back to you “I understand and I apologise, Your Grace,” you enunciate “for interrupting your duty. It is of the utmost importance to show those injured fighting for you that you have not forgotten them. I can hardly think of a more honourable reason to have been delayed, and I am not insulted in the least. I am pleased to see a leader who shows his people such care and respect. Please take your leave, I do not wish to delay you any longer,” you finish, watching as his shoulders ease as his mouth, prepared to argue further, closes.

“Am I free to go,” he asks, looking down to his mother who begrudgingly nods. She exhales as he leaves, shaking her head.

“He will soften,” she mutters.

“He need not soften, she is difficult,” Visery states, placing the book back on the shelf “A firm hand is exactly what she needs, besides they need not love each other they simply must deal with each other until Kings Landing is safely in hand.” If the Starks were looking for a reason to distrust you they would find it in Viserys words.

“And beyond that, hopefully for many years. Unless cut short Targaryen’s are long lived believe it or not,” you reply standing from the table “Lady Stark would you do me the honour of showing me the nearby woods, I fear I am in desperate need for fresh air, no matter how cold,”

“Of course, Lord Visery, please enjoy the collection of books here, may you find some use or enjoyment in them,” he nods curtley eyes looking up at the books with his chin pointed forward. You look at Jorah as you exit the tent, your eyes telling him to ensure Viserys behaviour did not surpass anything less than respectful.

“I have caused a faint trail from my own walks. I am happy to share them with someone besides my guards. The woods have helped me in recent days,” She relays as you enter the forest. The trees here were incredibly tall and dense enough to get lost forever if you did not know your way.

“They're taller than most buildings I've seen,” you remark earnestly, in awe of the beauty of the landscape surrounding you.

“They were here long before us, and will remain long after we have all gone, I hope you will come to appreciate the beauty of the cold as I have,”

“I believe I already am My Lady, frigid as it may be I have not seen this much green in my lifetime,” you relay, “Were you frightened when you learnt you were to come to Winterfell? The Starks are the only house to bear a warning after all,”

“Perhaps the only one that needs a warning,” she chuckles, “their customs are strange unlike any other I’ve encountered, more ancient. Though, fire and blood is that not also a warning,” she asks

“More a threat, perhaps a promise though I suppose the same can be said of your house, well the house you married into. Family, duty, honour, those words run through your blood Lady Stark. From the moment I met you I knew family was everything to you. Though I have never truly known family, so perhaps I am incorrect in my assumptions,” you state

“You are exceptionally well read on the houses of Westeros, though I would expect nothing less considering you learnt from the great maesters of Essos,”

“You are very kind to say so my Lady, but I must admit most of my knowledge on northern houses came as I crossed the narrow sea,”

“I offer no praise greater than I see fit, anyone capable of mastering five languages surely holds enough intelligence to adapt to new surroundings,”

“I can hardly master one language most days,” you laugh and Catelynn smiles, despite her wariness there was a sense of comfort she found in you. A sense of hope that radiated from you, one that would benefit her son and his people in the months to come as days become shorter and life harsher.

“Do you still speak valyrian?”

“Kessa,” you reply “it is my favourite, It keeps me connected to my ancestors, to my family,”

“You handled yourself well inside, I am ashamed of my son's behaviour, it is not how I raised him. I’ve never seen him like that before, not towards undeserving people,” she replies apologetically

“I have dealt with difficult men my whole life, I have dealt with bad men for times as well, I do not believe your son to be one of them. He is evidently tormented by my presence here. I only hope annoyance is not levelled to violence,” you admit.

“He is many things, stubborn and competitive, but he does not have a cruel bone in his body. He’s always been naturally protective, especially of his siblings, he came home covered in blood and bruises one day after taking on a group of boys twice his size who frightened Sansa with nothing more than a ghost story,” you see the lines on her face appear, her smile evidence of a life full of joy, happiness etched into her from time spent with her family.

“That says a lot about a man i've come to find and I hope to meet his siblings someday,” you stop in the path, taking Catelynn's hands in yours “the return of your daughters, their freedom is my priority before the throne, before vengeance, their safety comes first lady Catlynn of that I promise you,” you relay, and she inhales nodding her head, your inflection rung true, but it was not cause for trust.

“Robb will not hurt you, he may be angry now, but his bark is worse than his bite. Though if he does, even once, you find me and I will see that it never happens again,” she assures.

“Thank you My Lady, that eases my mind greatly. Would you allow me a moment to myself, I used to ride daily in the woods, but I am lacking both a horse and an ability to withstand early morning cold, and the temperature is much more favourable now”

“Of course, I will have someone to call on you in the hour, do be careful wolves roam these parts, keep an eye out for tracks,”

“Thank you My Lady, I shall,”

“You may call me Catelynn,” she offers

“Then you must call me Rhaeanya,” you reply, watching her walk back down the trail.

Catelynn turns at the forest's entrance watching as you disappear between the trees. Visery would not be the one to lead this army, the men would see through him, see his weakness. Weakness where you had strength. She admired the seemingly calm practicality you held despite your youth and supposed naivety.

You possessed a mind of your own, reading has sharpened it and made you fast on your feet, smart enough to survive in a world built for men. All the gifts that made a man a king clung to you so obviously, as it had with Rheagar, as it had with your father before his descent into madness. Where on the scale you fell she was unsure, but one thing was certain: Rheagar had not been the last dragon.

The leaves crunch beneath your feet. You inhale, gathering the sharp air into your lungs, exhaling out through your nose. You bask for a moment in the silence, but a faint blue light appears in the corner of your eye pulling your gaze deep into the woods. From the darkness you see an arm creep around a tree, fingers as long as a forearm wrapping around the bark. Stepping forward you note two yellow orbs glowing despite the brightness of the day. A twig snaps and the figure dissipates. The hood of your cloak falls as you whip around towards the sound.

“Who goes there?” you question, attempting to level the fear in your voice. “If this is another pathetic attempt at my torture Visery it is not funny, nor is very inventive considering the horrors I know you capable of,” you declare, breaths hastening as the bushes begin to rustle.

You startle back as a huge grey mass appears, larger than any predator you had seen. You straighten your back and divert your eyes looking for an escape, any escape. But you could not outrun a wolf, let alone one of this size. It walks towards you sniffing intently but its energy is entirely placid. You lift your gaze to see Robb standing between the trees. You reach your hands out slowly, allowing the wolf to sniff it, eventually resting its muzzle in your hands.

“Quite the beast you have your grace,” You state, kneeling down to come eye to eye with Greywind, “Though you look disappointed it failed to amputate my arm. I thought direwolves were long gone” you mutter.

“I thought the Targaryens were as well,” Robb grunts out.

“That was uncalled for, Your Grace,” you reply somewhat mockingly, eyes still on the Direwolf, it wasn’t often you happened upon another of a dying breed.

“If you hoped for love then you should re-evaluate your being here, it's not too late to leave,” Robb reasons

“Love? “ you laugh turning to look at him “Who said anything about love? Love is not what I seek,”

“Then why are you here?” he asks

“You think I asked to be brought to a frozen wasteland, torn away from the only place I called home? I was not brought here on my own volition my hands, like yours are tied by family and duty,” you explain standing to full height.

“Seems your family has more to gain. Charming company you keep,” he replies, calling his Direwolf to him.

“We aren’t all afforded the luxury of a large family and his ambition is no greater than yours,” You reply, your defence of Visery burning your tongue.

“Surprised he hasn’t taken you himself, considering the lineage,” he prods.

“If you wish to shock me with the atrocities of my families lineage you’ll have to do better than that,” you reply trodding up the bank, hands clutching the trees, using them to pull yourself up “if you’d done your research you would know fowler things than incest occurred during the dragon age.”

You can feel his steel grey eyes cut into you as you ascend the slope. It has been a while since you found a worthy opponent in arguments. You never had cause to bicker with the Dothraki, and Visery argued with his fists. The air was cold, and your anger at your situation made you itch for a fight, so you pushed him further.

“Who is she then?” you ask and he turns to you, hidden anger surfacing at her mention.

“Why do you plan on having her killed?” he bites.

“That’s quite the conclusion to reach after four minutes of conversation,” you relay calmly

“I wouldn’t put it past your breeding stock,” he replies tongue circling over his teeth “my mother may have forgotten what your family did to my uncle and grandfather but I have not,”

“Nor have I forgotten that your family stood by as my entire lineage was butchered in the streets,” you shoot back, eyes interlocked “Now I will excuse myself from this conversation, it seems to have reached its natural end,” you reply hitting your shoulder into his as you pass. He grabs your arm, easily spinning you back around to face him, strength greater than Viserys, but not more than Drogo.

“I will not put up with insolence,” he snarls, eyes once again boring into yours.

“If you wish to scare me back to whence I came you’ll have to try harder than the threat of violence. I’ve been hit harder by stronger men than you,” you explain calmly, before pulling yourself free, his grip loosening at your words. Though they were a lie, Visery was weak, and Drogo never violent, but you would not allow for intimidation.

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

Two days later

A banquet hall had been put up in haste, still in the throes of war, there was no need for it until now. The pristine sheets hanging along with fir branches and the last of the summer flowers were set against the blood stained soil. You glanced nervously at the structure over the past 48 hours, a dull gnawing had moved slowly throughout your body, and was currently clawing its way up your throat in an attempt to escape. By nightfall your entire body was screaming at you to cut and run.

Visery could sense your restlessness, like a horse before battle, but he had managed to keep your reigns pointed forward. The wedding dress was simple, but despite the short notice Catelynn had found a skilled hand that had taken care to weave intricate stitches along the sleeve. Dragons danced across the pale purple material, the silvers in the threads illuminating your hair, and the moonlight reflecting in your eyes.

“Do us a favour, and try not to get this husband killed,” Visery states, leading you towards the hall's entrance. “This is our last chance, no one else will have you if you fail here.”

All eyes were on you as you entered, following you as you moved towards the altar where Robb stood. All eyes save for his. You follow his gaze to a woman sitting near the back. So that was who held his heart. She could keep it for all you cared, she must know by now strategy was the only thing between you both. Candlelight warms the interior, the cold hues of the moon replaced with warm tones allowing an angelic light to settle around you.

Robb wasn’t blind, the sun had shone down on you the day you were born, a shallower man could find no flaw in you. Despite his hatred he was hard pressed to name another possessing your features, or the ability to wear them with such magnitude. He’d heard the stories of the Targaryens' beauty but he never understood why so many wrote of it until now. At another time your brashness in the woods would have intrigued him, been seen as endearing, curious even. All he could feel now was resentment, for you breaking his and Talisa's hearts. For the pain your presence caused the woman he truly loved for nothing more than a namesake, a necessary stake in a game he had started. His eyes shift to Talisa, begging for her to forgive his failures and broken promises. You looked no happier to be there. He wonders for a moment what your life had been before, what you had left behind to be here. He hardly imagined it was anything akin to his own pain.

You meet Robbs gaze for the first time since the forest. You wondered if the crowd could sense it, the hatred behind his eyes and the rage behind your own. Your old life died today, offered up for the slaughter of war. But your anger must subside if you were to be successful. Tonight you were born anew. The seven kingdoms were your families by right, and it was your duty to secure it once again, for all those dead and gone.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection” the septar declares, as you look into the grey eyes of the oncoming storm.

Robb holds the cloak firmly, the fabric bunched between his clenched fists. The fabric remains bunched as it falls on your shoulder, its warm, heavy, comforting juxtaposing the energy flowing between you and Robb.

"My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Your hand reaches out first, he takes it painstakingly. Neither of you breaking eye contact, seemingly trying to out last the other. The tension was palpable as the septar ties the rope around you both.

"Let it be known that Rhaeanya of the house Targaryen and Robb of the house Stark are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." The voice echoes in the tent. You can feel Talisa's eyes in the back of your head "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity." You prayed eternity ended at your death or his, whichever came first.

"Look upon each other and say the words", he commands eyes interlocked in a battle, jaws clenched, hands limp only held together by the customary rope. "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.”

“I am hers…”

“I am his…”

“And she is mine.”

“And he is mine”

“Until the end of my days," you finish in unison. His eyes flit back to Talisa on the final inflection.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love," Robb tilts his head, kissing your cheek, eyes meeting Talisa, securing the promise made to her. The slight was obvious to everyone in the room, he had faulted you, touted you as undesirable. Rarely did a groom fail to seal the ceremony with a true kiss. He had marked you as wrong, shown how little love he had for you.

The feast is prepared as the rope is unravelled freeing you from each other, the septar hands it back to you for safeguarding. Robb’s half way out the tent before the rope is in your hands. He had left you alone, staring out into a crowd of unfamiliar faces.

An uncharacteristic wave of shame washes over you and you lower your head, following Robb out of the hall where the men feasted and laughed, eyes looking towards you as they do. Shame evolves into anger as you walk towards the tent, culminating when the entrance flaps close before you can enter, another slight witnessed by the masses.

You remember your first wedding and the similar sense of unknowing you had felt, but Drogo had shown you respect and honoured your words and decisions. His trust and actions towards you were later matched by his men. Had you been treated differently, as you had been tonight, your place in the khalasaar would have been more precarious.

Drogo showed his people what you meant to him, that you were one of them and that they would respect and fear you because they respected and feared him. Robb, whether intentional or not, had endangered you. You lift your head, no man, no matter how poorly dealt his hand in life was, would make you feel small. He did not have that right over you.

Finding the courage you had once had, sitting atop horseback alongside Drogo, you enter the tent preparing to fight for yourself, knowing no one else would. The hearth flickers as you enter. Illuminating Robbs' figure in the dark, you watch as he removes his gloves, undoing the strings on his shirt from the chair he sits in.

“Shall we get this over with,” he questions pulling off his boots

‘Get what over with?’ you spit, the tone enough to draw his gaze. Angelic features from the hall transformed under the fires glow. The warm hues reflecting the shadows of your face, revealing a danger not previously evident. ‘You will not touch me tonight or any night to come for the entirety of this contract that is our political arrangement’

He shifts up in his chair, eyes staring daggers at your rebuttal to his actions. Evidently he had expected you to be docile and gratefully accept the embarrassment he had bestowed upon you. You doubt he had ever been spoken to in such a manner, seen consequences of poor behaviour.

“Do you understand me? Breed your heir somewhere else I will not birth a child from such a hateful, dishonourable man,” you continue, tone level, atmosphere thunderous.

‘Dishonourable?’ he challenges.

‘Tonight you have embarrassed me in the most public of ways, not only have you marked me as something you are ashamed of, but as something disposable. To you, your family and the men you lead. You presented me as small and pitiful, speaking to my character when you had no right to do so,”

“Perhaps I didn’t wish to be associated with feral inbreds,” he shoots back, pulling his boots back on

‘I have no care for your good opinion, but they fight for you and die for you! They take your lead and you have shown them they can treat me like dirt. If you expect anyone in king's landing to back the Targaryen’s ascent to the throne they will not follow one deemed weak and worthless, as you have just made me out to be. I know you think me unimportant, but your family bartered this marriage for a reason,”

“My mother bartered this arrangement” he shouts standing to his feet, “My father…”

“Your father spared me and my brother, gave us a chance to live, on more than one…”

“My father hated the Targaryen’s,” he pushes, angered by his own petulant tone. He watches as you pull out the letter sent by Eddard to Catelynn, where he confessed to saving you the day he stormed Kings Landing.

“He was a good man,” you begin, as Robb shakes his head. “Not only was he honourable, but moral to the highest count. After his death your mother knew she needed a claim to the throne and unfortunately for us, I was the only way. Well myself or Visery and thank the gods your sisters were spared from him. You have the north, that is evident, but the iron throne you have no birth right to, so there will always be a reason for uprising. Always a reason for Lannister push back. If you want your sisters returned, anda free north then you need us, just as much as we need your army,”

“I need you,” he laughs maliciously, tossing the note to the side ‘If you think you can threaten me into loving you’ his words stop at the sound of your laugh.

‘You may think me silly and stupid but the notion of love is lost to me. I do not expect love from this situation. I am not some silly girl dreaming of princes rescuing me. I have seen skin melt off a man’s face, tongues ripped from throats, I have endured violations you will never understand so do not think for one second I am someone to be walked over, and made a fool. No love was never expected, what was… what was expected, was a respectful and honourable person as I had heard was as true of you as it was of your father. Evidently Jorah was mistaken. You are no different than any other power hungry, war mongering, would be king who takes pleasure in belittling those he deems not worthy.”

“You have no right to speak about my father like you knew him, after what your family did. I should have married Talisa when I still had the chance,”

“And I wish you had, by the gods I wish you had. Sleep with whoever you please, be in love with whomever you please I encourage it for you will not find it with me, not in this life time and certainly not in the next,” finally you exhale

“Is that all My Lady,” he punctuates sarcastically.

“Yes that is all, Your Grace,” you spit back, as he walks towards you, undeterred by your stare.

“Good, I have more pleasant business to attend to,” he whispers in your ear before exiting the tent.

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