#Tw mentions of past self sacrifice

[weaverpop]

I would think one possible bad fight would be about MKs sacrifice, and him possibly doing it again.

Mk is reckless with his own life, and he loves friends and family more then he could love himself, it's where his over protectivness stems from. (That and his self sacrificial nature is probably programmed into him by nature, fucking thanks nuwa. The THE ONE mother figure mk has and she had to be the one that fucks up a perfectly good child)

Nezha may be immortal but mk would still actually jump in front of a blade for him without hesitation.

Tw mentions of past and attempted self sacrifice

This works very well, afterall Nezha would do the exact same thing because he shares a similar mentality. You don’t just sacrifice yourself for your family without having some issues.

This would come to a head at a terrible time, mid battle with a demon! Mk and Nezha both struggling early on in their relationship, pre-therapy, wanting to protect the other while also bringing down the big bad. Nezha might take a blow that was meant for Mk, and Mk freaks.

He and Nezha get into it. Nezha isn’t that hurt, mostly bruised, but Mk is absolutely losing his mind over the fact that his beloved just got hurt because of him.

Then you have Nezha who is trying to talk to his bf, but mk won’t listen, and they progressively get louder and louder. Until it reaches a point where Mk and Nezha are screaming at eachother in the middle of the battle field, and the fighting just… stops, because nobody has seen either of them get like this. The demon akwardly apologies to the others and leaves because damn this is awkward.

But the two idiots don’t notice, they just keep up the screaming match. Until Nezha has enough, and tells Mk in no uncertain terms that this shit isn’t going to work. He’s a celestial warrior, he can hold his own, and he doesn’t need to be coddled. Mk tries argues that he just wants to protect Nezha, but Nezha stands firm.

They don’t talk for a month.

Nezha is miserable during that time, and Jing teaches him the wonders of growing your sorrows in (strawberry) ice cream and crying into the pillows.

Mk in the other hand is left to think, and with some encouragement form ye others, decides to seek therapy with Sandy. It’s not easy, and the whole month without Nezha is agonizing, but Mk is determined to improve himself before he asks Nezha out again.

After a month, Nezha’s absence was strong enough to motivate Mk to reach out. Nezha was hesitant, but accepted a simple picnic date “to talk”.

It was by far, the most sweetest thing. Picknic basket full of all of Nezha’s favorites, a pretty strawberry themed blanket, and quiet spot outside the city where no one could see them.

They chatted for a bit, akwardly feeling things out, until Mk comes out and apologizes to Nezha for all the hovering. He akwardly explains that he just didn’t want Nezha to get hurt, and that he never saw the Prince as incompetent. That seeing Nezha hurt, even if a bit, was like lighting a fire. But he also apologies for overstepping boundaries, and acknowledges that he is working on the problem.

Nezha himself apologizes as well, aware that he had similar reactions in the past to Mk taking blows for him. He also apologizes for causing such a big blow out about it in public instead of privately, but Mk insisted it was fine, and that it was the wake up call he needed.

Nezha def cries when Mk asked if he’d still be his precious strawberry, and Mk nearly cried when Nezha agreed.

This isn’t the last time, but it’s def a big step in their relationship.

[enden-k]

𝔸𝕄𝕐𝔾𝔻𝔸𝕃𝔸 ℕ𝔸𝕍𝕀

(trying to update whenever theres smth new)

the story is about vika, a human who is basically not existing to anyone due to his sickness, and saran, a vengeful spirit shackled to the world due to the circumstances of his death, and their deep love for each other. saran devours eyes and other fears so general warning for many eyes/eye contact and upcoming eye horror (everything will be tagged as such and warnings will always be given) vika contemplated suicide and practiced self-harm in the past, tws are always given if its brought up or appears in flashbacks

MAIN: (top right → bottom left)

1 /

SIDE: ("bonus", or extras that happen(ed) at different times than main)

• a ghost's touch (tw for vikas suicide contemplation) • flashback - office nap

ART:

• elite 9 character files • elite 9 fear contracts • saranvika random facts n stuff (vika self-harm mention) • first doodles/sketches • memes • saranvika doodles: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 (tw eyes/eye contact) / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 • requests: 1 / 2 • saran and azai (present)

LORE: (explanations abt the story/world etc)

• "fears", amygdala and fear seekers • fear contracts • tiny bit about azai and his feelings for saran • explanation to "a ghost's touch"; vikas suicide contemplation (tw for that), meeting saran, the difference of their contract compared to usual fear contracts, and the exchanges/sacrifices made to control the unseen • some numbers n ages • tiny bit about suyo • fear contracts vs saranvika contract • saran and vikas love and relationship • a little bit more about azai • a little bit more more about azai and his feelings for saran • a little bit about how sarans many-eyes work • some stuff about saran and his tentacles (arms): 1 / 2 • map of the 10 regions + birthplaces/important locations as of now • vikas life expectancy • a little bit more about sarans many-eyes and tattoos: 1 / 2 • a bit about the side effects of fear contract/tool use

ETC: (asks, random rambles, etc)

• amygdala = fear contract sugar daddy • saran being protective • vika and food • saranvika and halloween • saran likes to do that and it grounds vika greatly (better explained than i could) • saran is a menace. more at 11 • vika and weighted blankets/the meaning of weight/pressure for him • i cant stfu abt saranvikas deep love for each other • vikas eternal struggle with paperwork, thanks to noah • saran and azais one of many differences ramble • its 11. saran is still a menace • not going to link it bc its on my nsfw blog but vika is a big cuddler (he enjoys being the little spoon) by nature, its like he can never get enough of feeling saran. hes also v sensitive bc of the whole unable to feel touch except for saran/never felt others touches and gets flustered • trust • elite 9 about saranvika relationship • saranvika and (horror)movies • vika and sarans eye • vika and smoking • saran and his feelings about the afterlife • elite 9 and their birthplaces • saran and food (no, not eyes but human food) • saranvika and some cute relationship things they do

• saran, his negative energy and nightmares • sarans gentle face hold and vikas full body cuddles • saranvikas dynamic ramble • sarans gentle face hold vs azais possessive grip (warning for descriptive injury/sarans death) • vika and smoking 2 • is saran jealous? • does saran show himself to others? • sarans first name + hidden cult mark • cat or dog person? • some more random questions (fav flowers etc) • what if saran and vika had kids <3

• playlist (always updating) • FANART!!! 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

OCTOPLUSHIE ADVENTURES: (it got its own section 🐙)

• the beginning of an unusual rivalry • saran is not prone to jealousy......BUT • saran and taking responsibility • the rival in all its glory (and similarity)

"REVERSE" AU (alive!saran/fear!vika)

• story • doodles: 1

[ficmenrhot]

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!

————————————

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.”

——————————————————————

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 ;)

[cannedpickledpeaches]

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.”

[bbcphile]

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.

[valley0fstorms]

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. 

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

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.

[yourlocalspiderwoman]

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.

[lottiepumpkinofficial]

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

[weaverpop]

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!

[butwhatifidothis]

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

[serickswrites]

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)

[melonminnie]

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)

[whump-world]

Self-Sacrifice

BET

(TW: mentions of past torture, manhandling, blood, broken bones, a little bit of throwing up)

Whumper 1 thinks it would have been smarter to leave with whumpee. Just remove his tie, leave his gun at the doorstep, and vanish without a trace. Leave the pulled-out teeth and rusted manacles behind.

But of course, everything comes at a price, and there is a huge price to pay when it comes to whumpee.

Anyone with half a brain cell would know to keep their distance from their captive. It's common sense. Whumper 1 thumps his closed fist on his forehead. Fucking common sense.

"What did you do?" whumper 2 yells. After realizing there's no way he can go after whumpee within the hour, his anger, like molten lava, spills out. "You've ruined everything." He throws the first thing he picks up. A hammer.

Whumper 1 flinches away. He'd been resting with his back against the locked garage door. He curses under his breath since cutting whumper 2's path also meant trapping himself in the garage.

Sweating and panting, he tastes oil in the back of his throat. There's no way out but through. He curls up to cover his head while keeping a wrench hidden inside his jacket.

Whumper 2 is already thumping around and finds a pair of pliers.

It hits its mark square on Whumper 1's shoulder, hard enough to rattle the metal door behind him. He screams. On all fours, his screams turn into gags and gasps as he holds his shoulder close. Adrenaline fueled by desperation makes his knees scrape across cement and move. As if there's anywhere to run.

Choking on spit and blood (and maybe both), whumper 1 is hauled up by the hair.

"I did not know you could be this damn stupid," whumper 2 says.

"It wasn't right," whumper 1 rasps. Stupid. He is damn stupid. Whumpee never even looked back. "You made me do it."

"Fell in love with him, did ya, lover boy?"

Whumper 1 shoots him a disgusted look. It morphs into pain when his throat is punched.

"Don't look at me like that. After what you did? Naww." Whumper 2 is quick to seize the wrench that he'd been trying to hide valiantly, blood making his hands slippery. "Is this what you used on whumpee? I'm guessing you want to keep it, as some trophy. Or maybe a future Valentine's day gift? Now, that's an idea."

"Maybe—" he coughs, much to whumper 2's amusement." Maybe I smash your—"

Whumper 2 hammers the wrench into his shoulder. "Couldn't catch what you're mumbling there, bud. Speak up."

Whumper 1's lungs constrict, shying away from the pain. His eyes flutter shut, but whumper 2 is having none of it.

"Hello?" he smacks his cheek. Then cringes at the blood smeared on his fingers. He shakes his head. "I shouldn't have let a moron like you be in charge of whumpee. That's my fault. But goddamn, you actually," he bangs whumpee 1's head on the door, "went ahead and," another shove, "let them escape." The bangs that followed could have killed whumper 1.

As soon as he is let go, whumper 1 cradles his head. The numbness spreading on his nape can't be good. And he's not stupid enough to lay there and wait for whumper 2 to keep going. He starts to crawl away the moment whumper 2 gets up.

"Where do you think you're going? Your little noble sacrifice cost me a lot," whumper 2 kicks him in the chest. "You're gonna fucking die here."

[thehandworld]

Emi's AI-Less Whumptober Masterlist!

Prompts and Rules can be found here Thank you for @ailesswhumptober for putting this together! All the drabbles are with only one Character: Gokudera Hayato. A few others appear from time to time, depending on the need of it. The prompts used are in bold. The drabble to said prompt is a link in the day. The ship is specified as platonic, if nothing is specified then it's romantic.

October 1 - public torture/public use, stress position, “If you cry, we’ll go easy on you.”

Word Count: 536 TW: Torture, Sexual Abuse

October 2 - Unfortunate fall, car accident, “Don’t move. You’ll be okay.”

Word Count: 894 TW: Naked body without sexual context, Description of wounds.

October 3 - Shared trauma, survivor’s guilt, “It’s not your fault.”

Ship: 1859 BECAUSE I COULD! Word Count: 1162 TW: Hospital

October 4 - Painful transformation, non-consensual body modifications, “You’re a monster.”

Word Count: 519 TW: Minor Character Death, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Body Modification (Implied)

October 5 - Overstimulation, migraines, “I can’t take this anymore.”

Word Count: 643

October 6 - Multiple whumpees, self sacrifice, “I’m the only one who can do this.”

Ship: 1859 BECAUSE I COULD! Word Count: 616 TW: Major Character Death

October 7 - Field medicine, running out of supplies, “Hold on, we’re going to have to improvise.”

Word Count: 529 TW: Loss of Limb

October 8 - Rope burns, gagged, “You’re so much prettier this way.”

Word Count: 522 TW: Blood and Torture

October 9 - Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.”

Word Count: 621

October 10 - Self worth issues, pushing away a loved one, “You don't need to earn this.”

Ship: 5927 Word Count: 1007 TW: Major Character Death - Following Canon, Tsuna dies in the future.

October 11 - Hallucinations, truth serum, “Why would you even say that?”

Ship: past - 8059 Word Count: 1102

October 12 - Isolation, sensory deprivation, “Can you feel me? I’m right here, whumpee.”

Ship: Platonic 9659 Word Count: 1215 Dual POV

October 13 - Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”

Word Count: 744 TW: Violence

October 14 - Seizures, concussion, “See if you can follow my finger with your eyes.”

Ship: Platonic 1859 Word Count: 1054 TW: Blood

October 15 - Waterboarding, removing body parts, “Don’t break down on me yet.”

Ship: Platonic 1859 Word Count: 935 TW: Violence

October 16 - Drowning, hostile environment, “I don’t know how anybody could survive that.”

Ship: Platonic 1859 Word Count: 953 TW: Mention of Assassination

October 17 - Abandonment, misunderstanding, “Why did I even think you cared?”

Word Count: 642 TW: Pet Training Reference, Kidnapping

October 18 - Mind control, possession, “Everybody will end up despising you.”

Word Count: 698

October 19 - Disassociation, losing a sense, “I wish I could get you back.”

Ship: Romantic 1859 Word Count: 890

October 20 - Enemy/Stranger to caretaker, accidental de-aging, “I’m absolutely not qualified for this shit.”

Ship: Romantic 8059 Word Count: 778 TW: Major Character Death, Violence

October 21 - Drugged, ambulance ride, “This will make you feel better, okay?”

Word Count: 751 TW: Drugs

October 22 - Forced (to kneel/watch/hurt somebody else), whipped, “Do not look away.”

Ship: Platonic 5927 Word Count: 1088 TW: Major Character Death, Violence

October 23 - Fever, passing out, “Hey?! Stay with me, okay?!”

Ship: One-sided 1859 Word Count: 1074

October 24 - Deconditioning, relapse, “It’s normal that you need more time.”

Ship: Romantic 8059 Word Count: 1149 TW: Mention of Sex, Trauma

October 25 - Humiliation, betrayal, “How could you?!”

Ship: Romantic 1859 Word Count: 947

October 26 - Electrocution, burning, “This is going to sting.”

Word Count: 634 TW: Torture

October 27 - Before vs after, Alternate universe, “Well, there’s a first for everything.”

Word Count: 454 TW: Mention of Sexual Abuse, Torture

October 28 - Internal bleeding, needles and stitches, “I didn’t think the wound was that bad…”

Word Count: 422 TW: Needles and Stitches, Violence

October 29 - Ownership, branding, “Everybody will know that you’re mine.”

Word Count: 706 TW: Branding, Torture

October 30 - Poison, delirium, “You’re not making sense.”

Word Count: 620

October 31 - Panic attack, facing a phobia, “You need to get out of here!”

Ship: 1859 BECAUSE I COULD! Word Count: 701

Alt prompts:

Pistol whipped Ship: 8059 Word Count: 322

Co-dependency Ship: 1859 Word Count: 805 TW: Emotional Abuse

Animal bite Word Count: 279 TW: Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Child Abuse, Animal bite

Zombies Ship: 1859 Word Count: 427 TW: Major Character Death

White room torture Word Count: 945 TW: Mental Torture Continuation Ship: Platonic 6959 Word Count: 907

Shock collar Ship: 1859 Word Count: 838 TW: Violence

Pulling teeth Word Count: 417 TW: Torture Continuation from October 8th

Kidnapping Word Count: 479 TW: Kidnapping

“You always make everything worse!” Word Count: 700 TW: Verbal Abuse

“If you weren’t around, I’d be long dead by now...” Ship: 5996 Word Count: 596 TW: Major Character Death

[hopefulatrocity]

From The Ashes- Chapter 5

Notes: Daryl and Pheonyx finally see each other! They don’t talk yet, not until after Daryl’s POV which is next chapter. I really needed to go in depth with their first sights of each other before moving to their interactions. I’m super excited for Daryl’s POV. There’s lots of denial and internal homophobia but it also will give you an idea of Daryl as a person(At least how I view him as). Also, in regards to Pheonyx’s descriptions of himself and how parts of himself cause him to be misgendered, this is just how it has been for me in the past. Flaired hips and stuff like that are not an indicator for Gender!! But unfortunately things like that are how people “decide” what gender to label people as usually. It’s in now way right, but it’s how I as a trans person have to look at myself in order to try to be properly gendered with strangers. 

Taglist: @yoongibaybee​

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @omiyours 

Banner by: @liminal-creations​ 

Chapter CW/TW: PTSD, anxiety, self-doubt, internal transphobia, mentions of past abuse/trauma, internal homophobia/biphobia 

Prev Next

The night was long and Pheonyx was tired. He barely slept most nights anyways, but the stress was what was draining him the most. That and the 2 units of blood he donated the day before.  He was worried about Carl. Although the boy was doing better since his surgery, the risk of infection and complications were still prevalent. Especially considering there was no access to modern medical amenities. He was worried about the Shadows reaching the farm. With the weakness from donating so much blood and the constant anxiety coursing through his veins, going out to clear the woods and traps would have been suicide. He was worried about all the new people coming to the farm. The four men already set him on edge. Lori wasn’t a problem. Women rarely made his fight-or-flight response trigger. Outwardly, the men seemed nice, especially Rick and Glenn, but that didn’t mean anything. The darkest demons always had the bright faces of angels. The one who really worried him was Shane. After informing him of Carl’s successful surgery, Rick had given him the condensed version of what happened at the FEMA center when he walked in the house at sunrise. He said Otis told Shane to run, that he would provide cover, but the shadows had gotten him. Pheonyx knew it was a crock of shit though.  Otis was definitely the type to sacrifice himself to save a boy’s life, but Shane came back with Otis’s gun, he had seen it laid on the counter in the house. How did the older man lay cover fire without his weapon? Shane was lying about something. Pheonyx kept his theories to himself, though. He knew if he told Hershel, his stepfather  would insist on kicking all the new people out. Despite his anxiety with the strangers, his conscience couldn’t handle being the catalyst to throw out a group of people into the world as it was. It would be a death sentence.

He was worried about the little girl that was missing. Those woods were his home and he knew them better than anyone else in the family. Which means he knew how dangerous they could be. A scared little girl running around with no known survival experience? With shadows wandering around waiting to eat any living thing that crosses their path? Her likelihood of survival was small.  If he hadn’t needed to stick around to provide blood for Carl, he would have spent the night searching for her. He wanted to leave at first light, but Rick insisted he wait until the rest of the group got to the farm. Apparently they had a proficient tracker in their group, and the sheriff wanted both of them–and Kismet– to lead the search for the girl. It made sense but that didn’t keep Pheonyx’s skin from itching with the need to leave before more bodies invaded the farm.

His issues with strangers stemmed from many different things. When he was younger, after his mother had removed him from his abusive father’s clutches, he avoided new people like the plague. How could he trust anyone when the person he was supposed to trust most in the world had torn his body and mind apart? It took years for him to open up to anyone outside his family. All the progress he made, in regards to his fear of strangers, was destroyed when he turned 22 and ended up in the hospital, clinging to life and broken inside. 6 years later, even after leaving Georgia and seeking counseling, he hadn’t shaken the fear that coursed through his veins when he had to interact with new people. It wasn’t social anxiety. It was fear of being hurt. Fear of being outed. Fear of someone finding out he was trans and hurting him again. Fear of the invisible dirt that still clung to his skin sometimes. Fear of being used and being helpless. Fear of being destroyed. The world falling apart didn’t help matters. He was even more fearful of other survivors. The will to survive was a powerful motivator and good people rarely made it out on top. People who were willing to destroy, pillage, and hurt were the ones who lived.

Despite his fear, Pheonyx was currently leaning on the railing of the front porch as he waited for the other members of the group to arrive. His eyes were focused on the dirt road that led to the house. Sweat was already forming on his brow, a sign that the day was going to be sweltering. Pheonyx opted to dress coolly, a simple pair of men’s jeans–that were frayed and dirty at the knees from his frequent hunting trips– and a gray tank top. The tank top was for comfort but also to make himself look more masculine to the newcomers. Being misgendered was a huge fear of his. This was rural Georgia, the reactions of people figuring out his gender could be violent. So, he wanted to appear as “manly” as he could. Pheonyx was lean and he couldn’t help the flair of his hips that was often deemed “feminine”. The softness to his jaw and the roundness of his backside were also causes of his being misgendered. But the tank top allowed his muscled arms–covered in intricate art– to be exposed. Farm work and bow-hunting had shaped his tanned biceps perfectly. They weren’t massive but watching the muscles flex and the tattoos on his arm move was very affirming. The flatness of his chest also helped his gender euphoria. He needed the edge of that euphoria to get through this meeting. Along with the masculine clothing, he adorned himself with his weapons. He had his bow and quiver slung across his shoulder. The heavy weight of the cutlass and Glock on his hips provided him a small amount of comfort in the moment. He also had a hunting knife sheathed next to the gun.

Pheonyx wasn’t the only one waiting for the others. While Rick, Lori, and Hershel were inside with Carl, everyone else was outside in the front yard. Glenn and T-Dog were conversing quietly but everyone from the Greene farm was quiet. Most were still in shock over the loss of Otis. He did catch Maggie sending careful glances over to the young Asian man and had to stop himself from smiling a bit. Unlike Shawn, Pheonyx wasn’t the overprotective big brother. He encouraged his sister to date and form connections. Which was slightly hypocritical considering he avoided dating and relationships like the plague. He lied to Maggie about going on dates. He didn’t want her to worry about him, but the pain from 6 years ago still had a deep grip on his heart. And he couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone. He had hookups, only with women, never cis men. But even those were few and far between. Love was something Pheonyx wanted, but the initial hurdle of letting someone behind his barriers was the problem.

Kismet–who had been snoring on the porch next to Pheonyx– was the first to hear the caravan of vehicles. Ears perked, he leapt to his feet and his tail began to wag. Despite the plethora of scars from abuse on his speckled body, the pup loved people. Training him to guard had been a bitch. Anytime Pheonyx had Jimmy attempt to attack him, Kismet had jumped into the fray, thinking it was a cuddle game. Eventually the training had set in, but the dog was still entirely too trusting. While he was happy his dog had recovered from the mental scars he’d endured as a puppy, Pheonyx still worried that his love for people might get him hurt one day. He realized he was projecting his own anxieties on the dog but he couldn’t help but worry.

The loud rumble of a motorcycle drowned out the noise of the other vehicles, a large RV and a silver sedan. T-Dog made his way inside to let Rick, Lori, and Hershel know that the rest of the group had arrived. Pheonyx straightened, body tensing, as he watched the vehicles approach. His eyes were drawn to the motorcycle leading the group through the gates near the house. Even at that distance, his green eyes connected with ones the color of the Georgia sky.

The vehicles all parked and the man on the motorcycle stopped closest to the house. Pheonyx nearly tripped coming down the porch steps as he got a good look at the rider dismounting the bike. The man looked like he hadn’t showered in awhile and his gaze had a hard edge to it, but he was still the hottest man Pheonyx had ever seen. He was definitely older than Pheonyx’s 28yrs, with a few crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Short brown hair, perfectly tousled, surrounded a sharp face. Light stubble lined his jaw and his goatee framed soft-looking, pink lips. There were a few gray hairs speckled through the facial hair.  A small mole at the corner of his upper lips stood out from the light hair surrounding it. Dragging his gaze from the man’s face, his eyes settled on the man’s arms. The sleeves of his plaid shirt had been ripped off, and Pheonyx wanted to thank whatever god there was for that. It should be a sin to cover up arms that look that good. Dirt and sweat helped highlight every ridge and bulge of the firm muscles. They weren’t the kind of muscles that one gained by lifting weights for hours in a gym, these had been formed by hard work and real life strain. The man’s clothes weren’t form-fitting but Pheonyx could still see he was toned all over. Before that moment, Pheonyx had questioned if he was really bisexual. He wondered if his attraction to men was more jealousy, wanting to be them, as opposed to wanting them romantically or sexually. This man answered that question. He was definitely attracted to men. This man in particular. The man grabbed a crossbow from the back of his motorcycle and held it in his rough-looking hands. Masculine energy absolutely poured off of him  and Pheonyx wanted to be on the receiving end of that energy. He wanted the man to press him up against–

Pheonyx nearly jumped out of his skin when Maggie touched his shoulder. She had moved to his side at some point. “I think I found your dark, mysterious archer.”, she whispered in her brother’s ear with a small smile. “Close your mouth, Nyx. You’re practically drooling.”

Pheonyx shut his mouth, his face turning a bright red, and used the back of his hand to check that he didn’t actually have any drool on his face. The man’s eyes had drifted from his when he was dismounting the bike, but they met his again. Pheonyx’s heart, that had been racing from anxiety about the new people, was now racing for a different reason. Heat flushed his whole body and a light throbbing began between his legs. Shame filled his heart and he averted his own eyes from the blue ones that captivated him.

What am I thinking? There’s a little girl missing, Otis is dead, and there are dead people walking around. Now is not the time to be lusting after a guy who is most likely straight, Pheonyx thought. A darker voice, one that he always dreaded hearing, pushed to the forefront of his mind. Even if he wasn’t, why would he want to be with someone like you? You’re just pretending to be a man, just like those demons said–

The dark memories tried to push their way into his head, but he pushed them to the back of his mind. He was drawn from his thoughts when Kismet whined at his side, the dog was practically crawling out of his skin with need to go meet the new people. Pheonyx snapped his fingers to make the dog sit. He wasn’t sure if the people would want a 70lb dog rubbing all over them first thing. Besides the incredibly hot man, there was an older man adorned in a Hawaiian shirt and a bucket fishing hat, a woman with short gray hair, and a younger woman with longer blonde hair. The older man radiated energy that reminded Pheonyx of his Grandpops. That man didn’t have a mean bone in his body and his soul was much too good for the world. The woman with the short gray hair held her arms around her body, as if holding herself together, and he guessed this was the missing girl’s mother. Her eyes glinted with sadness but she held her head high. The younger blonde woman was a bit harder to read but she held her back rigid, trying to appear taller than she was. Pheonyx knew that she was avoiding some kind of pain, putting up a facade of strength.

Lori and Rick came out of the house, Hershel and T-Dog following behind them. The parents were much more relaxed today, and the color had returned to both of their faces. Although, Rick was still a bit pale from donating blood. Approaching the couple first, the man in the fishing hat had a look of concern on his face.

“How is he?”, he addressed Rick.

“He’ll pull through.” Lori smiled lightly and her arm brushed her husband’s, “Thanks to Hershel and his people.”, she looked at each of the Greene family, her eyes stopping on Pheonyx’s form. Gratitude poured from her hazel orbs.

“And Shane”, Rick cut in. “We’d have lost Carl if not for him.”

Everyone looked at the man hanging in the back. His black curls were gone now, shaved to the scalp after he returned with the supplies for Carl. Clothes much too big for his frame hung from him like a blanket. Patricia had obviously loaned some of Otis’s clothes to him, and a roll of anger filled Pheonyx’s stomach. Everyone sent nods and looks of appreciation to the man. Everyone except Pheonyx, of course. He knew the truth. Or suspected it, at least.

“We owe a lot to Pheonyx too. He donated blood. Gave Carl time until Shane could get back with the supplies.”, Rick continued and looked at him. Just like his wife, the sheriff’s eyes leaked waves of thanks.

All eyes turned to Pheonyx, including a pair of icy blue ones, and he had to stop from physically recoiling. He kept his eyes downcast and busied himself with scratching Kismet’s head. The dog was still shaking with excitement and appreciated the touch. Maggie reached out and placed a comforting hand on his back, noticing her brother’s anxiety.

From there, hugs of relief were exchanged in the group. Pheonyx released Kismet from his sit command and warned him not to jump on people. The pup went up to each of the new people, butting their legs with his blocky head in greeting. Smiles lit up dirty faces and Pheonyx felt a sense of pride, knowing that his dog could bring a bit of happiness to people who were experiencing a plethora of hardship. Kismet’s wiggly body went from the young blonde woman, to the woman with short gray hair, to the man in the fishing hat. Each one of them gave him a head scratch and body pat. Lastly, the dog ended up in front of the man with the crossbow. Pheonyx tensed a bit. Yes, the man was incredibly hot. But he also was very gruff and had a hard edge to his energy. Pheonyx didn’t want him to be angered by a rambunctious dog. But his worry was for naught. The man wasn’t as open with his affection for the dog, but there was a whisper of a smile at the edges of his lips. He dropped one of his hands from his crossbow and let Kismet sniff the dirty digits. Taking it as an open invitation, the pup rubbed his head against the man’s large hand. Thick fingers deftly scratched behind his soft, floppy ears and a look of bliss filled Kismet’s chocolate brown eyes. Pheonyx couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the attention Kismet was getting from the man. He would kill to have those calloused fingers scratching behind his own ear.

“We’re about to have the service for Otis. If your people would like to attend, they’re welcome to.”, Hershel said to everyone before leading Beth, Jimmy, Patricia, and Maggie towards the copse of trees where they decided to place a marker for the deceased man. With the FEMA center being overrun, there was no chance of getting Otis's body back for a burial. So early that morning, Jimmy and Glenn had started a large rock pile as a memorial for the man who gave his life to save Carl’s.

Everyone gathered around the tribute. Choosing to stand a few feet away from the service, Pheonyx quietly told Kismet to sit and placed his hand on the dog’s head, more for his comfort than Kismet’s. The only sounds around them were the sniffling from Beth and Patricia, and the whistling of the trees as a light breeze blew through the farm.

Hershel pulled out his bible, the one his father had handed down to him, and began to recite some verses. Each person, even those from Rick’s group, took turns placing rocks onto Otis’s memorial. Pheonyx tuned it all out, choosing to stare out into the field, watching the tree line to make sure none of the dead snuck up on them. He was only brought back to reality when Hershel asked Shane to share Otis’s last moments. The man protested, panic filling his brown eyes. But Patricia pleaded with him, wanting him to reassure her that Otis’s death had meaning. Pheonyx had to hand it to the man, he did have a way with words. His voice was very reminiscent of a football coach, giving an inspirational speech before a homecoming game. Pheonyx knew he was lying though. He was too detailed. Focusing on small details too much. People who go through extreme trauma like that don’t remember the small details. He sounded like he was reading from a newspaper article. Feeling his anger rise, Pheonyx sneered and turned his head so no one could see his reaction.

Carl and Sophia, think of them. Pheonyx thought and took a deep breath. If Hershel finds out Shane is lying, he will throw the group off the farm.

The only thing he was grateful for was that Patricia was placated by Shane’s words. She was wiping her tears and smiling as Shane placed a rock on top of the pile. Hershel had everyone bow their head in a brief moment of silence for the deceased man. With everyone’s eyes averted, Pheonyx took that moment to step forward and grab a rock from the wheelbarrow. The dirt from it smeared on his hand. The weight of the rock symbolic of his grief, Pheonyx placed the stone on top of the memorial. Those few seconds were all he allowed himself to feel the pain from losing Otis. He didn’t have enough room in his heart for more and a sense of foreboding told him that this was only the first of a long line of deaths yet to come. 

Prev Next