#description of violence

[herarcadewasteland]

Happy Death Day VI

A/N: Purge night. (its been months since ive had the motivation to add to my doc but ive done iiit!)

-SKZ x reader

18+. MDNI THIS IS YOUR WARNING

mature content, violence etc. its the purge. skz lowkey yandere. descriptions of violence and injury. (do proceed with caution for this one, reader goes through it)

----

prev. - next.

previously on happy death day;

“Oh little bunny~”, his tone was condescending, mocking you as you stumbled away from him, “You’ll need to run faster if you don’t want me to catch you~”

Your steps stuttered, arms flailing to stop yourself from falling until you righted your steps, turning away from his dark eyes as he laughed, head thrown back and eyes closed until it snapped forward, eyes narrowed on your retreating figure. 

“And believe me, you really don’t want that.”, Jeongin called after you, his steps slowing slightly as his whistling picked up again, the song burned into your brain as a source of fear. 

Your fear increased ten-fold as he began singing, your heart stopping as his voice reached you. It caused conflicting emotions. The beauty of his voice made you want to stop and listen but as the lyrics registered, you wanted to simultaneously curl up in a ball and cry yourself to sleep and never wake up.

“Run, run for your life.”

-----

And run you did. Your legs worked as fast as they could, pain shooting through every inch of your being as you struggled to keep a pace fast enough that you felt progress in getting away. His pace stayed consistent as you glanced back at him, his smirk never faltering as he filled the night air with his voice. Your body ached with each step, his shadow growing as you stumbled slightly, arms flailing once again to stop yourself from face planting on the sidewalk for the second time. 

“Bunny, you really need to speed up~ Don’t worry. You get one more chance.”, Jeongin’s voice was dark and loud in your ear, his hands planting on your shoulders as he spoke. 

You froze instantly, your ears blocking every sound from your head as you tried to focus on ignoring the pain. So focused you hadn’t even seen him catching up to you easily as he walked quietly despite glancing back at him a few times. A sharp gasp pulled from your lungs as he shoved you forwards lightly, his voice surrounding you as you shook on the spot. 

“I’d start running again before I decide to not be so nice. Jinnie wouldn’t be too happy with you either then~”

He was mocking you. A laughing lilt to his words as he watched you shake. It angered you, your body turning on the spot to raise your hand and deliver a punch as powerful as you could manage to his stupidly pretty face. The force was enough to have his head turning slightly, your hand lighting up with pain as you stumbled away from him. The growl that followed you had you shivering, the sound matching Hyunjin’s own in danger as you turned to look back at him briefly.

His jaw was clenching and unclenching as his head shook slowly, fluffy hair following the movements as his eyes met yours. Eye contact was a mistake, you decided, the darkness that grew deeper in his eyes taking over the last spot of empathy and compassion you had seen glittering in them before you had the nerve to punch him in the face. 

His following laugh echoed in your skull past the other purge noises, his eyes trained on yours even though they narrowed with his forced smile. Your eyes caught movement to the side of you, but the second you turned, a loud bang caused your ears to ring. The sudden pain in your already wounded shoulder forcing you to your knees with the impact. Your eyes watered immediately, hands trembling as they reached for the new wound as the ringing slowly faded, a harsh laugh from the general direction of your driveway sending a new wave of chills through you.

Watery eyes glancing over, you took in Hyunjin and Chan standing under your porch lights with dark looks on their faces, Hyunjin holding his pistol in an outstretched hand. Aimed in your direction. A spark of disbelief flew through you before a hand hit your injured shoulder and you shouted in pain. Glancing up towards the source of the shove, you made eye contact with Jeongin again, his smile gone and rage consuming his usually adorable features entirely. His boot met your back in a harsh shove and your cheek met the sidewalk, a pained huff pushing from your lungs.

“You’re gonna regret ever trying to hurt me, little bunny. Jinnie isn’t very happy with you either. Oh and don’t get me started on our dear leader. You’re in for hell once we get in, bunny. You better buckle up.”

His strong arms wrapped around you, your body jostling on its way up to his shoulder, your leg aching and shoulder sending shooting pain to all minor wounds on your person. It made you sniffle in pain, Jeongin’s laugh sending a whole new round of pain through your body. The new wave of pain was too much for you, your eyes blacking out as you fell unconscious. The sudden extra weight of your body made Jeongin sigh, his eyes meeting Chan’s as he walked back up the driveway.

“You’ll help Jinnie deal with her before Sungie gets his turn.”, Chan grunted as he turned to head back into the house, the other boys waiting for their return with anxious expressions.

Through the anxious expressions, that darkness crept through, their gazes on your unconscious form as Jeongin sat you back on the chair it had all started in. Your head lolled as the boys gathered around you again, Han crouching in front of you with a sympathetic look in his eyes, his silent sorrow going unnoticed as you began to stir, Hyujin scoffing at the pained noise you made as soon as you woke up. 

“Maybe that’ll teach you to not try and hurt one of us, hm?”

“We only want to take care of you, bunny. Why do you fight us so much?”

Your head was suddenly cleared of all sleep riddled fog, the pain taking a step back as rage filled you once more. Who were they to say they wanted to take care of you when you were tied to a chair with a broken leg, a stab wound and bullet wound in the same shoulder and multiple cuts and burns along the rest of your body along with previous waterboarding and dehumanizing actions done by them. You should’ve kept your mouth shut, you knew that talking back would only bring you more pain and deep down you did regret what flew from your mouth before you said it, just not enough to stop it from happening in the first place.

“Where do you get off on saying you care about me when all you’ve done is fucking hurt me?! There is no way you’re fucking SANE if you believe I could actually like you or accept you or even want to look at you if I’m alive by seven!”, your breaths were rough, voice hoarse and backed with pain as you shouted at the men in front of you. 

A collective growl seemed to echo in your very bones, their eyes piercing through your soul as they watched you seethe in your spot. You made eye contact with the ones in front of you, your eyes lingering on the smile Minho held on his lips before his eyes darted behind you briefly. You scoffed at him, eyes tracing over the others before your eyes met the ceiling, your scalp stinging as the hand in it tugged harder and suddenly you were making eye contact with Jeongin, his eyes as dark as they were when you were on the sidewalk. 

“I wouldn’t say things like that if I were you, bunny. We might take it the wrong way and you might end up with a missing finger~”

A harsh pressure on your shoulder had a scream passing your lips, Jeongins' eyes watching your expressions carefully with a small smirk. The smirk irked you, your eyebrows furrowing further as you processed the threat.

“Fuck you. I’ll never love you. I’ll never even like you. You can live in delusion all you’d like but I do. not. care.”, you scoffed at Jeongin, the pressure on your shoulder disappearing until you gathered the last of your courage, spitting at Jeongin with as much aggression as you could muster in the moment.

The silence that followed was the most disturbing one of the night, your body trembling as your own breathing filled the silence, their own not even a whisper in your ears. It was as if they had suddenly left your house, just abandoning their objectives to partake in other purge activities. That was only wishful thinking it seemed, moments later you were on the floor, shoulder pressed to the ground, a hand around your neck, a hand in your hair and boot on your leg as you cried out from the pain. Heavy breaths above you took over the silence as you struggled against their holds, giving up quickly as Felix’s knife was back in your personal space, the cool blade pressing against your neck in place of the hand. 

“Watch yourself. I’m going last, doll. You don’t want to push me.”, Chan’s lips were soft on your ear, the threat hanging in the air as all holds on you were released, your forehead resting on the cool floor as you caught your breath from the sudden positioning change.

You huffed at Chan a second later, he had done nothing but slap you a little all night, there was no way you were afraid of him. Jisung on the other hand, you were slightly more afraid of. He had done nothing all night but watch you be tortured. Silent, observing. He seemed pliant yet the look in his eye when you talked back to any of them just reeked a sort of danger that was unknown to you. Unfortunately, that danger was now your thing to experience as Jisung gripped your hair, pulling your torso from the floor with a sharp tug, his other hand wrapping around your injured shoulder gently.  

“If you don’t want me to dislocate your shoulder, you’re going to repeat exactly what I say and thank me for helping you say something smart for once.”, his tone was dark, words almost growled in a way you would never expect from him, “Do you understand?”

You nodded weakly, your eyes watering at the humiliation building in your stomach, the intense gazes from the boys making you tremble as Jisung takes a step back from you. Expecting a moment of reprieve, you let out a small sigh, the puff of air seeming like a cough in the silence as everyone paused. Jisung watched you silently before his arm swung forward and connected with your injured shoulder. You shouted in pain, your body jerking back with the force before two hands planted on your aching body to keep you still, a warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as you whined. 

“I want words from here on out. If I don’t get you using your big girl voice, we’re going to have problems, okay?” ,Han stepped forward to close the distance that was created.

“Y-yes.”

A breathy “good girl” reached your ears as you were placed back on the chair, your eyes scanning for the culprit to send them a death glare. Only finding Minho’s sharp gaze, you sighed and looked back towards your current assailant. His eyes were focused on yours intently, his tongue running over his lips when he noticed he had your attention back. 

“Now, remember to be a good princess and repeat after me. We don’t want more serious injuries befalling you~”, his tone was condescending but by the testing look in his eyes, you knew it was purposeful. 

A brief silence consumed the room, eyes switching from you and Han as he watched you intently.

“I suggest you keep your eyes on me if you’d like to get a chance at not dealing with a dislocated, shot arm.”

Your eyes snapped from where they were straying to his, your lips trembling slightly at the reminder of the pain that consumed your every thought. A smile crept across his features as he held your attention, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he was leaning over you, hands on the back of your chair so he could position his head right beside yours.

“Say, ‘I will let you love me because I am made to please you.’ And don’t resist, love. It won’t end well, you know this by now.”

Your body shook in its spot, your eyes watering for the hundredth time as you looked between the boys. Minho watched with a smirk, his eyes as playful as they had been almost all night, Seungmin by his side with his lighter in hand, the flame flickering at your gaze. Jeongin stood to your side, his cheek clear of any sign you had spat at him. Chan stood behind you, his hands running over your back teasingly as you squirmed. Felix and Hyunjin sat huddled close as they conversed quietly although their eyes were on you the whole time. Changbin was the only one you could no longer see, his presence in your kitchen menacing at best as you heard the sink turn on once more. 

“I-”, your voice came out weak, “I will…”

You trailed off slowly as Changbin walked back into the room, the bucket full with steaming water that sloshed over the edges as he walked. Han cleared his throat, his hand moving to your shoulder gently as a warning. You trembled harder under his touch before you cleared your throat as quietly as you could.

“I will let you…”, you stared up at Jisung with wide eyes as he stared you down, “let you love me….”

You rushed out the words as fast as you could, the small murmur of conversation from Felix and Hyunjin dying out as Han laughed loudly, his grip tightening on your body. 

“That just won’t do, now will it, love?”, he looked around at his group, a false curiosity contorting his features. “Did you guys hear her?”

‘No’’s echoed from around the circle, Changbin stepping up to you with the dreaded bucket of water. His arms raised to throw it on you, his expression blank. A splash of water hit you before you heard Changbins name called, the warmth causing new shivers to wrack your frail body as you cooled off quickly.

“Give the poor kitty a moment to process her words before you punish her!”, Minho called out, his voice just as mocking as it had been all night.

Changbin scoffed but nodded, taking a step back to let Jisung stand in front of you again as his hand gripped your shoulder even tighter, “Now. Let’s try this one more time, love. This is your last chance. Now speak.”

Han commanded you like a dog, your eyes narrowing at him as he met your gaze unwavering. A brief movement caught your attention in the next second, your tense staring contest with Jisung cut short as you realized Seungmin had slid closer to you. You eyed him cautiously, a smirk pulling at his lips when you flicked your gaze to Minho just to check where he was. Not seeing the man in question sent your thoughts spiraling, Seungmin reaching over to nudge Chan and gesture to your searching eyes. The leader laughed sharply, your eyes widening and snapping straight to him as he pushed Jisung out of the way, his hand finding purchase in your hair. 

“I suggest you pay attention to Hannie here, doll. He gave you a merciful chance to not get a new injury and you’re just throwing it away! Tsk tsk. Maybe you are just that dumb.”, Chan’s hand left your hair with a harsh shove back, your head falling over the top of the chair uncomfortably with a whimper. 

“Y-you’re wrong…”, you coughed weakly, your head raising to stare him down with as much anger as you could muster in your gaze, “I’m not dumb!”

Then, with a sudden and unexpected burst of strength, you pushed yourself from the chair, shouldering your way past Han who nearly fell over from the force of your body colliding with his. Surprised shouts filled the room, a few growls backing them as you sprinted up the stairs the best you could, your leg aching to no end but pushing you to move faster. You couldn’t stay. You had to get out, and you had to get out now.

As you sprinted up the stairs, the boys glanced at each other with similar danger in their eyes, snarls taking over Seungmin and Hyunjins’ pretty lips as you stumbled over a few steps. It was a dumb idea, maybe Chan was right on that part, at least slightly… but you had to try. You wouldn’t go down fully without a fight despite there being eight fully grown and muscled men downstairs. You made it up the stairs, a haunting laugh filling your head as you slammed doors behind you as you weaved through rooms, leaving three open to conjoining bathrooms just in case. You just had to make it back to your bedroom and then you could climb through your window after barricading the doors and run to a neighbor or find a good place to hide until 7am. 

Stumbling into your bedroom, your chest heaved with exertion, your arms aching as you pushed your dresser in front of the door. You took a split second to pause, hearing their footsteps ascending the stairs slowly and confidently. That was all it took for you to jerk back into motion, your wounds protesting constantly as you moved your night-stand in front of the dresser, your washroom only accessible from inside your room. You huffed and puffed, staring down your barricade before you fell on your ass, a pained cry crawling from your throat as the dresser shook with the force of whoever was hitting it. 

Seungmin stood and watched Changbin body check the door, the lack of significant movement making him laugh as he stopped the other man, glancing around at his group to make eye contact with Chan. A nod was shared between them and then you heard a pair of footsteps leaving, your voice calling out before you could even think to stop it.

“Too pussy to break down a door? Pathetic.”, you emphasized it with a scoff, eyes widening quickly as you covered your mouth.

The sudden silence from the other side of the door shook you to your core, your arms trembling as you pushed yourself up from the floor. You looked around your ransacked room, trying to remember where you had put your pepper spray and small dagger for emergencies. The continued silence registered in your head a moment later, a gasp leaving you as you turned to face the door.

Hesitantly you called out, “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it-”

“Shut up while you’re ahead, bunny. You won’t be getting any more chances once we get you out of that damned room.”, Jeongin growled through the door, a solid hit on the wood sending you into motion to search for your self defense. 

“I never wanted any of this!”, you shouted back to cover up the noises of your rummaging, “Just leave me alone and we can pretend this never happened! You can stalk me if you want, I don’t care anymore! Just-”, you paused, your hands trembling as you stared into the empty drawer where you were certain you had housed the items you were looking for.

“Looking for these~?”

You spun around instantly, injuries protesting once more as you faced the man who sat casually against your desk. He held your pepper spray and dagger in his pretty hands, thin fingers twirling the dagger as he tossed the spray into the air before catching it and waving it at you. A pout graced his lips before he smirked at your clear shock, pushing off the desk to crowd you against your bed, your knees buckling when you hit the edge. You fell with a light huff, your eyes on the offending items. 

“L-look I wasn’t gonna use those on you guys! I-”

“Shhhh, lovely. We know you couldn’t possibly be that dumb! To try and use pepper spray on us? Or even stab us?”, he chuckled, his voice reaching the others outside the door, their silence broken as an ax cut through the wood beside the door knob, “No, of course you fucking wouldn’t. So, what were you gonna do once you got your cute little hands on these, hm?”

Han watched your wide eyes grow glassy, a new set of tears trailing over your dirtied cheeks as he watched you. The dagger spun menacing circles in his hand as you jumped with each crack of the wood under the ax, a large hand punching through it to fumble for the doorknob to unlock it. You snuck a quick glance at the man above you, his hand loosened around the pepper spray with the distraction. You took as shallow of a deep breath as you possibly could, your uninjured arm shooting out to rip the spray from his hand, his eyes meeting yours before they closed in pain as you hit the trigger on the small bottle.

He grunted loudly, curses falling from his lips as the door rattled, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you rolled off the bed, heading to the open window. Your hands hit the window sill, your breaths loud and uneven as you looked down at the backyard, orange lighting up the sky as fires burned and guns fired. Pushing yourself up, you swung a leg over the edge, your eyes trained on the grid of vines that led to your window. Before you could make a move to get down, a piercing pain bloomed in your already injured arm, your eyes trailing slowly from the veined hand hovering near you to the handle of your dagger sticking out from your arm. 

The door slammed open a second later, the weight of their eyes on you before a calm command hit your ears muffled, Chans’ eyes dark and determined as he waved at you. Confusion flooded your mind past the pain until the same veined hand pushed you out of the window. You gasped at the sudden loss of structure underneath you, Felixs’ slightly guilty smile greeting your eyes until your arm caught on the grid, flipping you around and sending more pain through your body as you crashed against it.

The motion had you leg bleeding once more, your ankle twisting painfully as it caught on a vine and halted your plummet for mere seconds before it snapped and you were falling again. Your fall stopped painfully and abruptly as you hit the small hedge below the vines, the small sticks digging into your skin in all the wrong places as you struggled to remove yourself. A gentle hand on your arm helped you from them, instincts telling you to thank you. 

“Th-thanks…”, you muttered, pain shooting through your arm as the knife left it and you suddenly remembered where you were, your panicked eyes making contact with Minho’s overly pleased ones.

“Awe, I knew you could be nice! It wasn’t that hard after all was it?”, his smile was nothing but sharp as he watched you glance down to your bleeding arm, your legs giving out beneath you and sending you face first into his solid chest. 

A voice sounded from your window, Minho’s hand in your hair suddenly as he dragged you through your yard. Seungmin met you at the door that connected to your kitchen, your head shaking from side to side as much as it could with the grip on your hair. 

“No nonononononononono.. No no-”, you muttered frantically, eyes wide and desperate as you twisted in Minho’s hold the best you could with your legs not working with you. 

No acknowledgements were given to your mutters, the suddenly full sink and temporarily blinded Han being nursed with a bowl of milk creating a whole new panic within you. Your mind practically shattered, your mutters becoming shouts and swears as the boys watched you struggle against their second oldest who slowly released his hold on you, watching with the others as you crumbled to the floor in a heap of blood and tears, your hands trembling against the floor as the sobs shook your entire body violently. 

“Get her up, get her clean and get her comfy. It’s time to let her rest. We have 2 hours left, take one for her to calm down and the other? We can finish this off like we want.”

---

Taglist: @artisticbirb @extremechaoswarning @mixtape-racha

send an ask to be added! ♥

---

next.

[savetheghost]

celebrating madness birthday by finally updating the hank damage pie charts

if youre gonna try and fight hank dont use a weapon tbh just use your fists (blunt force = punched/knocked into a wall)

also if youre gonna fight hank youll be most successful if youre a clown

these aint updated with 9.5p2 yet and take em with a grain of salt because tricky is very very fast

heres the absolutely unhinged notes

[joker-junior-smile]

Gonna cut hearts into my arms for Luna! So she knows how much I love her! And if she don't like it then I'll just take her and keep her until she does! And I'll carve happy little hearts in her arms too! For me! Cause she's mine!

And I'm gonna keep her! And no one's taking her! And if anyone does I'm gonna hurt em! Take them to my basement! And string em up! Open their stomach and take their organs! Then they'll know that Luna's mine!

Mine. All mine! Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

[arcade-anonymous]

DEAN WASNT MEANT TO BE LIKEDDDDDDD AND NOW HES AN ANONVOID FAVORITEEEEE UGHHHUHHHGUHHHH HIDING HIM FROM CANNIBAL SEAMSTRESS

-Clown anons mod

// she just wants to rip off his flesh and consume it, its not like there's gonna be anything more to it, let a girlthing have fun /silly

[evonkyva]

As a person who would LIKE men to get thier shit together nothing irks me.more than youtube videos titles shit like " prove toxic masculinity can't exist HA SUCK IT FEMINIST " or " desperate women regret feminist can't find man MGTOW WINS "

Not only are the titles written like they're trying to attract ten years old or think of grown as men as ten year old. They thrive off the angry and bitterness of the viewers watching them and would prefer the viewer don't grow up

Listen you don't have to like feminism but the Mra see you as mindless bodies that are controlled by your dicks who live in this devious world of them fucking evil females who trapped you with babies. You need jobs and wife and the job will be working 13 hr days coming home to a bitch you don't like and a child you hate . You can't r3pe your spouse cause that was an evil made up idea but after theb6 pack and fucking her while her head was between the washer and the wall you still don't feel better

You still don't feel better ....

Men DO deserve better but I can help you see that until you realize it is not within the system that being used to drug you into some.sense of normality

[viro-lil-goat]

I really hope this reaches more people, I'm only reposting this information from Instagram, the least that I can do. (Update: I changed their upbringing as it appears to have been listed wrong) Wiki page

When I just saw this information I couldn't stop crying thinking about it, and now my heart aches. They were the same age as me, I know for a fact like any other teen they dreamt of their future, who they would want to become, what to achieve, create, wondering if they meet those in the future they can call friends, wondeting if it'll get better when they grow up, maybe wished to leave that terrible place or maybe wanted to stay. How could anyone let this happen, why were they discharged from hospital so easily? And the school, we all know why. I hate to think about how, even with all the progress made, these things still happen.

"murdered schoolgirl Brianna Ghey on February 16, 2023. Candlelit vigils are being held across the UK this week for Brianna Ghey, 16, who was stabbed at Linear Park in Culcheth, Cheshire last Saturday. Brianna was a transgender girl and police are now investigating her killing as a hate crime. A boy and girl, both 15, have been charged with her murder"

An article that explains trans hate crime murders as on 2023

I hate everyone who have ever committed such vile hate crimes, I wish them in prison and hell. But i would never go down to their level. But I also blame the government, the school, and even those bigoted online accounts that teach their followers hate. In this case LibsOfTikTok, who targeted the teacher of this school, who supports lgbtq+, so they had to leave their position. It must have been the push for this to happen. I think their tiktok account has been thankfully deleten. But i have no idea about Twitter or any other. Please check and mass report them if it still exists. (Link to Instagram reel that this information is from)

ADDITION, PLEASE MASS REPORT THESE ACCOUNTS

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Part 2/2

By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.

In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.

So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.

When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.

He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.

The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.

The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.

It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.

And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.

However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.

Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:

Children.

Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.

Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.

They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.

It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.

When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:

Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.

Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.

"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.

Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.

He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.

Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.

He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.

Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.

He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.

He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.

"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.

He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.

All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?

[frownyalfred]

Jason coming back from the dead angry and out for revenge using a crowbar as his weapon of choice only to bash in someone’s skull with one well-placed, Lazarus Pit-fueled swing and suddenly getting hit with a flashback of gargling his own bloody teeth and fucking losing it on the cobblestone of a random alley somewhere in the Narrows send tweet

[vive-le-roi-au]

Prologue

(This post contains both images and text.)

(You’d been looping back to just the third floor for… you don’t know how many loops. Hundreds?)

(Maybe that was the problem. You didn’t do it all in one go. You just have to do it all, from start to finish, and kill the King.)

(From the top.)

(…Again.)

(You went back. Again.)

(Maybe you took too long. Just need to go faster.)

(…No. Still not enough.)

(It feels good though. Killing the one who killed you, thousands of times. It’s cathartic.)

(You’re even strong enough that you don’t need the Housemaid—MIRABELLE. HER NAME IS MIRABELLE, MIRABELLE, MIRABELLE!!!)

(…You don’t need Mirabelle’s help anymore.)

(…)

(You wouldn’t mind doing this a few more times.)

(…)

(Back to the stage, Siffrin.)

(…)

(…)

(…)

(It’s just another part of the loops now.)

(Go through the House. Kill the King. Talk to the Head Housemaiden. Something’s broken, failing, rotting. Loop back to Dormont.)

(The worst part?)

(Murdering the King has stopped bringing you joy.)

(It used to make you smile, seeing him crumble, blood spilling from his mouth, pooling on the ground.)

(Sometimes, you reduce his body to dust, cutting it up more and more and more until there’s nothing left. You’ve killed him slowly, draining him of his strength and bleeding him from a million places all over, watching the light slowly leave his eyes.)

(And you can’t even enjoy it anymore.)

(…)

(So why are you still here?)

(Whose fault is it that you’re trapped here?)

[too-much-tma-stuff]

I don't trust the world with you

I wrote this on my phone while I was at work so there's probably a ton of errors. It's not a particularly original piece, my take on deep cover Danny working for Red Hood and offering Jason the chance to take out his rage on Danny.

Viewer advisory: Mentions of sex but no descriptions, descriptions of violence.

----

Red Hood was furious, he was furious and there was fuck all he could do about it! He had been on a hunt when the piece of shit had decided he'd rather take his own life them give Jason the pleasure, leaving the pit madness swirling in his guts with no release. He wanted Blood, he wanted screams, he hated it and he had no other prospects. And no matter how much of a villain he was he wasn't going to take this out on anyone who didn't deserve it, including or especially the people who worked for him.

Best he could do right now was lock himself in his office and pace, snarling furiously and making aborted little motions with his hands as he held himself back from breaking anything.

"Wow boss, you're really pissed aren't you?" A familiar voice said conversationally. Before Red Hood processed he had drawn his gun and had it leveled at Fox, who did not flinch, grinning at him with his unusually sharp teeth.

Fox had worked for Red Hood for longer then just about anyone, Hood had picked him up half on a whim. With his green-blue eyes and his hair, black on top and white underneath it was like looking in a mirror, a younger version of himself. Fox was good, strong for his size and resourceful, with his filed teeth and odd demeanor he must have had a History but he never spoke about it.

"Fox! How did you get in here?! Get out," Jason demanded in a snarl.

Fox didn't move for a moment, then he stepped forward, his eyes calm and resolute and a small.smile still on his face. "It's okay. There's more to do and you're useless like this. You need to hit something? Hurt something, hit me." He said calmly and Hood balked.

"No! You've seen me-"

Fox had seen Hood at his worst, he knew how violent Hood could be, how could he offer-? But then Fox darted forward and grabbed q knife from Hoods belt. Hood tensed, ready to defend himself but then Fox turned towards Jason's desk, slammed his hand down on the wood and then stabbed the blade through his own hand.

Jason gave a startled yelp but Fox didn't make a sound, his teeth gritted as he pulled the knife out. He turned back towards Hood, holding out his bleeding hand only for it to heal in moment under Jason's shocked gaze. Fox smiled at him and offered the knife, handle first, back to Hood who took it on autopilot.

"No matter what you do to me I'll heal, and it won't be the worst pain I've been through. So, Boss," he said hopping up on the desk and sitting there staring at Jason daringly. "Hurt me."

It was a mad impulse that had Jason driving the knife down into Fox's leg. Fox arched and let out a pained little whine that soothed the beast in Jason even as he froze with shock and regret. He pulled out the knife, leaving Fox breathing heavily. When Hood tried to pull back Fox grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked him back.

"I know you're not done, that's not enough for you. Keep going." He nearly snarled, his eyes more green then usual.

He wasn't wrong but Jason didn't want to hurt him, but being handed handled like that triggered Jason's fight reflex again. He cut Fox's arm making him yelp, but not let go. Jason pressed the knife into Fox's shoulder until he let go.

The smell of blood was filling his nose and his vision was tinged green around the edges. Fox collapsed back against the desk and Jason cut the young man's stomach with barely enough presence of mind to not go to deep. Each cut drew small sounds of pain from Fox but none loud enough to be heard from outside Jason’s office and all healed in moments leaving only a bit of blood on Fox's clothes and Jason's knife.

Finally the green retreated from Jason's vision and Fox was no longer just flesh capable of feeling and bleeding and became his loyal employee again. Sprawled on the desk, clothes and hair mussed, eyes half lidded and breathing heavily. He looked beautiful, and under different circumstances it would have been so... erotic, but now Jason just felt like a complete monster.

"Fox, I'm so sorry," Hood practically groaned, offering Fox his hand. Fox took it but didn't get up yet. "I'm so sorry, I should have,"

"No," Fox murmured giving Hood a small reassuring smile. "I told you to. You feel better don't you?"

Jason froze, because yes he did. "Is there anything I can do to... help?"

"Kiss it better," Fox said with a crooked little smile, he seemed almost high. Jason choked and Fox laughed. "No, just stay, hold me if you don't mind. I'll be fine in a minute."

Jason nodded and pulled Fox into his arms, holding him, hesitating for a moment before combing his fingers through Fox's hair. They were quiet as Fox's breath evened out again.

"I didn't know you were a meta," Jason murmured and Fox twitched, tensing for q moment and then relaxing again.

"I was trafficked when I was pretty young, I've kept it on the down low as much as I can since then. I don't want anyone to know, but I trust you Boss," Fox said giving him a little smile. Oh man that sweet trust made his heart flutter in a way he really Shouldn't be feeling for a man he's just basically tortured.

"I won't tell anyone, and I won't take advantage of it." Jason promised softly, Fox was a good worker and Jason wasn't going to lose him.

"Alright," Fox said, giving him another smile and pushing himself back. "But if this happens again and you need to hurt someone, call me okay? I make a good punching bag," he said with a bitter little curl to his lips.

"I'm... really not sure I want to do that," Jason said worriedly and Fox shrugged.

"Alright then I'll just break in here again next time. Now get back to work Boss," he joked as he walked over to the door and unlocked it to leave.

"Wait if it was still locked how did you get in here?!" Hood demanded suddenly.

"Byeee," Fox cackled as he dashed out the door leaving Jason confused, but not as upset as he would have been had it been anyone else who'd managed that. Fox could probably be trusted with keys at this point, even if he apparently didn't need them.

--------

Jason managed to control himself properly for another month but then things went wrong again. Not another misplaced hunt but a confrontation with Bruce about how Everyone deserves to live and other bullshit! It had him furious with no easy outlet and pacing in his office again. He has passed Fox on his way here, hesitated, then continued. He would Not ask.

He didn't need to, it was less then ten minutes before he turned again and Fox was there. He was sympathetic and worried, last time he'd been there for the last time, this time he didn't know why Red Hood was angry, though that didn't stop him from approaching, he kept his posture low, submissive but unafraid and for some reason Jason completely Hated it.

He grabbed Fox by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall forcing his breath out in a wheeze. Fox covered Hoods closed hands with his own, staring back at him with a serious expression.

"Stop this! You're worth more then being a punching bag, I don't care if you've been through worse it doesn't make it okay for me to hurt you," he snarled in Fox's face practically lifting him off the ground.

"That's sweet, Boss," Fox wheezed, unable to breath properly with Jason bearing down on him. "But you need this, and I'm not leaving till your calm. If you think you can calm down by talking about your feelings we can go with that," he said with a sharp and crooked smile. He knew Hood well enough to know that wasn't enough.

"You self sacrificing piece of shit," Jason nearly yelled, pulling Fox forward and slamming him against the wall again before punching Fox in the face. Fox let him, barely flinched away and didn't fight back as Jason hit him. Bruises bloomed and faded on Fox's skin almost instantly and the stupid man didn't even shield his face. His nose crunched and his head snapped back against the wall, he let out a slight gurgle, the blood on gloves and Jason recoiled in shock at his own actions.

He let go and Fox slid down the wall till he was sitting, he set his nose with a grimace and shook his head. He held up his hand and coughed up a bit of blood that must have flown down the back of his throat. "You done Boss?" He asked with another soft cough.

One lost flare of anger shot through Jason and he kicked Fox in the side making him yelp and fall back against the wall again. "Okay, now I'm done," Jason sighed, slumping back against the wall and sliding down to sit next to Fox who was looking at him a little warily now, even as he leaned closer. Jason sighed and lifted his arm, hating himself and loving it as Fox brightened and ducked under his arm, leaning against his chest.

"What upset you?" Fox asked softly.

Jason twitched he knew Fox meant well so, after a moment, he answered. "It's a long story, but the short version is family bullshit. Something really bad happened to me a few years ago, and my dad just... let it happen, didn't avenge me, nothing. He's still dragging his feet and acting like I'm a villain for wanting some justice," he sighed, moving like he was going to run a hand through his hair only to remember he was still wearing his helmet.

"I get that, it's part of the reason I never went back to my family after everything that had happened to me," Fox agreed softly.

"You know I go after traffickers all the time. If the people who hurt you are still out there..." he trailed off, the suggestion hanging in the air.

"Trust me," Fox said with a humorless laugh, "that's not something you can help me with."

"If you can trust me with it, I'd like to help you," Jason said, brushing Fox's bangs out of his face.

"I trust you with everything Hood, but I don't trust the world at all, not with me, or with you really. But... my real name is Danny, I left it behind a long time ago, but that's my name." Fox, no Danny, said softly. Proof of his trust.

"Thanks Danny, just between us huh?" Jason agreed, wishing he could trust Danny with his name in turn, but he wasn’t rest to.

"It feels good to be called that again," Danny murmured nuzzling into Jason's armored chest as if there was no where else he'd rather be.

---------

Danny just kept coming back, and Jason shouldn't have been shocked when the fifth time ended in them fucking. It was a much more pleasant way to work out Jason's anger and after that he was much more willing to call Danny for help. Even to meet Jason at one of his safe houses, this time wearing a domino mask instead of his full helmet.

When Danny arrived at the safe house he immediately kicked off his shoes and darted into Jason's arms, looking up at him with wide eyes. "We match," he said with a grin, tugging on the little lock of white hair in Jason's bangs. Jason laughed and nodded, tugging Danny towards the bedroom.

"Yep, it was one of the first things I noticed about you. It made me wonder if..." he trailed off.

"If," Danny prompted softly.

"Easier to talk about after, once I'm calm," Jason said, shoving Danny down on the bed. Thankfully Danny liked it rough, or it probably wouldn’t have worked.

A couple hours later they lay in bed together, Danny absently tracing a few of the scars on Jason’s chest. Danny still had his shirt on and Jason hadn't argued, if Jason was keeping his mask on Danny could keep his shirt on. "So, it made you wonder if...?" Danny prompted and Jason winced, he sort of hoped Danny would forget.

"It made me wonder if you died too," Jason said softly and nearly jumped at the way Danny flinched and then gave a nearly full body shudder. He sat up and stared down at Jason with wide eyes.

"I did," Danny said softly and Jason froze.

"What?" He croaked softly.

"I did, I died when I was 14. I was electrocuted," he pulled up one sleeve of his shirt to show the branching scar.

"I was 15, got murdered," Jason said, feeling a familiar burning pain, he wondered if Danny felt it to.

Danny shuddered and lay down against Jason's chest again. "I thought you might be like me too, I felt it when we first met, but the way you act and... some other stuff, I sort of talked myself out of it." Danny said and Jason nodded.

They were quiet for a long time, but there was tension in Danny's back that said he wasn't done. "It wasn't actually traffickers that hurt me," Danny said softly. "It was the government. A branch called the Ghost Investigation Ward, a exception was carved out of the meta protection act for people like me, like us. The government wanted to find out how I came back, how powerful I was, everything. They did a lot of awful shit.

"I destroyed that base when I escaped but I know there could have been more so I ran. Changed my name with every new town and never stayed anywhere more then a few months, until I met you." He looked up at Jason with such utter trust and adoration Jason's breath caught in his throat.

"You made me feel safe, and wanted. I always wanted to help people and you gave me a way I could and still be safe, and keep you safe in case you were like me. I don't have much of a life, still hiding like this, but I have more of one then I thought I would and Red Hood, you know I'd do anything for you right?"

"You've proved that many times over," Jason murmured caressing Danny's jaw. "And it's Jason, my name is Jason."

"Jason," Danny murmured reverently.

"So, how does dismantling a government organization as a first proper date," Jason asked and Danny laughed. It wasn’t bitter, or dry, it was a true, loud, joyful laugh and it was the most beautiful thing Jason has ever heard.

Part 2

Masterpost

[veinsfullofstars]

“Are… they gonna be okay?” “Probably.”

(ID: Kirby series fanart comic of Shadow Kirby showing off his fighting skills to the Wave 2 gang, prompting rather… mixed reactions. Transcript in Alt Text. END ID.)

Started 11/23/24, finished 12/14/24.

[herarcadewasteland]

His Property

A/N: Thanks to @/ghostsinthecloset for the dialogue prompt that created this! Maybe I’ll write some more parts? 

Edit: I wrote a part :D  His Property... Part Two!

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Kneel.”

“No. I’m not some... some weapon for you to command.”

“Not yet.”

You scoffed as you stood above the rest of your group, arms crossed in anger even though there was a dozen guns pointed at your head.

“You think you’re so special just because you’re standing, don’t you?”

The leather clad man scoffed and it prompted everyone around you who wasn’t at risk of dying to laugh at you. Your face turned red at the mockery, your boyfriend Daryl shaking his head at you as the bat that had just been used to kill one of you was pressed against your shoulder. 

“And you think you’re so special just because you’re a heartless piece of shit who uses a baseball bat, that he named to kill innocent people?”

Hesitant chuckles picked up in the crowd of Saviors, Negan shaking his head and taking a few steps back to signal his men.

“Get her down.”

You struggled against the men pushing you back down to your knees, your struggles proving fruitless as you ended up back on your knees with a firm few kicks to the back of your knees. 

“That’s more like it! Doesn’t it feel so much better to be back in the dirt where you belong?”

A short growl left you as you lunged forward, your leap cut short as you ran directly into the man who caused your group a boatload and a half of pain in the past few hours. 

“Well if you wanted to see me closer, all you had to do was ask, doll.”, the confident smirk on his face made you want to slap it off.

You wiggled in his grasp as he turned you to face your family, his rough fingertips gripping your chin as cool metal touched your throat. A collective look of concern washed over your groups faces again as they fully realized the situation. You had just angered the man killed two very important members of your group, your family, and now you had the chance to be next because you didn’t like Negan’s attitude. 

“Now, doll. I could kill you right here, in front of your friends and add one more to the kill list...or~”, he carried the ‘or’ out with a cocky smirk like he owned the world, “you can live! Wouldn’t that be peachy? But, you work for little old me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked to Daryl for some guidance, his head shaking minutely in dis-agreeance. He couldn’t lose you on top of Abraham and Glenn. Letting out a sigh, you look around at your family, Rick pleading you with his eyes to not just accept your death. Carl looked at you with grief, you were basically his best friend, sneaking him chocolate pudding and treats every once in a while. Everyone else held the same despair in their expressions, you were a strong member of their community, plus you had Daryl. Nothing better than that. You sighed and hung your head as much as you could with Negan’s fingers still gripping your chin.

“Okay...”, you said quietly, “I’ll go with you.”

Daryl, though expecting it, reacted immediately and jumped to pull you from Negans grasp, the knife held to your neck slicing it as you transferred holds. The both of you being pummeled to the ground by the man you remembered as Simon, Negan’s right hand man and second in command. Daryl landed on you, knocking the breath from you. You smacked his shoulder for landing on you but your moment of comedy was ruined milliseconds later as Daryl was dragged from your hold and you were pulled up and held tightly by Simon. 

“Hey! Let him go!”, you shouted at the men holding down your boyfriend as Simon ran his finger through the blood on your neck.

You hissed at the sting, struggling in yet another hold of a man that was not Daryl. Negan laughed and walked forward, Lucille swinging at his side. 

“This is an emotional moment, again, I get it. But that? Unacceptable. She is my property now, like the rest of you. It seems like you all need yet another reminder that I am the one in charge around here!”

Panic built up in the group again, he could kill Daryl, you or someone at random and no one could do anything about it. Again. 

“Simon. Hold her arm still, get her on the ground. Hold him still too. We don’t need more deaths here today.”, Negan barked out orders and they were followed swiftly.

You struggled against Simons ridiculous muscles as much as you could but ultimately ended up on your back, arm held out and still by Simons boot pressed against your elbow. Daryl was dragged closer “for a better view” and held still by three men. It made you proud to see it took three fully grown men to hold your man still but it also worried you because you knew he was hurt in the process of getting the group gathered. Snapping your gaze to Negan, you watched as he handed a bloody Lucille to the one called Dwight. The knife that was pressed against your throat now being swung in circles as Negan got on one knee beside your outstretched arm. 

“You can scream, you can cry... hell, you’re gonna be doin all that. Back to it~”, Negan ran a gentle finger across your cheek as he observed the new lack of struggle in your form. 

Hearing Negan repeat his line from earlier made you roll your eyes, but you soon realized his statement may be true as the knife dug into your forearm just under your wrist. Making eye contact with the leader of your new group, you clenched your jaw as he slowly cut into your supple skin. Blood filled the rips in your skin only to be wiped away as it appeared, leaving you, Daryl and Negan to gaze past the layers of your skin to an emptiness that filled with red rapidly after each wipe. The scream that finally left you as Negan cut through your vein sent chills through everyone in the clearing, tears welling up in the eyes of your apocalypse family as they heard you scream for the first time. Daryl struggled harder hearing you scream, the men needing a fourth to hold him back as you jerked in the hold of the two men holding you still. Minutes passed, screams echoed in the early dawn and your boyfriend lost his strength, the group watching on as you got paler. Moments passed with tension, the groans of the dead that approached being silenced quickly by Saviors. Soon enough, the sun peaked at your pain from through the trees as you stared into the sky, a heavy yet proud sigh guiding your dreary gaze to meet Negans.

“You in there, Y/N? You’re truly my property now. Take a look.”

Your eyes dropped down farther to your arm, raw skin from being rubbed accentuated by the bright red ‘N’ carved into your arm. As you watched the blood drip from the letter, you heard Daryl weakly call out your name. Meeting the eyes of your lover, you blacked out. 

“You can’t escape your own father. Haven’t you learnt that yet?”

You would never be his property. You swore you would never give in. Yet you were marked by him. Funny how family always finds its way back to each other.

[asterdisaster06]

Rottweiler's Callsign Story

platonic 141 x reader

summary > The mission was supposed to be an easy in and out stealth operation; however, you getting cornered by enemy guards that weren't drawn out by the team's distraction left you to desperation. Such circumstances resulting in unsavory acts needed to get out alive and back to your team. Half the blood on you might not even be yours, but you're out alive and safe.

word count > 5.6k

warnings > graphic description of blood and violence, like i'm not kidding. medical terms used to describe some of the gore. reader is described like a feral dog.

ao3

You had always been quite animalistic in your ways, vocal on the battlefield with snarls and hisses escaping your lips through the sheer effort of your tyranny. Grunts and growls being a point made to enemies you faced before absolutely thrashing them to death. Your skills with a gun whether a handgun or an assault rifle were top tier, your training made sure of it, but your real talent laid in hand to hand combat. Specializing in utilizing your own body and surroundings to tear your enemy down. It was something that had confused and yet impressed your teammates on the taskforce. They stared at you with something akin to visceral horror and pure adoration when you save their asses more than they can count. 

Whether that comes from tackling the one on top and pinning them by their throat or managing to spot an enemy that they had missed on their six. Either way, any way, they were significantly impressed by you and your prowess. Your expertise offered something new to the group. Your bones held your pride that was either to be completely snapped or remain unwounded. Your muscles flexed to show the pride that was your mortal self. Your teeth were bared to the world like a stray dog. And in a sense, that was what you were.

You were found by Laswell and Price with your fur matted and your teeth too sharp from eating trash-thrown bones. Metaphorically of course. Literally though, they were your saviors. She took you off the previous military base you would’ve died on and Price raised you like his own flesh and blood. He took the limping, ugly mutt and showed a kindness you had always heard directed at others but never you. You learned to not bite at the hand that feeds you. 

The others came later once you were settled in - learning very little of your past; only knowing what you had seethed through tight lipped smiles. At that point you were known simply as ‘hound’ to them. You’re not entirely sure how or when it came about, but it seemed to fit you for the moment. 

You weren’t exactly talkative, similar to Ghost in that aspect. That’s not to say that you didn’t learn to open up and trust, especially when you were on a mission that required trust and teamwork. Collaboration and communication were the foundation for the taskforce, and it wasn’t something you could opt out of. You mostly sat back and smiled at a few of the jokes shared, but the one time you spoke to add onto the dark humor from Simon scared the shit out of them. Even Simon was a little caught off guard despite his vehement denial. It was the start of the blossoming friendship between you and the team. 

This particular mission was no different than the others. Or at least, it shouldn’t have been. Unfortunately, the world had different plans in mind for you and the boys. 

Soap had been talking your ear off and you listened in with a small smile on your face at his antics. It was amusing to you that he wasn’t put off by your scars, both physical and mental. He looked past them, not quite ignoring them but not pushing for you to spill the story behind them all if you weren’t ready. You were forever grateful for that. Gaz was in a similar vein, learning to eventually see you for who you were. Sometimes he poked and prodded you, but only in the intentions of helping you. Especially when you refused to see a therapist. Not after the last incident.

Ghost respected you at face value. The mask was who you were to him, and it didn’t make a difference in the slightest for your identity. It was a refreshing contrast to the other two who were not exactly openly prying, but their curiosity emitted from them like radiation. And you didn’t need a geiger counter to see that being near them would eventually unravel your DNA containing your secrets. Ghost simply left your skeletons in the closet lie. A needed deviation in your life. 

This mission required you to sneak into the compound in order to collect intel about nuclear weapons that a recent terrorist group had gotten their hands on. Obviously, that was a paramount issue that Shepherd had wanted the taskforce to take care of. Your boys would be creating a distraction away from your position, eventually creating a path to your location for a safe exfil after they had planted bombs around the compound. This establishment wasn’t going to be left standing after you guys were done with it if you could help it. 

“Is everyone clear on their positions?” Price’s voice breaks through the disassociation your mind had thrust you into. 

The ringing in your ears faded as the chatter began to quiet down and focus was injected into your veins. There was a small nagging feeling in the back of your mind, but you brushed it off as simple leftovers of anxiety growing mold in the fridge of your consciousness. You responded with a simple affirm alongside the rest of the team, eyes beginning to lose the dazed look within the cornea. You blink once and then twice as you take in your surroundings and run your tongue over your sharpened canines. 

Your muscles tense with anticipation, letting your legs carry you out of the truck that was about one klick from the objective. You were to be going on foot from here to avoid raising suspicion. The treeline would offer some cover for the infiltration attempt, the leaves in full swing. Unfortunately that also meant so were the bugs and thorns. You would just have to deal with it, although Soap wasn’t so easily placated.

“Fucking hell,” Soap exclaims, swatting at a very vague buzz that was swarming him.

“Here,” Gaz says, throwing Soap a can of bug spray. 

The droning and whirl of wings belonging to insects that lived long before humanity came about offers you a weird amount of comfort. It’s almost a commiseration of sorts between the creatures that nobody wanted around. You and the acarids. Nonetheless, you cover yourself in a self assumed shield of the spray that sticks to your skin in a way that makes you almost uncomfortable. The thorns and sticks pricking you through your tactical gear brings you relief. The opposite from what you presumed the others were experiencing.

It’s not like you were a masochist, peace and comfort have just never quite been something you’ve gotten used to. It’s what you’ve known most of your life and it’s what you’ll continuously go through. Much to the chagrin of your boys.

Speaking of, they appeared to be having varying levels of reaction to the harsh woodland environment. Soap has been openly complaining, although you knew it was mostly to break up the monotony of the trip alongside easing the anxiety of the others. He knew just how to utilize his personality like that and he wasn’t scared to come off as brash or even semi-annoying. You try to humor him enough to keep that spark going in his soul. That’s honestly a thought that keeps you up at night; Soap becoming like you or Ghost.

Gaz was experiencing his classic bad luck; truly trying to avoid any muddy spots or tripping on an exposed root, but it appears that it wasn’t working out for him. He had tripped over his own feet two times, an exposed root five, and almost twisted his ankle thrice. It was almost as if the woods had it out for him. You wince and make that last thing four times now as Gaz tripped over a small pebble and had to execute an almost ballerina-esque move to avoid falling face first into a puddle. It made you huff out a laugh, earning you a middle finger in your direction. Gaz truly does try his hardest in everything he does, placing expectations upon himself that nobody else even thinks of. Pressure mounting upon him that moves you to make sure he takes care of himself. You’ll be damned if you let him drown himself in the same way you do. 

Ghost was similar to your apathy, although you could tell from his body language that he was in as much discomfort as Soap was expressing. He refused to let even a slip of a grunt or groan escape from his sealed lips. His combat boots were sinking into the mud as much as Gaz, but he had significantly more coordination and confidence in his steps than Kyle did. You observed him quietly, seeing thorns stick into his skin - likely releasing the red ichor of his mortal body. Nonetheless, he braved on with only a slight wince betraying his emotions. It reminded you of how he faces his own torment and demons with nothing showing to anyone around. Not unless they’re particularly attuned to him and his distinctive micro-expressions. You know this as well as anyone, so you make a conscious effort to try and get Simon to open up to you. Not a lot, and sometimes not at all, but enough to sand down the roughness around his edges. Enough to heal him one scar at a time. 

Price was admonishing Soap for being so loud and semi-obnoxious. All in good fun, at least, at the distance you were away from the location. Given that Price was back at the car, you couldn’t exactly see what he was doing or his own personal quirks. However, you had known him long enough to know his personality and behavior. You had spent a good chunk of time analyzing the man that had offered you not only a position on this team, but a hand to help you up from your back-alley way of living. He was a tired man that needed some positive affirmation in his life if you were being honest. He had this entire team on his back alongside his position that designated him to a life chained to his work. His title delegated him to the duress that came with everyone expecting victory from you. It’s probability is down right improbable for him to always come out on top. Although, you doubt that he’s come to terms with that idea. You try your best to offer support in your own way, realizing that words alone aren’t going to cut it. You try to guide him to sleep if he’s too caught up in paperwork or offer him a cup of coffee just the way he likes it if an all-nighter is inevitable. You want to be there for him like he is for you. 

Laswell’s voice cuts through the comms and snaps you from your stupor. Kate Laswell. She offered you kindness while others offered you chains. She let you into her life instead of caging you like a feral animal. She took the muzzle off of your maw and let you speak. She presented you with a purpose outside of being a killing machine for your previous team sent in with no regard for your health or happiness. She gave you a life. One of your own. A team that you could rely on with a street of protection that goes both ways. Possibilities were opened up that you had never dared to dream of beforehand. You owed her your life, and that’s what you fought with on every mission. 

“You’re closing in on the base. Can we get a general overview of how it’s going?”

You smiled and shook your head before the Scot even opened his mouth.

“How’s it going? Oh wonderful, absolutely joyous,” Soap spoke with mock annoyance, good-natured humor shining through despite his tone.

“All is well, the intel we were given appears to be good. There should be no difficulties from our view over here,” Ghost answers, genuinely. 

“Affirm, I’m all set and ready here, Kate,” Price speaks, his commanding timbre sending rumbles down your spine and through your nervous system. 

“Remember, get in and get out, don’t get caught up in the blast,” Kate reminds you all, as if you could forget. 

A chorus of proclaimed agreements echoes throughout the trees of the forest. The silence that falls over the group afterwards makes you tense up and get into the mindset of the feral mutt that has kept you alive for this long. Your breath ends up heavy, saliva coating the inside of your jaws as you harshly swallow it down - almost choking every time you do. Your shoulders rise and fall in time with your respiration. Ghost checks in with the group one last time before you’re sent off first into the craw of the compound. Being a sacrifice is nothing new to you, but it still causes you to shudder in anticipation. Goosebumps rise all across your skin despite the temperature dictating otherwise. 

You wander forward, joints creaking in protest as you sneak around the side of the building. It’s inevitable that you have to utilize your knife, but you use it sparingly - not wanting the alarms to ring because some unfortunate soul stumbles upon the body of their fallen comrade. It’s almost second nature to you at this point and you would’ve zoned off if it wasn’t for the pure adrenaline rushing through your system.  You finally reach point A in which you reaffirm with the rest of the boys that the plan is a go and no complications have arised. 

You hear a plethora of acknowledgements before you begin to move forward with the permission of Ghost and Price. You snake cam the door before lock picking it after deeming it safe. There didn’t appear to be any enemies nearby much to your satisfaction. The less possibilities for this plan to go wrong, the better. It’s a waiting game as you come upon the stairwell door leading up to the room you were meant to infiltrate. The clock ticks down, the beats of your heart sounding out in your ears as a unit of measurement. 

Boom.

It’s the signal for you to proceed as all of the cameras are abandoned with the clicking of the gun trigger replacing the clack of keys in the office. You were all set up and ready to acquire the real reason your mission was handed out. Pushing past into the stairwell, you’re met with the surprise of an elbow to the face, effectively causing a gush of blood to start trickling down your face. Despite the advantage the enemy had from his effort of concealment working to catch you off guard, you gained your balance back quickly, and the pounding of your head did nothing to quell the vexation that led you to putting a knife in the guy’s eye. You shoot a bullet straight into his cranium with a glare, just to cover your tracks. 

You lick your chapped lips, tasting the metallic mouthful you had gotten from your little scuffle. You didn’t hear a crack, but it was definitely going to be a pain in the ass the next day. Nonetheless, you pushed on, aiming to be more aware of your surroundings. There was an odd lack of guards around the area for what seemed like the main structure. It set off warning bells in your head, but there was no turning back now. From the gunfire sounding out from below it seemed that the others would be too caught up to engage in a verbal conversation regarding your worries. Not like you weren’t confident in your own abilities, quite the opposite, but Price had managed to drill into your head that not everything had to be faced alone. Jokes on him, this situation had the appearance of it being a one man operation. 

You and your blood soaked sleeves made your way to the computer where you gathered yourself into a semi-coherent being in order to upload data from their system. The hard part was already done for you; all you had to do was plug a hard drive into a computer and wait. And that you did. You almost felt sorry for getting their keyboard all slick with your carnage escaping from your sinuses. It also felt as if you had bitten your tongue during the altercation, your mouth being yet another outlet for the liquid escaping you. You spat on the floor, maroon saliva staining it. 

Running down your neck, the blood seemed to stop at that point, trickling off into a simple seeping of gore. You consider yourself lucky, just in time for the information to be uploaded onto the hard drive you were given. You report over to Price and Laswell, a slight lisp imbued into your words due to the tip of your tongue suffering from puncture wounds your teeth had embedded into the soft muscle. They understood you perfectly fine however, and you were instructed to continue with the orders you were given. At that moment however, the lack of communication on your part about your suspicions of an ambush was coming back to bite you in the ass. Almost literally. 

A gloved hand smothers your mouth, effectively suffocating you. If the arm around your throat and its connected hand stifling your ability to productively breath wasn’t enough, there was now a knife lodged in your side. Your attacker drove the knife you suspected he took from your gear even further into your abdomen, twisting it like he was wringing out the last of his laundry. Except you were the clothes and your blood was escaping you, much to your chagrin. Fortunately for you, this particular guard was practically brain dead when it came to medical knowledge, so you were pretty confident that you were going to live. That is, if you could escape without being asphyxiated to death. 

You maneuver your maw into an opportune striking position, opening your jaws like a dog being thrown a bone. The coincidental nature of that thought would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t currently on the verge of being slaughtered and gutted like a pig. You chomp down and dig your teeth into the metacarpals of his skeleton, relishing in his grunt of pain and attempt to recoil. You were like a dog with a bone though, and you’d be damned if anyone tried to take it from you. His attempt to pry your jaws open with the hand that soon abandoned the knife in your side after the puncturing of his palm. You ground your teeth into the fat of his hand before realizing the glove was going to be an issue. You turn your teeths’ attention to his exposed wrist, aiming for his radial artery. Unfortunately for him, your fangs found their intended target and perforated his skin. You threw your head back, grasping his arm with your other hands - clawing at it like a feral beast. 

You effectively were one, your mouth full of flesh and muscle that didn’t belong to you. Although, you suppose that one could argue it didn’t belong to him either. Not anymore. You spat out the pulp of tissue, realizing that he had let you go. You put a bullet right through his eyes, spraying blood and brain matter across the room. Well deserved for someone like him. You drive your boot into his lifeless corpse, really kicking the man while he was down. Your joke, although knowing nobody alive was around to hear it, made a hysterical laugh claw its way out of your throat. Your larynx had really betrayed your deranged and volatile behavior. Your manic nature had kept you alive so far, so you supposed you had only yourself to thank. 

You shoved your bloodied tongue around your mouth, hoping to wash out the taste of human flesh. It wasn’t the worst thing you’ve tasted - that goes to Ghost’s attempts at cooking - but it certainly wasn’t pleasant. You wiped your mouth against the back of your hand, quickly realizing that it too was bloody. Red wasn’t really your color right now, otherwise you would have appreciated the look. You quickly checked over your supplies, knowing that you could make due with anything around the room or at the very least your hands, but feeling comfort in the weight of the metal contraption that delivered death at a much quicker rate. Hemorrhaging from either a knife or a gun was much more effective than your bare hands. Or teeth. 

It appears that your enemies didn’t appreciate your sentiment though, ambushing you only to take away such things from your grasp. There were two this time. They almost reminded you of Soap and Ghost, if those two were actively trying to kill you. Your boys only sometimes did that, and most of the time it was pitiful attempts. You were actually the one that got quite a few new rules implemented during training - but seriously, who stops in the middle of a fight to ask if something is legal? No-one, which is exactly why you simply did what was necessary to survive, to quote verbatim what you had said to Price as your excuse when Soap had ended up in the med bay. 

Be that as it may, these guards weren’t who you thought them akin to. Therefore, everything was on the table. Especially since they had made the grave error of giving your standard weapons a place on the backburner. Now, the only thought in your mind was kill. At all costs necessary. Your sharpened canines glinted in the dim lighting with a scarlet staining the pearly white as your mouth opened. It’s unfortunate for them that they didn’t have a muzzle on hand. 

Before the one in front of you had an opportunity to shoot you through any vital organ, you used your body weight to shove the one holding you to the ground - the bullet whizzing above you. A guttural growl escaped your throat as you turned your attention to escaping the grasp of the poor soul restraining your body. You grasp his upper arm, twisting yourself to use his body as a human shield. It would’ve made you gag if this was the first time you’ve done this. Regrettably, you have quite a bit of experience in this particular experience. 

The bullets pierced the soon to be corpse of his comrade, narrowly avoiding you except for one that grazed your side. You really were losing a lot of blood today. Making your way to safety was your biggest priority; however, that was proving difficult with leftover guards that were actually doing their job semi-well. You untucked yourself from under the weight of the stiff remains and threw yourself at the unlucky fellow who had just run out of ammo in his weapon. A simple click is all you heard as the gun escaped his grasp in favor of his bare hands. You were thrown into a chokehold yet again. These guys really did like their chokeholds. His hand gripped the knife slick with your own blood from your hands and ripped it out, leaving you to bleed to death. His mistake though was only using one hand to contain your rage filled body made of torn flesh and bones. 

You tore yourself from his grasp, with the worst luck in all of history happening with the knife getting knocked down the stairwell - sounding like a fork being dropped in the sink on its way down. You were in no condition to run or even jump after it, and the only other weapon was out of ammo, so it seemed you were yet again stuck using your bare hands. They trembled as you gathered yourself, preparing yourself for what you were being forced to do in order to escape this ordeal alive. You settled your weight into your haunches and launched yourself at the enemy, vision bloodshot and tinted red. An animalistic growl escaped yourself, sounding almost like a hyena’s maniacal laugh. Your lunge proved fruitful as your claws came into contact with his facial features, digging into his eyes to blind him. The texture of the soft tissue under your sharpened nails flexed and then ruptured. The front layers of his cornea gave way to the gooey gel similar to egg whites that filled the orbs. 

A visceral scream escaped the man below you, causing Price to finally check in over comms. At least, you think so, it was getting hard to hear with the ringing in your ears. You didn’t respond either way.

You knew that even blind, the man was still a liability. Or maybe he wasn’t, but to your addled brain firing neuron after neuron that drove you with the only thoughts occupying you being: survive and kill; well, the feral nature of yourself pushed you to make sure he was dead. You had your training to thank for that. You knew that the rest of his body was protected by the structure of his epidermis, much to your dissatisfaction. Your thoughts wandered back to the first enemy you encountered as you loomed over the blinded man. Your mind was made up.

In a split second decision, you descended your fangs into his throat, sinking your teeth into his trachea and hearing a sickening squelch of his bare flesh. The muscles gave way as you shook your head like a rabid dog, separating his tissue from their home within his body. You didn’t stop until you felt his carotid artery begin to hemorrhage. You shakily stand up, staring at the massacre you had left behind. Your jaw would definitely be sore the next day. There wasn’t a surface of you that wasn’t absolutely drenched in blood, and you couldn’t tell where yours began and theirs ended. The corpse beneath you had stopped screaming after the first puncture of your teeth - at least, you’re pretty sure. The haze surrounding your mind made thinking about it too hard. It almost fills you with a sense of regret at letting the monster you once were out of their muzzle yet again. The halfway decapitated body was left as you limped down the stairs and out a back door. 

You shambled out into the woods, faltering only twice to prevent yourself from tripping since you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to get up again after that. The rush of blood in your head faded as the sounds around you finally cascaded back into reality. You swore you could feel the dripping of blood spurting out of all open wounds in time with your heart. The chaos finally sunk in, the screaming over comms for your response demanding your attention.

“I’m,” You break up your sentence with a cough. “I’m fine,” Your voice sounds crackly and hoarse. Not that you’re surprised.

“Where the fuck are you, you were supposed to be out of there five minutes ago,” Price yells out over the radio. 

“I don’t exactly know. Somewhere out in the woods?” You respond, your head pounding.

“Ghost, find them!” Price had apparently discerned that you were in no condition to be taking in your surroundings accurately enough to ascertain an accurate location. 

“Fuck, I think I see them. Hound!”

You think you hear a faint yelling of your name, although it doesn’t quite register to your unhinged and disoriented brain. All you could tell through the muddy fog of your mind was a person. Enemy. Kill. Survive. Escape. You felt their hands on you, your throat closing up in response as you preemptively expected to be strangled half to death. You let out a snarl, baring your teeth and coming into contact with what you think is a hand. Either way, it doesn’t matter to you and you bite down with the force of a wild animal. A yelp is heard, only cementing your actions in your mind. 

“Calm the fuck down Sergeant.”

A voice cuts through the haze like a hot knife through butter. You fall limp in the grasp; whether it’s because you recognize the voice or you simply are accepting your fate is up in the air. Nonetheless, your surroundings begin to load in, your eyes stopping their constant darting around and focusing on a singular face. Or, faces. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz. They had found you. You were safe. You notice Soap has a bleeding hand - your own handiwork without a doubt. Guilt floods you, your behavior similar to a puppy hearing the words ‘bad dog’ for the first time in their life. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. You did great, Hound,” Soap begins to say. 

“Come back to us, Love,” Gaz whispers, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. 

“Shit, fuck, I’m sorry,” You cry out, finally feeling the effects of your pure exhaustion. 

“I don’t blame you, Jesus, you’re gonna have a hell of a story to tell us when you get all patched up again, Hound,” Soap exclaims.

“How much of this blood is yours?” Ghost finally cuts in.

“Not a lot, just where the knife was and I might’ve gotten shot.”

“Might’ve?” Soap laughs.

“Mission, guys,” Price finally interrupts. “I’m glad you’re safe, Hound.”

The mission continues, you leaning on Soap since you’re pretty sure stumbling down the stairs strained one of your ankles. You spewed out numerous apologies for his hand, but he didn’t want to hear any of it. The go ahead for the air team with Laswell to level the building was given, and the exfil point was finally reached by your ground group. At that point, you were barely conscious, hearing echoes of pet names assuring you only a little longer and to stay with them. They plagued the darkness that overtook you and greeted you as you woke up to the blinding light of the medical room. 

“Welcome back to the world of living,” Soap says. “The doctors hadn’t seen anything like you before,” He laughs. 

“Do you want to explain why they found human tissue in your mouth?” Ghost asks, his tone inquisitive.

“Shit man, let them have a bit of a break before we interrogate them,” Gaz chuckles, offering you some water, much to your appreciation. 

You gulp down the water like it was the last time you would ever get the precious liquid, your body thanking you. You sheepishly hand the empty cup back to an amused Gaz. You clear your throat, not quite ready to delve into the specifics of what you had to do to survive, but knowing you had to. Being open in communication was a non-arguable point to being a part of the taskforce. 

“Most of the blood on me when you found me was probably belonging to the man I might’ve,” You pause, “ripped the throat out of?” You rush that last part out as quickly as you could, knowing that despite your efforts, they’re going to question you.

Both Soap and Gaz’s eyes widened almost comically, both quickly exclaiming different curse words. One being Scottish curses that you could barely make out from his accent. The other being aggressively British expletives spilling out of Gaz’s mouth. Ghost simply looked upon you with what seemed to be both admiration and affirmation. You had known he would be the most likely to not be surprised at your actions. He knew what it was like to have an untamed beast within you. 

“What in the bloody hell did you say?” Price was apparently looming in the doorway, keeping himself hidden until this moment.

You cough, and ask “Is now a good time to mention I also might’ve done the same to a man’s hand?”

Soap had a horrified look upon his face. “You’re saying I could’ve lost my precious hand?”

You had almost forgotten about Soap’s injury, and stared at him with a semblance of guilt flashing across your face. 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” You say quietly. 

“What happened to the good ole knife or bullet?” Soap asked, offering you his bandaged hand to hold in an offer of forgiveness and trust.

“They stole my shit, and my knife ended up kicked down a staircase after it was ripped out of me,” You pouted, the drug concoction of morphine and other such things loosening you up to talk. 

“You’re quite a rabid beast, ain’t you?” Price said, his tone betraying the fact that he was in fact quite proud of you. It wasn’t meant in a derogatory way and you knew that. You smiled in his direction, jokingly baring your teeth at your Captain. 

“Aye, I think you’re more than a baying hound at this point. Maybe Rottweiler would serve you better. That mouthful of teeth sure does remind me of my childhood,” Soap says, shivering at the thought of being the victim of your maw. 

“I hate to think of the final view those soldiers saw of you,” Gaz laughs. 

“I think Rottweiler suits you,” Ghost says. “Fearless yet loyal.”

The rest of the team nods in agreement, surrounding you with support and love. Something that still unsettles you to this day, but not in the same way facing down the barrel of a gun would. It’s a warm embrace in front of a fireplace that sends a jolt of something new down your spine. A fondness spreading like wildfire, adoration deep seated in your bones to those around you. Just like a dog, you were a fierce protector of your family, but with them? You were a tender beast that rolled over at their feet. 

You couldn’t think of anything better than that thought which warmed your heart. 

[steveyockey]

We started seeing a series of children, preteens mostly, who’d been shot in the head. They’d go on to slowly die, only to be replaced by new victims who’d also been shot in the head, and who would also go on to slowly die. Their families told us one of two stories: the children were playing inside when they were shot by Israeli forces, or they were playing in the street when they were shot by Israeli forces.

As we met Palestinian physicians and nurses working at the hospital, it was clear that they, like their patients, were physically and mentally unwell. Giving anyone a pat on the back dropped your hand between two unpadded shoulder blades and onto an exposed spine. In any given room one found staff members with jaundiced eyes, a sure sign of acute hepatitis A infection in such overcrowded conditions.

Many staff had no sense of urgency and often no empathy, even for children. We were initially taken aback by this, But we quickly learned that our Palestinian health care colleagues were among the most traumatized people in the Strip. Like all Palestinians in Gaza, they had lost family members and their homes. Indeed, almost all of them now lived in and around the hospital with their surviving family. Although they all continued working a full schedule, they had not been paid since October 7; health sector salaries are paid by the Ramallah-based Palestinian Authority and are always cut off during Israeli attacks.

Among the medical staff who survived the assaults on the Shifa and Indonesian Hospitals, many were taken from those hospitals by the Israeli military. They all told us a slightly different version of the same horror story: In captivity, they were barely fed, continuously abused and ultimately dumped naked on the side of a road. Many said they were subjected to mock executions and other forms of mistreatment and torture.

Several staff members told us they were simply waiting to die, and that they hoped Israel would get it over with sooner rather than later.

[maladaptiveobsession]

yandere valentino x reader x angel dust

contains: reader w/unspecified genitals, gn reader, nsfw themes, noncon/dubcon, dehumanization, degradation, heavy abuse (brief mentions of physical violence, manipulation, sexual exploitation), dacryphilia, overstimulation

word count: 2,160

It’s not unusual for sinners to throw themselves at Valentino’s feet, but it is the first time the red skies of hell have thrown one directly onto him. The impact sends you both to the ground, collapsing in a startled heap.

He scrambles to throw you off, having every intention to rip you to scraps. Upon lifting your head, he suddenly has grander schemes in mind. His towering figure and lascivious grin send shivers down your spine.

“My, what lovely specimen do we have here? How kind of heaven to send a beauty like yourself directly to me.” His flirtations send blood rushing to your head, making your face grow warmer. You shyly break eye contact, swiveling your head to get a look around. Where is this place?

Valentino must notice your growing confusion and distress, interrupting your thoughts with a low chuckle.

“Welcome to hell, dollface.” Oh, you must be dead. You never thought you were perfect, but you never could’ve imagined you’d go to hell! Where did you go wrong? Suddenly thrust into hell with murderers, rapists, and monsters alike, you wondered if you could die twice.

“Don’t look so down, baby; you’re in luck! There’s no better demon you could’ve crashed into.” He goes on to introduce himself as a powerful overlord with a well-known and successful business.

“I’m feeling awfully generous right now. Why don’t you come work for me? I know just where to put you! You’ll fit right in! I’m sure my patrons will love you too.” He pauses to let you digest the information. “As my employee, you’d be provided housing. I could easily protect you from the creeps and losers on this side of hell. I’ll even forgive you for dirtying my coat! Sounds like a steal, right?”

He takes a long drag from a cigar that you're not sure where came from, then whips out a contract and pen.

“So, how about it, baby?”

Stranded in an unfamiliar place, you easily accept his kindness. As you take hold of the pen, something about his grin makes you uneasy.

If only you read the fine print. So began your life of torment.

What Valentino neglected to mention was that the “successful business” he ran was a porn studio. You spent hours doing photoshoots, films, and shows. Like Valentino suggested, you became his star attraction—the shy and delicate pornstar all of hell’s degenerates thirsted for. Yet they would never get a taste. Valentino didn’t share his personal toys. 

Inexplicably, he couldn’t get enough of you. He wanted to own you the moment he saw your pretty face, drawn to the light in your eyes.

Even with your skin bruised by his fingers and your throat sore from careless treatment, you still desired his rough affection. You didn’t mind that he left you battered each night or his harsh comments when you couldn’t keep up with his demands.

You could even forgive him for cruelly allowing his customers to take advantage of you and fuck you back into submission.

“I said I could protect you; I never said I would. Perhaps you’ll think twice before disobeying in the future.”

You would do anything if it meant receiving his violent devotion.

Being the personal toy of an egomaniacal moth could never be easy, but at least you weren’t alone. You had befriended none other than Valentino’s former favored pornstar, Angel Dust. Despite your differences in character, your shared experiences created a bond neither of you could find anywhere else. Misery always finds company.

Angel felt conflicted upon meeting you. That bastard had finally found a new toy to replace him! His joy only lasted until he heard your voice, so soft and sweet.

Valentino would break you.

Angel dreamed of the day Valentino would grow bored of him and find a new toy to play with. Now that that dream was a reality, he couldn’t push down the guilt. Shouldn’t he feel happy?

There was nothing Angel could do to protect you, but he could give you advice on how to protect yourself.

“Just do what he says. The consequences aren’t worth going against his word.”

He hadn’t planned on getting so close to you; he had tried to scare you off with cruelties, but you never minded. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake you. He tried to keep his distance and went out of his way to avoid you. You must have taken the hint and stopped bothering him like he’d wanted.

He didn’t owe you anything, so why did your absence make him feel worse? Why did he feel like something was missing?

Angel found his answers not long after.

He'd followed the muffled sound of choked sobs to your studio, pausing outside the cracked door. Against his better judgment, he peeked inside.

He’s met with the sight of you huddled in your vanity seat, knees raised to your chest, and your face buried in your arms.

“Doll?”

You raise your head at the sound of Angel’s voice, rushing to wipe away tears. You greet him with the best smile you can manage.

How miserable you must look to him, with smudged mascara and puffy eyes.

“I’m sorry for bothering you so often, Angie.” With how hoarse your voice is, he suspects you’ve been crying for a while. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just felt so alone, you know?”

He does. He knows better than anyone.

It suddenly occurs to him how much of an asshole he’s been. You didn’t deserve the shit he’s been giving you.

He'd put up walls ever since he signed away his freedom; he couldn’t trust anybody. He thought nobody could understand what kind of shit he’s been through, but then you came along. You do understand because you’re going through it.

You’re all each other has.

“Don’t cry for the bastard. He doesn’t deserve your tears.” You look like you’re about to apologize again, but he continues. “Listen, I’m sorry for being such a douchebag lately. You didn’t do nothing wrong. We’ve only got each other in this shithole.”

You smile brightly, unsure what caused the sudden change in attitude, but happy nonetheless. “Right, together, we’re not alone.”

So began your unlikely friendship.

Unfortunately, Valentino wasn’t nearly as enthused. His obsession grew to new heights when you befriended Angel Dust. This manifested itself in the form of longer studio hours and even rougher sex.

Seeing you get along on set made his blood boil. The final straw was the stupid grin you sent Angel’s way. How dare you flirt with that slut! How dare he grin back!

You both clearly needed to be reminded of your status. Since you liked each other so much, he would be happy to give his blessings. Why, he’d personally see to your union.

Later that evening, you found yourself back on set, blindfolded and gagged. The cold nipped at your bare skin. Valentino kept the studios cold to keep your nipples perked. The handcuffs keeping your hands pinned to the bed post provided little comfort.

The sound of the film crew setting up around you sent heat to your sex. You couldn’t swallow the feeling of disgust residing in your throat; how could you enjoy this? Even amongst the buzz of conversations, you could easily pick out the click of Valentino’s healed boots. You wait for the familiar call to begin filming, yet you do not find it.

It’s only when a pair of hands, strangely familiar, find their way to your chest that you realize the set began. The whole situation strikes you as strange, but what could you do anyhow? Nothing would change the outcome. In the end, all you’d receive for your curiosity would be a nasty bruise.

So you brush off your worries and focus on the sensation of soft hands groping at your chest, teasing your nipples. You can’t help but lean into their gentle touches; the familiarity comforting.

The way they glide across your skin—as if searching—you wonder if they’re blindfolded too. Shivers run across your spine as they spread your legs, the cool air kissing your core. The bed shifts as your film partner settles between your thighs, their hands never leaving you.

Fingers prod at your entrance, sinking in easily. Your head spins at the sudden intrusion. As they finger and stretch your hole, you struggle to maintain composure. Each motion was intentional and practiced. You could feel the slick gather below you in a thick puddle. Somehow, they knew how to work you just right.

Droplets of pre-cum smeared against your skin as their cock brushed up against your thigh.

Unable to wait any longer, you tried lifting your hips away from their fingers. You wanted more; you wanted to be filled.

Your desire clouded any creeping shame or embarrassment. You never wanted this; why shouldn’t you enjoy the pleasure being given?

The hand lingering on your hip stills you with surprising strength; another set of hands you didn’t know they had pushes your thighs up to your chest. Desire clouds your thoughts, never once questioning the owner of said hands.

They guide their cock to your entrance, driving it in without warning—the sudden stretch takes your breath away. Though easier to accommodate than Valentino’s, you still find yourself pushed past your limits.

Little time is given to adjust; their pace is rough but controlled. Waves of pleasure burn through you. 

Your moans and pleas are swallowed up by the gag. Tears of pleasure and pain gather in your eyes, darkening the fabric of your blindfold. It hurts so good; the intensity building in your core threatens to snap. A particularly rough thrust sends powerful shockwaves throughout your body.

They shudder against you, their pace stuttering for only a brief moment. They were too busy changing their own bliss. You writhe against your binds as the heat within tightens once more, all too soon. Your pleas for clemency are muffled.

Valentino watches with great interest, languidly stroking his own length as you're brought back to the edge of pleasure. You were so sensitive and expressive.

His favorite slut being forced to use his personal toy wasn’t a sight he thought he’d enjoy. He’d initially been reluctant, only convinced by the masses demanding your collaboration.

Now he couldn’t wait for the reveal—to see the despair of fucking your only friend. Commanding his toys to fuck like dolls was fun; maybe he’d do it again some time.

He watched closely as Angel’s hips stuttered, pace becoming erratic, and fingers pressing deep into your thighs. The heat of his climax sends you over the edge. With your ears ringing and your heart pounding, you feel dizzy. Darkness swallows up your vision.

Valentino makes note of your limpness, suddenly struck by an idea. He strides over to Angel, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you flirting with my toy?” He didn’t miss the way Angel tenses. “Well, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Wasting no time, he wrenched the blindfold off.

Angel’s reaction is more than he’d hoped for. Horror and disgust flash in his eyes as he scrambles to pull out of you. He tumbled off the bed in his urgency and crumpled at Val’s feet in despair.

Angel can feel his stomach in his throat, panis rising.

“Aw, did you not like my gift?” Valentino mocks him, relishing in the pitiful display. “Well, too bad. Pick yourself up and get ready to do it again.”

For a moment, Angel is unresponsive. He has to do that all over again? He has to violate you? He can’t do that to you; it would break you.

Buzzing under the thick layer of disgust creeps darker desires: to touch and tease your skin, to sink into your warmth. To do it all over again.

He doesn't notice the way his dick responds, but Valentino certainly does. How unexpected!

“Holy shit, are you hard again? Does the thought of raping your friend turn you on that much? I wonder what your friend will think?” He can taste your fear and anguish already. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”

Angel's fear is palpable and thick. He doesn’t want to lose you. When you open your eyes, the little sanctuary you've built together will never be the same.

You should feel something, but you can only feel empty as your only friend splits you open against both of your wills. Averting his eyes, he rocks into you. Valentino’s voice hardly registers at all. 

“Don’t act so shy, Angelcakes. Go on, fuck them with your eyes like you usually do. If I don’t see some eye contact, there will be consequences for your dearest friend.”

With your eyes connected, you can’t pretend anymore. This is happening. This is real. 

You only have each other, but together you created a nightmare you can’t escape. At least you’re not alone—closer than you’ve ever been.