#far cry 6 all weapons

[whumptober]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST

Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!

Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year's playlist can be found here.

The 'Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt' post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics' post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Event Info & Rules

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)

#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Frequently Asked Questions

Please read this before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

PROMPTS

Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.

WORKS

Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.

POSTING

Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).

Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!

[softfem-dom]

paola // 20 // she ! her // spanish // aries MAIN MASTERLIST !!!

X MEN BOT LIST : (my proudest works 🫧)

og logan howlett [1,]NOTHING TO COME BACK TO -logan has the bad habit of disappearing for months to go on his solo missions. however, this time it seems like he almost had nothing to come back to. [tw : attempt]. [platonic!]. [2,]HIS CUB -logan presumed of having his 'animal instincts' under control, but all that big talk flies out of the window when some stupid guards try to harm his cubyou. [platonic!]. [3,]LIKE A CRYING BABY -everyone knows logan is not good with kids. But when you, the sweet thing that wasn't aware he regenerated, started bawling your eyes out for him, he realized he had a soft spot. [platonic!]. [4,]LIKE A WILD ANIMAL -when logan realized you had the same mutation as him, he pushed you away to ensure you wouldn't turn out like him. At the end, you ended up just like him just because he left when he was needed the most. Who's the dangerous weapon now, huh, Logan? [younger!reader / not strictly platonic] [5,]BAD TIME TO COME AROUND -logan just wants peace and quiet while his body recovers from a mission, but you're hurt too and just want to spend a bit of time with your fave old man. [platonic!]. [6,]GLITTERY LOVE 🫧-logan is a bitter old man, and you're a ray of sunshine. charles is totally aware of this and that's why he forced him to spend time with you as therapy for his burdened mind. [platonic! / sunshine!reader]. [7,]TEST TUBE BABY 🫧-both logan's and wade's DNA has gotten mixed up to create a brand new weapon x, you. Lucky you, one of your 'fathers' found you and now logan's stuck with cooparenting you. [platonic! / kinda daughter!reader]. [8,]CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT HER T-T-T-T-FACE 🫧-even as gruff as he is, logan is still just a man, and having a coworker with such nice titties is sure as hell distracting. [9,]MATING SEASSON KINDA STUFF -logan hates his animalistic instincts for putting him through this strange rut, but he definetely doesn't hate that you're the one taking care of him. [10,]FLYING PROBLEMS -logan and flying don't get on too well, and you're seated next to a far more grumpy and stressed than usual Wolverine when turbulences hit. [11,]LIKE STRAY CATS -a weapon-x war veteran and a child-supersoldier experiment. can they get along? [platonic!]. [12,]JUST. ONE. NORMAL. NIGHT -there hasn't been a calm night, a normal night, in your life ever since you joined the x-men. with a knock upon your door, you prepare yourself to another announcement for an emergency mission, only to be met by a restless logan that can't sleep. [13,]LITTLE TROUBLEMAKER -logan is always walking around with a cigar in his mouth and faking to be annoyed by everything. what will happen when he catches the certified comic relief troublemaker of the school running around past curfew? [platonic!].

+[14,]DADDY'S FARMHAND 🫧-cowboy!au. your father has hired someone to help him out in the farm and, of fucking course, it had to be this hot man that seems to take joy in the way your eyes wander whenever he's around.

[15,]KITTY CAT, KITTY CAT RUN 🫧-logan just woke up in a strange white room full of medical supplies, the last thing he remembers is getting attacked by some guys that were trying to bring him back to the lab. Believing he is back to be experimented on, he flees the scene, only to bump into somethingsomeone soft. And he doesn't even know what happened, but just at the scent of the mutant he collided into, his claws retracted instinctively and he felt a "mhrp"ing sound building at the back of his throath like the sound kitty cats make when they see something they like [16,]IRON DEFICIENCY PRINCESS 🫧-logan thought that being a part of the X-Men meant just going on missions whenever required, but it turns out that he's stuck playing the tired and concerned father figure of the girl with the lowest iron in the whole damn world. That and the fact he has to visit the infirmary at least twice a week to make sure you ain't dying after fainting while going up the stairs.

old man logan

[1,]ACHING BONES AND WARM HANDS 🫧-he's getting old and his bones are aching, but you're young and your mutation makes you run warmer, so.. how about you help your old man out, bub? [2,]OLD MAN WITH ANGER ISSUES -everyone has a different way of dealing with grief. while you're one to drown in it, logan burns with it, irremediably burning everyone in a close range due to his own anger. [platonic!].

worst wolverine

[1,]A JOKE TO HIM -when someone who isn't your wolverine discovers a you that isn't his you, thinks can go downhill very fast. especially when you've seemed to fail at everything his version of you had accomplished without a sweat. [platonic!]. [2,]WADE LIKES HIS MERCH 🫧-when, after the 'worst' version of logan moved into your appartment, you wake up in pyjamas you certainly didn't go to sleep with, you're forced to get out of your room with 'wolverine's babygirl' written on your ass. [3,]MOMMYPOOL -after falling into the void, logan discovers that maybe not all deadpool's are that bad. not when he's got the hottest one paying attention to him. [4,]THAT TIME OF THE MONTH -just logan realizing how much wade babies you when you're in that time of the month. +wade wilson [platonic!]. [5,]"I CALL DIBS ON THE KID!" -it seems that, while trapped between grumpy logan and yapper deadpool, you're not going to get any sleep at all during this flight.. +wade wilson [platonic!] [6,]"SORRY, MOMMY?" + "WADE STFU" -since sending wade and logan alone and togheter to a mission is the recipe for murder, they decided to send you to make sure they got the mission done instead of fighting all the time. +wade wilson [7,]GOD'S BEST JOKES -bascially the scene of the angry speech in the car, but instead of yelling at wade he's yelling at you (angst-oriented). [8,]GIRL INTERRUPTED SYNDROME -wade had rambled to logan about everything in his life, so logan is damn near confused as heck as to what the fuck is wade doing bringing inside a girl that looked pulled right out of the 'girl, interrupted' movie. [platonic!] [9,]DRUNKEN RUTS -logan can't remember going into a rut ever since his young days as a womanizer, trauma response he guessed. However now that he is in a safe place and surrounded by trusted people, he finds his first rut in decades hitting him like a train. what a sweet torture is to have you by his side through it.

wade wilson (earth-10005).

[1,]ROOKIE WITH A MOUTH -out of the whole X-Team, wade wilson seems to be the one that talks the most. a yapper, rambler, however you want to call it, he runs his mouth day and night. yet, there seems to be only one thing that shuts him up: you. [2,] ELEVATOR PROBLEMS 🫧-basically the elevator scene from xmen wolverine: origins, except instead of being stuck during a mission the whole team is stuck after one. You just all want to take a shower and crash on your bed, but you can still feel Wade oogling you while he runs his mouth. [3,] GUESS 🫧-nothing could've prepared you and the rest of your team for the wild ride Wade and his big mouth were going to throw you in. Seems like the rookie has been daydreaming about the colour of your panties when you catch him staring. [4,] CLOSER -Wade has a big problem with keeping it in his pants whenever he sees you fighting, maybe it's because you let him give you a ride into poundtown anytime he asks (just for the sake of shuting him up). But the way you've just squashed a dude's neck with your thighs has him wanting to fuck you like an animal. [4,] BRAT 🫧-if something is clear about the young mercenary in your team is that he is a brat. what will happen when William pairs you up with him and he starts messing up your plan just to get your attention?

[1,]HANLDE HIM 🫧-after weapon xi, probably the most dangerous experiment in the base, kills his handler. Your boss decides it's you who'll handle him. [2,]NOT JUST A WEAPON 🫧-after logan joined the school, he managed to convince charles of sending an 'expedition team' to the Project X base he escaped from. However, he is met by an old friend that was supposed to be dead and rotting, and that now is stuck to your side like the clingy merc he remembered him to be only.. less chatty.

wade wilson

[1,]SCAR FOR A SCAR -wade seems completely adamant on not showing you his face, while most of the people at the X-Mannor (colossus, negasonic, yukio, and even logan) have seen his face he refuses to let you see it. so, when you're now the one with nasty scars that you won't show him, he pulls an offer to the table "scar for a scar, eh, pumpkin?" [platonic!] [2,]PUSHED TO THE LIMITS (WOLVERINE #22) -after seeing with your own eyes the way wolverine dismembered deadpool to only half-chest and an arm, you the teen-age apprentice of deadpool, spend the whole next night watching him regenerate out of sheer anxiety. [platonic!] [3,]"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE KID SAW IT?!?" -deadpool 2. after waking up on the X-Mansion couch with colossus towering over him, wade finds out the one to ditch on him about blowing himself to pieces had been you. And now you're as traumatized by the stunt he pulled as to not want to leave your room. well, sucks. [platonic!] [4,]THAT TIME OF THE MONTH -just logan realizing how much wade babies you when you're in that time of the month. +logan howlett [platonic!]. [5,]"I CALL DIBS ON THE KID!" -it seems that, while trapped between grumpy logan and yapper deadpool, you're not going to get any sleep at all during this flight.. +logan howlett [platonic!] [6,]"SORRY, MOMMY?" + "WADE STFU" -since sending wade and logan alone and togheter to a mission is the recipe for murder, they decided to send you to make sure they got the mission done instead of fighting all the time. +logan howlett

+[7,]A SURPRISE VISIT -marvel future avengers oriented. after getting attached to you since you'd always open the door of the tower for him so he didn't have to break a sweat in avoiding the security system, deadpool comes to ring the door once again only to be met with iron man instead of you. [tw: attempt] [platonic!]

[nvirskies]

sand - c. la rue

idea taken from one of @star-girl69 's asks about married clarisse and immediately went to think about how the vast majority of greek demigods didn't get to live past their 20's or even teen years... and the survivor's guilt that would come with being one of the few lucky enough to live longer.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, traumatic nightmare flashbacks, descriptions of violence, descriptions of blood + war, spoilers for TLO, set after both reader and clarisse leave CHB about 6-8 years into the future, google translated Greek term of endearment, crying, survivor's guilt, platonic RueGard, ooc Clarisse, she's matured more over time and more articulate with her feelings and words

summary: clarisse wakes up from a particularly bad nightmare in the middle of the night, reader comforts her through a breakdown

wife!fem!demigod!reader x wife!clarisse la rue

word count: 2.2k

καρδιά μου (kardiá mou) - my heart

Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου (I kardiá mou eínai i kardiá sou) - my heart is your heart

"but you have more pieces of me than than desert has sand, and I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand" sand, alchemical: vol. 1, dove cameron

taglist: @lvrue @star-girl69 @azrielsdiary @petitegavotte @b0ok-lover

men, nsfw, non-sapphic, 16-/19+ dni

Greek demigods fell in love hard and fast with an unmatched intensity. They normally didn’t live long enough to even envision themselves in their adult lives, and why would they? Every day was a struggle to stay alive with monsters coming in from all angles and quests most didn’t come back from.

And that was why, as soon as the two of you graduated high school, Clarisse got down on a knee and proposed with the knowledge that you were the one she would want to spend the rest of her life, however long or short, with.

When you two had graduated college, the next thing in the books was to make it official in the courthouse, and that was what you had done. No extravagant party or ceremony, just a quiet day in the courthouse and a night in to celebrate.

But no matter how far the two of you ran from Camp Half-Blood, the nightmares never went away, never got better. As the years passed, more of the people you had considered friends died. One after the other, falling like cursed dominos, helplessly standing by as they all tumbled down.

Soon, the nightmares became more about the people that were lost than the monsters themselves. Nightly plagues of searingly painful memories from watching the life drain from so many demigods’ eyes burned themselves in both of your psyches.

All you could do was hope Charon would be kind enough to ferry them across the Styx without his payment of a silver coin.

And tonight certainly hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary with the two of you and your limbs interlaced in a protective embrace while sleep claimed your minds, as if the both of you could protect each other from the monsters both in and outside.

Your head, nestled into her chest. Her deep, rhythmic breathing made your hair flutter ever so slightly as she exhaled. Her arms, wrapped loosely around your waist, hands not-so-sneakily under the baggy shirt of hers you had stolen to wear as pajamas for the night. It was all perfect. Too perfect.

You would be damned fools to think that peace would last for so long. Demigods didn’t get peace, they didn’t get tranquility, and they especially didn’t get uninterrupted domestic bliss.

Unbeknownst to you, Clarisse’s face contorted into one of distress. Her arms pulled you in closer subconsciously as the all too familiar face of Morpheus greeted her with a sly smirk on his face in her dreams.

In moments, she was transported back to the Battle of Manhattan.

She was seventeen again.

Blood was everywhere. Abandoned weapons lay on the floor, the hands that once gripped them tightly, now loose and limp. Shrill screams echoed throughout the air, all cut short by gut-wrenching sounds of fatal injury. Metal cut through flesh. Acid burnt through metal. Flames licked and greedily consumed anything and everything as fuel.

Her feet felt heavy, her hands numb. She could do nothing but stand and watch it all unfold before her own eyes, forced to relive the carnage and devastation that had ripped through Manhattan on that fateful day.

Morpheus’ voice whispered in her right ear, the sound of it sending an uneasy chill down her spine. “Daughter of Ares. A fitting dream, no? Your father must have been proud of you for the way you fought after… well, I’ll let you relive that, too.” Before she could blink, she was transported to the moment right after Silena had been sprayed by the Lydian Drakon.

Clarisse was too late. She had always been too late.

She was back on her knees, choking and weeping bitterly as Silena lay in her arms, watching as life slowly left her once-lively eyes.

What kind of a warrior even was she? So weak that she couldn’t even protect her friend? Too weak to protect the girl who had adorned her armor and led her siblings into battle?

Just as Clarisse reached out to touch Silena’s face to wipe away the one mark of smudged eyeliner that the Aphrodite girl normally would never have even allowed to happen in the past, she was jerked back to consciousness, eyes flying open and arms almost crushing your sleeping form momentarily as she came to.

No longer was she in Manhattan, instead sheltered in the familiarly adorned walls of your shared bedroom. Upon the walls hung framed pictures of joyous times past and her sword collection, among other things.

Familiar faces stared back at her, some faces that would never age again. Immortalized memories of times that would never happen again. Everyone was dead or scattered across the globe.

A particular picture caught Clarisse’s eye. It was a portrait of Silena that she had commissioned one of the Apollo kids to draw for the daughter of Aphrodite’s seventeenth birthday.

She never lived to see that day.

Her eyes locked with Silena’s in the drawing for a moment, and that moment was one too much as hot tears began to prick in the corners of her eyes.

She had inadvertently woken you up with the way her arms tightened around your waist in a near vice grip, slowly coming to your senses. No longer were her breaths slow and rhythmic, their steadfast pattern replaced by one that was erratic and shallow. The once-steady thumping cadence of her heart as it beat in her chest was now quickened, all of which you could hear with your head having been nestled into her chest.

Craning your head to look up at her, you were greeted with the sight of Clarisse desperately trying to silently blink back tears and control her own breathing.

Hurriedly, you pushed yourself up off her chest and tugged the blankets off the two of you before sitting down on her lap. You took note of the way her hands had never left your waist, holding onto you as if she were drowning and you were the last life ring thrown out.

It wasn’t anything you and Clarisse hadn’t dealt with before. The nightmares had been a part of your lives as far back as you could remember, it just came with the territory of being a demigod. But they never got any easier as time went on.

She watched silently with eyes brimming with unshed tears, pleading wordlessly with you to do something, anything to make it all go away.

“Let’s switch, yeah? You can lay on me and completely cover me if you want, love,” you offered up, a melancholy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Wordlessly, she nodded and you slipped off her lap, laying back where she had just been moments ago.

Gently patting your chest, you motioned for her to rest her head on it, knowing that the rest of her body would soon follow, completely engulfing your form with hers. After she had positioned herself, her arms snaked around your waist again as she simply held you for a few moments, her face pressed into your chest as tears slowly soaked into your shirt.

One hand reached out to gently run along the length of her back, the motion meant to soothe. A few beats passed in silence before you spoke in a hushed whisper, the bedroom devoid of sound beyond the two of you breathing in tandem with each other.

“You hear that, love? That’s my heart,” you murmured softly, craning your neck to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “It’s beating, beating for you. Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου.”

She didn’t respond beyond releasing another shaky sob into your chest and tightening her grip around your body, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t need her to talk just yet.

“You’re also η καρδιά μου, you know that, right? My heart, my wife, my love, my everything. And I’m yours. Entirely yours, and I”m not going anywhere.” You craned your neck again to press another kiss against the crown of her head, hand never stopping its path of running gently along the length of her back.

“I would go down to the depths of Tartarus for you. I would challenge Hades himself to a fight if it meant I had even a glimmer of a chance in getting you back.”

Never once did you try to rush her into talking or shushing her tears. You knew her better than you knew yourself, and giving her time to let everything out was the best thing you could do for her at the moment.

You were her safe space, the one woman that she could let her walls down around. She wasn’t Ares’ star daughter in your arms, she was just Clarisse. No expectations dangling over her head, just open arms and understanding.

After another few quiet moments, she finally spoke up in between half-choked sobs, whispering so quietly that her voice was nearly inaudible, ��Silena… Manhattan… should have been able to save her,” before letting her face fall back down onto your chest, releasing another pained cry.

“She’s gone- a-and everyone else too- why me?”

Her question left you speechless, mouth partly opened in an attempt to come up with a reassuring response, but nothing seemed to come to mind immediately. It was rare for this to happen, as you normally had just the right words at the top of your tongue, weaving them as Arachne once wove tapestries on her loom.

“They’re all gone and- and- ”

“Shh, love…” you cut her off, gently pulling her head up to look her in the eyes, your other hand leaving her back to wipe the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks with the pad of your thumb. “Please, don’t go back into that self-sacrificial spiral. Talk to me, tell me what the dream was about?”

She only shook her head in response, unwilling to divulge details of the memory that had shattered your night of otherwise perfect proportions.

Deflating back on top of you, she whispered, “They’re all gone, and we’re one of the only ones remaining. It was like every time another one of them died, that small part of myself that I gave to them died as well.”

Her arms that were wrapped around your waist tightened for a moment before going limp along with the rest of her body as she lay atop you, her head pressed against your chest.

“Love…” you began softly as one of your hands found its way to her head and carded gently through her curls. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. None of it was your fault. We didn’t ask to be born, to be thrown into this mess of a world and tossed around like pawns in the gods’ game of chess with our lives.”

“We didn’t ask for this life, and we were so young at the time. For fuck’s sake, we were only seventeen- we hadn’t even made out yet. We hadn’t graduated high school yet, there were so many things we couldn’t control.

“None of it was your fault, I promise you. You were so brave, and you did everything you could.” She stayed silent as you spoke, the only sounds coming from her were the soft, shaky breaths as she sniffled and burrowed her face further into your shirt.

“I can’t explain to you why so many things had to happen, that’s up to the Fates. I can’t give you the pieces of yourself back that you lost when we kept losing everyone,” you murmured whilst your hands kept on with their idle motions.

It shattered your heart to give her such an incomplete answer when you knew it was tearing her apart inside to live with it all, but there was nothing you could do beyond offer solace and comfort. “And for that, I am so, so sorry. But the one thing I can do is keep the piece you’ve granted me to keep, safe and sound.”

She only nodded in response, not trusting herself to speak in fear of her own vulnerability. Her tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn’t care. All that was important was that Clarisse was here, in your arms, and slowly calming down.

Clarisse knew just as well as you did that everyone had done the best they could with the circumstances given, and that the loss affected you just as deeply. But she didn’t dig into that, it would be a can of worms to open for another time, another sleepless night where your own troubles caught up with you after running from them for so long.

And so, the rest of the night stretched on into early morning, the two of you half-awake, seeking silent solace in each other until sunlight crept into the bedroom through the cracks of the curtains the next day.

The two of you might have been running from your trauma like runners to a marathon, but at least you were running hand-in-hand with matching strides.

[newobsessionweekly]

One Rule Down

Part 2 of The rules are made to be broken series (18+)

part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x female!TO!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Warnings: NFSW, explicit sexual content. 18+, mentions of blood, shooting, GSW, pain, r being shot, not proofread yet.

Summary: Tim breaks one rule after you got hurt on a call.

Smut A/N: def not the fic I had in mind to post. I seriously forgot abt this series and I loved writing it. Still in my break, but found this in my drafts and I said why not. @senjoritanana thanks for reminding me of this series ✨

Requested: no Words: 1.9k GIF not mine, credits to the owner!

The radio crackled to life with the urgent call—a report of a disturbance at a convenience store on the outskirts of the city. Without hesitation, you and your rookie sprang into action, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you raced toward the scene.

Arriving at the store, you were met with chaos. Shattered glass littered the pavement, and panicked screams filled the air as bystanders fled in all directions. Nolan took cover behind the shop, scanning the area for any sign of danger, while you positioned yourself nearby, ready to support him at a moment's notice.

"LAPD! Drop your weapons!" you demanded, but the only response was something far away from cooperation.

A group of armed men emerging from the store, their faces obscured by masks as they brandished weapons with lethal intent. You're outnumbered, you thought to yourself.

"7-Adam-15, requesting backup at the 6077 W 3rd street. Eight armed men, no sight of cooperation." you radioed, watching over Nolan's.

You nodded your head, silently telling him backup is on its way and to proceed only if necessary before help arrives.

But before you could even react, a figure emerged behind Nolan, a weapon glinting in their hand. Instinct took over as you lunged forward, pushing Nolan out of harm's way just as the gunman opened fire.

As you moved to shield Nolan from an oncoming barrage of bullets, a searing pain ripped through your side, causing you to stumble backward with a cry of agony. Blood stained your uniform as you collapsed to the ground, your vision swimming with pain and adrenaline.

Pain exploded through your body as the bullet struck true, sending you crashing to the ground in a heap. The world spun around you as you struggled to catch your breath, the taste of copper lingering on your tongue as darkness threatened to consume you.

"7-Adam-15, requesting backup and R/A to my location, officer down!" you heard Nolan's voice crackle over the radio, his words a distant echo in your ears as you fought to stay conscious. "I repeat, officer down!" Through blurred vision, you watched as Nolan returned fire, his movements swift and precise as he engaged the gunman in a fierce firefight.

But as the minutes dragged on, your strength waned, your vision growing dimmer with each passing moment. The pain was unbearable, a searing heat that radiated through your body, but still, you refused to give up.

With every ounce of strength you could muster, you reached for your radio, your fingers trembling as you struggled to make contact with dispatch. "Backup… R/A… officer down," you managed to choke out, your voice barely a whisper as darkness threatened to claim you.

As Officer Bradford heard Nolan's panicked voice crackling over the radio, a cold chill ran down his spine, sending shivers of fear coursing through his veins. Without a moment's hesitation, he knew something was terribly wrong with you, and he couldn't bear the thought of you in danger.

Ignoring all protocol and the rules you both agreed upon, Tim threw caution to the wind and bolted into action, his heart pounding in his chest as he raced through the streets of Los Angeles to get to you. Beside him, Lucy Chen clung to her seat, her eyes wide with concern as she tried to keep up with Tim's breakneck speed.

"Backup… R/A… officer down," your voice echoed through the radio, broken and shattered as his heart sank, tightening the grip on the steering wheel.

Arriving at the scene, Tim didn't even bother assessing the situation—he simply rushed to your side, his heart in his throat as he took in the sight of you lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath you. Panic gripped him like a vice as he knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch your face, his touch gentle yet urgent.

"Hey, hey, Y/N, can you hear me?" Tim's voice was hoarse with emotion, his eyes scanning your pale face for any sign of consciousness. "Hang in there, okay? Help is on the way."

It's been months since you both agreed to those rules and everything was by the book. You were seeing Tim almost every night, finding solace in each other's arms, pleasure blooming between you.

Despite his efforts to remain composed, Tim's façade of strength crumbled in the face of your injuries, his hands shaking as he applied pressure to your wound, his mind racing with a million different fears and possibilities. He knew he had broken the rule you both agreed upon, but in that moment, all he could think about was you—your safety, your well-being, your life hanging in the balance.

As the minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly, Tim's anxiety only grew, his heart hammering in his chest as he prayed for the sound of approaching sirens. He didn't care about the suspects still at large or the chaos unfolding around him—all that mattered was you, lying there before him, fighting for your life.

He had broken the cardinal rule, the one about not letting your personal lives disturb your professional duties. And in doing so, he had shattered the fragile balance you had worked so hard to maintain.

Yet, amidst the turmoil of your emotions, there was a part of you that couldn't help but feel grateful for Tim's presence by your side. Despite his gruff exterior and tendency to push people away, he had rushed to your aid without a moment's hesitation, his concern and fear evident in every word and gesture.

As for Tim, he couldn't shake the sense of guilt that weighed heavily on his shoulders. He had broken the rules, betrayed the trust of the one person who meant more to him than he cared to admit. He cursed himself for allowing his emotions to cloud his judgment, as he reached out to take your hand in his, a silent vow formed in Tim's heart: no matter what the future held, he would do everything in his power to protect you and keep you safe, even if it meant breaking the rules one more time.

The front door opened with a loud noise, drifting you off sleep. Tangled in your sheets, enjoying the silence of some time away from the chaos, it was your last night before you're back on duty.

You haven't heard from Tim since you were shot. After a short visit from him while you were in hospital, too drugged to process what happened, you were left with a buzzing phone, messages from Nolan and Lucy making your days pass agonizingly slow.

There he was today, holding some takeaway in one hand, blocking the light from the hallway penetrate your bedroom. He was tall and imposing, wearing the uniform that made him look like a Greek God.

You didn't make a sound, waiting for him to make the first move "Bought you some food."

He motioned to the bags in his hand as you secretly thanked him. John and Lucy took shifts to drop by your house and bring you something to eat, especially in the first days, when it was impossible for you to move more than ten steps without cursing between your teeth and question the day you decided to become a cop. You don't regret it, but for your safety it was better if you would've chosen another path.

"Thank you," you replied to him, as you tried to maintain a serious expression. You tried to make things as easier as they were, not showing any signs of your feelings, but it was in vain.

Things weren't going to be back as how they were before Tim broke that rule. It wasn't just about the rules, it was about the consequences of his actions, leaving two rookies to handle a situation way out of their league as he rushed to your side, those dangerous men almost slipping away.

Neither of you didn't say a word as you finished the food. He knew he messed up, and it was funnier than it should've been. Tim was the one who came up with those fucking rules and he was the one breaking them. You did it yourself, officer.

Before you could process, you found yourself swirling your tongue around his in a desperate desire. Tim wasn't far behind you, catching up immediately the rhythm of your movements, not backing up any second. He needed this more than he wanted to admit. He needed your touch. He needed to touch you and make sure you're okay.

Keeping his distance in a moment he knew you wished someone to be there by your side, was killing him. But it was necessary, since both of you started to drift off from the rules. And Tim always goes by book. Well, with some exceptions that happen to include you.

Longing for his touch, for him helping you feel anything but pain, decided to get rid of your clothes as quickly as you could. You needed to feel him inside you, to make you whole again.

He was moving painfully slow, memorizing every inch of your skin. You let him guide the rhythm, as you enjoyed his hands on your body, driving you crazy with every kiss placed on your skin. You run your fingers lightly down his body, feeling his boner pressing hard on you.

You wanted him inside you, you wanted to feel him and forget about everything that happened. He traced the shape of your wound, as he teased your nipples slowly, leaving warm marks on them.

"Damn, you are so perfect." he breathed, enjoying the sight of your curves embraced by the warm light laying over them. All of your scars are visible, letting both of you vulnerable. But it didn't stop you.

He cupped your cheeks, pressing his forehead against yours as he closed the distance separating you, making you escape a loud moan of desire that you were holding for too long.

Both your bodies were filled with a warm wetness as he moved slowly inside you, like he didn't want to cause you any more pain. His kisses were sweet and tender, caressing your body as his movements drove you crazy any second. Something in his movements changed, being more gentle, like he didn't want it to stop.

Something in his motion made you wonder if it has to do with his fear of losing you, the same fear that clouded his mind the other days.

The rhythm became more chaotic and intense as you threw your head back into the pillows, tugging on the sheets as pleasure exploded between you in synchrony. Digging your fingers into Tim's shoulders as you locked his gaze, the climax was approached with a sudden burst of energy, making your bodies shake uncontrollably as he was buried deep inside.

After the moment consumed, you thought he'd disappear into the night so suddenly as his arrival. But he didn't, he hold you close, afraid if he'd let go of you, he'll never see you again.

He couldn't understand his feelings, why he desperately wanted to make sure you're okay. You're a grown up woman who can take care of yourself, but still he was there afraid he can't protect you. And he wanted to be able to protect you. In none of the rules wasn't specified that you are not allowed to care for each other, and he placed his care into the professional relationship. But it was far from the truth.

[syeniites]

I’ve seen a few people comment on the fandom’s overall tendency to understate Trimax!Wolfwood’s fear of Vash’s power/nature and perhaps exaggerate the quasi-religious devotion aspect of their dynamic, and I find it very interesting because from my perspective, all of that is heavily dependent on when in the manga timeline you’re looking at.

Because it doesn’t take Wolfwood that long to start believing in Vash’s good intentions (“A true gunman who only looks on the bright side of life?” - TM #3), but it takes far longer for him to trust that Vash can remain in control of his powers when faced with Knives (“You know what kind of guy he is, but he’s also the trigger to a power that could end the world” - TM #6).

The concern here is twofold: that Vash might ‘go off’ in a moment of extreme emotional distress, as he nearly did at Dragon’s Nest, and that he might be used as a weapon by Knives, like at July and Fifth Moon.

Despite acutely recalling the terror he felt on Ship 5 with the whole crying-blood thing (“That behemoth will splatter us like insects” - TM #2), Wolfwood seems primarily worried about the latter by the time they reach the Ark (“Is it that easy to eliminate half the threat?” - TM #6).

But then three things happen:

Knives tries to absorb Vash and is almost consumed himself instead, demonstrating that Vash’s power is the stronger of the two.

Wolfwood prays to God during the fight with Chapel (“Can murderers only be murderers?… Am I wrong?” - TM #8), and Vash is the one who answers while in full wingèd protector mode (“You are not wrong, Wolfwood!!”).

Vash deliberately activates his Angel Arm and then chooses not to set it off, thus reclaiming his bodily autonomy and freeing himself and Wolfwood from the Ark.

This is a huge turning point in their relationship! Wolfwood “bet his life on” Vash despite “fear[ing] death twice as much as others,” and Vash proved that he was right to do so. Which is why, in Wolfwood’s final confrontation with Chapel and LR, we get The speech of all time:

“Shall I tell you my hope? In this era, especially because of the era we live in, he will be able to do something. His unmatched earnestness… I believe in it. Are you scared? He has never forsaken anything” (TM #10).

Truly nothing in Trimax makes me more feral than those last two lines: the way Wolfwood invokes that fear again, but this time, he himself is exempt from it. Chapel is the one who should fear Vash, precisely because Vash would never forsake Wolfwood as Chapel suggests he did. Not when Wolfwood is one of Vash’s own.

Fear on the one side, faith on the other. Wolfwood has moved from the former to the latter.

TL;DR - In a Wolfwood Lives AU or really any scene set after they escape the Ark, it makes sense for Wolfwood not to show any particular fear of Vash’s inhuman nature and even to display signs of that sense of awe in the face of Vash’s goodness, whereas earlier in the story, it would be odd for Wolfwood to be entirely calm and accepting when Vash goes into Angel Mode™️.

[sasuhinamonth]

SASUHINA MONTH 2024 Prompts and Artist of the Year!!!

Fellas.

It's time!

Welcome to 2024! In June, we'll be hosting SHMonth2024! Thanks all for following along with us during our journey! Your patience and enthusiasm keeps us going, and we appreciate all of you!

As always, let's start with our Artist of the Year for 2024!

Mods of the SasuHina Month Event work hard to not only keep up to date with the happenings of our little part of the fandom, but we also carefully consider all our beautiful SasuHina creators! This year's Artist of the Year is always creating beauty with their works, and we want to shine a light on that!

Everyone, please congratulate Pongalia for her hard work and for being this year's SasuHina Artist of the Year!

Our dear artist always brings awe to everyone who sees her art! As you can see above, she makes the most beautiful, capturing art! Her talent is inspiring, and she's known across the fandom for her beautiful shading!

Please visit her X/Twitter to show her some love! She deserves it for all her hard work and passion!!!!

Now . . .

The time has come.

As a quick reminder, this years theme is Opposites Attract (very fitting for these two, if you ask us). SasuHina Month 2024 is happening in June, so (hopefully) you all will have some time to think and plan!

Thanks all for joining us!

We present to you: The Prompts of SHMonth2024!

Day 1

Beginnings & Ends | Inicios y Finales

New & Old | Nuevo y Viejo

Day 2

Silly & Serious | Bobo y Serio

Fail & Succeed | Fallo y Éxito

Day 3

Shy & Bold | Tímido y Audaz

Few & Many | Poco y Mucho

Day 4

Summer & Winter | Verano e Invierno

Humble & Proud | Humilde y Orgulloso

Day 5

Create & Destroy | Creación y Destrucción

Crying & Laughter | Llanto y Risas

Day 6

Friend & Enemy | Amigo y Enemigo

Empty & Full | Lleno y Vacío

Day 7

Pearl & Onyx | Perla y Ónix

Dawn & Dusk | Amanecer y Atardecer

Day 8

Hidden & Seen | Oculto y Visto

Loud & Quiet | Ruidoso y Callado

Day 9

Kind & Cruel | Amable y Cruel

Past & Future | Pasado y Futuro

Day 10

Angel & Demon | Inicios y Finales

Rain & Shine | Lluvia y Brillo

Day 11

Lost & Found | Perdido y Hallado

Color & Grayscale | Color y Escala de grises

Day 12

Cat & Dog | Perro y Gato

Tea & Coffee | Té y Café

Day 13

Glass & Stone | Vidrio y Piedra

Yin & Yang | Yin y Yang

Day 14

Early & Late | Temprano y Tarde

Far & Near | Lejano y Cerca

Day 15

Sweet & Bitter | Dulce y Amargo

Bright & Dim | Brillante y Opaco

Day 16

Apart & Together | Separados y Juntos

Deep & Shallow | Profundo y Poco profundo

Day 17

Smooth & Rough | Suave y Áspero

Admit & Deny | Admitir y Negar

Day 18

Freeze & Melt | Congelado y Derretido

Water & Fire | Agua y Fuego

Day 19

Love & Hate | Amor y Odio

Fast & Slow | Rápido y Lento

Day 20

Give & Take | Dar y Recibir

Adult & Child | Adulto y Niño

Day 21

Innocent & Guilty | Inocente y Culpable

Doubt & Trust | Dudar y Confiar

Day 22

War & Peace | Guerra y Paz

Yes & No | Sí y No

Day 23

Neat & Messy | Ordenado y Desordenado

Capture & Release | Capturar y Liberar

Day 24

Flowers & Weapons | Flores y Armas

Oblivious & Observant | Inadvertido y Observador

Day 25

Hot & Cold | Caliente y Frío

Rise & Fall | Ascenso y Caída

Day 26

Tall & Short | Alto y Bajo

Single & Married | Soltero y Casado

Day 27

Thoughtful & Selfish | Considerado y Egoísta

Forget & Remember | Olvidar y Recordar

Day 28

Magical & Ordinary | Mágico y Ordinario

Absence & Present | Ausente y Presente

Day 29

Attack & Protect | Atacar y Proteger

Always & Never | Siempre y Nunca

Day 30

Before & After | Antes y Después

Departure and Arrival | Partida y Llegada

[irenadel]

And if the devil... 1/10

Making a banner for this finally for the grand finale coming soon. Excuse to rb. Credit for the Aemond screencap goes to the wonderful Liv @barbieaemond Eventual smut, Aemond Targaryen x Maid!Reader

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

“And if the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent.”

- Farouk Gouida

He’d had nothing but contempt for you the first time he’d seen you: a too tall, mannish girl mopping up baby vomit for Helaena with less tact and grace than a stable boy. He had seen the blotchy red and white of your hands and face and had thought you one of Aegon’s cruel jests for a sister-wife he did not deserve: a freakish chambermaid for a mad princess.

And far too familiar with a lady who was in every way your better.

He told himself it was not jealousy that burnt in the pit of his stomach, brighter and wilder than Vhagar’s fire. No. It was distaste and a healthy amount of distrust, he’d felt when he’d come to visit Helaena and found you rocking her gently in your arms. You’d been in drab servant red, hair escaping your work bonnet, so strangely pale that it had made Aemond squint in immediate suspicion. Whatever it was, you were no noble companion or even one of the prettier handmaidens, just a scullery girl, dress still stained from floor scrubbing, holding a Targaryen princess and gently brushing her hair out of the way.

He’d had to control the urge to snatch her from your arms and snarl at you to leave if you wanted to keep your head… It would not have been becoming. Helaena would no doubt have found it distressing. But most of all, he feared what he would do to you the moment he’d had your pale, sickly hand in his grip. Because you had robbed him of a thing which he had not known belonged to him. His right to his sister’s pain, always so far and yet so close, because he feared the things he could say if his affection were ever to escape him. And here you were, like a thief in the night, snatching his chance before he’d even known it existed.

You’d had the common sense to leave quickly with your bucket of slops, and your eyes fixed determinedly on the floor. As if you’d known your transgression.

Helaena was not half as wise as you. Her tears had been all but gone, not there for a brother to wipe away or avenge. No forthcoming confession about Aegon that he could use as an excuse to stalk his brother’s steps and pick a fight. Just her tongue loosened by the joy of Aemond’s sudden gentleness, brought on by unwarranted competition.

You’d been recently assigned to her quarters, she’d told him and you were very good at putting the children to sleep. You weren’t squeamish like the ladies of the court, would look at Helaena’s insects without problem and think nothing of her muttering under her breath, however strange her words might be. When the children were quiet, when Helaena herself hadn’t known what else to say, you had talked to her about the great locusts of the plains of Essos, told her stories of swarms of them, climbing atop the little babes, eating the grass so thoroughly no horse or cattle could survive on what was left.

But more so, you were kind and strong and willing to put the princess to bed when her head hurt so bad she could barely think. You stayed up with her when her dreams were more a punishment than reprieve from her reality, asleep in her bed besides her or waking up for her to tend to the babies. Not a wet nurse, but you had a good head on your shoulders for fussing and crying. She had come to depend on you really. 

He had not liked it at all.

He’d blamed himself for being too engrossed in weapons training and Vhagar to have noticed your creeping, insidious influence on his sister. He’d questioned his mother and had found only her relief that at least Aegon left you alone, probably less out of kindness than out of distaste. You may have been coarse and rude and perhaps unfit to deal with anything but the lower floors of a castle, but the queen had had enough problems to deal with and at least you had a strong back and a mean glare that kept even princes away.

Not Aemond though.

He’d kept his good eye on you, and a new man-at-arms he trusted always at his sister’s side. Had even thought to corner you and put the fear of the gods in you lest you had thought Helaena alone and vulnerable. Had not even considered replacing your presence with his own, uneasy with how much the prospect thrilled him. 

You’d looked up only once: a lightning quick glare for the One-Eyed Prince before the subservient mask was firmly back in place. And Aemond had been struck strangely silent by your odd red eyes and let you scurry away. Your coarse yellow hair had been escaping its thin bonnet and he’d known immediately.

Not Valyrian blood, not a misplaced bastard, not some political trick as he had suspected…

Albino.

Oh but Helaena did have quite a fondness for broken, repellent things.

He’d been less wary then, but no less watchful. He’d stopped to stare when he saw you carrying the princess’s tray or even one of her children up and down a corridor, infallible technique for getting them to sleep at last. He’d haunted his sister’s rooms, lurking in doorways, listening in to your accent (not Flea Bottom, but not court either, no one had taught you how to speak to your betters or even how to speak well at all, it seemed…) as you told Princess Helaena about having eleven cousins and wrestling them all into bed, about taking in laundry because you couldn’t take in sewing, about a crotchety old uncle who had broken his hip out at sea and needed minding now. An uncle who resented the minding and the niece and wife that kept him and his children fed. An uncle who sounded to Aemond’s hungry, savage loneliness a lot like a father and a king.

He does not hear the other talk, even if allowed to be present for it he would not consider it. He would have dismissed it as women talk, gossip, having seldom let himself dwell on kindness instead of grievance, succor instead of retaliation. He does not hear a beloved sister tell you to stay one step ahead of the dragon, as far away as you can manage, because dragons bring nothing but fire even if they love you, warm enough until it becomes death. She should know.

It does nothing to keep Aemond from following behind you. When you took the children and their mother down to the kitchens for hot milk with honey. When any of them were achy or colicky or cranky and you would put a shawl over them, babies or mother. When you insisted the princess and her children could do with a stroll and some sun, and Aemond found his heart aching with hideous envy because he could hear his sister laughing at your snappish kitchen talk, speaking softly and intimately to you, as hungry to give the attention as to receive it. (Even as his sorry, wicked heart screams out, it was mine, all this was meant for me, how dare you, how dare you take what I didn’t know I needed!) When you sang Helaena’s babies or Helaena herself to sleep and Aemond found he had to cover his  ears against your strange, foreign crooning, that didn’t sound like King’s Landing but sounded treacherously like home. He’d had to flee to the training grounds and take out this all-consuming anger on something, drown out your husky, kind voice with the din of his sword against a shield. Hitting the wood over and over again until he tore it to splinters and Ser Criston had to hold him into stillness, knowing there was no comforting a dragon without getting burned.

“My prince.”

You would say when you fled a staircase he cornered you into.

“My prince.”

When you’d courtesy, clumsily, still too sour-faced and suspicious to do it gracefully, when he managed to catch you on your way out of Helaena’s room.

“My prince.”

The day he had decided that yes, your prince, was exactly what he’d be to you, what you’d say to him, in whatever way he’d manage to tear it from your throat, in spite of Aegon’s taunting and the visceral fear at his own woeful lack of knowledge in matters of the flesh.

Because he had decided if you had no problem taking from him, he would have no problem taking from you.

Because you’d said it to him on your way out of the washing court, bonnet gone and coarse yellow hair sticking out of your pinned braid like a frightful halo, a bright purple bruise already forming on your cheekbone, as you’d glared directly at him, challenge in your head held high, and the water splashed all across your linen apron, sticking to your skin so closely that Aemond should have had you right then and there.

Because you’d said it with a curt nod, like Ser Criston when he approved of a particularly good move Aemond had just learned in the training yard, like a general to a soldier, “My prince.”

Because he’d just seen you swing a chamber pot directly into a stable boy’s face after hearing him call Princess Helaena “daft,” bringing it swinging back to the other side of his face, contents and all, just to take a step back to bring a fist into the stable boy’s friend. Aemond had been too transfixed by the sight of your heaving chest and the splotchy red of your cheeks to intervene after you’d taken a half-hearted punch to the face, returned it in kind and thrown the now empty chamber pot at the whimpering serving boys at your feet.

“And clean up your bloody mess!” You’d said before washing your hands in the fountain and strolling out of the courtyard, about as triumphant and vicious as Prince Aemond himself had ever felt when defeating knight after knight, telling himself he was better, stronger, a more fit ruler than any of them would ever be.

“My prince,” you’d said with your curt, martial nod, with your ruby-red eyes and the split knuckles of your hand, wounds taken in the defense of Aemond’s sister, wounds that should have by right belonged to him.

He’d taken your wrist in his hand, grip monstrously strong, and watched you realize the mistake you had made in the proud tilt of your head. You had forgotten for a second that pride wasn’t for your class of people, less so when confronted by a prince of the realm. He’d watched you realize your danger and how you didn’t care, that if there was a price to pay for pride you might as well pay it… and had realized himself that he didn’t care much either. Because Aemond had decided in that moment that he liked the defiance and stubborn anger in your ruby-red gaze, just as much as he had liked the ringing din of the chamber pot breaking something in that stable boy’s face. The prince had smiled at you then, his hunting cat smile, the one men all over the Seven Kingdoms would learn to fear, as he let you pass. Your prince, you would call him again, he decided as he let you go. Your prince, he would hear you call him, on your knees, on your back and beneath him, anyway he could get you. Because he wanted it. Because he had known himself to be spoiling for a fight and would be spoiling for a fight his whole life, the moment he had gone looking for Vhagar, the largest living dragon in the world, and won her. As he would win you. On your knees, your back or beneath him, as you called him your prince, because you wanted to, not ripped out of you by fear and hope for profit but because you wanted him. He would teach you that. That there were none like him, Targaryen or otherwise. That he was your prince and more than. He would teach you this, just as he had begun to teach the world.

[rimbaud-fan-page]

Rimbaud's death, anime vs light novel: Why the change matters.

Rimbaud's death from the anime compared to the Light Novel is frankly, pathetic. I hate to say it, but it makes him seem pretty weak, especially when you consider just how powerful he is supposed to be.

Rimbaud's anime death was pretty clean

Boom

Bam

Pow

And then so on and so forth

Blah blah, I killed my partner, blah blah, im so cold, blah blah blah, oh lol nvm *dies*

Aside from the entire erasure of Verlaine, this scene differs wildly just in the way that Rimbaud died.

The Light Novel was far more bloody;

Stabby stabby. And all.

The main issue I have with the way Rimbaud dies in the Anime is it's very boring, hardly fitted to his unique character and role in the story. Just...getting punched real hard? BOOOOOO, OVERUSED. Whilst is a testament to how much this fight pushed Chuuya that he had to bring his fists into it, Chuuya punching someone to death isn't anything special.

The reason Rimbaud's Death via Scythe is so important is that he gave the scythe to the Previous Boss. He ordered for the Previous Boss to stab Chuuya through the arm, relinquishing control over that weapon. He caused his own death.

This is a perfect thematic parallel to how Rimbaud's plan also inadvertently caused his own death, his desperation to find Verlaine and solitary way of working is what meant he ended up 6 feet under. Rimbaud was a very lonely person, his ability reflects that solitude, as he says, his ability is his kingdom, only those he allows in may enter, and only those he allows out may leave. He allowed Verlaine in, and Verlaine is still in there, in a way, but his unwillingness to, for example, approach Mori about this issue, is what meant he made the brash decision to simply kill Chuuya, which didn't end well for him.

Rimbaud's violent approach, spurred by the fear of his friend's death and the aching need to get him back, is what caused his death. His own hand is the one that brought the scythe to that situation, that meant it was there for it to be stabbed through his chest, and so on and so forth, blood and blood and death.

I'm also sad we lost the pathetic visual of Rimbaud lying in a pool of his own blood, desperately trying to say to Chuuya what he had never gotten to say to Verlaine (and then his hand falling in the blood, crying and sobbing and throwing up).

Overall; the anime fucked up (again) and I am grumpy and also autistic

[chizups]

Enough of that boring realism for now! Behold, sinner, an angel!

Spent too much on this one just because I tried to figure out what tool works best for me as a liner. More than less I am pleased with this piece.

I also was fighting with myself over that hell of a neckline that became a boob window in the end, even though I tried to avoid it through several redesigns there's always next one. Not sure who lost in this situation lol.

In the mood to write some info about this fantasy. I understand that a ship like that is not everyone's cup of tea, BUT it's not for everyone, it's for ME :D

Behold once again: the info dump✨

***

How character came to be in the first place?

I was gifted Far Cry 6 with Collapse DLC and after playing through it, I had some things to say to Joseph. So I needed an avatar to channel my thoughts. Self insert is always an option, but at the moment I was tired of drawing myself and was not in the mood to make another sona. Besides an unusual looking interpretation of Joseph's mind called for some ethereal entity, not a sad bitch like me lol

I also at the moment was obsessed with playing Warframe (still is), design of my character is based on a frame with the same name - Wisp. Her whole theme is being ethereal and wispy, ghostly character, moving between the fabrics of reality, which works nice with The Bliss, I think. And she has no feet. I'm not sure why it became such a thing for me in this case, I just like this artistic choice, that's all.

Is this character a self insert?

Well, in the end not at all😂 Whatever I wanted to tell through her was taken by the wind it seems. When I started thinking about Blissed Wisp, her biography and their interactions with Joseph, I came to realization that she would be just as easily manipulated by him as so many other characters in the plot, therefore will not say a single word from what was intended to be said in the first place.

If character has to fight, what's their weapon of choice?

Blissed Wisp is a skilled fighter (was created to be) and can use any fire weapon available. However her angelic image in the Project of Eden's Gate limits her choices of weapon to hand to hand combat, which would really be a problem only for her opponents since she is much stronger that an average human being and can injure a person without putting effort into it. She has an option to display her divine power (which are based on warframe abilities as well) but burning people alive is not exactly her cup of tea, so she is restraining herself from using it as well. Blissed Wisp leans more into scaring her opponents - her unusual appearance is just enough to do that - or confuse them by pretending to be a ghostly apparition in the woods.

What song describes character and their partner/love interest?

Who is she? - I Monster

Wisp was a mute witness to Joseph's reflections for years, carefully looking through his thoughts and memories without him noticing. He wasn't the only one she was able to reach, but somehow became most fascinating one to her. For many years after she first spoke to him, Joseph wasn't able to even imagine her face, most probably because she was not allowing him to do that: unsure of how long their connection would last, she figured her appearance was unnecessary information for Joseph to know.

However after some time their established relationship and Seed's religiously charged attitude lead to him become strengthened in faith that he in his mind was talking to an angel or a deity, wishing to get closer to her someday and meet in person if possible, since he was aware that Wisp wasn't just a incorporeal entity (despite her name).

With that desire there were many times Joseph "called" her name in his prayers to engage in conversations.

Where does character live?

Many years was spent in the science facility. I already said before that Far Cry 5 and New Dawn with it's Bliss are two steps away from Outlast and SCP, so I figured making a lab rat of a character that got turned basically into cyborg wasn't really that long of a stretch, but you don't need to agree.

If Wisp arrives in Hope County in time closer to Far Cry 5 dates, her place of residence would be a run down church somewhere in Henbane River region. When she's not there, she is rolling across the bliss fields just genuinely enjoying her freedom under the sun.

She doesn't really hide and is no stranger to cultists in other regions, but in general avoids being seen by people that are not following Joseph's word.

If Wisp arrives in what's left of Hope County by the time of New Dawn, she sticks to New Eden's region, mostly by Joseph's side, helping him with whatever and protecting his people.

How does character handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

Frankly has no idea what mental health is, when it comes to her, trauma is not a word Wisp would use to describe her struggles, yet she is not just traumatized, but was trained for decades to believe that all the suffering she endured - mental and physical - is for the greater purpose that she might not even understand, but pain is inescapable.

However in case of other people, Blissed Wisp mostly understands the needlessness of their suffering, therefore when being a witness to people mental or physical struggles, she feels compassion and expresses it without doubts.

How do Seeds feel about the character?

As was said, obviously Joseph is a big fan. They have a long lasting connection that in some scenarios grows into kind of a romance between a mere man and a deity. Besides the fact that Joseph cherishes his relationship with Blissed Wisp, his Pride cannot help but make somewhat subtle advances towards her now and again in an attempt to strengthen his feeling of uniqueness and chosenness: a unique partner for The Chosen Son of God and Savior of Humanity sounds just right in his mind.

Jacob keeps his distance and is a bit afraid of the entity that Blissed Wisp appears to be in his eyes. Despite the fact that of all people her and Jacob could've find quite a few themes to talk about, he has a hard time to accept her existence, since none of his beliefs really implied the possibility of meeting something like Wisp at all. Of all heralds he is the one who is closed away from Wisp's influence and does not appreciate her in the mountains.

Faith is almost as big of a fan as Joseph, though she is not aware of Blissed Wisp's real nature and believes in her angelic origin, which is not surprising since girl is probably high most of the time. But then again, Wisp was able to insert herself into The Bliss, and that made girls grow closer to each other at least on that topic.

John Seed takes very little of this angelic bullshit, but keeps his mouth shut to appease Joseph first and foremost. He does not believe in Blissed Wisp being an angel, and in his eyes, if paranormal exists, she is a demon at best. However he is not nearly as closed as his older brother and is able to open his mind to Wisp in some cases.

Why this name?

Wisp is not the name of this woman, but the name of the entity she was designed to be. The purposes she was created for did not imply her having a name at all.

Blissed she became under Joseph's influence at Eden's Gate.

What people say about the character?

Though Blissed Wisp is not exactly hiding from people, the influence of Eden's Gate has spread so much, barely any person outside the project would be able to catch a glance of this unusual looking gal. But some did, and that made her into some sort of a local cryptid. Obviously not too many people believe that there is an actual angel roaming Hope County, but people talk there is some... thing.

Sharky was able not only see Blissed Wisp, but have a small chat with her as well and after that just calls her "Joseph's chick" absolutely ignoring her name.

[candycandy00]

Finding Love in a Zombie Apocalypse - A JJK Interactive Romance Fanfic Round 7 (Final)

Read the details about this event here!

Round 1 | Round 2 | Round 3 | Round 4 | Round 5 | Round 6

During a zombie apocalypse, you meet a group of seven handsome men. Which one will you choose to be your survival/romantic partner?

And the winner is Gojo! Please enjoy this smutty chapter!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Minors do not interact!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

You’re not sure what you expected to see when the door of the bunker fully opened. Perhaps a squad of well built soldiers filing out in formation, guns drawn. 

Instead, a measly three men walk out, casual clothes hanging limply from their thin bodies, guns in their hands but hanging at their sides. The weapons almost look too heavy for them to carry. They remind you of scarecrows, with their shaggy, unkempt hair and dark, hollow eyes. 

All three men look at you, not as a fellow human being but as an object of entertainment, the way they might look at a shiny new gaming console. They don’t speak to you, instead addressing Gojo. 

“Bring the other bags,” one of them says. His voice is familiar, the same voice that spoke through the speaker. He’s the tallest of the three, with oily hair pulled into a low ponytail at his neck. If he bathed, shaved, and dressed well, he might be handsome. But currently he looks tired, starved, and dirty. 

Gojo and Geto remain where they are. Gojo is still loosely holding your arm behind you. He gives a light laugh and says, “That wouldn’t be very fair. If we drag out all the food, what’s to stop you guys from taking it all? You’re the only ones armed.”

The men glance at each other, then the familiar voiced man gives a signal. Two more men walk out, carrying guns. 

“You’re right,” he says, “we are the only ones armed. So bring the rest of the bags out and we’ll check them over. If you’re telling the truth, you’ll get your guns.”

Gojo looks over at Geto, who shrugs. “I’ll bring a few more out, then we can discuss this further. How does that sound?”

The soldiers remain quiet, waiting for the man that’s been talking to make the decision. He must be the leader. He stares at Geto, then his eyes drift over to you. “Fine. Bring some more out. Sit them on the ground and unzip them, then step away.”

Geto nods, then heads back to the trailer. 

Gojo is smiling. “So how long have you guys been here?” he asks, as if he’s just making friendly conversation. You’re looking back and forth between the men, pretending to be stunned and terrified, occasionally giving a fake jerk against Gojo’s weak grip on your arm. 

One of the other soldiers, short with a baby face that makes him look too young to be in the military, answers, “Since this all started.”

The leader gives him a sharp look, but says nothing. 

“Wow, that long?” Gojo asks. “Have any of you guys even killed a zombie?”

This time no one answers, which is an answer in itself. 

The awkward silence is broken when Geto reappears, carrying three more duffel bags. He sits them on the ground in front of the soldiers and then unzips them and takes a few steps back. 

The leader motions toward the bags and two of the other soldiers scurry forward to look through them. Their eyes seem to light up at the sight of all that food, their hands raking through the contents. One man pulls out a candy bar, rips off the wrapper, and shoves the entire thing into his mouth. He sighs as he chews. 

Right now, Sukuna should have climbed out of the trailer that Geto left open, going around the outskirts of the bunker so that he can emerge behind the men. Nanami and Higuruma should both be out of the trailer, coming up toward the front while the soldiers are distracted. 

The leader steps closer to you, then leans down to get a good look, his eyes moving to your chest and then back to your face. “You can hand her over now,” he says. 

“No!” you cry out, wiggling around. 

Gojo’s grip on your arm tightens slightly. “So far you guys haven’t given us anything. Why would I hand over our most valuable item?”

The leader frowns. “Because we have the guns. We won’t take her inside until the trade is done, but I want her in our hands.”

He reaches out toward you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. You shudder and try to back away, but Gojo is behind you, unmoving. Just before the man’s fingertips can brush the fabric of your shirt, Gojo suddenly grabs his wrist. 

The man looks up at him, seeming confused. But before he can react any further, Gojo releases you, stepping around your body and yanking the man by the arm so that he falls face-first to the ground. At the same time, Gojo jerks the gun free of the bewildered man’s hand. 

The other soldiers look up from the bags of food, but before they can even aim their weapons, the others in your group have disarmed them and knocked them out. 

Wow, you can’t believe it was that easy. 

Gojo and Geto gather up guns while Nanami and Higuruma tie up the soldiers. Sukuna has already went inside the bunker, apparently not caring that there are still five more men in there, possibly armed. 

“You can stay out here until we’re done if you want,” Gojo tells you, checking one of the guns for ammo. 

You hear gunfire coming from inside. “Okay, yeah, I think I’ll do that,” you say. Your heart is still beating fast. 

Gojo grins and pats you playfully on the back. “You’re a pretty good actress,” he says. Then he lowers his voice. “But all that squirming around you did got me riled up.”

Your eyes widen and your face flushes with heat, but you can’t think of a witty retort. Instead you’re left to stare after him as he winks and heads into the bunker. 

While waiting outside, you realize you’re going to have to decide soon if you want to take him up on his offer. You’re certainly attracted to Gojo, and you have no real hang ups to speak of. Your only concern is that you’ll fall for him, and even if he did end up returning your feelings, the two of you are living in a zombie apocalypse. Either one of you could die at any moment. Why put yourself through the heartache? 

But he’s so fucking charming, and he is really strong. Especially with the relative safety of the bunker, it seems unlikely that either of you will die anytime soon. So why not go for it? If you are living out your last days, why not enjoy them? 

Within an hour, the soldiers have been rounded up, disarmed, and restrained. There were only nine of them now, one having died after the defector left. You wonder what your group plans to do with them. Will they murder them? Simply leave them alone out here to fend for themselves? You’re not sure if you’re comfortable with either of those options, even though the leader clearly had ominous plans for you. 

Geto and Nanami usher all of the men but one into the back of the now empty trailer, their arms still tied behind their backs. The last remaining soldier is the baby faced guy who spoke earlier. Gojo cuts him free and hands him the knife. 

“Take one bag of supplies, that one by your feet, and drive this truck away from here,” Gojo tells him. “I suggest driving until daylight, then you can stop and untie them. If we ever catch you guys near here, we’ll kill you all. Understand?”

The young soldier nods, his face sweaty and red, his eyes frantic. “C-can I have just one gun?” 

Gojo shakes his head and pat’s the guy’s back. “You don’t want a gun, trust me. All they do is draw a crowd of zombies. Too loud. Knives are quiet. Zombies can be scary, but they’re slow and weak. Don’t fight unless you’re cornered. Wear thick fabric on your extremities to protect from bites. Don’t be out in the open at night. Watch out for yourself.”

The soldier nods to all of that, then Geto hands him the keys to the truck. He climbs in and starts the engine, then he’s gone. 

Gojo throws his arm around you. “Now that all the unpleasant stuff is out of the way, let’s go tour our new home!”

You smile, relieved that no one died tonight, on either side. You let Gojo lead you into the bunker and show you around. 

There’s a living area, far more spacious than you imagined, with two couches and three recliners. There’s a pool table off to one side, a tv with a large screen, and a shelf stacked messily with books and magazines. The lighting in here, and everywhere else in the bunker, is quite dim. They’re probably using the last of their fuel for the generator. 

The kitchen is very small, with barely enough room for the round table and four chairs between rows of cabinets, a sink, small stove, and microwave. There’s a short, squat refrigerator in the corner. 

There are three separate sleeping areas, all quite large and holding six narrow beds in each. There’s also two bathrooms, though only one contains a shower. 

You don’t ask, or even hint, but the men all agree to let you use the shower first. You like that they’re considerate, but you feel a little guilty as you strip off your well-worn clothes and step into the shower. 

It’s the first shower you’ve had in weeks, and it feels incredible. The water is actually warm! Your tense muscles begin to relax under the firm pressure, your sinuses clearing from the steam. They even have soap and shampoo! Nothing fancy like you used at home, but it smells nice and clean. 

Just as you’re finishing rinsing off your body, you hear the door to the bathroom open. You freeze up. The door had no lock, but you assumed none of these guys would walk in on you. Through the frosted glass of the shower door, you can see a tall blurry figure. 

“Hey.”  Gojo’s voice. “If I’m being too forward, tell me to fuck off and I will. But do you mind if I join you?”

Join you? In this cramped shower stall?! You’ve already decided to sleep with him, but things are moving a little more quickly than you expected. Still, he’s right there. So close. The idea of seeing him dripping wet, hair in his eyes, towering over you in this small, steamy space… it’s doing things to you. 

“Okay, sure,” you tell him, and you watch through the glass as he peels off his clothes. You can’t make out any details, just his vague shape as more and more of his creamy skin is exposed. Then, he opens the shower door. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, each taking the opportunity to drink the other in. He’s built like a god, all taut, lean muscle. He looked thinner when dressed, but this is the best kind of surprise. 

He smiles, clearly aware of how good looking he is, his crystalline eyes shamelessly moving over your body. In return, your own eyes fall to below his waist. 

Oh. Oh wow. So he’s hung like a fucking horse. 

“So? Do you think I’ll fit?”

You look up suddenly. “What?”

He’s grinning. “The shower. It’s pretty small. Do you think I’ll fit in there with you?”

“Oh, uh, I think so,” you stammer, stepping to the side to give him room. 

He slides in beside you, his bare body brushing against yours. This is probably the first shower he’s had in a while too, but you’d never know it. He looks and smells inexplicably clean already, but he lathers up his hair and body regardless. 

This was his idea, so it’s okay to watch, right? You stand back as far as you can while he cleans himself, giving you an eyeful and not seeming the least bit shy. Of course, he’s getting an eyeful too, and it’s difficult to ignore the way his cock is hardening the longer he looks at you. 

By the time he rinses off, he’s fully hard, and you’re drenched in a way that has nothing to do with the water pouring down over your body. He faces you, and in a split second his arms are around you, his mouth on yours. 

He kisses the way he fights, fiercely, like he’s eager to lose himself in it, like he’s been holding back for a while and something has snapped inside him. 

You’ve never been kissed so passionately before, your back pressed against the glass door, his tall frame hovering over you. Heat is seeping into your skin, from the water or his body, you’re not sure. 

He suddenly turns you around to face away from him, then pushes your upper half against the glass door, slightly bending you at the waist. His hand slides down your back, along your spine, rubbing over your ass before his fingers slip between your legs from behind. 

You automatically spread your feet wider apart, wanting to give him more access. His fingers dip into your slick folds, finding your clit with the sort of ease only a man who has pleasured many women could do. You gasp as he rubs circles on the sensitive little nub, your hands pressed into the glass to keep you stable. When he rubs just a little harder, you moan out loud and your legs begin to tremble. 

“There we go,” he says, his voice a little lower than usual. “It’s probably been a while, huh? Just relax and enjoy it.”

You sigh, letting more of your upper half lean against the glass. It has been a while. Even if you had the privacy and time to masturbate, you hadn’t been in the right mindset for it since all this started. But now, with at least a semblance of safety and a gorgeous naked man playing with your clit, all the pent up stress is melting away, leaving only raw hormones. 

So you let yourself melt into the pleasure. Your legs quiver, your breaths quicken, as you focus on the heat, on the feeling of his fingers sliding inside you. The orgasm washes over you in waves, rippling over your body, spreading out from your core to the tips of your toes and fingers. 

You almost collapse. If not for Gojo’s arm around your waist, you would have. He holds you snugly between himself and the shower door, his fingers still stroking you, until your body stops shaking. 

A second later, you feel his hands move to grip your waist, and then all at once he’s plunging into you, making you cry out in surprise. Your hands fly to the glass again, needing something to grip as he begins thrusting impossibly deep. 

“Sorry,” he says into your ear. “It’s been a while for me too.”

“We’re gonna break this door,” you tell him, feeling it give a little, as if it’s going to bust off its frame. 

“I don’t care,” he grunts out, picking up his pace. 

“The others are gonna hear us,” you say, your voice shaking as he pounds into you. 

“I extra don’t care,” he says, one hand slipping around to squeeze your breast. 

Your breath hitches when he hits that sweet, tender spot inside you that drives you mad, making you clench him tightly. 

He must have noticed your reaction, because he hammers that spot like it’s a loose nail. Seconds later, you’re cumming for the second time, clamping down on his cock, wanting to milk it dry. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he mutters, his grip on you tightening. “And as much as I’d love to fill this pussy full… we can’t risk it.”

With that, he pulls out, and you feel something warm and thick land on your lower back, dripping down onto your ass. 

You wanted to feel him cum inside you, but you agree that it would be a terrible idea. An unplanned pregnancy in this world would be disastrous. You make a mental note to look for condoms later. 

Wait, later? You’re not even sure if there’ll be a later with Gojo. Maybe this is just a one-time thing. It’s not like the two of you are in a relationship. You have to keep reminding yourself of that. He’s practically a stranger to you. 

After the two of you finish showering and get dressed, you both walk out of the bathroom, which is directly beside the living area. The rest of the guys are sitting around on the couches and recliners, all of them staring at the two of you with unamused faces. 

Nanami stands up. “You two do realize the rest of us have to shower in there after you,” he says, looking like a stern teacher who just caught you smoking in the bathroom. 

You look at the floor, your face heating up. 

Gojo laughs. “Don’t worry, we cleaned up after ourselves!”

Geto sighs. “Did you have to be so loud? We could hear you all over the bunker.”

Gojo throws an arm around you. “Well you guys better get used to it.”

The others blanch and you look up at him in surprise. Does that mean he’s counting on this being a regular thing? 

He grins down at you. “Wanna bunk with me?”

You blink, then smile. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you tell him, walking with him to one of the sleeping areas. Maybe the zombie apocalypse wasn’t so bad, if it led you to meeting Gojo. Maybe you could even have a life, and have love, in this crazy new world. 

Tag List:

@tadabzzzbee @babysoo-meu @atomicweaselpaperapricot

[imauthicktic]

Hey how about something angsty for Wraith, Doctor, and Pyramid Head where they have a argument with their s/o so their s/s starts to ignore them but it ends in fluff like the made up again or something

Thank youu love your work🥰

I went a little ham on this one... especially for Wraith and Doctor... anyways, I hope you like it!! Thank you for enjoying my work!!

Since its super long it'll be under the cut

angst with fluffy endings! I changed the prompt very very slightly

Description: Silent treatments after misunderstandings

Wraith:

You and Philip never fight. At least not since you were both brought here by the entity. You had just started your relationship with him when he was working at the scrap yard. It was still pretty fresh as you guys were together for only 6 months. Obviously you were hearing about the rumors running around the yard and it made you nervous. Philip was always reassuring and tried to ease your tension with his job. However, one day, there was a huge incident at his job where his boss was found dead and Philip was missing. To say you were devastated was an understatement. You kept calling his phone, but he never answered and you were going crazy with worry. A couple weeks after him disappearing and being told the crimes he supposedly took a part of when the police told you they have no leads to where he is, you were depressed to say the least.

You were consumed by it and then all of a sudden there was a fog that swallowed you whole. When the fog cleared you were confused as to where you were. It looked like a run down version of the scrap yard that Philip worked at. Not really run down, more so unsettling version. You turned to look at the familiar building when you heard a bell ring and someone, or something, appeared in front of it before walking into it. It was huge! Who is that? Where are you? You started to back away from the building afraid that the thing would come out and get you. You saw the skull it was carrying and you were afraid of the possible outcomes. As you continued backing up, you tripped over some random scrap metal and landed on some tire caps. “Shit,” you whisper, knowing that was too loud for them not to hear. 

You hear the bell again and look at the man towering over you. You watched as he immediately lifted the skull thing as it was swung down near you. You managed to dodge it and got up to run away. He gave chase and was after you instantly. You weren’t too far ahead of him and with his long arm he grabbed you easily. You couldn’t help but cry out and turned to him with tears in your eyes, “Please. Please don’t hurt me,” you sobbed. Philip took a second to look at you and when you finally faced him he knew who you were. He was frozen. Never again did he think he’d see you. He gently loosened his grip on your arm as he dropped his weapon and grabbed your other arm softly. 

You looked up at him as he wiped the tears off your face. You were searching his eyes for any sort of answer. He looked down at the necklace that was delicately resting on your clavicle. The golden ‘P’ standing out against your skin. He remembered giving that to you on Valentine's Day. He gently grabbed the necklace between his fingers. You look down at his hand then back up at his face. “P-Philip?” He looked back into your eyes and nodded softly. The ones he missed so much and you still looked at him in fear. He almost killed you with that skull. Who’s skull is it? You didn’t want to know, but you didn’t want to leave just yet. You had questions but most of all you missed him so much. You held your breath as you slowly went in for a hug. Being in his arms took the weight off of the past few months off your shoulders. You were in desperate need of the safety he provided you. 

You stepped back and as you were about to ask where you were, you disappeared into a fog again. Now you were somewhere new but your blood was pumping harder than normal. Suddenly there was a man who ran into you making you both fall with a grunt. You both quickly got up and the man pulled you to a generator. “Listen, I know you’re new cause I’ve never seen you, but these are death trials. You have to do everything to survive and that’s by fixing these generators and avoiding the killer.” “Killer? What do you mean killer?!!” you were about to lose your mind. Everything has been happening so fast. “This trial is the creature with the bell. If you hear it you run. Once the generators are done, run for the exit.” You both finished the generator terrified of the concept of this place. You hear a scream in the distance and you look at the man in the police uniform that helped you. “Come with me and hold this med pack. We have to save the hooked people or else our chances of survival are slim.” You quickly followed him and you found another survivor on a hook and watched as the guy grabs them and shows you how to heal them. 

As you were wrapping up on that, you heard the bell. Wait? Bell? Philip? You watched as he appeared and hit the cop with the skull and lifted him up onto his shoulder. You look at Philip with fear as he slammed the cop on the hook and the other survivor ran off. You were scared and you ran off after Philip turned and made eye contact with you. He saw the fear in your eyes and this isn’t how he wanted you to find out and he certainly didn’t want you to think he’s doing this for his own entertainment. He tried to reach out for you but you turned and ran as fast as you could.

Philip went after you anyways. Popping up after every corner, after every turn, after every palette drop. He finally got you cornered, but you were shaking because all you could think was that maybe he did know the shady business at home. Maybe he was a killer back then. He certainly is now. Your chest is heaving and you can feel yourself getting light headed. The world starts spinning and there are spots in your vision.

You don’t know how you got out of there, but all you know is that you’re utterly devastated. It’s been almost a week since you’ve seen Philip. You know he’s been watching you from the forest. You’ve heard the bell anytime you’ve walked the perimeter of the camp. Any time you’re talking to someone you see his glowing eyes over their shoulder watching you from the forest. You’ve been trying to find some courage to approach Philip because you have so many questions. 

Leon was the one person who took his time to explain what the whole “game” is here. He’s the only one who has shown you some true kindness. He’s the only one who knew about your history with Philip and he’s been trying to talk you through your feelings about everything. He even admitted, from what you’ve told him about before being brought here, that he doesn’t think Philip knew what was going on at the scrap yard. You took that to heart and you’ve been trying to remember that every trial with Philip, he didn’t hurt you. Not once. He knew he had to give you space, but his heart yearned for you when he was brought here. He just wants to love you again even if it’s different than how it was before.

You were walking the perimeter of the camp again, lost in your thoughts. You heard that familiar bell again and looked for the familiar glowing eyes. You made eye contact with him and you couldn’t help but gravitate towards them as you feet started moving towards the forest and stopped in front of the towering figure. He got down on his knees as he knew it would be easier for him when he tried to ask for forgiveness. He was trying to figure out what he was going to do when you finally gave him the time of day. He couldn’t really talk in anything but small grunts. He happened to find some paper and used some oil from a car in his realm to try and write an explanation to you. 

Philip went to grab the paper from his pocket and handed it to you, but before you read it, you had to get something off your chest. “I’m sorry, Philip. I didn’t know everything about this place. I was scared because of everything that happened when you disappeared and I know the circumstances are different, but I missed you so much,” you softly said. He grunted and nodded to the note. While he was happy he knew you still had room for him in your heart, he wanted you to know the truth. He always was a truthful man before this place and he wasn’t going to change that now with you here. He wrote about the incident, being brought here by the entity, what’s expected from him here, and how much he missed you. He ended the note with his love for you. He was planning for that when you guys were both human, but he needed you to know. 

You started reading the note and Philip was still on his knees but finally let himself sink down and fully kneel down onto the ground after hearing a small “Oh, Philip,” come from you as you were finishing the note he put his hands on your hips and gently put his head on your stomach. 

Finally finishing the note, and now knowing the full truth from him, you felt terrible with how you’ve been avoiding him. You rested your hand on his head and almost cried at how he was trying so hard to get to you these past few days. You can’t imagine his fear and loneliness of losing you again. You gently lifted his head up and rested your hands on the sides of his face. “Philip, I’m so sorry,” you rested your forehead against his and let out a shaky breath, “I’m here with you now. I love you so much. I’m not going to leave you alone.” Philip was so happy to hear that you loved him back and wrapped his arms around your waist. He was so excited that he stood up with you still in his arms and started spinning. You shrieked at the sudden lift you were given, but you couldn’t help but giggle at the little happy grunts he let out as you spun. “Let’s go back to your place. I could use some alone time with you baby.” He didn’t hesitate and you guys were gone with the ring of the bell.

Doctor:

Herman is hard to deal with sometimes. His constant shocks he gives to see your reaction or when you’re talking about something stupid, annoying, or boring really bothers you. He’s been very controlling over the things around you lately, as if he was trying to change the variables around you like you were some rat in an experiment. It’s been way too much for you to handle and you’re getting very frustrated. You’re about to blow up on him, but you’re trying not to give into the anger because you feel like it’s something that he is expecting for whatever test he’s trying to run on you. 

When you first got with Herman you knew experiments were a part of the deal. However, after being together for so long, you expected him to lose some of his curiosity and he did! At least for a while. You had managed to talk him out of the painful tests and experiments and he even promised he wouldn’t do it. As of late, it seems like he’s forgotten that promise. Obviously, this is not going to slide with you. You were almost more hurt about him breaking the promise as you’ve gotten hurt quite a few times around him for it to just be your clumsiness. He’s been there to help you with your injuries every single time. It’s just this is more than your normal clumsiness and that’s what has made you question things. You notice after every injury, he’s watching you closely and making notes before he helps you and then making notes afterwards. Your observation skills have improved when it comes to him and you wonder if he even noticed that.

You were just pulled into a trial and you went to work on a generator immediately. You heard electricity in the background and rolled your eyes knowing who the killer was in this trial. You tried avoiding Herman the whole time. Even going as far to slam palettes on him. Which is something you usually don’t do when it comes to being in the same trials. This new development left Herman shocked. “Shit,” he sighed a little. You must've caught onto his antics lately. He’s been doing small things to test your peripheral vision because he knows that you’re clumsy and he’s been trying to test those limits to see how he could help you. Unfortunately, you’re not aware of his intentions. 

After he got the other survivors in the trial, he tried finding you again to try and explain himself. He really does care for your wellbeing and that’s the point of those little traps. He’s been trying to figure out a way to help you with your vision, or at least your spatial awareness. All the generators were fixed and he knew you must be on your way to the exit or already out of this realm. He had to at least do one run of the map before giving up on finding you for now. 

As he was on his way towards the exit, he heard your voice in the distance. “UGH!! I’m sick of this place!” you yell out exasperated. He slowed down his run to look around for you. He knew you must’ve tripped or got caught in something. He was rounding the wall near the exit and peeked over to see you trying to unwrap your ankle from some wires that were near the generator you were sitting next to. 

Herman slowly walked over to you as you gave up on trying to detangle yourself. You looked up at Herman with clear annoyance and some anger in your eyes. You didn’t say anything when he knelt down in front of you. He didn’t break eye contact with you until you rolled your eyes and looked away from him with a small pout on your face and crossed your arms. He tried not to let a chuckle out at how cute you looked in that moment. He knew if he did, he would’ve pushed you to your limit. 

He quickly went to work on the wires and freed you. He noticed your ankle was raw from the wires being wrapped so tight around it and sighed. He saw a med pack that was dropped around the corner of the wall before he found you and went to grab it. “Stay. Please,” he said gently as he squeezed your calf just above the markings. You looked him in his eyes and saw a gentleness you haven’t seen before and nodded as you uncrossed your arms and hugged your knees to your chest. 

Seconds later Herman was in front of you again with a med pack. “May I?” he asked, reaching out for your leg. You sighed and let him grab your leg to put some disinfectant ointment and wrapped it up. When he finished he gently brushed his thumb over the bandage and looked back into your eyes as you brought the leg back up to your chest. You wrapped your arms tightly around your legs and rested your chin against your knees. You looked down at the ground and Herman was thinking of how to word what he had been doing to you. What he’s been trying to help you with.

He took a deep breath before speaking, “Darling, I want to apologize,” he started. You looked up at him when he rested his hands on your arms softly. “I-.... I have been running some… tests on you, but-” “But what? You promised you wouldn’t do ones that cause me pain. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been getting hurt a lot more than usual.” “Yes, but, it’s because you get hurt so often,” he added. There was obvious confusion in your eyes and he knew he had to explain before you shrugged his hands off of you. He squeezed your arms and put one hand on the hurt ankle and again gently ran his hand over the bandage. “Even before you and I started this relationship, I noticed that you were normally clumsy. I was thinking maybe that was just one of your quirks, but I know you’re tired about constantly getting injured,” Herman continued. You let out a little huff of a laugh. “It can get exhausting,” you said, “I know you’re always helping me with the aches and pains. I feel bad you’re always having to fix me up,” you softly added and put your hand on top of the one that’s still rubbing your injured ankle. “I’ll never get tired of caring for you, darling. That was the point of the little tests. I was trying to see if there was a problem with your spatial awareness due to maybe not having the best peripheral vision. I don’t know how to fix it without surgery and I wouldn’t want to do anything serious like that when we’re in a place like this,” Herman finally gave his reasoning.

“Herman. I-I didn’t know that was what you were doing. I knew there were tests, but I feel a lot better knowing it was because you were trying to help me,” you admitted. “I wouldn’t do anything like this if it weren’t because I was trying to help you my dear,” he said, reaching up to cup your cheek, “I love and care for you too much to not do everything I possibly can to better your life here.” You let out a small gasp and smiled as you put your hand over his that was on your cheek and placed a kiss on the inside of his palm. Herman took this as his moment to pick you up bridal style and walk you over to the exit. He felt much better that you understood where he was coming from. Of course you would. You are probably one of the smarter beings here. As he sets you on your feet in front of the exit, you turn to face him and smile softly. “Ya know. I love you too, Herman,” it was the first time you both told each other that. “When you make it back to camp, head on over to my place and I’ll take care of your delicate ankles.” You both chuckled at that. Before you turned to leave you pulled him closer to you and touched your forehead against his and touched your nose to his. You both inhaled deeply and Herman was the first to pull away as he brushed the back of his hand against your cheek and you hobbled through the exit and through the fog to see your lover in a more private place.

Pyramid Head:

Honestly… No fights. What are you even going to fight about? You’ve been marked as his and there’s no way he’d ever think of anyone in a romantic way the way he does you. There’s nothing for him to say that would make you mad cause the man can’t talk anyways. If you were to give him a cold shoulder, it would be just to test his limits. Communication isn’t always back and forth other than him nodding or groaning. Sure he sometimes does delicate touches as a form of communication from him, but that’s about it.

Sometimes you try to spice things up by trying little things here and there by trying to get reactions out of him. Nothing really bothers him that you do except for one thing. This cold shoulder you’re giving him all of a sudden is new and he does NOT like it. He doesn’t recall doing anything to upset you and keeps trying to get anything from you. He tried to get affection, you didn’t reciprocate. He tried groaning to get your attention, you didn’t look at him. He tried writing on your arm with his finger with the small acronyms and symbols you taught him, and you ignored his clear confusion. He tried not to let it bother him as he knows sometimes you like playing little games with him to get a reaction. But this time he was sure you just didn’t want him anymore.

Pyramid Head started giving you some space thinking maybe you needed it. Soon enough neither of you weren’t communicating with each other. Now it was him giving you the cold shoulder and you were not a fan of that. 

Realizing your mistake, you tried looking for him in the school. Unfortunately, it was completely void of your monster man. You think he must’ve been pulled into a trial and decided to wait it out. However, he didn’t show up after a couple hours. A couple hours turned into a couple days and you were on the verge of hysterics. You know for certain, he is avoiding you entirely. You were high strung and needed someone to talk to or else you'd lose your mind. 

You heaved a sigh and headed towards the survivor’s camp. Maybe talking to someone would make you feel better. You weren’t going to mention your relationship problems because you were a bit embarrassed at the fact that it was a problem you created.

As you were about to walk out of Pyra’s realm, you heard the dragging of his giant knife. You turned as fast as you could and ran after him. It started pouring rain on the way to him and you called out to him, hoping he’d hear you through the rain. You noticed hesitance in his step and you thought he would ignore you again. Once you got to the entrance of the building, you saw that he was waiting right inside the doors. His knife resting against the wall and him facing away from you. 

You were shivering from being wet and cold and walked up to him hugging him from behind. Pyramid Head slowly turned his head after feeling your soaking arms around his stomach. “‘M sorry Pyra. I shouldn’t have ignored you. Please. Can we cuddle? I’m so cold.” Pyra let out a short groan as he turned around in your arms and pulled you close to him. He tapped on your right arm and drew a heart on your arm with a question mark and a small point to his chest. Understanding the question, you widen your eyes and snuggle closer to his body heat with a quick, “No, I never stopped loving you big guy. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise,” you smush your face into his chest, and leave a few kisses as you hold him tighter. “Love you so much,” you mumble and you relax when his arms fully wrap around you and give you a good squeeze.

Hope ya'll like it!!!

Requests are open!!

[sugawhaaa]

SEONGHWA X READER

{{Chapter 7}}

🪞The truth lies in the sunlight🪞

Warnings:: weapons! Abusive ex!

Genre:: Pirate Au! Guilt tripping, this chapter is pretty angsty 😬

Reminder‼️this isn't 100% historically accurate and should be taken with a grain of salt. This story is also set in the late 1800s to early 1900s specifically in Europe but if you want you can imagine it wherever else you'd like, it is a fictional story after all 💗 this story also takes some inspiration from pirates of the Caribbean, specifically the first movie.

Taglist:: @hi-kariii @deltamoon666 @hxpelessxcean @luvleejuyo @ateez-atiny380

A/N:: FINAL CHAPTER WERE ALL DONE GUYS ‼️‼️‼️‼️

Previous chapter::

"One more,'' Seonghwa puts his finger up to Hongjoongs face before dipping you down with his arm, kissing you one last time. Hongjoong sighs. Seonghwa swings you back up to your feet. “I'll see you tomorrow my dove,” he runs his fingers through your hair one last time. “I love you,” he kisses your forehead before running off with Hongjoong.

The rest of the night felt slower than imaginable. Every passing second felt like an eternity as you craved to see Seonghwa. Hear his voice, watch his eyes glow with adventure, feel his warmth, touch his skin, feel his lips on yours. As much as you wanted to see Seonghwa again, you also wanted to get all the answers. The photos, the map, the necklaces, everything was so close to your reach but so far.

The next morning was no different from the night. Every moment felt like an illusion, a dream. Your maid helps you put on your dress for the wedding before guiding you to the carriage with your family. The entire drive over felt like a fake reality. You let out a sigh as you look out the window.

“Stop that scoffing,” your mother groans and you look at her with disapproval. The thought that this woman might not be your mother felt like a blessing. A collar unlocked after years of agony. You look down at your hand, the ring no longer locking you down either. You covered your hand and looked out the window again.

“Are you excited dear?” Your father smiled and you clenched your jaw. Was that even a question?

“Hardly,” you reply without making eye contact with him. Your father lets out a grunt before looking at your mother. The two of them discuss more about your wedding and how things will play out. Finally, the wagon came to a halt and the door was opened for you. There was a man in uniform with a wide-brimmed hat that hid his face. On top of the hat were two large feathers. One a deep red and the other a pale blue. As you stepped out of the carriage he held your hand and the sensation was all too familiar. You look up into his eyes to meet Seonghwa's gaze. He winked with a smirk before putting a finger over his lips. He moved on to help your mother and father out of the carriage, bowing as he did so.

There was a floral walkway to guide you and your family up to the ceremonial area. There was an open space where guests stood with fancy dresses and wide smiles, gifts in their arms as blessings for the newly wedded couple. The anxiety started to set in as you walked down the aisle with a massive bouquet of flowers. You stepped up to the platform with the priest and Herrington. He was well put together you have to admit. His outfit looked expensive and detailed, his hair was slicked back and he had all kinds of “manly” jewelry. You stand opposite of Herrington as the priest begins to speak and Herrington follows through with his vows.

You avert your gaze from him and see Seonghwa in the crowd, Hongjoong standing on the opposite side of him by some of the other guests. Your eyes linger on seonghwa, a desperate cry for help when you hear the words “I do,” slip from Herrington's lips. You sigh and take the first ring, putting it onto his ring finger. The priest began to speak again, referring to you with each word of wisdom. You looked back into the crowd again, eyes locked with Seonghwa as he silently cheered you on. It was then time for your vows but you tripped over your words and stared at the ground. You could feel the disapproval from your family. Whispers stung your ears as you swallowed hard, choking on your words.

“I…” you pause and look up at Herrington. You look back to where Seonghwa had been standing but he was nowhere to be seen. “I…” you repeat before swallowing everything down. You let go of Herrington's hands and he grows furious. You feel cold hands on your shoulders, approaching from behind you. You turn to see Seonghwa, and your eyes light up. Herrington is enraged to see Seonghwa again, especially at his wedding and especially with his hands on you. You were Herringtons, you belonged to him. Herrington cursed under his breath before grabbing the pillow that displayed the two rings.

“Give me that!” He growled as he grabbed it from the priests table. When Seonghwas right hand left your shoulder.

“Looking for this?” Seonghwa smirked as he held up the gold ring that acted as a chain to your life. Herringtons eyes widened in fear. Seonghwa tossed the ring through his fingers, spinning it between each of his fingers as he held your body close to his.

“Guards!” Herrington called out to the soldiers who stood around the guests but they didn't move. “Take him away!” Herrington yelled but the guards didn't move. The guests looked at each other, baffled by the situation. Such scandalous behavior from all three of them. The priest stood slack jawed, unable to handle the situation.

“Those aren't your guards,” Seonghwa smirked. “They're mine.” His eyes glinted with murderous intent, almost a hue of red. Herringtons jaw dropped and the guests panicked.

“Stop this mockery!” Your mother shouted in the crowd. Seonghwa turned to face her, his eyes squinting in disapproval.

“Who's that?” Seonghwa leans down into your ear, asking the question softly.

“My mother,” you explain and Seonghwa chuckles.

“Ah, so she's the phony who's been hiding from us,” he smiles before letting go of you for a moment. “Stay here darling,” he kisses you softly and Herrington freezes, his jaw wired open. His face grew red from humiliation. Seonghwa approached your mother. She faulted, stepping back, backing down for the first time in her life. Seonghwa stood still in front of her. “You know who I am don't you?”

Your mother clenched her jaw. “They'll never believe you,” she replies and Seonghwa laughs.

“They can choose to believe me or choose to hide in fear, denying the truth,” Seonghwa smiles and your mother swallows hard. “Just like you,” he whispers in her ear before spinning around abruptly before clapping his hands. He jumps back up to the platform you stood on. “So sorry for the inconvenience but I believe this loving woman belongs to me,” he says as he takes your hand, pulling you into him. He hugs you with one arm and you wrap your arms around him.

“Don't you dare!” Herrington runs up to Seonghwa but hesitates acting, knowing he's at a great disadvantage. “You've taken everything from me!” He growls and you look back at Herrington with a tinge of guilt.

“Don't act like you aren't in on this either,” seonghwa scowls at him. He lets you out of his arms cautiously, keeping you behind him. “You didn't want to marry her. You wanted her title, her money, and most of all her sister. Y/N was like a last resort to you,” Seonghwa explains as he backs him into a corner. The guests gasp and whisper among themselves.

“What is he saying?”

“Is this true?”

“He must've have,”

Herrington looks around and the crowd who is now shaking their heads at him. “Y/N is not a prize to be won, she's not a treasure to be taken, she's a human with morals, family, and a life of her own. She has her own heart,” seonghwa explains. “If you are the responsible and dutiful man you say you are, you will let her go,” Seonghwa turns his back to Herrington before extending his arms. You run up to hug him and the rest of the crew quickly flee the scene. Seonghwa holds you as he takes you to the edge of the grassland the wedding took part on. He leaps off with you in his arms. The crowd gasps and Herrington runs forward, watching as Seonghwa steals his diamond. You squint your eyes shut as you feel gravity take its toll on you but everything stops. You open your eyes to see Seonghwa smiling down at you, gently setting you down. Your dress blowing in the wind as the ship comes to life. Herrington is in disbelief as he sees the ship. You run to the edge of the ship and Seonghwa anxiously follows. You lean over the edge of the rail and wave to the crowd.

“And herrington!” You call out and he looks up at you enraged. “You aren't crazy! I did have sex with Seonghwa!” You laugh and Seonghwa blushes, hiding his face from his crew and the crowd. Your parents gasp at your “crude” behavior and you can't help but laugh. You turn to Seonghwa who is blushing madly as Hongjoong steers the ship away from the crowd. You lift up your veil and kiss Seonghwa passionately. He runs his fingers through your hair as you kiss. You step off your tippy toes and look up at him smiling at his tinted red lips from your makeup.

“I told you everything would work out,” he smiles as he caresses the side of your face.

“You still have a lot of explaining to do,” you put your hands on your hips and he chuckles.

“Here, I thought it was about time I gave this back to you,” he says as he reaches into his pocket, taking out the blue and silver necklace. “This was yours from the beginning,” you graciously take the necklace and Seonghwa helps you put it on your neck. Seonghwa then puts his hand under the neckline of his shirt, fetching out the gold and red necklace laced around his neck. You look up at him with curiosity and longing eyes. “These necklaces follow a crooked tale,” he explains. “This necklace was made by your great grandfather. He made it for your mother,” he explained as his fingers traced over the hourglass at the bottom of the necklace. “He made it for her whenever she'd get married. Your grandfather knew he didn't have much time so he made two. One for your mother and when she found her lover,” Seonghwa explained while he guided you around the ship.

“And how did you get this one?” You ask, referring to the one around his neck.

“Well, your mother, a pirate, fell in love with my father,” he explained and your face burnt red. “But he was already engaged. Your mother knew she couldn't have him so she gave him this to always remember her by because he was her true love and he was hers,”

All the information flooded your brain threatening to boil over.

“My mother was a pirate?” You look confused.

“Well, your biological mother. The one I met at your “wedding” is actually not your mother,” he chuckles and you need a moment to think. The two of you made it to the edge of the boat on the dock, where no one was around. “Your real mother was named abactor of the seas. She was a fierce pirate but when she fell for my father in Korea she lost all her composure around him. After watching my father and mother get married she turned…a little less sane,” he laughed and you smiled along. “That's when you were born, but she offered you up to the kingdom, hoping you'd have a better life in the kingdom as opposed to the pirate life,” he explained and your heart sank. “Your mother gave you the necklace as something to remember her by, her true heart was with you now,” Seonghwa wrapped his arm around yours. You nodded, understanding his story. “My father passed on the battlefield and thus the necklace was passed onto me. Long story short I found out about the necklaces going together and the powers they held,” he explained as he held the hourglass charm. Seonghwa moves around behind you, trying to avoid stepping on your dress. He slides his hands around your waist holding you close to him as you gazed at the sea together.

You him softly at complete peace. “I knew the moment I saw you that we were meant to be,” he smiles as he watches your eyes gleam and sparkle from the ocean.

“That's a lot to take in,” you chuckle and he hums softly.

“I know, but remember you have all the time in the world,” he holds you close before kissing your neck softly. “Now I can have you whenever I want. I can always see your smile, see that purity in your eyes, hear your voice, watch the way your hair blows in the wind so elegantly,” Seonghwa whispers sweet nothings into your ear as the sun begins to set. You extend your hand out to the sun, watching as it falls. Seonghwa grabs the back of your hand, rubbing it softly with his thumb. “I get to love you whenever I want,” he hums and you sigh.

“I'll follow you," you smile and he looks taken aback.

“Follow me?”

“Follow my heart,”

[l0verseyes]

One of my headcanons about v1 is that it's sort of in its personality to be an entertainer. Like, it's the most popular streamer in hell. It has endless instincts to do the sickest thing possible all the time in combat; trick shots and funny made up objectives are in its blood. I think it also makes the secret levels make sense. A lot of them are much slower paced than the sort of bloodthirsty singlemindedness v1 often has, but it makes sense it would fish and do logic puzzles if you consider that it's funny and makes great content. It all fits in to the rest of v1's impulsive, aggressive, fidgety, stylish attitude -- it's just funny. And cool. And the terminals love it.

Just something I think about and am sending because you're a fun person to think about ultrakill with!

(SAM voice) hey terminals for 5000P i'll deadcoin gabriel in 6-2

this is so funny and also makes sense tbh. it reminds me of V2 bowing in 1-4 or sitting on a throne in 4-4, it seems that both V models are show-offs. if you think abt it, the P currency is for new weapons OR weapon colors, so it's just added style, which V1 seems to like very much because it increases the efficiency of its fuel absorption (hard damage mechanic). besides that i like to think that V1 does things just bc it can and nothing so far can rlly match it

also im crying thinking about 7-S being a maid stream. with the terminals roleplaying and everything too (#$%(*#*%

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: The battle begins, and the past is revealed.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence, blood and gore. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 6 - As When The Summer Days Were Nigh

“I’d known death since I was a child. It’s everywhere. In every form you can imagine. And a few your worst nightmare couldn’t muster. As if death was not the result of accidents and disease, death was its own disease. But it had never touched me. It had never placed its rotten finger on my heart. Yes, freedom has fangs. And it sunk them in me. ” ~ Elsa Dutton 1883 

Lorena's hooves pounded against the slope, carrying Kate down into the valley where a few wagons had come to a halt, isolated from the main caravan. Raiders swarmed around them, gunfire echoing in the night as chaos unfolded. With the sun sinking below the horizon, Kate strained to discern the attackers' numbers in the darkness. 

Six horsemen emerged from the west, joined by several more riding over the slope from the north. Kate's mind raced as she tried to make sense of the situation. What are raiders doing this far south in the plains? She asked herself, trying to plan a course of action.

They used the cover of night to their advantage, weaving between trees and shrubs, it was difficult to get a clear shot of them. But she witnessed Charles and Arthur spring into action. Their guns blazed as they lit up the night with each round sending orange sparks into the darkness. As Lorena closed the distance, Kate spotted two wagons left behind: one belonging to John and Abigail, and the other a supply wagon driven by Lenny and Sean. She knew the raiders would target the supplies and likely attempt to steal their horses too.

This left the fighting to Arthur, Charles, and Javier. Who turned back at the sound of the commotion. Lenny and Sean leapt into the wagon for cover as they began shooting blind into the night, the horses crying out in fear. Kate couldn't see Abigail, and she prayed she was well hidden in the wagon with Jack. She made headway to his wagon first. 

She pulled her rifle from her saddle and called out to John, who was firing round after round from his revolver, doing no good against the fast riding raiders. 

“John!” she shouted, catching his attention, he looked down from his seat in the wagon. 

“Kate?” He said, taken back by the sight of her, “you need to find cover!” Concern laced his voice. 

She ignored his statement, holding the rifle up for him, “take this, it's a better shot. Aim for the shrubs, they're using them as cover.” She urged. 

John nodded and took the weapon without hesitation, quickly counting the rounds in the ammunition, “thanks, what will you use?” He asked, already getting in position to take aim. 

“Don’t worry about me,” she answered, determination in her voice, “protect your family.” 

Lorena brought her around to the back of the wagon and she peered inside, sure enough Abigail was clutching Jack to her breast, white knuckled and face scrunched in silent fear. As if she was hoping this was just a bad dream they would wake from. Jack, trying to be brave, trembled in his mother's arms. Without hesitation, Kate leaped into the wagon, placing a comforting hand on Abigail's shoulder. She startled at her touch, “easy Abigail, it's just me, you need to take this.” She held out her own revolver. Abigail opened her eyes and shook her head with a sob. Kate's heart throbbed at the sight of her. 

"I’m not letting go of him!" she cried, her voice quivering with emotion. "When is this going to end?" Her plea carried the weight of past traumas, threatening to overwhelm her.

Knowing they had no time to waste, Kate pressed the revolver into Abigail's trembling hand. She needed a means to defend herself if the worst was going to happen. Jack whimpered at the sounds of gunfire coming from John at the seat of the wagon. She gave him a reassuring look, “be brave for your momma okay? If anybody comes, you shout for me and I’ll come runnin’,” she added with a smile, placing a hand on his little head. He nodded in understanding. 

Lorena waited at the back of the wagon as Kate mounted her and took off towards the fray. She needed to come up with a plan, and fast. She gave her firearms to the Marston family. Which left her with only close range weapons. She reached into her saddle bag and pulled out a tomahawk. It had been a long time since she’s used an old weapon of war. 

With determination she nudged her mare in the belly and took off. The familiar leather grip of her tomahawk left her with a sense of bitter nostalgia. Memories of an old friend came flooding back, and old instincts she had long buried bubbled to the surface. 

In the distance, she spotted Arthur, locked in combat with a raider. His skill and ferocity were undeniable as he dispatched two foes with swift precision. Kate watched, her heart heavy with unspoken truths.

Arthur is wrestling with a giant, Charles' words sounded in her mind. She had faced her own giants, and kept them at bay like a hunter taming a wild beast. She never got the chance to tell him. She would release her giant tonight, and if they survived, she vowed to share her secrets with Arthur, laying bare the depths of her soul.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Under the cloak of night, time seemed to stretch endlessly, though mere minutes had passed. The raiders fell one by one, a testament to their careful strategy. It dawned on the others that shooting wildly was futile; they needed to close the gap.

For Kate, the chaos played to her strengths. While she lacked skill with a gun, in close combat, she was unparalleled. The sickening crunch of bone echoed as her tomahawk met the skull of a raider, sending him crashing to the ground. The scene before her, once familiar yet now unsettling, reminded her of the darkness she had left behind. Yet, there was no joy in the violence; only relief that she no longer found pleasure in such brutality.

With only a few foes left standing, Arthur's gaze found hers, his worry palpable. She reassured him with a nod, urging him to focus on the task at hand.

Scanning the chaotic scene, Kate spotted a lone raider sneaking up on John's wagon, his focus fixed on protecting his brother. With a swift movement, she sprang into action.

She hollered to get the man's attention, as well as Johns. It didn't matter who took him down, as long as he was stopped. Closing the distance, she gripped her weapon high, readying for the strike. The raider turned just as Kate swung, narrowly missing his head as a shot rang out. She was unsure if it was John’s or the bandits until pain shot through her side. The man barely squeezed by her horse and the wagon, and took off in the opposite direction. Ignoring the pain, Kate followed. 

Arthur joined the chase, and together they pursued the raider. Lorena surged forward, fueled by the thrill of the chase. Leaning down to her horse's ear, Kate whispered, "Feels like old times, huh, girl?" Lorena snorted in agreement. Despite her clingy and skittish nature. She was bred to be a war horse, and in her blood she fought just as savagely as her rider. 

She closed in and brought her mare tauntingly close to the last man. With a swift motion she collided the blade with the man's ankle, nearly cutting his own foot off, causing him to fall out of the saddle. He did not reach for his weapon, as he used his last round in an attempt to kill her, instead he lay on his back and put his hands out in mercy. 

Kate dismounted and trudged over to him. 

“I-I’m unarmed!” He pleaded, “please miss you wouldn’t kill an unarmed man!” 

She tossed the tomahawk to the ground and the man eased for a moment, until she pulled her hunting knife out of her belt. His eyes widened and he tried to stand, but his ankle was only holding on by a bit of flesh. 

Arthur finally caught up to them and dismounted, “don’t kill him yet Kate, we need to find out who they are. They could be O’Driscolls.” Kate ignored him, the pain in her side igniting into a blazing fire. The metallic tang of her own blood filled her senses, but she pushed past it with a fierce glare.

“Don’t look like an O'Driscoll to me,” she rasped. Fighting the urge to drive her knife into his belly. Echoes of an old mantra rang in her ears, “our job is to ensure our enemies fear is greater than their greed.”  

“I-I aint an O’Driscoll, we’re just a couple of horse thieves. That’s all,” the man pleaded, using his forearms to distance himself from her. 

The world felt dizzy, her memories of her past began mixing with the present. “That’s all?” She mocked, “you would take these people’s lives,” her voice hoarse, “just for a few horses?” Before he could answer she forcefully kicked him in the belly, hard enough to break a few ribs. The man rolled onto his stomach and spit up blood. 

In a flash, Kate mounted the man from behind, gripping a fistfull of his hair and forcefully pulling back towards her chest. She placed the knife at the edge of his throat, Arthur saw the fire in her eyes as she ended the man's life, sickeningly slow. 

As she drew the blade over his neck she muttered the words low in his ear, “what you take from the land will be taken from you. Know that I am the land, and the land is killing you.” 

As the raider choked on his own blood, Kate dropped his head in the dirt. The wound was not deep enough to kill him quickly. He would asphyxiate for the next several hours, a combination of bleeding out and choking to death. He would teeter on the brink of consciousness, not knowing if he is alive or dead. It was a slow sentence, a merciless one. It was pure torture.  

Arthur stood in stunned silence, his gaze fixed on Kate. He had witnessed his fair share of violence, and dealt with his own. But the intensity in her eyes was unfamiliar, unsettling. She seemed transformed, a wildness emanating from her like a primal force. 

“I didn’t know you could fight like that,” he said awkwardly, unsure if it was the right thing to say at the moment. He had seen a different side of her. And he had a feeling it was one that she was clearly trying to keep buried. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, and he was left grappling with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Kate retrieved her tomahawk and mounted her horse, her movements strained with pain. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Morgan," she replied tersely, her usual sharpness replaced by a somber tone. "We need to keep moving," she added, urging her horse forward. She felt sick to her stomach, the pain mixed with rage and shame and fear. A whirlwind of emotions, it had been years since she killed somebody. She vowed to give that life up. And now, she was riding off with a bunch of outlaws. Leaving behind a bloody battlefield. Arthur watched her ride off, a knot of worry forming in his stomach.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

They rode past Dewberry Creek and down to Clemens Point. A hidden spot on the peninsula of the lake, only a few miles from Rhodes. It was a decent hiding spot. As the last of the caravan pulled in, the members who made it ahead of the chaos came rushing out to greet them. 

As Kate was the last to reach Clemens Point, the weight of the recent events hung heavy on her shoulders. She gazed out at the lake, its surface reflecting the dim light of the moonlit sky. A secluded spot on the beach offered a brief respite from the chaos that had engulfed them, and Kate welcomed the solitude.

Dismounting her horse, she felt the exhaustion settle into her bones like a heavy blanket. Her hands, streaked with dirt and blood, trembled slightly as she reached for the saddle buckles. With a heavy sigh, she removed the burden from Lorena's back, the weight of it suddenly feeling unbearable. As Lorena trotted off to the water's edge, letting out a contented sigh as the coolness soothed her weary joints, Kate couldn’t help but chuckle. Perhaps she had pushed her loyal mare a bit too hard today.

Grabbing a brush from her saddlebag, Kate set to work cleaning Lorena's coat, the rhythmic motion a comforting distraction from the chaos that had unfolded. In the distance, she could hear the other members of the gang recounting the night's events, their voices a mix of concern, exhaustion, and celebration.

As a pair of hooves approached, Kate knew without looking that it was Arthur. Dismounting, he joined her by the water's edge, letting Belle cool herself alongside Lorena. "Mind if I join ya?" he asked quietly, uncertainty lacing his voice. Kate nodded in response, and Arthur settled onto the sand beside her, kicking off his boots to let the water lap at his feet.

The air was thick with humidity, and the sounds of frogs and cicadas filling the night. It felt strange to be going back east, but somehow it didn’t bother her that her journey had been interrupted.

After a moment of silence, Kate broached the subject that had been weighing on her mind. "You wanna tell me what happened in Valentine?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Arthur sighed heavily, his gaze distant as he recounted the events of the day. "It started with the train job. The law showed up fast, too fast, and we barely made it out of there," he explained. "Cornwall's men nearly killed John the next morning. We made it out, but not without killing half the town.”

Kate shook her head in disbelief, her heart heavy with the weight of Arthur's words. Before she could respond, Arthur spoke again, his voice filled with remorse. "I'm so sorry, Kate. I never wanted to drag you into all this mess. Especially after what Micah did," he added with a bitter scoff. "I don’t know why you turned back." 

"I didn't do it just for you," Kate replied after a moment, her gaze meeting Arthur's with unwavering determination. "I did it for Abigail and her boy. From one mother to another." Arthur looked at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He caught the new information, but his heart fluttered at the idea that she turned back for him as well. 

“I’ve never seen a woman fight like that, it was,” he trailed and Kate was the one to interrupt this time. 

“I know, you don't have to say it. I’m not exactly proud of it,” she looked down in shame. 

Arthur offered a warm smile, “I was gonna say it was real brave.” 

She smiled sadly and shook her head, “still don’t make it right.”

“It was either us or them Kate, don’t beat yourself up about it,” Arthur reassured her. “You know, I’d understand if you still want to leave. But we could surely use some of that bravery around here.” 

Kate nodded and took a deep breath, steeling herself to share something important. “I’ll stay Arthur,” she began, “but, there’s some things I think you should know about me.” 

“We all come from different places, your past is your past,” he said sincerely, “If you don’t wanna share that I don’t want you to think ya have to.” Her heart warmed at the gesture, he was being considerate. After everything he saw he would still grant her the privacy of her past, but that wasn't her plan. 

“No, I want to tell you,” Kate paused, collecting her thoughts, “I think you’ll understand me better. And after what happened at the Downes ranch, I owe it to you.”

Arthur’s curiosity peaked, the conversation from a fortnight weighed heavy on his mind. And he wanted to know how her story tied into that. His mind already raced with assumptions, after seeing the way she fought he couldn't help but wonder if she was on the run from the law too. Or something worse. 

“Alright,” he settled back against the sand, giving her his full attention.  “I’m here to listen, Kate.” 

With a heavy sigh, she decided to start from the beginning. “I’ve known death since I was a child. It began with a railway accident in Boston that took my mother and little sister from me, leaving behind my father and older brother. At the time, my father owned a ranch where we raised dairy cattle. He didn’t take their deaths well, and fell into a depression. My brother and I couldn't keep up with the work alone, so we were forced to sell and move. Thankfully, a family friend took us in on their farm. It was there I met my husband, and for a while, we were sweet on one another.”

Kate recalled the memories, her heart flooding with grief, “we lived there a few years. And when my brother was old enough he joined a mining company, and it was another accident that took his life too. It sent my father over the deep end, and so he hung himself in the barn. Like he suddenly forgot he still had a living child.”

Arthur's face softened, understanding the weight of her losses. To him, it sounded like Kate had a proper family—one that truly loved and cared for each other. 

“I got married the next year, and finally things felt like they were turning for the better. My husband and I built a little ranch together. In a few years, we welcomed a baby girl into our home.” Her voice choked with emotion. “My life felt as perfect as it could get. I miss my family dearly, but I felt like I was carrying on their memory by starting my own.”

Arthur didn't want to think about where her story was going; it was painfully familiar to him. Kate shifted in the sand, wincing as a sharp pain shot up her side. She had forgotten about the bullet in her flesh. The area had gone numb, and the mixed feelings of grief and searing pain caused tears to stream down her cheeks.

“Lorena didn’t even make it through her first summer before disease took her from me, and as if death couldn't have enough, it took my husband from me too.” Her voice shook with pain. 

Arthur sighed, his heart full of sympathy as he observed Kate's emotional turmoil. "Oh, Kate," he said softly, reaching out to comfort her. However, his concern heightened as he noticed the sand around her stained red. "Kate, you're bleeding!" His voice rose with worry.

She nodded, wincing as she reached around her side. "I got shot," she answered, her voice trembling.

"Why didn’t you say anything?" Arthur was already getting up to inspect the wound. "Let me see."

Kate untucked her shirt and lifted it up for Arthur to examine. The bullet had entered just above her hip bone, lodged in the fatty area of her waist. "How bad is it?" she asked, her voice still shaky.

With gentle fingers, Arthur prodded at the wound. It was angry and swollen, and she winced at his touch. He concluded that the bullet was still inside, "the bullet’s still in there, but I think I can get it out. I don't think it hit anything important," he noted, assessing the severity of her injury.

Kate nodded and lifted her shirt further, revealing deep faded scars scattered across her back in the moonlight. “Jesus, Kate,” Arthur muttered softly in surprise. He paused before touching her again, afraid that she might break beneath him like an old clay pot. "What happened?" His voice was as soft as a whisper, fearful of what her answer might reveal.

Closing her eyes, Kate winced once again as Arthur’s hands returned to her wound. “I’ll tell ya once you get this thing out of me,” she replied.

Arthur nodded and, with a gentle hand, held the front of her waist while using his other hand to extract the bullet like it was a cyst, squeezing it out agonizingly slow. Instinctively, she grabbed onto his hand around her waist for support, finding solace in his warmth.

“There, got it,” Arthur said, a hint of pride in his voice as he handed Kate the small pebble that had caused her so much discomfort. “Think of it like a souvenir,” he joked.

“I’ve got plenty of souvenirs,” she mused, tossing the bullet into the lake. Arthur understood she was referring to the scars.

“Come back to my tent,” Arthur suggested, “I’ll stitch you up while you continue to catch me up on the last 10 years of your life.” His tone was playful, an attempt to lighten her mood. Arthur could already tell that her life had been incredibly hard, and seeing the marks on her back only confirmed his fears. Kate nodded, and Arthur helped her walk back to his tent.

To her surprise, the camp was put together rather quickly. Most of the members had settled down around the fire or had gone to bed. Arthur’s things were off to the side of the small clearing, offering him some privacy. His wagon had not been completely unloaded, but there was a cot, as well as a milk crate and an oil lamp. It was no hospital but it would have to do. He gently helped her sit down on his cot while he rummaged through his belongings for the right supplies to stitch her wound. Kate took the opportunity to continue her story. 

“Funny thing about this land,” she started, “our constitution says all men are created equal. But I’m a woman, a widow. They tell us our land is free, but what freedom do I have? I cannot own land, can’t take out a loan, can’t purchase anything in my own name. Choices come with freedom, but I had no choices at all.”

Arthur gave her a sympathetic look, he wasn't always proud of his sex. Most of the men in his life were not good role models, and he himself couldn't understand why some men treated women the way that they did. 

“I had an aunt in Southern California, I never met her but my father had talked about her growing up. So I wrote to her, in a handful of pages I explained everything. And begged her to let me live with her,” she inhaled sharply as Arthur cleaned her wound with alcohol. 

“I was a sorry sight,” she remarked, “I was so terrified to be on my own, and travel across the entire country just to avoid being sent to a nunnery or sold to another man as his bride. I had enough money to get me to Virginia, and after that I had to find my own way.”

In the dim light Arthur sat crouched on the ground beneath her while Kate sat in his cot. She looked down at him, working diligently and so tenderly to clean her wound as painless as possible. His gaze was fixed and intent while he worked, but Kate knew he was taking in every word she said. 

“So I joined a caravan that was heading west to Arizona. I figured they could at least get me close enough. Only problem was they were all German, and had very little knowledge of how to travel across the American west," Kate said with a bitter chuckle, “there were a few ranchers that came with us, and we tried to teach them what we could. Most of them couldn't even ride a horse!” She exclaimed. 

Arthur blew out a breath, “oh they were doomed from the start.” 

“It started with 72 of us, and we began to lose people as soon as we hit the Appalachian trail. Their carelessness became contagious; sickness and snakes, bad horses and poison berries. But of all the perils awaiting us, there was one word so feared it was barely spoken and barely whispered… the river.” 

Arthurs blood went cold. He couldn’t imagine the fear and terror as innocent families were ripped apart by dark waters. Punished simply for seeking a better life. The land was more merciless than any outlaw he knew. He noticed Kate relax under his touch, he worked gently as he ran the pad of his thumb over the flesh of her scars. Small bumps and lines, like tiny mountains in a cartography map. Like these scars mapped her history. Where she stood tall and brave in the face of danger. He admired her, being young and alone in this world was terrifying. He knew that feeling well. 

“The Kanawha river nearly took all of us that day. We came out the other side with barely 15 people,” Kate shook her head at the memory, “I thought we had seen the worst. But it was only the beginning, Arthur.” 

He looked up at the sound of his name, her voice trembling with fear. Their eyes locked and he saw a broken girl looking back at him. They shared a silent moment of understanding. He had heard stories from Appalachia, it was something a child could not muster even in their worst nightmares. Reaching for her arm, he squeezed her gently, “Kate,” he said softly, like he was crooning a baby, “you don’t have to tell me if the memories hurt.” 

Warmth spread over her cheeks as silent tears fell, her heart was in her throat. It had been so long since she talked to someone about it. For the first time in years she felt like Arthur was the only person truly seeing her. 

“We had crossed into Lakota hunting territory,” she continued, “there was a feud over the land between the tribe and the Virginia government. But it didn’t matter for us, the Indians came anyway. They killed all the men, leaving only myself and two other girls. I couldn’t do anything but watch it happen. I was no use with a gun and I had no idea where to go. So they took me.” 

“And I knew I was going to die.” 

[silly-thinkings]

A gift from Cadmus Pt.4

Lex gently caressed his face as he finished up the last of his nightly skincare routine. The man wrapped his silk robe around his body and made his way to his bed. At his bedside, a duplicate of the rose he gave Y/n illuminated a soft glow. Using Magic wasn’t really his style, But it was the only way he could successfully invade Y/N’s mind. Gaining her trust will be far from easy. 

He smiled before dragging down his sleeping mask.  “Active dreamer aren’t we? Let’s see what’s on that mind of yours child.”

Darkness. As far as the eye could see. Y/n flew to where she thought was up but there was nothing. The silence calmed her in a way. No responsibility, no need to try for anything, y/n was free to just… exist. As she floated around the empty space she heard the sound of static, as if an old tv was turning on. The bright screen turned on above Y/n shocking the poor girl. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness On the screen Bruce stood with his back facing hers. She attempted to speak, but no sound was heard. Y/n pressed her hands on the screen and slammed it with all her might to no avail.

“She’s going to  cover for me. She’s been doing it anyway. You just don’t let her-” 

Y/n felt comfortable hearing Jasons voice, But Bruce shook his head “absolutely not. She’d be useless.”

Useless? 

Confused y/n attempted to call out to her family again.

“No, she’s too dangerous. A weapon cannot be controlled.” 

A new being entered the screen. Now Clark stood next to Bruce. He too had his back facing her. 

Y/n felt her chest tighten. It was hard to breathe, what was she watching? Why can’t she speak? She gripped her chest this was too much. 

Connor, Tim, and Dick appeared behind Jason. Y/n noticed string behind Connor. When she followed it her ragged breathing worsened. Y/N’s body suddenly jerked backwards. It was as if someone had yanked her hair to see the bigger picture. Y/N’s eyes widened at the very giant Megan holding onto marionette handles. 

She laughed “this is for your own good Y/n” 

No. No no NO! 

Y/n stepped back, horrified by the imagery in front of her. He pressed her hands on her head. laughter, random chatter, even car honks could be heard. 

Y/n couldn’t take it. She fell to her knees “stop. Stop it. I’m not useless, I can help. It’s not my fault. I’m trying!”

The crescendo of the noise drove her mad. But all sound fell silent as A gentle hand was placed on top of her head. Y/n shook at her spot, the sudden silence startling her. 

“It’s alright child. I’m here. I am proud.”

Y/n shakily looked up. Lex knelt infront of her with a gentle smile on his face “it’s ok.” He caresses her hair, the action greatly calming her. Her breathing still uncontrollable, eyes blurring her vision. Y/n pounced, hugging the bald man.

Lex was stunned. He didn’t expect her to… hug him. He slowly brought his hands down, returning the hug.

“They call you a weapon because they fear you Y/n. It’s human nature to fear what they do not understand.”

Y/n attempted to speak again but no volume could be heard. Lex’s words were cool as he continued to gently caress the girls head. Y/N’s breathing began to calm. Accepting the comfort.

“They’re right. You are a weapon. But a strong one child.” 

Lex rose her head and wiped her fallen tears. Y/N’s crying quelled as she looked at his facial features. She saw no lie in his words.

“Show them how strong you are. Prove to them that you are worth their time! Ill always be here for you dear girl.” 

6 Hours till…

Y/n gasped as she woke from her surreal nightmare. Her hands tightly gripped the sheets, looking around the unfamiliar room. Beads of sweat dripped down her face. 

Disgusted, Y/n wiped her face with the sheets. She heard the sounds of birds chirping outside the window. A roosters crowing accompanied the sound. ���How did I get here?” 

Y/n remembered last night. Only Alfred showed up to her show. Alfred and Lex Luthor…

Beside the bed the mechanical flower bloomed and rotated slightly, grabbing Y/n attention. Gold, silver, ruby, diamond. All kinds of gems were bedazzled from the petals to the stem. Y/n gently picked up the flower, her eyes soaked in the beautiful creation. It calmed her as she remembered her dream. 

Y/n brought the artificial plant close to her face “You’re beautiful” 

The flower opened wider, it tilted its petals side to side. Y/n giggled “you’re sentient? Well. I know plants are but you are clearly not like any normal plant.” 

The flower swayed from side to side as if it were responding to her. Y/n bit her bottom lip. Connor had sphere and wolf. This was hers. It didnt matter that Lex gave it to her. The door opened slightly starting the girl. She held the flower close as she turned her head to the entrance of the room.  Clark wore his very classic blue and white stripped pajamas “hey. You’re up early.”

Y/n held the flower closer to her.  Shifting her weight “Had a bad dream.” 

“May I come in?” 

Y/n looked down. To her surprise the flower closed up. It was wilted again which greatly confused her.

“Sure…”

Clark entered, the soft yellow light from the hallway dimly lit up the room. When he sat on the bed the mattress tilted slightly. “It’s 6am.”

Y/n nodded her head slightly “the early bird gets the worm.”

Clark looked at the glass jar that housed the wilted flower. “Lex is a dangerous man.”

Y/n didn’t respond. Nor did she make eye contact. 

“He always has something up his sleeve. Be weary y/n I don’t think that’s safe.”

A dry chuckled escaped her lips “you speak like you’re any better.” Y/n began lightly tapping the glass. 

“I’m sorry?”

Y/n finally looked up at him. She began tapping her temple with her index finger “you know what was taken from me. You know why I can’t participate in missions. It’s cause I’m a weapon.” Y/n slightly tilted her head “right?”

Clark froze. An anxious feeling loomed over him. “I don’t know what you mean y/n. Are you ok?”

Y/n felt… good. She made The man of steel stress. A soft knock caught the attention of both beings. Louis stood at the door with breakfast on a mini table. “You must be hungry Y/n.”

Louis looked at Clark’s tense shoulders “I didn’t interrupt anything did I?”

Y/n smiled. She playfully shook her head “nope. Uncle Clark and I were just talking.” Y/n got up from bed and took the breakfast tray with ease she placed the flower on the corner  “thank you for the breakfast.”

Y/n left the two alone. Clark let out an exasperated sigh as he brushed his fingers through his hair. Louis sat beside him, placing a hand on his stiff shoulders. “Are you ok?”

“Something wrong with Y/n.”

~~ 3 hours till~

The football game was frustrating. It was already bad enough to play in a team that underestimated her because she was a girl. She watched the ball get intercepted by the opponent and groaned. “You guys suck.”

“Well I don’t see you doing anything princess!” 

Y/N’s eye twitched. She began hopping in place stretching her arms.  At the sound of the whistle their opponent got another point. 

Y/n can see clark in the distance throw his hat down. “C’mon! Get the ball!” Other parents from her team commented on Clark’s behavior, making y/n smile but only for a short while.

As the team set up for the last play. The quarterback attempted to push Y/n. Unfortunately for him, he bumped into what felt like steel. Y/n turned “pass me the ball.” She poked his chest hard “if you want to win”

“Whatever freak.” 

Clark heard the interaction and frowned. “You got this Y/n!” He clapped his hands in the hopes of motivating the girl. But her eyes, even from here he could see the cold sneer she gave him.

“Down… set… HIKE”

Y/n felt the ground beneath her sink as she channeled her strength to her calves then her feet. She skillfully dodged her opponents making herself wide open. Y/n watched the ball fly over her prompting her to run faster. 

“Bruce please.”

“Not now Alfred.”

“If not now when?”

Y/n heard Alfred and Bruce crystals clear. She looked around but they weren’t here. 

“Y/N! The ball!”

Y/n looked up. She came up short, the girl jumped making contact with the ball with her fingertips but it tipped over. Y/n landed on her back with a hard thud. The grass pricked at her skin. 

No, she can’t loose. Not like this. Not when Clark is watching. The world watching.

“Is she ok?”

“What an idiot”

“Waisted talent.”

Noise. More noise. Everything moved in slow motion as the football fell. The sound of the whistle ten times louder. Cheers and frustration all around. Y/n felt dizzy, she covered her ears as the noise intensified. Everything was too loud.  

“Pass the ball~ useless!” A teammate mocked.

The team crowded the poor girl. She brought her body as close a she could, like a ball. 

“what the hell y/n I thought you said you had it?”

“Princess of Gothem? More like a spoiled brat.”

Y/n pressed her hands to her ears as tightly she could. This was super hearing. Somehow she unlocked a new ability. And this one was annoying. However, she did hear Bruce and Alfred. Meaning she has enough range to listen to what they were currently saying. Y/n took deep breaths, ignoring all the noise, searching for the one thing she wanted to hear.

Clark pushed her so called team out the way. His hight was intimidating as he looked down on her peers “leave.”

Some blew a raspberry while others scurried off to their coach. Clark knelt down “Y/n what’s happening.”

The girl sucked her teeth. She looked at his offered hand and slapped it away before standing up herself.

The Kryptonian was taken aback with the response “hey… you did great out there im sure the next season wills be-“ 

“Where’s my rose?” 

Clark straightened his posture “in the car. Y/n what’s going on?”

Y/n pressed a hand to her ear “It would seem I’ve acquired super hearing. Now if you’ll excuse me.” 

Y/n attempted to move past Clark but he stepped in front of her “sorry… given your behavior I’m not letting you go near that thing.” 

“Not… letting.. me.” 

Clark watched as Y/n knelt on one knee. Maybe the pain of the superhearing was getting too much? This could be a great teaching moment. 

Y/n made sure her cleats were firmly on the grass “who said I needed your permission.” 

It happened fast. So fast in fact you’d probably mistake her for a speedster. Y/n slammed all of her strength on her left foot, not caring for the multiple eye witnesses. She needed to leave. She needed her rose. She needed to know what the hell Bruce and Alfred were talking about. 

Clark saw everything but he didn’t move. If he wanted to he could catch up to her but when and how did she have such skill with her powers. Connor didn’t even possess that level of skill when he came out his pod.

Clark reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone: 

“Bruce. Something wrong with Y/n call me” 

**Send** ~Meanwhile~

 Bruce interlocked his fingered looking upon the many screens. 

One of them was a text from Clark. He didn’t read it but he did notice Y/n. Many cases consumed him, he was thankful Tim had been helping. However, no Jason. His son decided it would be best if he stole on of his motorcycles. 

“One night Bruce. The ONE night you promised to show up and you’ve failed.” 

Alfred’s words were snappy and cold. His disappointment strong. Bruce didn’t turn around to face him. Instead he leaned back “I’m sorry Alfred. I’ll make it up to her when I’m done.” 

“W-what make it up to her? You’ll need to do more then that Bruce. She cried for you. Don’t you understand? That child has been carrying a burden all this time and you think it’ll be easy to make it up to her?”

The room fell silent once more. Of course Bruce had nothing to say.

“Of all people Lex Luthor made an appearance.”

Now Bruce was paying attention. He turned in his seat to face the Butler “what did he want?”

Alfred closed his eyes “nothing Bruce. He did something that you should have done. He even gave her a gift that-“

“And you let her keep it?”

Bruce turned back around facing a computer. He typed some things to see a red dot moving particularly fast, leaving metropolis “I thought you said she was with Clark…” Alfred also looked at the screen. He felt slight unease watching the tracker weave around “I left her there for the night. Something mustve happened in the game.”

Another alert popped up on the screen, a broadcast all throughout Ghothem. Bruce’s face fell at the horror that was on his screen.

“Oh batsyyy! I got one of your little birds~” The Joker sang ~~~

2 hours till…

Connor placed both hands on his face. The sounds of his team scrambling to find both Jason and Y/n was unnerving.

“Its ok, we’ll find them” Megan placed a hand on his hoping to calm connor down but it didnt work.

“I missed her game, I wasn’t even invited to her end of the year performance because of how busy ive been.” Connor stood “This is no time to be sitting here.

The zeta tubes announced Y/n’s presence. Connor and Megan quickly went to the entrance but were shocked at Y/n’s appearance.

She wore the same black domino mask that the rest of the bats use on her face. A black dress with white shoes and a Flower circled around her, the most off thing she wore however were the thick noise canciling headphones.

Megan stopped moving but Connor approached his younger sister giving her a big hug “where have you been?we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Megan noticed the lack of response from the girl. Her eyes cold and locked on to hers. She didnt even return the hug her brother gave. Majority of young Justice were present.

“Y/n cant know about whats happening with Jason. Keep her clear from the mission room.” Dick spoke through the mind link.

“Connor, get away from her. Somethings not right.”“Whats wrong?”“Y/n is acting totally strange. Theres also a creepy flower circling her.”Dick saw Zetannas face fell “Im on my way. Dont anger at all.”As she turned to leave Dick grabbed her arm “what do you know?”

“That flower could very much be a Familiar that amplifies negative emotions. How the hell could she have gotten something like that?” Connor heard everything that was said through the mind link. He slowly stood, but when he attempted to move away Y/n took his hand in hers.

“I would love to show you something big brother. Its about your girlfriend.” Y/n held onto connors hand in a vice grip. Y/n began walking to the living area “You too Megan, I dont want you left out.”

Connor and Megan looked at each other then back at Y/n. “Sit, get comfy.” Unbeknownst to them Y/n was all kinds of excited. Today would be the day she would expose the martian for all her misdeeds. She connected the laptop to the television and skillfully hacked into their cameras. Magan noticed the dates she was inputting and stood “Y/n what are you doing.”

Y/n’s grin was wide when she pressed play. The two watched as Magan erased Connors memories all thoes years ago.

“Its for your own good” Y/n said at the same time as Megan did in the video. Connor looked to His girlfriend then back to the screen. “What is this?”

Y/n couldnt contain her giggle. She pressed another button to show The meeting. Magan stood “Its not what it looks like Connor.”

He ignored her and continued to watch the screen with Y/n. she continuously tapped her temple with her finger “She played us Connor. She’s the reason why I can join missions. She used you Connor.”

Zettanna finally showed herself. She casted a spell towards Y/n but the girl was fast. Y/n lifted one of her legs and slammed it to the ground initiating her flight. “Problem?”

“Y/n give me the flower now.”

Y/n held onto her stomach as she laughed. The kid of maniacal laughter youd hear a villain do “Lex gave this to me. He was the only one that bothered to show up at my performance.”

Connor glared at Megan, the teen attempted to reach to him only for him to back away “We’re done”

He didnt let her speak as he himself jumped up to grab his sister. To his surprise it worked. When connor landed Zetanna ran up to them and grabbed the flower.

“Let me go! Connor! I showed you the truth and this is how you treat me!”

“Y/n stay still. This isnt like you.” Connor couldnt believe the strength his sister was dishing out. Zetanna grabbed the flower and threw it down right in front of her. Y/N let out a horrible scream as a black cloud left her body. Dick and Kalduer, all ran out to the scene. Connor finally let go and layed on his back breathing heavy. She was way too strong for a girl that size. Y/n crawled to the broken flower. Her quiet sobs grew as she tried to fix it “Why… why why why WHY! Its not… SHEs the one that ruined everything! Not me” Y/n screamed again at the loss of her new companion before bolting towards Megan. The martian flew high to dodge as best she could but Y/n grabbed her ankle and threw her to the other side of the room.

Dick couldnt belive the sight of his preciouse sister. She was animalistic in a way. He reached into his shoe and pulled out Kryptonite. Y/n’s knees wobbled as she fell to the floor.

“You too…”

All this betrayal. Y/n felt her heart tightened as the people who she once called family look at her like she was the monster. The only person who cared it seemed were Alfred and Jason. Y/n’s fetal attempt of escape was sad.

“Guys I found where the jokers keeping Jason!” Garfield came running out with a proud smile only for him to see the state of everyone.

Y/n looked up. Dick turned letting his guard down only slightly. Jason was taken. By the Joker. No… no way in hell will she let anything happen to someones whos had her back all this time. “Where. Is he…”

Dick Finally looked down at his sister while still holding onto the Kryptonite. She felt a light pinch on her neck before everything went black. Dick put the stone away, picking her up. “I'll take her to the cave… inform Batman about this.

1 hour till

[ginsengkitten]

༺ Beautiful Dangerous ༻

༺☆༻

Chapter Eleven

Written in Plain Sight

A/N:

Tysm for your patience with this one. May is a difficult month for me for personal reasons. I’m still writing and I’m so excited for you guys see where this heads. I hope you guys enjoy <3

Dear Slash,

Im sorry I didn't write you sooner. Things have been a little crazy since I got home. Well, not home actually. My parents have turned me in to this special all girls Christian school that specializes in "troubled young women". Apparently they can legally do that even though I've just turned 18! I never agreed to it, they just left me here. In the middle of nowhere- with these weird nuns. They haven't told me how often mail is sent out so I'm not sure how often I'll write, but I promise I will.

I'm sorry how I left things. I didn't know they were coming to take me home. I tried to say goodbye but they gave me no chance. Please forgive me. This summer was the best time of my whole life. Because I met you.

I know letters are a little prehistoric these days, but I've no access to a phone here. Again, I promise to write often. I'll call you as soon as I'm out.

Love, Foxey.

-

Dear Slash,

I'm not sure if you are receiving my letters. If you are and just don't want to speak to me, I understand that. I know mail can take a while... anyways. I figured writing to you helps me pass the time here. This place is awful. It's been 2 weeks of hell. I was forced to detox from everything. It's been so hard. I hardly sleep at night. But when I do, I am so happy because I dream of you. I also daydream a lot. It helps me get through the day. The days are long and boring. There's not really a curriculum here. Even though they call it a school. The nuns are mean. They took away all my clothing and I have to wear a white dress everyday and every night. It's cold and uncomfortable. Each day consists of the same thing. They wake you up at 6 am every fucking morning. It's barely light out. Then you have to clean your room. If you can only eat breakfast if you pass morning room inspection. I've failed 5 times so far...

Anyways. Sorry. I don't mean to complain to you. I don't have anything exciting to write about. I hope you have having very exciting experiences in LA still. Please write me when you can... I want to know how you are!

Love, Foxey

-

Slash,

Today was horrible. Just horrible. I'm sorry to write you only my miseries, but it feels like that's all I have left lately. Turns out, if you don't comply with every single whim and precision- even making the wrong face, or the tone of your voice, the nuns will be violent with you. They carry rulers, books and at times, even their bare hands- are weapons. I can't exactly remember what I did first to step out of line, all I remember was sister Agatha (she's a total bitch) slapping me so hard across the face, the stinging lasted for hours. I cried a little but only in private. I don't think I want to let them see me cry. I don't want them to know they have that power!

I still wait for your reply. I hope you are well.

Love, Foxey.

-

Hi There,

It's been a while. Sorry for that. I don't have much different to say to you. Or much at all. I think I get your message from your silence. If it all meant nothing to you after all, then so be it. I think maybe I belong here anyways. It's best for everyone. I want to let you know it really hurts me to accept that you are done with me. With us. Just like that. But I respect your decision- even if it's shitty. Maybe that's all rockstars are is shitty. So there. You're shitty and I wish we never met. I hope you're happy.

Best of luck with everything. I love you.

Y/N.

-

And just like that. It was over. The silence from Slash over the past two months was only an added pain to the hell you already endured. For your own sanity, hope was crushing you and you had to give it up. Your parents had called once, but the nuns ensured you weren’t telling them the truth of what it was like there. As quickly as it all unraveled, you sank into your new reality. Pushing out thoughts of escape as the former attempts were futile and had only ended in harsher and harsher punishment .

It was colder now into early November. Other girls had come and gone periodically, none staying long enough for it to be worth harboring any sort of relationship. You spent your days in the day room, a dim, sulky living room type space in the center of the building. Empty tables with broken chess pieces and puzzles with missing pieces scattered. You took throne to an old green chair by the large window.

One person you had managed to form any sort of connection with was the oldest nun in the practice, Sister Graham. She seemed worn down and tired of it all, due to her age, and lack of violence and stern, she’d been demoted down to a secretarial duty. She’d find reasons to come and talk to you when she could. Small but meaningful conversations. The two of you formed a secret bond of hatred for this place. A mutual understanding that this was all that was left for both of you. She’d share bits of her life before she became a nun. She had been sent away at the age of 16 after running away from an arranged marriage to a man 20 years her senior at the time. You felt sad for her, sorry for her, confused as to why she remained here. You told her about your past, how you ended up there. You even opened up to her about Slash and the magical summer you had. She seemed to appreciate the glimmer that became of you when you spoke of it all. Like she understood what it meant to feel young and in love. What it felt like to feel misunderstood and suffocated by the normalcy of the world. She made you feel special amidst it all. And then, one day, she was gone. You waited all week for her to show.

You prodded at nuns all morning as to where she was, “did she die?” “Did she retire?” “Is she sick?” You skipped around. Each question was met with harsh and rude snaps of silence and threatening looks. The confusion and hurt flatlined you again. Back to nothingness. You shifted in bed, staring at the ceiling, images of Slash, summer, everything, bleeding through your mind like a movie. The anger of his silence, the hurt, the betrayal, all of it stung within you so badly. Allowing it to get to you, you angrily chuck your pillow to the other side of the room with a frustrated sob. Feathers bust out of the pillow, completely ruining it. You came to your senses quickly with regret and knelt over the pillow to pick up the discarded feathers. You hadn’t changed your pillow case this week, and now you’ve broken the pillow altogether. Great. It was sure you’d get punished for this in the morning. Your hand brushes against a piece of paper as you sift through the feathers. That’s odd- where did this come from? You pick it up and it appears to be a small folded note. You take a precautious look at your door before unfolding it.

“R. 308

Nov. 21. 8pm to west wing parking lot.”

What the hell? You don’t recall writing this down. This was clearly stuffed in your pillow case. When? Why? What does it mean? Did someone put this here? Your heart beat with confusion, apprehensive to feel any sort of excitement at fear of being disappointed again. It was late, and there was seldom to do with this new information except to sleep on it. So you did.

Surely enough, as you had predicted, the nuns took notice of your destroyed pillow and sentenced you to janitorial duties for the entire day. You scrubbed away at the hallway at the end of the wing. Dragging your bucket of dirty water like a gross companion. You grumbled to yourself as you mopped. Suddenly a sister enters the hallway from out of a room and almost slips on the fresh wet floor. She gives a stabbing glare.

“Well hurry it up and get it finished so you’re not such a hazard girl.” She snarks as she walks away. You want to bark back but you know better. The room she had left was left cracked. You stared at the door with curiosity before noticing the room number plaque before you .

“Room 308”.

Wait a minute. R308? Like the note? You take yet another precautious glance behind you to the empty hall to ensure no one would see you now sneak yourself into the room.

Surely there’s something of importance in here? It appeared to be some sort of administrative office. Piles of papers decorated the entire room. You strolled around carefully eying everything. This is a mail room, this is all mail? This is all patient mail, no? It is. How interesting? Why’s there so much in here? Your eyes scan and roll over a large stack prominently sticking out of a box on the desk. You recognize the stationary and realize it to be some of your own letters to slash. What the hell? You start shuffling through the box in a greater panic and confusion. These were all supposed to be sent out, sent to Slash! Were none of them ever mailed?! Your heart dropped to your stomach and your chest tightened.

You wanted to stay longer, to further examine and investigate this, but the reality was clear. No letters written had been sent to anyone. They lied. You hurriedly skimmed through the pile to see if any had come in from Slash but you only saw the ones you wrote. All of them opened too. They’ve just been reading them and keeping them….

Before you could sulk, you quietly exited the room to ensure no one saw you sneaking in there. Clearly you were not supposed to know this. Rage, Hurt, Confusion, coiled inside you once more. All this time? Out of all the emotions rushing through you at that moment, the scariest one was now hope. Hope again filtered into you. Maybe Slash had never ignored you. Maybe he just didn’t know where to write!

After returning to your room that evening, you re read the obscure note once more.

“Nov 21”

That’s tomorrow. Nov 21st is tomorrow. Someone wants me to go to the west parking lot at 8pm tomorrow. But who? And why?