#i cannot talk you out of it. i cannot force you to stay alive i don't have that authority over you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rosenclaws · 1 month ago

Text

Different Side of the Track || 50's Greaser!Logan smut

summary: All your life your parents had created the perfect image of their daughter that you were forced to fit into but when you went off to college and came back with a degree they were nothing but ashamed. Claimed that it wasn't a ladies place to be educated like that. So why not ruin their good family image even more and sleep with the older hot and mysterious man with a motorcycle.

warnings: MINORS DNI, SMUT, fem!reader, breast play, doggy style, rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, borderline abusive family, sexism, harassment from a group of assholes, violent Logan.

wc: 4.6k

halloween masterlist || join my discord!

a/n: It's my birthday! So to celebrate I wrote this fic because I couldn't get the idea out of my head and god he's hot. Also I didn't really try to do proper 50's talk because I'm lazy and I cannot handle all the research jaldfk;s. This ended up a little angstier than normal, as my fics usually do lol. The ending isn't my favorite but I tried im sorry asdfjkl. Okay anyways I really hope you like it!

You truly hated this town. College was a breath of fresh air and while it wasn’t always easy, it was better than home. You got your degree, proudest day of your life. Even if your parents didn’t show up. Even if you had to smile in the picture by yourself, watching everyone else celebrate with their families. Your parents never understood your want to go to college.

You thought they’d be proud but if anything they were ashamed. They think that a woman pursuing higher education was unladylike. That a woman's place was to stay at home and take care of the kids. They were embarrassed of you, refused to acknowledge any of your achievements.

You wished you could have stayed in your college town but then you got the letter. Your grandmother had passed and you needed to come home. You were heartbroken. Your grandmother was the only one to support you, and helped you when you worked countless hours at the diner to pay for it. She celebrated when the acceptance letter came in and she gave you the biggest hug when you left.

Coming home was a no-brainer, needing to be here for her funeral but now you’re stuck at home with your parents and life is miserable. You were counting down the days until you could get out of here again. You spent as much time as you could out of the house.

Going to work, dreaming of another life. Doing literally anything you could to stay out and away from your parents. That’s how you found yourself here. Taking midnight shifts at the diner to stare at the man sitting at the counter.

Logan. It was sewed onto the patch on his jumpsuit. You don’t even know his last name but you do know that you want to know everything about him. He worked at the mechanic shop right across the street. He was dark, brooding, mysterious. He didn’t talk to anyone. Just ordered one black coffee and sat there with the paper. This was a small town and you had never seen or heard of him before.

“You’ll catch flies if you don’t shut your mouth there pumpkin.” You feel a hand on your jaw and you swat it away. Betty, your coworker was grinning like a madwoman. She was a sweet old lady who has worked at this diner for longer than you’ve been alive.

“Oh hush.” You look down at your order sheet. Sketches of your patrons fill the empty sheets. Mostly drawings of Logan.

“I don’t blame you sweetheart, he’s a dreamboat if I’ve ever seen one.” She sighs dreamily as she looks at him.

“Who is he?”

“Not sure, rolled into town one day. Plenty of rumors, though, say that he was an army guy. Some say that he’s running from the law.” You gasp at the idea.

He couldn’t be a convict could he? You’d never met anyone like that. Though, you feel yourself grow curious instead of fearful. Your whole life you lived in the perfect world. Perfect family with a lot of money and a perfect reputation to uphold. You got the perfect grades, had the perfect friends and still your life felt anything but perfect. You craved something more, needed it. You couldn’t live the rest of your life as someone's housewife. That wasn’t your dream.

“Looks like he needs a refill..” Betty nudges your arm and pushes you forward. You eye the apple pie sitting in the case and steal a slice. No better way to get a man to talk than give him pie right? Clearing your throat you head over and put on a smile.

“Hi Logan.” He looks up from the paper with his usual stony face. A beat passes and he doesn’t speak.

“This is for you, on the house.” You place the pie down in front of him. You shift nervously in your spot as you pour coffee into his cup. He’s never told you his name, does he think you’re a freak or something?

“It’s on your uniform, you know. Your name.” You wince at how horribly awkward this feels. He looks down.

“That supposed to be me?” He grunts out. You tilt your head in confusion before following his gaze. Your guest checks with drawings all over them. Drawings of Logan. You slam your hands down and stuff them in your pocket.

“No! I mean, yes but it’s nothing. Just drawings I. I’m sorry.” Logan just looks at you and you walk off in shame.

Mentally kicking yourself as you sulk back to the kitchen. Betty takes over serving him as you silently wait on the remaining people. By the time your shift is over your back aches and you’re still replaying that moment in your head.

“See you tomorrow Betty!” You say as you put on your coat.

“Hold on dear, this is for you.” She hands you a napkin and winks. Confused, you open it up to see messy handwriting.

Thanks for the pie doll

-Logan

Logan has come by every night since then. Ordering one black coffee and you sneak him whatever pie is left. Sometimes it’s apple, other days it’s pecan. Today’s pie is pumpkin. Just in time for the fall season. He’s still a man of few words but he’s always polite. Pays and says thank you with that handsome voice of his. You’ve gathered some information on him. Mostly from the town gossip.

The group of boys, greasers who would often come by and cause a ruckus, idolized him. He drove a motorcycle, fixed cars, and smoked like there was no tomorrow. In some weird way he’s become their parental figure. Not that he really gave a shit but he worked with them at the shop and he took care of them when he needed to. He strolled in again today. This time he looks at you and throws you a wink. It’s a little routine the two of you have now. Not much talking but it’s nice. You think you’ll be able to get him to open up soon enough.

“Thanks doll.” Logan says as he sits on the worn stool. You hand him his coffee and pie, already prepared just the way he likes it.

“So, do I get to know your last name yet?” He smirks and takes a sip of his coffee.

“How about you fetch me a napkin first. Then I’ll think about it.” You roll your eyes playfully and he smiles. The door jingles and you hear the sound of obnoxious laughing. You look up to see the jerkiest looking boys you’ve ever seen. They wore letterman jackets that seemed too small and talked too loud.

One of the boys, a blonde guy who seemed vaguely familiar whistles at you. You hold back a scoff as you walk over to their table. They’re looking you up and down with a gaze that makes you shiver. Absolute jerks.

“Hey sweetheart, why don’t you be a good girl and get us some milkshakes.” You clench your jaw as you jot down their order.

It dawns on you that you know exactly who that guy is. David Scott. He was in your high school class. Quarterback, the popular guy every girl in school wanted, and the worst human being you’ve ever met. He was nothing but a no good bully. It seems fitting he’s never truly moved on from this town as he was dumber than a bag of rocks. Logan catches your eyes as you head back to the counter. Preparing their order and trying to tune out their annoyingly loud voices. Before you head back with their order you top off Logan’s coffee.

“You know drinking this much caffeine can’t be good for you.” You say.

“And yet you’re still serving me.” He shoots back. You shrug your shoulders and smile, he’s got you there.

“Hey! You done serving grandpa over there.” Logan growls and his grip tightens on his cup.

“Ignore them, they’re nothing but a bunch of idiots.” You say under your breath. You bring the tray of drink over and set them down.

“Anything else?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“Nope.” David whispers something to his friend before moving his hand and spilling his shake all over you and the floor. His friends burst out laughing and you bend down to clean up the mess. Counting down the seconds until they leave. You’re too focused on cleaning to hear David whisper to his friend.

“Watch this.” You hear the stool fall and suddenly you’re pushed to the ground.

“Get off me!” You turn around and see Logan holding David by the collar of his shirt. Teeth bared and a dangerous look in his eyes.

“Logan!” You scramble to your feet as he shoves David into the booth.

“Think you’re funny bub? You’re lucky she’s here or I’d beat you to a pulp.” He growls, eyeing his friends who are now cowering in fear. You stand stunned as Logan seems to command the room.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to scram or I’ll make good on my promise.” He rolls up the sleeves of his jumpsuit and grins. You’ve never seen a group of boys in so much panic.

“And don’t forget to pay.” Logan says with a smirk. They throw down more than enough money and bolt out the door.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” You say softly as Logan seems to calm down.

“Fuckin’ idiots.” He shakes his head and gently pushes you away from the mess.

“Broken glass doll, gotta be careful.” Silently the two of you clean up the mess, him scooping up the glass and you cleaning the table.

You watch carefully as he handles the glass, watching to make sure he doesn’t cut himself. You see a piece of glass slice his hand and you hurry to the back to get a band aid. However when you come back the cut is gone, maybe it was just strawberry? The clock strikes 4am and the new waitress comes through the door, relieving you of your duties. He waits for you to clock out and walks you out the door.

“Thank you again Logan.” He just shrugs and lights a cigarette.

“Let me walk you home.” He offers and you accept. The walk is silent as you head to your home. You eye his cigarette and he notices. He holds it out to you and you take it. Taking a puff and immediately coughing it back up. Logan chuckles as he takes it back.

“Never smoked before?” You shake your head and he just smiles. Figures.

You’re much too sweet to have done anything bad. Just looking at the houses around him he knows that you’re as high society as they come. When you reach your house Logan stands on the sidewalk, watching as you walk up the driveway. You look at your door and then turn around to hurry back to Logan. Leaning in you kiss his cheek and he almost drops his cigarette.

“Bye Logan.” You bite your lip as you slowly walk back. As you walk through the door you hear him call to you.

“Howlett, my last name is Howlett.”

Your sweet night with Logan turned sour the minute you woke up. Your parents were down at the breakfast table. Scowling with disappointed looks on their face. Oh great what else is new.

“You need to quit.” Your dad says and you laugh.

“What?”

“Do you know how embarrassing it is for us to tell people you’re working at a diner? You come home smelling like smoke? It’s insulting the family!” Your mother hisses and you feel tears well up in your eyes. You knew they were cruel but to hear those words from your own mother. It hurt.

“I am an adult, I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

“As long as you’re living here you do. Now go down and tell them or I will.” Your father stands and stares you down. You feel so fucking helpless. It’s true. You’re stuck here and the money you’ve saved up isn’t enough to get out of here just yet.

You storm out of the house, letting the tears fall once you’re out of their view. The walk to the diner is miserable. You don’t want to quit, you like your job. Tears fall as you tell your manager, apologizing and leaving with your tail tucked between your legs. You hated this. You longed to be free and now you’re trapped at home.

Sitting on a bench outside of the diner you let yourself cry. Not wanting your parents to see any sign of weakness from you.

“Hey, everything okay doll?” You look up and see a blurry Logan from your watery eyes. He’s got grease and oil on his face and suit. Wiping his hands with a rag. You shake your head and Logan sits next to you.

“My parents made me quit.” He scoffs in disbelief.

Oh Logan knows all about your father. He wasn’t sure until last night but once he saw your house he knew exactly who your family was. Flaunting their money and status to spit on those lower than them. He serviced your fathers car a few times. Adding pointless upgrades. On the bright side he charges him double and your father doesn’t even bat an eye.

“That’s bullshit.” Logan says angrily. You’ve told him about your life. How disrespectful your parents are. How stupid they can be, anyone should be proud of their daughter getting a degree but they think it’s shameful. You’re smart, pretty, a real perfect girl.

“I don’t know what to do.” You say in such a defeated tone.

“You can always spend time at my work, don’t know if it’s the kind of place you’re used to hanging around but-” He gets cut off as you lunge at him. Hugging him tightly as you seek comfort in his arms. He freezes but slowly places his arms around you. Your perfectly crisp and clean dress was now dirty by his hands but you don’t care.

“I owe you so much Logan, you’ve been a real life saver.” You don’t want to let go. He’s toned, even with the jumpsuit over him. He’s strong and his arms are so warm and welcoming.

“Don’t worry about it doll, can’t stand to see a pretty girl like you so upset.” You lean up and kiss his cheek again. He grins as you scoot closer to him. Suddenly he pushes you back. You’re confused until you see your father pulling up next to the diner. Oh god did he see anything?

“You quit?” He asks, glaring at the dirt on your dress.

“Yes. I quit.” You say unhappily but he doesn’t care. He shifts his eyes to Logan.

“What happened there?” He says accusingly, you know your father wouldn’t hesitate to threaten Logan despite Logan being much stronger. It’s the egotistical nature of him.

“She fell, I caught her.” Logan lies so easily. Your father hums and drops it to your relief.

“I need you to look at my car tomorrow, something’s wrong with the brakes.”

“Got it.” Logan says casually and you can see your father roll his eyes. He drives off leaving the two of you on the bench.

“Say, why don’t you come by with your father tomorrow. I’d be happy to show you a few things” Logan offers, a flirty tone to his voice.

He walks off before you can respond, needing to get back to work. You throw the idea around in your head as you head back home. There’s no denying that Logan is hot. Really hot. He’s everything your parents hate. Lower class, older, doesn’t care about their status. It would drive them insane if you started to hang around a guy like him.

Though you don’t want to just use him to get back at your parents. You really do like him. It’s a win win in your head. Smiling to yourself you already start to pick out your outfit for tomorrow.

Ready to cause a little chaos.

Your father didn’t understand why you wanted to come with him but you gave him so stupid excuse and he bought it. Your father pulled the car in and threw the keys at Logan. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but Logan does it for you. Despite Logan being much more knowledgeable about cars, your father still talks down to him. It’s rude and classist and you hate it.

“I’d like to stay, you know, make sure nothing goes wrong.” Your father scoffs but leaves you be.

“He’s real lucky I don’t punch his lights out.” Logan mutters as he pops the hood of his car.

“I’m really sorry, you don’t deserve that.” Logan shrugs. He’s used to it by this point.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about me.” He leans over and kisses your cheek.

He wipes off a seat for you to sit on and you watch him work. There’s something about the way he moves that’s just…attractive. His muscles strain in his jumpsuit, sweat drips down his face. And the noises, god the noises. The grunts when he moves something heavy. Then he does the unthinkable. He unzips his jumpsuit, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. Leaving him in just a white tank top.

Now you really have a show. You don’t know how much time has passed and you don’t care. Slowly the garage empties as people head to lunch until it’s just you and Logan. Logan can feel your eyes on him. In fact he loves it. Your cute face is staring at him like a piece of meat. He can see you shift on the leather stool. He can smell how bad you want him. It’s desperate, almost pathetic how badly you want him. He stands up, making sure to flex his arms as he sets down the wrench.

“You alright doll, you look a little hot?” Logan feigns concern as he steps closer to you. Placing his hands on the workshop table. Caging you in.

“I’m okay.” You eye his chest shamelessly, eyes traveling down to the bulge in his suit.

“Yeah? I don’t know…” He slowly takes your sweater off. Leaving your arms bare and your cleavage on show for him.

“I’m not sweet doll, not gonna treat you like a good girl.” He growls in your ear and you whimper. Oh you need him bad.

“I’ll break a sweet thing like you, but something tells me you want that.” You grab his face and smash your lips to his. It’s messy and dirty, teeth knocking against each other as you fight for dominance. Logan slips his hands under your dress, lifting you up to the workbench and stepping in between your legs. Your hands are locked in his hair. Tugging hard as he deepens the kiss. He groans into your mouth. His hands rip your dress at the top. You gasp as his lips trail down your neck leaving sloppy wet kisses until he reaches your boobs.

“Fuck.” He squeezes your chest roughly, purring at the feeling of them in his hands.

“So cute.” He says with a wink as he leans down and bites your nipples roughly. He promised he wouldn’t be nice and he meant it. He shamelessly grinds his bulge against your wet panties.

“Dirty girl, letting a no good mechanic touch you like this. What would your daddy say hm?” He taunts as his hands move to slip up your dress. Pulling your panties down and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Who fucking cares?” You spit out as you grind your hips. Soaking his suit with how wet he’s made you.

“Oh, pretty girls got a mouth on her.”

“Just hurry up!” You whine as you slip your hands under his tank top.

Lifting it over his head so you could get the view of his muscular body. He unties his jumpsuit and yanks it down, letting his hard cock free. To your surprise he picks you up and brings you to your dads car.

“Turn around.” He lifts your dress up and bends you over the hood of the car. His hands run across your ass, squeezing and admiring the view as he slowly grinds his cock along it. The tip of his dick slides in and you moan.

“Yeah, feels good doesn’t it doll.” He says cockily as he renders you utterly speechless.

The stretch is unbelievably amazing as he bottoms out. You whine as you feel every vein, every twitch of his cock inside of you. He’s so big. Everything about him is big. His presence, his arms, his cock. He was just big. He barely gives you anytime to adjust before fucking hard into you. Your hands claw for anything to hold onto. The hood of the car is too slippery so Logan just pins your arms behind your back instead.

“Naughty, naughty girl.” Logan huffs as he leans down to bite your ear. His pace is relentless. Pounding the words right out of you.

“Letting me fuck you on your daddies car.” He puff his chest out proudly. He’s tearing you apart on your asshole fathers car. Making you moan his name as he desecrates his car.

“Feels so good Logan. Oh god!” His cock hitting that perfect spot in you every time. Over and over. It’s unrelenting. You involuntarily shift your hips. The pleasure becomes overwhelming.

“Where are you going doll? I’m not done with you yet.” He lets go of your hands and grabs your hips, pulling you back on his cock with a bruising grip.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You beg wildly as you move your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Not planning on it.” He tilts his head back in pleasure as he pounds into you. He feels you clenching tightly around him. Your legs are quivering under him. There’s grease smudged all over your body, your face.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the windshield. You’re completely disheveled, hair a mess. Makeup smeared and clothes torn. You look absolutely filthy and you love it. You can see Logan’s abs flexing as he thrusts his hips. His hands run up your sides. Taking you by the shoulders to slam you back on his cock. A weak cry leaves your throat with every thrust. Finally you break. A desperate, strangled moan as your body quakes. Shaking and rocking you right to your core.

“That’s it doll, I’ve got you.” He leans down and nudges his nose into your neck. Kissing softly as his thrusts slow just for a moment. Letting you breathe. You’ve never felt more happy in your life.

Logan kisses the side of your head as his hips grow sloppy. Chasing his release and savoring the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him. With a loud groan he pulls out and finishes on your ass. Your eyes close as your body feels like it's melting. You can barely stand. Logan wipes you down with a clean rag, loving how fucked you appear to be.

“I got you.” He gently picks you up and brings you to a bench. Laying his clean jacket over you as you will your legs to stop shaking.

“You alright?” He’s got a devilish grin on his face as he redresses himself. Somehow it’s like he’s back to normal while you’re wrecked.

“Perfect, oh my god you’re amazing.” You lean back into the bench and sigh happily.

“What the hell is going on here?!” You shoot up and see your father storming towards you angrily. You’re a mess and you don’t think Logan can lie his way out of this one. He’s angry. Really angry.

“You are nothing but a disappointment and you have been ever since you were born! A disgrace to the whole family! To the town! Doing such horrible things with the likes of him.” He snarls as he points at Logan. You’re stunned into silence.

“I have the right mind to never let you out of the house again you ungrateful little-”

Logan steps in front of him and he tries to hit Logan right in the face but fails miserably. You gasp as Logan pushes him against his car. You watch as boney claws shoot from his hands. Your father squirms in fear as the tips of his sharp claws grow closer to his neck.

“Shut the fuck up.” Logan growls.

“You’re a real fucking dick and a sorry excuse for a father. If I ever see you come near her again I’ll fucking kill you.” He lets go of your father and watches as he runs away. Yelling about mutant freaks. Logan turns back to you, a cold look settling on his face when he sees your face. Now you know his secret.

“You’re a mutant.” You say in awe. To his shock you reach out for him instead of running away.

“I am.” You admire the claws, how amazing.

“Beautiful.” His mouth gapes open as you pull him closer.

For once someone is looking at him like he’s normal, like he’s not a freak of nature. He longs for this but he knows your dad won’t go down quietly. He’ll tell the whole town.

“Look doll, you’re too good for this town. You’re too good for me.” He brushes your cheek softly.

“I can’t stay here anymore and you need to go home. Pretend you never met me. You’re a smart girl and you have a bright future ahead of you.” Logan takes his hand away and walks away.

“Logan!” You throw off his jacket, you're limping slightly but you refuse to let him go. He’s quick on his feet, already shedding his work clothes for his normal ones. A leather jacket thrown over his tank top. His motorcycle is out back. He’s got a backpack already packed and ready to go. Like he was waiting for this moment to happen.

“Take me with you!” You stand in front of his bike.

“What?” He asks in disbelief.

“Please, I hate this town. I have money saved. I can help but please don’t leave me.” You move closer to him, taking his hand in yours.

“I can’t live like this anymore, Logan. I’d give it all up to be with you”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s not your choice. It’s mine so please, take me with you.” He wants to say no. To leave you here. It would break your heart and his but it’s what's best. But a part of him wants to be selfish. He could protect you, he could take care of you. But he fears you’d regret it eventually.

He’s overthinking and you can tell. You grab his jacket and kiss him gently. He groans as he slips his arms around you.

“Please.” You beg softly.

“I can’t promise you the life you’re used to.” He warns but his resolve is slipping.

“I don’t care.” He sighs and kisses you again. It’s becoming addicting. You’re completely addicting.

“Hop on doll,” He throws his leg over the bike and waits.

You waste no time jumping on behind him. Wrapping your arms around his waist as he revs his motorcycle. You lean into him and smile. He stops so you could say goodbye to Betty and grab a bag of clothes. He waited at the door, a grin on his face as his claws were proudly shown off to your parents.

Then he drives. Away from your horrible family and the horrible town. Your future is uncertain but with Logan, you’re confident things will work out.

He’s all you need.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut

331 notes · View notes

soobnny · 5 months ago

Text

dating him | lee know

❝ come over, the cats miss you ❞

if he wasn’t a menace before (impossible btw), he sure as hell is now

this man is relentless

teasing as his love language

just loves riling you up bc he thinks ur reactions are so cute

and he smirks a lot too

if he wasn’t so damn attractive, u would’ve wiped that smirk off his face !!!!!

“wait min, i got a text”

“nice to know you have friends”

u hate him 😭😭😭😭😭

he’s such a little shit that he’s even rilling u up during ur dates

laser tag games where he kisses you to distract you before taking you out

HE’S SO MEAN

he’d push you against the wall with a sly smirk and you think you won’t fall for it again, but you do

every single time

u should’ve known better

this is lee “resident cheater in all possible games” minho

anyways

he is also an ass lover ❤️❤️❤️

i��m sorry but u cannot go into a relationship with him without expecting him to always have his hand on ur ass in some way

so in short

the trope is giving u thought he was out of ur league but he’s actually a weirdo

so now u’re dating the Weird Kid

(u wouldn’t want it any other way)

his other love language is acts of service

i said in my chan one that minho also gives Chief Hong from hometown cha3

like tell me i’m wrong

man wife #2

he is ur personal handyman

he’s just good at everything

will most probably only do it for u tho

seungmin: hyung can u fix my sink

minho: no

seungmin catching strays 😂😂

you: babe—

minho: what do you need me to do now

he says it in fake annoyance too

but he’s got his tools in his hand already ready to do whatever u want

obsessed i tell u

he drives u around too

if you have an event, a party, a project, anywhere you need to be

he’ll drive u there

he always makes time

AND he picks you up too like shut up

it could be a party that finishes at 2am and he’s just waiting for your call to pick you up

sometimes, you tell him he can just sleep early bc your friend will give you a ride home

when you get home, look … he’s still awake

he’s been waiting for you to come home this whole time to make sure you’re safe

BUT he doesn’t say anything

the moment he sees you’re alive and breathing (and doesn’t need taking care of), he’s on his way to the bedroom to sleep

when u look around, he’s done the chores already

he just does things to lessen the load that u might have u know

if u’re so stressed with anything, he’d silently clean up ur room or bring u food

so u don’t have to think about that anymore

also the best chef in town btw

he likes cooking together

and by cooking together i mean like he does all the work and u just stay there and keep him company

he can’t risk ur clumsy ass injuring urself

comforts u thru his cooking too

would baby u and feed u when u’re sad

his favorite dates with u are quiet, homemade dinners

just likes being with u and u only

away from everyone else

as niki would say, i don’t like anyone except sometimes you

it’s in moments like those that he just unwinds and shows u his softer sides

he’s honestly just so gentle and soft

he looks at u with stars in his eyes

ugh such an attentive listener too

sometimes u think he isn’t listening, but he’s got it all memorized

“yeah u mentioned it on our date 3 months ago”

like damn

anyways, moving on

his pet names for u give olden times

honey, darling, jagi

but also loser, idiot, stupid girl (endearingly)

so u two are giving me old married couple

u’d both wake up early and have coffee or tea together and just talk abt anything

also this is far into the future but like

sneak peek at minho as ur husband

i think u two would be the type to have a garden

like gardening would be ur little hobby

he grows fruits and vegetables

u beg to grow flowers

OK BACK TO BOYFRIEND MINHO

randomly sending selfies thru the day

THOSE selfies

u know what i’m talking abt

forces u to send selfies back

(ur photos are all saved and hidden in his phone but he will never tell u that)

oh u’ve also become his cats’ mom btw

one of ur favorite errands to do is going grocery shopping for his cats

u’d always end up buying them a gift

“u’re the reason my cats are spoiled”

SUUUUUUURE minho suuuuuuure

cat fashion shows

like dress to IMPRESS

(btw idk why but i feel like u could force him to play roblox with u)

he also uses his cats to lure u to visit him btw

“soonie misses u, u’re being a bad mother”

it’s just him who misses u let’s be real

and if ur favorite thing to do with him is cat shopping, his is walking by the han river with you

he loves walking

esp when it’s with you

just a peaceful walk tbh like yall don’t even have to say anything

tho sometimes when he’s feeling playful, he’d suddenly play tag with you

ends with both of u just sitting by the river and looking at the lights and the stars and holding hands or maybe ur head on his shoulder

damn wish that were me fr

when u go home, u watch some variant of a trashy reality tv show together

u’ve basically seen it all

but if anyone were to ask u what happened in those shows, yall wouldn’t know

u two were too busy just making out instead of paying attention

or falling asleep

old married couple i’m telling u

expect to also be dragged into his camping

when he has particularly long days off, he’d propose going camping together

ah, the beauty of warm bonfires and quiet conversations

he’d take good care of you the whole time

like yessss do your job as a man and fix up this entire camping site

and he does

tho, aside from camping, he’d also suggest hiking to take in the view of the mountains and the pretty sky

u’d wake up early on both occasions just to watch the sun rise

in contrast to these very productive activities, sometimes minho also just loves lazy sundays where you just cuddle for the entirety of the day

what more could he want

u and his cats with him

that’s honestly just the dream

good luck cat mom

have fun acting like an old married couple with lee know

he is the dream man

nonchalant to anyone else except u

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

997 notes · View notes

deunmiu-dessie · 6 months ago

Text

ⅹ▬ ⁽ 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓃 ⁾ ¹

part two

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₁₀˖₆ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : slightly edited, talk of death, suicidal thoughts (??) ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : i had to split this into two parts since the entire one-shot might be at least 20k words long. there is no smut in this but in order to understand the second part i'll be writing, you'll need to read this! also, if you've read my demon one-shot, there's a little hint at these worlds colliding, let me know if you find where that is 😌

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎ : you, the princess of the jade empire, are on the run from your tyrannical uncle who is hell-bent on taking the throne for himself. following the death of your family members, you stand as the sole surviving royal descendant. as the unforgiving winter of the north looms closer and you find yourself without shelter, your desire for vengeance is set aside. stranded in a dark cavern, you struggle to stay alive and search for sustenance. but as you delve deeper into the cave, you unknowingly awaken a sinister creature lurking in the shadows, waiting to consume you whole.

꒰m!dragon ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

“ℳ y lady, you must go now!”

What had your world come to? And why now?

You stand there, overwhelmed and devastated as Eunice, your personal maid, thrusts a satchel into your quivering, awaiting hands, her eyes of umber brown are widened and her lips quiver with dread— she was terrified, and rightfully so. She was soon to meet her end, and yet she was accepting it with ease, so much so that it made your heart thump painfully within your ribcage.

Eunice was an older woman with greying, thick brown hair that usually framed her heart-shaped face perfectly, but it was now strewn about aimlessly at the top of her head in the midst of utter chaos. Her eyes were the faultless color of brown which held just the tiniest specks of hazel. Within the depths of those chocolate pools, a previously unseen emotion emerges, leaving your hands sweaty and your face pale.

You shake your head softly at her command, clutching her wrist within your clammy hands, pulling her along with you. "Come, come with me, Eunice, let us flee together!" you beg frantically, tears streaming down your face in heavy rivulets, your mind throbbing with an impending migraine. Your watery, scared eyes make Eunice’s stomach twist torturously— she who had taken care of you since you were a child, could only force a wobbly smile.

Eunice's heart trembles with fear at the thought of her death. The mere concept of dying was a chilling specter that haunted her every waking moment. No one willingly wished to die. However, when it came to you, the child she had considered her own? Eunice would willingly embrace death a thousand times over if she had to.

She couldn't bear to watch you die, not like this, especially when there was still a chance for you to live, to experience the pleasures of life, and perhaps even create a family of your own one day.

With her resolve solidified, the woman firmly withdraws her arm from your grasp and gently pushes against your shoulders. “I cannot. I will stay, buy you time,” she whispers. The distant echoes of battle cries resonate in the distance, and Eunice swiftly guides you toward the concealed passage nestled within your chamber.

"This path shall guide you to Thaos Village within three sunsets. It is my hometown, seek out Geoffrey Jill. Remember My Lady, be smart, be alert. Do not trust anyone, the Kingdom is your enemy.” Her voice trembles, yet even amidst this harrowing ordeal, she maintains her composure, selflessly offering herself as a sacrifice.

You’d always been a stubborn child, Eunice used to playfully say that you got it from your Father. He was a formidable figure, unwavering in his decisions, and she saw that same strength in you as a child.

With glazed eyes, you looked on to Eunice with persistence. Your hands twitching at your sides to grasp at her frayed garments, wanting to tug on them with earnestness, a commemoration to the youth you once were.

However, she couldn't help but wonder if she had been too sharp with you during your moments of defiance. Perhaps if she had indulged your rebellious spirit, you would've dragged her along to escape rather than sit arguing with her about it. This notion evoked a sense of self-centeredness within Eunice, as she contemplated her yearning for survival. The longing for life above all else was an inherent trait in human beings after all.

Her throat constricts as you swallow thickly, your head nodding with a heavy reluctance. Drawing Eunice closer, you envelop her in your arms, feeling the weight of her absence already settling in your chest. “I will miss you dearly,” you whisper, your heart skipping a beat before throbbing painfully against your breast. Her delicate arms wrap around your waist, her tear-stained face seeking solace in the curve of your neck; and her tears searing into your flesh, eternally marking you. "And I, my lady, shall forever carry your memory."

With a heavy heart, she lets out a hiccuping sob, it’s heavy and distraught– painful. Before abruptly pushing you into the dark passage. With a haunting intensity, she leans against the door, sealing you in. "Now go, My Lady. We shall meet again." Eunice grins, it's etched with weathered smile lines and a small dimple that imprints on the bottom left corner of her mouth, and it's gut-wrenching to see it as her final farewell to you.

The weighty door crashes closed, its resounding echo reverberating through the air causing you to crumple onto the stony floor, tears muddying your sight and sobs wracking your body. The satchel she has given you feels leaden in your grip, its contents unknown but undoubtedly important for your survival outside the unfamiliar palace wall.

Before you can gather yourself from your hunched position, you startle at a dull sound of noise beyond the thick passage wall. While your lips tremble with trepidation, you gently lean your ear against the door, desperately yearning to catch even the faintest whisper. And there it is, piercing through the thick barrier of the passage door - the deep resonance of your Uncle's voice, reverberating in your mind like a haunting wail.

The tempest raging inside you teeters on the edge of an eruption, stoked by the ghostly memories of a man who once held a special place in your heart, a man you revered and faithfully trailed. But now, he’s the man who mercilessly slaughtered your entire family, driven by his insatiable thirst for power and a birthright that rightfully belonged to another.

However, his unappeasable greed eventually caused him to become careless, and amidst the bloodbath of your twentieth name-day, Eunice found an opportunity to aid in your escape. Yet, in just a few hours, your Uncle and his soldiers managed to infiltrate your section of the palace. Eunice, informed by the guards posted near your quarters, unveiled a hidden passage to you in a last-ditch effort. Your world had crumbled in a matter of moments.

“Do not feign ignorance in my presence, woman. My niece, where has she gone?”

You find yourself drawn back into the moment, where Eunice's unwavering silence lingers in the air. A sense of unease mixed with anticipation twists in your stomach. In an instant, a sharp sound echoes through the room, accompanied by Eunice's anguished wail. Overwhelmed, you reflexively muffle your gasp with a quivering hand, hot tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“I will ask you once more–” His words are abruptly halted and a hush descends upon the room as if time itself has frozen. In the stillness, the piercing sound of a blade being unsheathed pierces the air, followed by the steady voice of Eunice, filled with unwavering resolve. “Go to hell.” These are the last words that reach your ears before a sickening thud echoes— signifying her gruesome decapitation.

The acrid bitterness of bile scorches your throat, causing your eyebrows to furrow as you suppress the urge to retch. Tears well up in your eyes, stinging like venomous drops. With a burdened soul, you inhale shallow breaths, feeling your heart pound relentlessly within your chest. Rising unsteadily, you clutch the satchel tightly to your breast, all while his voice booms out furiously, demanding, "Find her! Now!"

Hobbling along the path, you descend into the darkness of the passage, your thoughts consumed by Eunice and the peril that awaited you beyond the safety of the palace walls. Outside the Palace, the Kingdom was a relatively foreign land to you; your parents had taken great pains to shelter you and your siblings from the outside world.

As the eldest child, you had always harbored suspicions, for as the future ruler, it was your duty to be well-versed in the inner workings of the Jade Kingdom. But you dared not challenge their authority; after all, they were your parents. All they wanted to do was protect you. Right?

But now, as you make your way through the dark and winding passage, you can't help but feel a sense of unease creeping over you. Eunice's cryptic message left you with more questions than answers, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister was at play in the Kingdom. Your parent's secrets could now cost you your life, all because you didn't know what to expect from journeying outside.

Shaking your head, you realize it was not the time to cast blame upon the dead; you needed to clear your mind and concentrate.

The hidden passage leads you through a labyrinth of tunnels, its walls damp and cold. The atmosphere hung heavy with the pungent aroma of soil and mildew, suffocating your every breath. But you press on, driven by the urgency of the situation and the haunting image of Eunice's selfless act.

As you meander through the never-ending hallway, time dissolves into obscurity, lost in the depths of darkness. But then, a delicate fragrance of flowers wafts through the air, piercing the stagnant atmosphere. The scent dances around you, a fleeting moment of clarity amidst the chaos.

In this desolate and forsaken corridor, it becomes your lifeline, a glimmer of hope in the face of despair. It whispers sweet promises of safety and freedom, offering a respite from the relentless onslaught of confusion and fear. With each breath, the aroma seeps into your very being, until finally, you stumble upon a door.

Emerging from the underground maze, you find yourself in a desolate courtyard garden, surrounded by towering walls that seem to close in on you. The sounds of battle echo through the air, growing louder and more menacing with each passing moment.

The relentless ticking of time pushes you to move quickly, and with a sense of dread, you scuttle towards a weathered wooden door seamlessly melded into the formidable barrier, shrouding yourself beneath the protective embrace of your hood.

You steal a final look at your home, a shiver running down your spine as it’s consumed by flames. The echoes of joy and warmth that once filled the walls now fade into the crackling of fire and the scent of smoke. The devastation grips your heart, the realization sinking in that the haven you cherished is now a haunting relic of the past. The charred remains stand as a grim reminder of what once was, a place now lost to the merciless fire. A place that was no longer.

Time seems to slip through your fingers like sand as you wander along the road. Your footsteps have carried you through its endless expanse, and though it seems like an eternity since you’ve started, it might have merely been a few fleeting hours. You can still see the billowing smoke of your home lingering on the horizon, the ghostly remnants of your past life looming behind you, a chilling reminder of what once was and can never be again.

The cold breeze nips at your fingertips and cheeks, attempting to penetrate the layers of your clothing and suffocate you in its icy embrace. With rapid, heated breaths, you valiantly defy its persistent advances, feeling your bones shiver beneath your flesh as you fight to retain warmth.

As the sun starts its slow descent, your nerves start to unravel, the fleeting warmth it provides fading away within the hour. The thought of navigating these paths in the dark filled you with unease, unsure of what creatures may be hiding in the shadows of the woods.

The sun's radiant beams gradually retreat, stretching out elongated shadows over the terrain, and a feeling of unease starts to crawl up your spine. The once comforting warmth that the sun had bestowed upon you throughout the day now dissipates, leaving behind a chilling gust of northern winds.

As the sky transforms into a canvas of dusky hues, the once vibrant landscape takes on an eerie stillness. The chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves are replaced by an unsettling silence, broken only by the distant hoot of an owl or the haunting howl of a lone wolf. The encroaching darkness seems to awaken fears that lay dormant within the depths of your mind.

The road ahead appeared to stretch endlessly, its twists and turns becoming more disorienting with each passing moment. The gnarled branches of the trees reached out like skeletal fingers, casting eerie silhouettes against the sky. The once ‘familiar’ surroundings now come off as distorted and unfamiliar, as if the very essence of the oncoming night had transformed them into something otherworldly.

And though part of you wanted to keep moving, to get as far away as you could, this was not the time to be negligent and risk losing your way or, even worse, losing your life. Not when the fate of the Kingdom rested on your shoulders. Sighing shakily, you deviate off the trail and make your way into the woods, seeking refuge amidst a gathering of trees and vegetation.

The frigid ground greets you with a harsh embrace as you sit down, the cold seeping through your clothes and freezing your body further. Sorting through the hefty satchel, a rush of emotions overwhelms you when you uncover a soft wool covering, a beloved reminder of days when you were younger. As you unfurl the blanket, you lay down, finding yourself nestled on the forest ground, tucking the satchel beneath your head for a bit of comfort, and wrapping yourself up tightly to ward off the chill.

The hushed rustling of foliage and the indelible chirping of crickets lull you into a state of eerie wakefulness. The fast-fading light seeps through the dense leaves above, casting an unnerving ray over the forest. The fragrance of pine and soil permeates your nose, pacifying your thoughts if only for a moment.

However, the life of the woodland is shattered by the haunting echo of horses in the distance, the flora and fauna within the forest coming to a bone-chilling standstill. Every breath you take feels like a desperate struggle, as if the air itself is suffocating you. The trees seem to whisper warnings to each other, their leaves rustling in fear for you.

You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, a primal instinct urging you to flee from whatever unseen danger lurks in the darkness, but you’re rooted to the spot, unable to move as the ghostly hooves draw nearer. With a sense of anticipation, you sink further into the smothering embrace of the thick foliage, clutching your quivering legs tightly to your shivering body.

“She couldn't have gotten far while on foot! Spread out and find her!”

Shivers skitter down your back, it was Dominic, your Uncle’s son. The echo of his once comforting voice sends tremors down your spine, a startling reminder of the past. Who could have imagined he would also be involved in the massacre of your family? The very cousin who playfully showed you how to handle a sword, how to scale trees, and capture frogs. The very cousin who had once held a special place in your heart, akin to that of a beloved brother.

You couldn't help but wonder what had led him and his father down this path of destruction. What demons had possessed them to betray their own family, to turn against those who had loved and cared for them? The questions swirled in your mind, but the answers remained elusive.

The thundering hooves fade into the night, causing you to release a trembling sigh, yet you freeze at the eerie sound of a horse's whinny. “I know you're there, cousin. Your tracks have betrayed you." You stay quiet, wondering if he is testing to see if you will flee, to confirm your presence. The echo of his words fills the night air with a chilling sense of pain, it's sorrowful, and desolate as he utters again.

“Make sure that your tracks are well-hidden and keep off the main roads. It would be wise to depart the Kingdom immediately, go as far as you must, until nay even whispers of the King's death are uttered. My father, he will never stop, he will hunt you down relentlessly, until he claims your head, cousin."

Tears well up in your eyes, causing a sharp sting as you blink them back, your stomach knotting with anxiety– perhaps he did know you were here. “Be smart, trust no one, for even the most innocent faces may hide ulterior motives. Stay one step ahead. You must survive if you want revenge for Unc— the King, Queen, and Royal Highnesses.”

He falls into a chilling silence, and for a fleeting moment, you swear you hear a faint sniffle. "I never wished for any of this, trust me," he whispers. And then he’s galloping away, further and further until you hear him no more. As his presence dissipates, you finally let yourself weep with sobs that darken your vision, and tears that turn frigid upon meeting your cheeks.

The weight of his words lingers in the air, haunting you as you lay alone in the darkness. The truth of his revelation slices through you, sharp as a blade, leaving you adrift and lost. You try to make sense of it all, but the pieces of the puzzle refuse to fit together.

You try to shake off the feeling of despair that threatens to consume you, but it clings to you like a shadow.

Reflecting on the events that led you to this wretched state, a myriad of questions plague your mind. How did the path you once tread, filled with hope and promise, veer so drastically off course? What unseen forces conspired to orchestrate this cruel twist of fate, leaving you stranded in a world of darkness and unfamiliarity? You wonder how such a sinister fate befell you. Your mind whirls in a frenzy, grappling with these haunting questions until exhaustion finally claims you, dragging you into a restless slumber tormented by blood-curdling visions.

As the night drags on, sleep remains elusive, antagonizing you with its restless grip. It's not until the first light of dawn filters through the twisted branches above that your mind finally succumbs to sleep, allowing you a fleeting moment of respite.

As you embrace the peaceful caress of sleep, a faint sense of consciousness lingers. The real world has its challenges and griefs, however, they seem almost insignificant when compared to the terrors that haunt your dreams.

If asked to choose between facing the bitterness of reality or the torment of your nightmares; you'd rather brave the acrimony of the real world over the haunting dreams of days long gone.

It’s when the sun reaches high in the sky that you rouse from your unfulfilling nap. But as you pry your eyes open, which are almost sealed by the bone-chilling cold of the North, you are welcomed not by the sight of frost-laden greenery or the towering yellow Cyprus tree that stood tall yesterday.

Instead, a face is peering down at you. A countenance that has only existed within the pages of books and tales of caution.

It’s a Romog, a magical beast similar to dogs yet towering in size like battle wolves. From what you've read, Romog's are renowned for their savagery, and their prowess in combat. Their hide and sinew possess an almost outlandish thickness and strength, rendering them almost impossible to kill. Even the most seasoned of knights have stumbled in their endeavors to hunt these formidable creatures.

And since Romog's are known for their exceptional tracking abilities, enforce wizards often form magical pacts with them to harness their talent. Their keen sense of smell and knack for locating elusive targets made them indispensable companions in the realm of magic. However, as it perched on your legs, its tongue lolling and panting deeply, you couldn't help but ponder why it had not yet chosen to devour you. ( You also guessed that your lack of chill throughout the early morning was thanks to the mutt. )

Why was it here?

Your breath hitches in your throat and you swallow thickly, a tremor dancing down your backbone. The Romog's cranium tilts to one side, its gaze overflowing with unsettling fascination before it inclines closer, its sleek tongue sinuously gliding forth to caress your cheek, the coarse texture catching at your skin.

“Ugh! Disgusting!”

You swiftly wipe away the wet warmth from your cheek, your upper lip curling with revulsion. The Romog, looking innocent, emits a low growl before clambering off of you, its tail wagging frantically. You observe its every movement cautiously, yet you find a morsel of comfort as it nudges you with its massive snout, darting away to perform a playful bow before dashing toward you for another gentle nudge.

Fear dissipates in an instant, causing you to release a soft chuckle. It's evident that this Romog hadn't yet reached adulthood. Rising to your feet, you retrieve your blanket, which now feels like a thick slab of ice, and proceed to fold it as neatly as possible before tucking it away in your satchel. Throughout this process, the Romog playfully nudges your back, emitting playful yips to further lighten the atmosphere.

Hefting the bag over your shoulder, your gaze falls to the Romog beside you. Its eyes are wide and almost pleading, and suddenly, a soft gurgle fills the air. It must be hungry – you couldn't remember if Eunice had packed you any food, but it wouldn't hurt to take a look.

Nonchalantly discarding the satchel, you allow it to descend with a weighty thump upon the earth. You gracefully lower yourself onto one knee, slowly loosening the drawstrings. The Romog creeps nearer, its snout descending to delve into the contents of your exposed bag. With lips slightly pursed, you delicately nudge it aside, engaging in a steadfast gaze with the creature. “You must wait, I'm trying to find you something.”

The creature emits a soft chuff. With an air of nonchalance, it raises a front leg and stretches its neck to noisily lick at its paw. You can't help but roll your eyes at the creature's audacious demeanor. Determined to find something worthwhile, you plunge your hand into the bag, rummaging aimlessly and extracting various objects, only to discard them back into the satchel as you realize their inedibility.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you find yourself in possession of a sizable portion of compacted ivory bread, its texture cold and unyielding, as if it had been shaped by the frigid gusts of the northern winds. The Romog stirs with interest at the scent of the doughy morsel, edging nearer until it is practically nestled in your lap. Its gaze meets yours, a silent exchange passing between you, without hesitation, you rend the loaf apart and fling it away into the forest.

The beast swiftly gives chase, its insatiable appetite driving it forward. Its viscous drool, warm and thick, tenderizes the bread, rendering it more palatable. With a gentle smile, you deftly rearrange the items within your bag, securing them in their rightful places before sealing it shut. Rising to your feet, you hoist the satchel onto your shoulder once again, ready to continue your journey.

The time of day still lingered in the early hours, urging you to press forward and cover as much ground as possible. If Eunice's information proved accurate, you would reach Thaos Village within at least three days' time. Thaos Village, as the tales tell, revered the water Goddess Euna, it was a relatively peaceful place where mages often resided before embarking on their journeys or seeking wisdom at the renowned arcane institution. It was also the birthplace of Eunice and the man you’d be meeting in only a short while.

As you gaze upon the Romog, its sharp teeth tearing into the meager offering of bread, a shiver runs down your spine, that could've been you under different circumstances. With a forced smile, you hasten your steps out of the eerie forest, eager to escape the looming darkness that surrounded you even in the morning light. Making your way back onto the trail to continue your journey to what you were hoping was safety.

The frigid morning breeze froze your face, your nostrils growing numb and your mouth parched from the icy assault. Merely moments into your stroll, your ears seemed on the verge of detachment. To safeguard the remnants of your inner heat, you raise your hood and plunge your hands into the recesses of your cloak, huddling your form in an attempt to repel the gusts of the wind. The fabric provided a small barrier against the frigid wind, but it was not enough to fully protect you.

The frosty air clung to your skin, leaving a tingling sensation that bordered on pain. Each breath you took felt like shards of ice piercing your lungs, causing you to exhale in short, shallow bursts. The trees stood tall and bare, their branches coated in a layer of frost that glistened in the weak morning light.

With each step, you could feel the chill seeping deeper into your bones. Your muscles tensed, your movements becoming slower and more deliberate. The cold seemed to sap your energy, leaving you feeling sluggish and drained.

The sun's feeble attempt to break through the thick layer of clouds was met with resistance, as if the heavens themselves were conspiring to keep the landscape below in a perpetual state of desolation. Its golden beams, though they managed to pierce through the gloom, seemed almost mocking in their presence. They danced upon the barren earth, casting long, eerie shadows that stretched across the desolate terrain, and illuminated the cracked and parched ground.

As if the sun's futile efforts were not enough, a biting wind swept through the air once more. It howled through the skeletal remains of trees, their branches stripped of leaves and their insides hollowed out.

‘snap’

Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat when you jump, swiftly turning to locate the source of the noise. It was only the Romog from earlier, its mouth still coated in breadcrumbs. You purse your lips, fully turning to confront it, cocking your hip to the side, and crossing your arms over your chest.

“I cannot give you anything more. I also need to eat, beast.”

At your acknowledgment, the creature hastens forth to halt before you, perhaps taking your response as a cue to accompany you. Its frigid, damp snout presses against your abdomen, urging you onward to proceed. You delicately push it aside, your hands now finding solace upon your hips. “You mustn't follow me. Now go, I can do nothing more for you.”

This time it hearkens, descending into a seated posture and whimpering, its grand cranium inclining to the side. You affirm, content with your actions. "Well done, farewell beast.”

Twisting on your heels, you press forward along the trail, tucking your hands into your pockets once again to restore warmth. As you journey for a few more moments, the Romog's heavy, wheezing breaths fade away, which are loud even amidst the piercing gusts of wind.

You were alone now, it was something you would have to get used to.

Moreover, if what you read was true, untamed Romog's were labeled as ‘kill on sight’ in numerous regions. The creature would draw too much attention to you, and you couldn't bear to see it die.

You've witnessed an excess of death in a brief span and the thought of being responsible for yet another one weighed heavily on your conscience. You knew that if you were to survive in this harsh and unforgiving world, you would need to adapt quickly and make tough decisions.

You would brave this journey on your own.

Or so you thought. The Romog continued to follow you.

Concealing itself amidst the foliage each time you glanced over your shoulder, its mighty tail protruding from a tree and rhythmically thudding, inadvertently revealing its presence. Hiding itself within shrubs, but its snout, long and thick, would stick out, giving it away. Vanishing into the encompassing woodland, yet its profound, labored breaths would once more, accidentally expose its existence.

What did it want?

Halting abruptly, you inhale deeply, the frigid air chilling your lungs as you pivot swiftly, the Romog attempting to scuttle into the forest to evade your scrutiny. "Come out!" A brief silence ensues, save for the monotonous symphony of howling winds and rustling foliage atop the towering trees. The Romog emerges from its hiding spot, albeit reluctantly. Its head hangs low, ears plastered against its skull, and tail firmly ensconced between its hind legs.

Its eyes, once filled with mischief and childish curiosity, now reflect an uncertainty. You take a press forward, your presence commanding and unwavering. The Romog takes a hesitant step back, its paws sinking into the soft forest floor.

"I will tell you once more. You mustn't follow me! ‘Tis dangerous, for me and for you. Do you understand?" For a moment, you forget that you're talking to a beast and not a human, it probably didn't understand a word that you were saying. This realization causes a frown to crease your lips, your eyebrows knitting together sharply.

As you once more assert your desire for the creature to leave, it cowers slightly, its large, sorrowful eyes gazing up at you with confusion and longing. Its body, covered in sleek, dark fur, bristles in response to your rejection. Yet, despite your firm words, it remains steadfast.

With a heavy sigh, you realize that the creature has attached itself to you for reasons beyond your comprehension. Its unwavering resolution tugs at your heartstrings, even as you try to distance yourself from it. Perhaps it senses something in you, a connection that you are yet to understand. Is what you try to convince yourself, to somehow make this situation feel right.

As you contemplate your next move, the creature finds time to sneak towards you, nudging your leg gently, its touch both cold and comforting. It emits a low, woeful sound as if pleading for you. And despite it, you find yourself softening, your resolve weakening as you look into its eyes, they're filled with such a deep despondency that it almost seems as if you were gazing into a mirror.

Relenting with a soft huff, you crouch down to meet the creature at eye level. Its snout, still damp and frigid, brushes against your cheek, leaving a trail of icy moisture. You feel a surge of empathy, a sudden realization that this creature searches for companionship and purpose, just as you do. ( though you deny it. )

"I cannot promise you anything," you whisper. Your voice, scratchy from the icy breath of the northern frost, resonates with a delicate blend of tenderness and hesitation, because within you lies the awareness that this was a foolish idea. "If you so choose to accompany me, know that the path ahead is treacherous and filled with uncertainty. I cannot guarantee your safety nor mine."

The creature's eyes glinted with a newfound emotion, as if understanding you and the risks involved with being your travel companion, but that was just wishful thinking on your end. It emits a soft, almost grateful sound at your words. With a gentle touch, you stroke its furry head, rising to your feet.

"Then, let's keep moving."

“Perhaps I should give you a name. It would be improper to refer to you as ‘beast’ the entire time.” you state, your teeth clashing together in a frenzy. The creature walks alongside you faithfully, its massive form exuding warmth like a furnace, impervious to the icy chill of the north, a fact that you couldn't help but envy, even if just a tad. Your cloak had been breached long ago by the freezing air, and it genuinely felt as though you were treading on pins and needles, your body wracking with tremors from the cold.

As the two of you trudge the frost-covered road, you rack your brain for a suitable name for the animal. Alas, you're not particularly skilled in this endeavor, and it appears that the beast is aware of this as well. "What of Charles?" You propose, the words slipping hesitantly from your lips. The being reacts unfavorably to the name, meeting your gaze and snorting in response.

Your mouth gapes and you narrow your eyes. "Very well, perhaps I shall persist in calling you a beast! Now's not the time to be picky." The creature lets out a low rumble, its eyes narrowing in what seems to be yielding delight. It seems to understand the concept of a name, but is not easily swayed by your meager attempts at bestowing one upon it. Especially that of Charles.

“Fine, I’ll think of a better one later,” Your gaze shifts towards the sun as it begins its gradual descent, the darkness of night beginning to envelop the sky in its velvety cloak. The frigid air, already piercing, seemed to intensify, as if embracing an even colder essence.

Despite this, the two of you had made remarkable progress throughout the day, and it instilled confidence in you that the village would be within reach before nightfall the next day. Although the tracks upon the nearly frozen ground had begun to fade, you had found them nonetheless, a mosaic of footprints and wagon imprints. A sign of life.

“Let us stop for today, we mustn’t be out on the road during nightfall.” The latter part of your statement is uttered softly, a reminder to yourself, and the creature joins you as you stealthily veer away from the path and venture into the encroaching shadows of the woods, its tail wagging in delight. You continue walking for a brief period until you once again find yourself amidst a gathering of trees and shrubs, placing your bag on the ground before settling down beside it. You feel almost numb, as though your body has been submerged in icy waters.

The creature settles down beside you, its warm body, thick with fur, brushing against your side, providing a sense of ease in the eerie stillness of the forest. The darkness seems to press in around you, the only sound being the rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the chill that has settled in your bones, digging into your satchel to pull out your wool blanket.

You purse your lips and run your hand along its back, patting softly. “Lucky mutt.” With slow, creaky motions you envelop the blanket around your form and awkwardly collapse, distancing yourself from the creature, head landing harshly on your bag, yet you pay no mind, you were too cold to care.

The Romog stands abruptly and moves closer to follow down after you, massive frame wrapping around you. It smells of damp soil and dog and you scrunch your nose. “By the Gods, you need a bath.” you utter, burying your face within the comfort of your blanket to escape the scent.

The animal grunts, unamused at your insult, shifting away from you; and in an instant the cold envelops you, freezing the entirety of your body. Your teeth begin to chatter rhythmically, and you instinctively seek warmth by burrowing into the creature's body, no longer bothered by its scent. “P-perhaps just for tonight, yes?”

The beast snorts again and affectionately rests its large head on top of yours, tail curling around your body. You smile to yourself as the Romog nuzzles closer, its warm fur providing much-needed comfort in the chilly night. Despite the less-than-pleasant smell, you can't help but feel thankful to the creature for its unexpected aid.

“What about George?”

The gates of the Village loomed ahead, towering and sturdy, constructed from the timber of a Viloz tree. Though guards stood watch at the entrance, it appeared they paid no heed to verifying identities or trade permits. In most bustling regions, such protocols were customary to gain access within their walls.

Considering your Uncle's relentless pursuit, one would expect wanted posters or even a bounty on your head. Yet, the lax security raised suspicions— could it be a ruse, an artifice to entice you into the open?

You duck behind the bushes once more and look toward your companion. “Alright, Aslan—,” the Romog grumbles at the name, and you sigh, rummaging through your bag to retrieve the final piece of bread. The name was still a matter of debate, as it seemed that no matter what name you chose, the Romog disapproved.

For now, it was best to refer to it as 'beast'. You take out the stale bread and struggle to tear it in half. Placing one portion at the creature's feet, you reluctantly return the other half to your bag. "Remain here, you cannot enter the village. I will come for you later tonight if everything goes according to plan."

The Romog sniffs at the bread before tentatively taking a bite, its sharp teeth tearing into the tough crust. You watch as it devours the meager meal, its eyes never leaving you. The two of you had made good timing today and thankfully made it to the village before nightfall.

The sun was drifting lower as the minutes passed but you weren't too worried about it, not when safety was within reach. Gone were the worries and anxieties that had plagued your mind just a few short days ago. The weight of the world seemed to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of security. Safety, once elusive and distant, now stood within reach, beckoning you to embrace its solace.

Although the Romog remained oblivious to the intricate nuances of the Lomaliue language, there were instances when an inexplicable connection seemed to materialize. It was as if the creature possessed an innate comprehension of your commands and the very essence of your words. It was almost comforting in a way, akin to engaging in a heartfelt conversation with a fellow human being, albeit one who chose not to respond.

“Alright?”

The Romog emitted another discontented growl, causing a faint smile to grace your lips. With gentle strokes, you caressed its velvety fur, which bore traces of frost from the relentless northern gusts. Although the biting chill persisted, your body had grown accustomed to its icy touch, rendering you impervious to its sting.

At most, you suffered from a mild case of frostnip, far from the severe frostbite that could afflict you if you prolonged your stay in this frigid wilderness for a few more days, a constant reminder of the dangers that awaited those who dared to defy Mother Nature's limits.

The Romog, sensing your restlessness, nudged you gently with its snout, as if urging you to move on. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly withdrew your hand from the beast’s fur, feeling a pang of sadness at the loss of its comforting presence.

You knew that you had to continue your journey into the Village to seek shelter and warmth before the unforgiving cold took its toll on you. You needed to find Geoffrey Jill.

Flicking your hood over your head, you venture farther from the village to a side road, so you don't look suspicious walking to the Village from the tree line. As you approached the gate, a sense of unease settles in the pit of your stomach.

The towering entrance, constructed from the timber of a Viloz tree, its bark known to be as sharp as a blade, was a formidable barrier, separating the outside world from the safety and sanctuary within.

Despite the imposing presence of the gates, the guards stationed at the entrance appeared strangely indifferent to their duties. They stood there, their eyes glazed over, seemingly oblivious to the comings and goings of the villagers and outsiders alike. It was as if they were mere statues, frozen in time, rather than vigilant sentinels protecting the Village.

If what your teacher taught you about the Kingdom was right, then in most bustling regions, gaining access to a village of such importance would require strict adherence to protocols. Identification checks, trade permits, and thorough questioning were customary measures to ensure the safety and security of the inhabitants. Yet, here, it seemed that such precautions were nonexistent. Which was odd.

This lax security raised a myriad of suspicions in your mind. Was it possible that this was all an elaborate ruse, a carefully crafted plan to lure you into the open? After all, your Uncle had been relentlessly pursuing you, his desire to capture and kill you evident in the wanted posters that seemed to adorn every tree you and the beast had passed.

But for now, this seemed to be your sole option at the moment. Where else could you possibly seek refuge? Escaping the bitter cold and finding this mystery man is your top priority. The urgency of the situation left no room for hesitation or contemplation; your next move would have to wait until later.

Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on your weary shoulders. The biting wind whipped against your face, numbing your senses. With a gulp, you cautiously approached the two guards, trying your best to appear nonchalant.

Your trembling added to the act, making it seem like you were simply a weary traveler seeking refuge from the impending winter storm that loomed ever closer. The first stick of snow to the ground usually meant a winter blizzard would follow.

Your heart thudded rapidly in your chest, almost to the point of pain, as you breezed past the guards who seemed more interested in chatting with each other than actually checking credentials. And just like that, you found yourself standing within the walls of Thaos Village, your pulse still racing with the fear of your successful infiltration.

‘Mother, Father— I made it.’

It was only when the moon rose high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the village, that you had finally stumbled upon Geoffrey Jill.

When you wandered through the village, you were initially lost in admiration of its liveliness despite the cold weather and impending blizzard. The streets were bustling with people, their laughter and chatter filling the air, while the cozy glow of warm lights spilled out from the windows of quaint cottages. The villagers seemed undeterred by the freezing temperatures, going about their daily routines.

The aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling meats wafted through the air, tempting your taste buds and igniting a hunger that had long been suppressed. The colorful array of fruits and vegetables displayed in the market stalls beckoned to you, their vibrant hues a stark contrast to the dullness of your daily routine.

As you meandered through the throngs of people, their laughter and chatter creating a symphony of life around you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for the simple joys that seemed so out of reach.

It resembled a passage extracted from the cherished storybooks of your childhood, it was enchanting in a way. especially for you who had rarely stepped foot out of the castle. Commoner life seemed almost… peaceful in a way. You were fine with just walking the streets, dodging running children, and gazing longingly at the food stalls— it had been forever since you had eaten an actual meal.

"Would you care for one?"

As you snap out of your reverie, the world around you slowly comes back into focus. Your eyes meet with those of a woman in her middle age, and you are immediately struck by her captivating appearance. She possesses a round figure, exuding an air of warmth and comfort. Her delightful rosy cheeks add a touch of vibrancy to her overall countenance, giving her a youthful glow.

Her features are refined and elegant. A flat nose sits perfectly in the center of her face, adding a sense of symmetry and grace. Her full lips, slightly curved upwards, seem to hold a perpetual smile, inviting and comforting to all who encounter her. They speak of kindness and understanding, ready to offer solace or share a laugh. Her skin boasts a rich, deep umber brown, like the earth itself.

Yet, it is her eyes that truly captivate you. They are the windows to her soul, and they hold a depth that is both mesmerizing and intimidating. A flawless, all-knowing amber hue fills her irises, shimmering with a wisdom that seems to transcend time.

When her gaze meets yours, it feels as if she can see into the very depths of you, peering into your thoughts and emotions. There is an intensity to her eyes, an unwavering focus that demands your attention.

You smile beneath your hood, you doubt she could see it but do so nonetheless. “Oh, that's alright; I have no money at the moment,” you utter, your voice hoarse from the winter chill, and your throat parched from the absence of water and the biting cold.

The woman grins, it's beautiful and motherly and it warms your belly better than any beverage ever could, it makes you miss your own mother a bit more; if even possible. She grabs one of the skewers and holds it out to you. “My treat, child. Now run along and get home, the winter blizzard is coming.”

Initially hesitant, you tentatively extend your hand towards the bottom of the skewer, feeling the cold seep through your frost-nipped fingers as they slip out from under the protection of your cloak. Though she doesn't acknowledge it, the sad smile that encases her full lips tells you that she's noticed. “Thank you, I’ll pay you back, swear it,” you assure her earnestly.

She lets out a gentle laugh and gestures for you to leave, “Alright, alright, head on home.”

With a now full belly, warmed from the delicious blend of salty meat and spicy vegetables, you now search for Geoffrey Jill with a new intensity. Despite the freezing temperatures of the northern region, which seem to penetrate your very bones, you navigate through narrow alleyways and bustling food stalls without giving the cold a second thought.

However, as night fell and the temperatures plummeted even further, your energy waned and your awe from earlier, quickly transformed into bewilderment. The once vibrant village now appeared eerie and desolate under the pale moonlight. The laughter and chatter had faded, replaced by an unsettling silence broken only by the howling wind. The cozy glow of lights had dimmed, leaving the streets shrouded in darkness.

Despite being disoriented and having already been turned around twice, you struggled to find someone who could point you in the right direction to locate Geoffrey Jill. The few villagers you encountered were bundled up in heavy outside blankets, their faces hidden beneath scarves and hats, making it difficult to discern their features.

Their hurried footsteps echoed through the empty streets as they scampered home, seeking refuge from the biting cold.

You felt helpless, standing in the middle of the street.

However, it appeared that the sight of you struggling to find your way through the village, weighed heavily on the shoulders of a man named Tomás Duall. He was an elderly figure, who was reliant on a cane for support, possessed a slight hunch, and a crown of wispy white hair– and he had offered to take you to Geoffrey.

His eyes held a deep sadness, as if burdened by the weight of his past. A peculiar scent lingered around him, a mixture of smoke and a hint of sweetness, reminiscent of candy. Tomás had led you to Geoffrey, and while doing so, spoke softly of his lost love and the children he never had, his words tinged with a sense of longing and regret.

“Child, don't follow my example. Pursue the one you desire.”

He left you with those words as he bid you farewell at the entrance of Geoffrey’s house. Unexpectedly, you discovered a fondness for this elderly man. Despite his cheeky demeanor and tendency to give hearty pats on the back while sharing a funny story, you found him rather endearing.

As you brought your attention back to the present, you extended your hand from beneath your cloak and rapped on the door. It's silent, causing a brief moment of panic as your heart tightens in your chest. Could it be possible that he wasn't home? Had the elderly man led you to the wrong house?

You stood there, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you as you waited for a response. The seconds stretched into minutes, each one feeling like an eternity as you listened for any sign of life inside the house. The wind whispered through the trees, the only sound breaking the eerie silence that surrounded you.

Swallowing thickly you knock once more. “Is there a Geoffrey Jill that lives in this home? Eunice has sent me here.” A moment of tense silence follows, the air thick with anticipation. Suddenly, the door swings wide open, revealing a large, intimidating man filling the doorway. His towering presence sends a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively take a step back, feeling small and vulnerable in his presence.

But as the door opens wider, a surprising shift in the atmosphere occurs. The sound of children's laughter fills the air, accompanied by a woman's voice, likely his wife, softly joining in the joyous chorus. The contrast between the imposing figure before you and the sounds of happiness emanating from within the house is jarring, creating a paradoxical blend of intimidation and warmth.

“How do you know of that name, girl?”

You startle at the sound of his deep voice, it's thunderous even over the sound of howling wind. You gaze up and then further to lock eyes with him. “She was my nanny– she sent me here to look for you, my Unc–”

“I cannot help you, go on your way.”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief and you cautiously tug off your hood, showing him your face. “Do you know who I am? “ You watch as the blood drains from it, watch as his jaw clenches and his eyes flutter shut. He glances behind him before stepping outside to confront you, shutting the door behind him. “Why has she sent you here, where is she?”

Despite your best efforts, tears begin to fill your eyes. “She...she is gone,” you murmur gently, and briefly you fear he has not caught your words amidst the roaring wind due to his profound silence. Yet, as you meet his gaze, you involuntarily recoil at his steely stare and tightly clenched jaw. "She was a foolish woman..."

You cannot bear to hear him speak ill of her, not when she was your dearest friend, your confidante, your mother in all but blood. You feel a surge of anger rise within you, but you swallow it down, knowing that now is not the time for confrontation. As the wind howls around you, you stand together in silence, each lost in your own thoughts and memories of the woman who brought you together, even in death.

Nevertheless, he eventually breaks the silence.

"Forget whatever she may have told you. I cannot help you, you must leave," he declares harshly, turning his back on you. Your breath catches in your throat, and panic threatens to overwhelm you entirely. This couldn't be real.

You reach out to him quickly, your hand grasping his meaty wrist, but you recoil when he flings your hand away, glaring. "P-please, I have nowhere else to go. My Uncle will find me, I cannot die like this-- not when I've done nothing to avenge my Family!"

He scoffs at your words, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Your fate is not my concern. You made your choices, now you must face the consequences," he replies, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. You feel a surge of desperation rising within you, knowing that without his help, you are truly alone in this world. Choices? What choices? You had none. “I have a family now, and I cannot risk their lives to hide a fallen Royal.”

What has your world come to? And why now? Why was this happening to you?

Geoffrey goes to retreat once more and you whimper in the back of your throat, restlessly fidgeting on your feet. "Only for the night, to escape the cold," he explains, his gaze meeting yours, revealing a slight softening in his expression. At that moment, he recognizes you as just a child. With a gruff grunt, he gestures towards the side of the house. “There is a shed, stay there. I want you gone as soon as the sun rises.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The resounding echo of a door's closure is the only response you receive. With a heavy gulp, you suppress the tears that threaten to cascade down your face. What were you to do now? You had no place to go, there was a bounty on your head and winter was coming— you would surely succumb to the icy grip of death before avenging your family.

Quivering beneath your cloak, you navigate around the corner of the dwelling and chance upon the shed that Geoffrey had mentioned. Though modest in size and riddled with gaps in its wooden structure, it was better than nothing.

Pushing open the door, which emitted a mournful creak, you slip inside and collapse onto the floor covered in fragrant hay. As your body temperature gradually rises, shielded from the frigid northern winds, a torrent of tears breaks free, streaming down your frozen cheeks. Why you?

Before the sun rose that morning, you were gone, you had slipped away unnoticed, escaping through the gates where the soldiers stood watch as stoic as ever. The bustling of the villagers as they started their day only served to highlight the emptiness in your own life. With no direction and no sense of belonging, the weight of displacement settled heavily on your shoulders.

The icy touch of the northern winds no longer fazes you, your eyes dry and unyielding to tears, and the sensation in your feet has long faded away. You wander without purpose beside the road, your hood tattered from snagging on skeletal branches. Your mind is a foggy haze, memories slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

You trudge forward, your footsteps echoing in the silence of the winter wilderness. The road stretches out before you, endless and unforgiving, leading you further into the heart of the icy wasteland. But still, you press on, driven by a force you cannot name.

Perhaps it is a glimmer of hope, a flicker of light in the darkness that propels you forward. Or maybe it is simply the instinct to survive, to keep moving despite the odds stacked against you.

The 'beast' had vanished from the very spot where you had last seen it. Maybe it had decided to leave, and you couldn't fault it for that. In fact, if given the chance, you would have done the same thing in a heartbeat.

And although you had initially chased the creature away when your paths crossed, now you couldn't help but acknowledge the profound sense of solitude that engulfed you in its absence. It was astonishing how deeply you had connected with it, even in the mere span of two days.

Banishing those intrusive thoughts, you shift your attention to the world around you. After trekking for what seemed like an eternity, the snow crept up to your ankles, and you were hardly able to see in front of you. The frigid air enveloped you like a thick blanket, making each step feel like wading through a sea of molasses.

You could feel the weight of the snow pressing against your boots, making each movement a struggle. The once familiar path had become a treacherous maze, with the snow-covered trees and bushes blending in a monochromatic blur. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of your labored breaths and the occasional creaking of branches under the weight of the snow.

The bitter cold gnawed at your bones, seeping through every layer of clothing. Your fingers and toes were numb, and you could feel the sting of frostbite threatening to take hold. The frigid air seemed to penetrate every pore, leaving you shivering uncontrollably.

As the blizzard began to manifest its icy wrath, the wind surged with newfound vigor, and the temperature plummeted to depths unfamiliar to your senses. In this desolate road, the realization of your death gripped your heart, an undeniable truth that whispered through the frigid air. You were going to die.

You slowed to a stop, and your limbs, once enfolded tenderly around your midsection, descended languidly to your sides, resembling a lifeless puppet. You were going to die. The icy grip of death or the cruel clutches of starvation awaited you. You had no place to go. The dreams of revenge that once fueled your every action now seemed distant and unattainable.

Perhaps it was time to consider a different path, one of acceptance and surrender. Why not just meet your family halfway? You could be reunited with them if you just…stopped.

So you did. Your legs gave way, and you collapsed, your bag slipping from your weary shoulder. As you tumbled into the snow, it welcomed you with open arms, cushioning your fall. Then you were no longer cold, no in fact you felt warm.

Nestling deeper into the snow, you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be transported to a different time and place. In your head, you saw yourself as a child, cradled in your mother's loving arms. You could almost hear her gentle humming, a lullaby- its name long since forgotten.

The world around you faded away, and you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, the weight of your burdens finally lifted. It was a slumber that beckoned for eternity. A few moments more, and death would claim you as its own, offering you an escape from the pain and suffering that had plagued you for far too long.

But just as you were about to surrender to sleep, a voice pierced through the darkness. It was faint at first, barely audible, but it grew louder with each passing second. "Wake up," it whispered urgently, pleading for your return. Confusion washed over you and you slowly opened your eyes, the vision of your mother fading away.

Instead, you were met with the comforting gaze of your beast. It stood tall and formidable, its snout tenderly nudging your cheek. But you couldn't, you didn't want to go on anymore- and so, with a heavy heart, you closed your eyes once more, yearning for the eternal embrace of sleep.

It was warm you realized, almost tenderly so, the thick heat permeated every fiber of your body and it carried with it the intoxicating scent of smoke and embers, enveloping your senses in a dizzying embrace. This was no mere illusion, no figment of your imagination like the deceptive warmth you sought while nestled in the icy embrace of snow. No, this was a tangible warmth, a palpable sensation that was real.

It was all-encompassing, like you were wrapped in blankets and surrounded by a huge, blazing fire. It was as though the very essence of existence had been breathed back into your body. It was as if every nerve in your body was on fire. You never wanted it to end, never wanted to return to the mundane reality of life on the run. If this were death, you’d eagerly welcome it.

But it was not. You could hear the eerie sound of the howling blizzard wind and if you focused hard enough, you could discern the faintest touch of icy coldness caressing your skin from time to time, only to be swiftly engulfed by a comforting warmth. You were alive. You were alive. It shouldn't have tasted bitter on your tongue, the thought of living– but it did. Reality had a cruel way of creeping back in, like a thief in the night.

Fluttering your eyes open, you’re immediately met with darkness accompanied by the faint sound of the rhythmic dripping of water. Groggily, you tilted your head towards the left, where the furious northern blizzard continued to roar with a vengeance, and you gave your weary eyes a chance to adapt to the profound darkness. After a few minutes, gradually, the feeble radiance of the moon emerged. Night had fallen.

You could hardly think, let alone remember what happened after you passed out. Where were you? Who brought you here? And where exactly was here? All these questions but no answers. Sitting up slowly, you turn your head, scanning the surroundings with a sense of unease, the warm air wrapping you in a soft embrace, as if it were alive. Yet there was no fire to be found. No flickering flames, no glow of light, no sound of crackling firewood. Where was it coming from?

The sound of crunching footfalls on the snow startles you and your body, overcome with a primal instinct, lurches backward, stumbling and trembling, seeking refuge against the warm cave wall. “Who is there? Have you brought me here?” Silence hangs heavy in the air, amplifying the thunderous beats of your heart, as their steps hasten and your breath becomes shallow and rapid, your chest tightening with each passing second.

There was a high pitched whine before your Romog companion sauntered into the wide expanse of the cave. Its fur was matted with snow which seemed to twinkle like jewels in the dull moonlight. You closed your eyes and let out a soft breath of relief, resting your head against the wall, heart slowing to a soft thump.

You could now vaguely remember seeing the Romog before you passed out, feeling the icy cold touch of its wet nose on your cheek. Perhaps the beast had pulled you into the cave before the weather could truly put you out of your misery.

A nudge on your neck makes you open your eyes, gaze slanting to the right to look at the animal. Its eyes are familiar and warm, it leaves your heart to somersault lazily in your ribcage. You smile small and reach out to run your hand along its jaw. “Where have you been?”

There’s obviously no reply but the beast cuddles its large head into your lap and rumbles contentedly, eyes falling shut. You breathe out a sigh and caress through its wet fur, once again resting your head on the warm cave wall. With a little bit of the security you had, now that the Romog was here, you took the time to scan the cave.

It's massive, and if the warm draft is anything to go by, it's quite deep as well. The constant but faint sound of dripping water also hints at some type of lake or stream within the cave— your mouth salivates at the thought of water sliding down your parched throat. It had been days since you'd last had anything to drink.

And despite how paranoid it might've sounded, this cave felt strangely, lived in— it didn't seem abandoned in the slightest, but you also felt safe. In the state that you were in, it wouldn't be wise to roam and explore the cave just yet. However, when you have the energy to go do so, you will.

But for now? You would sleep once more.

405 notes · View notes

oldpotatoe · 1 year ago

Text

as many of you know, gaza has now gone dark.

targeted israeli strikes have wiped out the telecommunications infrastructure. phone lines and internet services are gone. gazans cannot call their loved ones to check if they are still alive. they cannot call for ambulances for aid. if they survive the increased bombardment tonight and the following nights, they will bleed out alone with no aid.

now i will tell you what will happen in the next few days/weeks, and i pray it to be untrue. unfortunately the apartheid state, also known as israel, has been quite obvious and transparent with their plans.

the stated goal of many politicians over the years from israel, including netanyahu, has been to have the entire strip of land of gaza as israel, with no separate region for palestinians. i am not going to provide links, google is free and i am fucking tired.

what they had done before tonight, in the last two weeks, was destroy over 50% of buildings in gaza city as well as neighbouring areas, so gazans have nowhere to return to. gazans have been forced south, and israel will use this opportunity to have troops in north gaza (currently referred to as the ground invasion) advancing south while bombing "h*mas sites" in the south. israel will do this knowing there are plenty more civilians there that will die, causing terror and panic and having palestinians want to flee to anywhere, anywhere that is safe.

israel is doing this in the hopes that this panic and terror will convince egypt to open the border (well, the border israel isn't currently bombing) so that palestinians can escape to the sinai desert in egypt.

once survivors leave, the area that is currently the gaza strip will 1) be reduced in size if a lot of palestinians stay, should they not be bombed out of existence, or 2) be entirely absorbed into israel if very few palestinians stay, which is the ultimate aim of israel. those remaining palestinians will be moved to the west bank, or the remainder of gaza will be converted to west bank conditions where they'd go through the same problems palestinians in the west bank go through (reduced access to water, checkpoints to go from any place to any place within their own land, getting dispossessed, or randomly killed by racist extremist settlers).

now, egypt has been adamant not to displace the palestinians. in online discourse, people have been dehumanising palestinians by talking about past disruptions in other refugee areas and saying that is why egypt does not want to take them. while there may be slight truth to this from egypt's perspective, the major reason egypt is refusing is that no palestinian refugee abroad has even been given the right to return to their own land. and this will be the fate of gazans if they are made to leave in a mass exodus to egypt/other neighbouring countries such as jordan, which these leaflets from army-backed israeli are threatening palestinians with (photo from salfit in the occupied west bank):

therefore, what i likely see happening is the above bombardment (in increased numbers now that gaza has gone dark) -> mass panic in gaza, more so now that gazans are cornered in the south -> a reluctant egypt, but with the US will promise a large amount of "aid" money to egypt to facilitate the mass exodus of palestinians, the borders will open.

palestinians will be forced out. israelis are already planning on hoovering up the prime real estate there, for amusements park no less!

this is nabka 2.0. this is genocide.

btw, as we speak: israel's leading newspaper is already making claims that h*mas's main operation base is under shifa hospital. the hospital currently housing 50,000 displaced palestinians. the idf is claiming h*mas is using the hospital as a human shield, which is their new favourite phrase to justify killing civilians. so you already know what to expect in the news.

#palestine #free palestine #my heart is so heavy.#meanwhile in tel aviv - parties. halloween nights. weddings and celebrations. meanwhile 50 miles away there is a massacre happening.#dont talk to me about pain if you in any way support the israeli gvt or zionists. dont interact wit this post. i have no patience left.

1K notes · View notes

you-have-a-metal-arm · 4 months ago

Text

'Til The End of The Line pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of hospitals

Summary: You get injured in a mission, and Bucky cannot bear to see you in such state.

Author's Note: Please do not copy or translate my work. English is not my first language, so please understand grammar or spelling mistakes.

Thank you for those who enjoyed the first part, and thank you again for waiting.

Part 2 is now yours.

The world around Bucky seemed to blur as he followed the medical team through the corridor. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum. The sight of you lying so still, bloodied and broken, was something he never thought he’d see—not like this, not when he hadn’t even told you how much he loved you that morning.

As Dr. Cho and her team wheeled you into the surgical room, Bucky’s steps faltered. He felt like he was wading through quicksand, every movement heavy and slow. He wanted to be with you, to hold your hand, to tell you that everything would be okay. But he was kept out of the room, forced to watch through the glass as the doors closed behind you.

Tony, standing beside him, placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong, Bucky. She’ll pull through.”

But Tony’s words felt hollow to Bucky. He had seen too much death, too much loss. The fear of losing you was like a knife twisting in his gut. He couldn’t lose you—not when you were his reason to keep fighting, his anchor in the storm.

His mind raced back to the last few months—the mornings spent in quiet domesticity, the late-night talks about the future, the way you laughed at his terrible jokes. How could it all be ripped away in a single moment?

Bucky pressed his hand against the glass, his breath fogging up the cold surface. His other hand clenched into a fist, the tension coiled tight in his chest. The image of you, fragile and bleeding, burned into his mind.

Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours—he couldn’t tell. Time had no meaning as he stood there, waiting, praying, hoping for a miracle.

Tony stayed by his side, silent. Steve joined them, his face drawn and pale. The guilt weighed heavily on Steve’s shoulders, and Bucky could see it. But Bucky had no room for blame—only a desperate need for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dr. Cho emerged from the operating room. Her face was tired, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “She’s stable, but it was touch and go for a while.”

Bucky’s knees almost buckled with relief, but he held himself upright by sheer will. “Can I see her?”

Dr. Cho nodded. “She’s still unconscious, but you can sit with her. It’s important she has someone she loves nearby when she wakes up.”

Bucky didn’t wait for further permission. He pushed past the others and entered the room where you lay. The sight of you hooked up to monitors, IVs, and machines tore at his heart, but at least you were alive. Your chest rose and fell steadily, and the color was slowly returning to your cheeks.

He pulled up a chair beside your bed, taking your hand in his. The warmth of your skin, even faint, was enough to give him hope. He brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his thumb tracing the lines of your face as if memorizing every detail.

“I’m here, doll,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “I’m right here. Please, come back to me.”

The room was quiet, save for the beeping of the machines that tracked your vital signs. Bucky stayed by your side, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. He didn’t sleep, didn’t eat—he just watched you, waiting for any sign that you were waking up.

Hours passed, and the rest of the team came and went, offering support, but Bucky barely registered them. His world had narrowed down to just you, lying so still in that hospital bed.

At some point, he must have dozed off because he was startled awake by a faint pressure on his hand. His eyes flew open, and he looked down to see your fingers twitching slightly in his grasp.

“Y/N?” His voice was barely a whisper as he leaned closer, his heart pounding in his chest.

You stirred, your eyelids fluttering weakly. It took you a moment to orient yourself, but when your eyes finally opened, they were full of confusion and pain. “B-Buck?” Your voice was hoarse, barely audible.

“I’m here, doll, I’m right here.” Bucky’s relief was palpable as he squeezed your hand gently, his eyes misting over. “You’re okay. You made it.”

A weak smile tugged at your lips, though the effort seemed to exhaust you. “I… I thought… I wasn’t going to make it.”

“You did, though,” Bucky whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re safe now. We’re together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, your hand trembling slightly in his grasp. “I… I heard you… on the comms. I was so scared… that I’d never see you again.”

“It’s quite a miracle that she woke up. But we still must keep an eye out for any damage to her brain,” the doctor said.

“I’ll call Dr. Cho for further checkups. My job’s done for now.” The doctor left, and Bucky’s gaze returned to you.

Bucky sat back down beside you, his eyes brimming with unshed tears as he clutched your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. He couldn't believe you were awake, breathing, speaking to him. The terror of almost losing you hadn’t yet faded from his mind.

You looked at him, your voice barely a whisper but full of the love you had for him. “Hey, I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

Bucky let out a shaky laugh, a mix of relief and disbelief. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours, feeling the warmth of your skin that he thought he’d never feel again. “You scared the hell out of me, doll. I thought—”

His voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know, I know,” you whispered, your free hand weakly brushing the tears from his cheeks. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, Buck.”

He pulled back to look at you, his blue eyes swimming with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted, his voice barely holding together.

“I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

“You won’t,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand with as much strength as you could muster. “We’re going to get through this. Together.”

For a long moment, Bucky just stared at you, memorizing every line of your face as if afraid it might vanish if he looked away. The weight of everything he had almost lost hung heavily in the air between you, but so did the promise of the future you still had together.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the intensity of the words.

“More than anything in this world.”

“I love you too, Buck,” you replied softly, your eyes shining with the same intensity. “And I’m sorry for putting you through this. For making you worry so much.”

“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. You’re the strongest person I know, and you’re going to get better. We’re going to get through this, and then we’ll live that life we talked about.”

A small, hopeful smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, with the house, the backyard, and maybe… maybe even those babies.”

Bucky’s heart swelled with emotion at the thought. The future seemed so far away, but with you here, with your hand in his, it felt possible again. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice choked with emotion. “We’ll have that. I promise you, we’ll have that.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, exhaustion weighing heavily on you, but you fought to stay awake, to stay with him. “I’m going to hold you to that, Barnes.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You better. I’m not going anywhere either, doll. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good,” you whispered, finally allowing yourself to drift off to sleep, knowing that Bucky would be right there when you woke up again.

As you slept, Bucky stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours tightly. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink, afraid that if he did, this fragile moment of peace would shatter. But as he watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, he let himself believe that everything was going to be okay. That the darkness had passed, and the light of a new day would bring the life you both deserved.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky allowed himself to hope.

---------------------------------

Tag list @baw1066 @hzdhrtss @mrsnikstan

---------------------------------

Thank you for reading and enjoy your weekend :)

377 notes · View notes

auspicioustidings · 4 months ago

Text

Cry, Baby

Summary: Serial killer Kyle takes you home, his room mate Ghost plays with you while he is away. Words: 1.7k CW: NON-CON/RAPE This is basically Ghost violently raping your throat. I cannot stress enough that if that makes you uncomfortable do not read it.

It had saved your life you think, how you looked when you cried. The Butcher is what the papers called him, but you knew him as Kyle now. He had broken in to your sister’s house which you were staying in while she was on vacation with her family a few months ago and you had been sobbing by the time he was stood over you with a cleaver. It was cruel how he did it all, stalking you through the building, little traps designed to fracture bones and rip open skin appearing, messages left on the exits about how he’d be so disappointed if you tried to get out (you had obviously and he was, enough that when he caught you he had carved his name into your breast while cooing at you that it was ok, he was doing this so you’d remember to be good, could look down whenever you felt the temptation to misbehave and remember who you belonged to).

He hadn’t ever left anyone alive before and you didn’t think he had intended to leave you alive either, but when you started sobbing he looked at you as if he was enamoured.

“Well fuck me, first little lady I’ve met that doesn’t look pretty crying.”

That’s what he had said and it sounded like “I love you”. He took you home bloodied and broken and wrapped in his jacket like he was saving you. He never physically hurt you again after that. Even when he was buried inside of you he was gentle and loving and couldn’t stop speaking words of adoration into your skin. He only ever touched you after he had been out hunting. You only ever felt his hands on you when they were covered in the blood of yet another girl. There hadn’t been much of a pattern before he took you, at least that’s what the news had said. It was fucking mean of Ghost to show you that had changed.

—

The blonde man with the scars was a mean looking motherfucker and he had looked at you when Kyle brought you home like you were less than nothing and then proceeded to ignore your existence with the exception of standing over you each morning to watch you swallow a pill. You hoped it was contraception. It was a bit of a shock realising that the Butcher wasn’t just Kyle, it was the man called Ghost as well. You were weary of him, but you never had to be around him alone. If Kyle was out, so was Ghost. Until the day he wasn’t.

“Knees.”

You were unsure if he was talking to you at first, but he rolled his eyes, sighed impatiently and threw you to the ground by your hair without any explanation. You tried to scramble away which earned you a boot into you ribs that took your breathe away.

“You fucking deaf girl? On you knees.”

You got onto your knees but it was difficult. Your head hurt from how he had thrown you by your hair and your ribs were on fire. Since Kyle only gave you pretty little white dresses to wear (it made it all the worse when he came home after a kill to fuck you with how visible the blood was) your knees were bare on the floor. You hoped the boot mark would wash off. Kyle hated it when you were anything but his perfect little lamb ready for him to gently debauch. Last time you had bitten your nails a cage had appeared in the corner of the living room and you had spent days in it while he expressed just how disappointed and sad he was that you would do that to yourself. The plastic mouth guard he had forced onto your teeth ensured you hadn’t been able to bite you nails again while in the cage. The ever looming threat of disappointing him ensured you hadn’t bitten them since.

Ghost was looking down at you in disgust as he pushed his sweatpants down to hook the waistband under his balls with alarming casualness. Even soft he was big and the glints of metal running up the underside made you dizzy with panic. The beads weren’t round on the ends of the little curved barbells. They were spikes.

“S'not going to suck itself.”

“I… I don’t-” you stuttered, cut off as he grabbed your hair again and pulled hard to crush your face against his dick.

“Don’t need you to talk. Suck it or it’s going in your arse. You’re going to cry, baby. Doesn’t much matter to me where my cock needs to hit to make it happen.”

He was hardening beneath your cheek and one of the little spikes was scarily close to your eye as he forced you to hold your head there and ground forward before letting you go. A warning you thought. Fuck he was thick. He was getting so thick. He would tear you apart. So with fire in your ribs, a boot print on that pretty white dress and your strands of your hair hanging from his fingers from where he had ripped them out you took his cock in your mouth and sucked.

Your mouth had to stretch wide to accommodate him as he kept thickening up and your jaw ached. The first time you felt the scrape of metal on your tongue you jumped and tried to pull back but his hand settled on the back of your head and pushed you to take his cock deeper. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t taste anything but sweat and precum and metal, couldn’t feel anything but the throbbing of you head and your knees and your ribs and your jaw. The throbbing of his cock heavy and insistent on nailing your throat.

“Atta girl, cry. C'mon cry, baby!” he barked at you as he started fucking your throat like a pussy and your eyes started to water as you gagged around him. “Sallow. I said fucking swallow” he growled as you gagged again, pulling out to smack your face hard with his now solid cock.

“S-sorry!” you cried through heaving breaths and sobs, wondering if he was going to kill you.

“Dunno what he’s on about” he said, hand moving around your head to your chin so he could force you to look up at him. “Real fucking pretty when you cry.”

This time when he shoved himself down your throat you fought to swallow to stop the gags and he groaned when you managed it. He had his hands on either side of your head, keeping it tilted up so your eyes were on him and he could watch the tears streaming down your face. You were little more than a fleshlight for him as he bobbed you up and down on his cock.

“Your cunt this wet and tight? Starting t'see why he’s keeping you, maybe a little house pet isn’t such a bad idea.”

Your look of horror, your ruined face and hair, how your whole body was shaking with the strain, fuck, Ghost really could get into this. He was surprised Kyle hadn’t killed you yet to be honest since it was obvious he desperately wanted to. If he touched you without getting all that aggression out there was no doubt you’d be fucked to death, torn apart while he lost himself in the manic euphoria of it all. Ghost was surprised he had been so careful not to so far.

The feel of your abused tongue moving his piercings about was the little bite of pain he loved and he kept on moving your head just how he wanted. He experimented a bit, watched you closely to see which angles had that delicious spark of panic light in those crying eyes because you really could not breathe. He laughed when he got your eyes to cross by using one hand to hold your nose shut so you really started to panic.

It was the way you desperately started battering at his legs that made him groan as his balls tightened. No sense wasting his cum when you weren’t trained to swallow it all properly yet, although next time he’d make you try and then push your face in what you spat out to teach you to swallow every drop. Instead he pulled out violently, kicked your chest to have you go crashing onto your back and stroked himself off over you, aiming the spurts of creamy white right over Kyle’s name carved into the swell of your tit.

“Better get more practice in” he said, looming over you as he tucked himself back in to his sweatpants to stand completely unruffled and confident. “You give head that bad next time I’ll fit an o-ring in that mouth and knock you out so I can fuck it without all the fuss.”

You flinched and cried as his boot moved to the edge of your dress. He lifted it up with the boot, assessing your bare pussy. “Hm, might fuck that too.”

Just like that he walked off, whistling a tune as the sound of the kettle being put on indicated that he was making himself a cup of tea as if he hadn’t just left you ruined on the floor. You could hardly move, everything hurt and your whole system was traumatised by the lack of oxygen. He returned at one point sipping away at his tea and dropped a pile of photos on your body. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. All these girls looked like you. And all of them had been butchered but one. Only one photo of a girl who wasn’t dead, instead it was a photo taken through a window while she braided her hair. She looked like you too.

You closed your eyes, tried to just breathe. You could survive. You would survive. This wasn’t forever. They’d get caught one day and then someone would save you. Or maybe they’d never get caught and you’d have to save yourself.

A rough wetness on your chest jolted you awake from dozing. Kyle was over you, covered in blood. He was lapping at the cum drying on your chest and it was painful in the places it had dried as he scraped it off with his tongue. His hands squeezed you, moving fast to grip whatever part of your body they landed on before moving on, covering you in bloody handprints. You wondered if you were being painted with the blood of the girl with the braid. He was more excited than usual, trousers already haphazardly halfway down his thighs so he could hump your thigh with his bare cock.

“Don’t worry, Kyle’s home, your Kyle is here baby girl. Going to take such good care of you.”

You wished you knew which Butcher you hated more.

#mhairiwrites #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #cw: noncon #darkfic

354 notes · View notes

yan-lorkai · 1 month ago

Note

I’m not really used to requesting so here goes. Can I please request a platonic yandere hades Idia x kid reader who can see spirits? Where the reader just randomly approaches him when he is visiting the mortal plane (on his way to a mortal arcade. This man cannot live without his games Istg) and starts complimenting his hair and asking if he would be their friend, since all the other children avoided them, thinking they were weird because they always talked to their-self. Idia not comprehending how they could see him, stood there dumbstruck. The cherry on top, was when they mentioned they enjoyed video games and offered him a controller. Idia who never really had a real friend before, who was incredibly lonely, got to thinking. Of course, you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to. Thank you for your time ^^

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: stopppp, this is so cute 🥺💗💗. I love writing platonic stuff for Idia bcs my dude don't know how to act in these situations lololol

Idia doesn't know how to interact with children. Rather, he hadn't talked with many in his life - only dead ones, even then, they never stayed long enough for him to learn how to behave around them. He knew, because of his younger brother, that they were curious and talkative and sometimes throwed a tantrum for... Whatever reason.

Point is; as the God of Underworld, nobody is supposed to see him. Yet, as he wondered the living world, wearing nothing but his black as coal coat, there's you, sweet you, very much alive, very much capable of seeing him. And your mouth is moving, and your eyes are sparkling and he doesn't know how to navigate around this strange situation.

That was not supposed to happen.

Humans doesn't usually see him. There's this old saying that children and animals can see and interact with the supernatural, but this was a first for him. He always thought that this saying was just that: a saying. Apparently he was wrong.

Deeply wrong.

Breathe in, breathe out.

He is a God, he can't panic just because a kid is talking to him.

"- And then, that's what happened." You finished your story, voice trembling as you held onto his silky blue hair - he was half listening to what you were saying, something about how the other children wouldn't play with you just because you could see thing they didn't- which, he realized. You were not supposed to see him, either!

You seemed fascinated by his hair, twirling and braiding it between your little fingers as you looked at him with great expectation. "Will you be my friend, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"L-look, listen, kid..." Your eyes were sparkling at his voice. For him, his voice was just normal, there was no reason for you to look so giddy. It was quite sad that you got happy just because someone was talking to you, he almost felt sad. "I have to go."

He nodded to himself mentally. He wasn't awkward at all. He didn't stuttered and he maintained eye contact. But... something he didn't predict happened; your eyes started to well up, and your lips were trembling.

"Oh... I see... That's fine." You conceded, not trying to force him. You wiped your eyes roughly and took a deep breath, turning around. "I just... wish I had a friend to play games with."

Idia hastened his steps. He was going to let you run away and all that, he felt bad for making you cry, of course, but a living child shouldn't associate themselves with someone like him. Yet... Your tone and atitude made his heart waver.

And he stopped you.

His hand on your shoulder was cold, almost as cold as the dead, you suppose, and you looked at him with curiosity.

"Perhaps..." He started, changing the weight from one leg to the other. He looked around; the stores were starting to open and people were starting to look at you in a weird way - not that you noticed. "We could play together at the arcade?"

You nodded immediately, sorrow and sadness forgotten as you took his hand in yours and started to run to the nearest arcade you knew. Your energy, your laughter, it was so precious, so unique. Unlike other laughters he'd heard before.

There, in that moment, Idia knew that you would become his lil game friend. You went on and on about how you'd win in every game and he could only smile, not wanting to disappoint you. But there was no way you would win.

Not now, not ever.

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst idia #twst idia shroud #yandere idia x mc #idia shroud x reader #yandere idia shroud x reader #yandere idia x reader #idia x yuu #idia x mc #idia x reader #yandere idia #yandere idia shroud x yuu #yandere idia shroud x mc #yandere idia shroud #tw yandere #platonic yandere

100 notes · View notes

starcrossed-lov3rz · 7 months ago

Text

Apologize

Feyd Rautha x Wife!Reader

Series: Part 1, Part 2

Warnings: MDNI, canon-typical violence (knives/blood - READER IS FINE THO), oral, praise, light smut, dirty talk, general filth

Words: 1.5K

Description: Feyd has been busy with meetings. You take matters into your own hands.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“Everyone out!” You order as you walk into the meeting room. The silence was deafening as the military commanders and low level officials glanced furiously between you and your husband. Feyd had been in constant meetings for the last week. After sleeping alone for the third night, you were determined to get his attention. That morning, you dressed in a sheer gown that left nothing to the imagination. You were hyper aware of the eyes in the room as your nipples pebbled under the cool air of the room.

“Are you all fucking deaf,” Feyd yelled. “OUT!” Ignoring the protests of the men in the room, your husband stalked towards you. He stopped in front of you, tilting his head as he took in your appearance and brushed a stray lock behind your ear.

“Girl, leave! We cannot just stop a meeting fo-” Feyd’s advisor raced towards you both. Feyd stopped the smaller man’s advance, wrenching his arm behind his back and forcing him to kneel before you.

“What did you say?” Feyd growled, sliding a knife from his thigh holster. “Repeat it.”

“I meant no offense,” the advisor pleaded. “This is ju-”

“No. That’s not it. I want you to look my wife in the eyes and repeat what you said.”

“na-Baron, please! I was out of turn! I apologize, I wo-”

“Why are you speaking to me,” Feyd was deadly calm. “Beg my wife’s forgiveness and I might let you live.” Feyd slid his knife to the advisors throat, blood beading where it met his throat.

You could see the sweat dripping down the advisor’s temple and tears welling in his eyes as he looked up at you. “Please my lady, I made a mistake. I didn’t mean it. Forgive me!” You hummed, looking away from the advisor to gently kiss Feyd.

“What do you think, my love? Should I forgive him?” You ask.

Feyd retracts the knife from his throat, standing back up to his full height. “Why don’t you show my wife how grateful you really are?”

“Yes na-Baron,” the advisor said, grabbing at his throat to feel the damage. “Anything.”

“Kiss her feet.”

You give Feyd a bewildered look, raising a brow in question. His expression broke out into a wolfish grin for a split second, and he gave you a quick wink. The advisor stumbled to comply, lowering himself to the floor to kiss your feet. You struggled not to laugh as you saw the horrified faces of the remaining advisors and officials in the room.

“Enough.” Feyd said as he pulled the advisor from the floor to stand in front of you. “What do you say?”

“Thank you my lady, I-” his groveling was cut off as Feyd slit the advisor’s throat, and tossed his body to the side. You don’t flinch as the blood sprays across your gown. The advisor never had a chance of leaving the room alive. Feyd wiped his blade clean on his thigh before turning to the advisors who were foolish enough to stay for the show.

“Would anyone else like to voice their opinion? Or would you all like to get out before my bloodthirsty little wife asks for your head on a pike?” Feyd sheathes the knife, backing you into the wall with a fierce kiss. “Gods, you’re beautiful like this.” He breathes out as he breaks the kiss. You moan as Feyd lowers his head to kiss across the swell of your breasts and lick the splattered blood from your skin.

Gripping the back of his neck, you arch into his touch. “Please Feyd, need you.” Your husband laughs as he retreats from your breasts and stands to his full height. Your breath hitches as his hand clasps around your throat, pushing you back into the wall.

“Now darling, no need to act out. Next time you need me to take care of that filthy pussy, just say something.” Feyd purrs into your ear. His hand tightens around your throat you gasp, eyes rolling back at the firm pressure.

Your hands trail down from his chest, hooking your thumb under his waistband to pull his hips flush to yours. “Where would be the fun in that, my love?” you murmur. “I think you need to talk less an-” Feyd cuts you off with a kiss, his lips pressing roughly into yours, teeth clashing. Feyd was never a gentle man, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. You moan into the kiss, straining against the hand on your throat to deepen in.

Pulling back, Feyd grins wickedly. “I think my darling girl needs put in her place. Maybe then she won’t feel the need to try and embarrass me in public.” A devilish smirk plays across Feyd’s lips, and he falls to his knees before you. You glance around to make sure everyone has gone, but any objections you have evaporate as he lays a swift smack on your ass.

“If this is the treatment I get for misbehaving, I just might interrupt you more often.” You tease. Feyd’s hands trail up your thighs, sliding your dress up.

“No panties?” Feyd teases, brushing his fingers across your pussy. “It’s almost like you want me to take you right here, in this room for all of my advisors to see.” You moan, grinding down into his hand to get more friction. “My darling girl would love that, wouldn’t she?” When you don’t respond, Feyd delivers another light smack on your ass. “Answer me.”

“Yes!” You gasp.

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir!”

Feyd grins and rewards you with a bite to your inner thigh as he hooks your leg over his shoulder. Your dress is hitched up by your waist, exposing your pussy to the cool air. Feyd groans at the sight. “Fuck that’s my darling girl, dripping and ready for me at all times.” He swipes his tongue across your cunt, moaning at the taste of you. “Should I call my advisors back in and take care of my needy girl? Fuck you in front of them and show them who you belong to?”

“Please,” you whine. “Please, anything. I need you.” You grind your hips down into his face as he dives back in. Feyd slides two fingers into your cunt, fucking you with them slowly as he sucks at your clit. You moan, grasping at your dress to hold it up with one hand. You place the other on the back of Feyd’s head, attempting to guide him as he eats you out.

Feyd bats your hand away and pulls back as he huffs out a laugh. “No, I don’t think I will. I would kill any man who dares see you like this.” He continues fucking you with his fingers as he shrugs your leg off his shoulder and stands up. Feyd steals a kiss, before pressing his forehead to yours. “I would take their eyes and give them to you as an anniversary present.”

“Feyd, please,” you beg. “Enough of this, please fuck me.”

He ignores you, fucking his fingers into you at a faster pace as he sucks your nipple through the fabric of your gown. You moan as Feyd bites lightly at your nipple, laving his tongue over it to soothe the pain. Whining, you reach down to rub your neglected clit. “That’s it, that’s my good girl.” Feyd growls. “Go on, take what you need.” He continues to fuck his fingers into you, angling them forward to hit your most sensitive spot.

Your breath hitches and you moan as Feyd begins matching his thrusts with the pace of your fingers against your clit. He switches to torment your other nipple, whispering filthy praises to you whenever he comes up for air. “Come on darling, so good for me. I can feel you clenching around my fingers.”

“I’m close-” You whine, arching into his mouth.

“Do it, come for me. I can feel you dripping down my hand. Just a little more darling, come on, make a mess for me.” You moan, your head jerking back as you quicken your pace on your clit. You’re right at the edge.

As if sensing that you need one final push, Feyd bites at your breast harshly. You cry out as you climax, Feyd fucking you through it. “There you go, right there. Good fucking girl, that’s my darling girl.” You whine in overstimulation, pushing at your husband’s shoulders.

Feyd gently slides his fingers from you, popping them in his mouth to suck them clean. You grip at his robes, pulling him in for a kiss. Feyd grips your waist, holding you steady as he moans into the kiss. You bite his lip gently, swiping your tongue over it to soothe the ache. “My love,” you murmur, pulling away for air, “let me take care of you.” You reach for his pants to undress him, but he stops you.

“Not here,” Feyd shakes his head. “I plan to make up for a week without you.” He picks you up, slinging you over his shoulder and planting a spank across your ass. “I will take you on every surface of our rooms. We aren’t leaving until I fuck an heir into you.”

Note: This was inspired by a lovely little request. Also, I'm not responsible for your media consumption, but if any of you silly goofy geese would like a part two....ALL YOU GOTTA DO IS ASK. <3 - Lacie

Want to be added to a taglist? Click HERE!

#dune #dune part two #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune fanfiction #dune smut

347 notes · View notes

varpusvaras · 4 months ago

Text

They don't sleep during the first night.

They have turns resting. General Kenobi stays up first, after Fox has managed to get Leia to sleep. Fox lays down next to Leia on the one bed in the small house and he closes his eyes.

He doses off, free of nightmares for the first time since leaving. Maybe it's because of the presence of a Jedi, Fox doesn't know. He's thankful for it anyway.

Then it's his turn, and General Kenobi sits on the floor next to the bed and closes his eyes, and he stays very still until the suns start to rise.

Then Leia wakes up, and Fox feeds her after General Kenobi has made them breakfast, and then they wait.

No one comes.

Fox plays with Leia. Feeds her again. Puts her down for a nap. He checks his communicator. It's silent.

Leia wakes up. Fox plays with her while General Kenobi makes then dinner. Fox feeds her and forces his own meal down. He cannot afford not to eat, no matter how tight his insides feel and how little appetite he has.

Fox puts Leia to bed. She is also calmer here than she had been in the ship. That makes Fox suspect even more that General Kenobi has something to do with it.

Fox doesn't ask.

Leia falls asleep, and Fox sits there, at the edge of the bed, and stares at the window.

The desert has cooled down by now, but it still feels like the heat is lingering inside. An invisible, uncomfortable force, pressing down on Fox's skin, and he cannot escape it anywhere.

The desert around them is quiet. Leia sleeps peacefully next to him.

Fox is just waiting for the door to be shot down and for the Empire to come flooding in like a rush of red, hot blood.

General Kenobi breaks the silence first.

"I noticed the glow last night", he says, and points at his neck when Fox turns to look at him.

"Yes", Fox says. "It's difficult to conceal, even with extensive bacta treatments, since it is so close to skin and bone."

General Kenobi hums quietly.

"Is that how you survived?" He asks then.

Fox thinks briefly of the pain and the numbness, of his body being kept alive for him, of the crunch of his bones as they had been broken and then set again, and of the weightless hours spend submerged.

"Yes", he answers.

General Kenobi nods. They don't talk more of it.

"You didn't say how they found out", he says.

"I am not sure", Fox tells him. "But they knew where to come to look for her, so they must've found out that Bail was there when she died."

General Kenobi leans his jaw against his hand as he thinks.

"We don't know if they know about both of them, then", he says. "Or just about her."

"If they know about them both", Fox says, "and located only one child on Alderaan, they most likely think that the boy is with you."

General Kenobi nods again.

"So they would have to find me first", he murmurs. He looks out of the window, towards the silent dunes.

Fox looks at Leia.

"Do they live close by?" He asks.

"Relatively", General Kenobi answers. "Distances on Tatooine are long, even the shorter ones. But they could very quickly trace my location to theirs."

"It's too risky for us to be here, then", Fox says.

Leia is his priority. Fox would do anything for her. But he cannot put her brother in danger, either, to keep her safe. It's not fair.

Has anything ever been, though?

General Kenobi turns to look at him.

"Do you have anywhere else to go?" He asks. He sounds like he already knows the answer.

Fox shakes his head.

"Then, for the time being", General Kenobi says, "this is the safest place for us all."

He sounds gently confident, like he is trying to reassure Fox of the truth of his words.

Fox has no other options than to believe him right now.

Leia sniffles, and her face scrunches up slightly. Fox runs his finger over the bridge of her nose, until she calms back down.

General Kenobi is watching them when Fox turns back towards him.

"Go to sleep, Commander", he says. "I'll take the first watch."

"Just Fox, please", Fox says. He is not a Commander anymore, after all. Just Fox.

"Alright", General Kenobi says. "I'm just Ben, now."

Fox doesn't think the name really suits the General.

Perhaps he can sense Fox's thoughts, because he smiles slightly.

"Things change, don't they?" He says. "Now, please. Go to sleep, Fox."

Fox doesn't argue with him. He lays down next to Leia, and when she wriggles a bit, he strokes her short, soft hair gently, until she settles once again.

Then Fox closes his eyes and falls into a dreamless sleep.

#a bit more for the runaway au!#we will be seeing how bail and breha are doing next #so brace for that #rn fox and obi-wan are playing house with leia #sw #tcw #Star Writing #my writing #snippets #Commander Fox #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Leia Organa #bail/breha/fox (implied)#Runaway AU

101 notes · View notes

stuffeddeer · 11 months ago

Note

Had a silly thought of like. Nendroid dazai... Being alive

Like ada nendroid Dazai who comforts u when ure asleep because he didn't want you knowing he's alive but then you know after you got him an oda nendroid to keep him company

AND LIKE THATS THE ONLY REAOSN HE DIDN'T TRY TO RUN AWAY OR SMTH promised to get him oda :3

He also tries to convince himself he's only staying to finally talk to oda again but then he's just deep in denial abt the fact he's madly Inlove

He's so silly UGH

he’s so cute i need him dead well rested and fed :)

Dazai who sits on your nightstand each night and just watches you sleep :) his eyes are locked from you to the door to make sure no one comes in (not that he can do much in his little size… like cmon man an intruder could punt you)

He’d be protective as hell!!!! Being forced to listen to every conversation and watch all of the vulnerable moments you’ve had in the comfort of your room… like if you’re the type to save crying for your pillow he’s all :( and just wants to pat your back and tell you you’ll be fine :(

If you’re the type to bring your nendoroids around with you places (the pouches gsc sells are so cute btw I want the cake one so badly) he’ll love you infinitely more!! Just getting to watch as you go about your daily life and treat him like those cats people put in those backpacks? The ones with the window for them to look out? Yes that’s him 100%

He’s just your cat you wanna show the outside world to

People who make miniature foods and cute furniture for nendoroid-scale figures… SO CUTE!!! He’d be internally jumping up and down if you made/purchased some for him

He’d love being doted on that’s so canon to me (he may not know how to accept affection but that doesn’t mean he hates it gn) so he’d be ecstatic to receive so many gifts !!!

If you’re the type or maybe you have younger siblings/cousins to play with him like some action figure oh he’s so into it. Dude’s like Shakespeare the way he’s acting out everything he’s committed

GIFTING HIM AN ODA NENDOROID TOO…..

His heart swells when you’re around (in GRATITUDE nothing else……) because ugh!!!! Out of all the little scale couches and plastic foods THIS is the gift that has him almost break character…. Like you really did this for him! And he’s gotta be aware of how expensive those stupid figures are… he’s all warm and fuzzy inside

Him and Oda take up looking after you (once again not being able to do much… it’s the thought that counts?) while catching up

He literally cannot express how much you mean to him. YOU DID ALL THIS FOR HIM!!!!!!! Sliding Oda next to him in your little pouch to carry them both outside!!! so cute

Until one day you come home with a little Chuuya to stick next to him as well.

Can he be grateful and resentful?

Ofc he’s excited to have someone else with him too he’s just annoying

239 notes · View notes

pangolin-404 · 2 years ago

Text

V2 is such a tragic character and I don't see enough people talking about it

It was built for peace (and to recuperate the cost poured into V1). It was built to be kind. It was built in the aftermath of great despair and is the representation of New Peace.

And then humanity dies. Maybe there was another war, maybe the New Peace wasn't as peaceful as it seemed (V2 was potentially used as security), but in the end it doesn't matter because humanity got wiped out and V2 was left alone.

Imagine having your purpose ripped from you, left stranded and alone (divine light ripped away, even). V2 was forced to go against its very nature of peacekeeping, forced to descend into hell along its far more bloodthirsty brethren. It ran on blood just like them, but it had to kill for it, to slaughter the already-dead and its fellow machines alike to stay alive. Without humans to maintain peace with, it is living for itself, which is a fantastic motive to live, but I cannot fathom what entropy splits its mind when initially facing this fact. Humanity is dead and it must kill its dwindling remains to continue existing.

The perseverance V2 displays is astounding. It's smart enough to know when it's losing and to run. It fixes itself with all the creativity of a swordsmachine rebuilding itself, taking scrap to make something new. Built for kindness and a new era, how much was creativity and self-determination drilled into it, encouraged?

It displays so much personality in its quirks and mind, displaying respect wits its bow before combat and intimidation with it cracking its knuckles. It is trying to live, because that's all it has, in this new world so foreign to what it once knew.

surely it's scared. yes it may believe itself a truly incredible machine, the superior magnum opus. maybe it is egotistical in how it views itself, proud of itself, but what else does it have to cling to when everything else about its life has been ravaged beyond recognition? does it view the world around it and feel alone? Such an incredible self-preservation, enough to maim what once tore it apart in an attempt to steal back what was once rightfully its.

did it reside in limbo because it was the most familiar, even if it is fake? how deeply must it miss humanity. never used, scrapped just like its predecessor (its lesser). never got to truly experience that desired peace, now forever out of reach. all it can do is persevere and continue existing clinging to what little of itself it has left, and that is what it does, what it tries to do, and what it fails to do.

#thoughts #ultrakill #v2 #ultrakill posting #got thinking bc I see lots of people portraying v2 as prickly and egotistical and I think it is very caring+creative+SCARED inside #like I think it would take 1 heartfelt peace offering + hug to make that thang break down #I think it misses humanity. I think it misses it a lot

647 notes · View notes

bitterrobin · 8 months ago

Text

Let's talk about Damian, the League of Assassins and the al Ghuls. A.K.A things to keep in mind when writing them.

You don't have to force yourself to comply with this, but there are some important facts you need to know and things you absolutely SHOULDNT do (be racist or orientalist).

Read on for a long post about Damian and the League and his family - giving context, some research and comic storylines, and characterization.

There are basically three different backstories for Damian.

Batman: Son of the Demon - technically, this baby is unnamed and not completely Damian. But the writer of that comic does still (sorta) resent that Morrison was able to write Damian in current comics while he wasn't. This baby was given up for adoption by Talia and we never see him again. Fans vastly prefer taking this backstory (me) because Damian is NOT a product of rape and Talia is written like herself.

Morrison's canon/the 2006-2011 era - the Damian we know and love. Kinda-sorta. So, in Morrison's whole run - Damian was raised in the League and trained as an assassin. One key point here: Talia DID NOT raise him. Morrison instead wrote that Talia only first met Damian when he was eight years old, and she was out of his life before then. Morrison also completely fucked up by writing Talia as a rapist who assaulted Bruce in Son of the Demon rather than the actual consensual sex they had. While it gave us the character, its not the complete version that many like. (and also its pretty racist)

Tomasi/Gleason's canon in Batman and Robin/Robin: Son of Batman - almost the same Damian as before, with one key difference: we actually get see what his training and life in the League entailed. Additionally, Talia in this version raised him from an infant, thus making his connection with her much stronger. A win/lose situation there. Talia would never raise her son under her father, but we do get a stronger mother/child bond than we ever had before. (Still fucked, but insanely better than Morrison).

From these three versions, only two utilize the League of Assassins in Damian's origin.

The League, then, is very important to his character. By extension, so should Ras right?

In Morrison's canon/the 2009 era - no, apparently. As per Resurrection of Ras al Ghul, he only sees Damian as a vessel for his soul. To stay eternally youthful and does not care for him as grandson in any way. This...is a lot. You could use it for angst. But it's also not in line with Ras' characterization. You could argue that this version of him and Damian have never interacted before but still.

Here's what you need to know about Ras al Ghul. He was and still is: a doctor. A man of science. He loves and wants to save the beauty of nature. Ras is an eco-terrorist. Not a generic assassin. He believes in the life of nature, animals, but he despises humanity for what they've done to the world. He has seen it all, and he canonically laments of loss of endangered species, of ruined habitats and long-gone animals he once cared for.

He also loves his family. A lot. The entire reason he becomes the Demon's Head is because his first wife, Sora, was killed by someone he treated, and then he was imprisoned and forced to co-habit with her corpse. Of course, over the centuries he's been alive, she's become only one reason for his existence, as we see how jaded he sees humanity and how little he trusts people. He latches onto Talia, his surviving daughter, because he loves her and he grieves her mother. He degrades Dusan, the White Ghost, because he cannot bring himself to love him. He was murdered by Nyssa because she felt betrayed and began to despise his love (and inaction). In current canon, Damian is his grandson and he loves him, despite everything.

Of course, it doesn't justify what he's done. But it's a crucial part of his character: the twisted love that cages. The love that binds and says it knows best for you - "I only want the best for you, I want to protect you, I want the world for you. Can't you see that? I can bring you something better." The fact that he's an ancient immortal only adds to the superiority he believes he's giving to his family.

We return to the League of Assassins. SO, the League was canonically created to further his ultimate goal: saving the planet. Again, eco-terrorism. The League exists to cull the human population. Ras believes in utopia, a world without any humans (even himself and his family). Ras is willing to die, eventually, like a really long time from now, if he gets to complete his goal. Thus, the League wholeheartedly believes in him, for the betterment of the world with their savior at the head. Exactly how the League treats their mission and Ras depends on the writer - but it's common to write them as a cult. Almost a religion.

We don't really get a lot about they operate. There are figures like Dr. Darrk and the White Ghost and all the stuff that comes up in Red Robin. We get some interesting ideas and characters in Robin: Son of Batman. But we don't get how the League works. There's no comic that does a step by step breakdown of their finances, operations, assassins, employees, what Ras actually does to lead and impart his vision to his followers.

We go the cult route, then. Here's something that I'm currently exploring and that I think others should too: The League is a global cult that believes in the holiness of death and the end of humanity in order to save nature/the planet. The League is far-reaching. It is eternal. It has existed for centuries, just as long as Ras al Ghul has.

Damian was part of a cult. Depending in your version of events, he was either taken from his adoptive parents or born into the League. Either way, he was indoctrinated. He believes in his grandfather's ideas. His training, canonically, began when he was very young. It was fast paced, trainer after teacher after teacher. He didn't grow attached to them, but he retained the skills. He is raised not just as an assassin. He is raised as an heir. A leader. An overachievement of talent and privileges. He embodies Ras' beliefs.

He is worshipped. A symbol of the cult. A prince. He is dehumanized. He is a figurehead, a piece of Ras that the common folk can touch and see. Damian believes in this superiority, misguidedly thinks they respect him and not the word of Ras. And there begins the struggle.

He grows up arrogant. Manipulated by his loving grandfather into something he really shouldn't be. But there is still Talia.

Either she only met him later in life when he was eight years old, or she was there from the beginning. In both cases, she would NOT stand for her son being treated this way.

Talia is not a completely non-violent character. She has killed before, and does not have the strict rules of Bruce. But she's not an assassin (at least , she didn't used to be). She can cry over a soul lost. She can shoot a gun but with a trembling heart. Talia was raised by her father with affection. She was sheltered, spoiled. She was educated and trained, yes, but she was not made into a weapon. She was taught martial arts for skills, protection, for Ras' paranoid benefit.

She was loved, but Ras has canonically hit her in moments in rage. He has canonically manipulated/threatened her to try and kill Bruce. I fully believe that she would want to protect Damian from as much abuse as possible even if they're both in the League.

You can interpret her split from her father as many things: her love for Bruce, her love for the world, her own love for her father and seeing in horror how twisted he'd become, her need for independence, to be her own woman without Bruce or Ras in her life, an abused child becoming an adult, etc.

Talia also canonically studied medicine (in Cairo). She believes in life. She would impart this onto her son. She wouldn't want him to grow up sheltered as she was, nor would she want him to become a weapon to be wielded. Talia would advocate for him to be taught arts and literature and respect for nature, and to try and give him some sense of normalcy. She was the one who let him keep Goliath. She would never kill Damian's pets (Morrison you have three days what were you thinking?!).

(EDIT: adding some more context to the Talia section of this post!)

After Talia healed Jason using the Pit and sent him to be trained, she left the League in entirety. For several comics, she was entirely independent and drifting - enjoying her life apart from Ras as her own woman.

For a brief moment in comics when Lex Luthor was the US President (yes that happened), he chose Talia to oversee LexCorp. Talia does not like Lex, but she agreed anyway in order to secretly change his company from the inside. While she put on a front to the public and Superman as another cruel businesswoman, in reality she was draining Lex's finances, shifting LexCorp into a more ethical direction, and digging up as much dirt as possible on Lex in order to take him down. She secretly gave Superman information on all of Lex's evil plans as she could, but didn't directly work with him. She wasn't LexCorp CEO for very long, but it was pretty much all she was doing until the events of Death and the Maidens. It can be assumed that while she was a CEO, Damian was being trained in the League in secret.

In Batman: Death and the Maidens, Talia was kidnapped and repeatedly tortured/resurrected in a Lazarus Pit by Nyssa Raatko (her half-sister) in order to brainwash her. She was killed, over and over and over again, then resurrected every single time afterwards in immense pain until she was filled with nothing but primal rage. Nyssa's goal was to use Talia as her own pawn against Ras in a revenge plot. The brainwashing made her a loyal follower of Nyssa, hate Bruce, and made her kill Ras without a second thought. Eventually, they succeeded in taking over the League - leading to the eventual storylines in Robin: One Year Later and Infinite Crisis where Nyssa is shown leading the League (before her unceremonious death). Ras eventually returns in the Batman: Resurrection of Ras al Ghul storyline that precedes Final Crisis/Bruce's death.

Some fans use this Pit event to explain Talia's butchered character in later appearances - making her abusive and cold to Damian and a full villain towards Bruce - as a consequence of this horrific brainwashing. It's definitely a far better explanation for her actions in Batman and Robin (2009) and Batman Incorporated than her sudden heel turn under Morrison. Unless you're completely re-writing her actions in the 2009-2011 era to be more in line with her original characterization, then this explanation is an easy add-in to explain her dynamic with Damian in your fic if you want.

You could take the complicated family dynamics of the al Ghuls and write some seriously heavy stuff on love and abuse and the cycles of trauma and violence. From Rúh to Ras down to Talia/Nyssa/Dusan down to Damian and Mara. It's one big circle.

Speaking of which, here's a list of all known al Ghuls for your convenience.

Rúh al Ghul - AKA Mother Soul. Ras' mother. She's fairly recent, but I think she's interesting enough to include. Unlike Ras' hard beliefs in science, Rúh is very spiritual and a practitioner of magic. Through her, it can be implied that every al Ghul has the possibility of learning magic. She believes in a figure called the Demon. Led the League of Lazarus on Lazarus Island, where she was basically imprisoned for centuries.

Ras al Ghul - real name unknown. The originator.

Sora - his first wife. Deceased. Killed by a raging prince who was healed by the Pit, as Ras did not know what it did back then.

Melisande - his second wife. Talia's mother. Half-Arab, half-Chinese. Deceased. Ras canonically met her at Woodstock (lol). She was murdered by Qayin, the antagonist of Son of the Demon. In some depictions (basically only Morrison) she was revealed to be alive and a fortune teller who hid her identity from Talia. (I think her being dead makes more sense for how Ras treats Talia, and her issues/love for her father).

Nyssa Raatko - I believe she's Ras' oldest child. Technically, she's been dead since Infinite Crisis and has not appeared in comics ever since. Canonically tortured and brainwashed Talia. Led the League for at least a couple months to a year. Half-Russian, part Arab and Chinese. Jewish ?, it's complicated. Canonically survived the Holocaust. Is immortal.

Dusan al Ghul - the first White Ghost. Albino. The forgotten and despised son. Still very loyal to Ras, does not call him father and instead calls him the Demon's Head. Mara's father. Is not immortal.

Talia al Ghul - the younger child. The beloved one. Damian's mother. Is not immortal.

Damian al Ghul-Wayne - you know already.

Mara al Ghul - Dusan's daughter. Damian's cousin. I think they're pretty much the same age. Raised in the League, led the Demon's Fist. Can be assumed to have been trained in the same subjects as Damian at the same time.

Compiling all of this, here's the things to NOT DO when writing the al Ghuls and the League:

Making them animal abusers, encouraging Damian to kill animals or showing him their deaths. The League stands for nature. They would not kill them unless its for food or mercy. It's insanely racist, even, to imply that a group of Arab-based people or Ras or Talia would gleefully brutally murder a puppy in order to teach Damian a "lesson."

Making Ras or Talia comically abusive. Ras would be hard on Damian and manipulate him. He's smart. He knows what he's doing all the time. He'd rather keep Damian's loyalty than turn him against him using physical violence. That doesn't mean he wouldn't ever threaten him, just..idk show some restraint when you write them interacting. On the other hand, Talia WOULD NEVER ABUSE HER SON. You could make an argument for Ras, but Talia would never ever hit her son unless she was forced to.

This is just common sense. DO NOT write the League or al Ghuls as racist, orientalist tropes. Research before you write? Use your brain. Please, I'm begging you. If you think of a concept you think might be problematic, look it up, try and find sources, ask around.

Make Ras weirdly obsessed with/in love with Tim. Seriously. What the fuck. This also weird and racist. I've seen horrendous tik-toks making shitty jokes over this. ITS NOT TRUE. STOP MAKING HIM A PEDO BC YOU THINK ITS FUNNY OR EVEN REMOTELY INTERESTING. Never once has Ras expressed a desire as making Tim "his bride" or some fucked shit like that. I'm going to beat you with hammers.

Having everyone take a dip in the Lazarus Pits/using them extensively to become immortal. As far as I know, only Rúh and Ras have used them frequently. Only they are the immortal ones, the ones arguably driven slowly mad by the unknown sciences of the pit. Talia is not immortal, she's not even that old, and she doesn't have the desire to be ageless. She has to be at least near Bruce's age, maybe younger than him depending on the timeline/your interpretation. Damian did not ever become exposed to the Pits until after he was killed in Batman Inc, and even then- he was NOT resurrected by it. (Actually I don't think he's ever been put into one.)

Having Talia hate Bruce. Like, No? Currently, they have more of a "we are Divorced but still care another but also we don't agree" dynamic. But they were once really in love, star-crossed even, they were married. But Ras and circumstances and even Damian pulled them apart. (I do think writing Damian as a child of divorce is both accurate and kind of funny).

Finally, demonizing all of the al Ghuls and making Bruce's half of the family Damian's saviors. THIS is racist. Full stop. Making his majority white family the "good ones" and "saving" him from his evil brown family is an insanely bad thing to write. We have to see it enough in comics, please don't write it into your fic. There can be redeeming things about the al Ghuls, about his life prior to meeting Bruce. Keep in mind, always, that Damian is part Arab/Chinese, that the al Ghuls are all a mix of Arab/Chinese ancestry and that they should/would be imparting their culture onto him. The League was where he was taught art, to appreciate animals. You could write Talia imparting certain tea preferences onto him, favorite cultural foods, practices, numerous languages. Ras is immensely proud of his own heritage, muddled by age it may be, there's no way he didn't let Damian express himself this way. I fully believe Damian is fluent in various Arabic languages and Chinese, and that his first language is not English.

My final message: think before you write. Consider the actual comics, in fact, I'll put one here for Ras.

Ras al Ghul: One Bad Day. Published 2023. Unfortunately written by Tom Taylor (sigh). Its still good though.

Ras kills some rich guys for facilitating the extinction of the wolf species you see. Of course, Bruce investigates.

Ras kills Bruce, keeps him dead for three months before resurrecting him in the Pit. Damian stays by Bruce's side. There's a lot more, but I implore you to read this comic for yourself to get the full experience.

Thus ends this post. Read this comic for yourself! Have fun writing them, just take these things into mind.

#dc #damian wayne #dc comics #ras al ghul #talia al ghul #league of assassins #batman #batman meta #dc meta #robin #waspdoesathought #racism #kinda #just keep in mind there's some insane tropes stapled onto the al Ghuls and perpetuated further in fics #a painted bird named tamer #writing advice ?#enjoy :)

123 notes · View notes