#tw allusion to rape

[propertyofwhitney67]

Dreams of Tomorrow

Whitney The Bully x Reader Fic

Words: 869

Warnings: allusion to rape and some talk of it, injury

I slowly pushed myself up from the dirty ground once I knew they had left. I gathered my clothes and carefully put them on, doing my best not to brush against the forming bruises and the scrape to my back. I stumbled out of the alley and into someone, ”Sorry…” I mumbled, keeping my head down. Not wanting to get into another encounter.

Before I could turn to walk away they reached out and grabbed me. God, please not again. “What happened to you.” It was Whitney, he was alone. I suddenly remembered it was Sunday, he must be going to the bar.

I kept my head down, “Nothing…” I didn’t sound convincing in the slightest.

He lifted my chin and checked my face. I must have looked like a mess with a split lip, dried blood near my hairline, and torn clothes. He scoffed, “Bullshit. I’m taking you home. Don’t want another fuck using what's mine.” I looked back down in shame. He pulled me close and put his arm around my waist to take me with him.

To my surprise, he turned towards the Danube Street mansions. He was taking me to his house and not the orphanage. I looked up at him in question, but he ignored me. I’ve only been to his house a handful of times, normally when his family wasn’t home. “Don’t be loud.” Whitney said as he pulled his keys out and unlocked the door. I followed behind him to his room. Was he going to lecture me, fuck me, or let me patch myself up and leave? I never know with him sometimes.

He looked me up and down, now able to see my injuries better in the light of his room. He stepped forward and pulled me into a tight hug, I suppressed a groan as he put pressure on the cuts on my back. After a minute or so he let go and then pulled me into the bathroom where he got out a first aid kit from under the sink. “Have to fix you up.” He opened up the kit pulled out what he needed then turned to me. “Alright, we’ve got to get these clothes off of you.”

He reached for the hem of my shirt and I flinched away, it was all still so fresh. He raised his hands in surrender at my actions, not wanting to make things worse by forcing me. “Do you want me to help?” He asked in a soft tone. I know I can trust him, I thought to myself as I nodded my head. 

Slower this time he reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, I sucked in a breath of air as it brushed against the cuts on my back. He looked at me with a worried face, I only shook my head. He tossed the torn shirt to the floor, there was blood on it. My adrenaline was starting to die down making me feel tired and sore. It continued like that, him slowly peeling off the rest of my clothes till I was naked. Normally when I’m naked in front of him his eyes are filled with lust but this time they were filled with worry.

He grabbed a towel and placed it on the toilet seat then gestured for me to sit. He quietly tended to my wounds. The only sounds were me groaning in pain from the disinfectant. Once he was sure my wounds were clean he bandaged them. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it. I hate how silent he was being and decided to speak, “I lost track of time…before I knew it it was dark. They came out of nowhere, I didn’t…” I let out a choked sob, It was all starting to hit me at once. “I didn’t hear them.” Tears gathered in my eyes, I tried to blink them away to no avail. “I-I…” I began to furiously wipe away my tears, mad at myself for breaking down.

“You don’t have to.” I let out a sad smile and nodded my head in thanks. He helped me up and to his bedroom where he got out some clothes for me to put on, an oversized shirt and sweatpants. I put them on carefully, doing my best to not get anything caught on the bandages.

Once dressed sat on the edge of Whitney’s bed with my hands in my lap. “...sorry for ruining your night.”

“Don’t fucking say that.” He said with anger in his voice while he changed his clothes, whether he was angry at me or the situation I don’t know. Once done he sighed and sat down beside me and laid back. He was quiet for a while, leaving me to my thoughts. 

I joined him and laid back on the bed and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. I wanted some kind of comfort. He squeezed back, he looked to be in deep thought. “One day…one day we’ll get out of here.” He said while looking over at me. I could only smile sadly. Leaving this town is nearly impossible, but maybe with him I could.

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

[farfromstrange]

I know I am not American, and I won’t pretend I understand perfectly how your system works, but I want to say something regardless because I feel some might need to hear it again.

Please vote! If you are old enough and eligible to vote, do! Use your voice!

Vote for women’s rights.

Vote for the rights of immigrants.

Vote for the rights of the LGBTQ+ community.

Vote for the rights of minorities.

If not for yourself—if you’re privileged enough not to fear for your reproductive rights or your mere right to exist or love whoever you want (if you’re a white, cis man)—vote for human rights. If you think it’s hopeless, vote anyway. Vote because your vote matters.

Vote because American politics are not detached from the rest of the world. Your next president will have an impact on the rest of the world, not just your own country. That is why so many Europeans are fearful today. That’s why many small countries around Russia are fearful today. That’s why so many people who are not American are telling you to vote.

Because your Republican candidate, quite frankly, is a threat to world peace.

He is a threat to your own people.

Appeal to your common sense. Think about all the women bleeding out in parking lots from miscarriages that doctors in states with abortion bans are too scared to treat.

Think about what it would feel like for you (if you’re straight) to lose the right to love whoever you want in public, to marry them or start a family with them.

Think about what it would feel like to know you were born in the wrong body but being unable to get gender-affirming care.

Think about what it would feel like to grow up not learning about sex, periods, or even gender identity, and not understanding what’s happening to your body when you wake up at 8 years old and you’re bleeding.

Think about what it feel like to be this little and be forced to carry your rapist’s baby while he doesn’t even get prosecuted for it.

Think about what it would be like to send your kids to school and worry they might not make it home.

I know for almost all of you, that is already gruesome reality.

So, think about what it already feels like. Think about what it would feel like to not fit into the typical cisgender white mold, to be a minority and have your rights stripped away—your human rights—and vote accordingly.

Because just because something is not your reality doesn’t mean it isn’t the reality of millions of Americans.

And if it’s your reality, you need to fight.

(Of course, there are a lot more examples I could get into, but I hope you get the message.)

There is no such thing as the perfect candidate. Politicians are not your friends. You need to pick the one you think will do the best work, who stands for the people and not against them, and hold them accountable for the rest.

Some people need to get off their high horse and realize that the world is far from black and white.

I’ve had to choose between impossible candidates to vote, but I also picked the party I knew at least cared about human rights enough to fight for them. I picked a party so my vote wouldn’t go to the far-right.

Because not voting at all is just like voting for the worse candidate.

So make your vote count, and think carefully about who you’re voting for. Because does anyone with at least half a brain really want to be associated with a pedophile rapist convict who understands jack shit about politics? I don’t think so.

Vote, please. If not for yourself, do it for everyone else. Do it for your country, do it for the rest of the world, but most importantly, do it for those who might not be able to.

- 💙

[greenisms]

ok so the protag was assaulted and almost r@p3d by this guy in a classroom. then the enemies to lover love interest shows up and fights the guy. guy leaves. protag and e2l guy have sex in the same classroom 3 minutes later. this is a new level of...something

[luneandbarbecue]

a very distressing plot bunny (god please don’t take it lightly) - I made a post instead so that the friend im messaging has a opportunity to opt out and not have a lingering darkness in the chat room

Sephiroth sets out somewhere (maybe on a mission?) where he ends up encountering a very distressed woman. He realises that they are giving birth very very soon and has to help deliver the baby.

The woman is screaming, almost hysterically, telling him to “get it out”. He has no idea what to do, other than try to remain calm even if he doesn’t feel it. There is blood and swear everywhere, even the way the baby was coming out was terrible. The woman finally expels the crying infant and Sephiroth her he’s a boy, it all seemed beautiful until the woman hisses.

“Get rid of it.”

Her words were like a punch knocking all of the air out of his chest. He remained, shocked.

“Get it away from me! That parasite! Now!”

He wasn’t quick enough to react to the woman grabbing the knife to stab the blade through the infants neck. The sharpness connects with his arm before the woman withdrew the blade and leaned back again, huffing from exhaustion. The baby is not crying anymore. She still had yet to expel the placenta.

“It’s over… thank god…”

Sephiroth felt himself go on autopilot, healing the wound from the blade intended to cut the umbilical cord and tending to the woman before medical reinforcements arrived. He knew, logically that there are tragic circumstances where people get unwilling pregnant, that they are unable to love what had came out of them. But a part of him also held onto the concept of a mother’s unending love. Even if she had died, maybe she would have loved him. Yes?

The events that had transpired left him shaken. He couldn’t blame the woman if she did not have a choice on her end to carry a baby, he won’t blame her for that. But even so, the man still felt inner conflict.

Now there was one more thing to be less certain about himself. Maybe he was something his mother wanted to get rid of, that he was merely an unwanted parasite.

Sephiroth was unable to sleep for a few days.

[paparazzifuckoff]

WE ARE NOT YOUR DOLLS WE ARE NOT YOUR DOLLS WE ARE NOT YOUR DOLLS WE ARE NOT YOUR DOLLS WE ARE NOT YOUR DOLLS

“When they invaded our souls, that too was rape” - Richard Wagamese in Indian Horse

Krzus: Don’t worry, it ends in a good place. We don’t give you nihilism in 11th grade, we wait till you’re in 12th grade to break your souls with the German philosophers. Me: [soul having shaken and sobbed, laughs]

[vorochi]

I hate how attuned I am to 4chan garbage now. The choice of those colors causes me pain.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Lucifer & Alastor helping someone they care about who is in an abusive relationship. TW: GN! Reader, MDNI 18+, Abusive Situations, Allusions to Rape

What he never expected was for his first love after Lilith to fall in love with the scum of the world that you were currently with.

Your partner was the worst mentally, physically, and emotionally in all ways that pertained to you. Leaving Lucifer dumbfounded as to how such a pure, lovely person could be glued to this thing.

You would meet up together on your rare 'friend' dates covered in bruises and marks poorly hidden by your clothing choices or makeup.

He knew better. He knew the difference between a love mark and one done to assert dominance.

Lucifer tried to keep his mouth shut and not get involved, especially since you would beg and plead with him that it was only one time and because they felt threatened.

It was never one time; you were thrown around like a rag doll every day after your 'friend' dates with Lucifer.

The only reason you were allowed outside is because your partner knew that if you didn't show up, Lucifer would assume they killed you.

What broke the camel's back was the day you came to your friend's date and were very scared to touch or come near Lucifer.

Usually, you were a big hugger and would sit close to him, but this time, you sat far away and were oddly quiet.

Lucifer took note of each body movement and sound you made and realized that you were closing your body off, covering your private regions. He saw red.

He didn't care if you hated him after this. What he cared about was saving you from this asshole.

He dropped you off with Charlie, letting her know it's a code red and telling her to keep you at the hotel.

Lucifer stormed into your house, and your abusive piece of shit partner was right there.

Though Lucifer came out on top like always, he ensured your ex felt every ounce of pain they gave you. Lucifer pummeled them even long after they were dead.

When Lucifer returned, you knew deep down what happened, and you were scared but also thankful.

It took a lot of time and healing, Lucifer making space and distance for you to decide if you wanted to cross.

When you finally healed enough to let him care for you, he was extra careful and showed you what it was like to be treated by someone who loved you.

Alastor was a gentleman, and he knew, first and foremost, that a partner should never be handled or treated poorly.

He was raised right by his momma, and after watching his father, he swore to end anyone he caught reenacting those heinous crimes.

That's why when you came into his life, he was livid at the marks and scars on your body.

You were pretty reserved with him, not letting him in close due to your fear of what your partner or he would do.

Your excuses for the injuries became quite colorful and imaginative in hopes of ensuring that you were not pressured into answering more.

Alastor found out about the abuse from a mutual friend, Rosie. She grew worried when you missed three different meet-ups with her and caved, telling Alastor his worst fears.

When he entered your home, he heard your screams and pleads first, leading him into a full onset rage.

He was careful to ensure you were modest and safe in his rampage of ending this creature's life.

Once his souls had had their fill of devouring the cretain that walked the earth, he covered you carefully and escorted you out of the home safely.

He took you to the hotel and let you have space with others with similar experiences.

He was content if you were mad at him for the rest of his life and never spoke to him again about his actions, but he would never let someone so close to him hurt like that.

When you finally let him back in, when things started to calm down, and you began to get help, he treated you like a delicate flower, how you should have been treated from the start.

He worshipped you in love and appreciation, just like his momma taught him.

Prompt suggested by @literallurker

[vidavalor]

Hello lovely! I'm wondering if you have any thoughts about Maggie in Final1 5? Isn't it weird that she wants to go back to talk to Az and Crowley while Nina's working? Something about it feels off to me.

Hello right back. 💕 There's chamomile mint tea and shortbread since we're on a Maggie theme, if you'd like some. Maggie's behavior from that scene on is super fucking weird, I agree.

Before the milk run-- when Maggie becomes the only involved character whom we lose track of a bit during The Final 15-- versus how she behaves when she returns is so strange as to be something that I consider maybe additional proof that things are not at all what they seem to be in The Final 15.

On Maggie and Crowley's weird Final 15 behavior, a possible meaning to all the allusions to robbery in S2, and what Maggie and Nina might be able to tell us about what happened at the end of S2.

TW: brief mentions of show's non-consensual possession/rape analogy.

Think for a moment about how truly weird Maggie's request for her and Nina to go back to the bookshop in that moment actually is...

It's only been a matter of minutes since Maggie and Nina were basically hostages in the bookshop who were almost killed by Michael and Saraqael. Crowley saved their lives in getting them out of the shop maybe, what? It's been a minute since I rewatched that bit of it but it couldn't have been more than 15 minutes prior?

The beings in the shop but for Maggie and Nina are supernatural and so left magically without using the door but while we the audience know that these people are no longer in the shop because we were watching it, Maggie and Nina do not know that. When Maggie suggests to Nina that they go talk to Crowley and Aziraphale, they have no way of knowing if the beings that just tried to kill them are still in the shop. They didn't even see Aziraphale leave with Whoever Derek Jacobi Is Playing yet because Nina was all "where's the other one?" to Crowley when they arrived back in the shop.

Maggie is literally like: Nina, I know you opened the business you own late and are the only one working right now and have a line of 20 people waiting for their morning, pre-work coffee but what if-- just hear me out-- we just made them wait an indefinite amount of time to voluntarily go back into the place where we nearly died a matter of minutes ago that could still be full of the people who wanted us dead and we did this for no other purpose than just to tell off my beloved adopted godfather and his partner, who just risked harm to save both our lives? And to maybe then also stick our noses into their love lives in return or something?

I mean... WHAT?!?! lol

Consider, even, how even more weird that is when Maggie, just *prior* to having gone to the mini-mart, had never been more on the same page with Nina and never more understanding?

She sacrificed her own want to go sleep behind the counter of her shop to offer to help Nina. It's a big moment of change in their relationship and shows a lot of growth for Maggie. She's gone from someone who is caring but has a tendency to only think about how things make her feel to seeing things from Nina's perspective. She's matured through the season into being someone more ready to be a partner to Nina. Maggie offering to help Nina with her morning rush-- and Nina accepting the help-- is the sweet, romantic moment showing that these two are heading in a positive direction, both individually and together.

When Maggie gets back with the milk, though? After she's been out of our sight for a few minutes? She's behaving very differently.

During S2, Maggie is shown to be a pretty guileless character. She might have the occasional judgemental moment but she's not deceptive or tricky and she really wouldn't hurt a fly. When Maggie comes back from the milk run, though, her insistence on Nina dropping everything and going with her in that moment is not just weird behavior but manipulative in a way that could not be more out of character for Maggie.

Nina has been in an abusive relationship where she was afraid of displeasing Lindsay. Maggie is aware of this, as it's been the subject of multiple conversations between them throughout the season. So, when Maggie gets so bizarrely insistent on Nina dropping her work-- her livelihood, her purpose, her job-- to meet Maggie's demands in that moment? When this isn't an emergency of any kind and isn't at all time-sensitive and there is no objective reason why Nina should be halting her job to do what Maggie wants in this moment? Maggie is being controlling in a Lindsay-like way. She keeps at it, knowing that Nina will give in and agree to go with her because Nina is used to doing that with her partner.

Nina hesitates and isn't sure whether or not to go with Maggie for a moment and I don't really blame her? This is the complete opposite behavior to Maggie before she left for the mini-mart. Maggie is suddenly acting quite a lot like her polar opposite-- the Lucifer-and-Heaven-paralleling Lindsay.

Maggie is also literally on Nina's shoulder like a devil the whole time in the scene in which she's convincing her to step away from the shop and go across the street with her to the other shop for a chat and...

...listen to what we just said there...

...it's a parallel to the thing that Whoever Derek Jacobi Is Playing is doing with Aziraphale, is it not?

So, what happened on the milk run?

Who did Maggie run into at the mini-mart that we couldn't see in the ending of S2 without it giving the game away? I wouldn't be surprised if, on this mirror-happy show, on the other side of learning in S3 that it was The Devil with the coffee in the bookshop in The Final 15, we also had a scene that showed that, while on her milk run, Maggie had a run-in with Sister Teresa's killer.

Did Hastur possess Maggie as part of Satan's plan? Was the idea to use Maggie and Nina to further trip Crowley and Aziraphale towards disaster to get Aziraphale? If so, it kind of half-worked. I'm not convinced that anything Maggie and Nina said to Crowley really mattered-- I think they weren't telling him anything he didn't already know or feel and that it's largely misdirection for the audience. What was effective, though, was the impression Aziraphale got upon seeing them leave as he was coming in.

Maggie and Nina being back in there at this weird time and then rushing out with smiles and comments like that they were "just leaving" and they were sure Crowley and Aziraphale had "a lot to discuss" seem to have led Aziraphale to assume that Crowley had asked them to come back and to the conclusion that he must have done so to tell them of his intent to ask Aziraphale to marry him. It's Maggie and Nina leaving the shop that reinforce to Aziraphale the idea that, when Crowley stands up afterwards, takes off his glasses, and says he supposes he has "something to say", that Crowley is only trying to communicate a proposal and not a plan.

It's what helps-- big time-- to lead Aziraphale to not listen for a shred of coded language for the entire scene. Neither he nor Crowley are listening for that with one another, which is why neither of them can truly understand what the other is saying, but Aziraphale's part of that is really fucked to Hell by the presence of Maggie and Nina in the shop when he came back. That's all pretty suspicious since Maggie was out of our sight for a few moments and came back fixated on the idea that she and Nina needed to go to the bookshop right that very moment and that it couldn't wait.

The Final 15 is a dark parallel to The Baby Swap plot and Maggie and Nina are full of shadows of Sisters Mary and Teresa to a point that the final shots of both of them in the series are mirror images of the final shots of their S1 characters. Nina looking through glass at Crowley departing is the last shot of Sister Mary both in 2008 and 2019, while Maggie's last shot?

To me, it's one of the most eerie moments in the entire series because of how much it visually resembles Sister Teresa's death.

Basically two minutes after we hear about The Second Coming... in the same season where Maggie and Nina's partial-vavoom gives way to a (possessed?) Gabriel saying: the dead will leave their graves and walk the Earth once more... we are shown Crowley and Aziraphale's apparent adopted goddaughter unresponsive on the counter of her shop.

Is Maggie dead?

Is Maggie asleep, like we were led to believe she wanted to do earlier in the episode? Maybe. Is she comatose/unconscious? Maybe. It's just that, best I can tell, she does not take a breath during the shot which I feel had to be intentional on the part of Maggie Service, and she's in the same position as we last saw Sister Teresa in S1...

Then, there's the robbery theme and how Maggie and Nina foreshadow so much of the end of S2 back in this scene here:

In Good Omens, the shop is the character. Maggie is, symbolically, the records she sells. The show also explains that Maggie's shop used to be a part of the bookshop. Now, there are three characters, not two, who are A.Z. Fell & Co.: Aziraphale, Crowley and Maggie. At the same time, Aziraphale is also The Small Back Room. The shops are intertwined as the characters are, essentially, family in the story. The fate of one is the fate of the other, which makes what Maggie and Nina foreshadow when talking about Maggie's shop while trapped together in Nina's not just the fate of Maggie's shop in S2 but also of the bookshop.

Maggie says that if she can't close the door to her shop, someone could walk in and take records. Maggie is the records she sells so, symbolically, this means someone could take Maggie. We got a bit of a preview of that when Shax appeared to get into her mind during the attack on the bookshop and Maggie also became the one who unintentionally "let the robbers in."

These robbers, Maggie frets... they could empty her till-- take all her money on a literal level... take her mind, or maybe even her life, on another. (Not to mention the now chill-inducing use of money-related words and coins with regards to the paralleling Crowley...) These robbers could take forcible ownership of Maggie's shop-- so, of Maggie. Maggie's shop was born of the bookshop... so, they could take forcible ownership of the bookshop, too.

Not just the physical bookshop, though that, too. The symbolic bookshop. Which is not only Aziraphale but Crowley and Aziraphale.

But, if The Small Back Room was originally part of the bookshop, then the bookshop really isn't just Crowley and Aziraphale-- it's Crowley, Aziraphale and Maggie.

If the robbers come for the bookshop, they've also come for The Small Back Room because it is all born of the same, symbolic shop.

Is that what they did?

Is that why Maggie is last shown to us non-responsive in her shop?

Now, Nina's even more foreshadowing reply:

Nina said that, if she owned a record shop, she'd be more concerned about "someone breaking in and leaving more records behind."

What are records? They're the literal records in the musical and old film sense that Maggie sells, yes, and also Maggie herself. They're also books, like what Aziraphale sells, and Aziraphale himself. But they're also a third thing that's very much of note in S2.

They're also the life's work of a scrivener, like what Muriel does.

Nina foreshadows someone breaking in and leaving "more records behind"... which is exactly what happens in The Final 15.

Elspeth's graverobbing. Bildad stealing Job and Sitis' wine and food. The 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. Aziraphale having the missing Shakespeare Robin Hood play in the box in 2.06. The robbery-based fantasy Aziraphale was telling Crowley in Lockdown: ...the other night, when a couple of young lads broke into the back and tried to steal the cash(cache)box!

The Final 15 is a robbery.

The last two episodes see the shop attacked during The Meeting Ball and into the next morning. Aziraphale is robbed blind of his entire life. Characters are taken hostage. Signals for help are tried and fail. The cop, it turns out, was a stooge for the robbers. Whoever Derek Jacobi Is Playing broke in through the open door and robbed the place blind, as Maggie foreshadowed. As Nina foreshadowed he would, what did the robber leave behind?

More records. Muriel.

To rob, as we know, is to steal. It's to plunder or strip a place from someone through force and/or violence. That is why it was once, in addition to being descriptive of physical goods stolen from a person, also a word that was used for rape, for which non-consensual possession has been analogous since the show's first episode. That is why some of us think that the music goes insane on the look to Crowley in the scene below. Satan is robbing Crowley-- forcing him to identify him as The Metatron to Aziraphale and the angels and to let Aziraphale go alone with him.

Satan attacked Crowley in front of Aziraphale and, while Aziraphale pretended he didn't see it, he did, which is why he led "The Metatron" straight out the door in an effort to get him away from Crowley. Because, speaking of characters behaving very weirdly... anyone have a better explanation for why guard dog Crowley sat in that chair like he couldn't get out of it and encouraged Aziraphale to go alone with a guy who once tried to kill them? It just doesn't make any sense unless his words are not really his own and there's only one character we've seen do that to him.

And if Crowley's not the only one behaving out of character, then what else happened to Maggie at the mini-mart but something similar?

What happened in The Final 15? Satan robbed the bookshop.

He and The Metatron don't give a toss about the shop itself and plan to destroy it alongside everything else once Armageddon gets rocking. They're there to get Crowley and Aziraphale out of the way for Armageddon by dividing and conquering. Just because we've yet to see blood doesn't mean this wasn't robbery by force.

Satan took hostages at the start-- letting the ones go he didn't care about go and keeping the ones most likely to influence the shop's owner: Crowley and Muriel.

Satan and The Metatron sacrificed Muriel to their plan, not caring if Muriel explodes along with the shop when they kick off Armageddon a matter of *checks watch* basically any minute now after S2. We think Muriel is better off in the shop at the end of S2 but I'm not totally sure they are. I think it actually might be one of the most dangerous places to be in right now. The bookshop didn't burn down this time-- it was burned as safe space in every possible way. It's a crime scene.

The Metatron and Satan are here for revenge. The Metatron is letting Satan have Aziraphale to get Crowley and Aziraphale out of the way for Armageddon. There is no real job offer-- it's all Satan tempting Aziraphale into falling. Satan's revenge on Crowley and Aziraphale is to force Crowley to help him take Aziraphale right out from under his nose. That's the start of it, anyway.

Besides Armageddon and daring to have a relationship and a sense of self outside of the demonic collective of Hell what is Satan really pissed at Crowley and Aziraphale about?

His kid. Adam. Crowley and Aziraphale helping Adam against him.

If Satan has been lying in wait, still very, very angry at Crowley and Aziraphale for turning his son against him and if he's now here for revenge, then who else besides Aziraphale is then most in peril here?

Yes, my Job-and-Sitis-paralleling poppet... your big, cross duck and your kids are most imperiled here and S2 showed us that your kids are not just humanity writ large but, specifically, Maggie. The Small Back Room is of the bookshop that is you and Crowley. Maggie is your Adam. Will Satan come after your daughter? It's a concept posed in your paralleling/foreshadowing story earlier in the season... actually, it was also the entire plot of that paralleling story earlier in the season as well...

I feel like not going with Ennon and Keziah's theories on Satan's behavior is probably the best way to form a Good Omens theory 😂 so I'll stick with the idea that Satan very much would dare leave a revenge body count of Crowley and Aziraphale's adopted kids, as the Job minisode proved he'd do even with the spawn of "God's favorite human", let alone anybody else.

As, speaking of foreshadowing lines, this is really even more S2 than it was about S1:

Satan will even have a whole pseudo-philosophical chat about it with you first, amused that he's standing in a place called Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death and ordering a coffee while the plan is likely for this place, the women making him the coffee, and everyone on this street and on most of the planet to be dead by tomorrow.

Maggie is the only character who actually asked for coffee using that exact word in S2.

[mizzcap]

anya x reader pretty please with a cherry on top??? she deserved better -m-

ofc my lovely!❤️

Synopsis: the Tuplar is saved! Expect they crash landed on- Aeaea?

ANYA × CIRCE!READER

TW: Jizzard (gets killed in part 2), slight gore mentioned, post crash curly appearance mentioned, possible allusion to rape

Reader is implied to be Female! However I will keep the pronouns vague as too allow for anyone to place themselves in the role!!

A bit of a song fic

-Anya was woken up the moment she felt a jolt rush through the ship

- tired eyes instinctively trailing off to Curly, almost wincing on instinct upon seeing the state of her captain. She will never be used to that sight

-jimmy was the first to find the hole in the ship, they crash landed on some kids of Island. Where they back home?

-no

-earth didn't have these weird.. cloud things

-Anya would later learn they were called Winions

-she was instructed to go first, despite Swansea insistence that the "Captain who carries all of the power should carry the burden of being first"

-the others trailed behind Anya (Swansea holding Curly) as she approached a tall set of palace door

A beautiful person in what seemed like a loose greyish toga that hung over their chest. Their waist was secured with a golden belt and they wore no shoes, though their ankles and wrists were adorned with golden bangles

Long pointed ears twitched upon seeing the group, More specifically when their eyes zoned in on Anya

A smile found its way onto their face as they hopped back a few steps, opening their arms as they allowed for the group to enter

"Come inside!"

"damn" Jimmy whispered and whistled, making Anya Cringe a bit as she hesitantly continued

"welcome to the best part of your lives" their hands ghosted down Swansea's shoulders

"go ahead and rest wherever you like!" Fingers ghosted over Curly's bandaged head as they slipped open a large door before they spun, facing Anya as the men walked into the room

"I've got you .. (Y/N)'s got you now"

Something about that felt more... reassuring- calming even. Anya blinked away tears she didn't realize we're forming as the witch-..

(Y/N)

Turned away as walked into the room, Anya following close by.

The room was lavish. Magenta and gold decorations covered the otherwise white walls. Giving it a sort of mythical or unreal light

"take a seat!" They insisted, handing pressing on Daisuke's shoulders as he plopped down on a cushioned seat.

Magenta wisps of light swirled as what looked to be trays of snacks and drinks were manifested, all with the words "Let me bring you all something to eat!"

"I bet you're tired from the time spent on your feet" they took place next to Jimmy, positioning their torso as their hands found his shoulders, hot breath in his ear "think of your past.. and your mistakes. They'll be the last mistakes you make..." They muttered lowly in his ears as he stuffed his face with the breads Infront of him

Squealing

Horrifying- horrible squealing broken through as she pulled away from Jimmy.

Jimmy fell to his knees, clawing at his neck in a panic as he tried peeling off the pig snout that once had been over where his mouth and nose was

Anya gasped and slapped hands over her ears, shutting her eyes. Tears welled up as more squeals followed soon after, turning into a trio of painful swine cries.

"stop! You're hurting them!" Anya pleaded.

Daisuke and Swansea. Honestly, fuck Jimmy.

"this is the price we pay to live" the being gently cupped their hands over Anya's ears, blocking her view of the Swines as they painfully transformed. Despite the two pairs of hands blocking the sound, Anya could still hear the witch as bold as day

Yellow cat-like eyes fixed on Anya's dark and downsloped ones. The yellow pair almost going softer as they stared into Anya's.

They slowly led Anya back out of the room "no one will find their way between my nymph's and I- their loving queen"

Fingers ghosted down Anya's cheek, pushing back loose hair that stuck to her face- the girl sweating from stress and anxiety.

"this is the price we pay to love" the queen frowned as they tried reassuring the nurse. Wide yet dark eyes darting behind the queen to try and see her friends. Worry welling in her chest for Daisuke, Swansea, and Curly..

Once again fuck Jimmy

"we draw the line and watch from above"

"you're playing with my friends and hurting them!" Anya protested, tears peaking from the corners of her eyes

"I don't play, I puppeteer" the queen's words were harsh a bit hurt as magenta wisps shut the door, blocking off the swines from Anya and (Y/N)

(I WILL MAKE A PART 2 SOON DW ❤️)

[hopelesslonelyghost]

(tw// allusions to rape, never explicitly stated)

they know you have nightmares

some nights it was worse than others. some nights the only thing that can knock you deep under are the sleeping pills your doctor prescribed you. being able to drink them (under their watchful eyes) and sleeping through the whole night dreamlessly is heaven.

not having to whimper in your sleep for them to wake up to, turning on the night lamp and seeing you crying in your sleep.

it broke their hearts. knowing you were fighting your own demons and feeling helpless. not knowing what to do besides tugging you in close and shushing you and rocking you back into that hellish subconscious world. kissing your forehead and wiping away your tear-stained cheeks.

hearing your sleepy sobs turn into hiccups and eventually your breathing evening out calmed them down the slightest. but they still huddled close, wondering how they were going to broach the subject the next morning. the dreaded questions and offers to hear you out.

you never told them what you dreamed of, but they knew. reliving the days you were taken from them and what you were forced to endure at the hands of sadistic men who took pleasure in your pain. your tears. your humiliation.

no matter how bloodied and brainless they were all left, they were still very alive in your mind. haunting you in a way they couldn’t protect you. what they would do if they simply could crawl into your head and fight away all those ugly memories. wipe them completely so they could see you smile again. so they could hear you laugh again.

for now they’d settle with keeping you warm and protected from the real world while your sleeping form curled in against them, hiding your face into their chests. they’d settling knowing that those bastards were never coming back to get you. that you were safe in their arms.

they miss you, but they’ll be there every step of the way. they hold the light at the end of the tunnel, and you’ll soon see it.

hang in there.

[writingkitten]

A taste of dark Ock

Warnings: allusions to rape, dirty talk

“No, no, see I think, if I let you go, you’re gonna scurry off to the nearest police officer. And who are they gonna tell?”

You were barely getting enough air to fill your lungs, so tight the actuators were around you. There would certainly be bruises left from their unrelenting grip. Tears ran down your cheeks from the pain, and from fear.

“Sp- Sp- Spider-“

“Man,” Doc finished for you, “that’s right… and I really don’t need that, sweetheart.”

You were suddenly dropped, falling to the wooden floorboards. There was no time to get up, to run, for as soon as you were on the ground, the “hand” of the actuator pinned you down, your arms stuck at your sides.

“Do you know what I do need?” he asked, towering over you.

You shook your head, terror etched onto your face. Then, two more actuators grabbed your ankles, spreading your legs apart. The cold air hitting your inner thighs made you feel sick, getting a slight sense of his intentions.

“I need a tight cunt to use.”

[cosmerelists]

Five Reasons I like Sanderson's Prudishness (And One Reason I Don't)

Brandon Sanderson is a self-proclaimed prude (from the WOB where someone asked if there could be a triad with Shallan/Adolin/Kaladin, and Sanderson said that while Shallan & Adolin might go for it, Kaladin was likely too much of a prude, like him). And honestly, I am a pretty big fan of most manifestations of this "prudishness" in the Cosmere novels. And here's why!

[TW: Discussion of off-screen rape in Cosmere novels & rape as a theme in grimdark fantasy generally]

1. I like the lack of sex scenes

I think probably the biggest manifestation of Sanderson Prudishness is that characters just don't have sex on the page. There's a sort of sex scene in Warbeaker and I think Shallan & Adolin cuddle in bed once, but there's definitely nothing graphic. Barely anything tame. And while your mileage may vary, that happens to be my personal preference--I'm a prudish reader, so I'm solidly "meh" on in-novel sex scenes. This, for the record, is not a moral stance but just a personal reading preference. In this, I seem to line up with Sanderson's own preferences, so good for me I guess!

2. I like the fantasy swears

Sanderson also can't let his characters say "fuck." Instead, he uses a variety of made-up fantasy swears which I discussed in another post just the other day. Swearing actually does not bother me, either in real life or on the page--if Kaladin was swearing profusely the whole time using real swears instead of "storming this" and "storming that," I'd be like, "Yeah, that's fair, dude." But I actually like the fun and whimsical nature of made-up fantasy swears, so I'm a fan of this as well.

3. "Prudish" does not preclude gay people

One danger of "prudishness" is that it is sometimes a cover for homophobia--some people will claim that gay people are inherently sexual and that therefore a "clean" text must avoid gay people "for the children" or whatever. Bullshit, etc. So I like that Prudish Sanderson does not do that. Gay people do exist in the Cosmere and they do have (presumably sexual) relationships--they're just entirely marriage-focused and have never even HEARD of casual sex, just like all of the non-gay people. People of all sexualities are equally and strangely prudish, like Sanderson himself, and I think that's beautiful.

4. There is not much rape & it's all off-screen

On a more serious note, I don't like reading rape scenes, and plenty of fantasy novels have them--and a lot of them. Sanderson's novels do contain rape: there are a lot of references to skaa women being raped in Mistborn Era 1, and there's a quick reference to Sadeas, like, gathering up captured women in a Stormlight flashback. But there are no graphic rape scenes and on the whole, Sanderson avoids including any sexual assault, even by allusion. And frankly, I like that. It gives me less anxiety while I read--like, when Shallan joins up with the all-male company of slave traders, I had absolutely no fear that the book was building up to her assault. During Dalinar flashbacks where he was a warlord and killing machine, I was not concerned that rape would be used to make him seem more vile. And that is definitely my preference.

5. I just don't like grimdark fantasy, I guess, but I do like adult fantasy

Again, this is a personal and not a moral stance, but I just don't like grimdark fantasy. And I feel like so much adult fantasy is that--but while I like YA fantasy too, I do still want to read adult fantasy novels. So Sanderson is kind of perfect for what I'm looking for, being an adult-level, perfectly complex and interesting book series that strays away from all the stuff that populates grimdark books. ...Well, aside from that one time when a whole city got burned alive, I guess.

6. But there is one thing I don't like...

And that's the scene when all of the bridgemen are out after the highstorm when it's just raining and they're tossing around a bar of soap to shower together and they don't take off their underwear. When do they clean down there if not then?? Can they really not get naked together??? It's so unhygienic!

Sometimes prudishness can go too far. 😔

[roserunodays]

Kotoko's Connection with the Fairy Tale of Red Riding Hood

So THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A JOKE POST, but I kept looking into it, and now here's a full blown analysis instead lol. I realized that Kotoko has many allusions to the story of Red Riding Hood besides the wolves and her signature red jacket. The themes of familial love, protection, and deception all seem to be reflected in Kotoko's actions and what we know of her past and personal life so far. So this post will detail more of the connections between her and this tale, as well as theorize on certain parts on what her story might reveal in the future!

MAJOR THANKS to my English major himejoshi librarian bunny mutual @lillyviarabbit for proof reading this so that my writing doesn't sound clunky af 🙏

A Quick Aside: The Other Side of this Tale (TW for sexual assault and rape mention)

So...there's another side to the original tale of Red Riding Hood, one that deals with much heavier themes on what the story as a whole is supposed to symbolize. I didn't want to analyze these themes of rape, sexual assault, and analogies of being 'turned' into a woman (such as hoods/veils representing both marriage and bereavement). They are there though, and easy analogies can be made, but that's not the content I want to cover. This is mainly because I just don't think we have enough evidence or hints as of now from Kotoko's past that suggests these parts from the Red Riding Hood story are also in her story. I did not want to speculate on these parts either because I wanted to treat them with respect and sensitivity, rather than simply speculate that they have to do with a fictional character's past when we don't even have any evidence to theorize that they do. So this post will only touch upon the more well known parts of the story instead!

Also I won't be talking about Jacques Roulet and his weird ass story because none of it makes sense to me with how it's related to Kotoko, so I will leave that to someone with a bigger brain to analyze that 💀 and I'll be sticking to analyzing similarities with Perrault's version of the story, though the analysis referenced at the end also includes the Grimm version!

Allusions to Red Riding Hood Herself:

One of the major similarities between Kotoko and Red Riding Hood is — well — the red hooded jacket!

This jacket is the most recognizable part of the fairy tale, and it clearly sticks out in Kotoko's wardrobe as the outfit she wears while she's in her forest world, notably with the wolves she's running with in HARROW.

Appearance wise, Kotoko also seems to fit the bill for how Red has been portrayed throughout various iterations of the story over time.

Red's appearance generally describes a girl with short black hair and a bob that reaches down to be exact.

"Another difference lies in the fact that, in addition to [her hair] being black, Little Red Riding Hood’s hair is generally short, reaching to her chin at most, with a charming bob that frames her face."

The signature hood is also noted, with Kotoko's prisoner uniform being the only one to notably have a hood on it.

"It becomes a powerful indicator of sense. History shows that an object that goes on a woman’s or girl’s head has always been ambivalent, not to say ambiguous. It covers, it conceals, it protects, but it also alludes, adorns and attracts."

Not only does Kotoko's hood uniform reflect her similarity with Red Riding Hood, it also highlights Kotoko's tendency to protect/conceal all the aspects of herself she does not want to reveal to anyone else.

It's clear that Kotoko doesn't trust anyone else in the prison, wanting to conceal as much stuff about her as possible so she can analyze their behavior and how much they change following the time between trial 1 and trial 2. This secretive nature, interpreted by her actions and the hood she wears as a way for Kotoko to protect herself and her fragile self-worth, is also highlighted in Streaming Heart's lyrics.

"Though I seem to say many things, please try and seek out the real me. In the space between truth and lies, hidden away so well."

The Grandmother:

Another major fact that gets overlooked is how Kotoko offhandedly mentions in her family structure that she has a grandmother. As a lot of us already know, the main plot of Little Red Riding Hood is that the girl delivers food to her grandmother, who is sick and lives in a house in the woods. This detail from her interrogation is rather...specific, given that she doesn't even mention having a grandfather, just a grandmother along with her parents and older brother.

One additional piece of evidence that connects to this is the symbolism of her birthday flower, Monstera Deliciosa!

In many Asian cultures, this plant can also symbolize a respect and honoring of the elderly. Interesting, considering that this is the plant Yamanaka picked out for Kotoko.

While we don't exactly know the details between Kotoko and the relationship she has with her grandmother, her birthday flower seems to hint that she has some kind of respect for her, or at least they are most likely on good terms with each other.

"Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little country girl, the prettiest creature who was ever seen. Her mother was excessively fond of her; and her grandmother doted on her still more. This good woman had a little red riding hood made for her. It suited the girl so extremely well that everybody called her Little Red Riding Hood."

And that is why I wonder: did something happen to Kotoko's grandmother that made her realize how flawed and unfair justice can really be? Well, we know that in the story, the wolf disguises himself as Red's grandmother to try and trick her. But why litter Kotoko with all this wolf symbolism (besides the dog/tool dehumanization she's associated with) if she's supposed to allude to the character of Red Riding Hood?

The Wolf:

There is a major difference when it comes to the Tale of Red Riding Hood and Kotoko’s MV symbolism, which is the wolf’s role in each of their stories.

For Red, the wolf is the enemy. The wolf is one who tricks her from the very beginning, and the one who tries to eat her and her grandmother.

"Grandmother, what big arms you have!" "All the better to hug you with, my dear." "Grandmother, what big legs you have!" "All the better to run with, my child." "Grandmother, what big ears you have!" "All the better to hear with, my child." "Grandmother, what big eyes you have!" "All the better to see with, my child." "Grandmother, what big teeth you have got!" "All the better to eat you up with."

But Kotoko…she’s with the wolf. The wolf is instead her companion it seems, the one who runs and sits beside her when she’s doing her vigilante stuff.

And more importantly, the wolf seems like the one to be enabling her, helping her continue with rescuing the little girl and beating up the child kidnapper. It is the one thing by her side that encourages her to bare her fangs and protect the weak.

People have speculated that this wolf represents a person in Kotoko's life, a vigilante partner she used to have? Her older brother perhaps? Who knows really, but I think we can all agree that this wolf is a person who has influenced Kotoko a lot. It is the one thing that pushes her continue with this, to continue with the cycle of cruelty and violence in her act of handing out her own form of justice. And that brings me to Kotoko's jacket again.

The Red/Pink Jacket:

I want to address the difference between Kotoko's jacket in her forest world, as opposed to it in the real world. In the forest world, we see that the jacket is more of a hot pinkish color.

I'm not sure if this is fully because of the lighting, but the color difference for the jacket is very notable if you compare them side by side. In the real world, the jacket is clearly more red than pink:

So why make this jacket be two different colors in two different places? Well, I'd like to theorize that the answer has to do with this girl that appears for a brief few seconds in HARROW, in the flashback sequence while Kotoko is beating up the child kidnapper dude.

Or as I like to call her: PINK SHIRT GIRL ✨

One final thing I wanted to talk about is how this girl relates to Kotoko, the different colors for her same jacket in the MV, and the sole reason why I think she wears a pink shirt. A lot of people have speculated that this girl is a younger version of Kotoko, possibly back when she was a child. Pink for Kotoko seems to emphasize her ideals at their most pure level.

When Kotoko is wearing her jacket when it's pink, she's in her forest world that emphasizes Kotoko's purpose in protecting the weak. She's emotional there, she falters, worn out by the running and desperate to continue going. There is nothing shown in those scenes that shows her childlike ideals being tainted, yet.

But when Kotoko alludes to her self-hatred and the wolf urges her to go on with the attack, HARROW switches back to the real world where the jacket is red. We Kotoko smile after she presumably kills the child kidnapper guy as she declares that she wants to be "drowning in the knowledge that [she] is right", and thus, this seems like we the audience realize this is the moment when Kotoko's ideals begin to become more distorted than how they were presented in the forest world.

We see that she finally gains a satisfaction that everything that she did wasn't for completely nothing, and that she now has the purpose that makes her existence useful. While she does want to protect the weak and give out justice, it is not entirely motivated by altruism, as HARROW points out. When Kotoko's pink jacket becomes red, it seems to signify how her pure, child-like ideals become tainted and much more flawed compared to them initially.

This, along with Kotoko having the wolf as her companion, all seem to point at just how much Kotoko herself has become the very monsters she wanted to destroy. The child-like pink has now become a red stained with blood, or rather a shade of magenta. A mix of red and pink that highlights Kotoko's immature and child-like view of a black and white world, while also noting that Kotoko is not the innocent Little Red Riding Hood she once was anymore—

She is the wolf. She is a Red Riding Hood who has been led on by the wolf's ideals, the prey that has been ensnared and eaten by the wolf at the end of the original Charles Perrault story.

She is the wolf, the monster now.

She is now the sinner she hates so much.

Sources:

https://journals.openedition.org/strenae/6423 This one is the Red Riding Hood clothing analysis!

https://core.ecu.edu/parillek/littleredcinder.pdf "Little Red Riding Hood" Charles Perrault version

https://medium.com/@monsterahelpful/the-symbolism-and-history-behind-the-monstera-leaf-unveiling-its-meaning-11ba828837c2 Monstera Deliciosa symbolism!

https://twitter.com/pug_maniac/status/1735912110423732687 Yamanaka's tweet for Kotoko's birthday flower!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Red_Riding_Hood The Wikipedia page for Little Red Riding Hood! This also contains the heavier themes I was talking about in the beginning, so if you want to find out more, they have a whole section about it here. Trigger Warnings for sexual assault and rape for this Wikipedia page.

https://youtu.be/VrAW8zyoEiY?si=a3p4nb8B1TTza-x_ Translation video for Kotoko's first voice drama, Task.

https://youtu.be/_gTTtS0Fvxk?si=Y1Zwu3XOI_nRHgex HARROW MV

Also I'd love to read more analyses if anyone writes them, especially on topics I avoided, so tag me if you write any!!!

[six-improbable-things]

I just finished The Traitor Baru Cormorant, and holy fucking shit. I’m going to be haunted for a WHILE about this one. I was so invested…

If you support Women’s Wrongs and like protagonists who are definitely not the good guys, and want to be emotionally destroyed at least 8 times, highly recommend. (Also if you like political intrigue and stories about characters leading rebellions that actually look at what it takes (mentally, physically, financially, all of it) to lead a rebellion.)

(Very heavy tw for colonial bullshit and all that entails if you choose to read the book. (Eugenics, forced sterilization, homophobia and conversion therapy, torture, brainwashing/extreme conditioning, and allusions to corrective rape, among other things.))

Baru, Baru, Baru…. What can I possibly say other than “fuck you”. (/pos) Every time I got attached to one of your companions, they died. (BY YOUR HAND.)

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Fifteen

Masterlist

AO3 link

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, discussion of past suicide, discussion of parent death (suicide, house fire), mention of scars (Daryl's), medical procedure (stitches), blood, allusion to child abuse (Daryl's), men being creepy, reference to sibling death, we got some big emotions in this one

Word count: 3.3k

Daryl and I began to get much closer after that second run. Eating dinner together became sort of a ritual of ours, other than the nights Daryl had duty in the watchtower. At first, it was him in the chair and me on the far end of the couch as I didn’t want to spook him. He never explicitly said it, but I got the vibe that he wasn’t big on physical touch. He always maintained at least a few feet distance between us, never getting too close. Eventually, I tested the waters and sat on the end of the couch closer to him, and that’d been our dinner arrangement ever since. Over the next few weeks, Rick had us go out on more runs. It was strange to me that I always heard about them from Daryl and never from Rick. I didn’t want to do anything that could get me in trouble, like leaving the sanctity of the walls when I wasn’t supposed to, but I was simply following instructions that I was told came from our fearless cowboy leader.

I joined Daryl once when he was working on his bike, and he showed me some stuff about it. Though he was so beautiful that day, I’ll admit, it was hard for me to keep focus. He was wearing one of his classic button-ups with the sleeves cut off, that angel-wing vest he loved so much, and a pair of ripped jeans that hugged his body just right. It was warm, so he was sweating buckets. I was practically drooling as I watched his arm muscles flex and relax as he worked. The way he glistened with sweat, the little hints of joy I heard in his voice as he talked to me about his motorcycle, his gorgeous accent…he was mesmerizing.

He still came and checked on me every night after I fell out of bed, another ritual of ours I suppose. It had evolved to a point where I would stay lying on the floor and give a thumbs up over the side of the bed when I heard the door open, then he’d leave. We’d sometimes spend mornings together, but usually one of us was always up and out before the other was awake, or if Daryl had overnight watch, he’d be just going to sleep when I got up. Typically, the one who got up first made coffee and left the rest out for the other. Sometimes, if he was coming back from an overnight watch, I’d wake up and go downstairs to find the pot just finishing up brewing.

It was obvious one of Daryl’s love languages was acts of service. He didn’t so much have a way with words, but damn he was good at showing how much he cared. Not just towards me, but the way he cared about the whole of Alexandria. He was always volunteering to go on watch, runs, hunts, you name it. He cared so much about the people here and would do whatever he needed to do to make sure we were all safe and protected. And that only made me fall for him even harder.

Though he typically wasn’t one for expressing his emotions with words, there was one morning when he left me a note. I came downstairs, and he was already out as he had gate duty all day. He had poured me coffee in a white mug with daisies on it that I once casually mentioned was my favorite mug of the ones in the cabinet, and there was a short but sweet note with it.

Have the best day

See you at dinner

I kept the note folded up in the back of my notebook where I kept some photos and a note from my brother.

Today, Daryl was teaching me how to hunt. Well, it was the start of that process. First, there was target practice. And I was getting to pick up and shoot that infamous crossbow.

Daryl had carved an X for a target on a tree, and my goal was to hit as dead center as I could. I knelt on one knee behind a fallen tree, which I was instructed to use to steady the crossbow and practice that way first. I could throw a knife over my shoulder and hit a walker square in the forehead. How hard could a crossbow be?

“Does this thing have recoil?” I asked as he handed it to me, “wow, it’s lighter than I thought it’d be.” I flipped the bow around and examined it, running my fingers over its smooth surface but was careful to make sure I didn’t touch anything that looked like a lever or a button. Didn’t wanna go causing any accidents right out the gate.

“Hardly any,” Daryl said, kneeling next to me. We were almost shoulder-to-shoulder. This was the closest we’d ever been, and I could feel the butterflies in my stomach breaking free and trying to crawl their way up my throat.

“You ever kill anyone with this thing?” I asked.

“Yeah. Sometimes, people are more dangerous than them walkers,” he explained, and I nodded. I was all too familiar with the dangers of other human beings during the end of the world.

“I know what you mean,” I replied. I rested the bow on the fallen tree and kept my gaze on the X carved into the tree in front of me. “I’ve never killed anyone. I don’t know if I could. It goes against the oath I took.”

"Hate to burst your bubble, but that don't matter no more."

“I guess not,” I shrugged, “but enough of that, let’s get to practicing.”

“‘lax your shoulders,” he said, gently placing his hands on both of my shoulders and lightly pressing to help me relax them. This was the first time he’d touched me on purpose. My stomach dropped like I was on a rollercoaster. “Geez, you’re tense woman.”

I wouldn’t be so tense if you didn’t make me so nervous, I thought. I propped the crossbow up onto my shoulder like I’d seen Daryl do a thousand times.

“It’s no good if ya don’t load it,” he said. He picked a bolt off of the front of it and reached around me to load it. His arm rested against my back as he strapped the bolt in. It was like he was testing the boundaries of physical closeness, though I didn’t know whether it was mine or his that he was testing. But I didn’t mind one bit. I steadied the bow on my shoulder and the fallen tree, aiming it at my target.

“Ya really gotta relax,” Daryl said, “can’t have this gettin’ in the way neither.” He took the end of my ponytail and draped my hair over my opposite shoulder, “damn, ya hair’s real soft.” I felt myself melting into a puddle, and my hands started to shake a bit as my heart rate picked up.

“Thank you. I grew it all by myself,” I laughed.

“How long'd it take ya to grow it out?”

“Oh God, I think the last time I got a drastic haircut was when I was like 13,”  I explained, “sometimes I think about chopping it all off because it gets in my way so much. And it feels like it weighs 20 pounds when it’s wet.”

“Ya should keep it long. Looks good.” I smiled and looked down at the ground, trying to hide that I was obviously turning red.

“Thanks,” I said. I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself again.

“Hey, you’re shakin’,” Daryl said, placing a hand on my shoulder in an effort to help me relax, “just take a breath. You’re good.” His voice was soft, soothing, and calming. Still laced with his gravely accent, but there was genuine caring and compassion behind his words.

“Nervous jitters I guess,” I said, taking another deep breath in through my nose. I lied straight through my teeth.

“Alright, look through the scope and aim it at the target,” he said. He kept his hand on my shoulder.

“Looks easy enough,” I said, perhaps a little too confidently as I did as he instructed.

“Once ya got it lined up, ya just pull the lever on the bottom,” Daryl explained, “helps if ya breathe out when ya do it.” I took a deep breath and fired, exhaling like he told me to. The bolt went flying right past the tree, not even grazing it. It landed far off in the grass somewhere I couldn’t see.

“I stand corrected on it looking easy,” I said, feeling horrifically embarrassed, “I missed the tree completely. How did I even do that?”

“It happens. Gotta get used to holdin’ it still. C’mon, I’ll show ya how to load it.” He gestured for me to hand his bow to him.

“At this point, I’ll just be happy to hit the tree at all,” I said, giggling a little to try to make myself feel better.

That’s how we spent the next couple of hours. Me attempting to hit the tree, somehow missing it completely or just grazing it, which was starting to feel like a win, and trying to find the bolts in the grass. He never seemed to get impatient or frustrated with me, even when I was starting to get frustrated with myself. He reassured me, helped me set up and reload, and tried to help me feel more confident.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally did it. I hit the very outskirts of the giant X target, but I hit it nonetheless. I about jumped into the air with how excited I was.

“Oh my God, I did it!” I cheered, nearly dropping the crossbow to the ground in surprise. A gigantic grin spread across my face as I looked at Daryl. “I did it!”

“Knew ya could do it,” he congratulated. He had reached out and was stroking the back of my arm with his fingers. His touch was so light, it felt like being tickled with a feather. I could feel goosebumps forming, but thankfully, my sleeve hid them. “Think that’s the first time I seen ya do that too.”

I looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Seen me do what?”

“Smile like that.” It occurred to me that he was referring to the fact that I was smiling with my teeth out. And he was right—this was the first time I’d smiled like that in months.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That evening, I found myself working late in the infirmary. A couple of the kids had gotten into a fight, and while their injuries weren’t too bad, they still required attention. A couple of scraped knees and small cuts later, I was supposed to be going home for the evening, but as I was getting ready to leave, the infirmary door swung open one last time, and in came Daryl. He’d been covering gate duty for a couple of hours, and I figured he must’ve seen the infirmary light on and came to check on me.

“Hey, there’s my little Georgia peach,” I said, giving him a big smile. He looked at me with a solemn face, which concerned me a little. “Daryl…are you ok?” He didn’t say anything at first. He simply kept eye contact with me as he stepped closer.

“I, uh, need your help with somethin’,” he said. He took his bow off of his back and turned around. There was a sizable gash across his mid-back, his clothes stained with dried blood.

“Jesus, get your ass up here,” I ordered, gesturing to the exam table. I started grabbing things like gloves and antiseptic. “What the hell happened?”

“Couple of ‘em pricks was talkin’ ‘bout ya,” he said as he sat down on the table and scooted back to the edge. I froze and swallowed hard. I hadn’t really gotten to know any of the men who typically had gate duty, and the only times I saw them were when I was coming and going through the gate, and I was always with Daryl.

“You got this defending me? Jesus, I’m so sorry. I feel awful.” I continued grabbing everything I would need, like cotton pads, medical tape, tools for stitches, and antibiotics.

“Nah, jackasses had it comin’.”

“What did you do to them?”

“Roughed ‘em up a bit. Let ‘em know not to say nothin’ like that ‘gain,” Daryl explained.

“Do I wanna know what they were saying about me?”

“Probably not. Bein’ a buncha creeps.” The never-ending list of things they could’ve been saying swirled through my mind, and I felt sick. I suppressed the nausea that quickly made its home in my stomach.

“Great. Just when I was starting to feel safe here,” I sighed. I thought I’d finally found a place away from the prying eyes of creepy men, but unfortunately, I was wrong.

Daryl looked back over his shoulder at me with kind eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t let ‘em give ya any trouble.” I gave him a smile and a nod.

“Alright, I need you to take your shirt off. Then I’m gonna clean it and stitch it up. I’ll talk you through each step so you know what to expect since you can’t see it,” I explained. I slipped my gloves on after washing my hands thoroughly and scooted a stool over with my foot so I would sit higher up. Daryl fidgeted a little on the table, and he seemed nervous. I could tell he was in pain from his injury, but something else seemed to be bothering him.

“If you’re not comfortable taking your shirt off, that’s ok. I just need you to lift it enough so I can work,” I said, “don’t wanna go stitching your shirt to your back.” To my surprise, he lifted his shirt up and off over his head, letting it slide down his arms into his lap.

When he did, I understood why I’d never seen Daryl shirtless before.

There were scars all across his back. Not the kind of scars you’d get from being in a motorcycle or car accident, or burn scars, or from taking a really bad tumble as a kid. No, these scars were intentionally inflicted by another person. My heart shattered, but I kept my composure.

How could someone do something so awful to someone so good?

I made sure to utilize my calming bedside manner voice. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about. I have seen anything you can possibly imagine. Plus, I have scars of my own. I know better than to ask about anyone else's."

I grabbed a cloth soaked with some warm water so I could clean up some of the dried blood, and I gently started rubbing it on his back. “I’m gonna try to get as much of this dried blood off as I can.” He tensed a little bit under my touch, so I tried my best to be even lighter, but I could only press so lightly while still getting the blood off. I decided to clean just enough around the wound to make the process quicker, and he could take care of the rest when he showered.

“Alright, I have to clean it now so it won’t get infected. I won’t lie, this is going to sting a little. But I’m just taking a cotton pad with some antiseptic and patting around it,” I explained. I started patting his wound with the cotton pad, and he flinched just a tiny bit. I placed my other hand on his arm and stroked it gently with my thumb. “Hey, you’re ok. You’re doing great.” As I stroked his arm, I felt him start to relax.

My heart was breaking for him. The sensation of the antiseptic in his open wound must’ve felt similar to whatever created the scars on his back. I tried to think of something to talk about to distract him.

“I like your tattoo, Daryl,” I said, “does it mean anything?”

“Jus’ thought it looked cool,” he replied.

“I actually have a few tattoos of my own,” I told him, “I know, there’s something you didn’t know about me. I have a sternum piece with flowers on it, bumblebees on the back of each of my thighs, and a bouquet of daisies on the front of my right hip. I liked the idea of having tattoos that only certain people get to see. People that I get to choose." I hoped that, maybe one day, I’d get to show Daryl my tattoos. I set the cotton pad on the table next to him. “I’m done cleaning it now. Could you straighten up for me? I’m gonna stitch it up now. It’ll probably hurt a little, but it won’t burn like the antiseptic did.”

"They mean anythin'?" he asked as he sat up straight.

"I really like sternum pieces, so that's why I got that one. Daisies are my favorite flower, and the bumblebees are for my mom.” I got to work stitching him up as I talked. “Gardening was her favorite hobby, and we had a huge one in our backyard growing up. She taught my brothers and I about the different kinds of pollinators and how important they were. Bumblebees were her favorite. I got them a couple of years after she passed.”

“Lost my mom too,” Daryl said. It was the first time he’d mentioned his mom in any capacity. “What happened to her? If you’re ok talkin’ ‘bout it.”

“She umm…she killed herself a couple of months after Preston died. Hung herself in his closet. My dad was the one that found her.” I blinked back some tears. Stitching up someone’s wound was not the time to be crying. “Her mental health really declined after his passing. I mean, all of ours did, but hers was the worst. She couldn't stand losing one of her children, so she left the other three behind. At least that's what it felt like. The anger stage of my grief lasted a very, very long time.”

There was a heaviness that hung in the air as I finished stitching his wound. It felt suffocating, like it was a heavy weight pressing on my chest. I lowered the volume of my voice a little to keep myself from crying. “Alright, I’ve just gotta wrap it up and you’re done.”

“Mine was a house fire,” he started to explain, and as he talked, I continued wrapping his wound, using as gentle of a touch as I could and offering small comforting pats and strokes in between. I felt his muscles continue to relax into my hands as I worked. “I was a kid. Ran home after we saw fire trucks comin’ down the street. Finally caught up to the other kids and saw it was my house. Mom was inside. Some combo of her wine ’n smokes. Didn’t feel real for a long time.” Before I finished patching him up, I ran my hands over the back of his arms and offered small squeezes, like tiny hugs from my fingers. This was by far the most vulnerable he’d been around me, and I wanted to make sure he felt safe, seen, and comforted.

“I’m so sorry Daryl. You didn’t deserve for that to happen.”

"Didn’t deserve yours neither.” I ran my fingers over and flattened out the last piece of medical tape.

“There we go, you’re all patched up now,” I said, grabbing a small bottle of antibiotics and handing it to him. “you’ll have to change the dressing every day. I can help you with that. And you’ll have to take those for like a week. Make sure you stay on top of that.”

“Do I gotta? Didn’t think it was that bad,” he said, flipping the little orange bottle around in his hand.

I sat myself up on the exam table next to him, “Daryl, what kind of doctor would I be if I let you get an infection?”

Taglist: @raddydaddydude

[angel-of-the-moons]

Nothing Is Lost

Khonahu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Mentions of drugging/roofies, allusions to rape but nothing happens, murder, kidnappings references, Khonshu being an asshole but one who won't just leave you hanging, Reader gets her baby wings!

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Thanks to everyone who voted in the poll! Just a reminder; every single variation had hints as to what's happened in the past; and little Easter eggs >:3.

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu @astrosphereblog @themostegotisticalgirl124 @patchesofwork @lialiwasneverseen

Chapter 14:

Starting Lessons

"Try again." Khonshu sighed boredly, resting his long beak on his knuckles as he sat on the boulder nearby.

You panted, your body sagging with exhaustion as you glared at him, "Alright, you goddamn vulture!" You wiped some sweat from your brow. The cheeky old fucker gave you his staff to practice with, and your arms were tired.

The inherent magical properties helped focus your magic as if under a magnifying glass, helping you figure out the right "flow" that best suited you, Khonshu had told you. It was going to be used as a tool to focus your skills until you didn't need the "crutch" anymore. Until you could weave spells and cast them with your own hands.

"This fucking thing is heavy." You wheezed, callously letting the golden moon at the head dip into the soil and snow, scratching a groove in the snow to reveal the dark earth beneath.

Khonshu rolled his head a bit--if he had eyes, you knew he'd have been rolling them--and stood up with a raspy grumble, "Whiny little runt." He calls you.

Every lumbering step he took only made your irritation grow, even as he stood before you in his full imposing height.

"What more do you want from me?" You groused, not backing down. You didn't even so much as flinch when he leaned down, invading your personal space.

He reached out with a large, long finger and tapped the staff; and instantly it felt lighter. Almost the same weight as the broom you usually pushed at work.

"There. Will you stop your whining?" He scoffed as he leaned back again.

You lifted the staff and drop it a few times, gawking, your mouth agape. "You're telling me you could have done that the whole time??" You look back up at him, "Why didn't you lead with that?!"

"You did not ask." He stated with a casual shrug, returning to sit on his boulder.

"And, aren't you concerned at all about anyone seeing us?" You asked, sweeping your arm out before you. You two were sitting in the middle of Central Park. Yeah, it was half past midnight... But there were plenty of homeless people and police that walked the park at night.

Hell, even the wayward superhero or two...

It was as if Khonshu could pick your thoughts out of thin air; "I placed a ward. Nobody will see us if I do not let them. Not even that sorcerer, Strange."

"Strange? As in Doctor Strange?" You gasped.

"Of course. Do you have rocks in your ears?" He asked, tipping his head to the side. The bastard.

"I'm not deaf." You hissed, your hands tightening around the ancient staff in your grip.

"Then why ask obvious questions? Now--again. Trace the rune I showed you."

You groaned loudly and sighed in defeat, holding the staff out like you were going to stab the air.

Now, the rune went like--

"Gah. Widen your stance. If you cast it improperly you will be thrown aside." Khonshu scolded, waving his hand. You widened your feet, twisting the staff in your grip.

But apparently, that wasn't what he wanted. It was obvious when he got up once again, muttering beneath hushed breaths as he marched back up to you. He reached out to you, spreading your hands down the shaft much wider than before. Then, with one of his feet, nudged one of yours until you are standing, wide-legged.

He put his hand in between your shoulders and pressed lightly so you hunched inwards just a bit--the staff now in a perfect position to guard your upper body if you were struck.

However, you were flustered--and not in the fun way--when he just... did that to you. He didn't seem to notice, or even care, at all as he stepped back away.

"There. Now," Khonshu sighed, sounding as though he were a disappointed father scolding his child.

"Again."

Your shoulders ached. Your back ached. Your legs ached. Your everything ached.

"Motherfucking--bitch ass bird-headed bitch." You grunted under your breath.

Your jerked forwards and stumble, earning a few weird looks from two women leaving the bar you'd passed. They couldn't see what you felt, however. Or hear what you heard.

What you felt was a hefty smack to the back of your head--like a parent brain-dusting their rowdy child for causing a ruckus in a church--and what you heard was a rather snide voice:

"You will learn respect, you little pest."

"Go get bent, you old bastard." You muttered, shoving your hands in your pockets with a huff.

You felt a chill slip down your spine as a lock of your hair was pinched and twisted back. Almost like a child pulling their sibling's hair. You wondered, honestly, why Khonshu didn't do more.

If he hated this so much, surely someone with his god-forsaken ego would lurch at the chance to abuse their power? Hell, someone with his powers in general... should have abused them by now, right? So, why...

That's when it hit you. It wasn't that he didn't want to...

He couldn't. Something was stopping him. That had to be it, right? What, you wondered, could stop a literal god from--

"Go back to that bar." He commanded suddenly.

"As much as I'd like to drink, Khonshu, I'm going home to go to sleep." You sighed, shaking your head.

Your jacket was yanked on, making you stumble back and almost fall on your ass into the slushy snow. "What the hell--"

"This is not a request. Do not order anything alcoholic." He hissed at you.

Though you couldn't see him, you knew he was hovering; judging by the chill that so easily penetrated your otherwise warm clothes. What was his damn deal? Why was he so insistent that you go into this hole-in-the-wall?

"Why?" You grumbled. "What's so interesting about--"

"Do not question me!" He hissed, shoving you back towards the bar. "I will instruct you in what to do. Now go!"

You grunted in frustration, but relented. If it got the old bastard to shut the hell up, you supposed you could at least grab something sweet to boost your mood...

The bar stunk. It smelled of body odor from the old bikers and few homeless who were pissing away their few bucks for some liquor; as well as the sickly-sweet scent of marijuana and cigarette smoke.

The latter normally wouldn't have bothered you overmuch--but combined with the smell of spilled liquor (and even a hint of someone having pissed themselves, or thrown up on their own clothes) it had you nearly nauseated.

You shouldered your way through the noisy, rambunctious crowd. You felt a gnawing pit form in your stomach because you knew eyes were on you.

You'd never been to this bar before; this was unfamiliar territory for you, and you feared it brought you the wrong kind of attention... What was the old man thinking?

You awkwardly sit in the bar stool; the seat cracked and the stuffing poking out as it squeaked and creaked under your weight. The older woman behind the bar has a cigarette hanging out of her mouth--and you having worked at previous bars knew that was a big no-no, that it was not only a safety hazard, but also a sanitary one--as she was cleaning out a pint glass with a ratty cloth.

You suppressed your urge to shudder at how gnarly it looked and smiled politely at her, "Do you have a drink menu?"

She laughed, her voice slightly scratchy, "The hell kinda place you think this is, toots? Do we look like a bougie-ass cocktail club?"

You smiled thinly, the corner of your mouth twitching in irritation--customer service was clearly not high on this woman's purview. Not that you enjoyed it yourself back in your days as a bartender; but you knew that ensuring your patrons were happy and had fun were great ways to get big tips. This woman on the other hand, didn't care.

"Um--can I have a virgin daiquiri, please?"

Her nose crinkled and she flicked her cigarette ash into a nearby tray, "You come to a bar and order something with no booze? You a church girl?"

"Ha... I suppose you could say that, now..." You reply stiffly, your fingers tapping the sticky countertop. You didn't want to even think about how long it had been since the damn thing had been properly cleaned and disinfected...

"Gah, fine, girly." She turned, looking for the proper mixers and glass. She eyed you over her shoulder, quirking a thin, penciled-on eyebrow at you, "You want strawberry or peach? 's all we got, sweet cheeks."

"Ah... Peach is fine."

"Riiiiiiiight." She replied with a short, going to mix your drink.

"Basic bitch." You heard her mutter under her breath.

You gritted your teeth; feeling eyes take over your body and making goosebumps creep up your spine and making your hairs stand on end. You have a casual look around the bar and spot a small table with three men and one woman.

One of the men had their arm around the girl, laughing obnoxiously in her ear at something one of his friends said. You weren't sure why, but something had you on edge.

Whomever was looking at you before, didn't seem to be doing it, now. But the uneasy feeling didn't subside.

"Do not panic," Khonshu's voice murmured in your ear. "I am here. I will talk you through this."

You sucked in a tight breath and let it out, relaxing your posture a bit. Despite being annoyed at how he had been invading your personal bubble the past few whatever-it-had-been at this point... you were thankful you weren't currently alone in no-man's land.

She slid the drink to you, the contents sloshing a bit, no ice cubes to keep the drink chilled. Most places, you found, tended to serve them with ice by default. You yourself had yet to meet a person who liked them at room temperature.

"Thanks." You muttered, looking into the glass. You weren't sure yourself if you were thanking her or Khonshu for his reassurance.

She noticed how you stared at the drink and sneered, "Sorry if it's not to your likin', princess--but you didn't say if you wanted it on the rocks or not."

"Oh, don't worry--" You lie quickly, grabbing the drink and sipping it. It was sickeningly sweet. Too much mixer and syrup; the crushed peaches mixed in were bitter and unripe. "--It's fine."

"Yeah, I'll take your word for it." She says, rolling her eyes as you slip a few bills onto the counter--overpaying more to get her away from you than to be generous--and stuffing them into her bra. Again, another unsanitary thing that made you shudder.

You watch with disappointment as she takes shots with a few patrons, smiling and joking with them as opposed as to how cold and rude she was to you. Poor conduct, how on earth was this place still even in business? You had half a mind to report them to--

"The table you spotted before." Khonshu's voice said to you. "The men with the lone woman."

You casually spin your stool around, leaning back on the bar as you take a hefty swig of your drink, letting him continue as you discreetly glanced towards the party he mentioned.

The man hanging on the woman seemed to be getting too handsy with her--the poor thing looking like her skin was crawling from the way her nose scrunched.

"They intend to drug her." He told you, almost making you choke on your beverage. "You will stop them."

You turn back around and hunch over your drink, muttering, "Easy for you to say, old man. You're like, nine feet tall. I appreciate the confidence in my baby magic skills, but seriously--"

"You can do this task," He says matter-of-factly. "All you need to do is act inebriated. They do not know your drink isn't mind-altering. Nor do they know if you had been drinking elsewhere before coming here. They are not paying close enough attention to you to see you are able-minded."

That... made sense. But what were you...

Once more, he seemed to pluck your thoughts like low-hanging fruit: "Act as though you are nearly incapacitated. Drink your fill in one go to put on an effect. Spill the young woman's drink on her before the man has the opportunity to slip the drugs in her drink."

He paused a moment, allowing his words to absorb before continuing to speak to you once again, "You will leave this bar with them, and bring them to the alley past the next street corner. Continue to act inebriated. I will be with you the whole way, do not worry."

You shivered, adrenaline beginning to thread its way into your bloodstream when you feel Khonshu recede; as if he was the music that was being drowned out by the crowd in the bar. You fist your drink tightly before tipping your head back and shotgunning it, trying to get into your best "shit-faced" mode. You've never been the whole "blackout drunk" type; so you had to draw on from what you've seen firsthand from others as well as online.

You pretend to be unsteady on your feet, wobbling as you step off of your stool, beginning to sing along to the radio in off-key, slurred speaking--even going so far as to pretend to hiccup and wretch--as you made their way over to their table.

Their demeanor shifts as you close in, the men becoming guarded as you approach them on shaky feet.

"Heyyyy!" You croon, slipping your arm around the woman's shoulders, knocking into her and discreetly tipping the glass of bright, cherry red cocktail onto her nice pastel pink top.

She gasped and immediately pulled away, her mouth agape as you cover your mouth and overdramatic shock, "Ohhh! I thought you were my fr--frriend!" You say, trying to wipe at the stain, only making it worse, "I'm sh-sorry!"

"Ah! I don't know you! You ruined my--" She whined, her pained expression making you feel very guilty. You could tell that was probably her favorite too; one she would now have to throw away because of this stunt you were pulling.

"I--I'm gonna go to the bathroom." She groans, turning to stomp away towards the back, her leather boots squeaking on the floor.

You turned to the mean, swaying slightly as you pouted, "I jus' thought she was my frien'.... was s'posed to meet me here after I left tha other place..."

You felt a disgusting viper strike at the inside of your belly when the men shared looks and toothy grins, "Ah, well," The oldest one said, adjusting his flaking faux-leather jacket. The prick was trying too hard to lean into the 80s greaser stereotypical biker look, and the smell of whatever disgusting cologne had you wanting to blow your nose all over that shitty Walmart-brand plastic jacket of his.

"Hey, you're here, now, baby." He continued, slipping his arm around you, instantly making your fear spike and your mind struggling to fight your "fight or flight" mode. "Come on, party with us. We'll keep you company, right boys?"

His two friends nod, raising their beers and drinking messily with laughter; the way their eyes gleamed at a conquest--willing or otherwise--made panic rise in your gut.

"Calm down. You are not alone. Play into your role." Khonshu's voice rumbled to you, "They will not harm you. They will be lucky to survive what you will do to them."

You kind of hated that what he was saying sat right with you--you weren't really the "beat someone within an inch of their life" kind of person. Even when it came to self-defense. You believed in incapacitating them long enough to get away. But if what Khonshu said was true, about their intentions with that poor women...

Rapists of any kind deserved to be castrated. Among other nasty and violent things you fantasized about when you'd heard horror stories from other women--hell, even the things you saw on Law & Order--and from what you yourself had narrowly dodged.

The viper in your belly calmed somewhat; a fiery rage it began to coil around for warmth took precedence.

"What d'you say we take our party somewhere else? I know a bar with waaaaay better drinks than the shit Tilly serves." The man holding you said in your ear, his breath slimy as it dropped down the sweaty skin on your neck.

"Okay..." You replied out loud, keeping up your drunken facade--you could just barely make out a shadow passing over the table, the silhouette undeniable.

"Aaron, pay the tab." He ordered, swinging you around to head towards the door, his other friend following quickly, leaving the third behind to rush up to the bar and pay before following suit.

The cold outside immediately hit you; making you shudder.

Even the typical stench of the city that you'd become accustomed to was more welcome than the oppressive scents in that dive. You let the men continue to lead you, subtly influencing their steps as you followed the route Khonshu instructed you in.

And, he was right. Past the stop sigh at the corner, there was an alley that was lit by a nearly burnt out light to your immediate left.

You took the opportunity to lurch forward, pretending to get nauseous and gag. This didn't seem to deter the men, even as you fled to the alley to curl over the nearest trash can.

Like stupid lemmings, they followed you.

And predictably, one of them grabbed you and pushed you up against a nearby wall, his hand gripping your jaw tightly as your heart sped up; beating against your ribs like a frantic animal.

"Press your index finger to his chest and trace the rune I showed you earlier. Flick your wrist like you are swatting a fly."

You do as he says quickly, your finger shaky and snagging on his jacket as you do, but you manage to trace the rune--the symbol faint and golden as it hung in the air between you. Your assailant looked down at it, his brows furrowed.

Before he could process what was happening, you flicked your wrist out and watched as he went flying out into the street, slamming into a nearby car hard enough to deny the metal; the alarm blaring viciously loud in the cold night air.

"Holy shit." You breathed, staring at your hands in sheer awe. The adrenaline was pumping like a powerful drug within you and you turned, getting into a ready stance like Khonshu had bullied you into practicing. Yes, you didn't have that obnoxious staff, but it made you feel more steady on your feet as the other two rushed at you.

Time slowed almost to a crawl as Khonshu instructed you once again, "Curl your thumb into your palm and thrust your hand out, after that, duck and roll away. Do it, now!"

You took in a sharp inhale, and right as the men reach your space, you reached out for the closest one; thrusting your palm out and shuddering at the sound of bones cracking beneath an unseen force. He didn't go flying like the first one, instead he fell to his knees, gasping desperately for air and clutching his body gingerly.

When the other man swung his fist out to punch you, you ducked down, spinning into a roll; the icy slush helping it be more fluid than it would have been any other day--albeit messy--and watch as he stumbles, crashing into the wall you were just in front of, your chest heaving with heavy breaths as you watched his friend collapse into unconsciousness.

"Rise to your feet and kick between his legs--" Khonshu quickly instructed you, "Then I want you to slam the heel of your palm into his face."

You rose to stand with a slight bounce on your heels, trying to stay light on your feet as the man turned to glare at you, "You little bitch! When I'm done with you, you'll be beggin' for--"

You cut him off by swinging your leg up as hard as you could, right into his groin--feeling a sick sense of satisfaction as his voice left him in a strained wheeze. You squeezed your fingers together and when he fell to his knees to look up at you accusingly, you slammed the your hand up into his nose, the crunch of bones once again assailing your ears and the coppery scent of blood filling your nostrils as he fell onto his ass and into the dirty snow and ice.

He spat out a glob of blood, shakily climbing to his feet as his eyes narrowed on you in pure blind fury; "You fuckin' little whore! I'm just gonna fucking kill ya!"

"Fuck you!" You spat back, your palms itching furiously, the faint glow coming from beneath your skin again.

"Now, trace the--"

You didn't give Khonshu the chance to finish speaking. You balled your fist and punched as hard as you could, sending his head knocking sideways with a gnarly twist; unbeknownst to you, severing his spinal cord.

As soon as he tumbled down into a limp heap, you surveyed the carnage you wrought with Khonshu's guidance. The adrenaline giving way to pure euphoria, and the knowledge that you'd very likely saved a woman from being brutalized, traumatized--or even worse--making your heart and mind soar with the feeling.

"Ah..." You sighed, your voice shaky as everything soaks in. Khonshu appears before you, nudging the last corpse with distaste.

"I did not tell you to--"

"Ah--HAH! Hahahah!" You began to laugh hysterically, bouncing on your feet as you ran your fingers through your hair, spinning in place.

You stomped your feet, pointing at the bodies both dead and unconscious-- "Fuuuuck! You!"

You looked up at Khonshu, your eyes wide as you pointed, "I did that! Me! I did!"

"Yes, you needn't prance about like a cat bringing home a dead bird." Khonshu sighed at you.

"I--! I just--I fucking saved somebody, and..." You felt your body lurch from within--like you were on an elevator that came to a sudden stop.

"I--I did--I did--I--!" You wobbled on your feet as Khonshu turned to stare at you. You felt something warm and wet drip down your face.

You swiped at it and stared at the bright red blood on your sleeve that continued to drip steadily from your nostrils.

"I... Oh, that doesn't look too--"

The last thing you were aware of was Khonshu leaping towards you in a blur, and then--nothing.

Khonshu sighed as your body went limp in his arms. He cradled you as though you were comparable to a sack of rubbish; hanging off of him in sheer dead weight.

You learned quickly, it seemed. It was both relieving to know and frustrating at the same time. Relieving because it meant he would not need to tutor you overlong in the ways of ancient magic--frustrating because you so quickly took to it that you became overconfident in your own abilities and knocked yourself out.

"Troublesome little pest." Khonshu muttered, looking around at the scene you'd created--painting some of the dirty white with bright red--some of it your own.

Yes... you may have overworked yourself. But you did do a good job of following his instructions up to that point, saving that woman the men had planned to essentially torture.

Khonshu adjusted his grip on you, brushing the blood rivulets from your face with his wrapped fingers.

The car alarm finally silenced, and Khonshu was aware of frantic shouting heard--the young woman and others. The siren of a police car could be heard getting closer and closer.

"Hurry!" He heard the woman shout. "I think I saw them drag her this way!"

He leapt up into the sky, perching with you still draped in his arm as he watches the woman scream, her mouth agape in horror at the scene as several other concerned patrons and citizens rushed into the alley where you had been moments before.

Khonshu huffed to himself, feeling pride in the fact that there were still some people willing to come to the aid of strangers who needed or--or at least, whom they thought needed it.

Justice, he felt, was served this night. The young woman could go home safe, only mourning the loss of her shirt. The men you had felt watching you were not sizing you up out of malicious intent--but because they saw a young woman alone in the dead of night in an unfamiliar location. They were concerned for your safety.

Bodies were collected, the living transported to the hospital.

Khonshu knew the mortals would find out that the men you'd fought had careers stretching well into their youths. They had become so confident in their abilities that they willingly left DNA in the women and young girls they would drug and abduct--and in some cases, killing and dumping.

The city would rest easier from now on, knowing three monsters had been dealt with. Justice had been served.

The first thing you were aware of was the feeling of sand beneath your feet; the grains shifting to flutter over your skin and slide between your toes.

Your breath leaves you in a ragged gasp as you look up, and see the walls of a narrow canyon stretch for untold lengths up into the sky--the faint ribbon of blue almost invisible from how high it was from you. You look ahead, and behind, nothing but the rocks and sand to greet you.

Your feet feel like lead weights as you walk on into the canyon; "H-Hello?" You called out desperately, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Is anybody there?"

The further you walked, the colder it got and the more the canyon seemed to close in on you. When the canyon began to squeeze down on your shoulders, you turned to try and flee back the way you came; panicked and scared.

But, the way had changed. It was just as narrow as the way you had been headed. You felt a sob creep into your throat as you pressed on; headed forward once again, no choice but to endure as it squeezed you more, and more, and more...

Until you couldn't breathe. You flailed, and screamed, trying to get something--somebody--to come and save you.

But your squirming only made it worse; you felt the sand shift beneath you, flooding the canyon like water as gnarled, withered hands began poking out of the roiling dunes to claw at your skin, grabbing onto your dress and staining it with their dirty fingers.

You screamed again as the hands closed around your face, beginning to cover your nose and mouth, until only one of your tear-filled eyes stared at the sliver of sky above you.

And when you blinked, you were on your hands and knees in a temple.

You patted your body down, checking for any injury; and, upon finding none, you sighed with relief, staring up at the statue before you.

You say like that for however long had passed, watching as the paint and gold began to flake away into a decrepit, withered facsimile of what it had been moments before; blood dripping from the eyes and flowing like a stream towards you.

You panicked again, shuffling to your feet as you turned to run.

But as you did, something hit you so quickly it was a blur--the air punched from your lungs in a sharp gasp.

You retained your footing, and when you looked down you saw it. The blood from the statue running between your feet like a swollen creek breaching its banks, as red as the blood that seeped out and soaked through the white dress you were wearing; dripping down your body from where your belly had been so callously... stabbed? Sliced?

You didn't know, all you know is that you were frantic, trying to stop the bleeding even as you fell to your knees.

Your body was growing colder, your vision going dark around the edges as your essence seeped from you like a flood.

Everything around you sounded muffled, like you were under water.

You could just barely make out a voice, so soft and almost inaudible:

"I'm sorry. I do love you."

Chapter 15: Link