#like who the fuck are you to say something so horrid like its supposed to be funny. that's animal ABUSE and torture
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Poor Neo- Suppressed Spite...
why did he think that was normal, moral or funny to say?
#Poor Neo#webcomic#comic#furry art#no really why do disgusting people feel the need to jump into a conversation they are not invited to#and say something so shockingly terrible?#like who the fuck are you to say something so horrid like its supposed to be funny. that's animal ABUSE and torture
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A reverse human haram with a supernatural reader sounds so cute and dope
(I don't remember names so I apologize in advance)
But like the angel being a human business owner like an antique shop
Baron maybe being a tattoo artist? I feel like it'll fit him
And the reaper could be... Um.. maybe a hacker or something like that? Something that will let him stay inside all day and minimize human interaction.
And there's reader, some kind of a supernatural being, that maybe like going shopping in antiques shops, and getting tattooes... And going on the dark web? 💀
Or maybe the 3 humans already know each other and trying to track down this being for some reason?
Anyway, i just dig the idea:) could be really cute and I also miss those 3 😭
(I Stan librarian Maddox who just draws most of the time and panics when people talk to them)
"Can't one of us just ask them out for coffee? Even in the bizarre scenario they are what you claim, why would this be the best way to go about this?"
"Because your ugly ass would scare them away. Now shut the hell up and Mad give me the next step."
Maddox flips through the pages of the book positioned in their lap, producing a switchblade from their pocket. "All that's left now is a drop of blood from those who wish to form a contract. That's us, I suppose."
Baron, safety be damned, grabs the knife blade first - cupping the warm blood in his hand as he passes it to Alasdair. The shop owner was hesitant, but for the prize at hand he was desperate. He sticks his thumb and gives the knife back to Maddox who does the same.
Baron snorts, blood seeping from his closed fist onto his jeans. "What? Scared of a little nick?"
Alasdair rolls his eyes meanwhile Maddox ignores Baron's remarks as they get into position. What led them all to this situation? Two of them though on equal levels would never be seen together, and the alternative pairs worked as well as water and glue. The binding agent for their group was none other than a visitor shared between their place of business. Those keen eyes that marveled at the antique owner's precious collection of angels. That sweet smile peaking over the librarian's shoulder as they scribbled away behind their desk. The bubbly laughter that gave an ego boost to the tattoo owner and his horrid taste in fashion.
A person capable of bringing these opposites together had to be supernatural in nature, and in a way - you were. Baron discovered this while stalking you to the back alley behind their stores and witnessing you vanish from thin air. Doing more research than he ever had for school projects, Baron reasoned that you had to be a demon. He enlisted the help of Maddox to find a way to get your attention with Alasdair picked up along the way. He was skeptical as any Christian man would be, but since they were using his store for the summoning he had no say.
The trio bring their hands to the center of the circle on the floor and pour the contents onto the piece of your shirt Maddox managed to snip off. They squeeze the tip of their finger as apology and remain the last to pull away as the puddle of bloods turns black and begins to boil. The ground cracks and a skeletal hand reaches through, bones staining in the onyx sludge that creeps up its body creating layers of muscle and flesh. Crawling from the hole, the creature's tongues flicker against the hostile air as smog disburses from its throat. It cracks its jaw as it stands to full height, towering over them all - plucking a bone from its needlepoint fangs.
"That's the last time I try to finish something while being summoned."
Baron speaks up first. "Are... you naked?*
"If I'm not pretending to be a mortal there's no need to put on clothing... Don't I know you all?"
"that's so fucking hot... Ow, bitch!"
Alasdair clears his throat to play off the assault he committed on his peer. "I apologize for our barbaric approach. I'm sure this is as shocking for you as it is for us, but we have gathered here due to a shared interest in winning your heart."
You look around the room. "So.. you all want to date me?"
"Precisely."
"Hell yeah."
"Is that a bad thing?..." The librarian slides their charred notebook at your feet. You pick up the book. What's left of the pages shows you in human form.
"I suppose not. I am bound by contract to whatever your commands are, and if you wish to sell your souls for something like that then so be it. If I'm allowed an opinion, this one has already made a good first impression."
You point your claws beneath Maddox's chin who nearly faints from the contact. Baron's jaw drops to the floor while Alasdair tries, and fails to hold a straight face.
"Come on, Mad you're the last one I thought I'd have to worry about. I thought we were cool!" Baron grabs your arm, eyes bulging out of his sockets at the feel of your harden muscles. "Holy shit.... You said you'd do anything, right?"
"Baron I swear to God if you ask them to crush you with their thighs I'll choke you to death right now."
"I wasn't, chill-.... Their arms would do just fine."
#Supernatural harem#yandere oc#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere headcanons#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere x you#male yandere#yandere insert#yandere blurb#role swap au#yandere drabble#Alasdair my oc#Baron my oc#Maddox my oc#soft yandere
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Honestly the people who lump Homelander into the whole babygirl thingy remind of those people who fawn over large and dangerous wild animals without proper levels of precaution because look how cute or beautiful I guess. And then get killed by those animals for not having reasonable precaution.
To be clear on a side tracked note I will say I would never blame the animal reacting to the dumbfucks that pull that shit. Humans are 100% at fault in those scenarios. Fuck around and find out.
Sure nature can be pretty. But it's also fucked with no limits and morality on a never happening scale. They get off on the idea of pacifying and depowering Homelander but realistically that's only something that would make him more miserable than he already is. Possibly more feral and a different kind of dangerous.
When you back someone or something into a corner when they're already backed into a corner they don't suddenly stop being a threat.
They explode.
His situation is similar to one of a wild animal that's been caged its whole life. That creates a boiling point waiting to overflow and it is bizarre to me that people ignore that or think further prodding and poking would somehow help him??
Hm. Like are y'all okay? Are you sure you're okay cause you don't seem okay to me.
Also please never ever get a cat because I can already see what horrid douchebaggery this kind of behavior or enjoyment would mean for that poor animal. Just because you can torture something and get on its nerves for a reaction doesn't mean you should. Isn't that kind of a point with Homelander's character?
That's part of the theme too. Billy Butcher isn't making him or anything better. They're both driving each other towards the brink. Homelander is a ticking time bomb and Billy is accelerating the count down because he's so self absorbed in his revenge schemes he's unwilling to pause and think about consequence for others.
Including Ryan and completely ignoring Vought in favor of going after Homelander.
Just seems like some are guilty of some similar lines of thought in a few different ways. Which is ironic given complaints about Vought being the real villain.
And I do get it to some degree. Some people have kinks. Some people feel the need to do this as a form of self comfort specifically and especially when it comes to nerfing the characters' powers. But some people just don't want to see the character or the image or even messages that is or are actually being portrayed because they feel they've made a better image in their head I suppose.
Have fun but please be cautious with that mindset as it can be extremely harmful when applied to real people or in real life.
The whole sanitizing or even nerfing of how dangerous Homelander actually is or what he's done or even where he's headed just to justify him as a babygirl? I really really think that could be done without.
Also I do not want to think of Trump as babygirl and I hate all of you so fucking much for that. I sincerely hope that image consumes your minds too.
Now imagine that unholy pompous cheeznip in babydoll lingerie including garter belt and sexy stockings that do not fit him properly and tell me it's fucking beautiful.
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Your misery is my passion
ft - the one who waits
cw - dubcon - biting, scratching, power play, religious themes, blood, spiting, cuckolding, creampie, exhibitionism, pet names, mind break
wc - 3,629
an - It's great to be back dears, still polishing follower reqs, without further ado you get fucked by a god
Life had a point to be cruel, even to its most devout listeners, shoving each obstacle down the road cheering for one to make it. Perhaps most everything had before been much easier to overcome. Each challenge proving to throw you within the mud at a moment's notice surely within every trial it’d been something to get up and over with, yet… This was far from just a normal problem, wasn’t it?
Standing before the court of many, several cloaked whilst others only donned a simple robe, all seemed to take enjoyment into the chaos amidst. Cheering, shouting, and thrown objects were apparently the biggest guest to this hall. Yet at the center of chaos was where you’d stand.
Heart bashing against your ribs so harshly that it may even just burst out of your chest. Eyes watering up to that of a crystal damn as paled tears dripped across your cheeks prompting several involuntary bleats to shake out from an aching throat squeezing up at the delicious screams of those around you.
It was such a horrid deal of cards handed before you.
Lambs such as yourself being forced out of their homes and slaughtered at rituals of the old faith over a stupid scripture that detailed one of your kind would rise to the power of the red crown and free The One Who Waits. It’d been years really, it took over slowly causing many of your people to shun themselves from the public and other gods growing wary from rumors and often offering up their own followers only to doom themselves and fade into nothingness.
You’d only heard of the red crown in folk tales told by others, it was something to grant absolute power to it’s user, being channeled right through by The One Who Waits themself. A horror to many feeling it’d violate their own conscious mind and make it go awry. Though none of this had ever been really true, mostly of the fact no one had even donned the red crown yet so far as you’d or anyone else for a matter of fact had known.
Lost within the concaves of your own mind only shaking into reality with a raw and scratchy ‘baa’ in attempts to show you had in fact been paying attention.. hopefully?
Yet in here it’d only been met with a bast amount of booing coming from the watching parties of this blood bath, it was only a matter of time before it’d become your turn. Perhaps if trying hard enough escape could be made! Surely, such as to shake out of the shackled keeping you bound and running tail away outside the door. Maybe deep down you’d memorized the pattern of hallways into this temple of sorrows. All of this was surely futile, wasn’t it? Your job was supposed to be a devout and loving follower to the bishops! Goodness you couldn’t even think about others and the entire purpose of these sacrifices to the old faiths survival. It’d be best just to get it over with quickly, in the end if you went oh so willingly then perhaps the promised lands the bishops preached about to the people would surely take you into its loving embrace? But before much else could be done a hand had gripped you harshly dragging you behind them over to the pedestal, throwing you down to the ground skinning your side with a wince.
“ Pitiful thing.. ” A squid like bishop seemed to take in as pity towards you, as ichor seemed to bleed through their bandages and onto the floor. In fact, each god appeared to have a heaping number of bandages around themselves in certain areas. The otherworldly blood seeping through them creating a mess below.
“ You say that to all, quick we must finish this. Most important matters await after this last one! ” This time the rather bitchy worm like being seemed to spout, taking a moment to huff before spitting on you without much of a second thought only turning their metaphorical nose up to you. Cruel.
The rest of the bishops seem to quiet down after that display of disrespect, at least to what your pulsing ears could pick up amidst all the cheers of fellow followers around you. The cloaked figures from before were simply quick to circle around and all join up in arms and begun to chant prayers of rest for your soul. Whilst the bulky figure from before raised their axe high in the air awaiting at a moment notice for the go ahead.
Praying for one last interruption was more than wishful thinking, perhaps deep-down praying that someone would shout to stop this madness. Yet nobody came…
A soft sigh then.. nothingness… Never witnessing the bishops wave off for your supposed death. Yet here you stood?
The sheer silence of the void around you had caused a ringing to sound within your ear. It was… Almost peaceful? Picking yourself from the floor was a difficult task as pain shot down within your neck, forcing it to go limp appearing to bow slightly. Soft whimpers tumbled out whilst removing one hand from the floor to rub at the pain only to have the slow realization of what felt like your skin being stitched together by your own skin. It was rough and crude as if the shock of death was only for a moment.. or at least within this area of nothingness the time felt nauseatingly slow yet whipped around quickly. The sense of yourself being grounded had disappeared within this tireless place.
It’d taken quite a time to notice little decor surrounding the area, oddly enough it seemed that the decor had been mainly concentrated to one area that vaguely resembled a path. Perhaps this was it, maybe this was death? If that’s the case was this a path into your freedom, the promised lands to your people and fellow followers within the past by the bishops? The ends of your mouth had begun to cure into a brief smile staggering to pick yourself up and jogging along the clouded paths before you, goodness you didn’t even feel breathless within the long distance. Everything around you had begun to blur into background your vision focusing only to the road ahead.
Wasn’t much longer until stopping dead in your tracks, taking notice of two figures with their arms held into prayer for something you couldn’t quite make out, yet it did take a moment to notice the large number of chains that varied in size, some came from the makeshift blank sky whilst others protruded up from the ground and wrapped around the figure shrouded into your view, at least until you’d look up. That happening proving a challenge forcing you to take several steps back to look up without your throat feeling as if it was about to tear in two. Even the daunting bishops before had seemed to pale in size almost to this behemoth of a figure. Soft purring was the only noise drifting in the air besides the light crackling of the candles and torches surrounding you.
“ Be not afraid little lamb.. You have suffered enough. Haven’t you? ” The booming voice had taken you by suprise leaping backwards with several steps following in attempts to shield yourself in any possible way.
“ Lost your way, haven’t you? ” The soft paused forced you to take in a burning inhale that proved fruitless into calming you. “ Nothing to worry for little one. I am here to guide you back to the flock. ” Your cheeks begun to heat up at his words, disgusting. It made you feel wanted and as if someone sincerely had wanted to help you, you’d never just drop your boxers for anyone who’d been nice why now were you so bothered by words towards you? Perhaps it was the fact when spoken to it was usually in that of being through public sermons or propaganda announcements. Maybe even during rituals you’d been asked to perhaps pass some meat or even to give your prayers for another. Why now of all things we’re you finally being excited of being given the time of.. day? Putrid and humiliating did you quite feel towards this. It only worsened into making you grimace and turn to the side as light chuckles flitted in the air at how confusing your intentions were. Yet, it just made some vague sense, death was the end all. Perhaps he was the one to take you into the promise lands? The chains didn’t exactly make you believe so but anything at this point was better than your existence beforehand.
“ Now, now. You flatter me little one, but I have bigger things for you ahead.” Their voice was soft and almost leaned into a sultry lisp. Wait, did this being read your mind, or perhaps did they simply listen to the thoughts spilling over the broken dam of your conscious? Either way it makes you bleat in Suprise only to force yourself to place hands over your mouth. “ They slaughtered you believing it’d finish the job, yet they’ve only led you straight to me, unfortunate. ”
Piecing things together in your mind it had done quite a harsh realization of things. Chained and forgotten, doomed to eternally be trapped until a vessel of the lamb shall appear to set them free… This was him.. The One Who Waits.
“ A quick one you are, my lamb, now. Will you start a cult in my name? ” One by one all three of this things' eyes had opened showing you the deep crimson sclera surrounding the pitch blackness of their irises. A delicate smile resting upon their features causing you to stiffen up in a slight fear. “ You will become my faithful vessel. ”
“… Absolutely.” It’s smile sharpening upward to a point as their hat had quickly swarmed down and atop your head. Feeling the sheer power course through course within before being sent off to begin your duties as a saint to the people. All for The One Who Waits.
“ M’lord? ” Your voice begun to tremble slightly witnessing your followers young and old alike stand in a cage high above the ground. The void around you proving to feel as crushing as it did before, a tingle along your throat caused you to wince in a familiar pain.
The chains on your lord had been since removed with every bishop you’d slaughtered. Each crusade bringing forth more faithful followers who looked to you in faith, many of them marrying each other or even having children bringing further love into the cult. In the end you’d done it all in hopes to see him again, never really being summoned here for any other reason than for it to give you advice and skills to aid your cult. Such as learning to sacrifice followers, never forcing people to die but rather have them willingly offer themselves on their own terms of life. It’d truly been the largest success you could’ve imagine. Learning along the way how to better care for your followers than the bishops had ever thought to provide for their own.
Deep down you’d simply wanted to come back for your god, the one who had saved you from death and offered a new start, more than you’d ever know how to repay for. But here, your followers shook and whimpered it could only be understood that you simply couldn’t just fix this situation with a few words. Perhaps. In the end you knew that your lord craved nothing from anyone unless it was to gain favor for himself, yet you continue to follow his teachings. Knowing deep down he has not truly cared for you.
“ Hither lamb, bow before your savior. ” And that you did, attempting to ignore the tingle within your torso that seemed to flutter at its words. The control held above you simply made you twitch when the though had crossed your mind. “ My dear vessel, I hereby relinquish you of your service to the Red Crown. Return it to me, embrace what the end awaits as you have before. With this final sacrifice of my most devout follower, I Shall be freed. ” The sinister cackle followed suit before extending a hand to lift your chin and raise to look The One Who Waits in the eyes. “ Approach my plaything, and lay your life at my feet. ”
“ No, my lord. ” The hand resting along your chin grew tight before tossing your face to the side with a growl. “ SO, you have betrayed me, pet. You’ve shunned my gospel truths, and claimed yourself as a false idol.” The short pause of your lord was ended with a tight grip to your waist. “ The crown is mine by divine right! You think to stand in the face of death? ” The two figures at the sides of it wringed themselves up by steadying their weapons. “ Master! Allow me. I’ll give this wretch a taste of your wrath. ” The other shoved it’s counterpart before speaking up in a louder tone, “ I will take care of this beast, master. I will cut the crown from it’s head! ”
Your fate itself sealed, not being the most divine fighter, you’d know it’d end here. But to die the way you’d lived? Never, not again.
Only, you’d been met with laughter, something that had frozen you in place to stop wriggling within the lords hands. “ No, stand down my servants. I have further plans for this wretched beast. If not to kneel down for me, you shall become one with me. You will no more be your own conscious, lamb.” Slinking their fingers between your thighs plying them apart easily with a hearty snicker plastering beneath their echoing voice. Your followers in the cage begun to shout and beg their lord to spare you from being torn into two. Yet that only did so much as the servants to its sides snapped at them to be quiet.
Fear plagued your mind simply wriggling as possible within its grasp, your stomach churning in what you thought to be anguish. Yet the delicate purr from the large god as it’d lifted you up to its face to rub against your heat made you recognize otherwise. Yelps to stop and that you’d kill yourself for him, anything but this. It’d all been met with nothing but your robe being pushed upwards and allowing your chest, fingers tracing the scarring below the nipple with slight interest. Shivering from the cool hands exploring your body all but keeping your boxers on for now.
“My boy, little lamb. Have you truly kept yourself clean in my name?” Hissing at this comment you bit your lords hand only to be met with said appendage being moved up to choke you. The hard grip stung against your scarred over throat. Sure you didn’t have to breath but still the fear had ran over you before noticing blood wasn’t going to your head now. Feebly attempts to break free of his grasp had been made until a gurgled moan had bubbled out from you. Confusion lacing the Lord’s face, but surely had been replaced with that of a sinister cackled glancing over to your dumbstruck followers who any couldn’t believe this. So powerless you’d looked! Nothing of what they’d seen of you, many turned to look away in shame and to protect your decency whilst others watched with a dropped jaw, one in particular kept glancing back and forth to the two of you but had settled to look away.
It was helpless here, nothing could save you. Even if you did go free after this how could you even give sermons to these people without being laughed at for your sin. All this proved to do was force your thighs to clench on nothing. Arousal coating your insides disgustingly. Despite being unable to control this it didn’t stop you from whimpering as The One Who Waits removed the hand from your neck and soon grazed their thumb against your clothed sex. Liquid seeping through the fabric making forcing out a keen as your head forced itself back, grimacing at the feeling. It’s index finger had begun to toy with the band of your boxers before pulling it down at a teasing pace.
“ So small and delicate, perhaps you’ll taste almost as delicious as you look, little lamb? ” Bleating at the frictions your wool tizzying along your skin at this, unable to lift your head to look your devilish perpetrator in the eyes without feeling sick with the gurgling of your insides. You simply had to get this over with, it was for your people… Right? At this point it was becoming hard to remember as your saviors tongue left it’s mouth only to lick at the mound, barbs on it’s tongue causing you to shout in pain as some sliced your skin on it’s journey, you just couldn’t take this!
Alas, with that his tongue darted inside. Your cunt ached in pain as your screams began to pour from you deliciously, the lords facial expression changed at the taste of you blood and all. Their focus growing hazy and pupils dilated.
Eventually running the insides of your throat raw and horse from screaming it had eventually died down to turn into pained groans. That in which he’d absolutely ate up from you. After the continued torture the bubbling in your stomach had seemed to burst, cumming onto your savior's tongue, pulling himself from your mound a hand had move up to cup your chin and stick his thumb inside allowing the essence that dribbled down your cunt and onto his now messy hands to be tasted. The tang of copper threw you off as tears welled down your reddened cheeks, a hoarse baa as another feeble attempts to stop this. Unfortunately, this wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
“m’lord please, I promise to- mhn-PH!” Hearing the shuffling of fabric and being pulled into the lap of your god only to let out a scream of agony at once. It had slipped their cock deep within your walls, leaving you to wail at the protrusion as your insides attempted to stretch just to fit them inside, a disgusting slurping sound coming from your cunt as he’d pull back, leaving your cries to egg them on. It had been such a delicious thing to watch you crumble beneath him physically. Unable to do anything with it being there, far larger and stronger than your feeble physical restraints.
“ Sweet little vessel… Taking me so well. Hm? ” It’s gravelly voice had done nothing but cushion your agony with something sugary sweet lodged in your throat.
The pained intrusions eventually melted as much as it could into a pleasuring burn for yourself, unable to look your savior in the eyes only to turn and face your followers who were either in horror or attempting not to look aroused by this. Disgust washing your features as more tears fell. Unable to keep your now vaguely pleasure whimpers from staying within your throat, it was heartbreaking. Yet… Delicious.
As the horrid actions drew on your mind had begun to haze over, craving the delicious burn of the lords cock burying itself deeply within your heat. Arms attempting to pull forward and babble towards him to save you and take you into his arms lovingly. This made your lord pause for a second to eye you suspiciously before their cheeky grin had turned maddening. Picking up the pace as once again the shlick sounds and movements had increased in force practically crushing you with his cock. Your second orgasm had swallowed you whole as your mind had turned into nothing, focusing on nothing but pleasure, the sickeningly sweet pain blossoming within your hips and cunt had simply become all you wanted no needed.
Begging for more and whimpering little words of praise for the lord had all but echoed within the void as drool dripped from the side of your mouth. Trying to grip onto your savior best you could hooves drawing deeply into its flesh drawing ichor from the creature. Even within this pleasuring haze it’d taken notice that the ruthless thrusting had lost its rhythm. The before mostly silenced and concentrated god had all but lost composure as their feral hands moved all around you gripping to whatever he’d be able to reach as slurred praise had dripped out with melancholic undertones to their words. An ear-splitting scream came with your final mind-blowing orgasm once the pad of his thumbs had begun pressing soft circles into your clit. It was shocking and delicious! Nothing could quite ever compete, it felt as if you were complete when your lord had been pressed to the hilt of your sopping heat. A roar overtook your sobs once the lords' cock bursted, filling you to the brim with his seed. Cum dribbling out your plugged cunt giving and overwhelming sensation from being filled. It felt right, as if you’d been made to feel this.
Whines rising from you as the lord had slowly pulled its dick from your abused pussy with malice hidden behind their eyes watching himself dethatch from you with a slick ‘shlurp’. You’d fallen limp on the edge of passing out as your Christ had tucked themselves away before gingerly raising you back up to his face only to have your cunt stared at, seed that once filled you completely slowly escaping from you, pressing a finger to some of the liquid only to be pushed gingerly back into your cunt.
“ Well done, little lamb, perhaps there is a use to you Afterall..”
#❥ . writings ; fanfiction#one who waits x reader#cult of the lamb smut#cult of the lamb x reader#cotl gods x reader smut#cotl smut#narinder x reader#narinder x reader smut
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Rage and buzzed through his veins his teeth barred and he finally understood what people meant.
“You’ll turn out just like him.”
And he had.
His heart had thumped tired with fear and he was ashamed to say but he had missed him. His father.
“Where ave you been?” He had slurred eyes scanning Harleys body. Eyes skittering around his room looking for money or something to steal.
And Harley said nothing. He instantly regretted that stupid hope that he might of change might have said he loved him. He was so fucking dumb.
And his dad snapped when Harley said something not even stopping to leap on him grimey hands clutching his throat hard and Harley wheezed.
His mind flipped and in front of him he saw two options. He was going to die.
His father was going to kill him.
Or he would have to kill his father.
And Harley didn’t want to die, not now. Before maybe. But he had too much to live for now. And rage burned through his system. Why? Why did his dad have to be like this not like James.
Why did Harley have to choke and gasp for air staring into the man who was suppose to love him eye’s and make a decision to kill him.
He knew what he had to do.
He was bigger now stronger. His father was weak, going through withdrawals drunk as hell, and Harley knew what he had to do.
He shoved him and red turned to black and blacked turned to red as pulp sprayed across the carpet his dad screaming in ugly horrid screams of pain and agony arms failing as Harley put all of everything his dad had ever put onto him in his fist.
And he beat until it stopped screaming.
And when it stopped screaming Harley realised the cries were also his wails loud and ugly “why.” Over and over again and he fell back black passing over his vision as his throat swallowed.
“Oh god.”
He had no eyes anymore. He wasn’t alive. He wasn’t there. He was never there. He was never there. And now he wasn’t ever going to be there.
And he stumbled away from his horrors terrified at what he might do to others seeing the way its chest rose ever so slightly and eerie wheezes of pain echoed through the blood splattered room.
And Harley realised he was craving his dad. Comfort from the person who was more of a father than it would ever be. And he stumbled out crying to him wishing nothing had ever happened in the first place.
His dad had been silent, comforting and promising.
“It’s all going to be ok.” He had whispered tucking Harleys hair behind his ear wiping the blood splattered across his face. Even though Harley trusted his dad he had lied. It wasn’t going to be ok.
Harley would be ok. But things would always be different from then on.
When he had come to terms with that fact that it was gone he had felt happy. At peace.
But things never really leave do they?
He still smells the blood bright and rich.
Dried flakes of blood sometimes come off the bathroom walls.
Tiny dots of red remind Harley.
It will never truely be gone.
Never.
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1 or 31 for the prompts perhaps.. if ur doing some writing if not no pressure :-) whoever u want it to be abt !! adore ur writing
jay you have no idea what you've done to me. i've wanted to do this to sparrow for Days Now and now i have an opportunity?!?!? anyways. when does this take place? idk, not canon that's for sure! but its been in my head so bad. TW for violence
~
Everything happened so fast.
It's been days of being on their own- Nick is starting to grow tired of it. Admitting that they don't know where their dads are is frustrating, and besides, even with the growing abilities they've all manifested... well, it's dangerous here, isn't it?
Case in point: there is a man standing in front of them with a sword lit ablaze in a way that would be so fucking cool if he weren't pointing it threateningly at them, a group of five scared kids.
(Well, three scared kids and two very unimpressed twins. Nick doesn't know if he should admire their guts or be horrifically afraid for them).
"Listen, you seem like decent kids," the man says, the sword still pointed at them. His buddy is a giant of a man who sneers with teeth far too large to be fully human, hefting an equally-terrifying axe. "But you're not supposed to be here, and you've seen too much! Unfortunately, that means you gotta get axed, if you know what I mean."
"We'd like to see you try," Lark sneers in return, and the fight begins.
Nick is... still woefully unused to fighting in actual combat scenarios. While the twins and eventually Grant and even Terry took to fighting pretty quickly, he'd rather use the magic he's found himself growing more and more fond of to protect himself and his teammates, acting on the sidelines instead of charging straight in.
This is the case here as he taps his drumsticks to his belt, humming a quick melody to boost Grant as he lunges with his own axe, stepping around Terry as he focuses intensely on his stupid spellbook, flipping through the pages.
Lark and Sparrow move in tangent, per the usual. Where Lark swings with his dagger in hand, Sparrow is ducking around, casting vines at the guy's feet and flinging drops of dark liquid in his face. They're always so fun to watch, if only because they always seem to know what the other is doing.
For a moment, Nick feels guilty for only watching them when Grant is taking on the axeman in one-on-one combat. "Terry," he starts to say, his own brows furrowing as he tries to recall something, anything that might help him in this fight. "Maybe you should-"
There's a horrid squelch that cuts him off. The leader is grinning smugly, and he pulls his sword back. "One down," he gloats, and Lark shrieks.
Nick watches in horror as Sparrow crumples to the ground.
No time for thinking. "Protect them!" he yells vaguely in Terry's direction, and then he's diving forwards, his hands glowing. He might not know what to do in combat, but Sparrow had been... had been helping him with healing spells. So that I'm not the only one who can help the others, he had said, and at the time they had laughed because they'd never get hurt enough that healing them all would drain Sparrow, would they?
Lark is still fighting, a dark look in his eyes as he roars in fury, shoves back against the leader. He hasn't had a moment to catch his breath, let alone drop to the ground to check on his twin: even he knew that would be suicide at this point, which would be pointless. Instead, he directs the fight to ten, fifteen, twenty feet away, giving Nick the space to drop next to Sparrow's crumpled form.
It's bad. Nick forces past the smell of burnt flesh, shrugs his own jacket off of his shoulders - it's the only thing he can think of to use, it can be washed later! - and gingerly places a hand on Sparrow's shoulder. "This is going to hurt," he says, "probably."
Sparrow's eyes are half-lidded, dazed. He doesn't even wince when Nick wraps the jacket around him, pressing it carefully against the wound. His breathing is short and jagged, and there are tears trailing down his face slowly- it's horrible.
"Hey, hey, Sparrow, look at me," Nick whispers, and he summons his magic to his hands again, pressing one gingerly to where his jacket has started to stain dark red on Sparrow's back, holding him in place. "You're okay, see? I've got you."
Sparrow inhales, and then exhales in a shuddering sigh, and he allows Nick to pull him into his arms entirely. "The fight," he says- his voice comes out no louder than a whisper. "The others..."
Nick spares a glance upwards. Terry has finally joined the fight, and Grant defeated the axeman so all three of them are focused on the leader now.
"Don't look at them," he finally says in return, and he forces a smile, gritting his teeth as the first healing spell ends and Sparrow looks no better than before, his chest and back both bleeding still, his face rapidly losing color. "Look at me. This is what you taught me for, right?"
Sparrow's breath is wheezing now, his inhales short and raspy, his eyes glazing over. Nick's own heart beats harder and harder in his chest, and he wills another healing spell to his fingers, pressing down harder. Work, he pleads, come on, work!
"You're not dying on me today," he whispers. "Lark would kill me, and then we're both dead and what for? So... so don't give up yet. Stay with me."
Slowly, miraculously, the bleeding slows to a stop. Nick's jacket is probably ruined, but he doesn't even care if it means Sparrow's not on the verge of death anymore. At least now he can be fixed.
The sound of combat, too, slows to a stop, and then Lark is crouching next to them, his face full of fear for the first time since Nick met him. "Sparrow," he gasps, his voice strangled and also so fearful.
"Careful, he's lost a lot of blood, but the wound is mostly healed, I think?" Nick carefully peels away the jacket, revealing burnt skin and half-cauterized flesh and an incision that has only barely healed over. "I don't have much juice left in me for another healing spell, but I can try."
Lark nods, but he's not focused on Nick at all, instead taking Sparrow's hand in his own and squeezing it. "This will not be your end, brother," he says, his voice wobbling dangerously. "Now that the enemies have been defeated, Terry and Grant can find stronger healing magic for you in their supplies."
It feels like ages pass in that moment. Sparrow curled up in his arms is something Nick has been stupidly dreaming about for too long now, but not like this- not when Sparrow's breathing is still wrong, and he's so pale, trembling from the blood loss, and Lark refuses to let go of his hand, and he has a couple of nasty cuts himself that he glares at Nick for mentioning.
Eventually, though, Grant and Terry come into view, each holding vials. "We tested them," Terry explains, and he snorts, shaking his head. "I can't believe we got so lucky- the idea that they'd have healing potions on them was so far-fetched!"
"Give them here!" Lark demands, and he reaches up to snatch the vial right out of Terry's hands, immediately leaning over Sparrow to carefully let the potion drop into his mouth.
It... works. Sparrow's breathing evens out, and the wound fades a little more.
He still doesn't wake up, and his color is still too pale for Nick's liking, but he's alive and not in danger of dying anymore, and even Lark breathes a sigh of relief, still clutching his hand.
For the first time since he watched Sparrow get impaled by an actual flaming sword, Nick allows himself to slump forwards, holding Sparrow to his chest still, marveling in how he can feel each breath, each movement. I almost lost him, he realizes, his own breath sharpening into a violent inhale. Fuck.
When Sparrow wakes, Nick promises himself that he'll... confess feelings, or do something stupid, and maybe learn some actual combat spells so he's not so useless in the future.
For now? As Lark whispers reassurances to Sparrow quietly and Grant dutifully cleans up the area and Terry sets up the barest bones of a shelter... Nick sighs, and combs through Sparrow's hair, and thanks the stars and heavens that he had healing spells in the first place.
#kasey writes stuff#dndads#sparrow oak garcia#nick close#not tagging the others but#for MINOR context i did come up with this scenario when rereading go doodlers#for other minor context: sparrow getting stabbed by a flaming sword a la marcy wu has been smth ive wanted to do for forever#its FUN. im sorry. taking one blorbos pain and giving it to another#sorry for the ending i feel like its so abrupt?#anyways. how does this truly end. does sparrow wake up? is she the same? did the impalement fuck up her lungs irreparably? who knows!#im leaving that up to yall. i just wanted to make the ending vaguely hopeful to fulfill the 'comfort' of 'hurt/comfort' LMAO
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Israel and the US are creating hate & resentment against themselves that will linger for decades
I read recently that Jews in Turkey are careful not to leave the house each time Israel does something fucked up, cause they fear getting targeted.
& this is why: Israel claims to do these horrid act in accordance with & in the name of their religion, even putting the symbol on their flag (just as Spanish Conquistadores burned central american codices in the name of "christianity" and how the Nazis had "god with us" written on their belts )
Like I'm not at all excusing or justifying the targetting of unrelated randos, but in terms of cause & effect, the governments of Israel & the USA are creating resentment and it will be random people that pay for it.
Of course, this serves those in power just fine cause they can use it as a justification for more violence. Netanyahu won't get harassed in the street, random Turkish Jews will. Biden won't get his face burned when someone throws a molotov into an American embassy again, random Americans will.
Now I can't speak for Jews as I am not a Jew (though I see many saying that this murder doesn't represent their values) but the useless greedy leaders that we have in the west sure don't represent me or my values.
We were supposed to care about individual freedom, rationality & progress; These crimes are the most draconian, insane & barbaric shit I have ever laid my eyeballs on.
I think a whole lot of this 'terrorist' or 'antisemite' rhetoric just serves to strip rationality away, like a bad parent who says his children are just "being difficult" when he hurts their feelings. "They hate us cause they hate us" or worse yet "they hate us because we're good"
So ppl never-ever-ever think about if maybe the resentment has a CAUSE. That doesn't mean every action based on it is justified or constructive (or even that the cause is valid or rational), but how can you understand the problem or solve it without knowing its cause?
And of course, if they just "hate us cause they hate us", then it gets easy to justify doing away with "they" since there is no rational cause for resentment that can be remedied.
#gaza#free gaza#palestine#free palestine#west ban#jerusalem#israel#ionism is fascism#usa#us imperialism
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your point about how a lot of femboys in anime are just trans women/nonbinary people who are made into throwaway jokes due to transphobia is so real, and i think the reason a lot of femboys suck is because a lot of newage guys start in anime sphere. and because of that their view of gnc is tinted with the idea that it, along with trans-ness, is a joke. and they have to unlearn that. honestly, a lot of anime "femboys" arent actually femboys. at this point its kind of seperate from that. the characters are often intentionally made to be transmisogynist sterotypes and i feel like calling them femboys is almost disingenuous. granted im not transfemme so if i said anything hurtful or ignorant lmk im kinda stupid.
no yea you nailed it. And honestly a lot of my reservations are also mostly towards cis femboys. Some of whom have been fucking awful about excluding trans femboys too, which is something take great offense at.
Like of course trans femboys will often also not understand the intricacies of transmisogyny simply by virtue of not being a victim of it, but with your experience with transphobia and your own body. You still tend to be considerably better and more compassionate about these things.
Anyway yea, a lot of femboys simply due to the nature of the world, are in fact also closeted transfems. Not all of course, I'm not gonna try to say gnc people aren't real. Nor am I gonna doubt any person who comes to me claming to be a femboy, I have no right to question people's identities.
But this paired with the frankly hostile tone that cis femboys learn about femboys from often produces some of the most horrid people imagineable. Because they're still as entitled as other male anime fans with really fucked up views on sex.
Really I suppose my conclusion is that I'm cool with femboys, they just gotta prove they aren't bigots first
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• Convince me otherwise but Aerea went by the name Aerea Royce until she was given a dragon egg (by Viserys) that hatched.
•It was a dark, ugly bronze thing - and when its eyes opened and Aerea saw the colour black, she smiled, having felt as ugly and horrid as the little dragon that settled in her arms - then screeched as it clawed its way to her shoulder, hissing at her eagle that was already seated there.
• Aerea Royce/Targaryen was a child who liked collecting stones - and when she learned of the Runes of her mother's House, she would spend time trying to carve them into the stones. She would keep them on her in a little pouch attached to her belt, and on her dragon as well.
• Aerea makes Daeron take her to Dragonstone and leave her there when she hears that Vermithor is called the "Bronze Fury"
• she nearly dies but it's worth it because after she sings to the dragon in the same way she sings to her eagle, he calms - in a way he's never done so before, and she tells him, "I see you," when she, in truth, sees herself through the eyes of the dragon
• Aerea is a lover of songs - but her most prized possession (after the many weapons she owns) - is the flute her uncle Gerold gave her. It was smooth and unmarked when he gifted it to her, but after years of possession, she began to draw on it with ink - turning the whole thing an ugly black, before she began to carve the runes of her House into it, humming as the calm took over her.
• Aerea Targaryen is horribly connected to Vermithor and her eagle - reason being she's a skinchanger/warg hehe (and fuck she's the blood of the First Men, I'm crying - screw having Cregan Stark be her himbo homeboy's gonna be her Daddy - like, because, she's blood of the First Men and so is he... and she didn't have a father or mother to teach her of the Old God's or anything like that. I mean she did but with Cregan it's different because he's a Stark.)
• Aerea's eagle is called either Sauron or Halbrand I haven't decided it yet - and she has a horse too. I think her eagle will be called Sauron, and her horse will be Halbrand
• Aerea's possibly the most deserving of the title "Daughter of the Kingdom" because she truly just vibes and has travelled throughout with her horse and eagle (this was before Vermithor) and also she has a sidekick who's her mother's younger cousin somewhat - he's like her little funny boy that she keeps around because he's entertaining enough (gives stiles stilinski vibes)
• Aerea Royce, when she is traveling and gets separated from her uncle/cousin, gets kidnapped by some Mountain clansmen. Aerea is pretty chill, until they state they wish to take her armour and her sword and make her their prisoner. Aerea only laughs, saying, "I've the blood of Kings in my veins. What makes you think I will go down so easily?" All the while she is bound, and made to sit on her ass - before, of course, they can react, her eyes roll to the back of her head, and she loses all consciousness.
• the men all laugh, because "that was easier than expected" but before they can act, they are attacked by an eagle who swoops in their direction, followed by a horse who is kicking and bucking.
• Aerea only wakes once her trusted eagle, Sauron seats himself on her head. Then she ties herself to her horse Halbrand, and has him walk, while she has Sauron search for her lost uncle/cousin, whom she finds a little South.
• Aerea Targaryen is known as the Rogue Lady of Runestone. And she is indeed a rogue, for she once helmed a revenge plot - being the only female among four other men, all of whom were angry at their lord for not doing something he was supposed to. Seeing as these men were part of her land - the land she was meant to be lady of (but wasn't for complicated plot reasons), she decided to screw it and help them.
• afterwards, Aerea goes with her Merry Stone Men (who all swear themselves to her service - save for one dude he just wants to live a peaceful life) to King's Landing where she demands her Uncle name her Lady of Runestone, and grant her power to her words and if he will not do that, then she demands he holds the corrupt lords in the lands responsible for their depravity (moral corruption).
• Aerea is, honestly, without Daemon, an amazing Leader and Lady. And also, her travels with her eagle, horse, and later on, dragon, gives me Dunk and Egg vibes
#house royce#aerea royce#aerea targaryen#the bronze dragon of the vale#soldier#wip: heretic#daeron targaryen
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Emeralds & Charcoal
(A non-canon interaction between what once was and what now is)
-–—–-
Part I: Of Infinite Mirror
"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered gently as he shut the bedroom door.
Foster rested their head against the door's painted on music notes and flowers for a moment, humming softly to themself. It had been a long day. Maybe they'd skip the bar tonight...
He turned to head toward his own bedroom and yelped, nearly falling backward in surprise. In front of him stood... himself? It was almost like looking in a mirror, aside from a few things. To start, the figure was completely greyscale. Black wings made of smoke protruded from its back, the excess that floated off of them curling around its head and obscuring the view of its eyes. Not to mention, its entire presence felt like a tear in reality. It was... deeply unsettling to look at, to say the least.
"Who are you?" they finally managed through panicked breathing. "Are- Are you an angel..?"
The figure barked a laugh, its voice wispy and seeming to almost echo itself, though it barely smiled. "Ha! Hardly."
Foster stretched out an arm in some form of attempt to guard the door from this creature. With his free hand, he grabbed the silver Petrine Cross charm that hung around his neck, fidgeting with it nervously. "...A demon, then?"
It shrugged, looking them up and down disapprovingly. "I don't know. If that's more suitable for you, then sure. Look, it doesn't really matter what I am. All that matters is finding whoever is gonna hurt that little girl." It points to the door behind Foster.
"What!?" They grabbed the figure by its collar, a wave of adrenaline washing over them. "What do you mean hurt!?"
It seemed unbothered by this burst of anger, however. "Hey, I never said I would hurt her. So why don't you ease up a bit and let me go, hm?" It pried Foster's hands away from its shirt and set them at his own side. He huffed in annoyance.
The figure smoothed down its outfit and tilted its head, examining its doppelganger with a curious look. "First, though..."
It plunged a hand into his chest, causing him to let out a horrified gasp. He wanted to scream out for help, or maybe just in fear, but he didn't have much time to do so. It quickly retracted its hand, pulling out a glob of black ink with it.
"Hm... Odd..." It looked over the ink intently.
Foster grabbed at where they had presumably been torn open, but the only hint of any interaction was a black, oily stain on their waistcoat over their heart. They could only stare at the figure in shock.
"Wh- What the fuck... What did you..?"
It scoffed at him. "Relax, I was just checking." It pondered its hand for a moment, trying to decide the best way to clean off the ink, before settling on... licking it off.
Foster looked at it in utter disgust, a shiver running down their spine. They tried to ignore the foul taste forming in the back of their mouth.
"Just... why?"
The figure shrugged. "Can't rule anyone out." It jutted a finger at Foster. "Not even you, who I assume is supposed to be her guardian?"
"Uh-" he blinked a few times, still confused and slightly afraid of this strange look-alike, and cleared his throat, "Yes, I-I am."
"Well, you're obviously doing a wonderful job since I'm here." The sarcasm dripping from its voice was obvious. "Come on, then."
The figure grabbed them by the arm, its wings growing in size until the smoke engulfed the two and–
The world was spinning. Foster felt himself going through the motions, living day after day, as if his life was being fast-forwarded, but he didn't dare open his eyes. He knew that if he did, his dinner wouldn't stay in his stomach. The smoke never cleared away, lingering just out of bounds.
Eventually, it the world stopped, but their insides didn't. They clutched the sides of their head tightly, dropping something silver to the ground with a clatter. They could feel a presence looming over them, watching, judging.
Sirens blared all around him. The horrid, suffocating feeling in his chest didn't let him look at the scene in front of him. He knew what he would find. Tears poured down his face, mixing with the hot pink splattered across his face. He felt himself once again being engulfed by the smoke.
And then it all fell away.
#funky lil writings#funky lil ocs#cjrp#cjrp anons#tw emeto ment#tw minor gore#tw religious imagery#tw implied death#tw blood#black heart#guilt/foster#grief trilogy
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I leaped head-first into the rabbit hole that is all things Jason Todd and found myself woefully unprepared for the horror that is the more cruel portrayals of his and Bruce's relationship
Safe to say I'm glueing myself in the corner where everything is sunshine and roses and Bruce is a actual good parent, can I have that? T^T
First off - welcome to the rabbit hole! Its always nice to find friends in one of these. And second -
dang.
yeah.
just -
dang.
I too was pretty unprepared for the absolutely horrid mess that is the Batman and Jason relationship. I'm not quite sure in what world slitting your own son's throat is considered okay. I'm guessing a LOT of comic book writers have shitty relationships with their fathers and don't realize that's Not Standard Practice, nor does it make Bruce look like a 'badass'. It just makes him look bad.
I mean, I'm used to a bit of comic book whiplash. I used to get all four Spider-man comics every month back in the Way Back Times and I remember there were absolutely times you could tell the writers weren't on the same page about how things were supposed to go. In fact, before my time, the story was that MJ and Peter only got married because Stan Lee wrote it happening in the Sunday newspaper comic and surprised more than a few writers who were working on comic books for the character. So I thought I was used to things varying from point to point but - DANG! I was not prepared for the amount of 'Bruce is a supportive dad who still shares burgers with Jason' to 'Bruce beats the shit out of his son to a level he won't even use on the Joker'. Some people who are claiming to be professional writers need to figure out how to make a character bad ass and put conflict in a relationship WITHOUT just resorting to senseless physical violence every single time.
Now fandom - fandom's always been about exploring the side angles and reconstructing things. And I do think a lot of people are either 1. working through their own family trauma in a cathartic safe way through fiction 2. are absolutely disgusted with the way Jason and Bruce's relationship has been treated in canon and just went 'fuck it' and figured if that was what canon was going to give them then fine, that's how canon would get treated and 3. hates either Bruce or Jason and needs to punch downward on the one in order to make the other look better (that last one is a sign of poor writing and a personal pet peeve of mine that's way too common in fanfiction). From what I've seen at least in the corners I lurk in, its usually the first two though and I can respect both of those. I can even enjoy reading both of those if they deal with what that kind of relationship means and does to the characters (usually Jason).
But God bless the writers who look at canon, reach down and pick up Bruce and Jason and carefully wash the yuck off them like they're little fairy penguins caught in an oil spill. Who get them scrubbed clean of canon yuck and then put them in little cute knit sleeveless sweaters somewhere safe where they can recover and feed them tasty things so they thrive together. Bless the Wayne Family Adventures comic creators for it, bless every single one of the fanfic writers for it, bless the fan artists for it and bless the meta writers too. Bless every single person that looks at the mess canon is and goes 'not on my watch'. And bless them for sharing so the rest of us can read something that's healing for our souls and gives us some respite from the world outside our doors. Sometimes all we want to read is the dream of a good father and its wonderful that fandom gives us so many great fics and art of that. Canon may not give it to us but
yeah.
We can have that.
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its so fucked where the world is going. ive been encouraged in therapy to talk about my feelings with people close to me but i cant talk about how dying would be better than experiencing ww3 because i only get awkward smiles and empty reassurances because they know thats true. i dont know where to look for hope anymore
i get it :(( i really do. i barely talk to people irl about it by now, bc its either as you said above, or its my grandma who agrees w me and we just go down a spiral of "dear lord, what the fuck." some people get upset when i talk about it too, they say oh youre just being negative and then i list out 9000 rational reasons as to why this is realistic, and they just shut down and say something like, well what then, wtf are we supposed to do??. they get angry, which frankly is fair, bc theyre not rly angry with me even, but with it. .... ive got no idea how to cope with it anymore other than to try to not think about it, except its hard to just "ignore" when every half year some other shit happens which makes it more apparent to me were only escaping ww3 by some miracle maybe..... or idk, i try to place my hope that Maybe just maybe the whole world is aware that nuclear war would be so bad and ww3 would wreck so much that theyd stray away from it?... but ive got to be honest, i dont have that much faith in the rulers and leaders and anyone else whose driving this shit. ive not got much faith in much....... i want to say, we have to be our own hope, we have to be the hope of the future, we have to be what we want to see changed in the world. and i do believe that. but with shit at such a insane international scale, that feels hard to say..... the people generally have less power than ever in the face of governments which have multibillion dollar technology and which all back each other up, this horrid international web of opression and exploitation. how are the people of most countries nowadays supposed to revolt?
...... ive got no idea what to do with this feeling anymore. the economic state of the world, the exploitation which is horrdibly rampant, the pollution off the hook, the state of the climate, very tense international military conflicts left and right. it feels like the end of the bloody world.... and i know ppl from the beggining of time have always said, oh, were living in the end times..... but weve never had nuclear weapons before, a million horrid weapons, plastic radiation and chemicals in literally everything, and scientific data screaming in our faces to fix the climate before its too late - fix the climate, when the international community is at each others throaths..... god damn it
im sorry if this is not comforting to read, ive got no idea how to provide comfort when i feel the same way...... what ive been trying to just tell myself is to try to live the best i can with what is happening.... and if the climate goes even more to hell, and if the world erupts in war, at least we can hope we went out trying our best to be happy and at peace and kind and loving with each other, as much as we could.....
#sending u a hug anon#u can always drop by my imbox and rant to me about this if u want#sigh.#its all terrifying
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Power Armor Punch Part Twenty Three
Masterlist
Nick: You can, in fact you need to. *starts to leave* Keep trying until you succeed.
Jasmine: (Weakly but with anger) “You sound EXACTLY like the vault trainer!” (Closes her eyes as soon as the words leave her mouth, shaking her head. Why did she say that? Nick is nothing like that horrid excuse of a human)
Nick: *spins on his heel* Do you think I'm saying any of this out of malice? I'm not asking you to physically push yourself until you break- I'm asking you to have a bit more faith in someone who's done nothing but try to help you stay alive! I'm not holding your hand anymore, Rosalinda. You can do this. I believe you can. Without my help.
Jasmine: (Stays still, looking away from him. She already said she tried, she tried so fucking HARD. But if Nick wants her to somehow try even harder, she WILL. She SHOULD be able to do it on her own, she was never suppose to let herself be held and coddled, she wont let it happen again… She nods her head, keeping her face firm)
Nick: *looks down at the floor, his eyes searching it for a moment before he looks up. He finally lets up on the heavy hand a little and his expression softens* I want you to know this is outta love. I'm trying to look out for you, kid. *turns and approaches* And if getting you back on your feet and out of this hospital means pushing you like this, then I will do it. But you have to keep trying... I can't do that for you.
Jasmine: (She keeps her expression hard as she looks at her bloodied gown, trying not to let the tears fall down her eyes. Again, its an unsettling expression) (Signing) “I told you from the start. I am always trying. But my best apparently is never good enough for anything to matter so it looks like I am doing nothing.”
Nick: *puts a hand on her shoulder* I recognize you are trying, and I'm sorry that it seems like I'm disregarding that fact, but it also seems to me that you're holding yourself back- you're the reason it's so hard. You're standing in your own way. You've got to push past that. That means trying hard enough that you eventually do...
Jasmine: (Glances up at him, not letting up on her face) (Signing) “You are right on that.” (Again. She would say that she is trying on that but it just isn't good enough, but she thinks Nick got the point already)
Nick: *pulls her into a hug* I'm proud that you've made it this far. That counts for something, doesn't it?
Jasmine: (Blinks and makes a noise in confusion, remaining stiff as not to melt in his embrace. She thought she was done being coddled… She was getting too soft, and Nick was just rightfully very angry at her)
Nick: *senses her confusion* I'm not coddling you, but that doesn't mean I'm done caring about you.
Jasmine: (Nods, still very stiff in his hug. Then why was he hugging her?) (Mumbling) “You are going to get bloody…”
Nick: Don't worry about it...
Jasmine: (Sighs, finding herself letting her head lean on his shoulder. He has been saying that all day… It takes some weight off her shoulders) (Thinking to herself) “Do not break. Do not break. Do not break. Do not break. Be strong, you are not a child who needs to be held. Show him you can pick yourself up to be something good for once in your life.” (Her face is still firm and expressionless, but her eyes are glassy)
Nick: You're human, kid. It's okay to cry.
Jasmine: (She lets out a small whimper, biting her tongue to stop another one. If she cries, she breaks. And then she will go be clingy again. She cant do that anymore, never was suppose to. She is a solider, practically)
Nick: You can be strong and allow yourself comfort at the same time. I'm not asking ya to be a robot or a soldier- just to have a little more faith in humanity. There are good people that genuinely want to help you here.
Lucille: *running extensive tests on the AI, making sure it's stable after all her patching and feature upgrades. She's experimenting with the system*
Jasmine: (She ain't even gonna question how he is reading her mind anymore) (Whispering somberly, letting some tears fall) “Look at what humanity did to me…” (They beat her, they raped her, they took her innocents, they took her world, her dignity, they made her fight and kill mercilessly, they turned her into a monster, they played her trust over and over again, They took EVERYTHING from her down to her soul. Why would she have faith?)
Nick: I know, kiddo... I know... *and yet she has faith in a machine passing as one
Jasmine: (She feels her chest heave as she leans more of her weight onto him as her body starts to give up) (Whispering heartbrokenly between tears) “They took it all away from me...”
Nick: *silently nods*
Jasmine: (Starts crying harder, fully giving up supporting her own bodyweight because she is just too dammed tired. And maybe from the slight blood loss and pain her own cuts are doing. If she could take them back, she would) (Mumbling) “I am so sorry…”
Nick: *goes quiet. He's not sure for what. The chems? Harming herself? Crying? She shouldn't be sorry for the last one.*
Jasmine: (Chokes on a sob as she gathers her thoughts- finding that there is just too much for her to be sorry for) (Barely audible) “The chems, hurting myself, being a crybaby...” (Faintly, talking to herself) “I am sorry for being born.”
Nick: *pulls back and grabs her by her shoulders, staring dead into her eyes* Don't you ever apologize for existing!
Jasmine: (Shrieks and yelps, looking down while wrapping her arms over her still bleeding chest as her whole body tenses. If Nick wasn't holding her up by the shoulders, she would have fallen over. She is not scared of him, the sudden movement and louder voice just kinda caught her off guard)
Nick: Your existence is precious. You are not a burden. You are not a monster. You're a good kid who's had a bad life.
Jasmine: (Whimpers, trembling as she tries to shake her head but is too weak and low on willpower. She is trying her best not to look up at Nick with those childlike teary eyes she has right now)
Nick: I just wish you wouldn't so brazenly throw it away...
Jasmine: (She removes her arms from her bloodied chest, looking down at herself for a long moment. If he lets go of her, she is collapsing to the floor) (Signing) “Im TRYING not to because I love you. It’s so hard and Im so messed up and weak... You know exactly why!” (Wipes her tears, smearing more blood on her face while still refusing to look at Nick. Hearing that her existence was precious to someone rattled something in her… Like the notebook said, she was used to hearing and believing the very opposite)
Nick: And yet, despite everything, I still see girl with a good heart that's stronger than she knows... *still dissapointed about the chem habit she was doing behind his back but she's apologized for it...*
Jasmine: (Alright, thats it. She cant keep up the tough face anymore. She starts bawling her eyes out, covering her face with her bloodied bandaged hands. Why did Nick see that? She does not know but she trusts him so she wont ask)
Nick: *gently props her up against the wall and heads to the sink in the room, pulling a clean rag out of it and dampening it with water. He comes back, taking her hands and carefully cleaning around the bandages* You're getting your face all bloody...
Jasmine: (Nods her head, humming sweetly to say thank you as Nick cleans her hands. It reminds her a bit of her Mom quickly cleaning her up after she would come home covered in dirt and grim from playing. Just now she was covered in blood and tears…)
Nick: *finishes cleaning her hands and gets up to rinse out the rag. He pulls a small pile of washcloths and a basin and fills it with water and sets it next to her* Let me see your face... *carefully cleans it* Now, I'm going to go find some bandages. I'm going to leave them here with you so you can clean your wounds properly and rebandage yourself up. Got it?
Jasmine: (Nods her head weakly again. She is gonna need a lot of bandages. Hopefully they aren't bad enough that she STILL needs stitches, but they are bleeding through the bandages and she should heal much faster…)
Nick: *hopes not, too... he gathers plenty and comes back with a bag of them, setting them next to her* Alright. Going to take a walk, doll, so you can have some privacy. Might scrounge up some food for you, if you're willing to eat.
Jasmine: (Chokes on a sob at the sound of that. She would feel safer if he stayed nearby, and the sound of food is making her feel more dizzy) (Signing, wincing slightly) “Good chance that I will throw it up….”
Nick: Then eat very slowly. *as he gets up and leaves the room* In the mean time, call on Curie if you need anything...
Jasmine: (Looks down at the bloody mess of herself. She is not gonna do that anytime soon unfortunately. She wants to wait a few moments before moving, her heart already starting to pound again. What the hell is wrong with her? Its just some blood…)
Nick: *heads back to the agency and reheats some of the stew*
Lucille: *decides to finally work on the motor*
Jasmine: (Slowly removes the dress, sighing in defeat when she sees that some of the bandages have leaked through in the worser areas) “Bloody hell.” (Maybe she should just finish the job…) “Fucking. That is not helping…” (Quickly starts unwrapping her bandages and putting pressure on the worse cuts, waiting to see if she can stop the bleeding)
Nick: *puts it into a bowl and covers it, wrapping the container with a cloth to keep it sealed. He grabs a piece of the bread and ties both into a sort of bindle*
Lucille: *not sure what kind of personality this one's going to have. She never is with her robots but that's part of the fun. Edgar turned out to be a sweetheart and Allan frank but polite. Poe she kind of suspected since she's a robobrain to be a bit of a cold calculating assassin who won't take anyone's sh*t and she was right... but she still isn't sure what Atlas's personality is. He seems sweet but she suspects he's cussing her out when he beeps. Probably because he doesn't have weapons. Also probably because she built him only to be a pack mule for scrap. And Julia, her black sentry bot with an assaultron torso in Sanctuary with Ahab's helm is sassy...*
Jasmine: (The responsible thing to do would be to call for Curies help, but she cant even start open her mouth to call out let alone be touched by her. She just keeps putting heavy pressure, shooing away the thoughts to rip out her stitches or her deep wound right over her heart… She winces and hisses in pain. This is her fault and she is going to fix it)
Nick: *on his way back to the hospital already*
Lucille: *just hopes all her work on this synth is worth it... she's taking a break from the engine and working on the face plate. Part of it got blown off but she's sure she can cobble together some leather to patch the missing right corner of her jaw and cheek*
Jasmine: (Gives up on the biggest wounds, going for cleaning and bandaging the smaller wounds on her waists and hips that she left unattended earlier so they don't get infected. She lets out a small cry of pain as she has to shuffle her body. Seeing all the blood on her body is making her feel sick to her stomach, which is something that does not happen often)
Nick: *knocks on the door* You decent?
Lucille: *not sure why she thought "her" when referring to the synth. Nothing about them screams her- in fact the build of all Gen 2's are pretty masculine... maybe they look butch? That reminds her, this one might want clothes... good thing she stock piled plenty of them*
Jasmine: (Weakly, but trying to be loud enough that he can hear her) “No.” (She looks down at the mess of red dripping around her. What the hell is she gonna do about this?)
Nick: I'll wait out here, then.
Jasmine: (Nods her head even though he cant see her at all. She continues to clean and bandage the smaller wounds on her legs. The water was making it seem like there was even more blood than there was) “Just get it over it with already….” (She sighs, leaning her head back against the wall and tucking her body in, waiting for this to pass. Her brain was just wired to be suicidal as fuck today wasn't it? She keeps her hands crossed over her chest, afraid to move them because she might start picking and scratching again)
Nick: Knock if you think your injuries are too bad for simple bandages.
Jasmine: (Lets out a strangled noise, looking down at the mess of bloodied bandages. She cant lie to him.… So she quietly knocks on the wall)
Nick: *immediately walks off to get Curie*
Curie: *checking the medication charts of one of her other patients*
Nick: Jas's wounds are too severe for simple bandaging. I'm worried she'll bleed out
Curie: *jumps* Oh! Monsieur Nick! You scared me-! *processes what he just said* I will go to her immediately! *runs to the room*
Nick: *follows her in* Now, Jas. You're going to have to cooperate with Curie. She's going to patch you up.
Curie: *crouches next to the girl* Yes, please hold still... I must examine the wounds closely for the best treatment. We do not need you bleeding out.
Nick: *standing in front of the door*
Jasmine: (Cant help but to yelp and wrap her arms around herself in fear. She stares at Curie with big, fearful teary eyes as her heart beats faster. No matter how hard she looks at sweet Curie who has done nothing but help her- all she CAN see are those people who took advantage of her…)
Nick: Curie isn't trying to hurt you. She's not one of them.
Curie: I am not sure as to whom he refers, but he is right. *slowly starts examining the wounds she can see* These will need stitches, yes, but it might be faster and safer to cauterize the wound. It may cause some scaring but the bleeding will immediately stop and give it time to naturally heal with minimal bandaging.
Nick: Yes, but that would rather painful.
Curie: I'm afraid with her high tolerance to sedatives, local anesthetics, and pain medication, it will be painful regardless of the option. Cauterization is the least likely option for infection as it kills most bacteria in the process.
Nick: ...Up to what she would prefer.
Curie: *looks back at Jas*
Jasmine: (Didn't hear a damn thing of what either of them said as she stares off into the very void of space. She is too busy trying not to scream and go into a mental shut down while avoiding the oncoming horrible memories. It’s a real juggle) (Thinking to herself, her lips moving slightly) “Breathe. Curie is not trying to hurt you, Nick would not let anything bad happen to you… Breathe.”
Nick: Rosalinda, which is it? Stitches or Cauterization?
Jasmine: (Snaps out of it at the sound of her real name, looking at Curie, then over at Nick, then down at herself. She rather have neither be done to her, but there is not much of a choice. Cauterization would remind her too much of the tests where she was burned to see how fast she could heal…) (Whispering, her voice trembling) “S-stitches...” (Moves her arms to let Curie see a little more of the damage, tears rolling down her cheeks. Specifically to show her the several deep ones on her chest, the one over her heart. She silently swears to herself to try even harder not to let it get this bad again. At least for Nicks sake if not her own. Must hurt him to see her hurt by her own two hands…)
Curie: Alright. *pulls out some antiseptic, a needle, and cat gut (stitches that dissolve as the wound heals). She sterilizes the needle with the antiseptic and then then the wounds, only applying a gentle amount of pressure*
Jasmine: (Cries out like a child when Curie touches her, automatically covering herself back up with her arms and scooting further back. She curls up into a tense protective ball, cursing herself out loud for moving. But she cant stop as she trembles and cries, her heart pounding loudly in her ears) (To herself) “Stupid. Curie did not even DO anything yet and you are crying like a little dumbass toddler...”
Nick: It's okay, Rosie. I wouldn't let her near you if I didn't trust her to help.
Curie: Please? If I do not stitch the worst of them shut, then there is a strong possibility you will bleed out. I promise I will leave you alone after I stitch the worst ones up. *puts her hand over her heart*
Jasmine: (Keeps crying and shaking, trying to do everything to stop but the only other way she knows how to channel these emotions is through fighting. She tightens her grip on herself, taking in some deep jagged breaths) (Thinking to herself, some words slipping out) “Come on, calm down. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. FUCKING BREATHE!”
Nick: *firmly* Rosalinda. Stop. If you keep this up, you might die.
Jasmine: (Stops her crying and she lifts her teary head up. Her shoulder's drop slightly and she keeps a lighter grip of herself. There is still a loud voice in her head saying that is the better option here, but she is really trying to avoid that)
Curie: *slowly gets closer and reaches towards her* Please...?
Jasmine: (Still trembling in fear, but she weakly nods her head, praying that she does not scrunch up or worse, hurt sweet Curie again. She lets go of herself, tears streaming down her face as she watches Curies movements very carefully)
Curie: Thank you... this might sting... *soaks the rag with antiseptic and starts applying it to the worst of them and only them*
Jasmine: (Cries out loudly, tensing up but she does not pull back as Curie does her thing. She trying at everything to keep from swatting or pushing at her. Her mind starts to swirl, horrible memories hitting her like a dump truck. Being burned, being cut, being poked and stabbed over and over again. Then having to face the guards afterwords, hurting like hell…)
Curie: *just keeps gently cleaning her wounds* There there... it will be over soon. *she does eventually finish cleaning them. She pauses to give Jas a moment to ground herself*
Nick: Stay with us, Rosie. You're still safe.
Jasmine: (Crying heartbrokenly and still quite loudly. Its what she did when she first got to the vault, but she quickly learned that those people had no sympathy for a child)
Nick: You're safe, Rosalinda... *trying to pull her back to reality with her name*
Jasmine: (Blinks at her real name under her wild tears, pulling her hands from her face. Well she does not FEEL safe right now at all. She was terrified and dizzy from the blood loss, which only made her feel even more vulnerable if that was possible in this situation)
Curie: *decides to start stitching while she has the chance*
Jasmine: (Screams bloody murder at the unexpected touch, pulling herself back into a tight protective ball and tucking her head in while still screaming)
Nick: *sighs and rubs his face*
Curie: I'm sorry. But I must apply the stitches...
Jasmine: (Nope. She was not ready for that sudden attempt, kinda scared her right back. She keeps herself tightly tucked in while sobbing in fear. She so badly wants to let Curie help so they can be done and she can rest up… But her instincts and stupid emotions wont let her)
Nick: *firmly* Is this how you're going to prove yourself, Rosalinda? Huh!? You're gonna let your memories get the best of you so badly you'd rather bleed out than let Curie here patch you up?!
Jasmine: (Yelps, her head snapping back up. She does NOT want to bleed out here, but she is no match for five years of medical torture at the moment. What more do they want her to do? Keep fighting? She will shut down…)
@lucilleandherrobots
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I'm sorry for this spam/rant but I have no other outlets...
I know to a lot of you this is going to sound super pretentious and cringey, but I mean this with my whole heart. Watching Sandman with my parents has shown me just how pathetically different we are as people, I mean, down to the very morals and way we view life. It may be hyperbole to suggest that it was sandman alone that made me realize this rift between us, but it was definitely the straw that broke the camels back. I have been trying for YEARS to talk my parents out of their extremely small minded view of the world, and I've definitely made progress, looking back it becomes clear to me that the progress I have made is only because it has become socially popular to be performatively progressive, when I came out as transgender, my mother literally mourned me, I was sitting in front of her and she started crying because she, and I quote "thought I had killed my daughter" how fucking pathetic and selfish of a mindset is that? It gets worse, even after their supposed later acceptance of me they are still very clearly *yet subtley* racist and homophobic, my father goes on rants about how there are too many interacial couples and gay people in the media these days, how its unrealistic and if they genuinely wanted to have representation it shouldn't be visible or should be literally the exact. same. percentage. as the percentage of minorities there are in society, meaning he wants only 12% of all media to show black characters because in the country we live in there are only 12% of black people in the larger population. it gets worse though. we sat down and watched episode five together, in the back of my mind I knew they were going to hate it and say something about it. so after it ended I decided to try and explain some of it, you know, atleast some of the BASIC metaphors and imagery used throughout the franchise to try and quell what I knew would be a bigoted throw of hatred if I didn't. my father left before I could start, but my mother instantly pulled up facebook and mentally clocked out, I continued talking though, giving her the benefit of the doubt and hoping she was still listening, she of course. obviously fucking wasn't and im an idiot for having this much faith in them for so long, I called her out on this and she repeated what I had said to "prove" that she was listening, except she twisted up my words to mean the opposite of what I was trying to get across, I then explained that what she repeated told me that she actually wasn't listening, she was just pretending to, and only "hearing" me, not absorbing a single word that came out of my mouth. I could continue ranting, and I actually want to, but now that the rage that I had internalized is subsiding to sadness and embarrassment I wont. I'm actually disgusted I was raised by these people, they can't have ONE FUCKING CRITICAL THOUGHT. its so exhausting being around them, I have to sidestep major misinformation and lies nearly everyday and pretend for their sake because they are highly spiritual so if I say anything that even somewhat questions their ridiculous pseudoscience I get blasted and shamed and embarrassed publicly, if I ever invite them to have a conversation beyond simply "dunking on the other guy" politically and repeating half-truths and propaganda they look at me like im an extremist and once again intentionally misinterpret my words to make me seem like a genocidal maniac. im fucking sick of this, why do I still hang around them when they can't understand the absolute bare minimum of what it means to be a real human being? I've met literal. ACTUAL 12 YEAR OLDS WHO HAVE BETTER CRITICAL THINKING SKILLS. im so exhausted and dumbfounded that I ever deluded myself into believing they were anything more than the farcical watered down image that I was trained to become. I'm glad I failed to be like them, they're genuinely horrid people. and the worst part is, they think because they aren't cult-members/terrorist sympathizers like my grandparents, they think they're amazing people, they genuinely don't register that they have severe moral failings.
#the sandman#the sandman netflix#netflix sandman#politics#political rant#sorry for the spam#im sick of them#I feel like an angsty teen who is yelling at their parents about it not being a phase#I know im going to be so embarrassed and regret this tomorrow but im to tired to give a shit
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expanding on my pirate tma au
martin is definitely going to be the main character, or at least annabelle's crew is going to be the main one. a lot of shit happen to them, n also elias isn't really that great of a captain n jonah doesnt care enough abt raids to do them, which is ironic, since that's what a pirate does
now, there's going to be two points of intense tension between martin n two very important people in his life: gerry and annabelle. he will feel betrayed while these two hopelessly try to tell him that they didnt have any other choice, which he thinks is bullshit
the reason for the tension is new pirate on the rise, one that came from the english navy, which is why he's so talked about. "he's just a rich kid playing pirate" "no wonder he's on the rise, doesn't need any raiding with all that english money" etc etc. some wanna give him the benefit of the doubt, but most pirate crews do not care for him and will not negotiate or even speak to him
that is, until a lot of them start to make deals with him, even people that stay inland make deals with him, for various reasons. money, cargo, information, contacts, travel, people, etc. It disgusts martin, he knows he's as corrupt and as horrid as you can get and he doesnt understand those who deal with him, looking for an easy way out of their problems. "arent pirates supposed to be separate from the english, fight them? why side with them? he's obviously not a real pirate, he's planning something"
he says this to anyone who will listen, and at 14, he gets kidnapped by a group of men looking to make easy money, and besides they get another smart mouthed kid out of the streets. this is where he gets his top canines pullet out, but annabelle comes to the rescue and promptly kills any man who is not martin on site
only at 16 did he finally realize that those men were child traffickers, and that they needed to have had a big boss or some connection to the trading. he focuses on finding out who the fuck was in the market for trafficking children, and killing them. which leads to this new english pirate
martin has a hunch that he is that trafficker, even tho he lacks evidence. he would have the money and the secrecy of rank on his side, he has great ship and many connections, and has been seen with a great amount of questionable characters, some of them known traffickers of any kind. he fits the bill, and he was around during the time martin was kidnapped. he just needs confirmation
he confides in gerry with all of this, and he makes a pretty solid case, so gerry is on his side, always. he still warns martin to not do anything rash until total confirmation, since he as a pretty strong crew, a lot of pirate allies, and may still be in contact with the navy. killing him off is going to cause problems, so at least cause them knowing you were in the right to do so. martin agrees, and continues his investigation
that is until he finds out gerry took a deal with this same pirate. martin's 18 now, and was already a bit tense with gerry, but over something stupid: he has a new friend, oliver or 'ollie' as gerry likes to call him. he's a lil bit jealous but he also knows that its stupid, they're friends and gerry is allowed to have another or a thousand more. still, martin does get a bit more awkward if he knows oliver is around, which he tries n fails to hide
on one of the few visits that martin is able to have, gerry is the one who is tense now. martin pushes the issue, hoping to still have a chill time with gerry. gerry asks martin first why he was tense beforehand. martin is uncomfortable with that and says so but gerry pushes the issue, diverting the attention from him. martin thinks if he confesses his jealousy over oliver maybe gerry will tell him whats wrong, so he does
gerry is not mad, a little confused and reassures martin that he is still his best friend, ollie is just a newcomer from england. and this shocks martin. he didnt know that. apparently oliver used to be in the navy but didnt agree with their methods or what they were fighting for, and so left to become a farmer or something more mundane, which led him to gerry and his bookshop, as well as his magic investigation. oliver also found out his abilities and knew he would be executed for them, so he ran (magic is outlawed).
gerry never told this to martin, which hurts him a bit, but he gets it. its personal and incriminating information, and while he can understand his fear of being found as a magic user, he cannot relate to his rich background, making him suspicious in martin's eyes. assuming that was the secret gerry was keeping martin relaxes. until gerry confesses to making a deal with the famed navy pirate, and that was too much.
martin points the blade of his rapier to gerry's throat, putting distance between them with an obvious threat. "that was your last straw" he has never felt this betrayed in his life. gerry tries to explain but martin just repeats what he said before, voice breaking. he turns and goes back to the ship, not looking back.
the crew is surprised to see him back so early, normally he spends all the days they have to rest in gerry's company. the big three, annabelle, salesa and even peter are worried. annabelle is the first to approach him and just says "you and gerry had a fight." martin leaves her presence and doesnt talk abt it, working on his bombs and oiling his weapons and keeping to himself. much later, they find out why.
annabelle, two years later, does the same. jon, tim, n sasha were visiting annabelle's ship, with martin annoying them all the time. sasha, offhandedly, not really knowing how sensitive martin is about it, tells him about annabelle's deal with the navy pirate. martin freezes and turns serious, almost angry. they have only seen martin being a lil menace, smirking and laughing. in fact, tim had even teased annabelle earlier that day about martin never taking anything serious, which she scolded him for, because martin had problems like everybody else.
annabelle, who literally was going to talk to martin about this deal and come clean, comes at just the right time. needless to say, there's a big fight behind closed doors, which jontimsasha end up being privy to. annabelle leaves knowing her mistake without knowing how to explain the truth without possibly causing trouble. she leaves, and with martin's door closed, so do the trio leave.
so. for another two years, it's very awkward aboard The Hidden (that's annabelle's, former peter's ship, if i wasnt clear enough btw). its tense, martin is depressing, not even peter likes this (peter very much kinda redeems himself in this au, baby martin got to him). so what happens two years later? well martin turns 22, and annabelle gets ill.
salesa is also pretty injured and peter is well, just not there all that much, especially with how boring the ship has become. so, when a meeting with said navy pirate is brought up, martin says to let him take care of it. annabelle stays in gerry's home (akwardddd) and martin is brought on the ship on a dingy from the navy captain's own boat.
boarding the ship is fine, martin's just bitchy, but focuses on getting to the captain's quarters. he gets there, and the captain does most of the talking, while martin wishes for time to pass quicker. that is, until the captain asks "do you really take orders from a person like her?" martin just raises an eyebrow, questioning.
"well, shes just a woman, a black one at that, not to mention that she dabbles in witchcraft. as if the piracy sentence isn't enough, yknow..." martin ignores the first part since hes used to ppl undermining annabelle everytime they breathe, especially old white men. but the last part catches his attention. "not to rain on your parade, but we're all heading to the noose. we're all pirates after all, even you. the treason is strong with you, navy captain."
"oh... so she didnt tell you. maybe it was shame, maybe she didnt trust you." martin is confused until the captain explains: he very much did not leave the navy. well, technically he did, but he made a deal. if he gets as much intel as he can, and as many good deals in goods with the pirates, he can comeback, and make everyone just a but more rich, as well as condemning the pirates to death.
"ofc, i made sure that no one would tell on me. after all, the walls have ears. or maybe eyes is more accurate. a little trick i knew from jonah, an old classmate of mine. theyre the only pirates that i havent messed with, since it wouldnt work on jonah anyways." martin is horrified. the whole time, so many pirates just had the threat of death hanging upon them? "also a lot of you pirate lot want out of this life. anyone willing to tell on their mates doesnt get hanged, but those who choose to keep their secrets get an early death. i asked for your intel: annabelle didnt give it to me. so death awaits her."
"some tried to talk ofc, warn others. i got them silenced quickly enough. you were one of them, a few years ago, when u were just a lil boy, feisty little thing u are." martin is gonna kill this man and his everyone on this ship. hes so stupid. he jsut told this all to martin and what? expects to come out of this alive? he eyes the men around him while they look over the details of the meeting, of annabelle's meeting with this fucking idiot of a murderer. one of them is a man martin recognises as being a horrid little predator.
he chucks one knife into his throat. a warning if u will. everyone gets on edge, anyone who was sitting is now standing, including the captain. martin has his gun drawn right to his face.
"u wont shoot me. u kill me, any of these men here can inform the navy. and even if u leave with ur life, we'll just sail straight to the english, with all the info i need right in this ship. u wanna kill annabele that badly boy?" martin stays silent, focusing on a spot behind the captains head, just an inch to the side. he couldnt have planned this better truly.
he shoots. he misses the captains head. he laughs, amazed at having witnessed martin, the little weaver, miss a shot. in all his years away from home, hiding from his family and playing at pirates, he has never known martin to miss. and now, hes gonna die.
until martin says "i never miss." and his eyes flash gold. and then the wall behind them explodes into splinters. i'll save all the details of this fight for another post this one is enormous but, spoilers, martin kills the captain, kills everyone in the ship except for some prisoners he helps escape and the doctor who very much wanted to get out of there. he also lits the boat on fire and swims back to land, bloodied, bruised, slashed a bit, and only on bullet graze. he wouldve left sooner but he came back to rip the knife out of the guys neck from earlier. he always comes back with all of them.
needless to say, everyone is shocked at the boat sinking and on fire. peter is the one who finds martin almost drowning and helps him on land, and then gets salesa to help carry him to annabelle.
martin gets there, annabelle recovering from poisoning apparently, cuz she was gonna rat the navy captain out but it didnt work, and gerry is there treating her. martin looks like shit, and everyone jsut kinda. looks at each other. salesa delivers the news that it was martin who took him down. everyone is so relieved, n gerry comes closer. martin tries to back away, guilty and anxious, not sure what gerry wants, tries to argue that theyre still kinda mad at each other when gerry kisses him (their first kiss!!!! AHHHHHHHHH)
anyways yh thats it... this got so big im so sorry. also the english knew that the navy captain was gonna die mist likely cuz they didnt like him much, so if he came back they would still kill him!! fun fact for yall. also yes the captain had eye powers like jonah, as i explained. he also made ppl paranoid to not speak to others since u dont know who is willing to rat others out or who decided to not do that, n it was a huge life risk that no one was willing to take. at least half the pirate community was involved in this while the rest was just chilling btw
#tmalesbeen au#tmalesbeen talks#tma#the magnus archives#martin blackwood#gerard keay#annabelle cane#gerry keay#gerard delano#gerry delano#yh this is huge yall im sorry
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Feb 6th 2024
ok, so you know how i said i was going to pass out as soon as i got home, i did not lie, i went to bed at 4pm then woke at 7pm and went back to bed then woke up at 3 in the morning, so thats something, all i’ve done today is watch hermitcraft, i watched iskalls ep 1 and 2 watched mumbos ep 1 a bit of skizzen ep1 and then watched the 90 minute mining trip (iskalls pov) i think my iskall obsession might come back so that something, im currently listening to things that look like mistakes,
i brought my journal today (to school), i might actually write in it idk though lowkey need to stop calling my self pathetic, like its true, but you didn’t have to say it, i read solitaire a bit i feel kinda trapped at this table, for to many people that i don’t know its weird
1st, we are actually writing out first draft now and im not horrid at it, so yay ig, thats honestly all that happened, but we did write a sample and it was kinda funny ig, the choir pop show was mentioned which we love, thats about it, on my way to
2nd, i saw nicholae, and i actually think im gaslighting myself into having a crush its disgusting like genuinely hate it so much, anyways, weight room sucks like normal, we’re doing different exercises and they suck this sucks i can't read rn and thats utter garbage but what ever, i actually hate myself for finding a boy even mildly attractive like this is shit, still think im gaslighting myself about him but you know, i have a test in last today, thats kinda absurd like i don’t know shit in there she does not teach shit
anyways, 3rd i did half of the worksheet then helped caleb study for their geography test that about it, listening to whatever my phone gives me, it’s currently fly out to alaska,
on my way to fucking lunch you’d never guess who i saw again, thats 2 times more than normal, kinda pissed off about it ngl the funny thing about that was i was listening to “who is thomas saunders and why is he significant in your writings?” and he had just said the romantic delusion part so thats funny i guess. also at lunch i got asked what i'd say to break up with someone, as if thats even a thing that would happen to me
4th i might have forgot that we had a test, but yeah, i did most of it so thats good, now im listening to the moon will sing, it reminds me of mumbo (in fanon, in fanon), thats probably it
5th, notes, i finished part one of solitaire at the start and ate a pack of gummies, so thats something i guess now im listening to never love an anchor and it im not fully sure who it reminds me of, not fully sure of anything right now, i read a bit of solitaire and, the “i guess i just don’t like school anymore/ i hate being here” is so me, bc i didn’t mind it like a month or 2 ago but i just can’t sand it anymore it sucks i find literally no joy in being here, i think i was going to say something but i don’t remember what
6th we made flash cards for the quiz tomorrow, umm that it actually im still listening to never love an anchor that it though,
7th we had the test and my lack of confidence going in was insane, i ended up getting a 94 which is honestly just evidence that im great at tests, also my bio grade went up 5 points, so thats good, i played solitaire a bunch bc what else am i supposed to do, i have the phrase plecatne tibi stuck in my head which is interesting ig,
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